Memories

MEMORIES

A little while ago, Jeff posted an Edmonton pic, taken from his apartment window, of three birds’ nests, probably constructed by crows, but subseqently taken over by magpies…..that triggered a few memories of bygone days with me! One of the great joys of farm life when I was young (pre-teens) were the times that brother Jack and I raided the crows nests, (magpies have now taken our place?). We had a very good and effective system worked out, Jack, being the best climber (by far) would shinny up the tree. I would stand below holding his cap firmly in both hands with a view to catching the eggs from the nest as Jack sent them down my way. One at a time, mind you, else they would break on crashing into each other. Depending on my dexterity and his aim, we would carefully collect all the eggs from the nest. Breakages of course were a write-off. These eggs were blown, by us, and if you don’t know what that is, then I’ll explain…..make a small hole in the end of the egg, and a larger hole in the other end, blow into the small hole and the force will blow the egg’s contents out the other hole, and you’re left with a mostly intact eggshell, which we added to our collection of crows eggs. They were the only birds we harassed as they were generally counted as “no-count” avians. They (the parents) didn’t like us much, they kept diving at us, never actually coming in direct contact, but close enough that it would startle us sometimes, especially Jack up the tree with his hand on their property. But we were fearless demons! We kept doing it every summer, we checked every nest on our ½ mile of property, and helped to keep the crows down in the area. Our mother did not care for the smelly collection, so we became quite ingenious at hiding it, her nose was just too efficient and we had to keep changing the hiding places. Great fun….farm kids everywhere did this.

Another memory was triggered by this…..one time we discovered a nest of four young hawks, not quite ready to fly yet, but dangerously protective of their quarters. The nest was on the ground, and those parents were dive bombers. And their offspring had all the right hawk instincts. As soon as Jack and I came on the scene, those young birds reared back on their butts, talons extended, beaks ready to peck us to death. And actually hissing at us….so, one quick look of wonderment was all we allowed ourselves, and with the danger from the skies wheeling overhead, we took off for the hills. Never to return, at least until the nest was abandoned and those babies off on their own.

Speaking of magpies, which we’re not (yet)…..I’d like to make a comment on them. They’re not much liked in the Alberta countryside, they’re very hard on the small bird population, noisy, invasive, about the only thing you can say in their favour is they are quick to clean up carrion. And they stay here all winter instead of becoming real snowbirds and going south to more favorable climes. Our old German shepherd, Smoky, paid no attention to them pulling the hairs out of her tail to line their nests. Sure, she used to snap at them at first, but they were too quick for her, she never laid a tooth on a feather, so to speak. Harass cats? All the time, they gang up and squawk and tease just out of reach, and you know how fast a cat is. My poor Lincoln used to cringe and hide in the undergrowth so the magpies wouldn’t get on his case….mind you, he was essentially an indoor cat and poorly equipped mentally to hazard the dangers of the wild. Under the front steps was his favorite place of refuge. He was not the bravest cat in the world. Many times I would hear a chorus of magpie voices in the yard, and sure enough, there would be a half dozen or more of them harrassing Lincoln, and I’d have to go rescue him from those marauders lest they peck his eyes out. I may be a little prejudiced but the truth is I HATE MAGPIES.

Come back in a few days when I reminisce some more about the good old days on the farm. OK? See you then…..