Packing Their Bags - Last Day at Home
Located just outside my studio window inside the woodshed is a nest. I don't know the type of birds that nested here and raised their young but I've certainly appreciated their company and watching their chicks maturing; finally leaving the nest yesterday. I had no idea the little birds could fly yet as I only saw their big open mouths above the edge of the nest; waiting no doubt for mom and pop to come and feed them. Not much light is available under the woodshed roof but the sun finally showed its happy face this afternoon, which allowed me to snap off a few photos without using the flash. I'll miss the birds' company but am hoping they will return to nest and raise some more chicks again next year.
The bats have arrived and the other evening after counting 100 of them as they squeezed out from between the duroid roof and metal roof on the house, I had to retreat inside - the black flies seemed to have departed but the mosquitoes have taken their place and were attacking me with a vengeance. The trouble with swatting them and killing a few, it seems hundreds, if not thousands come to their funerals. When we first arrived here last summer, I was dismayed by the amount of bats and was thinking of ways to flush them out and send them on their way permanently. However, upon discovering they weren't actually residing in the attic or just above the ceiling in the garage, I welcomed their return, especially since they feed on flying insects - get those pesky mosquitoes is what I say.
When I stepped out of the house yesterday afternoon, a small woodpecker landed directly at my feet. It seemed to be as startled as I was and quickly flew off up into a big tree, which is growing at the edge of the front yard. I'm amazed by the variety of birds, which I see flitting about the yard and through the forest. Their cheery vocals are uplifting and some of the birds are really beautiful - flashes of bright reds, blues and yellows often catch my eye as they fly from branch to branch and soar over the pasture.
Years ago, I rode my motorcycle and took a ferry to Haida Guaii (Queen Charlotte Islands). While there, I camped at the base of Tow Hill and hiked through the loose, deep sand, a distance of about ten miles to Rose Spit, which is an ecological reserve. Nursing my badly blistered feet, I took off my boots and socks and laid down in the tall grass, which because of a continual sea breeze, looked as if I was surrounded by green curtains. Directly above me against the blue sky, was a host of swallows, some swooping so close to me snatching flies out of the air, I could have almost grabbed them with my hands. Not being anxious to return to my camp because of my seriously sore feet, I laid in the grass for a long time listening to the North Pacific waves crash against the shore and watching the swallows of Rose Spit flying overhead. I always meant to return to Rose Spit and Tow Hill but the closest I came was when I sailed across the North Pacific with a couple of friends on a small sailboat heading to Dutch Harbor in the Aleutian Islands.
I've always enjoyed birds - even tame ones - like the budgies my father used to raise in the basement of our house when I was a boy. He had hundreds of them - a rainbow of delight as they flitted about the aviary and chatted noisily. One particular bright blue budgie by the name of Billy, which lived upstairs with the family, was a real talker - he had about a 25 word vocabulary and took great delight in landing on my shoulder, giving me a kiss or playfully destroying the houses I used to erect with a deck of playing cards. I also had pigeons when I was a teenager; a few homers, but mostly rollers and tumblers. I used to really enjoy watching them fly in circles above the house when I let them out. Luckily, one day while I was watching them flying around I saw one crash land on top of a chimney and disappear inside. The neighbour was very obliging. He let me climb up on his roof and I was able to pry the pigeon out with a very long stick. I sometimes think about getting a budgie or some pigeons again but whenI look out the window or go walking in the forests, I'm content to hear the music of the wild birds and see their bright plumage as they flit about.
It saddens me that many spieces of birds are now extinct and many more are on the endangered list. Mankind, our demand to have more and more for our existence, most of which we don't need, the sportmanship of blasting them out of the skies, our vehicles of transportation and garden pesticides has certainly taken its toll on the birds. It's not like I haven't done my share of killing them, many falling victim to my BB gun and .22 rifle. However, saying that, there came a time in my life when I regretted my senseless slaying of birds and other timid creatures and ceased to harm them any longer. Now, when I shoot them, I use my camera and it's great to enlarge the photos and see them real close up - they are definitely unique and like us, deserve to live without us doing them any more injury - let their numbers flourish once again.
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