Stories from We Are One Farm

Maybe Spring really is here. April showers have arrived, mainly drizzly and foggy this weekend but no snow as was originally forecast. The earth is releasing its aromas of the winter’s decay as the frost comes out of the ground and the land is wet and muddy, really too soft to work around the gardens yet. I did a little pruning of the crabapples and forsythia the other day when it was warm but will wait until it is drier again to do more. I debate about uncovering the lavender, afraid of late snow or ice storms but worried about them becoming too soggy and rotting if I leave the mulch on too long. 

The birds are singing Spring songs, I guess it is the arrival of the robins in greater numbers that makes the difference to the sounds outside on this quiet morning. Everyone is singing and chatting away. Likely some of them are saying, “Why haven’t you filled the birdfeeder missus?”  They’ll have to make do with the new suet cakes until we go to town this afternoon for more seeds. Under the high-pitched chirps and warbles and the odd shriek of a bluejay is the gently haunting “wo-ooo, woo woo woo” of the mourning dove, which I used to think was an owl.

There have been a few delighful bird encounters this week. First was my sighting of a red-winged blackbird, right on the feeder. I don’t think I had ever seen one before. It had me humming David Francey’s tune all day, “Red Winged Blackbird”:

.....He'll be there beside the river,

When Winter finally breaks its bones,

He'll be king among the rushes,

He'll be master of his home. 

Thought I heard a red winged blackbird,

Red winged blackbird down my road.

Thought I heard a red winged blackbird,

Red winged blackbird down my road. 

Safe as Moses in the rushes,

Builds his home on the river wide,

Every time I hear him singing,

Makes me feel like Spring inside. 

......

And I don’t know which song is the red-winged blackbird but perhaps that’s one that is sounding like Spring today. 

The next day another sighting that was new to me, a merlin, right outside the dining room window in the crabapple, identified by Edward. It was beautiful, a type of small falcon, but not necessarily good to see in the crabapple as that is where many small birds come to feed and merlins are known to eat small birds and even larger ones like robins. This one was either full or tired as I saw him half-heartedly hop over towards a chickadee and then take off.

Two days ago there was a loud “thunk” on same the window, and alas a sweet chickadee had hit the glass and fallen to the ground. I went outside to check it out, for if it was merely stunned it might’ve fallen prey to Charlie, one of the cats, if not to the merlin if he was still around.  The bird was awake and blinking but in a bit of shock. 

I have heard mixed advice on picking up birds, one says not to as it shuts down their natural fight or flight response and they don’t recover. Another says if they are in shock to keep them warm until they recover, as getting chilled could kill them. I picked him up, his neck wasn’t broken, his right foot seemed unresponsive but finally opened up. There was some warm afternoon sun hitting the tree by the suet cake so I eventually placed him on a branch and he took hold. Another chickadee came and went a couple times but this little guy didn’t budge. Then after a while another bird rushed in and he hopped over to another branch. Yay! Looking good.  

He rested a while longer and a redpoll came and sat on the same branch a mere 7 or 8 inches away.  I went inside and watched from the window as the redpoll sat there, repeatedly looking at the chickadee as if to say, “hey buddy, y’all right? You gonna be okay?” He really looked concerned or at least curious. And shortly afterwards the chickadee took flight to another tree nearby, found his way to the other suet cake and had a good feed. Hooray, another patient recovered!

This did not quite match my excitement last June as I captured a ruby-throated hummingbird who had flown in an open door on the verandah and worn itself out trying to get out a high window. I climbed a ladder and managed to pick him off the sill of the window above our vaulted-ceiling living area. I took him outside, it was drizzly but warm. He didn’t want to leave or perhaps his flight or fight system had shut down. I tried to get him to climb onto a branch but he wouldn’t budge.

After walking around holding him so lightly in my hand for about 15 minutes, feeling the life force in his tiny body, I thought to take him to the rhododendron which was in full fantastic bloom, bursting with hot pink blossoms. Surely that would get him excited! And it did. He sat in my open palm and as I moved him close to the blossoms he finally poked his beak into a bloom and drank. Knowing how they moved around like bees I took him to another and then another until he had sipped from eight blossoms, all while sitting still in my open hand. And then he was refreshed and he flew, first only to a couple adjacent flowers inches away and then zoom, he was gone! As I write I can still feel that little life force in my hands and heart.

I have even fallen in love with the large crows and their funny ways, how they gather on the power lines in the morning in a clutch of about 5, make their way over to the rough-hewn trellis that carries the wisteria vine in the garden where they seem to have a good chat, and later, when they think no-one’s looking, the odd one or two will sidle over to the ground beneath the seed feeder to see what they can scrounge. They are more timid than the small birds, taking off to the trees if they even see me at the window whereas the chickadees wait inches away as the feeder gets refilled. The crows also like to poke around the compost bins after the raccoons have managed to get their sneaky little hands between the planks of wood to haul out some delightful scraps in the night.

And just moments before this writing as I stood on the verandah listening to the bird songs, a nuthatch zoomed right through the porch, inches in front of my chest such that I could feel his energy as he flew past. Oh how they lift my spirit! Birds are such a gift, a real symbol of Divine presence at work, full of beauty both visual and audible and bright spirit, light energy that can’t help but lift one’s heart. Thank you!!