Crows, Scarecrows and Memories

  About mid afternoon, another ruckus could be heard out in the yard.  This one, however, was not nearly as exciting as the one sent up by the eagles.  Dozens of crows were circling above the house and each one felt the need to caw incessantly.  As I sat watching, more and more crows gathered. The birds flew about the place making their noise for a good hour before finally drifting off toward the east.  While I normally am ok with a crow or two hanging about the place, I was not too thrilled to see this many. Thoughts of "Good riddance!" fluttered through the mind as the crows left the area but. at the same time. a silly memory bounced in there, too.

  Back on the farm, Pop grew a lot of corn.  He always had his fields planted long before others thought the weather was warm enough.  The corn was necessary as food, a saleable crop and as food for the livestock.  Acre after acre was planted and cared for during late February and early March.  Then another crop was put in during midsummer.  This was one of the most important crops that the small farm produced since it fed so many.   The first harvesting was sold and also supplied our needs at the present time.  From this harvesting, we also prepared for the winter months.  Hundreds of ears were husked and frozen for later.  After the freezers were full, the remainder of the corn was allowed to dry on the stalk.  Once dried, we would harvest truckloads of the ears and store them for feed for the livestock.  Out of these dried ears, Pop would always save the largest, fullest ears to be used as seed for the next year.  It was one of my jobs to hand shell the kernels (from the cobs), inspect the seeds for varmints such as weevils and then store them in tight containers.   Corn, indeed, was an important crop.

  With this early planting, came the threat of crows pulling up the tiny plants to get to the seed underground.  When a flock the size of the one today would enter the fields, they could ruin the entire crop in a matter of a few hours.  The birds would methodically bob up and down the straight rows pulling the tiny plants.  The seed was plucked from the end and the plant laid to the wayside.  Pop was always listening for the crows and often had to dash to the field with his shotgun to scare them away.  Only occasionally would he actually kill a bird with those shots.  It was not his intention to shoot them but to scare them from the fields.  He was a firm believer that you did not kill anything that was not to be used as food.  

  I remember when I was a youngster in grade school, my teacher had put up decorations for fall/Halloween.  One of those decorations was a nice sized scarecrow.  This started my brain to thinking about why Pop had to shoot at the crows if he could just build a scarecrow.  I was determined to help Pop with his duties on the farm!  I would build a scarecrow so he did not have to race to the fields when he heard the crows cawing!  What a dutiful daughter I was!  I worked hard on my scarecrow and even convinced my brother to help me.  He and I were cohorts in so many escapades as kids but this one was at least helpful...so we thought.  With clothes from the clothesline, a few sticks from the woods and hay from the barn, we made quite the structure!  When we proudly brought our scarecrow out to show everyone, it received a round of giggles from our older siblings, a scolding from Mom for using her clean laundry and a thoughtful "Well, we better not put that in the field since I may need those pants."  Pop suggested that a better use would be as a decoration for the Halloween Carnival."  Pop was always the head of the local school's PTA (Parent-Teacher Association) which hosted the best carnivals for all of the local kids!  My brother and I were proud to drag that poor scarecrow to the school that weekend for the carnival, Pop was probably appreciative for the help (at least, I hope) and the crows were saved from dying by choking back giggles at the "terrifying scarecrow" in the fields.  Yes, it was that pathetic. 

  Isn't it funny how a simple thing like a flock of birds can trigger a memory so lost in time?  This was one of those occasions that laid hidden behind cobwebs in the dark recesses of my brain for some fifty years or so before being brought to light again.  Maybe I should thank the crows for jogging thoughts of happy times!

No Rest For The Weary

  The past few days have been particularly tiresome.  Our old refrigerator (the Big Ugly as I named it) decided that it was time to go on the blink Sunday night.  This was a most inopportune time as deliveries from our local Home Depot are only made on Fridays.  What was I to do?   Son tinkered with the gigantic white elephant of a frig and finally got it going enough to keep things cool.  Great!  Except for the fact that the fan was not working on its own, all was good.  Every hour or so, one of us had to go to the kitchen, reach down behind the frig and twirl the fan to get it started.  While I was appreciative of any bit of cooling the old frig could give and I did not mind getting out of bed to twirl a fan, it began to get tiresome after the first night.  No sleep makes for a confused brain and achy body.  Normally, I am an early riser.  Watching the sun rise above the pines gives me great joy and a time to meditate before the hustle and bustle of the day begins.  This morning, however, I really...REALLY...wanted to snooze just a bit more.  That bed felt all too comfortable!  Then the unimaginable occurred and I was forced to tumble out of bed regardless of my thoughts of otherwise.

  Caw!  Caw!  CAW! CAW!  Oh, good grief!  Right outside of the open window a crow decided to welcome the day by yelling its fool head off while in the black gum tree.   Ok, so one bird would probably be met by the bazillion blue jays of the neighborhood watch of the critter world and be chased far down the hill...hopefully.  Then the first calling bird was joined by another, then another and yet another until just about every crow in the county was sitting outside my window!  What was up with that???  Well, me, for one.  With all that racket, I just had to check it out.

  By the time I dressed and slipped on my shoes, several more crows were flapping their way to my front yard.  This was ridiculous!  Camera in hand, I slipped out the door to investigate the invasion.  All I could think was "Why are you not here in October for the clue hunt?"  (How perfect would that be??)  I edged my way closer to the crows who had now moved down the hillside to the tall oak tree.  Dozens of the large birds were still causing a ruckus and were now being joined by the blue jays.  The jays were attacking the crows, the crows were yelling and I was standing in drizzling rain pondering the whole situation.  Then, in spite of all that cacophony, I heard a weaker call.  An almost whispering "caw" came from a nearby pine tree.  My attention turned to that bird.  

  Yep!  There was the cause of all the uproar.  A fledgling crow was learning to fly!  Obviously, that old adage about taking a village to raise a child holds true in the crow world.  One baby leaves the nest and it is a countywide event!  That is fine.  I am all for baby birds taking flight.  I am all for adult birds guarding it during its trial run.  I am not all for it happening right outside my window at 5am when I am suffering from an extreme lack of sleep!!!  GO AWAY, SILLY CROWS!  AND TAKE THOSE LOUD-MOUTHED JAYS WITH YOU!!!  Grrr!

The Villain

  "Uh uh, Uh uh!"  Someone was denying a fact even before they were accused.  To me, that automatically suggests guilt.  Perhaps I am being hasty in my judgement here but it seems to me that those who yell the loudest are sometimes the guiltiest.  Why go to all of the trouble of being in denial if you are not as guilty as sin?!  "Uh uh! Uh uh!"....once again the phrase was heard making me even more sure of my thoughts.

  This denial was coming from the tall pine tree back behind the shed.  All of the smaller songbirds were in a tizzy making it clear that something nefarious was underfoot...or above head...which seemed more likely.  That familiar noise was the cawing of a crow and its presence was causing a major uproar among my songbird community. What I have been blaming solely on the small Screech Owl may be due to none other than the visiting crows.  "Uh uh!"  Once again, the crow denied knowing anything about the nest raids and the missing eggs and baby birds.  

  I was just about to go "Grandmother" on the crow and start banging on my pie tin when the smaller  birds took things in their own hands...errr....talons...errr...whatever.  The ruckus drummed up by the woodpeckers, cardinals and wrens brought in the fighting forces of red-winged blackbirds.  These are fighter pilots with the best of them.  It did not take long of the five or six smaller blackbirds bombarding the crow to make it vacate the premises!  The rest of songbirds remained quite atwitter as they checked their nests.  Perhaps in all of that chirping, twittering, tweeting a few word of thanks should have been directed toward the red-winged blackbirds who merely went back to their own nests as if the deed was nothing special.  Wouldn't it be great if we humans could find it in our hearts to do good for our communities without expecting to be rewarded.  Good job, red-winged blackbirds! You are brave beyond compare and I salute you!

  The referral to going "Grandmother" was due to my maternal grandmother's habit of grabbing her metal pie pan whenever she needed to frighten off any predator.  Whether it be crows, a pack of wild dogs or a few wild hogs, this was her "weapon" of choice.  There was one time, however, that the pie tin failed her and a pack of wild dogs was attacking the lone pet dog so she grabbed the rifle and let loose on the dogs. Good part was that the pack of dogs scooted towards the woods...bad part was that she was standing on the screened porch at the time she shot.  Granddaddy never let her forget that by showing everyone the telltale holes in the screen...but he always ended his story with how proud he was of her for rescuing the poor pup!  Oh, Grandmother!  I miss you!

Scare Crows?

  A couple of days ago, a large flock of crows flew over the house.  I should not say "flock" here but rather "murder" or "congress" as those are the collective nouns for a large mass of these birds.  Call me lazy but it is easier to stick with the old standby of "flock of birds" instead of trying to remember the numerous different names attributed to different birds.  Each type of bird has its own cutesy title.  While this makes for a flowery speech it does little to signify anything in everyday life.  I can only imagine the lengthy explanation each time I would use a term such as "charm of finches" or "kettle of hawks".  Yep, those are both appropriate terms.  Can you imagine?  "I had a kettle of hawks in the yard today"..."What?  You cannot cook hawks!  That is illegal!"  And so the explanation would begin as I would try to assure the concerned onlooker that I meant no harm.  Anyway like I said, a large flock of crows flew over the Little Bayou House.  They were making their usual racket which made me stop gathering firewood long enough to look upwards. Unlike geese, crows do not follow the customary V-formation. They fly anywhere and everywhere they please.  The whole sky was filled with crows.  Some flying higher than others, some flying close together while others were stragglers bringing up the rear.  

  All of the commotion that the birds were creating was picked up by the blue jays.  It seems that they could not be outdone by the raucous crows.  The cacophony brought back memories of being on the farm. Pop raised a good bit of corn to not only feed us, but also feed the farm critters throughout the cold winters.  Acres and acres of corn were planted, tended and harvested.  Some ears were picked early while the kernels were tender and sweet, other ears were left to dry in the field. Those dried ears were harvested and saved for seed for the next year and for feed for the chickens, cows and hogs. Those dried ears were also what attracted the crows. With all of his cornfields, I never once remember a scarecrow being placed out to shoo the birds from raiding the corn. The functionality of scarecrows must be pure myth!  Whenever Pop (or any other farmer) heard a flock of crows nearing the field, he would grab his shotgun and make haste through the woods to the fence row.  There he would sit until the crows decided a meal would be tasty. Then...Pop would let loose.  Boom!  Squawks and black feathers would fill the air.  That, my friends, was our scarecrow!  It worked.  The crows would leave the field to find a less dangerous diner.  This may seem cruel by today's standards but back then it was called survival.  If the fields were left to be ravaged by the birds, kids and farm animals would go hungry.  That was just a fact.  

  Back to those scarecrows...we did occasionally make one.  It was not to be used in the fields but as a fall decoration for the annual Halloween carnival that was held at the local school.  For the longest time, I never made the connection that the stuffed chap was supposed to actually be a farm tool.  It was just a cute decoration that Mom would whip up using Pop's old clothes and some hay from the barn.  To be honest, I don't think any bird would be scared of something like that anyway!

Black Murder!

I listened as all the birds on the hillside started sending up a panicked din.  It seemed that something wicked was out and about the Bayou.  Hmm..I thought I better investigate.  This could mean trouble for all my baby birds that have not fledged yet.  Some predator had made an appearance and was causing a stir among the songbirds.  I grabbed the camera and whispered "Come" to Ms. Ez.  She was on her feet and ready to go!  I always feel a tad safer with her along.  If this intruder happened to be a snake, she would see it far before my old eyes could focus.  If it happened to be a coyote, fox or bobcat..well, she would sure be a help!

Once outside, we hesitated long enough to get a direction.  Ahh, the ruckus was taking place near the Bayou's edge.  This meant it could be any number of predators as the marsh is home to a lot of critters.  We eased our way through the arbors and down the hill.   I glanced at Ezzy..she did not seem edgy.  Perhaps this was a false alarm.  Still, we proceeded on with our quest.  The birds were so alarmed about something.  Coming to a clearing near the marsh, I stopped and searched the treetops for the alarm-sending jays.  Their voices were by far the loudest making them easiest to spot.  Suddenly, the entire company of birds took flight!  So..it must be a threat of the avian sort!

Sure enough, across the way, a lone crow flew to the top of a dead tree.  His cawing relieved me in a way but still disturbed my inner self.  I knew this marauding menace would eat every baby bird he could find!  There was not much I could or would do at this point.  It seemed that the songbirds were winning the battle and the poor old crow was getting whupped! The Redwinged Blackbirds had taken up the cause and were dive-bombing the crow in such a relentless manner!  I watched as they literally sent the crow and its (unseen to me) buddy flying off into the woods.  I know these two will be back.  They love to feast on nestling birds and I have plenty in the yard.  Hmmm..there must be a reason that a flock of crows is called a "murder".