Thank Goodness for Brothers!

  When it rains, it pours.  For the past month with the heat, we have been wishing for rain.  The afternoon thunderstorms become a welcome treat even with the high winds, thunder and lightning.  Now that the rains have started, they are nonstop.  This makes me happy regardless that a few of the storms have been rather formidable. 

  Late yesterday afternoon, the winds picked up and lightning bounced around the Bayou like no body's business. Two more pine trees received powerful strikes which will most likely kill them. Then last night, I heard the telltale sound of wood creaking.  Fearing that the tall pine that stands near the house might come tumbling down, I eased my way into the small entryway to peer out into the darkness.  A lightning strike in the distance eased my thoughts of a tree falling on the house.  The pine was swaying but not appearing to be breaking.  About that time, another creak and a crash to the west of the Little Bayou House.  The next lightning flash allowed me to see what appeared to be the top of a tree at the end of the lane.  Well, at least it was not on the house!

  This morning, I found that it was not the top of a tree but rather a huge hickory limb that had come crashing to the ground.  Thankfully, it missed the power lines by a mere few feet!  Ok, so that had to be removed.  Tugging on the limb did nothing but tire me but it was not long before I heard the chug, chug, chug of a tractor.  Thank goodness for brothers!  My brother laughed at my lack of progress and informed me that it was times like these that tractors are useful. Within minutes, he had that half of tree moved and all was well.  Until....creak, groan, creak....He and I looked up in a nearby pine tree.  "Looks like we might be moving another branch tomorrow if this rain keeps up." he said.  Yep, I do love a good storm but not as much as I do brothers!

Using Tools

  As humans we use tools to our advantage.  There is not a day that goes by that we are not utilizing a tool of some sort.  While most think of tools only in means of carpenter or mechanic use, pencils, eating utensils, light switches, phones, safety pins, needles, paint brushes...you name it. If it makes life easier for you...its a tool.  We never give these things (and our ability to use them) a second thought. It comes naturally.
  
  Critters use tools as well.  Maybe they are not as adept as we are but there are a good many animals that make use of tools.  The otter uses stones to crack shells.  The Green Heron smashes fiddler crabs to use as bait.  Raccoons will actually use a shell to dip water.  All are rather inventive methods and are definitely interesting to watch.  

  This afternoon, a hike took me far back around the peach orchard and into the little clearing near a huge magnolia tree.  An unusual tapping noise made me stop in my tracks.  Tap, tap, tap.  The noise was slightly metallic yet had a distinct cracking sound to it.  Stepping softly on the damp leaves, I eased toward the sound.  Between the magnolia tree and the pump shed is where Mark keeps Big Red, his tractor, parked.  That tapping was coming from his tractor!  Ok, so tractors are not supposed to tap.  I eased closer.

  A small brown bird was busy working.  Tap, tap, tap.  What in the world??  As I took one step nearer the bird, it flew to the magnolia tree. Ok, Little Wood Thrush, what had you so interested in on that big machine?  On cue, the bird dropped the remnants of its prize.  Aha!  So, you were using the tractor as a tool!

  The small bird usually dines upon insects but with most of those being far under cover for the winter, the Wood Thrush had a change in diet. The remnant piece was the shell from a garden snail.  When I picked up the shell, it was empty.  The bird had used the metal of the tractor hood as a cracking device for the shell.  After making one crack, it was easy for the bird to pick out pieces of the shell to get to the snail inside.  That is one smart bird!  I guess a snail will make a fine meal when you are hungry and I guess a tractor is a great tool for birds as well as humans. 

A Time Long Ago

  Once upon a time long, long ago, there was a little farm.  On these acres lived a farmer, his wife and five kids.  They did not have a lot as far as money but they were happy.  They did not seem to need a lot of cash.  Sure, it would have been nice to be able to afford what others had but, in the long run, none of that mattered.  The kids worked hard in the fields, played hard in the yard and woods and ate heartily from what was raised in the fields.  The farmer and his wife never complained of any hardships even though, at times, there was simply not enough to even buy a loaf of bread.  Instead, cornbread sufficed and did a grand job of brightening the spirits of all.  Simple things like family meals, songs sung while the wife played the piano and stories told while sitting on the front porch after dark filled the days and evenings of the family. There was no television, fancy clothes or new toys.  Even during the bleakest of times, love pulled the family closer.  All was good.

  Then, as families do, the kids grew up, moved out and had families of their own.  Without the helping hands of five kids, the crops were pared down to a minimum and the house seemed empty. Grandkids visited, thought it was great fun to "help" in the gardens and then went back home. The farmer and his wife aged and eventually passed on from this world.  The little farm was sold and a subdivision took its place. It was sad.

  But!  No matter how much things change, they sometimes remain the same.  Yep, that statement is in stark contrast with its own self but things have a way of coming a full circle.  What was once, will always be again.  Today while sitting in the cooling breeze at midday, I watched as my brother rode his tractor about his yard.  A whole flood of memories flashed about in the brain.  His appearance was so much like that of Pop.  I had thoughts of the little farm, of Pop and Mom, of my childhood spent in sheer bliss.  I thought of Christmases without new toys, of a house without air conditioning, and of the sound of rain on the tin roof.  I thought of homemade jams and jellies, fresh baked bread and dresses made from flour sacks.  I thought of sitting by the fireside doing homework on cold nights, sitting on the porch swing listening to tales of long ago told by Pop and visits by cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.  I thought of days spent in the fields either in the blistering heat of summer or the icy cold of winter,  of nights listening to the frogs and watching the fireflies and of sharing a room with my sister.  I thought...I reminisced...All because of a sight of my brother on a tractor.  For a bit, I missed all of that.  A tear rolled down my cheek.  All is good.

The Great Loss

Some days there is just a lack of activity on the Bayou...at least on my side.  Down a ways from the Bayou but still near here, there is a flurry of work underway.   It makes me sad.  If there is one thing that I have learned to hate, it is the sound of tractors tearing up trees.  For the past five days from sun up to sun down, some folks are clearing a lot to build a house.  This lot just happens to be on the island part the of the opposite shore of my Bayou.  By island part, I mean the outer portion of the shoreline that has been cut by tides from the mainland.  A bridge was constructed to connect this island to the mainland.  But now, these folks are tearing out every tree on their lot.  The big machines are digging huge holes to extricate even the tap roots of trees that have stood through floods and hurricanes.  Some of these trees are probably over a hundred years old but not any more.  They are gone.  It seems such a shame to ruin a perfectly good tree for naught. Most were simply plowed over and not even salvaged as lumber.  This all makes my stomach churn.

It, also, must be a tad disturbing for the critters that have lived on the island for years.  The simple quiet is now replaced by disruptive ruckus like no other.  My side of the Bayou has become a safe haven for these critters. Since we own the entire Bayou, itself, at least that is some comfort.  The critters can have free reign of this small area. They know that I will not harm them and actually welcome each and every one.  Today, I noticed a Great Blue Heron fly out of the lot as soon as the tractors started roaring.  The bird flew to my yard and took refuge in a dead pine.  Here the bird stayed for the remainder of the day..staring at the place it used to call home.  Poor bird.  I so wish I could console it.  Other than merely allowing it to sit in peace, I did not know what to do.

It does make me wonder just how many other critters are being displaced by the work.  I am not opposed to people building houses but, for the life of me, I cannot see ripping out every tree that stands.  When Mark and I built the Little Bayou House, we were highly selective of the trees we removed.  We surveyed the property to find the area with the least trees of any size as our house site.  Of course, hurricanes and disease have taken many but still, I refuse to cut live trees.  (We did lose 69 trees to Hurricane Katrina.  I believe this was the hardest thing for me to accept.  My beloved trees were mangled!)  In a way, I am like that Heron.  I forlornly stare at the island and shudder with the thought of my critter friends losing their homes.