Wednesday, September 2, 2015

A Fowl Day

An animal's eyes have the power to speak a great language. 
Martin Buber

During the Great Depression, my mom's mother had a yellow mark on the sidewalk in front of her house. Tramps, as they were called then, placed the mark. It meant that this house was a good place to get a meal.

My mom shared her memories of coming down the stairs to find men gathered on her back stoop and her mother handing them homemade bread filled with leftover meats and cheeses smothered in gravy. If the men performed any tasks for her like mowing the lawn, shoveling the snow off the walk, or cleaning the chicken coop, she would make them a To Go bag.

It wasn't that my mother's parents had a great deal of money or much to share. My grandfather was a Swedish Covenant minister living in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan on a paltry salary while raising five kids. Often her dad would sit on the back steps with the men, curious about where God was in their travels. "Price of enduring a free meal," her mom would joke.

This morning while I sat on my porch writing my daily morning pages, I wondered if my house didn't have some kind of yellow mark on it. I had a gaggle, a paddle, and a few lone feathered friends all talking to me like this was the place to garner a Thanksgiving feast. Today.

Granted, I do spend a great deal of time with these lake creatures and welcome them into my world. I have my regulars. You many recall my barn swallow babies from a couple months ago.



 Two batches this summer allotted nine new in the flight. Several still come at night to sleep in their childhood nest in the rafters of the dock.


Paddles of visiting ducks often pass through or stay for a few days.


The neighborhood pelican, who missed the pod's migration back to Yellowstone last April, lives in the cove behind us.


We have a cover of coots.


The lone Osprey


Often large groups fly by on their travels.


And then we have the ever present Buddies, so named by my niece, Miranda, from Sheboygan. 

Today, morning in the hood seemed to be a "Let's go see Julie day."


 The resident Great Blue Heron was hanging out two doors down.

The neighborhood host of sparrows were holding a convention in the trees.
(I did not get that photo.)


The Buddies swam over to see if I was up.

And a gaggle of geese swam in. First one of them came up into the yard


 and then another one. 


My duck friends set up a line of defense. Sort of.  I think they were whispering, "Julie? Julie?"


These guys waited in the water to see if it was worth getting out.

As my followers maneuvered around the property, the Buddies worked their way down the dock to guard the entrance to the food shed.

Where a group of visiting ducks give The Buddies not a moment's hesitation to chase them off their feeding grounds, geese are a different beast and I'm certain they would have quickly ceded their position.





I remained in my chair and my Cardinal friend kept looking at me while he ate. I could hear him saying, "Well, are you going down to feed them or not?"

Where normally I would have done that, today I hadn't finished my coffee and still wore my pajamas. Not that the fowl would care what I wore. Though it doesn't bother me to sit on my porch in pajamas, probably would be my luck to have a few boatloads of fishermen come by while I'm strutting down the dock clad in my exotic sleepwear. Every fisherman's dream, I'm sure.  A 59-year-old woman in her nightie, less the hair curlers and cigarette hanging out her mouth, coming their way. 

Besides, I was low on cat food.

The head goose on the dock let out an exasperated squawk of impatience and flew off. The remainder of his gaggle paddled down the shoreline.



 With their exit, the Buddies collapsed on the dock, exhausted from the entire event.  Proud they had held off the invaders..


...as the heron continued his search. For some reason, he is not crazy about the cat food I serve. He prefers to do his own fishing. 

And the host of sparrows continued their quarreling in the trees. 

I understand my day of fowl watching is completely trivial when taken in consort with a much more giving grandmother. I'm grateful for those stories I carry from my mom and I'm certain if called to true duty, I could be generous.

But I'm starting to worry about myself. Could be time to resurface from my summer hibernation before I start eating cat food and walking like a duck while clad in my nightie searching the water for fish so I can cook breakfast. Scaring myself.

38 comments:

  1. I had a few Buddies, but my daughter got tired of them jumping into her water buckets,so they now reside in her freezer. Aggressive little buggers.

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    1. That breaks my heart. Great story though. Ha!

      Mine are not so bad. They just talk a lot and my husband complains when they poop on the dock. But, hey, they love me. What are you gonna do?

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  2. It doesn't matter what you write about, I'm there with you, smiling the whole time, celebrating life with you. Summer has ended here, but I'm still wearing my pajamas far longer into the morning than is probably healthy. This is day three of retirement for me, and I'm wondering which of the hundreds of possibilities to head toward first. Hope you had a great summer. Thinking of you often.

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    1. I'm so glad you are getting to lounge in those pajamas. New time of life for you and I'm certain your rhythm are all changing. We need to catch up.

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  3. I love the comparison of your current state, with birds, to your grandma's time, with tramps. So good, friend.

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    1. Thanks, Jocelyn. Appreciate the compliment very much.

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  4. Watching birds is so incredibly soul-soothing, no matter what kind they are. I love yours! Thank you for sharing them.

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    1. I've never thought of it that way, but it absolutely is soul-soothing. So glad to know I'm not a tad crazed. Maybe I am, but not in this department. Cheers!

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  5. With ducks they will become household pets as long as you feed them. With geese the lawn can get quite fragrant and slippery. Hoping they are not invading you, but just enjoying your company.

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    1. We don't seem to have as many geese as year's past. Or ducks as a matter of fact. I believe the fox populations has grown and taken out the babies. Yes, the ducks are like my pets. And much easier than most of the pets I've had through the years.

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  6. Such a nicely written story. I enjoyed thinking of your grandmother with the yellow mark in front of her house, and the virtual yellow mark in front of yours. :-)

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    1. Thank you, DJan. I think I wrote part of that story for an NPR series which I can't recall the name at this time. Talked more about those Depression stories. Funny how it came back to me the other day while I was surrounded by fowl.

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  7. My mother always fed tramps and had a mark on her gate too, so that brought back memories for me.
    As to feeding the birds - ours stand waiting at 8am, knowing their food will arrive on time, and it always does.

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    1. Hahaha. You are much more dedicated than I am to honor their official time. Also, so glad to hear of you mother and her mark. I always thought it a most unusual story, especially in this day and age.

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  8. Nah, no bird lady worries for you. It is amazing the personalities of the animals outdoors, how we come to individualize them and watch their habits. I have a swelling population of chipmunks, due to the demise of the outdoor cat. They are little clowns. We only call them by their colors so far: darkie, the brown one, the tan one. The toad who lives under the stone on the porch does have a name: Tod.

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    1. I love chipmunks, but we don't really have them in Austin. I do recall them up in Minnesota and Michigan. Cute little things.

      Love the toad. And thanks for the reassurance I'm not completely crazed.

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  9. A thoroughly entertaining account of your "Fowl Day" . . .. with the gaggle of geese and "paddling" of ducks, or if they flew perhaps a flock of ducks. I suppose it would have been a change if a "fragrance" of flamingos had got lost and joined in. A nice story of your Mother's about the Great Depression. I am beginning to think that may happen again the way the financial world is headed.

    Cheers, Julie . . . . :) x

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    1. How wonderful to hear from you, Eddie. A fragrance of flamingos. Now that would be a sight.

      And, yes, we just may have a revisit to those times. Very sad.

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  10. Your fowl friends have you figured. Enjoy the company.

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  11. You have a fantastic selection of birds near you! I love your home visitors and that story about your Mom is really lovely!x

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    1. Thank you. I enjoyed hearing those storiesand several others during that time period. So foreign to the world I live in now and even fewer people around to recall anymore.

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  12. I've enjoyed reading this story with photos. It really captures your end-of-Summer days by the water and I hope you write some more about your Mom's life way back. It would be fascinating to hear those anecdotes about a very different way of life in the 1920s/30s.

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    1. Hmm, I’ve never really thought of writing her stories, but there are some interesting ones. Or at least ones that I can incorporate into others. Good Idea.

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  13. LOL, Julie! All the birds and their antics ~ not your grandmother's generosity and kindness. My grandmother MacDonald did the same thing during the depression. It was a difficult time. Loved your bird photos! Have a great day!

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    1. Glad to hear when another has a similar story of their grandparent/parents generosity. Give me hope.

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  14. I feel kind of proud when I see all the critters who come to our back yard. And your story about your family's kindness to strangers is heartwarming. I bet you'd be the exact same way.

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  15. Loved reading about your grandmother and the yellow mark story. What a stark contrast to what is happening in Europe today.
    Looking at all those birds around your house, I am sure there must be some sort of signalling between them (equivalent to the yellow mark)

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    1. Yeah, probably some sign they can see. Not so sure their memory is that good. Good to hear from you.

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  16. Wonderful visitors and photos to go with. I had two broods of barn swallows a few years ago but they never returned....

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    1. Ours returned a few years ago and then nothing for a couple. Hope this crowd comes back. I love to watch them grow and then fly.

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  17. I don't think you have anything to fear. You come from a long line of folks who had heart. And yours shows in both your writing and your photography. It always has. I think you have a yellow mark on your blogging door. Yours is always a lovely place to stop by to feed the soul.

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    1. Aw, you are much too kind, Hilary. And I can't tell you what a joy it is to see your comments and your blog once again. I wish you the best as you go forward.

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  18. During the Depression a drawing of a cat indicated where a person could get a meal. Mercy, I hope we never see those wide spread days again but times are hard and sure to get harder. The economy is horrible, don't care what those jackasses in DC say.

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    1. Ha!

      Interesting. I never heard of the cat signal. Would be interesting to collect all those stories. And, yes, I most certainly hope those days don’t return.

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