| A Word Edgewise
by Mary Joe Clendenin |
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BIRDS; FROM SPARROW TO PEACOCKS
Watching the birds eat bread and seed that we've placed in the back yard is a joy.
Seeing a red bird, as big as his cardinal mother, begging and waiting for her to put food in his mouth reminds me of a spoiled child. In fact, birds display many human characteristics. A neighbor has a minah who enjoys the sun on cool mornings, and tells us so with his whistles. Reminds me of the parrot that both annoyed and entertained us when we were growing up; annoyed by sounding just like mother when he chose to call us from play.
We also had bantams, guineas, pheasants, peafowl, love birds, canaries, geese, ducks, a couple of owls one time, and dad protected the wild birds on the place.
The geese ate grass and weeds in the fields. Of course, they sometimes ate other things, too. If left to their own selections, they would eat the garden plants.
In early summer, I think it was, it had to be done early enough for them to grow new feathers before cold weather, we picked the geese. Dad would have them penned at an old tie house--built out of crossties obtained when a railroad that went through the place was abandoned. Mother, Loletta Smith, and Nora Lucke had the job of picking the geese to use the soft feathers and down for pillows. I always wanted to help, but had difficulty holding that strong bird in the correct position. Some were very strong, and feeling themselves trapped, protested in loud raucous voices, "Such an undignified position."
The picking process didn't seem to harm, or be painful to the goose, but the holding position was important and unnatural to the bird. The picker had to hold both feet across the back with the underside of the goose up, and the head tucked under the left arm, of a right-handed person, leaving the right hand free to do the picking. The soft down on the stomach of the goose was the only part picked, and not all of that.
Mother was very ticklish in the ribs, and when the old goose ran his beak up and down her rib cage, it was all she could do to hold on. She would scold and fuss, and threaten to wring the neck of the creature The goose seemed to say, "I'm not taking this without protest. Who do you think I am, anyway?" But she managed to pick the feathers.
Some feathers were sold, if there were more than mother needed. That gave her a little extra spending money.
Most of the geese were common gray geese, but we had a few white ones and two or three knob-head geese. There were several dirt tanks around and a few geese were at home on each. I guess the tame ones acted as decoys to Canadian geese, because some stopped over in their migrations and decided the well-fed condition of their cousins spoke of a good home. Some abandoned migration. Soon we had crosses of gray and Canadian geese.
We youngsters were especially afraid of the wild ones. Some of them nested in the fence row of an orchard we had to go through on our way to and from school. If we got too close, the old gander would chase us. He'd put his head down to the ground and make great hisses, flapping his wings to run faster and look more ferocious, not quite airborne, but like a great biting machine. We would run for dear life. Usually, during nesting time in the spring, we would circle around to give the goose family plenty of room. When we complained to dad, he'd just laugh. His birds got special treatment.
We had peafowl, too, a cock and five hens. It was a great treat, even then, to sit very still on the porch and watch the cock strut. He would fan his feathers, revealing gorgeous blues, greens and grays with the feather eyes bordered in black. The feathers would quiver as he turned around and around, making a shuddering noise. His hens paid him little mind, it seemed, but the human audience watched admiringly. Mother tried to find the nest and get the eggs to set under chicken hens so that they could be penned and better cared for, but the peahens hid their nests. They raised very few chicks because snakes and 'possums or something would get the eggs.
In the hot summer, when thunderstorms built unexpectedly, the peafowl were great alarmists and weather forecasters. With a raucous cry, like a screaming mule, they could be heard for miles. Before a rain, they would fly to the roof of the barn and warn the neighbors far and wide of a coming shower.
Mother would be so proud to see the big flock of peafowl now on the old home place. She would laugh at the proud peacocks strutting and calling for attention. No wonder we attribute human attributes to birds. The ones in our yard argue and fight for favorite foods. They do their courtship dances and care for their young, spoiling some, but eventually making them fend for themselves.
I keep intending to go to the library, and check out a book with pictures to help me identify the feathered friends that share our home. I'm not a real bird watcher, just try to keep up with my friends.
I have written, desk-top publication, a collection of ghost stories called, GALLOPING GHOSTS, just in time for Halloween. The cost of the book is $6.50, and you may get it from me or from the Book Store on the west side of the Bosque River Mall.