Today, being Father's Day, it seemed like an appropriate time to dust off my blog and pay a little tribute to Dad, who despite having passed nine years ago, is still the genetic source of my quirks and my passions. Today is about passions.
Starting in the 1950's until his dying day, there was always a year-round compost and a summer garden in our backyard. Where there are food scraps, there are crows. Hence my fascination with crows began.
In 1981, a smaller family homestead was built for my parents, new to the freedom of an empty-nest. The blueprints included a large picture window, placed next to the kitchen table, overlooking the backyard, to watch wildlife (and the neighbors), the entertainment of choice.
1981. It was the same year I began my 24 years of living hundreds of miles away, so visits with my parents were to be but snippets of time, and memories. Those snippets include crows as my parents and I spent precious time visiting at the kitchen table. Dad telling me about the crows, especially the one with white in its feathers and the one with a broken leg who was carefully guarded by others in the flock. And now, it is 2017.
My love of crows has never waned through the years, yet neither was it nurtured because I never possessed the right environment to establish a relationship with the mystical intelligent birds. Recently, after a crash course Googling attracting crows on the internet, my quest began in earnest, despite the less than favorable yard accommodations. In three shorts weeks there have been successes, mistakes and questioning stares from the neighbors. Despite skepticism, and unveiled disparaging comments, being deterred is not an option.
Day One: Early morning, throw peanuts in the shell in the road, the hollow tat-tat-tat-noise as they skittered on the blacktop - a signal of food. Two joyful little squirrels reveled in the breakfast feast before them. Ummm - Plan B. Wait until a crow is heard in a nearby tree - then toss the peanuts. An interested crow took an exceedingly long time to survey the area, but eventually took a few peanuts and flew off.
Day Two: Early morning, throw a few peanuts and dried fruit in the road. Two happy squirrels and a returning crow. More nuts, more fruit, and a second crow appeared. The squirrels and crows shared with no conflict.
This daily ritual continued with the addition of roasted chicken, hard boiled eggs, and Brazil nuts."If you offer it, they will come." And come they did. In less than a week the morning skies echoed with a cacophony of caws and crows flew from tree to wire to rooftop, eventually landing on the road for their morning meal. The more food I tossed, the more crows that descended upon it, the more noise in the treetops and a fear set in wondering what had I done. Neighborhood disruption and a quickly dwindling supply of crow treats in my refrigerator.
Google, attracting crows. Again. After much reading, I came upon an article by an older woman, a story similar to mine, who befriended crows after much trial and error. Her sage advice "Crows can consume a lot of food. Put out only enough to encourage them to visit." Thankfully, a more balanced interaction with the crows began. I greatly reduced the portions, but not the variety. The elimination of the Unlimited Buffet has reduced 'my flock' down to two or three faithful visitors. And gone is the tedious, time-consuming task of deboning the chicken and breaking it into pieces. Now I just throw out an entire leg or wing after the breast meat is gone.
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| "My" most bold and frequent crow visitor |
Our relationship is flourishing. I have company with my morning coffee. Intelligent and entertaining companions. I have a connection with Dad through our fascination with nature, through the enjoyment bestowed on us by crows.
Happy Father's Day Dad. I can no longer mail you a card or give you a gift, but you can live on through my memories and the quirky past times that you nurtured in me long long ago.
A memorial to you, and an homage to the crows.
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