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Despite a burn-ban, one can often catch a whiff of smoke in the air, not nasty industrial smoke but an almost agreeable sort of wood smoke.
This morning when I went outside I instantly thought incense! The faint aroma of smoke was cutting through the scent of lilac which had become almost nauseating in this prolific year.
It brought to mind Buddhist temples, places of peace and harmony.
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The air is also full of small flying creatures.
Some that are harmless.
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Others I would prefer to remain outdoors.
Anticipating the usual invasion of undesirables, I purchased a tool with which to trap and remove them harmlessly.
I wasn’t holding out much hope that it would work, but it was so inexpensive there was’t much to lose.
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Maybe the wasp knew I intended to help. Three of those were an easy catch, as was a smaller winged insect.
Whether I shall catch flies I don’t know, as I haven’t had a proper attempt yet. Both times I’ve seen a fly in the house, I growled that it should stay clear of me and preferably leave.
Strangely, I didn’t see them again.
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A sighting of large butterflies had me worrying that the milkweed wasn’t ready yet but when I went to check it had shot up when I wasn’t looking and is in bud.
So bring on the Monarchs!
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We do our best to provide for bees. While I admire and respect them, I don’t know all that much about them.
Grant gets very anxious when he sees one in this condition, calling out that I should drop everything and bring sugar water to revive it.
This particular bee simply buzzed off as I approached, so apparently it had just been resting.
The honeysuckle did keep them very busy!
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The buddleia will be out soon. When we planted it three years ago it was about a foot tall. It was not a happy plant and late frosts killed the blooms two years in a row, but then it put on a growth spurt.
Perhaps, in this very enthusiastic year, it will give us a show. I take nothing for granted of course and always offer words of encouragement and appreciation.
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Mum may have thought her garden grew because she threatened it, but I suspect her plants saw through her demands, realising that she was in fact totally devoted to them.
Mum felt about flowers as I do about most other species, not human.
How could you not appreciate a face as pretty as this? I love plants too.
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In the past five years we have seen a few changes but perhaps what pleases us most is the suspicion of an adjustment in the attitude of our crow population.
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Everywhere I lived previously, crows were bold and lived in close proximity to people. They hung out near fast-food restaurants and anywhere they might find discarded snacks.
Crows amused me. I had always loved them and when Panther came into my life, I was convinced he had once been a crow because he had the same swagger and the same no-nonsense attitude.
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New York crows I soon discovered, were wary of us.
Very wary. They would just about tolerate my watching from a window but the moment a camera appeared, they were gone.
It was disappointing, the more so because there was obviously a good reason, something bad had been done to these birds.
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After writing about this, a reader enlightened me.
Just 191 miles from here, near Lake Ontario, lies the town of Auburn. NY. (Strangely my previous home was in Auburn, WA)
Each year from early November through February, *thousands upon thousands of crows fill the sky and inhabit the trees overnight. It seems no-one is entirely sure why.
*In 2005, 63,800 were counted
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The problem of course is that large flocks of large birds make a large amount of mess, which people are not happy about.
Hence, various attempts to at the very least reduce their numbers, in an assortment of ways.
How learned behaviour extends through a population of birds, I’ve no idea, only that it does.
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It would be interesting to know just how far one would have to travel from Auburn to find a flock of crows behaving in the confident, endearing manner that I have always witnessed.
It seemed to me that last summer, when I was looking out for the lame crow Gimpy, perhaps the flock had become slightly less wary, but it could have been wishful thinking.
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Gimpy could not strut and had to make do with hopping on one foot but managed as animals always do with disabilities. It appeared to have a mate and they were always together.
Toward the end of summer, I felt that the foot was recovering. Not long after, Gimpy disappeared, but if the foot healed, we would have had no way to identify the bird or its mate.
It mattered to us, but we’ll never know.
You wonder if animals sense when a human cares.
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It’s all vibrations, right? And crows in particular are extremely intelligent.
You know what else I think?
Crows have a sense of humour.
It’s not just me that thinks so.
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The ends of Panther’s front legs had not grown properly. They curled in making him appear bandy-legged.
Not that it worried him in the least.
As you can see.
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I loved this boy so much.
He was funny and spunky and naughty and I was his person. He always ran to the door to meet me and I never went out without telling him.
Panther had been a crow. It was the way he strutted and approached life head-on.
Every time I see a crow I think of him.
And dozens of times a day when I don’t.
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Yesterday I wrote about mood.
How appropriate that I should come upon this short but delightful poem of Robert Frost.
I really do believe that wild creatures know when a human is trying to help them and they will temporarily abandon some of their natural fear. I love precise poems such as the one you’ve quoted. It speaks volumes in so few words.
Thank you, Carolyn, for your lovely post, a tribute to the crows. I love your photography, the memories of Panther, the pictures, and the poem. Your observations about the birds’ intelligence and their sense of humor resonate with me as I once had a young crow living with me.
Joanna
I love the scent of flowers (though most of these will give me hay fever), but it always makes me realise that Nature is alive. I don’t often see crows here where we live now, but a bird I often hear (but rarely see) is the African fish eagle … it’s one of the most beautiful bird sounds to me. Panther looked like a beautiful cat – he had real cat eyes!
A bee only lives for 30-50 days, so the bee might just have been very old and tired. Crows are not bold in Beetley, and will fly off if approached. I think that’s because farmers around here shoot them and trap them to keep them off the crops.
Best wishes, Pete.
Yes crows are a field for fascinating study
Poor Panther, but I bet it doesn’t stop him from getting into mischief!
Not sure if I mentioned this before, but my neighbour has a few bee hives and they often give me lovely honey. I like to buy it from them as it’s their cottage industry, but often, she insists. When I’m home, I plant lots of flowers to attract bees. I can just imagine Grant telling you to drop everything but how do you revive a bee?
Love your daily shenanigans!
Grant thinks sugar water helps bees but that one seemed to think I was disturbing its siesta and it buzzed off. I remember liking the honey I got in Australia. There are so many kinds all good in my view. Panther was a very naughty boy at times but he was such a character.