NEWS FROM THE HILLS
Dear Cousin,
An agitated, raucous squawking came from the vicinity of the maple tree in the back yard, repeated over and over until we felt the need to investigate. Puny Pup was resting on the grass beneath the tree, staring in puzzlement at a pair of robins that flew back and forth above her.
As they began buzzing closer to her head, she got up in disgust and trotted back up the road to the safety of her own yard. It was then that we realized the robins were teaching their fledglings to fly, and wanted no part of a curious puppy in the vicinity.
All is quiet in the maple tree this morning; the baby robins must have passed their flying test and ventured out on their own. This pair of robins nests every year here in the same maple tree, and raise two broods of young ones during the summer.
We have always had a close relationship with wildlife, as well as the domestic farm animals. Those robins that were buzzing Puny reminded me of a hawk that we once raised. (The hawk was never confined, so please don’t issue any citations.) The bird was free to fly, but would come in a couple of times a day for a handout.
Criss had a coon dog that was chained to a doghouse, and this hawk was full of mischief. He knew exactly how close he could come to the dog without harm, and he would light and stamp his feet until the dog would reach the end of his chain and go wild with furious barking.
One day Criss yelled at me that the hawk was trying to catch my kitten. It looked that way, but what he was really doing was teasing the kitten by buzzing him. He would keep it up, flying lower and lower over its head, until the cat ran away in terror.
The hawk came back periodically for a long time, catching his snack of raw venison in mid air. He finally reverted completely to the wild. Many times yet today, when I see a hawk sailing serenely in the air, I wonder if it could be “our” hawk.
Like most farm families, we have named and petted a score of animals, and suffered the hurt of losing them. Patty had Rosa Belle the Rabbit, who lived in the house, used a litter box, and ate grits and gravy. She had a bad habit (or craving) of chewing the backs of the books in the bookcase. After she grew to enormous size, Patty had a cage built in the yard for her.
Although she was not a wild rabbit, she was almost the color of one. She would not stay confined to her cage, but would find a way out every day and roam around the yard. One day a young man boasted of killing “the biggest rabbit he ever saw.” We never knew if it was Rosa Belle or not, but we never saw her again.
We had Tom Turkey, who adopted a mother hen and all her little chickens. He was a fierce protector, but our rooster was insanely jealous of him. They had several violent fights, and one day we found Tom Turkey crumpled up in a heap near a woodpile. He was the victim of the rooster’s fury — or rather spurs.
We purchased some baby chickens this spring, all pullets. Matthew’s little girls just had to have some too, and they obtained six chicks. Of course we inherited them as soon as they grew tired of them. We soon discovered they were all roosters.
Our fluffy chicks grew into beautiful young pullets and roosters, white and yellow Comets, black and white Barred Rocks, and hefty Rhode Island Reds (or Red-eyed Rolands, as a young man once asked for at the local co-op store.)
Three of the roosters were Dominiques, with lacy black and white barred feathers making them the most handsome males in the flock. The other three were Reds, and one of them was a scruffy runt with a crooked toe on each foot, which I named “Ratty Rooster.” I had started petting him from the beginning, and he would run to me to be picked up as soon as I opened the chicken house door.
Criss announced that five of the roosters had to go. Mom always kept one rooster for what she called her “seed rooster” but Criss only wanted one to crow. He leaned heavily toward one of the showy Dominiques, but I held Ratty in my arms and looked sad.
To make a long story short, he went to market with the comely roosters, and Ratty Rooster stayed home. Criss was chagrined to discover that Ratty doesn’t crow. I think he will though, when he realizes that he has something to crow about.
I am thankful that God made the animal world not only for our use, but also for our pleasure. Each time I see a gold and black Monarch butterfly hovering above a sweet-scented milkweed blossom, or hear the flute-like song of a meadowlark, I have to say, “Thank you, Lord, for the beautiful world which You have made.” Give everyone my love.
Love,
Cousin Alyce Faye
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