Nuisance to Miracle (Part II)

August 15 (Sunday)...15th Day of Incubation

9:25 AM Coffee Time in my “barren garden”...no plants and flowers.

SURPRISE! A 2^nd Dove flew to the long balcony railing with 4 or 5 soft musical “clucks”...and seeing me, he flew away...returning to a high telephone wire to wait!  I came to two decisions:

1. I must move from this nest-side chair to the one near the door.
2. I must advise my online Bridge partner, that our game is delayed...I feel like a “Mother Hen”.

He does another swooping-wing fly-by and alights on the railing behind the nest... the doves exchange a few musical clucks.  He again retreats to his high wire overview!  I have now claimed my camera...ready to photo. The 3rd attempt  places him again on the rail behind Rosie.  He flutters down, with a few more clucks to the nest's outer edge. They look IDENTICAL.  He waits a minute...I see his reddish-pink tiny webbed feet...and now this Miraculous Event!

Rosie rises full height...her feet a pinkish-red.

Beautifully displayed are 2 white eggs.

He steps into the nest, almost diagonal to her.

Rosie, with her beak, breaks open one egg shell which falls cleanly to one side

revealing a moving baby still partially in the other half shell.

With the released half-shell in her beak, she flies away.

Papa remains until she returns about 5 minutes later.

In this interim, he sits tall in the nest, covering the newborn and other egg.

Nearby, birds chirp continually, as though Announcing the Birth!

Rosie examines the nest ...then beak-clasps the remaining half-shell,

flying away with it.

In the absence of about 15 minutes, he wonders,”Where are you, Rosie?”

There are now 2 other Mourning Doves on the high wire,

overlooking the Birthplace.

Mama returns to the nest...she and Papa exchange a few clucks.

One parent “swooping-wing” leaves.

I wonder about the 2^nd egg!

Now I need to tend to my Online Bridge Game...I announce to my Partner and Opponents, “I am now a Grandmother to a Mourning Dove baby.” They write onscreen, “Congratulations!” and signed with a Red Heart. When my Partner is playing the contract, I return to the balcony to observe any further proceedings. All is Quiet.

1:45 PM I reappear to keep Papa company... in my nest-side chair.

2:45 PM The wee baby is moving below his Papa's lower breast as the sun begins to warm the nest area. With tail feathers propped against the chair back, white feathers can be seen along his tail. He feeds the wee baby, putting his beak into its mouth. Its head is blackish-striped, the remainder is soft beige shades. Little one is active, moving its beak. Papa now stands, rotating about 90 degrees, partly standing over his baby. Bird of another specie flies by...Papa is Alert! (unknown to me ...1 baby or 2?)

His throat sort of “pulsates” as does his full-length tail...may be producing “crop-milk” from the gland in his body to feed this hungry babe. He rises and feeds the baby. The other WHITE EGG is now visible! He again feeds his child several times...who is struggling for more. 

3:10 PM...he seems to “pump his throat” to obtain more fluid in his mouth...baby becomes more restless. Suddenly he stops, due to a “foreign sound”. One of the “resident seniors” is “walker-ing” on the path below. Papa's body language tells baby to “Be Still!” All is quiet for a length of time to ensure there is no danger prevalent. Golden sunlight now bathes the complete balcony area...even me.

A nearby bird with a raucous voice chatters to another bird. Papa is Alert to any unexpected sound or interference. At 4:10 PM as another Senior walks by, Papa stretches his neck upward to its full height and remains for several minutes. How Protective He Is!

7:00 PM Mourning dove sits calmly on the nest...his bill is blackish-blue and eyes of jet-black. I assume this is still Papa...waiting for Mama to return for “her night shift”. His ruffled feathers and warm body will protect baby and egg until her arrival.

August 16 (Monday) 9:00 AM Rosie is quiet as I freshen her water and wish her a Happy Day. It is very windy this morning...and I anticipate a little action.

9:40 AM SURPRISE...a 1/2 shell is lodged in the open pattern of the chair. Within these 40 minutes, I missed the “ribbon-cutting” of the Second Birth! This must be Papa's “shift time”. I wonder, “Who will remove this white half-shell?” I'll not interfere with it...as I peer into this upright shell, I observe a bit of “matter” at its base. The air is cooler and fresher...but with a stiff breeze! At noon, I observed that the half-shell was dislodged and gone. Papa is squatting on the hatchlings...one baby is visible at his lower breast. I leave this contented family scene for a few hours...have an appointment...and need a few groceries.

4:00 PM His look tells me, “Not to Fret” about him...has all under control.

August 17 (Tuesday) 9:30 AM In the Kitchen, I hear, “twitter, twitter, twitter...twitter, twitter , twitter” that now sounds familiar! (Strange that at the Birth time...their “cluck, cluck, clucks” gave a different message.) Previously, I had heard nothing from them. Now my “motherly instinct” kicks in...must check! I silently opened the door a bit...Papa swooped down to the nest. He pauses on the chair front for 1 or 2 minutes (checking safety?). Rosie sits fully upright with her neck extended. They hear a nearby bird with the same raucous voice as before...both are Alert! She resettles on the nest...Papa remains on the outer chair front. She seems anxious to do something. (It is obvious to me that they must be changing shifts...but they have some “interference”.) Now, he steps to the nest edge, then inside...she flies away and he partially squats to cover the hatchlings. The “home” is again in order...peace reigns.

1:30 PM I return to my observation chair...beside Papa. There is exceeding noise from mower-machines as they “row back and forth”. At 2:00 PM the landscapers leave. He raises himself a bit as the 2 babies inch to the front of his breast...as though to breathe the fresh air. Partly standing, his feathers are ruffled and spread...covering the nest to its outer edges...seemingly to provide space for the little ones. I had not realized that birds “blink” quite rapidly...his jet black eyes are outlined with a fine ivory/white line...now I wonder if they have eye lashes(?).

2:30 PM Papa appears a little restless...his sandy brown feathers fluffed to cover their “treasures”. The oval tips of his wing feathers shade from light gray to charcoal. The large wing feathers are black-spotted as they contour his body. His breast to the lower neck is as beach sand. The neck is finely feathered. As either parent partially stands, to avoid smothering the babies, I deem this must be tiring on their legs over long time periods. Parenthood apparently provides the necessary stamina.

His beak opens a few times rapidly...the throat again pulsates as though preparing for another feeding. These actions extend through his body to the tips of his tail feathers. Papa stands almost upright, displaying his dark pink feet, releasing the babies to come forward for feeding. They become active and struggle to reach up. He feeds each as their mouths open. The sun's rays expose the iridescent bluish black on his head and upper neck. After a brief feeding the babies retreat. So Darling They Are!

Amazing it is that Rosie and Papa trust me so implicitly! I feel like their “hand-maiden” as I sit within a 2-feet distance from them!

Musings: It is very breezy...blowing his silky feathers...seems he is interested in making a decision...raises himself upward...stretches his neck, considering what to do. If he could converse, what would the conversation be? Maybe he wants to fly somewhere...wonders if I'll protect his family.

It's a beautiful summer afternoon. One of the fortunate experiences of retirement from a professional vocation is the opportunity to view and reflect on the God-given-goodness of Nature and the environment in which we live!

Billowy white clouds float in an azure sky...some imagery-shaped like snow capped mountains...others a locomotive train with each cloud chugging along, one after the other to reach a destination...others scud through the sky as a roller-coaster in the wind. The trees below, swiftly sway with bursts of breezes.

There is much interesting activity to capture my attention 

while I journal my Mourning Doves:

A resident walks his black lab, training her to “Sit” and “Stay”.

A senior travels on her motorized scooter

with little “white doggie in a basket” between her legs.

Cars and buses cruise the residential street: a royal blue Corvette 

(would love to have one);

a Landscape Business truck pulling a trailer with Ride-em-Tractor aboard;

a small white convertible, family sedans and vans, taxis.

3 children playfully riding their bikes along the safe bike path.

How could I not revel in this “sharing of time” with Rosie and family?

Time for late lunch prior to my 4 PM Online Bridge Game with Josseline from France. We met in March, 2009 (my Birthday, actually) and became good friends...exchanging photos and family chats by e-mail. Every Tuesday at this time is our “rendez-vous” for two hours...my 4 PM here is her 10 PM. She hopes to visit Montreal some day...it is a “certain” that this will be a most pleasurable meeting!

August 19 (Wednesday) 8:50 AM. Time is limited (for my new family) due to appointments. I greet Rosie with a little chat and fresh water.  She becomes alert

to a bird in a nearby tree, whose voice message she does not recognize.

1:45 PM I discovered at the camera shop that my last several pictures did not “photo” as the small mode wheel was mistakenly set on Movie. How could this have happened? I am So Saddened, I Could Cry...about the several more birth photos that really “tell the story”.

A couple more Mourning Doves sit on the telephone wire...this treed area may be a “family habitat” for the doves...perhaps they are “just visiting”. I am content just to observe...I have a tasty lunch before me...the Soduko puzzle to solve and a novel to continue reading. This Rosie Experience is one that may not occur again, therefore it is my desire to follow her Life during these precious available days.

It gives me an opportunity to enjoy my 3-storey view of

Life in the Neighbourhood..

A bicycle-for-two pedals by from the bike path

to follow the leisure ride toward Central Park.

Papa preens his chest feathers...pretends to beady-eye me

as the babies below him squirm.

A constant travel of cars, buses, taxi, 1/2 ton truck and people.

Numerous soprano-pitched-Tweets from nearby trees.

The grass and twig nest, with much hot sun, is looking

weather-beaten and burnished .

A heavy-set Senior dressed in lavender T-shirt and black shorts 

saunters along with her loving Poodle.

2 youths jogging, quietly pass her and saying Hello.

A lone middle-age cyclist exercises his limbs in the opposite direction

2 teenage girls with swinging ponytails and brief shorts trot their daily run.

A father pushes his stroller-ridden-child while reading a magazine.

Papa and I abide our time...he is in his avian world and I in mine.

The skies are blue with occasional drifting cloud, the breeze and the sun golden.

I've read the CAA magazine and did Soduko.

Another senior takes her small black dog for a stroll; 

they meet another friendly dog  who is taking his mistress

for a walk; the four are acquaintances; while the humans

 talk, one dog “signatures” the fire hydrant

before they complete their daily “round-the-block”.

A cyclist returns from Marilou's Market

with grocery bags handle-barred and one hand-held.

August 19 (Thursday) Checking my e-mails at the computer, I hear the musical “Twitter, Twitter...Twitter, Twitter” and wonder if it's my Mourning Dove. Yes..sitting on the long railing across from my table. I gently push open the door a few inches. Rosie? Papa? who walks (as on a tight rope) toward the nest and waits a long 2 minutes...security checking? Two small sparrows also land briefly on the same perch. Papa flutters to the nest...again waits a long minute or two. Changing of the Guard occurs...Rosie flies away with “swooshing wings”. Papa checks the hatchlings...then is immediately alarmed by noises created by a utility van unloading equipment in the driveway below.

5:00 PM A Mourning Dove on the high wire takes flight with a “swoosh” to the nest, waiting at chair edge for Papa to leave...who says, “Thanks, I'm out of here”. These babies have so rapidly grown that the 2 totally fill the nest...and I wonder...possibly 3 instead of 2? Rosie proceeds to energizingly feed them. Charcoal speckles dot their downy light beige fuzz and striped dark heads. The first one responds actively...the other hungrily waits his turn. 5:30 PM, Dinner Hour is Over!

6:45 PM There is nest activity with the little ones squirming...they settle under Mama's spread wings which provide “the roof” for their nest home...likened to an eiderdown coverlet for a bed.

7:45 PM Rosie pulls her neck in close to her body to retain warmth for this cool evening and night.. “Good Night, Rosie,” as I retreat to enjoy the Toronto Blue Jays' baseball game.

August 20 (Friday) “Freedom,Freedom, Freedom” is singing her morning Joy...she's one of my birds from Oiseaux Symphonie! With coffee in hand, I return to observe:

9:10 AM Papa “Twitter, Twitter, Twitters” his flight to the landing between Rosie and me. Rosie sits, still huddled ...with no response to him. Papa approaches the nest...Rosie swooshes immediately away.

Breakfast time for these ravenously hungry hatchlings. Papa needs no longer to extend his neck to reach these little open mouths...they stretch up to the beak of the parent who feeds them. They are beginning to resemble miniature birds with their brownish tails and speckled bodies. He “pumps” nourishment deeply into the hatching's mouth...being very forceful with this pumping action several times. Now, he breakfasts the other hatchling who is being short-changed with the amount of available food! Time for the morning hours as Papa crouches on the babes with feathers ruffled to nest edges. When he or Rosie do this, they look “fat”...or overly pregnant!

5:03 PM I have come inside to cancel my online game due to the glaring sun on my computer screen.“Twitter, Twitter, Twitter,” programs me! I glance through the door...there is Rosie on the balcony rail...THE NEST IS VACATED BY PAPA...THE HATCHLINGS ARE ALONE! I grab my camera, and cautiously approach. Rosie remains while I shoot my first pictures...the two hatchlings together! I have christened them HENRY and HEATHER!

(to be continued ~ Part III)

Merle Baird-Kerr

written August 30, 2010

From Nuisance to Miracle (Part I)

The first couple of years I lived in this third floor apartment (designated for seniors), I was frequented with visits from Blackie and Grey...cute little squirrels who would climb the yellow brick wall, then to proceed under the divider to “invade” my balcony space. Initially, they were alarmed to see me...sitting on their haunches and with dark beady eyes, assessed me..bushy tails at attention! Soon they found a large empty planting pot ...with soil in the bottom...to play in...or was it for nest-building?

My hibiscus plants loved the fresh balcony air....my summer garden was not complete without boxes loaded with petunias, geraniums, trailing ivies and blue lobelia...together with a pair of wall-hung baskets with continuing blooms throughout the breezy, golden-sun summer days. Sadly, my gorgeous hibiscus plants were destroyed...no more double pink nor yellow blooms...leaves were pulled off, then the remaining twigs broken...even the colourful baskets were experiencing a “slow death.” Blackie and Grey further vented their energies fully, by assembling leaves, twigs, cord, tape and small rags to transform the planter pot into a “squirrel nest”. Imagine them hauling their building materials up three floors...claws adhering to the brick and mortar walls! After two playful summers here, they discovered there were “no more goodies at this address.”!

You know how it is...”when no money, you rob a bank”! So Blackie tore a hole first in my bedroom window screen to search and retrieve food. Very boldly, he sat on my Living Room rug while I was online with a Bridge game. Admonishing him for being there, I opened both the balcony and front doors to chase him out! He retreated to the balcony and madly clamoured down the wall to Terra Firma. About one week later, he attempted another Break and Enter! I discovered him between the Living Room sheer drape and window. With flat hands firmly against his body, I manoeuvred him sufficiently, forcing him through his clawed screen hole. Promptly, I closed the window...and chased him off the balcony. He made a flying leap from this third floor level to the tarmac below, fleeing into the undergrowth and trees. I longed to charge him with unlawful Break and Enter. Neither squirrel has returned.

The last week of July this summer, I surprisingly discovered that someone (?) was building a nest on one of my black wrought iron chairs...straw, small twigs, grasses both long and short...raggedly circular in shape and very shallow. Who can this be? Not squirrels...not their type of construction!

The following are my observations detailing activity over the next several days.

July 31 (Saturday) A beautiful summer morning to enjoy breakfast and the daily Spectator on the balcony...selecting a chair on the far side of the table to savour  the morning cool breeze and to observe the street activity. Returning for a coffee refill, I glanced back before opening the door...SURPRISE! A Bird on the Nest!

I had been sitting about 2 feet from this nest! Her colouring was totally camouflaged with the earth browns. Why didn't she fly when I opened the door? Why didn't she fly when I sat so close to her? She must be protecting eggs! Who is she? First impression...a dove(?)...light tan to light beige...darker wings with black spots...a long pointy-tail of dark brown that could possibly flash some white feathers...head is smoothly rounded with large black polka-dot eyes...approximately 8 inches long from her beak to tip of tail feathers...she sits with her neck scrunched down into her body (extended she could be 10 to 12 inches). I name her “Rosie” and observe that she is always there, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. I describe her to Sherrie, a long time friend of bird interest who e-mailed me links to Wild Bird sites. “Does Rosie look like this?”, she asks. Then viewing another site,”Is this her?” YES...I located a picture similar to my Rosie complete with black spots on her wings. She is a Mourning Dove (strange how I always considered it spelled Morning). I've taken a few photos of Rosie who permits me to come close, seated on the nearby “coffee chair”. She steadily watches me with cautious eyes. Sol recommends that I place on the table for her nourishment, a small dish of fresh water daily plus some edible seeds.

..................................................................

Since I am her “neighbour” for the next several days, I decided to investigate her.

Doves, like pigeons, mate for Life. They may mate 3 to 4 times each season, usually returning to the same nest location.

Doves are used as a symbol of fidelity as they sit closely together in pairs...as Love Birds.

Henrick wrote, “Oh have I heard both youth and virgins say,

                           Birds choose their mates and couple too, this day;

                           But by their flight, I can now derive

                           When I shall couple with my Valentine.”

Doves were the favourite birds of Venus...they define Loyalty, Love and Peace.

Remember, that Noah used a bird to scout out dry land...”And the dove that descended.....”

Mourning Doves are 1 of 12 species who live and breed in Southern Canada and United States.

Adult birds, male and female, are of equal size and colouring...grayish, possibly blue tinged (especially on the head area) or grayish brown. Their breasts are beige or rosy-beige, finely feathered.

The dove's song is its most distinctive feature...a mournful “whoo-ah, whoo, whoo, whoo, which could be interpreted as “coo-ah, coo, coo, coo”.

Habits of the Mourning Doves

When mating, they perform a courtship “coo” on a display perch with a series of manoeuvres. They remain together for a few days before starting to build their nests. After finding his mate, the male selects a nest site. The construction takes over 10 hours and covers a span of about 3 to 4 days. It may be used for 3 or 4 sets of eggs...the pair returning frequently to the same nest within the same season. Of interest: Mourning Doves have the longest breeding season of all North American birds.

The nest is built about 5 to 25 feet above the ground in the crotch of a tree or shrub. (A friend related that mourning doves built their nests atop her light fixture outside the kitchen door...her neighbour, with a good view, would telephone to advise her of bird activity.)

Their food consists of seeds and grains which, when ground up creates “pigeon milk” or “crop milk” which either parent can feed to their young...this nourishing food contains protein and fat.

The female lays 2 small oval eggs in an open shallow nest. These are incubated for 14 to 15 days continually...the male bird takes the “day shift” and the female the “night shift”. The parents will care for the young until they reach 25 to 27 days of age...when they are more accomplished at flying. The young are able to breed by 85 days old.

The fledglings, in 14 to 15 days, may leave the nest occasionally, returning “home” frequently until mature enough to venture out.

The 1 1/2 inch babies, one might find ugly and fragile...leather-like-looking hair, eyes still closed. The parents sit over their little family continually night and day. Their heads are bald and black spotted or streaked, their bodies multi-coloured of beige, gray and charcoal. They transform into fledglings as their feathers grow. The mortality rate in their first year is about 60%....(sad, for the devoted parents!)

.................................................................................

It is my pleasure to follow the progress of Rosie and Mate. She trusts me even when sitting close to her...I talk and coo to her. Once, after about 7 days of incubation, I slowly moved my hand to the arm of her chair...she cautiously watched me...then to the seat, and gradually was able to touch her silky tail feathers...viewing the bit of white feather flashes among the dark browns. I have never since approached her intimately...wanting her to completely TRUST me!

August 1 (Sunday) I observe that Rosie is facing a different direction on this shallow nest...perhaps that Papa has replaced her.

One afternoon, the sun shone brightly on her body, displaying iridescent shades of pinkish-sand on her head and upper neck...another day the iridescent shades were of bluish gray in the same body area. One must be Papa...the other Mama.

August 7 (Saturday) In the morning I saw that the shallow container of seeds was spilled onto the balcony floor and had rolled under her chair.

August 9 (Monday) Thunder and heavy rain pelted down continuously for about 2 hours...I was concerned about Rosie in this “downpour” since the nest is exposed to the elements...she was totally unflinching and was steadfast in “mothering her nest”. When the rain ceased, the table was fully splattered, all contents on the balcony drenched, her nest's outer edges soaked...as Rosie dutifully “incubated her eggs.” Her body, with feathers stretched and extended covered the whole interior of the nest.

August 12 (Thursday) I sat close to her again in the afternoon with my novel and lemonade. I believe she (he) was confident enough to stand and partially move about 90 degrees, being very careful with the placement of her pink feet...visible , was a beautiful white egg... at least 1 inch in length and possibly 5/8 inch in width. How Wonderful! As Rosie resettled on her eggs, her full length was revealed....probably close to 11 inches.

August 14 (Saturday) By this date I have discovered, from further research that it is Papa on the Day Shift...and Rosie on the Night Shift.

Papa is on the nest as I enjoy breakfast, coffee and the Spec. I glance as he moves about 90 degrees...undisturbed by me...sitting very still, fluffing his feathers to cover the nest's interior. During the afternoon, the sun's warm rays radiate a bluish haze from the upper neck area to his head.

...to be continued...Part II

Merle Baird-Kerr

August 30, 2010

Moments of Amusement, Embarrassment, Fright and Magic

Life is a Kaleidoscope...of trials, tribulations, achievements, victories

of celebrations and Good Samaritan deeds. We have all experienced them.

Sometimes Life is Just...sometimes Unjust!

With you, I share a few personal experiences that carved my character

through several years of Life's Journey.

............................................................

A CREEK meandered through the farm...swamp-like in appearance. When our uncles and family came to visit, it was a  joyous time.  They loved to tease my sister, Eileen and me.  Garter snakes lived in and around the "woodhouse" attached to our home.  They would catch these harmless reptiles, chasing us with them and putting them down our necks.  I was So Frightened!  Thereafter,  I would remain in the house while they dined and chatted the hours away.  Snakes terrified me!...and still do, to this day!

MY BLONDE HAIR is very fine and tends to tangle easily. When a child, Mother braided my hair and my sister's into “pig tails”. My scalp was very tender...many ouches daily! These two braids were always adorned with colourful bowed ribbons, matching the clothing we wore. After this continual pulling of hair and constant “ouches and ooh's” Mother sent me to the village hairdresser. I was never told what was to occur. Shocked was I, when my hair was unbraided and cut off...short!!! In tears, I was so angry with Mother...and So Embarrassed...I could not accept what she did to me! What do I tell my classmates? How will others perceive me now?

Returning home to the farm, it was my turn to cut the grass beside the long driveway. With a push-mower on this hot day, tears welled in my eyes. An overhead bird, as it flew above, dropped a “splat” on my head...adding insult to injury! I was furious...and questioned what I had done to deserve all this!

WHEN WORLD WAR II was raging in Europe, I was in Grade 8. War Savings Stamps, rationed foods, shortages of luxuries were “the norm”. Brant County had a weekly early Friday evening radio program on CKPC. It featured a contest of questions and answers between any 2 teams of Grade 8 students. Four students were principal-selected and invited to meet in Brantford for a dinner hosted by the Board of Education. The superintendent, the 2 principals and 8 students assembled prior to the contest held at the radio station. I was so thrilled to be chosen from our village school. First Time Ever to Dine in a Fine Restaurant! Questions arose...what to do with all the cutlery lined each side of the dinner plate? Beautifully folded cloth serviettes, the crystal-like glasses for water and juice amazed me! The “smarts” told me to observe the adults which became valuable learning experiences. And who was this man in a black business suit called The Maitre-D? This opportunity was not only a Magic Moment, but several hours of unexpected “grown up” manners and deportment.

WE LIVED ALONG HIGHWAY 53 which winds from Hamilton Mountain to Woodstock. It was a paved road. To go to school, I would roller-skate along the pavement, always facing the traffic until reaching the sidewalk at the eastern edge of the village. On one Spring day, a wheel caught a pebble and threw me onto the road. My knee was skinned badly and bleeding. A Labatt beer truck eastbound, was able to avoid me and stopped. The driver was so kind. I was upset with myself for falling and embarrassed beyond reason for having a beer truck driver stop to help me. (My parents were dedicated Christians and very strongly beliefed...dances, alcohol and Hollywood were “taboo”.) To have my parents know of this 'alcohol-related incident' might result in severe punishment. The driver, with his First Aid Kit, cleaned my badly grazed knee, ointmented and bandaged it.  I thanked him very politely.  To me, he was My Good Samaritan.

My parents never knew about these frightful moments.

WITH 75 ACRES to farm and livestock to care for, my sister and I assisted with many of these chores: gathering eggs, feeding the chickens, picking strawberries,

planting of the yearly vegetable garden, tilling the farm soil for crops; the cutting of hay, grain and corn to fill the barn loft and silo. Since I was to have been a male heir, helping Dad became my responsibility. The nearby farmers neighboured together  with the harvesting of these crops.  Picture this.  When the hay is ripe for cutting, the tractor pulls the hay mower which I rode, tripping the "load carrier" into furrows of freshly cut hay.  Here it would lay for several days to be dried by the sun. Then, when cured, the tractor would pull a wagon  plus the attached hay loader, straddling each furrow.  I drove the tractor.  My Dad and a neighbour on the wagon accepted the hay and dispersed it evenly on the wagon as it came upwards from the ground.  When the wagon was full, we detached the hay loader and drove to the barn side where a trap door to the loft would be opened.  A rope pulley with a giant pincer-fork-grip was lowered to grasp loads (one at a time) to be transferred from the wagon to the loft for cattle and horse fodder over the winter months.

On one such occasion, a lengthy garter snake came up the hay loader onto the wagon. The assisting neighbour, thought it a great “prank” to fling this wriggling green snake to me, landing on my shoulder. I was terrified...stopped the tractor and fled from the field. My Dad would not permit me to play Ladies Fastball that evening with the Burford Bluebirds. I was mortified!

WITH THE HARVESTING of grain, my uncles and neighbours again co-operated. The big noon day meal was dinner! My mother was a great cook...these ravenously hungry men thought her “divine”. All the food was placed on a long table seating all the men. Bowls were always passed in one direction form man to man for each to “load his plate”. One neighbour took a large serving of “cole slaw” and savouring the taste, quickly discovered it was strong horse radish. Wow! Uncle Willie loved my mother's desserts...especially cherry pie, being his favourite. He had 2^nd and 3^rd slices, telling mother how super-delicious it was. She asked, “Willie, what did you do with the pits?” “What pits?” he questioned. She commented that she'd not had time to pit the cherries prior to baking. How amusing these two incidents!

JIM SCHOFIELD was very fond of my sister. In High School, he “drove a car”! One of the Few! Once a month a “tea dance” was held for students. Our parents would never permit us to attend these (why? because dancing with a man might lead to pregnancy). Eileen wished to attend these with Jim. She asked me to tell our parents that she was “researching some material in the Library”. Later he would drive her home....letting her out of his car, away our farm home. (Yet, for our parents, it was OK for her to be involved with the drama classes and musicals.) I found it amusing that I was part of this plot to “'cover for her” while she and Jim enjoyed themselves socializing with the many students.

FOR TWO SUMMERS our parents arranged for us to attend a Christian camp for teens held at Port Ryerse along the shore of Lake Erie. During these 2-week holidays, we had work details to accomplish...setting up and preparation of tables in the dining hall with clean-up after each meal, dishwashing, serving the meals, garbage removal. It was such fun with all these teens and the aquatic activities. We had never learned to swim. (Whiteman's Creek just north of the village was where “learning to swim” was experienced...our parents forbade us to go to this swimming hole...where it was “jump... and swim or sink”). The Lake water was shallow; several feet from shore was a floating dock which was an open invitation to swim to and loll in the sun. All friends encouraged Eileen and me to wade through the water to reach it. I asked about the water depth, but was ensured, “It's easy to reach.” I nearly drowned as there was a section where the water was over my head and I was upset by the waves. I moved frantically, trying to turn myself around to face the shore, hoping I would survive...I believe a lake nymph came to my rescue.

WHILE ATTENDING my final year of College in Toronto, a friend became engaged. We arranged a Bridal Shower for her. The usual games and conversation ensued. After the opening of gifts, each “guest” was given a wrapped gift. One at a time, a gift was opened which generated fun and much interest. I had a round tin with a lid on the top to remove. Out sprang a long green snake...artificial, it was..but so traumatized me, the plate and teacup on my lap, fell crashing to the floor, breaking and spilling badly!

FOLLOWING GRADUATION, I returned home to work for the summer at Spalding's Sport Factory. My father had sold the farm and moved to Brantford where he physically built a service-station-garage selling Supertest gasoline. My father still treated me as a teenager, insisting on curfew hours and strictly governing my activities. Unfortunately, I had to make the decision to move out (to my mother's chagrin). I urgently needed money to attend Teachers' College in September. I boarded with a family affiliated with the church I attended. Mom knew where to reach me. At the end of August, my Dad telephoned, requesting to meet with me. He had a cheque in the amount of $200 from the IODE (Independent Order of the Daughters of the Empire)...a bursary given to selected students embarking on extended education toward the building of a career. Somehow, somewhere , this organization heard of my financial plight. What a Magical Moment! Of equal importance, the relationship with my Father was reinstated.

ON WEEKENDS, when home from Teachers' College, I would often walk to the Arena to ice-skate. With white skates slung over my shoulder, I briskly walked in the winter air to enjoy a few hours of activity. A carload of guys slowly drove by, and with the window run down, someone yelled, “If I had a swing like that in my back yard, I'd cut the ropes!” I was So Embarrassed!

AFTER MY SECOND YEAR of teaching,I spent the summer on a tour of Europe. My parents drove me to Montreal to board the ship for Scotland. For my Dad, this was “a high”...seeing this ship that was to cross the ocean...he was awed by the opportunity to board it for 30 minutes. He seemed so proud that I was “living his dream”. After docking on the Scottish shore, we boarded a tour bus, meeting our travel companions...passengers from all walks of life and varied ages. At one rural area, we stopped along the road's edge to view the long-haired Highland cattle grazing on the far side of the field. Gary, a High School teacher from Hamilton, cupped his hands and mooed and mooed and continued to moo...when suddenly, a bull rushed at full speed toward him, ready to jump the fence. Gary very quickly retreated to the safety of the bus! Very Amusing!

MONDAY EVENINGS, I played badminton at Westdale Collegiate in Hamilton. It was a great recreational few hours weekly. I met John Cornale and occasionaly paired as “doubles” at a few local tournaments. He was tall and athletic, fun to be with. From spring until late fall, he played and Captained a soccer team in Oakville. It was apparent that his team would win the championship. He invited me to the Celebrations Dinner and Dance. I Could Not Dance! He asked me three times...so embarrassed that I'd never learned dance, I kept giving him excuses. So sorrily disappointed was he, that he invited someone else...how could I tell him that I was unable to accept, for fear of spoiling and ruining his triumphant evening, due to my inability to dance?

THE FOREGOING EXPERIENCE incited me to Dance! Latin American music soared within me...if only I knew what to do with this romantic, sensual beat! I have a good sense of rhythm, having studied piano,  singing with my parents when young, singing with church choirs and groups; also dueting with my sister's soprano voice in a few Toronto engagements. Enrolling at Arthur Murray's Dance Studio in Hamilton, I felt safe...here, no one knew me! One of the instructors introduced me to Richard Baird-Kerr, from Chile who had attended McMaster University and presently working at Stelco as a Research Chemist. He was learning Fox Trot and Waltz...and I the Tango, Cha Cha and Samba. We became good friends...within two years we married. When our son was four years old, we flew to Ecuador and Chile to meet Richard's family, during the months of January and February (summer months). Exciting!

WHEN MY CHILDREN were young, I remained at home about five years to stabilize their growing and learning stages. Due to no full-time teaching positions available at this point of re-establishing my career, I successfully passed the courses and qualified as a Sales Representative in Real Estate. It took a couple years to start and grow this business. I had many successful years. It was often difficult and financially challenging to raise two children and work full time, with seldom a weekend off. The recession in the late 80's and early 90's seriously affected my business. I was frightened for my family...as were most people working as Independent Contractors!!! Property values declined; real estate holdings were lost and debts accumulated. The important and significant factors in life are one's Sanity, one's Health and one's Attitude! Life has its valleys and mountains. To balance the scale of ups and downs are the Magic Moments that revitalize our lives.

Personal Friendships are among the most fundamental of Human Needs.

The quality of these friends often define the outcome
of our decisions and actions.

Someone once wrote, “Friendship doubles your joy and divides your sorrow.”

I could have written a hundred more personal experiences

resulting from Amusement, Embarrassment, Fright and Magic...

as could you, the reader.

Our emotions are severely affected and could be damaging

to our development and demeanor.

We can all reflect on individual incidents,

realizing now what we “could have, should have done”.

Remember that, “We need not Walk Alone!” Like the author of a book who credits those who researched and assisted him toward his completed writing, we can do likewise. I can attribute praise to a High School teacher, to a neighbour lady, to an elementary school principal, to 2 or 3 women from networking organizations, to a tennis buddy who at a time of diversity gave me the strength to positively face the future, to a Harley Davidson biker who introduced me to true fun, to a ski enthusiast who shared the thrill of downhill skiing at various winter resorts. A couple of years ago, while in Connecticut where my son was working, I met a wonderful gentleman at a local bridge club...a World War II Veteran who is titled, “The Oldest Military Blogger”. He is delightfully “young at heart” with a positive attitude and of intelligent mind. It is a pleasure to know him. We inspire each other to write. I respect his wisdom, his judgement and his sincerity. He is my mensch!

A friend is someone we turn to

when our spirits need a lift.

A friend is someone we treasure,

for our friendship is a gift.

A friend is someone who fills our lives

with beauty, joy and grace.

And makes the whole world we live in

a better and happy place.

Merle Baird-Kerr    (written November12, 2010)

The Moment . . .

This title... in today's newspaper introduced a cartoon ~ Rhymes with Orange.

The middle-aged “man of the house” wearing striped pyjamas is propped up against a single pillow in his four-poster double-size bed.  On one side is a shag floor mat, the other side a small table with a vase of flowers and a glass half-filled with water. A scenic mountain picture hangs on the wall. His wife, knitting, sits on a chair drawn close to his bed. She quits her needles, seriously facing her husband as he speaks. “I saw a bright light and went towards it. Suddenly words appeared, 'Are you sure you want to shut down now?' I chose 'cancel' and here I am!”

“Moment” is defined as a brief, indefinite interval of time; a particular period of importance, influence or significance in a series of  events or developments.

Perhaps you, the reader, has had a “Moment in Life” that transformed your thinking...perhaps a decision that impacted a positive change

 or a path that led to unexpected achievement.

Consider these Historic Moments

Charles Lindbergh (an American aviator) at 7:52 AM on May 20, 1927 gunned the engine of his “Spirit of St. Louis” and aimed her down the dirt runway of Roosevelt Field, Long Island. Heavily-laden with fuel, the plane bounced down the muddy field, gradually becoming airborne. Thirty three and one-half hours and 3,500 miles later, he landed in Paris...the first to fly the Atlantic Ocean alone!

The spectacular 1937 destruction of the German dirigible Hindenburg, called into severe question , one of the first means of realizing man's dream of flying.

The Second World War...a military conflict that began in 1939. The climactic battle of WWII ended with the D-Day invasion on Normandy Beach June 6, 1944...the Germans surrendered.

The Moment of Silence is observed each Remembrance Day at 11 AM (November 11 in Canada)...a period of silent contemplation, prayer, reflection or meditation...to honour those who have served our country in wartime.

On July 20, 1969, Apollo 11 was the spaceflight which landed the first humans on the Moon! Neil Armstrong declared, “That's one small step for Man; one great leap for Mankind.”

“Women Sharing a Chemical Moment in Time” brought together women chemists from 37 countries on January 18, 2011 using modern communication tools...to meet for a “breakfast meeting” in similar time zones linked to the other countries...from Poland to Prague, The Netherlands, Germany, Peru,

Liverpool, Colombia, etc.

To tread back into history... meet Dr. Marie Curie who is known to the world as the scientist who discovered radio-active metals i.e. Radium and Polonium. She was a Polish physicist and chemist who lived 1867 to 1934.

In Today's World, Consider:

...a camera photo, capturing a Memorable Moment, forever to be viewed.

...the Wedding Day when two lives unite, wedded in matrimony with promises declared to each.


...Olympic joy when an athletic record is set and a gold medal awarded.

...accolades when an actor is announced as an Academy Award recipient.

...the Touchdown pass that wins a toughly fought game.

...the Home Run that wins a World Series Baseball game.

...a Grand Prix Jump-off when it is often the fraction of a second that decides the winner.

...the first bloom on a newly planted rose bush.

Today, the cartoon, aforementioned, was the source of my ruminations about Moments in Life.

The most significant moment in My Life was when our son was born! Full term, he was...at eight pounds, rosy complexioned with chubby cheeks, perfectly formed hands and feet, dark hair (as his father's); a wonderful treasure to cherish ~ as he lay upon my then deflated tummy.

Truly, a Miraculous Minute!

Significance of Birth as a Landmark Moment...is attaining Personhood!

A man in love beautifully comments, “All that matters is the serenity
of the moment;

just being with her...and breathing with her!”

“We must not allow the clock and the calendar

to blind us to the fact

that each moment of life is a miracle and a mystery.”

(H. G. Wells)

Merle Baird-Kerr

(written July 26, 2011)

A Child's View of Retirement

After a Christmas break, a teacher asked her young pupils

how they spent their holidays. One small boy wrote the following:

“We used to spend Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live here in a big brick home.  But Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Florida.  Now they live in a place with a lot of other retarded people. They all live in little tin boxes. They have three-wheeled tricycles and they all wear name tags because they don't know who they are. They play games and do exercises too. But they don't do them pretty good.

There is a swimming pool there. They go in it and just stand there with their hats on. I guess they don't know how to swim. As you go into their park, there is a doll house with a little man sitting in it. He watches all day so they don't get out without him seeing them. When they sneak out, they go to the beach and pick up shells that they think are dollars.

My Grandma used to bake cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody cooks, they just eat out. They eat the same things every night - “early birds”. Some people are so retarded they don't know how to cook at all. So my Grandma and Grandpa bring food into the 'wrecked hall” and they call it 'potted luck'. My Grandma says that Grandpa worked all his life and earned his retardment. I wish they would move back up here but I guess the little man in the doll house won't let them out.”

This poem I love...and titling it...The Modern Grandma of Today

In the dim and distant past,

When Life's tempo wasn't fast,

Grandma used to rock and knit,

Crochet, tat and babysit.

When the kids were in a jam

They would always count on Gram.

In an age of gracious living,

Grandma was the gal for giving.

Grandma, now, is in the gym

Exercising to keep slim.

She's off touring with the bunch,

Taking clients out for lunch.

Driving north to ski or curl...

All her days are in a whirl.

Nothing seems to stop or block her...

Now that Grandma's off her rocker!

Merle Baird-Kerr

(written June 13, 2011)

To All the Kids Who Survived

 in the 1930's, 40's, 50's 60's and 70's!

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank

while they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can...

and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then after that trauma , we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs

covered with bright coloured lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets

and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets,

not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking.

As infants and children, we would ride in cars with no car seats,

booster seats, seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a pick-up on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends from one bottle

and NO ONE actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank Kool-Aid

made with sugar, but we weren't overweight because

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day,

as long as we were back when the street lights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were OK.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps

and then ride down the hill only to find out we forgot the brakes.

After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did NOT have Play Stations, Nintendo, X-boxes; no Video Games at all;

no 150 Channels on Cable, no Video Movies or DVD's; no “surround-sound";

no CD's, no Cell Telephones, no Personal Computers; no Internet or Chat-Rooms...!

WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth

and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt

and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10^th birthdays,

made up games with sticks and tennis balls

and although we were told it would happen,

we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door

or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them!

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team.

Those who didn't, had to learn to deal with disappointments.

Imagine That!!!

The idea of a parent “bailing us out” if we broke the law

was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers,

problem solvers and inventions...ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovations and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility

and we learned How to Deal With it All!

If you are one of us...Congratulations!

You might want to share this with others

who have had the luck to grow up as kids,

before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives

'for our own good' !

Quote of the month by Jay Leno: “With hurricanes, tornadoes, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunder and lightning storms...

tearing up the country from one end to another

and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks...

are we sure this is a good time

to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?”

Merle Baird-Kerr

(written June 12, 2011)

Address ... to Children of Today

A neighbour's kid asked the other day, “What was your favourite fast food when you were growing up?” “We didn't have fast food when I was growing up,” I informed him...”all the food was slow”..

“C'mon, seriously. Where did you eat?”, he questioned. “It was a place called ...at home,” I explained.

“Mom cooked every day and when Dad got home from work, we sat down together at the dining room table, and if I didn't like what she put on my plate,  I was allowed to sit there until I did like it.”

By this time the kid was laughing so hard I was afraid he was going to suffer serious internal damage, so I didn't tell him the part about how I had to have permission to leave the table. But here are some things I would have told him about my childhood if I figured his system could have handled it.

“Some parents NEVER owned their own house, never wore Levis, never set foot on a golf course, never travelled out of the country or had a credit card.

“In their later years they had something called a revolving charge card. The card was good only at Sears Roebuck...or maybe it was Sears & Roebuck. Either way, there is no Roebuck anymore. Maybe he died.

“My parents never drove me to a soccer practice. This was mostly because we had never heard of soccer. I had a bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds, and only had one speed...slow.

“We didn't have a television in our house until I was 19. It was, of course, black and white and the station went off the air at midnight, after playing the national anthem and a poem about God. It came back on the air at about 6 am. And there was usually a locally produced news and farm show on, featuring local people.

“I was 21 before I tasted my first pizza...it was called...'pizza pie'. When I bit into it, I burned the roof of my mouth and the cheese slid off, swung down, plastered itself against my chin and burned that, too.

It's still the best pizza I ever had.

“I never had a telephone in my room. The only phone in the house was in the living room and it was a party line. Before you could dial, you had to listen and make sure some people you didn't know weren't already using the line.

“Pizzas were not delivered to our home. But milk was...and bread sometimes.

“All newspapers were delivered by boys and all boys delivered newspapers...my brother delivered a newspaper, six days a week. It cost 7 cents a paper, of which he got to keep 2 cents. He had to get up at 6 each morning. On Saturday, he had to collect the 42 cents from his customers. His favourite customers were those who gave him 50 cents and told him to keep the change. His least favourite customers were the ones who seemed to never be home on collection day.

“Movie stars kissed with their mouths shut. At least, they did in the movies. There were no movie ratings because all movies were responsibly produced for everyone to enjoy viewing, without profanity or violence or most anything offensive.

“Growing up isn't what it used to be, is it?”

If you grew up in a generation before there was fast food, you may want to share some of these memories with your children or grandchildren. Just don't blame me if they bust a gut laughing!

(The foregoing was related to me by a long-time friend...

and realizing I had experienced most of the above,

I wished to share her comments with you.)

Merle Baird-Kerr

(written June 12, 2011)