Birds on the Prairie

I spent much of my time as a child on the ranch outdoors exploring.  The pastures and windbreak curving around the barn and house harbored many birds.  As an aspiring naturalist, I searched for nests in the trees and wrote down where I found them and how many eggs were in each.  Every several days I checked the nest to see if anything had hatched yet and watched the progress of the new little birds.  There were crude twig nests of turtle doves with several medium sized eggs. I loved their peaceful cooing in the evening and the quiet swoosh of their winged flight. Even their muted soft brown plumage was soothing.

   Meadowlarks created tight grass nests in in the weeds. Their  beautiful liquid melody brightened the mornings on the ranch as they sat on the fence post in the pasture tipping their beaks to the sky spilling notes through the air. The black V blazed on the Meadowlark breast against yellow and white demands your attention as well as their song.  Meadowlarks would hop from the low step up at the front door into the sprinkler going in the front yard grass enjoying cooling off in the warm summer days. Diminutive black Bob-O-Links with a white splashed wings flitted in the pastures lighting on the barbed wire fences. Like the Meadowlark, these little birds nested in the tall grasses along the fence rows.  Their small light blue eggs are smaller versions of a Robin's.  Killdeer birds skittered along the ground in the corrals or in the pastures calling "killdeer--killdeer." These mother birds would drop a wing assuming a wounded posture to draw an intruder's attention from her nest precariously placed on the ground.  It is not surprising that so many birds nested on the ground on the naturally treeless prairie.

 The barn offered protection and many prime spots to nest for sparrows. Because these birds made such a mess on the sale seats, windows and pens in the barn, Dad wanted to discourage their nesting there by pulling the nest down as they built them. However, with their expansive numbers there were always nests to find and see the baby birds which are rather unsightly with semi-transparent skin covering bulging sealed eyes and throbbing blood vessels. Their mouths would open wide expecting food from a source they could not see.  Swallows were other unwelcome guest who swabbed their muddy nests under the eaves of the barn or the garage.  Their swooping flight in the evening sunlight created artistic silhouettes at dusk. Blackbirds drove away other birds that we enjoyed having around, so we viewed them as rouge intruders as well.  Finally, the noisy magpies annoyed everyone from the barn yard cats to humans

 Majestic golden eagles hunted the prairie surrounding the ranch.  Grandpa would take us in the spring to see their large twig nests built on rocky bluffs.  Hawks built nests high on the older trees around Grandpa and Grandma's house.  There was no chance of seeing into these nests far out of our reach, plus the dive bombing hawks kept us at a safe distance.  These birds of prey hunted the numerous ground squirrels and mice scurrying through the grasses, doing us a favor in the process. 

Life on the ranch provided opportunity to see nature in action.  My curiosity led me to observe and learn about these birds and books from the local library offered pictures to help me identify different birds as well.  I certainly appreciate God's creativity.

Cats

The large sale barn provided refuge for multiple cats.  For some reason my dad liked white cats, and the first one I remember was Snowball, a short-haired white female with blue eyes.  One problem with white cats is tendency for their ears sunburn, especially in the winter with the harsh sun reflecting off the snow. So, poor Snowball had sunburned ears that peeled and curled slightly.  Even though she looked a little rough, she produced yearly litters of precious little white kittens.  Many of these kittens were long-haired with blue eyes, looking  just like the an idealized toy for a little girl.  Another memorable cat given to us by someone in town was Leonard.  Now Leonard's rather unremarkable muddled colors did not distinguish her, yes her-- Leonard had a litter of kittens before long and continued to procreate quite effectively. Puss, a huge sleek black tom cat, was a favorite of mine.  He would walk along the top board of the alley pens looking for attention and leap onto my shoulder as I walked by.  I learned to be ready for his hefty impact, though he never used his claws to secure his perch on me.  As a result of cats like Snowball, Leonard and Puss, thirty to forty cats took up residence in our barn.  These cats hunted and helped keep the rodent population at bay protecting the sacks of grain stored in the barn, but even with success in hunting, they mewed longingly as Dad milked the cow, waiting for their share in a pan once he finished.  Mom insisted that we take any table scraps to the barn so the cats weren't underfoot waiting on the steps of the house for their handout.

I throughly enjoyed these cats.  In the spring, finding the first litter of kittens signaled the beginning of a delightful season. Newborn kittens with eyes sealed closed would hiss at my unfamiliar scent in the beginning, but I played with these kittens so much their fear dissipated quickly.  Kittens' acrobatic antics provided me hours of entertainment.  They would spring straight up into the air to pounce on each other and roll and tumble in pretend fighting.  Wiggling my fingers in the hay would entice a kitten to crouch and tackle my fingers.  My hands and arms would be streaked with red scratches from their tiny razor-like claws as a result of their tussling with me in play as I lay in the hay. Playing with the kittens instead of getting my chores done in a timely manner was a continual temptation.  I must confess that once when I had instructions to fill the water pails for the show bulls at midday in the summer, I let my attention drift from my responsibility to these playful kittens, until I heard my dad's pickup drive into the yard. In desperation, I hastily filled the buckets half full to make it seem like I had followed instructions promptly. 

I still like cats and I have two, the only two in the litter, a calico and a tan tabby.  My husband remarks that they are an added  dimension, which is not necessarily a positive comment in his opinion because they do sharpen their claws on things they shouldn't, mess up stacks of papers and throw up on the carpet, but he tolerates them for my sake.  Although cats have a reputation for being aloof, my felines keep me company constantly; nearly anytime I sit down at least one is on my lap. I enjoy their company and they remind me of many hours of playing in the barn in my childhood.

Books

I love books.  When I was growing up my mom took us by the city library each week when we were in town for groceries, music lessons or other appointments.  I remember being enthralled with The Secret Garden or beautifully illustrated books of fairy tales.  Animal stories of horses, dogs, wolves or other creatures gave me insights into life from an animal's perspective.  Living on the ranch, I could easily imagine these tales of survival and adventure.  I could envision becoming a naturalist who observed and followed various animals in their secret world. Over time, I graduated to reading every Nancy Drew mystery on the shelves, delighting in her various capers. The monthly Scholastic book orders offered opportunity to have my own copies of books as well. I decided to get classics like War and Peace, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre and others to read as a sixth grader. I read and enjoyed these books, but looking back I realize that I only brushed the surface in my understanding, in part because of my youth and not having anyone to discuss these with.  However, at the time, that made no difference to me.  Growing up, I spent the evenings in my room reading rather than watching TV with the rest of the family. Being transported to other worlds through the printed page and letting my imagination paint the picture was much better than sitting in front of a black and white TV screen.

 English was my favorite subject in high school giving me opportunity to read and discuss great literature with others and get ideas for new books to read as well.  So English seemed the natural choice for a college major which further broadened my horizons to new authors and ideas. As a high school English teacher, I was the one choosing the reading list for my students and was able to revisit many books I had read as a student.  Each time I re-read a book, I gained a deeper appreciation for the authors' ideas and craft, and I read the books again each year I taught them so the ideas would be fresh in my mind as I taught.  I delighted in seeing my students enjoy and develop an appreciation for literature as well.  Getting a Master's degree in English continued the process of new authors and a greater understanding of their writings.

I no longer teach, but my love of books continues to grow.  Participating in a monthly book club pushes me to read books I would not have considered or known about without the input of others in my group.  I find it stimulating to branch out into new types of literature from what I would normally choose.  Hearing about what others think challenges me in my thought processes.  The University library has a used book sale once a month which is even better than the Scholastic book order.  I find some of the best books there, ones that inspire me in writing and model the craft I so admire.  Finding books about country life or those who pioneered in the West are my favorite finds because these are things I can relate to and understand well. I do love books!