When Cousins Come to Visit…

The cousins are coming!
Cousins, cousins. Here come the boys.
Bedlam, mayhem, noise, noise, noise.
Blow up the air mattresses, hide the breakable toys.
Cousins, cousins. Here come the boys.

~John Forster and Tom Chapin “Cousins”

photo of a windy day — photo by Danyale Tamminga
photo of a windy day — photo by Nate Lovegren

When I was growing up, I got to see my cousins maybe once a year but never lived near extended family. It was always an exciting day when the cousins were coming for a visit, or we went to see them. Now as adults, I have sadly lost touch with several of them.

I’m particularly envious of the close relationships between ten cousins growing up on the same farm just down the road from us- essentially they live interchangeably between one house or the other. What a great way to grow up, with two families who will take you in whenever you want a change in scenery or siblings. If you are fighting with a brother or sister, you can hopefully find compatible cousins a few hundred yards away.

Now we have six grandchildren living far from one another. This week they are able to play altogether in the same room in our ordinarily quiet and boring home —-at times it is mayhem and noise noise noise, but wonderful happy giggles and games abound.

It is a perfect time to treasure these family ties between our grandchildren creating as much bedlam and mayhem as possible!

One-Time
Monthly
Yearly

Make a one-time or recurring donation to support daily Barnstorming posts

Make a monthly donation

Make a yearly donation

Choose an amount

$10.00
$25.00
$50.00
$5.00
$15.00
$100.00
$5.00
$15.00
$100.00

Or enter a custom amount

$

Your contribution is deeply appreciated.

Your contribution is appreciated.

Your contribution is appreciated.

DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly

Drilling Away

The woodpecker keeps returning
to drill the house wall.
Put a pie plate over one place, he chooses another.
There is nothing good to eat there:
he has found in the house
a resonant billboard to post his intentions,
his voluble strength as provider.
But where is the female he drums for? Where?
I ask this, who am myself the ruined siding,
the handsome red-capped bird, the missing mate.

~Jane Hirshfield “The Woodpecker Keeps Returning”

A woodpecker once,
A sort of a dunce,
And who as a warbler not much of a siren,
Passed by many trees
Where he might have with ease
Bored out a nice hole to his hunger appease,
For a lofty church steeple made out of sheet iron.

He whetted his bill,
And then with good-will
And a thrumpty-thrum-thrum he started to bore,
Nor let up until
The end of his bill
Was worn off so much that it gave him a chill
And the back of his bobber began to get sore.

A black bird and wren,
A rooster and hen,
A crow and a sparrow were watching him drill,
And squinted one eye
At his birdship so high,
So far from the earth that he looked like a fly
And wondered how long he could work with good-will.

When his bobber gave out
He gave a faint shout
To the crowd that was watching him down on the ground,
And said, Come up here
Where the air is so clear
And lend me a hand, for a worm is so near
Whenever I peck I can hear his faint sound.

Then the blackbird and wren
And the sparrow and hen
And the crow that were watching him, called from below
And said, “Silly Goose,
Your work’s of no use,
You might drill in that iron until your head’s loose.
You have no more sense than some men that we know.”

~Ed Blair “The Foolish Woodpecker”

Piliated woodpecker

A bold piliated woodpecker in Rockport, Massachusetts made the news last week about his destructive rampage through that community, cracking mirrors and windows on vehicles. He is attacking his reflection as a potential competitor.

He’s been nicknamed the “piliated pillager.” His aggressive attitude and bright topknot of unruly feathers is reminiscent of another public figure who won’t be stopped from destroying things.

We have a variety of these little fellows here on the farm. One would think the loud rat-a-tats emanating from trees and buildings would be due to similar bold and fearless birds. Yet our woodpeckers tend to be visitors seldom-seen yet most-audible. They project a loud and noisy presence to the ear but prefer to be invisible to the eye.

I guess they don’t want us witnessing their repetitive self-induced head trauma

These noisy birds are a reminder of how some people hammer away on social media, often using lots of capital letters. They desperately want to be heard and acknowledged, wanting their opinions to resonate and reverberate for all to hear.

Whenever I hear an insistent pecking echoing from on high, I try to spot the offending and ornery woodpecker who is claiming dominance over the airwaves and his intended targets. There is no question he has once again succeeded in getting my attention, even if my sole reaction is to shake my head at his utter foolishness — he has no more sense than some men I know…

Flicker
Downy woodpecker

“If only, if only, ” the woodpecker sighs
The bark on the trees was as soft as the skies…
~from the story “Holes”

AI image created for this post
One-Time
Monthly
Yearly

Make a one-time or recurring donation to support daily Barnstorming posts

Make a monthly donation

Make a yearly donation

Choose an amount

$10.00
$25.00
$50.00
$5.00
$15.00
$100.00
$5.00
$15.00
$100.00

Or enter a custom amount

$

Your contribution is deeply appreciated.

Your contribution is appreciated.

Your contribution is appreciated.

DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly