Wednesday, August 20, 2014

DIARY OF A CURLEW CARER # 4

Home alone with a  weird scarecrow

Would the  chicks survive our absence  from the house for nigh on a week ? This was the worrying  question  as  the car  was packed , ready  to drive off . The  Barking Owl , intent on eating  the  fluffy chicks , had  already  been  frightened  off  one night when I rushed out in my dressing gown , brandishing a  broom . On that occasion, the killer took  one  look at me and  fled.  A   sudden  brainstorm  just  before driving off...make an instant scarecrow to try and  keep  the Barking Owl  at bay . Grab the pre-loved wet  suit  on  a hanger in the laundry  , a chair , a lump of wood which looks like a  shrunken head –bought at a  garage sale-and a grass rake .With  these props , place the chair on the veranda tressle  table, hook the wet suit on the back of the seat   and  place the head on  the seat. Problem: horrifying head hard to see over back of the chair.  Grab three  books  from a  box –Guns,Germs and Steel ( a short history of everybody for  the last 13,000 years), Quotations from our Times and 2715 One –Line Quotations for Speakers, Writers  and Raconteurs and stick under head .  Elevated , the head looks evil and  should (hopefully) scare  the Barking Owl , also known as the Murder Bird . An arm of  the wet  suit wrapped about  the  grass rake and  the instant scarecrow looks like a Norman Rockwell  Saturday  Evening  Post  cover.

 As I drive away, I hope there is  no sudden  tropical storm and the scarecrow  falls over  and  annihilates   the  Curlew  family. Arriving back  from our trip, my wife leaps out the car, hurdles the  Berlin Wall constructed to  keep the chicks inside , and delivers the welcome news : They are  alive. There they are... much bigger , lollopping-hopping-sprinting-tumbling-fluffy headed wonders . The entire family marches into the kitchen  and says  welcome home –we want  a  feed .    As I  sit  here  this  morning  hunched over the computer before dawn , there is a tapping at the door. It is “Daddy” wanting  tucker, the rest of the  family nearby.  Sit on the  floor in a non-yoga - like  pose and  have a strange conversation  through the screen door, sometimes in a childish voice , a few imitation  bird  calls thrown in. Must not  let my  Irish doctor know about this odd behaviour when I next see him to renew  my yippy bean supply .