Blog Calendar
| ◄ July ► |
| S | M | T | W | T | F | S | | | | | | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | | |
| Archive | RSS |
About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
|
Daily Cascade
Since my old blog "Everyday Canvas "  became overfilled, here's a new one. This new blog item will continue answering prompts, the same as the old one.
Cool water cascading to low ground
To spread good will and hope all around.
| |
Prompt: Write something about birds for your Blog entry today.
-----------
I didn't know much about big birds, until we moved to Florida, until I met Sandhill Cranes. Although I had seen them from afar before, I hadn't made their acquaintance until three of them, a couple, later with their child, at the door of my porch.
Our first meeting happened when I was eating a sandwich on the porch. A couple of Sandhill Cranes came to the porch door and kept staring at me. I think I said something like, "How are you guys, today?" They both answered me, to my surprise, with their birdcalls sounding as if they were croaking. I was flabbergasted to say the least. I rose slowly and opened the screen-door. They didn't run away but took a step back. They didn't need to. Their height was close to mine, just slightly shorter than me. I'm guessing they were 4 to 4.5 ft. or so.
I broke two pieces from the bread on my sandwich and threw the bread at their feet. They took it and ate it. I went in and got a couple more bread slices. They devoured those, too. Thus, our friendship was formed. After that day, they kept coming to the porch door and croaking. So I started buying more bread and the better kind of it, since I'd heard one shouldn't feed the birds white bread. These birds, however, were different for they didn't take to much else. They wanted bread. And it was so funny because I began not to stay on the porch but got out to the yard, and stood close to them. At times, the birds and I were within one another's proximity of a foot or less.
Once, I was inside the house and didn't see them come. My husband called me with, "Your friends are here!" He was so surprised because the birds had knocked on the porch-door with their beaks. Then, some time later, they showed up with their offspring, maybe to introduce it?
After a few years, that couple ceased to come. But others came on the golf course behind the house and they didn't come too close to our house. Maybe because their vacation house was the swamp close to our neighborhood and it was taken over by a housing development. Or maybe, an alligator or an eagle got them. I never learned what happened to the couple who became my friends. Maybe it is better not to know.
I learned that, over the years, Sandhill Cranes mate for life, until one of them dies. Only then, the surviving crane will find a new mate.
Nowadays, I see other Sandhill Cranes here and there, but rarely one or two come down on the golf course. Unfortunately, those are strangers to me. I think, possibly, these big birds have had it with the humankind. Who can blame them!
-----------
I'm going to try to put up a photo that is probably more than 20 years old. It is the young crane at our porch door, which I took from the far end of the porch. The parents were probably at the side of the house, at that moment. They never liked the flash or the camera in my hand. Just the Bread!
|
© Copyright 2025 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Joy has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|
It is hard to connect with everyone.
Comment • View 3 comments 
