My friend and neighbor, Don Melnyk, told me this winter about a perplexing experience he had years ago.
Don used to work shift-work and was returning to Nolalu from work late at night when he heard the backup "beep, beep, beep" of a heavy machine in the woods nearby.
"That's odd," he thought. "I didn't know anyone was logging in that area, and why are they working so late at night?"
He listened for a long time and the backup beeping never quit. Something wasn't right, Don reasoned. Maybe somebody had been using a skidder or wood harvester and had fallen off while it was in reverse. Despite the late hour he decided to phone a neighbor nearest to where the sound was originating.
The man answered the phone fuzzy-headed and Don suggested they both get flashlights and meet at a crossroads.
Don got there with his flashlight but the neighbor, to no one's surprise, had gone back to bed.
"Well, I'm going to find out what is going on," said Don and plunged into the maze of balsam fir, jackpine and spruce in the inky darkness.
He drew ever closer to the sound until eventually his flashlight illuminated the source: a tiny little owl, the saw-whet. They make the "beep, beep, beep," sound to attract mates each spring.
Don's story reminded me of my own wild goose chase in Nolalu.
Brenda and I and our sons Matt and Josh and our black lab, Lady, moved to Nolalu in 1985 and lived in a 100-year-old homestead cabin.
The first spring we were there I heard a flock of birds one evening take off near our field. They sounded like pigeons which seemed surprising to me. There were no barns or any other such place pigeons could live in the area.
I headed in the direction of the sound when I heard it again, a little farther back in the trees. When I reached that spot I heard it again, this time behind me.
"How can I be missing an entire flock of pigeons?" I wondered.
I wish I could say I got my answer that first night but in truth it took me several evenings. I must have made a hilarious sight as I slowly stalked back and forth across the field, gazing intently at one tree or another, always to no avail.
Eventually, I looked beyond the trees into the sky beyond and there, high up in the sky, was a single, small bird. It would fly up high, then dive toward the ground. On its descent it made the sound that I had been mistaking for a flock of pigeons.
I got out my bird book and discovered it was a snipe and the sound, called winnowing, was made by air rushing through its wings as it made its daredevil plunges, again to attract a mate.
I guess in both cases it would work. After all, Don and I were certainly mesmerized.
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1 comment:
I loved reading those stories! Very funny! Thanks for sharing them both!
It reminds me of my own story wherein I had been living in my country/woods home for about 5 years. It was always a wonder living there as although each season and year had its predictable occurrences, there was always something new to see or hear or experience in some way.
One day I heard a thumping. I could not imagine someone at the door, as we lived out where unexpected visitors were rare. I went to the front door, no one there. I went to the garage door and back door, same thing. I went outside and walked around the house - no one. As the kids were in school and I was the only one home, it was puzzling. But, hearing no more thumps, I went on with my day. There was more thumping from time to time over that day and the next few days, but I never saw anyone. To make a long story short, I finally discovered it had been a grouse drumming on a log behind my house!
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