We were advised by our hosts that should we go to these woods early in the morning, place bread in our hands and hold them out, the scrub jays would come and eat from our extended palms.
Six-thirty a.m. arrived and I awoke. My stirring about awakened BBBH, who claims there is no six-thirty in the morning.
We prepared ourselves and presented at the appointed time; made the trip to the woods. This is what you would have beheld had you driven up on these crazy people. That is what you would have thought. And you might have been right.
As my arms tired from holding aloft a dozen bread crumbs, which got heavier and heavier with each passing moment, I declared that our "friends" had taken us on a snipe hunt. No, I was assured. Sometimes it takes a half hour to attract the birds. Half hour? Yikes! Well, you don't expect to always catch a fish instantly upon casting the bait into the water, I was told. Be patient. I was. We were. So were the birds, who, I am convinced, were in the scrub laughing their little heads off. I hope. That they laughed their heads OFF, that is.
We departed the woods, saving the bread for another excursion. Yeah, right. We went into the village and had breakfast. Now that's more like it!
The trip to the woods was not a complete loss, birdwise. We passed a flock of wild turkey, comprised of perhaps a dozen hens and a tom who was sporting his fan! Also saw two storks and assorted waterfowl.
5 comments:
I suppose everybody has to learn it sooner or later. You just can't count on the jays.
Funny! Been on a snipe hunt but not as the one holding the bag.
What's with people wearing short in February? And outdoors at that! I'm going to put another log on the fire.
Definitely snipe hunting...
Jim, we're guessing that jays are unreliable.
Vee, we have verified that the jays really do eat from the hand-- if they've a mind to.
Chuck, shorts are not my style, but it is warm enough here for most people.
Grace, so we thought.
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