 Rough Sough It’s a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west land, the old brown hills. And April’s in the west land, and daffodils. Poem by John Masefield Aren’t those lovely sentiments? This is the first stanza of a poem I memorized in elementary school. It conjures up images which depict the wind as nothing short of a source of wonder for poets. But the wind blowing through the Cariboo on Monday had people reaching for things other than pens. The day before the big blow I wrestled with the problem of how to maintain bird feeders while away at an upcoming house-sit. My challenge involved keeping feeders filled, and stopping a marauding bear from turning any available feeders into rubble the moment my back was turned. The bear did leave one of the black sunflower feeders untouched on its last visit, but I felt that was an oversight on the bear’s part rather than an indication the bear was losing interest in sunflower seeds. After much standing back and analyzing of the situation I chose to suspend two of the seed feeders from a pulley on the corner of the house, then fill them up and pull them out of the reach of the bear. The new location of the feeder would be just a few feet from the usual spot on the corner of the lilac bush and I hoped it would be acceptable to the flocks of Chickadees. After raising the apparatus I would watch and see what the birds thought of the new order. What I had in mind did not appear difficult to arrange but I must admit that the laws of physics confound me. To make things easier I based my configuration of eye screws, and pulley positions, on a hummingbird feeder I’ve seen attached to the eaves of another house. After a number of changes and variations, I finally achieved a workable design. I attached a feeder that looks somewhat like a parachute to a hook tied to a rope running through a pulley. The roof is a bunged out metal bottom of a barrel and on a threaded rod underneath the roof is a seed container made from the bottom part of a plastic water container cut down to the right size. I put a bit of seed into the feeder and hoisted it into the air above what I thought was bear height. No Chickadees were immediately attracted to it, but I generally have no shortage of alternate plans. The Chickadees insisted on going to their favorite feeder in the lilac bush, a feeder I wouldn’t leave out for the bear, but if I added a hook to the bottom of the parachute feeder, I could hang their favourite feeder along with the new feeder. Now that the basic superstructure was in place I could supply seed to the birds without restocking the feeder for several days. The day of departure for the house-sit began all too early when I awoke in the pitch-black and discovered that all the house lights were out. Then I heard the wind. Obviously the electricity was knocked out by some tree falling against a power line. I looked out the window at the darkened neighbourhood and saw there were no lights on anywhere. I didn’t know what the time was so I tried to get some more sleep. No sooner did I lie down than I heard the crackling, ripping sound of a large tree falling. I decided that getting up might be the best idea after all. I took up a position in the front room and watched the trees in front of the house dance wildly, first in almost complete darkness, then in bleak dawn. I hoped none of the trees would topple onto the hydro line that leads to the house and each time a fierce gust of wind set them dancing I leaned toward the window and willed them to stay up. Surely a wind storm of this intensity would be over soon. I was wrong. By sunup the wind blew even more ferociously. Just before noon I loaded the car with my house sit supplies, watched the trees swaying madly around and kept a lookout for falling trees or limbs. The seed feeder in the lilac bush was twice blown off its moorings spilling the seeds, and alarming the already alarmed Chickadees. I decided now was the time to hang the old feeder beneath the new feeder and hoist the whole operation into the air. The wind decided that this jangling arrangement of stacked feeders was the perfect plaything and took every opportunity to dash them against the corner of the house. The wind continued, and appeared to grow stronger as the day progressed. It was time to leave my house for the house-sit. My last glance back at the feeders showed them whirling and spinning, almost upsetting as they flipped about. Perhaps the grinding of the metal top would saw its way through the rope of the pulley but there was no time left to dawdle. Throughout the fifteen mile drive, trees were slumped to the edges of the road with broken trunks and limbs strewn about on the pavement. Most of the fallen trees were dead pines which had succumbed to pine beetle attacks, but at least one tree was a large uprooted spruce which mantled a power pole and wires. The trees’ weight bore down pushing against the power lines each time the wind blew. A few days have passed since the big wind of 2007. Here at the house-sit the power stayed on, but the phone is still out. This morning I will pick up a few supplies in town and visit my feeders to see if they survived. In the hubbub on the windy day I forgot to remove the small suet feeder on the poplar tree and perhaps the bear made short work of it. If not, the Woodpeckers are probably thankful I didn’t set their food to spinning, as I did with the Chickadees’. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
