Have you ever wondered where all of the colorful wild birds have gone? I had never given much thought to this until recently. A friend and I were talking about these beautiful little creatures that God has given us to brighten up the world. I can remember as a boy walking around our woods when I would see six or eight varieties of wild birds. Although we live in town now, there are still places where wild birds hang out.
I remember seeing pretty Killdeer in freshly plowed fields during planting time some sixty years ago. Meadowlarks were also found in abundance as the soil was turned for planting. Many is the time I would shoot at these colorful birds with my trusty Daisy air rifle. However, I do not ever recall hitting one. They were fairly easy to walk upon, but the least noise would scare them away. They would land as a group.
I was told by my father that these birds were not edible because some kind of worm could be found in their breast. To my knowledge, neither the Killdeer nor the Lark did any harm to the crops. I have not seen either in years around the countryside. They may have fallen prey to some small animal or to some of the chemicals used in farming today.
Thanksgiving Day was a special hunting time for the young boys and men as well when I was growing up. B-B shots were available in most grocery stores at the going rate of a nickle a tube, which gave the hunter 50 shots at something.
My father was terribly strict about killing anything except for food or something that might be a pest to keeping good land.
I remember another bird that had a beautiful orange breast with brown feathers that my playmates and I called a “joree.” This may have been the beautiful Baltimore Oriole. This bird would be considered easy game because its habitat was in thickets, making it easy to catch them off guard.
Then there was the Brown Thrush. Its eggs were off-white with tiny brown specks. This fellow had a beautiful sound, especially when threatened. I remember the threatening calls blue jays made when we came too close to them. One of the prettiest of all wild birds, the jays played havoc with the pecan crop. I recall bagging one of these beautiful creatures on one occasion.
The English Sparrow was always plentiful. And, finches, which had bright yellow breasts, were about the size of a thumb. The Black-capped Chickadee loved to feed on the insects found in the bark of oak trees.
I suppose my favorite of all wild birds would be the quail. This beautiful bird roosts on the ground in a circle, facing outward to protect themselves from predators. The observant hunter can locate a circle of the birds’ droppings, indicating a covey of the birds somewhere nearby.
Nothing is more beautiful than the Bluebird and the Carolina Wren.
I wish it were possible for each one of my grandsons to experience what it was like when I was a child. I have such wonderful memories of those days.
Lest we forget ...
T&D Columnist Rinehart Chewning is a longtime resident of Holly Hill. His column appears every Saturday.