Thursday, June 18, 2015

Speak to me Softly....

   I know its been awhile since I posted on my blog here.  Matter of fact, the last post was just this Memorial Day weekend 2015 and previous post was back in 2008!  A little blushing and red-faced here.

   Some friends have encouraged me to write again and share more songs that I may have.  So, here it goes.

   Speaking of songs, some of the most beautiful melodies can be heard by just taking a hike through a park, nature trail, mountain trails, wooded pathways, along river banks, or meadows.  All one needs to do is be calm, quiet and listen.  Birds can provide such beautiful music with their mating calls, cooing, singing, and chatter.  All one has to do is find a secluded spot, sit and listen, or walk  quietly along a trail in the forest.

   One afternoon I had returned to my campsite, after a nice hike and found that I had been ROBBED!  Well, actually, not really robbed.  I had left a loaf of bread out, and not packed away.  I know, stupid mistake for an experienced camper/hiker or woodsman.  Whatever, I was careless and paid a small penalty for it.  For my camp had been invaded by Camp Robbers.  Yep! These birds are actually called Camp Robbers.

   Well, everyone I knew called them CAMP ROBBERS. But they are also called the GRAY JAY (Perisoreus condenses), also CANADA JAY or WHISKEY JACK.

   They are actually one of my most favorite species of birds, for they are not afraid of humans and literally will eat right out of your hands.  Loud noises, quick movements, etc., of course will scare them away.  They travel in groups and sing when they approach or leave.

   When I was a child, living at my Grandmother's place, we used to have a group of these birds that would visit on a regular schedule in early morning.  My grandma had a plywood platform about 2 feet by 2 feet mounted flat on top of one end post of her clothes line outside.  She would faithfully put bread crumbs up on that platform to feed these birds when they arrived.

   If you put a bread crumb in your hand, one would land on your palm and take it.  Sometimes another would even try to crowd in which would cause a minor fight over who could get to sit, usually dropping the crumb to the ground where another would swoop down and grab it and fly off to a tree limb. 

   Then the BAD GUYS would come in: STELLAR JAYS. 

 (we called them Blue Jays, but after I became an adult, I found out that Blue Jays are yet another species; white body and blue wings)

 The Stellar Jays are a beautiful bird, but are more aggressive to the Camp Robbers stealing their crumbs and fighting with them, chasing them off.  My grandma would always yell at them and try to shoo them away, until the Camp Robbers would be done eating.  Then she would allow the Stellar Jays to have some bread crumbs too.

Back at my campsite, I was smiling to myself while remembering the Camp Robbers and seeing them again, friendly as ever.  I grabbed a couple more pieces of bread, broke it up to feed them.  As I sat there, they came closer and finally warmed up to me.  Landing on my shoulder, knee or arm, taking bread crumbs and flying off to a tree limb to eat. I finally had a slice of bread myself.  But I put a little bit of peanut butter on mine.

After a little while, the birds were done and mainly sat in the trees around me.  Then they started singing as they finally flew away.

With their singing, several other types of birds started chirping or singing as well.   Yes, including some Stellar Jays that were apparently following these Camp Robbers in case they found some food.  With the fond memories that were rekindled by the visit of the Camp Robbers, I wrote the following song that I will share with you now.

Speak to me Softly...

Click here if you care to listen to this song

Speak to me softly
All you birds in the trees,
And I will play you a melody.

A song about love
As it flows through the night
And vibrations
Of holding you tight.

There will come a day
When we'll be drinking our Wine
For I know that our love
WIll last a lifetime.

Some people go through out
Their various lives
Of this feeling high

Then I often think 
About the birds in the trees
And their chirping
Of this melody.


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