Bird Picnic

Birds have many faces and facets. I am sure this is not news to anyone reading this blog. Each of us has our own way of seeing them and of interacting with them. Some folks are so interested in birds as companions that they personify them and their activities, seeking meaning in everything they do. I have to admit that Gary and I, although perhaps Gary a bit more than me, fall into this category. We sit on the balcony that overlooks an inland waterway and watch a wide variety of birds pass by, commenting on what they are doing and often questioning "why?"

The incident happened when Gary and I were taking our usual afternoon walk on Juno Beach. The winds were strong, buffeting us as we walked with them one way and against on our return journey. The rip tide was strong and waves so intense that only surfers dared to do more than walk along the shoreline. It was invigorating to walk along, flirting with the water, feeling the occasional strong pull on my legs when a deeper than usual wave caught me off guard.

On the return trip, as we got closer to our chairs, I noticed a crow sitting on mine and said to Gary, "Hmm, he is making himself right at home, isn't he?" We laughed a little and then kept walking closer. A minute later I noticed that there was a lot of commotion around our chairs and backpacks. "What is going on over there?" I asked Gary, pointing at the confusion of crows and seagulls with a sinking feeling. 

Gary started running toward our things, calling back as he went, "I left my bag of trail mix out!" 

Sure enough, there were bird footprints all around our chairs, a few brave crows and seagulls stood their ground, but most flew off having achieved their goal long before we returned. The bag of nuts and dried fruit was no where to be found. Gary sat down in his chair before I could warn him of another sign of the birds' presence that stained the fabric of said chair. Both of us ended up hauling our chairs into the waves to wash them down, scrubbing as best we could to remove any lingering stains. 

Sitting in our now-clean, but wet chairs, one particular crow continued to fly closely over our heads while a few seagulls picked at the seaweed a couple feet away. They were keeping an eye on us, hoping for more free food, but we were pretty determined that this particular dream of theirs was not to be. Any remaining food was carefully zipped in the recesses of our cooler.

With a little dark humor, I pointed out that I had noticed both white and reddish-brown guano on our chairs, indicating both seagull and crow guests at our humble picnic. In the 19th Century bird guano was transported all over the world and valued as the best fertilizer available. We had clearly missed the window of opportunity to make use of the gifts those birds left behind.