Sharing

Pat’s regular crow family doesn’t ordinarily let outsiders share their breakfast. Recently, though, when Pat gives the “caw caw caw caw” call, and the crows fly in or come down from the trees, two sparrows have been joining in. The crows don’t mind sharing. When they eat an English walnut or a peanut, they hold it down with their foot while they peck at it with their beak. There are always plenty of crumbs, and that’s what the sparrows clean up. Everyone gets fed, and there is no mess left behind.

Community Breakfast

Pat served an equal opportunity breakfast this morning. There were 17 crows, 1 sparrow, and 2 seagulls. There must be some changes in the food sources. The weather has been pretty bad this past week. We’ve had the Santa Ana winds, some rain, and lower temperatures. The scavenging must be pretty tough.

Dave Thomas

1/30/2025

It was the summer of 1956. I had been working two jobs but had quit the one at Howard Motors, our local Chevrolet/Buick dealer. I kept my job as the projectionist at the Augusta Drive-In Theater and planned to just enjoy working nights. I did want to stay in shape, so I went down to Penley’s Hardware and bought an axe. Three or four days a week I went down to the Walnut River and got some exercise working with the axe. Every flood would uproot trees and send them floating down the river. Wherever an eddy or an obstruction occurred, the trees would get caught and pile up until the next flood came along. It looked pretty bad, so I would get in there with my trusty axe and trim off the branches and let them and the trunks float on down the river.  It was good exercise, and I enjoyed it a lot. I also took along a 35mm camera and took pictures of anything of interest.

One day, I decided to go up to Skaer’s Farm and go horseback riding. They had a couple of saddle horses for their kids that hadn’t been getting enough exercise because the kids, Delores and Stanley were too busy. Bill Skaer told me I could ride the horses whenever I wanted, so I did, and then paid him back by mucking out the milking barn for a couple of days.

 One day, after saddling up, I decided to cut across a pasture to another road so I could see something different for a change. It was a warm, sunny day, and I must have been daydreaming or half asleep. As we went over a small rise, I was suddenly confronted by Bill Skaer’s personal horse. He was a big devil, half-Percheron or some kind of draft horse and half quarter horse. Though his front legs were hobbled, he was coming fast with his teeth bared. He nipped my horse on the rump. My horse was scared. He was dancing around and bucking a little. As my horse went nuts, he was moving around, and we got a better angle on the other horse. Suddenly, my horse let fly with both hind hooves and nailed the big horse right in the ribs. Next, my horse took off running. It seemed like a good idea, so I just headed him toward the gate.

The last part of this story is kind of funny and anti-climactic. Some time later (weeks?), there was a parade that may have been a 4^th of July parade. As the parade came down State Street, there was Bill, astride this giant horse, and he was as relaxed and easy in the saddle as a guy could be. This horse was well-behaved and acting like a good citizen. Maybe he just hadn’t liked a dumb kid riding  through his pasture.

Dave Thomas 1/23/25

Our crow friends respond to the changes noted on the calendar. By that, I mean the changes in time, the holidays, the seasons, and the weather. They were arriving at the house at 6:45 AM, but now are coming between 7:15 and 7:45. This, of course, has to do with the dawn and sun-up.

During the holidays, we sometimes didn’t see any crows for several days. We figured they had found alternate and, perhaps, better food sources. Due to the holiday meals, we figured that homes and restaurants would have more waste food in their trash cans and dumpsters. Though they weren’t showing up for breakfast, our regular group consisting of Lamefoot, Bouncer, and Clucker made it a point to stay in touch with Pat. They would come at different times during the day and fly low past the windows so Pat would see they had arrived. They would land near our front door and wait for Pat. They would listen to her stories and give their own reports and then fly away. There was no begging for food. This was just a social call.

Here’s another little story about the crows’ dining habits. A couple of people we know decided to stop for coffee at McDonald’s. They had a window seat and were able to see a trash can near the back of the building. A crow in search of a meal landed on the trash can and was looking around. There was a small box on top of the trash that apparently was covering up some choice items. Using its beak, the crow moved the box out of the way and feasted on what he found. With access to the food, he ate his fill and then took hold of the box and put it back in its original position.

The holidays are past, and the weather is several degrees cooler. The crows are coming more often. The groups are larger now also. From the original group of 3, we are now seeing 5, 9, 12 or 15 at a time. We assume these are members of the extended family. Outsiders are driven away.

Crows are omnivores and will eat anything that doesn’t eat them first. The cooler weather has probably caused a reduction in the number of bugs and small creatures that are normally part of their diet. We hope they all survive the winter okay.

Dave Thomas

1/16/2025

Fancy Meeting You Here

Pat went to the grocery store the other morning. As she pulled into the parking lot, she saw a crow sitting on the roof of the store. The crow had been quiet but when Pat got out of the car it started jabbering like crazy. That told Pat it was one of her crow friends and, being surprised to see her, it was just saying hello.

He Came Bouncing Back

Bouncer is back! Pat hadn’t seen him for over two weeks and was quite worried about him. Bouncer is one of only three crows that are easily identified. Pat gets concerned if one of them doesn’t show up.  She looked out the window this morning and there he was, bouncing around on the driveway like his skinny little legs were spring loaded.

Up, Up and Away

Have been listening to a fascinating book on CD. In The Company of Crows and Ravens by Tony Angell and John M. Marzluff is crammed full of information about these birds.  

I have become acquainted with a new word while enjoying this story.  Anthropomorphism is the act of attributing human-like qualities to non-human entities. I wish the practice was distributed in a more equitable way. We humans should have received some of the crow- like traits. I personally would like to be able to fly.

Dave Thomas

1/8/2025

I’m 88 years old, almost 88 ½. For some strange reason, this song from my childhood popped into   my head this morning and it won’t go away. It’s as hard to get rid of as the chiggers themselves.

If you are not familiar with chiggers, they are little green bugs that live in the grass. When you walk through the grass, they jump on you and go up the inside of your pant legs, bite you and bury themselves under the skin. It takes a lot of rubbing and scratching to get any relief from them.

Here’s the song:

There was a little chigger

that wasn’t any bigger

than the wee small head of a pin.

But the bump that he raises

Itches like the blazes

and that’s where the rub comes in!

Oh, the rub, yes, the rub!

That’s where the rub comes in!

The bump that he raises

Itches like the blazes

And that’ where the rub comes in.        

Dave Thomas

1/2/2025

I was in Junior High School, so it was sometime between 1947 and 1949. I was spending the day with my distant cousins, Dick and Bill Ketterman. They lived on  a farm three or four miles southeast of Augusta, Kansas, where I lived. The south side of their farm butted up against the Little Walnut River on the South Side. They lived with their parents and brother, Ed. Directly across the river was the farm of their grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Pearl Baum. Pearl was my half great, great uncle. I won’t try to explain that. It would make us all dizzy.

The guys suggested we go to the river and gig some frogs. What that actually means is that you are going to spear some frogs. You take a pole, like a broomstick, and attach a barb of some kind to it. The frogs in question are bull frogs. They are big, with bodies that are maybe eight or nine inches long, and hind legs longer than that. The goal is to get some frog legs that you can fry and eat. Yes, I know! Back then, I could spear and eat them, but nowadays, I would just want to make pets of them.

Uncle Pearl and his son, Orvis, kept a rowboat down at the river. We put it in the water and climbed aboard. The bull frogs could be found on the riverbanks, sometimes sitting in the water and sometimes not. The idea was to paddle the boat quietly as close to the bank as you could get, sneaking into spearing range when you spotted a frog. We had gotten a couple of frogs when we came to a tree growing at the water’s edge and with branches hanging down over the water. We were passing under the branches when suddenly a cottonmouth water moccasin dropped from one of the limbs and right into our boat. Wow! We were out of the boat, into the water, and scrambling for the bank like there was no tomorrow. The moccasin, a black, obscene-looking thing slipped over the gunnel and into the water. After we calmed down, we got back in the boat and continued the hunt. We got plenty of frogs, and the guys let me have four for our family.

Mom had never fried frog legs, but she prepared them and got out her big cast -iron frying pan to cook them. I’ve got to mention that me and all my friends had heard the stories about frog legs jumping around in the skillet as you tried to cook them. Sure enough, that’s what happened. I guess the nerves continued to function for some time. I don’t remember, but I suppose they tasted like chicken. That’s what they always say about rattlesnakes, turtles, and other odd meats.

The hunting and eating were two new experiences that I added to my adolescent resume.

Dave Thomas

12/26/2024

I don’t remember exactly when this story took place. It was one of those things that is interesting but insignificant. However, you find that 70 years later, most of the details seem fresh and can be recalled. When this event took place, I was working full time, so it was 1954 or 1955.

I was working at Howard Motors, our local Chevrolet/Buick dealer in Augusta, Kansas. One Monday morning, I had gotten to work early, my usual practice, so I could get a cup of coffee before the day started.  I punched in and got my coffee and saw several of the guys standing around a car as they sipped their morning coffees. I went over and joined them and got a look at the fancy little car they were talking about. They said it was a Volkswagen, a German car, and the first one they had ever seen. I don’t remember the exact comment, but they were saying how strange the car was. “It’s so tiny! The engine is in the rear! Where is the radiator? It looks like a toy beside the Buick Roadmasters!”

We found out that the Volkswagen’s owners had neglected to check the oil, and the engine had burned up. Our Service Manager, Kenneth Markley, had taken the wrecker out and towed the car in. We not only had never seen a Volkswagen, but we had never heard of them either.

Since the car was such a curiosity, it was decided that we should keep it in the garage rather than leaving it outside on the lot. If it was in the way, a couple of us could push it to another spot.

One morning, one of the guys wanted to do a front-end alignment, and the VW was so close you couldn’t use the machine. The VW just needed to be moved laterally three or four feet to make some room. Two of the mechanics were making a big deal of the move and considered it to be a big pain in the butt. Our Service Manager, Kenny, happened to be walking past and overheard the conversation. Kenny, who was a big bear of a man, stepped over to the car, took hold of the bumper, and raised the VW up waist-high. He took a couple of steps sideways and put it down. Then he walked around to the other end, picked up the car, stepped sideways, and put it down. It was all over in a few seconds, and Kenny said, “Is this where you wanted it?” The two mechanics were left standing there looking sheepish and stupid. I learned that if Kenny was ever driving a VW, he would never have a problem with parallel parking.

It took several days to get parts from the East Coast, but eventually, the VW was repaired and on its way.

Dave Thomas

12/19/2024

The summer of 1954, after graduating from high school, I was working at Howard Motors, our Chevrolet/Buick dealer there in Augusta, Kansas.

My Dad, Al Thomas, was a self-employed bricklayer. One morning, he told me that the job he was starting that day would be to apply a brick wainscoting to a home that was being remodeled. He also told me he had hired Virgil to work as a helper for him. A bricklayer’s helper mixes the mortar and keeps a supply of bricks close at hand to the building.

Dad and I both liked Virgil. He was a local farmer, in his late thirties, who was a hard worker with a sense of humor. If there was no work to do tending the crops, Virgil would hire out as a day laborer to pick up a little cash.

The day Dad mentioned the new job and Virgil, I had gone to the 7^th Street Café for lunch. After a bowl of chili, I still would have time to stop by the job site and say hello to Dad and Virgil. I got there and greeted and shook hands with Virgil. I said, “How’s it going, Virgil?” He scratched his head and said, “Well, David, this drought is mighty tough. The well is about to go dry.  The corn is burning up in the field. The cow isn’t giving milk, and the hens aren’t laying. I’m lucky to have something to fall back on.”  “What’s that?” I asked. “My ass,” he replied.

Dave Thomas

12/12/2024

We are a couple of days past Thanksgiving, and it has just occurred to me that I have a turkey story. It doesn’t amount to much, but it’s part of my history so what the heck?

After high school, I worked for a couple of years at Howard Motors, our local Chevrolet and Buick dealership in Augusta, Kansas. My boss was the Service Manager, Kenneth Markley, a heck of a nice guy. I believe it was in the summer of 1954 that Kenny came up to me and asked if I would like to make a weekend trip to Minnesota and back. Kenny’s wife was from there, and she and their two kids had spent a few weeks up there during the summer. Kenny was going up to get them and wanted someone to help with the driving. I said “yes” immediately. We left work at 6:00 P.M. and went home to clean up. Kenny picked me up about 7:00, and off we went.

Kenny drove the first few hours and then turned it over to me while he slept. I had never driven much after dark and certainly had never gone very far. It was a new experience for me, and I enjoyed every minute of it. The Interstate Highway System hadn’t been built yet, so we were driving on the U.S. highways, all two-lane roads.

Kenny’s car was a 1953 Chevrolet, Model 210 with a 6-cylinder engine and standard transmission. Kenny had only had it for a few months, and it still smelled like a new car.

We drove all night and some time, after dawn, Kenny told me we were getting close to our destination. We soon came to the official sign. It read “Brewster, Minnesota” in big letters. Below it and a little smaller, it said “Turkey Capitol of the World.” My gosh! If I had known we were going to such an important place, I would have dressed up a little instead of wearing jeans and cowboy boots.

We ate breakfast and visited with the family and then slept a few hours. I then walked to the downtown area and found a store that was open. I remember it as a general store, but it had a pool table in the back. I drank a Coke and shot a game of pool with myself. The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting with the family. We spent the night and returned home the next day. It was a great experience for me, and I was especially glad to learn where turkeys come from.

Dave Thomas

12/5/2024

Something Serious

Pat had put out food for the crows and had talked to them for a while. She went back in the house and was watching TV. Suddenly, she heard a commotion outside. She looked out the window and saw that there was a fight. One crow was flat on its back while another was beating it with its wings and pecking it with its beak. The bird on the ground was squawking non-stop and trying to get up. Meanwhile, the rest of the crows continued to eat except for the crows that were watching the fight. After a bit, the two onlookers walked over and crowded the attacker out of the way. The crow on the ground got to his feet and made a couple of hops and took off. The attacker took off, too, and flew in the opposite direction. We had no idea what this was about.

Dave Thomas

11/22/2024