Channeling Aunt Gertrude

                                                                    

A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.
          ~Chinese Proverb

     Today, while driving home from a grocery shopping excursion, I channeled my Great Aunt Gertrude. Or Lanny did-- and he never knew her!

     My Great Aunt Gertrude Webster was a high school English teacher who lived her entire life in Erie County, New York (aka, Buffalo). She was the "character" of our family-- a woman who never married or had her own family, did as she pleased and didn't care two pins what others thought of her. She dressed to suit her mood and the activities she had planned, and if that made her look ridiculous, well, too bad. There are many, many Aunt Gertrude stories-- of her escapades as a teacher, of her travels (once, at age 75+, she drove in a pick up truck camper with her slightly younger sister Louise from Buffalo to Alaska, camping all the way...to visit Louise's son, Gert's nephew, who lived up there...two old ladies in a pick up all the way to Alaska!) and especially of her adventures as a bird watcher.

     Aunt Gertrude loved birds. She joined the Audubon Society at an early age and was active in it her entire life. She led birding expeditions and spoke to other groups about the joys of birds. She taught me, her great niece, about birding by making it seem exotic and incredibly fun. As a result, while I am not an Audubon member or belong to any group, I have always paid attention to birds, kept a well-worn copy of Roger Tory Peterson's A Field Guide to the Birds closeby, and had bird feeders in my yard.

     My husband, Lanny, has learned and become interested himself in birds as a result of my love for them. We keep our birdfeeders stocked all year long right outside our dinette window, and he is more likely than I am to fill them up as they get empty. He enjoys keeping the binoculars closeby and the bird book in hand on warm evenings spent on our back deck. He gets as excited as I do when a pileated woodpecker shows up or we spot a yellow throated warbler for the first time.

     So, today, as we neared our home returning with the car packed with groceries, Lanny pointed out his window and yelled, "What was that? I think it was an orange and black bird!"  "Holy smokes, Lanny... that must have been a Baltimore Oriole! I've never seen one! TURN AROUND!"  So, melting frozen food and all, we turned around and went back to the spot along the road where he saw the bird. He pulled over. We put the windows down. We waited. Suddenly, a rustle in the trees... then another, and then another... and then... YES! A bright orange and black bird appeared. Total black head, which differentiates it from a Bullock Oriole... this one was a beautiful male Baltimore Oriole.

     Then, just as suddenly, it was gone. We turned around and headed for home, with one more bird for our "life list." I found myself grinning and thinking how proud Aunt Gert would be of me... and I was thankful for her example shown all those years ago of the joys of bird watching!

This is my Great Aunt Gertrude, age 90 something, with my two boys. It is a favorite photo of her, because I can hear her laughing still. My boys weren't quite sure what to make of her...