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As a child, it was one of my greatest delights to visit my grandparents in the spring when the whip-poor-wills began to call. Grandma and Grandpa lived in a remote valley of the Ozark Mountains where there were trees a plenty, and, seemingly, a whip-poor-will, or two, in each one.
My grandmother insisted that a whip-poor-will's call was not "whip-poor-will," but instead, "chip-butter-white-oak." I would listen really hard trying to hear it exactly as she said it was, but all I could hear was "whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,..." But, I never let on to her.
I remember my grandpa watching and listening, with an amused look on his face, to one of these listening sessions. Shortly after that he began to call me, just for fun, "Chip Butter." It is a name I am proud to wear for I still love to hear that long, lonesome call on a warm summer's eve. And, sometimes, when I listen really, really hard, it seems I can hear quite clearly, "chip-butter-white-oak, chip-butter-white-oak..."


Thursday, March 14, 2013

Last Spring's Nest...





hangs on a vine near my walking trail.  It looks as good as new to me.  I would like to bring it home, but the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 makes it illegal to collect or have in your possession live native birds, bird feathers, nests or eggs.  I haven't always known about that law!

4 comments:

  1. Oh that is such a pretty picture! I didn't know the law included all that!

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  2. I didn't know about that law and I wonder how many people do? Looking at the nest hanging there it doesn't look like it's too secure. Lovely photo though.

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  3. Didn't know about the law. The nest looks tiny, is it a hummingbird nest? Very lovely photo.

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  4. Oh, I love this
    need to walk in my woods
    to see what I can fine.
    With the weather and continued health issues
    staying inside a lot.
    Your image makes me want to go to the woods.
    It is raining at the moment :)

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