It’s Time for the Happy Birthday Song

Take a moment to count the number of times you have heard or sung
The Happy Birthday Song.  My count was way above four hundred and fifty.
The ditty is perfect; it has a simple verse, the tune is basic and the length is
short.  With one word, the song can be personalized for an individual or group.
Small children, old folks and those in between are able to whisper or belt out
the familiar birthday ‘chestnut’. 

Although it is disputed, two sisters, Mildred and Patty Hill are credited with
writing the music and words for The Birthday Song in 1893.  Since then it has
been translated into over twenty five languages.


Our society has a few benchmark birthdays that sometimes seem aimed more
at the commercial side of the celebration like cards and gifts.  Age markers
change with time, for instance what teenager today has even heard of
Sweet Sixteen? and expectations for Thirty Year Old's have changed and hey,
nowadays, some say that Seventy is the new Sixty!?!

Google images…..





When we are very young, we crave to be older; little kids proudly announce that
they are four or six years old.  My cousins, brother and I loved the Barbra
Streisand Song “I’m Five” with lyrics: ‘Waddaya think I’m three?  Not Me!
Waddaya think I’m four?  No More!  I’m even more than four and a half, I”m FIVE!’ 
The Birthday Song is the best when you are a young child.  It becomes an
embarrassment for tender teens and later, a celebration song of life
achievements.  At a certain age, some folks do not relish hearing the tune any
more at their annual cake-cutting.


Google image

Birthday cake that Dani made for Dot’s 70th.

I remember being a tad traumatized when I turned 62.  I was thinking back to
a time when my parents were in their sixties and they seemed “so old”.  Ha Ha!
In a couple of weeks I will attempt to blow out sixty five candles.  I really feel no
different now than when I stepped with trepidation into my sixty second year. 


   Dani and I in Australia three years ago.

The major difference in aging, is the recovery time after any injury, it really takes
much longer to ‘bounce back’.  My twisted ankle was over eight weeks returning
to normal.  A lower bask injury took me out of commission for six weeks.  I recently
fell up the stairs and landed on my knee on cement.  I wore bruise that resembled
the map of Africa like tattoo and now after five weeks, the contusion remains puffy
and sore.  That is a typical healing time for a a knee and I am just thankful that I have
no kneeling activities planned such as praying in church or making a proposal to
someone?



I now have Osteo Arthritis in my shoulders and wrists but who doesn’t havea few issues with an aging body?  I am so thankful to be able to do most things.



I dodged Lyme Disease in the spring after finding three ticks embedded in my flesh.
Luckily, I was able to have the appropriate medication administered at the local
hospital.  A tense week followed as I waited for the bullseye rash to appear and
was very lucky that it did not.  So many friends and relatives suffer from conditions
and diseases that are far more invasive, painful and invisible.  They interfere
with life every day.  Many have lost special people in their lives.  You know who
you are and I continue to send my empathy and compassion.



The bright side in waiting for The Birthday Song in my sixties is retirement and the
time it provides to do my favourite activities, to be a grandparent, and to slow
down to observe and reminisce about life.

Elusive For Over Fifty-five Years!

 Google Photo

Mom and Dad were both bird lovers and brother Mark and I were schooled from a young
age to recognize and appreciate various species.  We had bird feeders in the garden, 
identified songs, silhouettes, beak shapes, tail colours and plumage while hiking, driving
in the country, at cottages or on vacation.  The binoculars were always packed before
the suntan lotion.  My Dad’s Roger Tory Peterson “A Field Guide to The Birds” was well
thumbed and Dad recorded dates and places of all sightings.  It was signed by Peterson
and wore a handmade leather cover that Dad had designed and constructed himself.





With a long list of songbirds, waterfowl, aerialists and birds of prey, the Tindale family
had quite a satisfactory collection of sightings, photos, sketches, notations and tales
of numerous “feathered friends”.



The one incredible bird that we always searched for was the “SNOWY OWL”.
We knew that it was one of the largest of the owl species and survived in
the Canadian Arctic dining on Lemmings.  We saw various owls but
never a Snowy.



One morning when Mom was busy making our lunch-sandwiches and Mark and I readied
ourselves for school, Dad yelled from the living room to come quickly.  Speedily, we filed
in kneeling in a row on the couch, looking out at the front yard where Dad pointed.  Look,
he said excitedly, “there is a Snowy Owl in the London Plane Tree!  The three of us strained
to see it and with the tree being bare of leaves, it should have been easy.  After what
seemed like twenty minutes to a twelve year old, but was likely only three;
Dad said “APRIL FOOLS!”



Well, as Dad laughed at, what he thought was one of his best April Fools jokes to date,
we all fumed and scolded him, asking how he could be so mean!?

Searching for “Snowies” carried on into adulthood with the hope and chance to see one
in the wild, as we had seen them at Rescue Centres and Aviaries.  As with most things
in life, great moments happen when you least expect them.  In early April this year,
I was heading back from grocery shopping on my usual route down a paved sideroad
that passed many fields and farms near Bayfield Ontario.  My peripheral vision registered
a hawk sitting on a hydro post but I realized its head was too large for a hawk.  Wow, it
was an owl siting; rare but exciting.  I eased the car into reverse and slowly backed up until
I was parallel with the post and the bird atop it.  Brief seconds later, I heard myself
screaming aloud….."It’s  Snowy Owl, Wow!  It is an actual Snowy Owl!”  The Owl sat still,
looking about, at the sky, the fields and directly at me.  I drove ahead a safe distance
and got out of the car and with my I-phone, approached the pole.  The owl and I had at
least a six minute encounter until he flew off and landed on a fence post. I watched his
silhouette as he gracefully glided across the sky, choosing his next hunting spot. 
I cruised by slowly in the car and enjoyed another visit with him before heading home.
I loudly pronounced: “Dad! I saw a Snowy Owl!  I knew he could not hear me but I spoke
the words as if he could.
I was so excited and almost breathless to tell Chris about my experience.  I floated around
the house for about a week, basking in my “Snowy Owl High”.

.
My first sighting.

Closer but lousy photos with old I-phone.

Off he goes.

A week later, I saw my second Snowy Owl on a hydro post on the same road
as I had spotted my first and a then a third one a bit further down the road!  


Seeing #2 and #3 was a beautiful moment.

Google Image

Google Image

Google Image of a group of Snowy Owls.

A few days later, my friend and two different neighbours related stories
of seeing Snowy Owls on telephone poles, in a ditch and in a farmer’s field.
Wow!  With some research, I learned about “Irruptions” ‘an irregular migration
of a large number of birds to an area where they are not usually seen.’ 
There was one in Ontario in 2013.  Two factors are at play: Climate Change and
the continuous life cycle of The Lemming, the primary diet of Snowy Owls.
Lemming populations will spike one year and then crash unexpectedly so that
“Snowies” must look elsewhere for food.  Because they are accustomed to
The Tundra, they migrate towards flat fields and airports to find mice and rabbits.
They can be very hazardous at airports which use a variety of methods to
safeguard the owls and the planes.  Being unfamiliar with vehicles and people,
they appear tame and pose for photos for bird enthusiasts with nary a care. 


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCjveZRpUdI

Hope this blog made you a little wiser!

“Waiting for the Light” Robert Bateman

What do you call an owl with a sore throat? 
A bird that doesn’t give a hoot!

“Ghost of the North” Robert Bateman

Knock knock…
Whose there?
Owl
Owl who?
Owl be seeing you later!


“ Afternoon Glow” Robert Bateman