All Hallows' Eve

The Beginning of Autumn’s Celebrations

There is something about autumn that simply fills me with joy.  Maybe it is that October 31st holds tenderness in my heart with the mystery, spookiness, and fun of All Hallows Eve.  Children’s excitement is contagious.  I have in my mind’s eye a memory of trying to keep up with my then 10-year-old son as he ran from house-to-house trick or treating.  He was taking shortcuts through the yards, when he hit a fence that was hidden in a hedge which he could not see as it was getting dark and he flipped in the air, landed on his feet and kept going.  My other three children gasped in awe, and laughter erupted.  I was very glad there was no injury to have to tend to.  Instead, we kept going, their orange buckets filling with all sorts of sugary goodness.  When we’d get home the candy would be spread out in front of each of my four children, and they would begin their negotiations.  This was serious business.  How much of this candy in my pile was worth that candy in your pile?  

A Surprise that came out of the Woods

Here are a couple of people who know how to celebrate this season.  We were at Juanita Bay where there are several wooden boardwalks constructed over the swampy area to get to the open Lake Washington where many species of waterfowl stop on their migration south or the birds make that part of the lake their home for the winter.  I was learning to identify so many of those birds:  Mallard, Gadwall, American Wigeon, Blue Winged Teal, Ring Necked Duck, Common Goldeneye, Bufflehead, Redhead were all within sight.  The Mergansers would be out far along with Cormorant, Grebe and Coot.  Along the edge of the water is often a Great Blue Heron and if I’m lucky, I’ll spot a Green Heron, too.  We were making our way along one of those boardwalks when we first ran into these two men: not kids but men of their 20’s or 30’s. The pumpkin head was a scraped-out pumpkin and probably not the easiest thing to wear; I’d expect the smell would have made me take it off.  But these two were out having a nice time enjoying their holiday dressed as they were in Halloween attire.  As we walked back to the car, they were sitting on the bench, so I took some liberty to take a photographic memory.  

Then, You’re Not a Fairy 

Years ago, on Halloween, when I answered the door, there stood a 5-year-old fairy.  She was bedecked all in pinks and shiny silver.  She was adorable.  I lived with a 90-pound black Labrador Retriever, Bridget by name, those days, and she was banging against my legs because she loved children and wanted so much to meet that fairy and share some of her boundless love.  So, I asked the fairy’s mom, who was standing down on the sidewalk, if I could let my puppy out to meet the fairy.  Yes, I could and so out bound Bridget who wiggled and licked the fairy with gusto.  The fairy laughed and said, “She’s not a puppy!” to which I replied, “Then, you’re not a fairy!”  For a moment the fairy froze but she soon decided Bridget was indeed a puppy, gave Bridget one more kiss before she went to the neighbors for more Halloween treats.  

And, then there was Goodboy 

For some reason I do not quite understand about myself, for me, crows are synonymous with All Hallow’s Eve and this season.  We moved into Goodboy’s territory four years ago.  We’ve 150-foot-tall Douglas Fir trees that surround our property and he and his family live in those trees most of the year.  I spend a lot of time sitting on the porch basking in the sunshine, often meditating, and often watch the birds.  Goodboy spent a lot of time sitting in those trees watching and crowing towards me.  Soon, I was throwing peanuts in the shell onto the ground for him and his family.  We graduated to me looking for things to put the peanuts into that he had to solve.  I loved to watch as he approached the new object.  He’d crouch those springy legs of his and would quickly touch it and spring back, ready to fly away.  He’d end up a foot off the ground and would land again and continue his careful investigation.  Once he decided the treat giver was safe, he’d go about figuring out how to get to peanuts.  Then, he’d allow his mate to come down to the ground and see for herself what his excitement was all about. 

I grew to love this bird, never attempting to domesticate him.  One sad day, his body was lying on the next-door neighbor’s lawn, and his family were loudly lamenting his death with a type of cry I’ve not heard from them before or since.  The sounds of their sorrow made me cry, too.

The next spring, his grandson was born.

    

This little guy was a blast to watch when he was fledging.  Instead of landing with grace, he would slide across the neighbor’s roof or crash into the trees.  Was that normal? I wondered.  Soon enough, he has grown into adulthood and today I do not see him having as much trouble with his landing gear.  These birds continue to live where I do but none have introduced themselves to me as Goodboy did.  I don't regret this, he was so unique in my experience.  I continue to throw out peanuts in the shell when I hear his family in among the trees.  All Hallows' Eve is here and we are going to a Crow Festival in Bothell today.  I want to see how artists are creating this wonderful bird in their art.  Should be fun!

With a Grateful Heart,

Claudia E. Heyer