Everything's at it

Whoever wrote the doggerel “Spring has sprung, the grass has ris, I wonder where the birdies is” went through life with his eyes wide shut.

It is spring. Birdies are everywhere. If they have not multiplied, they are in the throes of doing so.

Of course, rabbits are at it - they’re peak performers in the business of reproduction - while hares, which usually live solitary lives, are also busy making families. We’ve encountered many in pairs and small groups which guilty scatter as if mortified to have been caught together, let alone inflagrante delicto.

Turkeys appear to have done the business a while back, and now hens with clutches of chicks abound.The farmer’s mother says turkeys are useless mothers which is surely good; if their nurturing skills were excellent they would number in their millions rather than thousands.

There’s plenty of evidence of their poor parenting skills. When the farmer and I stepped outside to meet some visitors, a reporter and photographer from Country99 TV, we found them by their vehicle pondering a teeny turkey chick at their feet.

“Ohh, how cute,” said the reporter, “but I wonder how it got here.”

The cameraman, meanwhile, wanted to foster the bird and, we while pondering the chick’s mysterious appearance, we supported his dream, never mind that he lives in Auckland.

I even produced evidence of the logic of raising a turkey in the city having long ago raised half a dozen ducklings. After starring in an advertisement, they enjoyed regular swims in my bath and lived in a cosy box under a warming light, before moving to a friend’s lifestyle block.

Eventually, we concluded the chick had tumbled from our house paddock, off the retaining wall and into our parking area.

As if to back-up our theory, a turkey hen with a chick mooched into view in the house paddock. We returned the lost sibling, having got the okay from the cameraman. He looked relieved.

Two hours later, after waved our guests goodbye, the farmer spotted another turkey chick in our garden. Now we concluded the hen had camped here overnight, before being frightened away by a vehicle. Again we tracked down the hen and returned her youngster.

Then I came upon a turkey sitting atop day-old chicks - on the road. I scared her from this ridiculous spot and into a paddock.

And finally I picked up a nest on the roadside, presuming that it had been blown from a tree by the brutal winds we’re enduring. Its outer shell was composed of pale green moss, while the interior was cosily insulated with sheep’s wool.The bird that built this exquisite nest was far from foolish. Like many homeowners who this year have fallen victim to the vicious whims of Mother Nature, this bird was merely unlucky.