Grackle Medicine

Grackle Going For It – Photo: L. Weikel

I never cease to be amazed by the messages, guidance, and insight I receive from Mother Earth and her many children. Case in point: as I’ve mentioned recently, I’ve been indulging my feathered friends by religiously filling my peanut coil every day – in fact, sometimes twice a day, lately. There are some furred visitors who are also indulging (squirrels, opossums, raccoons), but other than the squirrels, the rest sneak around under cover of darkness! What I totally didn’t expect to learn about, however, was Grackle medicine.

I’ve seen grackles at our feeders every year. They didn’t tend to congregate at our feeders in any great numbers, and I never found them to be so remarkable that I considered them to be messengers of any sort. I can’t say I ever thought much about them other than to be slightly creeped out by their cold, yellow eyes that always seem to stare vacantly.

But this year is different.

Move Over Blue Jays

You may recall that Blue Jay seemed to be vying for my attention several weeks ago, leaving me feathers in many different venues and congregating at my feeders – especially the peanut coil. They seemed to be seeking my attention, so I did my best to follow up and listen to what they had to say to me.

Well, I must report that the blue jays and I are continuing to have a dynamic relationship, and they are quite demonstrative in their displeasure when I fail to refill the peanut coil fast enough. They’re also nudges. And I’m the first to admit – I respond to nudging (usually). Ok, sometimes.

Since around the beginning of April or so, more and more grackles started showing up in our yard. I’ve been watching them cultivate remarkable skills at peanut extraction. And they don’t seem to be bothered by my presence in the least. For the past two weeks or so, as I’ve noticed their numbers increasing, I’ve had the fleeting thought that I should ‘look them up.’ But I admit, as soon as I walked into the house, I’d forget the grackles completely.

Why? Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps the upset of watching a pandemic spread across the world and take hold in our country with a vengeance. The stress of watching a virus that’s highly contagious and can easily be spread by asymptomatic carriers first be ignored by our government, then politicized. And then the horror of witnessing a man’s life callously snuffed out at the knee of a police officer, setting off a cultural upheaval over the systemic racism in our country and the scourge of police brutality. A pandemic within a pandemic. Yeah, I forgot to research Grackle for too many days.

But I digress.

Messengers?

Just yesterday, I again remarked to Karl that I think there’s something up with the grackles. I’d just watched one ever so carefully remove a peanut from the coil, take flight, dodge branches of bushes and trees, veer along our neighbor’s driveway, hang a right over our road and fly all the way past three more houses to an intersection. It would appear we’re feeding a massive population of grackles, including ones that don’t even live adjacent to our home. Clearly the grackle population is making a point to congregate at our house.

When a jillion of anything start to show up in my environment, I pay attention. Eventually. And yes, I’ll admit it – grackles are not a bird I would ordinarily wax poetic over. Did I mention their creepy yellow eyes? And they’re not particularly colorful, either, though I seem to recall them in others years having some striking iridescence on their shoulders. But the ones around here lately have definitely been non-descript. So I’ve been a bird snob. There. I admit it.

But they persisted, I’ll give them that. Not only did they keep showing up, but their numbers started increasing. And they were irritating, truth be told, with their harsh chuck chuck vocalization and, as described in Peterson’s Field Guide, “split rasping note” that, to my ear sounds like a scree!. Just this past week, I wondered aloud to Karl whether Grackle would even be covered in any of my books. Part of me thought they were surely too mundane to have their own entry. (I told you, I’ve been being a jerk of a bird snob. It’s a wonder they even deigned to continue vying for my attention.)

Let my resistance be an object lesson. Never underestimate the power of Mother Earth to simply wow us with her insight and guidance.

More tomorrow.