THE CROWS AT BUCCAN
Recent news about crows menacing humans reminded me of my school days when Marty, Joan and I would walk barefoot the five kilometres from our home on Buccan Hill to the Logan Village School.
The first hundred or so metres down the long hill were safe enough, but then we must pass the big gum tree that stood near the entrance to the cow paddock of rich pasture on the Logan River. In this tree nested the crows!
I suppose it was only at nesting time that the crows would attack us, but we were always wary, looking upwards as we approached, and getting ready to run! I think the birds sensed that we were afraid and would remain quiet as we sauntered nearer, pretending we were fearless. Just when we thought we were safely past the danger spot, the crows would swoop, screeching their war-cry! Our little legs sprang into action, running as fast as we could as the birds swooped over our heads, again and again, terrifying us as we raced breathlessly towards the creek where we knew low hanging willows would give us some shelter. The crows did their job well; their nest was safe.
Then it was on to school, past the meat-ant nests that pitted the old gravel road. It seemed that these big red ants were out to get us too…but that’s another story.
The first hundred or so metres down the long hill were safe enough, but then we must pass the big gum tree that stood near the entrance to the cow paddock of rich pasture on the Logan River. In this tree nested the crows!
I suppose it was only at nesting time that the crows would attack us, but we were always wary, looking upwards as we approached, and getting ready to run! I think the birds sensed that we were afraid and would remain quiet as we sauntered nearer, pretending we were fearless. Just when we thought we were safely past the danger spot, the crows would swoop, screeching their war-cry! Our little legs sprang into action, running as fast as we could as the birds swooped over our heads, again and again, terrifying us as we raced breathlessly towards the creek where we knew low hanging willows would give us some shelter. The crows did their job well; their nest was safe.
Then it was on to school, past the meat-ant nests that pitted the old gravel road. It seemed that these big red ants were out to get us too…but that’s another story.
THE SILVER THIMBLE
We were leaving the district. Leaving the farm that had been home to four generations of my father’s family. The Great Depression still raged and times were tough for a small dairy farmer of 1937. They would try their luck in the city. A share farmer was arranged, a...
THE MEAT ANTS ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL
We walked barefoot to school at Logan Village. The gravel road near the Quinzy Creek bridge was sometimes covered in large meat-ant’s nests. These big red ants packed a powerful sting of which we were most aware. Joan and I skirted round the nests, but one day, Marty...