Is there a funny tale from your childhood that you would like to share? I'll start. We moved to the 150 acre farm in 1950 when I was halfway through the 1st grade. I have 2 older brothers. One is 5 years older than me and the oldest is 7 years older. My brother Bob, the oldest, had found a baby pidgeon that had fallen from it's nest in the hay mow. The nest was clear up at the peak of the roof, so there was no way to return him to it. So being the resourceful kids that we were, we decided to raise it ourselves. We made a thin gruel for it from whole unpastureized milk, bread scraps, other wheat products. We fed him using an eyedropper. Soon he was losing his pin feathers and sprouting regular feathers. Halfway through the summer of 1950, he learned to fly. By then he had graduated to cracked corn and what seeds he could find. He was free to go where he wanted in the day time, but at night he would return to his cage at the barn. I am sure we named him, but that was 60 years ago and I can't remember his name for the life of me. He also had a favorite landing place. The clothes line. Every Saturday was wash day and Mom would start at daylight thirty doing the washing and hanging it out. Once everyone was up, the sheets would get stipped off the beds and would be washed. The bird wouldn't land on the clothes line until the sheets were on it. Then here he would come like a 4th of July rocket and hit the clothes line and land on that sheet. Do you know what happens when a bird lands? He poops! It's a natural reaction, it can't be helped, if he lands, he's gonna poop! Mom comes out with another load to hang up and see's her messed on sheet. She takes after the pidgeon. He knows when it's time to vacate his perch! She would go back in with the soiled sheet and he would wait in a tree. She would come back out with the recleaned sheet and as soon as her back was turned zoom, he was back ! Me and Jim decided to disown the bird about this time and Bob became the sole parent! Mom threatened to have roasted squab for supper if he didn'e get him penned up. After that the bird was in solitary confinement all day on Saturday's. We just wouldn't let him loose in the morning but keep him penned up.
Capt. when I was around 8yrs old we had a pet parakeet that was really tame. During the day it would fly around the house free. It also liked to join us for our meals at the kitchen table. His name was jasper and he would walk around on the table from plate to plate and pick food off of our plates. We kids thought it was great fun. Not sure what the reason was that during one of his table forays my Mom wanted him back in his cage. She tried to get him to sit on her finger to no avail. He was more interested in eating the food in front of him. So she tried to grab him. In doing that he fly up and sat perched on the edge of my chocolate milk glass that was still quit full. She made another grab for Jasper and he ducked, slipped and fell head first into my glass of chocolate milk. We three couldn't believe our eyes. My Mom a quick thinker grabbed him by his tail as that was the only thing visible and flung him into the air. He took off spraying the chocolate milk everywhere and headed back to his cage all on his own. Upon seeing him sitting there trying to clean his feathers we all broke out in My mom then gave Jasper a bath to get all the sticky chocolate milk off him. After that he wasn't so fond of eating off of our plates anymore. Hummmm wonder why
Those are funny Kirk and Tooty. I mentioned in the dog or cat person post that I was partly raised by a German shepherd. The summer that I was two, we rented half a farm house and the owners lived in the other half. They owned Fulda, but Fulda thought that my brother who was one and I were her "babies". No one, not even our parents could raise a hand to us when she was around. She was very protective of us. One day I wandered down the driveway and dirt road and onto the nearby blacktop highway, and Fulda went with me. I remember that she kept between me and traffic. Yes, I do remember it. [Don't ask me what you told me 5 minutes ago though]. The adults all decided that Fulda must see me get a spanking. We went into their living room for my punishment. So, Mr Iredell and my dad put her muzzle on, and a harness. Then they held her with both hands behind the locked French doors of their library while my mother paddled me. I have no memory of that part, it was boring. I do remember their funiture and the downstairs. They had a maroon velvety couch--the kind with horsehair stuffing and very itchy, and a matching chair. Mrs Iredell had crocheted doilies on the backs of them, and a Jenny Lind table by the window with coleus growing in a glass. She had a nice big doily on that table too, and the shade was drawn. Through the doorway, I could see the kitchen, and one of those old time sinks with the high back and deep sink part, and skirts under the sink. The curtains were white and she had more house plants in that window too. It was afternoon, and the sun was shining through the window. Fulda definitely learned HER lesson which was to never ever let babies out of the yard again. I didnt learn a thing except what our landlord's downstairs looked like. Fulda did a good job and never let me and my brother Frank out of the yard again. SHE was duly impressed with the occasion. We never did stay in any yard where my parents lived, not even with 6 ft privacy fences. We just climbed up on the trash cans and over we went to the closest park which had lots of goodies like wading pools, slides, merry go rounds, see-saws, etc. We wandered all over the city, and my brother claims he wandered more than 100 miles many days on his bike.
Speaking of bird stories...I had a yellow parakeet named Lady Bird. My great aunt and uncle gave me the bird when I was in about 4th grade, this was an old bird She liked to ride around the house on my shoulder. One day I had trimmed her claws and not thinking put her up on my shoulder. When I bent over to unload the dishwasher the poor old bird fell off my shoulder and the cat was on her fast! Lady bird took off in flight out of the kitchen and into the living room. Unfortunately we had a strip of fly paper hanging from the ceiling. The poor bird got stuck in the fly paper and I had to peel her off of it! Poor old thing. I still feel bad about that :-?
The summer of 1946 was a time of joy, a time of celebration, world war two was over and the country could now get back to lives interrupted by a world of chaos. Mid size city neighborhoods reverberated with the sounds of recovery, newness permeated everyday life. If you are two and a half, all this was a universe away. Eating, sleeping and playing occupied my days. Mom prepared the meals, I liked most of the food, if I didn't like it I threw it on the floor. At 2 1/2 you can get away with things like that. If I received a treat I was suppose to say "thank you." I tried to remember that because people were nicer when you said thank you. If it was sunny day I could play in the grassy courtyard between the multi family buildings. Mothers would watch the children from the windows, sitting on the outside stairs or in chairs on the lawn. With as many as 15 - 20 children there were many eyes watching, they missed nothing. One day the older girls, the ones that were 4 and 5 years old, recruited some of the younger children for an afternoon tea party. At two and a half it's hard to avoid these social obligations, running away was not an option. I soon found myself seated at a 'table' being served tea. The cups were small and the girl pouring the tea forgot to put water the tea pot. Several other girls were 'baking pies.' They obviously knew nothing about baking pies. At least like the kind mom made, they were making them with dirt and water. Soon we were being served, each customer was to say thank you when served the mud pie. When they served me my mud pie they wanted me to say thank you. For something I couldn't eat!! No way!! I left and went home leaving a fading chorus of little girls still wanting me to say thank you. I went up stairs where mom's pies were much better. Jerry
As a child my parents used to have to say to me 'eat all your pudding and you can have some olives'. I was a weird child!
