That Damned Killdee

I go walking every two or three days with Penny the dog. Usually we go to a park right behind the post office. There are several soccer fields there, and the trails that circle the park connect with open space, which you can follow for several miles in two different directions. Across from the park there’s a small pool of water surrounded by tall reeds, and I usually see a red winged black bird there, guarding his nest, I suppose.

The last couple of times I’ve walked past the pond I noticed another bird. He doesn’t fly away, but rather performs that really fast walk that birds can do, leading me away from the pond. I suppose he and his spouse have a nest in there too. He’s a rather plain bird except for having three black rings around his neck and head. I assume it’s a he because the female  of the pair should be sitting on the nest, shouldn't she? 

Anyway he has a high pitched monosyllabic chirp which he repeats over and over as he skillfully leads me away from the pond.

Thinking that I might be able to identify him because of the prominent rings around his neck, I started thumbing through my Birds of North America, and my Birds of Texas books, and, low and behold, found him in both. He’s a killdeer, apparently fairly common around here. Sarah told me she had seen one at our bird feeder. They nest on the ground, and have a repetitive chirping call, just like my fast walking little friend at the park. Apparently they do a convincing broken wing imitation too.

The name killdeer rings a bell in my memory because  of a story my mother, Wenonah, told me about my grandfather, William Hyram Paul. She said that her older brother Willie once had a girl friend that “Pappa” didn’t like. He thought she was vain and shallow, and in addition to that, she talked constantly in a high pitched chirpy voice that reminded him of – you guessed it – a killdeer bird. Wenonah said that after the girl had been over to visit Willie, Pappa used to say, “I’ll be glad when you stop seeing that damned killdee.”

Song of Hiawatha, Hiawatha's Wooing, part 2.

This is my final reading from Longfellow's poem, The Song of Hiawatha, a book length poem about the legendary figure, Hiawatha, or Manabozho, as he was sometimes called, who was sent by the Great Spirit to rid the world of evil, and to teach his people to live together. I've been familiar with the poem my whole life since my mother was named after Hiawatha's mother, Wenonah, who lived "by the shores of Gitche Gumee, by the shining Big-Sea-Water."

Longfellow conceived the project after a visit with an Ojibwa chief, Kah-ge-ga-gah'bowh. Most of the stories he puts to verse are taken from actual Indian folklore, as recorded by Henry Schoolcraft, who spent several years among the Algonquin tribes, learning to speak Ojibwa, and marrying a half Ojibwa woman, Jane Johnson, the first Native American writer. Schoolcraft had little respect for the Ojibwas, in spite of his experiences with them, and the legends he recorded are largely devoid of emotion or purpose.

Longfellow recognized that shortcoming, however, and molded the legends together into a beautiful saga, full of excitement, adventure, suspense, and compassion.

I hope the selections I have chosen will peak your interest and you will read the entire poem for yourselves. The experience is an adventure worth having, giving insight into Native American culture.

To listen to my selections in order, see my Hiawatha playlist.

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Hiawatha's Wooing, Part 1