On Wednesday afternoon, as I settled down to my income-generating work, the sound of chopping shattered my concentration. Bolting out the back door, I found a man up the enormous Norfolk Island Pine on the property diagonally opposite, secured with a harness, chopping down all the branches in preparation for sawing down the entire tree. His pardner stood on the road, holding the rope. In fairness, the tree, though graceful and beautiful was over 100 feet tall and had cracked the wall of the house. The new owner of the property had indicated, in December, the intention of removing the tree, but nothing had happened to-date. At this particular point in time, the tree supported several active birds nests including a Yellow Oriole whos fore-bearers had nested in the same spot for the last 20 years. Just the night before, as I passed the tree, I could distinguish the calls of two chicks from the nest. Clapping my hands loudly, I yelled to the man to stop. It had the desired effect! I urgently explained that there were live birds in the nest past which he was dropping long branches, causing the nest to swing. The men looked at me in silence, first in disbelief and then in consternation...she reeel mad, boy. I continued to plead, Just take down the branch with the nest and lower it to me. Laady, we ha ah Contrec, an de tree mus com dong! All you have to do is cut that branch for me! They ignored me and went back to work. I remained on the street until they left, after 6 p.m. just watching in case the nest should be ripped down. The mother meanwhile, moved from power lines to roof tops, to hedges, to trees and back, circling the tree, and making loud calls, while her helpless children hung perilously from the condemned tree. As night closed in, she crawled into the nest still attached to the remaining trunk and everything went quiet. Thursday, the workers failed to show. This morning I had to be at a Presentation and was gone most of the morning. I had spoken to the mason on the job, and asked for his help, should the men return in my absence. Friday afternoon rolled round, and suddenly the peace of the afternoon was rent by the ear-splitting roar of a power saw! The man had to pass that branch in order to reach where he was sawing!!!! ......The first log of the trunk came crashing to the ground, with an alarming thud. I turned away, to hide my frustration at the arrogance. I went back inside my gate, my head down, feeling a kind of despair. There were assorted clicks, cusses, and cranking noises from the site, and I realised the saw had stalled. I stood, back to the work, wondering if there was ANYTHING I could do to persuade them. There was a $100 bill in the WORC donation box, maybe ......... a small noise penetrated my thoughts....then the unmistakable, flute-like call of the Oriole. it came from beside me on the Bougainvillea hedge. In that lull when the saw broke down, the bird had carried her chicks to safety across the road. I was utterly dumbfounded. Much later after the two men had left, and the construction crew were preparing to go home, I took the young mason to see the chicks. He was silent in amazement. I heard them talking about it as they piled into the old car and left.
Posted on: Sun, 25 May 2014 20:50:53 +0000
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