Guest post by Malou L. Sayson
Note: This is the second part of the two-part travel memoir written by The Gypsygals first ever guest poster – Maryland-based Filipina writer Malou Sayson. You can read the first part here.
HerStory is a new section in The Gypsygals, a space for my fellow female travelers to write about their solo journeys. HerStory is a celebration of the travel narrative and of the inspiring and empowering stories of female travelers who craft their own journeys.
Want to contribute to HerStory? Send me an e-mail at primeandnina[at]ymail[dot]com and give me a one graf synopsis of your proposed guest post, a short bio of yourself and your website. Sorry guys, but I will only accept contributions from female travelers.
Lovely organic eggs harvested in Malou’s farm in Maryland (photo by Malou Sayson)
One, two, three birds, were busy kicking the leaves I tucked in among the plants that have gone dormant in my raised bed. A pure fun, I’d say, thrashing the leaves around, until a company of rowdy cinnamon breasted robins scared them away. One scurried under my car, not scared but simply having fun kicking off tiny pebbles.
More robins were busy filling up their tummies with sand and gravel in the driveway, sifting through the granulated white particles and dirt. For sure there is a buffet of insects, worms, tiny acorns, decaying roots and barks and emerald moss for my avian visitors. I realize everything has a role to play, turning even non-congruent elements such as shallow containers with water into a drinking spot for my friends, as if it’s an integral part of the whole visit. What a sight to see birds taking their turns to take a drink.
All of a sudden, I caught some flashes of red, bright red! Was there a red-banded rainbow? How could that be, the sun had taken a rest behind those darkening clouds in the southern sky. Welcome cardinals! You sure set my place afire! For the first time I saw about seven or even more in one place at one time, mixing with the swallows and robins. They were not flighty this time, just seriously feeding on the driveway.
Well, it’s not only the chickens and turkeys that need pebbles and shells, and dirt granules as part of their diet. The dirt is like salt on our dinner table. In the midst of this very entertaining chaos is a raucous coming from the chicken palace Dave built a few years back. Plymouth Rocks, red and barred, small bantams, silver and gold, call them natives, which make superb chicken stew! They seemed to join the orchestra of woodland songs and tunes.
They are birds too, dinosaur in manners yet domesticated. Too bad Jimmy, one of our original roosters, died of fatal jealousy from Leonides, the barbarian who gloats over his glossy coat. He couldn’t take that Jimmy had an entourage of mates while he had only one.
Leonides – the Alpha rooster in Maryland’s farm (photo by Dave Thoth)
One day, when Jimmy who was just recovering from melancholy and loss of feathers, Leonides saw an opening in the cage and barged into his rival’s territory. When I left Jimmy that morning, he was perky. In fact, he was stretching his wings to soak up the early morning sun. And I was glad, only to find him is state of rigor mortis later in the day.
Leonides, the supreme leader, is soon to be challenged by Jimmy’s offspring. Wait for the next episode. Despite his nonchalant character, Leonides crows like “Sarimanok” the most beautiful mythical bird described to me by my grandfather when I was a kid. Leonides doesn’t make a jolting call, but somewhat melodious, music to my ears even during the darkest hour when light pushes the night back to usher in a new day.
Roosters calling, hens cackling, blending with the chirping of birds and loud hammering of woodpeckers up in the old decaying trees not from a distance. Yes, woodpeckers, big and small, hurrying up to build holes, deep for hibernation I guess. Hopefully the trees won’t fall on the roof of our house, after many pokings and peckings and hammerings. You’ll be amazed at how huge the caves they’ve built in the trees with their powerful beaks!
So much for my reverie, winds had started to pick up. My avian visitors were getting antsy. In one moment, they were off the ground, into the brush and shrubs, then into the branches. Some were hesitant to leave, hiding in the topmost parts of trees and then without any warning flew away in mass towards northeast.
Swell! My heart swelled with joy, a gift sent to me from Above to cure my woes and trepidations these days when life offers a lot of uncertainties. Well that’s what life is all about. Nothing’s sure. Nothing’s permanent. Just like the visit of my flighty friends. Yeah, we are rooted on land but we fly just like them in our dreams, in our hopes, in our spirits.
About Malou Sayson:
Malou L. Sayson has worked as a writer/journalist for over a decade, after spending some years teaching English and Literature in two universities and engaging in advertising, marketing and promotions in the Philippines. She was a founding reporter/editor of the Palau Horizon in Micronesia and wrote for a local newspaper in Ocean City, Maryland. Malou resides in the Eastern Shore and works as a freelance writer in a magazine.
