A Tale About Storks – part 2
Recalling myself from the useless wishful staring at the empty spot in the field beside me, I found a news article that told me that one of the pole’s support beams had been rotten. Being close to the cycling path, it had been taken down for safety reasons. Permanently. Typical Dutch overprotectiveness was my rebellious first reaction, getting more grumpy by the minute.
It was getting colder now, the sun hiding behind ever darkening clouds, so I quickly skimmed over the article. Not quite taking it all in, my eye did fall on the mention that around Deurze – as the pretty brook and nearby village are named - one pair of storks had nested in a tree last year. In the village. Good heavens!, I thought excitedly. In a tree!
My imagination immediately conjured up a huge, ancient and majestic tree, with branches as thick as tree trunks holding a massive circular nest somewhere high up above the ground. Knowing full well that there is no such tree in the far-wide vicinity - you’ll be hard put to find one in the whole country – we are after all not in Great Britain, where you stumble across majestic trees without even trying to find them – I still had good hope as there were some decently sized trees just around the corner.
To top it all off, the article also said that there had been a pair nesting on top a farmhouse roof! Whoow, big deal, I hear those of you say, who live in places like Germany or Poland. Plenty of houses here with stork nests on top of roofs and chimneys. I know, but I’d never seen a real stork’s nest on a roof, let alone in a tree, so with rekindled enthusiasm, I eagerly set off in search for both.
Having read that both nests were very close by, I stopped at the end of the cycle track, and looked at the farmhouse directly across the quiet cobbled road. Thatched roof, no nest. Turning left, I slowly cycled past the handful of characteristic old Saxon-style farmsteads. More thatched roofs and bordered by tall oak and linden trees, they are a very pretty sight to behold. Not a stork’s nest in view though. Must be at the other end of the village, I thought, and headed in the opposite direction. Scrutinising every tree and every single roof, I came to a stop at the end of the village. Nothing!
Peering out further along the road, I spotted two truncated trees in front of a modern house. Right next to the road. From a distance they looked rather dead. On top of the second one was a large, deep stork’s nest. Looking old and abandoned. So much for my majestic tree, I grumbled. Still, being on a mission, I parked my bike and looked up with my binoculars. Wonderful invention these things, as my glance went up and brought into sharp vision the garland of spring-green shoots circling the base of the nest. A linden tree by its heart shaped leaves, and far from dead. That put a smile on my face. And just above the rim of the nest, the single white crown of a stork’s head carefully rose into view. That made me smile too. Satisfied for the moment, I turned around to go home. There, at the entrance to the village, in a small meadow beside the road, I saw its mate walking tall in amongst the bright yellow dandelions.
To be continued …
Recalling myself from the useless wishful staring at the empty spot in the field beside me, I found a news article that told me that one of the pole’s support beams had been rotten. Being close to the cycling path, it had been taken down for safety reasons. Permanently. Typical Dutch overprotectiveness was my rebellious first reaction, getting more grumpy by the minute.
It was getting colder now, the sun hiding behind ever darkening clouds, so I quickly skimmed over the article. Not quite taking it all in, my eye did fall on the mention that around Deurze – as the pretty brook and nearby village are named - one pair of storks had nested in a tree last year. In the village. Good heavens!, I thought excitedly. In a tree!
My imagination immediately conjured up a huge, ancient and majestic tree, with branches as thick as tree trunks holding a massive circular nest somewhere high up above the ground. Knowing full well that there is no such tree in the far-wide vicinity - you’ll be hard put to find one in the whole country – we are after all not in Great Britain, where you stumble across majestic trees without even trying to find them – I still had good hope as there were some decently sized trees just around the corner.
To top it all off, the article also said that there had been a pair nesting on top a farmhouse roof! Whoow, big deal, I hear those of you say, who live in places like Germany or Poland. Plenty of houses here with stork nests on top of roofs and chimneys. I know, but I’d never seen a real stork’s nest on a roof, let alone in a tree, so with rekindled enthusiasm, I eagerly set off in search for both.
Having read that both nests were very close by, I stopped at the end of the cycle track, and looked at the farmhouse directly across the quiet cobbled road. Thatched roof, no nest. Turning left, I slowly cycled past the handful of characteristic old Saxon-style farmsteads. More thatched roofs and bordered by tall oak and linden trees, they are a very pretty sight to behold. Not a stork’s nest in view though. Must be at the other end of the village, I thought, and headed in the opposite direction. Scrutinising every tree and every single roof, I came to a stop at the end of the village. Nothing!
Peering out further along the road, I spotted two truncated trees in front of a modern house. Right next to the road. From a distance they looked rather dead. On top of the second one was a large, deep stork’s nest. Looking old and abandoned. So much for my majestic tree, I grumbled. Still, being on a mission, I parked my bike and looked up with my binoculars. Wonderful invention these things, as my glance went up and brought into sharp vision the garland of spring-green shoots circling the base of the nest. A linden tree by its heart shaped leaves, and far from dead. That put a smile on my face. And just above the rim of the nest, the single white crown of a stork’s head carefully rose into view. That made me smile too. Satisfied for the moment, I turned around to go home. There, at the entrance to the village, in a small meadow beside the road, I saw its mate walking tall in amongst the bright yellow dandelions.
To be continued …
