A friend related a story of an interesting encounter she had with nature recently.

She and her husband put up a number of tiny birdhouses in their yard in order to entice House Wrens to take up residence.

Looking out her window one day, my friend noticed a House Sparrow fluttering in front of one of the houses. She didn’t think much about it at the time.

Later, she happened to notice that the bird was still fluttering about at the wren house. This seemed odd. She decided to investigate the sparrow’s actions.

She quickly discovered that the sparrow, in an attempt to get inside the wren house, had gotten its head stuck in the entrance hole and was unable to free itself.

Now some folks would not be very concerned about the plight of a House Sparrow.

Many people consider them an avian gang member of the worst kind.

Most folks would probably clear the entrance hole by dispatching the intruding sparrow in a humane way, but not my friend.

Her heart is much too warm for such actions.

Her heart is big enough to have room for even the lowly sparrow.

She tried to wriggle the brown bird out of the confining hole, but the wooden house refused to loosen its headlock.

She thought fast and retreated to her kitchen.

She came back out with a can of Crisco.

She greased up the head feathers of the struggling sparrow.

After a bit of feather dressing was applied, the sparrow’s head popped free.

She released the sparrow in her yard.

The last she saw of it, the bird was busy preening and trying to de-grease itself.

I am sure it was attempting to figure out what in the world had just happened to it.

This story reminded me of a day at my house, the Batt Cave, some years ago.

I came home in the evening after playing in a softball game.

Our faithful canine companion &045; Gus, at that time &045; was on the deck, staring into the house through the patio door.

I thought it a little strange, but then he was an extremely strange dog.

I figured he just wanted into the house.

I walked into our abode.

I stopped in the kitchen to find myself some cranberry juice to quench my thirst.

After pouring a glass of the stuff, I walked into the living room to see what had gone on during my absence.

I could not help but notice something more than a little out of the ordinary on the floor of that room.

There was a long line of peanuts, running single-file from the patio door (the very same one that Gus was looking into) to the sofa.

This is where I encountered my wife, The Queen B.

She had a sheepish look on her face.

I looked down at the peanuts again and she began to explain their presence.

It seems that she had opened the door to let Gus out onto the deck for one of his 272 daily forays there.

As he exited the house, he surprised a chipmunk that was lounging on the deck.

The chippy let out a frightened “Cheep!” and with a tail with all its hairs standing on end, the tiny rodent bolted to what it thought was safety. In other words, it ran the opposite way that Gus was moving.

The chipmunk ran inside the house through the still-open patio door.

This action did not go unnoticed by Gus.

He turned quickly and lunged for the chipmunk. The Queen B. worried about the safety of the friendly chipmunk, slammed the glass door shut just in time to allow Gus to smash his face against it.

The chipmunk, intent on survival made a beeline for the sofa and refused to come out from under it despite my wife’s threats and pleadings.

So The Queen B concocted a plan to lure the chipmunk out from under the couch by tempting it with a line of 239 peanuts.

She thought that this would be a bonanza for a peanut-deprived chipmunk and would be an offer it could not refuse. This was where I came in.

Her plan failed.

Gus was moved to the porch.

The patio door was opened wide. The sofa was moved and the poor chipmunk was chased around and around the house by my wife and me until it bolted out the door for freedom.

I worry that the next time this happens &045; and it will &045; that my lovely bride will dispense with the peanut routine and will try putting Crisco on the chipmunk’s head in order to get him out.

It is just a matter of time.

Etcetera

Autumn Peterson of Freeborn saw a Trumpeter Swan, Wally Swanson of Waterville reports seeing an American Avocet near Elysian, Merrill Frydendall of Mankato spotted White-faced Ibises at Mott Lake, Millie Westland of Hayward saw a Rose-breasted Grosbeak and a Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Rick Jorgensen of Albert Lea saw an Osprey, White Pelicans and Eastern Towhees, Glenn Ruble of Albert Lea had a Bald Eagle and Turkey Vultures in his farmyard, Buzz Knudsen of Albert Lea saw Brown Creepers, White-throated Sparrows, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks and Double-crested Cormorants, Al Sack of New Richland saw House Wrens, Tom and Dot Kiner of Janesville spotted Red-necked Grebes and an American Bittern, George Flattum of Albert Lea tells me of the joy he receives from the beautiful song of the House Finch, Rod and Ruth Searle of Waseca saw White-crowned Sparrows and Yellow-rumped Warblers, Kenny VanRiper of Albert Lea also saw some Yellow-rumped Warblers, Mark Sorenson of Hollandale reports seeing an Osprey, Dick and Marlys Webber of Albert Lea saw some Rose-breasted Grosbeaks and Rusty Hargrave of Albert Lea spotted a Rose-breasted Grosbeak.

Millie Westland advises that she read of a way to kill buckthorn.

Cut off the buckthorn and then put a can over the stump. Then tamp down the can.

Please join me on a wonderful adventure to Alaska.

Prepare to be stunned. You will return with incredible memories and a desire to go back.

For more information on the eight-day trip that I will be leading, call 4 Seasons at 373-4705 or 800-328-4298.

My sincere thanks to all those who attended the Southcentral UniServ Annual Leadership Appreciation Dinner, the members of Waseca Rotary Club, all those at the Northland Recreation Lab at Camp Onomia, the students in grades K-3 and staff at Alden Schools, the listeners of KMSU Radio and KATE Radio, the viewers of KSMQ TV and all those who took my Community Ed Class at United South Central for being such wonderful audiences for my stories.

Thanks to all who kept me company during the Salt Lake Weekend.

“Life is one long process of getting tired.” &045; Samuel Butler

“All the gold in the world has no significance.

That which is lasting are the thoughtful acts which we do for our fellow men.”-Adolfo Prieto

DO GOOD.

Allen Batt of Hartland is a member of the Albert Lea Audubon Society. His e-mail address is SnoEowl@aol.com.