AtoZ of Animals I Have Met: “’J’ Is for Jaws” #AtoZBloggingChallenge#

 Originally I had intended writing this under the letter ‘S’ is for Squalo (Shark), which is the name of the movie “Jaws” in Italy. I have two stories of unusual encounters with something that fits the name “Jaws”.

Nino was a fisherman and hunter, and one day he went fishing with another friend. Nino knew that I don’t particularly like fish, and especially not freshwater fish, and he usually gave them to his friend. One of the main types of fish they caught was carp, and one day he brought home a live fish that had a very distinctive  coloring: he was a bright orange, and how could anyone eat a goldfish?!

One day as I was feeding him, I noticed the interesting way he went for his food: he would

circle around the bottom of his bowl, stop in dead center and then swim straight up with his mouth wide open and grab as much food as he could. He did this several times until there was nothing left in the bowl. I watched in horrified fascination and decided then and there to name him Squalo, after the shark in “Jaws”.

He actually stayed with us for several years and was a never-ending source of hilarity. Then, we moved to Sicily, and we went by train. Our daughter was only two months old and so we could only take a couple of suitcases with clothing and our daughter. Some of our friends asked if they could have him, because they got that same source of hilarity. It was good to know it wasn’t just me.

The second story is about my up-close, in-my-face encounter with a shark – a real one this time. A group of teenagers and our adult supervisors went down to Loma Linda, near San Miguel in Baja California; we had a sister church there and we often went down to help them with various works.

I loved going down for several reasons, and they were usually happy to see me, too, because I spoke pretty good Spanish and I think I was actually the only one in our group who spoke Spanish. And the only one of our Mexican friends who spoke any English was their Pastor. And so, I acted as official interpreter. It was fun.

And so one time that we went down in the summer, we all took our bathing suits with us, along with sleeping bags because our leaders had decided, since it was summer and the temperatures were fairly mild, we could camp out on the beach at San Miguel on the way home, and since the water was also fairly warm, we went swimming.

I am a more than decent swimmer – I was swimming before I could walk and I was born on a Naval vessel; I considered myself a mermaid (one can dream, no?). The waves were amazing for bodysurfing, and that’s what I was doing. The others tired of it, but I just kept riding the waves. That is, until I heard the others calling me and pointing at something on my left. I turned in time to see a fin speeding toward me: not a dolphin fin, which is common enough, but another, more sinister type of fin.

There were no waves in sight; well, yes, there was, but it was nowhere near enough, So, I put on my superpowered feet and Aquagirl speed, and swam faster than I had ever swum before. I’m pretty sure I could have out swum Mark Spitz and broken all speed records, and Mr. Jaws never had a chance.

I don’t know if he was a local denizen or not, but I decided I was never going to swim in San Miguel Beach ever again.

Copyright © 10 April 10, 2021. Mary E. Purpari. All Rights Reserved  

AtoZ of Animals I have met: “H” is for Hairy and Mercurio #AtoZBloggingChallenge#

 When I decided to name the baby buzzard that Nino brought home for me to mother (have I mentioned that there is a sort of affinity between birds and me?) Hairy, they all thought it was for Harry Potter, because of my obvious liking of the magical boy; I had to tell them that I was thinking of the word “Hairy” because he still had a lot of his down, which hung like strands of hair.

Okay, I have an affinity with birds, as many can tell you, but man! I had never played the part of a mother buzzard before. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I’ve seen a documentary or three on rapacious birds, so I knew that the mother bird ate the food and then shared it with her babies.

And no, there is no way in this world that you can get me to chew up raw meat. That’s why they invented knives: to mince chicken livers so you can feed baby buzzards; that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Also because it’s true. So, I whipped out my handy dandy knife and minced my chicken livers and started my life as a buzzard mom.

Nino wasn’t really certain where Hairy had come from, but since a couple of days later my daughter’s boyfriend brought me another, which he named Mercurio, and which he had found in the same place Nino had found Hairy (the restaurant where Nino was the Chef) we surmised that they had probably both fallen from the same nest.

The common belief that buzzards and vultures look alike is a terrible misconception, although I will admit that I could wholeheartedly believe it at the time, covered from head to ankles with a mixture of pinfeathers and down, as they were. No, buzzards are beautiful birds, and are also a protected species in Italy – as well as in the US, I have just discovered – so what we were doing was also illegal; there is, however, no way I can turn away a baby of any type that needs my help.

I did my very best to be a good mom for those two bird waifs. And for once, Nino also did his part. He brought a big cage home where they could stay unharmed (we had a dog and a cat at the same period). They knew us; whenever they saw Nino or I they started to trill. They also graduated from chopped chicken livers to whole rabbit livers and moved from inside all day long to being outside during the day.

Their feathers grew in and suddenly they looked just like the bird here to the right, and we knew it was time to teach them two more things: they had to learn how to catch their own food and last, but not last in order of importance, how to fly.

The first wasn’t terribly difficult: we would toss the liver in the air and they would jump up and catch it. The second was a little more difficult, and a bit stranger. They had learned how to imitate, so Nino would run, flapping his arms and I would nudge them off my arms and they’d flap their wings and fall beak first into the soil. Oops! We’d try this several times and then let them rest.

And then, the long-dreaded day came; they took to the air without doing a beak-break dance, circled, trilled and flew off. I was heart-broken, but then, what mother isn’t when her fledglings take off on their own.

Epilogue

A couple of years later, Nino was out with one of his friends, herding the friend’s sheep. The sheep were grazing, and Nino and Gino were stretched out on their backs in the lush green summer grass. Suddenly, they heard a trilling sound; looking up, they saw that a bird was circling above them. It took a lazy downward spiral until the buzzard landed next to them on the grass.

It stayed with them for a couple of minutes of minutes, trilling the whole time. And then, as slowly and lazily as it descended, it spiraled up again, circled twice, and left.

Coincidence? Nino didn’t think so, and neither do I. My only question is: Was it Hairy or was it Mercurio?

 

 

Copyright © 09 April 2021. Mary E. Purpari. All Rights Reserved.