The Courier Electronic Edition

Stork arrives, but now the big bird won't leave


Living in the country, one gets used to unexpected visitors.Over the years, we've had close encounters with deer, raccoons, groundhogs, skunks, opossum, waterfowl, moles, mice, squirrels and of course, toads and snakes and a variety of bugs, big and small.

This past spring we even had a raft of wild turkey pass by.

But we've never had a guest quite like one that "landed" in our pond two weeks ago today.

My wife Jayme first spotted the dirty-white stork with an orange bill from the kitchen window and pointed it out to me when I went inside to take a break from mowing.

Excited by the sight, I called my daughters, Haley and Sophie, to the porch to take a look, but urged them to be quiet and not get too close — or it would certainly fly away.

We have had countless such visitors drop by the pond in the three years since we put it in, but cranes, herons, egrets, geese and ducks are all generally short-term visitors. They usually get spooked by the dog, a voice or a slamming door.

But not this particular bird. It stayed put as if it was frozen in place.

As the day wore on I found myself peering at it through binoculars and then inching closer and closer to it, amazed at its rigidity. At times I got within 15 yards, and it never seemed to flinch.

I don't make a habit of talking to birds I don't know, but admit at one point telling it to make itself at home.

Still, I kept my distance and even avoided mowing in the area, not wanting to disturb it. I convinced myself that it was just waiting for a fish to swim near or just resting up for its fall flight south or wherever such creatures go for the winter.

The next morning, I arose thinking my new friend would be long gone. But there it was in the early morning haze, in the exact position that I had last seen it the night before.

As the new day unfolded and we came and went to soccer games and other activities, I found myself glancing out to the pond, always expecting the stork to be gone. Each time I was pleasantly surprised to see that it hadn't departed.

I'll be the first to admit I'm gullible, but eventually even I got suspicious and I sent the girls out for a closer look. I told them to toss a pebble near the bird, or clap their hands and watch to see if it would move.

They returned minutes later, giddy by what they had discovered. The stork, they revealed, was a fake. Molded plastic. Painted beak. No wonder it hadn't moved!

I'd been "Punk'd" in my own pond.

Feeling a bit sheepish, especially since I'd been telling anyone who would listen about our passive visitor all weekend long, I tried to figure out who had pulled the prank.

Near the top of my suspect list, of course, was my wife who has tricked me a time or two over the years, mostly by putting others up to calling me with news tips in disguised voices. A part-time actress, it wouldn't be a stretch for her to create this illusion.

But Jayme, perhaps to deflect suspicion on herself, suggested the stork may have been a message that my oldest daughter, Bobbi, was expecting her second child. I quickly dispelled that theory, though, with a phone call. She assured me no more grandchildren were imminent.

Another prime suspect was a friend from Jenera, who spends great amounts of time plotting how he can make people look foolish. This is the same buddy who once conspired with others to wrap me in plastic at a hog roast years ago.

By coincidence, he stopped by the next day, but claimed ignorance when confronted about possible involvement with the stork. Turns out he had a good alibi.

I also questioned my sister, who is a floral designer and spends time shopping in places where I suspect plastic birds can be bought. But she too is pleading innocent.

I guess there is a chance the stork could have washed away from someone's landscape in the August flood, and a neighbor, finding it, decided our pond would be a good place for it to relocate.

So far no one is claiming credit for gifting the stork, and it remains parked at the edge of the pond, where it first appeared earlier this month.

With the mystery still unsolved, I'm now considering offering a reward for information that leads me to whoever made me look like a loon.

Someday, I'll flush out the jokester. Until then, everyone is a suspect and tips are welcome.

Contact staff writer Steve Dillon at:

(419) 427-8423

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