I ran out to the balcony with the camera just in time to see two ravens alight in a tall fir tree about forty feet from the house. The crows were close behind them, circling and dive bombing---determined to get the ravens out of their territory.

We love to think of birds as living lives of happy ease, singing away every morning, raising their broods, traveling to milder climates in the winter, but the truth is that every day is a life or death struggle for any but the top predators (eagles and some of the larger hawks). Birds lose their young to racoons, cats, dogs, and many other birds. Just a week ago, I saw a hawk carrying off something and two weeks before that our resident Steller's jay lost both of her youngsters to another, smaller hawk. It is extremely rare for the local family of jays (about eight birds) to raise more than one or two birds a year to maturity and some years not a single nestling survives.

But getting back to the crows. It was quite a dramatic display. They ran the ravens, three of them, aground in another tree and then continued to mob them while the ravens fended them off and issued verbal challenges.

Eventually, the ravens saw an opening and lit out in different directions, but they only got as far as the next tree before the crows drove them to perch again. As long as the ravens were in the tree, the crows dive-bombed them. As soon as the ravens tried to escape through flight, the crows lit off after them at stunning speed. I've never seen them fly to fast. It's a miracle the camera caught any pictures at all. Focusing on a small, fast-moving dark dot against a light-colored sky is almost impossible. I shot about twenty pictures to get four or five good ones.

After about fifteen minutes, I was beginning to think the ravens would never make their escape. I don't know if they were just passing through or if they were looking for tasty black baby crows to eat for brunch, but either way, the crows were not going to let them set up housekeeping anywhere in this neighborhood. They rousted the ravens from the fir tree and hightailed it after them until they disappeared beyond the treetops. I managed to get one shot of them before the crows rousted them and all the birds, ravens and crows together, disappeared. --- Mya

I've never seen the Ferndale games before and I had the impression the park where the games are held was north of the city. I expected there to be signs and banners everywhere announcing the Games, but there was nothing. After driving around town for about ten minutes, looking for signs, I gave up and asked a policeman. He motioned me to go south, so I followed an increasingly narrow road until we reached the park. En route, I didn't see a single sign. I guess the Ferndalians don't really want anyone outside of the community to know about the Games. I have to admit, I only just heard about them three years ago.

Once I reached the entrance, the flaggers waved me into a mowed field. I was afraid I had been directed to the wrong park. There were acres and acres of cars. I was expecting haggis, kilts, and bearded pipers to be everywhere, but all I could see was cars. Even once I got out and started walking in the same direction as everyone else (yes, even I sometimes behave as a herd animal), it took a while before I reached the events.

Herd That. Then things brightened up. They were coursing the working dogs, many of them Australian shepherds and other breeds that are used to herd farm animals. I watched a well-intentioned, but slightly overenthusiastic dog chasing, I mean herding, I mean, chasing ducks. S/He was doing a great job, actually, except that every time victory was near, the dog would get excited and go full speed after the ducks. This would spook the little quackers and they would separate into two or three groups---the dog then had to start again.

It was great fun to watch it, though, and the dog was doing very well considering the time it takes to season and train a good herd dog.

Following the Pipes. Then it was time to find the pipers. Bagpipers, that is. People seem to either love or hate the bagpipes. I love them when they are played well. There was bagpipe music pretty much the whole day and I don't remember getting tired of it. It didn't take long to find the pipers, just follow the hrrmmmmmmm hrrmmmmmmm dee-dow-dow dee-dow-dow-da-da-dee-dee, dee-dow-dow-dow-da-da dee-dee dee-dowdy-dowdy-doo deedy-deeda da-daaa, well, you get the idea. I was delighted to find not just a handful of pipers or a bandful of pipers, but a whole BUNCH of bandsful of pipers, all wearing kilts, sporrans, garters, and, of course, their bagpipes. I also discovered highland dancers, athletes, and loads of families happily enjoying the events. Some were wearing everyday clothes, some were wearing contemporary casual and ceremonial kilts, and some were even dressed in authentic historic attire.

I was hoping there would be some traditional Scottish food. Apparently, I wasn't the only one---I heard several people asking about haggis and other questionable Scottish "delights." The only haggis I saw was a strange little bloated hedgehoggie-lookin' thang---a stuffed animal named "Haggis." Other than that, only one booth had sausagy sorts of foods, the rest was local fast food vendors (I suppose a McDonald's hamburger could be considered a strange cousin of the haggis) and a few local vendors. Eventually I bought a Greek giros and home-made ice cream. That's okay. Scottish food is traditionally heavy and lighter fare was fine with me. I just imagined I was eating haggis and a side of bacon as I munched on my veggie giros.

Hurling from Greater Heights. After enjoying the booths, the music, the dancing, a trip up into the tower, and a tour through the historic homestead, I found a seat on the grass by the athletic field and spent a couple of hours watching the tug-o'-war, hammer throw, bale tossing, caber tossing (yes, they really do hurl a post almost as big as a telephone pole across a field). It was quite impressive. The woman next to me kept smiling and saying, "Those guys are brutes!" They are indeed big, very strong guys and the feats of strength were amazing. I don't think I could toss a 25-pound bale of sheaves more than a few feet and they were hurling them over a bar set at 25 feet. The hammer looked like it could bust open a sold wood door (it's a big iron? ball) and the cabers, the huge logs, almost took one guy's head off when he overbalanced it for a few moments. All-in-all a very fun time.

From my research over the last few years, I've learned that the Highland Games as we know them aren't strictly traditional in their current form, but they are based on many traditional Scottish activities, such as hoisting sheaves, tossing hammerlike objects in historic warfare, as well as including traditional music and dances.

Kilts and Cabers. The kilt has undergone a few changes over the centuries, as well, but the contemporary version of it was a big favorite at the games. Many of the vendors had "clan" tartans, along with maps of the regions where the different tartans were worn. Scottish people tracing their family histories have an unenviable problem compared to some other nationalities. In parts of Scotland, in days gone by, a name didn't necessarily represent a blood relationship, since a person would customarily take the name of the clan chieftain when joining a new clan. Thus, a newcomer could become a McDonald without being blood related to other McDonalds. I guess the chieftains were more concerned with community than blood kinship as far as names were concerned.

One Scottish man (a writer and historian) insisted you didn't have to choose a tartan after your name, that you could choose any tartan you liked, based on color and pattern. I didn't understand this at first because we North Americans often hear a different story, but if a person is free to join a clan (assuming s/he is accepted into the clan) and can take the name of that clan, then there is a certain element of choice in the matter. Hmmmm, now which clan has the prettiest colors? I'm kidding. But that blue and green one looked pretty good.

Well, the day went fast and I had a great time. It didn't rain and I had a chance too see a little bit of everything. All-in-all, it was fun, colorful, and festive experience. --- Mya