We called it the Wee House — wee as in tiny. Once it had been a doctor’s office. It had three small rooms, a large bathroom and a tiny closet-like room where medicines were probably stored. Behind the house was a wooded path to the lake. We lived there quite comfortably for about a year.

One late spring morning, I was in my study, the medicine closet, when a loud rapping came from the roof. Drake, our yellow Lab, was first out the door, scaring away a woodpecker who, I guessed, was banging away at a rusted skeleton-like television antenna. He was back the next morning almost shaking the small house to its foundation. I ran out and shooed him away with an angry shout. It didn’t work. Neither did water from the garden hose. It almost seemed like he was enjoying his morning shower. I swear I saw him lift one wing and then the other to make sure he was a thoroughly clean bird.

I asked several neighbors why woodpeckers did such a dumb thing. Most thought it was a woodpecker’s way of sharpening his beak. The solution to the problem was obvious: The antenna had to be taken down. I took to the roof and after releasing rusty bolts and a tin bracket, the thing fell to the ground. Problem solved.

A few days later, I saw Edna Porter driving down to the lake. She was an older lady who cleaned camps before the owners came for the summer. Drake and I decided to take a walk and do a little visiting. We moved slowly. Drake was in his 12th year and arthritis was beginning to take a toll. Edna greeted us with a smile, anxious for the talk and a break from cleaning windows. We grumbled about the past winter. She told me her husband had spent most of the winter building birdhouses. He sold them through classified ads and the Internet. He was using some new lightweight wood that kept the mailing costs down. “Our son helped him start a computer …”

“Blog?” I said.

“That’s it. He’s got quite a few orders too.”

I was thinking how the computer was affecting us all when Drake lifted his head. Then we heard it. The unmistakable clash of beak on metal. “That’s my friend,” I said, ” sharpening his beak.”

Edna smiled. “No, he’s telling other woodpeckers to stay away from his territory. He’s using that metal stovepipe as a sounding board.”

“But when the summer people come with all their kids, won’t they intrude on his claim?”

“No, he isn’t concerned with us. We don’t eat worms and bugs, not the kind he likes, anyway.’

We talked more about birds and the coming summer and Drake waddled in the cool lake water.

It was time for lunch and I thanked Edna for her bird wisdom and left.

As we walked home, I thought about my woodpecker and his loss of territory when the antenna came down. He seemed to be adjusting, adapting well to change.

I remembered researching an article I was writing on the early pioneers of movie making. There was Auguste Lumiere and his brother who were the first to actually project a film image on a screen for an audience to enjoy. Auguste was born in 1862 and died in 1954. He was born during the second year of the Civil War and died at the beginning of the age of Elvis. Changes in the 92 years of his lifetime were phenomenal, mind numbing.

We’ve all used the old expression, “Death and taxes are the only sure things in life” but I would add change to the list. Change seems to beget change in the lifetime of us all as we grope for a truth, a reality to help us understand and adjust.

Drake snapped at a butterfly and I wondered if this would be one of his last summer strolls to the lake. A Bible verse came to me: Romans 12:2, ” Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is — His good, pleasing and perfect will.”

Transformed. What a beautiful word. It’s full of promise and hope and the love of God.

I wondered if Edna’s husband could make a birdhouse for a woodpecker. I would buy one — but only if it had a metal roof.

Ted Wallace is a retired teacher and radio disc jockey and may be reached at:

tcw2@midmaine.com

 

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