About the time that Suzanne's cherry tree was going off with deep red fruit, ours being still a few weeks away, a rhythm set in. As my morning's in Charmé tend to begin at daybreak, unable to stay in the sheets with birdsong and the distant echo of roosters signaling the possibilities, I'd find myself outside with a bowl of
café au lait trying to gauge the day. At 6:00 straight up I'd hear the muffled clap of shutters opening from over at Suzanne's property, go to greet her, at which point she'd hand me the secret ally in her defense against hungry birds: a transistor radio.
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| Suzanne and the prized branch. |
This I would place in a high saddle of limbs, set preferably with some music that included an accordion, then stand there gorging on cherries. With the directive clear, "If you don't eat them the birds will!", I would eat more than I thought I could. Probably, more than I should have. Inevitably another neighbor would happen by to join in, my favorite for style points was Antoine who'd climb from his tractor cab using the large tires to get the high branch's. Then it was time to continue on with the morning, and accept that the birds would have their turn. Whether it be a mole or rabbit in the kitchen garden, or birds in the fruit trees, the animals will always have their share. Plantings are made a bit larger with this in mind.
Radios, old cd's dangling by fishing line, and the odd netting here and there are meant to merely slow them down a bit. Only seldom does an extreme technique enter into the fray, as when Suzanne had Katie climb up to remove one especially laden branch that she would save for her brother Jean Claude, not expected to arrive for a visit from Normandy for a few more days. He got his cherries, and we were to treated to clafoutis.
(http://www.chez-gautier.com)
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