Stork stories, the birds and the bees, and Koufovouno Paniyiri revisited

Now, where were we? Ah, yes: Koufovouno.

 When we arrived, what first caught our attention was the nest of storks, right across the road from our house. This year the nest atop the pole was really densely populated with five young ones. In the first picture these big bairns seem to be on the lookout, as usually they stand together facing away from the sun. They must be hungry and waiting to be fed.  

 And, right on cue, here comes lunch.  In the second picture you can see a chick being fed directly, though the tendency is for a large amount of food – insects, and earthworms for the wee bairns, then developing to fish, reptiles, small birds and mammals- to be disgorged and the brood feed from that.

 

         

 

 Both parents share the duties of incubating the eggs and of feeding the young; perhaps that is why we associate this bird with matters maternal. But there is one trait that does not comply with that image – that of killing weak or small chicks, which is sometimes done to reduce the number of mouths to feed in times of perceived food shortage. Neighbours have, indeed, seen fledgelings being dropped from the nest on the odd occasion. 

And while we’re on the subject of their own babes, why do we associate the stork with being the bringer of human babes? There are many stork stories to be told. Greek Mythology holds that Gerana , queen of the Pygmy race, boasted of being more beautiful than the goddess Hera who summarily turned her into a crane.  Some tales confuse birds, saying Hera turned her rival into a stork and that, to avenge her, the stork-woman tried to steal her son. So we have that image of the baby-bearing stork but stealing, not bringing - so far, so confused. 

Egyptian mythology associated the stork with the human soul, the ba, and the return of the stork represented the reanimation of the spirit of the deceased.  Here the association with babies is evident. Norse mythology identifies family values and commitment to one another with the stork. It is clear from the stork’s tendency to return to the same nest and to forge long-term partnerships that it could come to symbolize fidelity and monogamy. That they also arrive from their wintering grounds in spring, the time of fecundity and reproduction, connects them with the concept of birth.

 Certainly these tall tales have been a helpful resort for parents whose children broach the delicate issue of where babies come from. In English we say such conversations are about ‘the birds and the bees’. The stork has played a significant role there but where, oh, where do these bees come in?

After providing the food, the parent bird perched on a telegraph pole nearby clacking loudly-a sound made by rapidly opening and closing its bill, and amplified by its throat pouch. I wonder what was being communicated then? Perhaps telling its mate that the next meal was their responsibility!

They say that you can differentiate between the adult birds in that the male is the larger one. In this case the babes were so big we couldn’t really tell them apart from their parents. These youngsters, being ready to leave the nest as my later pictures show, must have been about two months old then. And after leaving the nest they will continue to be fed by their parents for up to three weeks, until they can fend for themselves.  Given that we could not tell child and parent apart, it is hardly surprising that the Ancient Greeks believed that the birds had in fact switched roles and that the young were tending their parents. This is why the law they passed stipulating that children must care for their elderly parents   was called the Pelargonia, pelargos being the Greek name for the stork.

 

            

While we were there we were lucky enough to sight the young take to the air. After several attempts at little jumps with outspread wings, off goes the first one. Had to be a girl for we girls say the female of the species usually develops more quickly and because…… it’s a maiden flight! Now what would the aeronautic equivalent of ‘breaking new ground’ be? – constructing new air corridors, perhaps? There’s our girl standing, albeit unsteadily, on our roof and so conferring good luck on the household!  Having taken that step, or rather, that leap into the air, she has set up a sense of inter-sibling rivalry, challenging the others to do the same.

And here’s the response: ‘I’m up for it! Yes, you see…. I did it!’

                          

To our delight we had two roof-top guests, though I don’t think the rest of the family were so pleased to have the flyer return and crash-land on them.

                                          

But we have been distracted- we’re in Koufovouno for the paniyiri. Nowadays the nod to the original agora or market place is the line of stalls set up on the main road. They sell all sorts of tatt: plastic weapons, toys and jewellery to attract the children. The peckish are catered for too, what with hotdogs, lollipops and candy floss- which goes by the name of ‘the old woman’s hair’ in Greek- eugh!

                     

Once again the Koufovouno Ladies’ Association has been busy and they’ve organised food, music and dance – another cause for celebration! First here’s a splendid Thracian headdress and next we see local beauties resplendent in their hand-made, handed-down traditional Koufovouno costume- just a wee bit heavy to be comfortable to dance in.

 

   

Falling as it did on a Saturday, the paniyiri was very well attended with villagers coming from far and wide to meet up and join in- but not on foot as was the case in the past! Here we are catching up on the news with Magda, our second-cousin. After the dance troupes performed their sets, everyone took to the floor and danced their socks off. But it was well after midnight when things really took off- this young man took centre-stage with the traditional Thracian bag-pipes and the place erupted. It was so great to see so many young lads and lasses proudly and enthusiastically responding to the call of the pipes.

 Incidentally, many Scottish pipers will recommend that whisky be used every now and then to disinfect the bag- I wonder if the Thracians use an ouzo equivalent?

    

 

      

 

 

     

       

The following day, after such late-nighting, we rose late and lazy, going for a wee stroll to admire neighbours’ bountiful broccoli, beautiful gourds and giant sunflowers.

 

But any mention of Koufovouno at this time of year must always, of necessity, feature garlic. Here is Kyria Adamoula busy processing her produce. Mistress would be the equivalent of the Greek Kyria since it is a form of polite address or title, not only a marker of marital status. Now that the bulbs have dried, she is plying the garlic stems into plaits for easy stacking and storing. Her granddaughter, spying the camera, could not miss the photo opp. – a right wee celebrity wannabe! 

                                              
    

                                                 

The final shot shows the garlic garland she was kind enough to give us we will remember her fondly and frequently as we prepare pungent meals from now on.

So we sadly say goodbye to the village and, as we do, we know that the storks, too, will soon be taking their leave. They will fly over Turkey, through the Levant, gaining lift from the thermal currents rising above the land mass, to reach their winter quarters in Africa.  

 What with stork-watching, bag-pipe skirling and the garlic aroma pervading our nostrils, our trip has been a rich sensory experience.