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.
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.
