I was four when my family moved to the ‘Windy 3rd’. It was a beautiful little community nestled in the rolling hills of Northumberland. We lived between two lovely large families. All treated us like family from the moment we arrived.

I always felt like I had two extra sets of grandparents and spent a lot of time with both. Grandma and Grandpa lived on a thriving dairy farm; we spent many days hanging around the barns, feeding calves and getting in the way. Mormor and Morfar (Danish for mother’s mother and mother’s father) ran a hobby farm in their retirement years.

I especially loved spending time with Mormor and Morfar. Morfar was one of my favourite people growing up and one person I remember fondly from childhood: pipe-smoking, harmonic playing, bird-loving, Morfar! Side note: I must also say, Mormor was a fantastic baker. She made a wicked chocolate coffee cake that was just delicious!

Morfar always kept birds. Chickens, turkeys, peacocks, pheasants. I remember always being fascinated by them all. As kids, we loved to help him collect eggs and learn about his hobby. (Little did we know three of us kids would grow up to be bird hobbyists too!)

Our playhouse there was right outside his coop and enclosure. We spent so much time with the birds while we played house and dug around in the sandbox. Fun fact: I can make the sound of a peacock; that’s how much time we spent with them.

I remember Morfar had cassette tapes with bird songs recorded on them. I feel he recorded them himself (my memory is a bit fuzzy about that particular detail). Either way, someone would say a name then a bird would sing. I would listen to them and try to pronounce the Danish words. (I also remember my pronunciation being corrected, but I digress).

He probably didn’t realize how much it meant to us then, and more so now, the time we spent with him. And I know myself that’s where my love of birds began.

Siblings celebrate day they arrived in Brighton to begin new life in Canada (northumberlandnews.com)