Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Puppet Camp 2012

David went to a summer camp in Enderby last year called, "puppet camp". The theme was local birds. Each child created a puppet, created a flag representing the bird's habitat, and created a replica of the type of nest that bird would use. At puppet camp, the children chose the bird they wanted to make, and that was their nickname for the rest of the week. David chose "Meadowlark".  You can see the nest on the chair near him. We still have the flag and the puppet, but the homemade nest from sticks and mud had a very ripe smell by the time we got it home in our hot trunk on that summer day, so it has been returned to the wild.
Meadow Lark on stage and waiting for audience to seated.

At the end of the week, parent's were invited to come see the play the children had written and were going to perform with their puppets. In the next picture you can see the puppet Meadow Lark in the upper right corner. Here David is speaking his line in the play ... which may have been the morning whistle of the Meadow Lark.
Here Meadow Lark checks to see if his parents are watching. Dawn Cranswick, also known as "Red Winged Blackbird" is by his side. She attended the camp with him, providing support where needed. A few weeks ago David sent her a text asking her to help him make some modifications to a book they had co-written about Cats a few years ago. She responded by inviting him over for a two hour pizza lunch so they had time to work on second edition revisions and play some board games. She is the person who ran Science Club and Sports Club for David and his friends when he was in Kindergarten.

And here is it at the end of the play, gathered with the other birds, waiting to take his bow.


  1. Loved the post.


    Caw Caw (Old Crow)

  2. This sounds like the most amazing camp. I wonder what bird i would have chosen for me since there are so many that I love. I would love to know why David chose meadow lark. I think it is the perfect bird for him.

  3. I love the name your friend Dawn picked -- red-winged black bird. I have a favourite song about that bird written by a man named David Francey.

    Here are the lyrics:

    And here is a Youtube clip of the song:

    I love this song because it is about spring arriving and for David Francey, the first sign that spring is near is hearing red-winged black birds.


  4. When I went to the utube clip, I thought I was going out to hear Black Bird Singing in the Dead of Night. No. That was not what I heard. I had to go to the lyrics to get every word, since even though the singing was in Canadian, it was a little too Eastern Canadian for me to get it all.

    I noticed that the singer looked like Trell to me. The same beard. Many of the same body mannerisms. But the accent? No. That didn't work as being him.

    Thanks for the fun,

    Old Crow

  5. David Francey is originally from Scotland. Has not lost his accent after decades of living in Canada. He is a fabulous song writer.

    Here is a great song about being a paperboy.

    Read the lyrics first so you can understand the song.


    (David Francey writes about this song -- The first job I ever had was delivering newspapers in the village of Kilmaurs, Ayrshire, Scotland. Those
    early mornings gave me a feeling of freedom and
    contentment and the paper opened the world to me.
    I hope I'll always be that paper boy.)

    Down to the agent's shop I'd go
    I'd shoulder my bag down the Irvine Road
    Past the council houses, row on row
    When I was a paper boy
    With the Daily Record and the People's Friend
    I'd go down to the Sunnyside again
    Under the bridge where the railway bends
    When I was a paper boy

    And my feet flew in the morning light
    Racing the dawn as the sky grew bright
    And everything in the world was right
    When I was a paper boy
    I'd walk the morning and the empty streets
    Would ring to the sound of my own two feet
    And I'd walk in step to my own heartbeat
    When I was a paper boy

    As the rain rolled down the back of my neck
    I delivered the news of death and sex
    Rhodesia, Speck and Malcolm X
    When I was a paper boy
    Crow in a tree top way up high
    Hung as a warning, left to die
    And the moaning wind in the morning sky
    When I was a paper boy

  6. Hello,

    I did as you said, read the words to "The Paper Boy" and then went out and heard the song twice. Then I came back to read the lyrics again and couldn't read them without putting the rhythm of the song to work in them. Nice. So I have a few questions, Mary.

    1. When and where did you first come upon this folk singer.

    2. Have you ever wondered what he was singing about when he talks about hanging a crow? If not, go see