On a visit to a country store that advertised ‘real & genuine antique artifacts’ I came upon an unusual bird house. It was made from a variety of wood scraps, none very identifiable, but it had a certain character. Shaped like a 2-story miniature Victorian with dainty gingerbread trim, it looked more like a doll house. The name “Stroud” and a date of 1923 were carved on the bottom. I’d been looking for another bird house to accompany my chickadee nesting box, and hoped to attract the nearby bluebirds that were coming into nesting season. The box could be ideally located in my back yard, close to the open fields but sheltered and protected from predators so I made the purchase.
I hung it on a tree about 10 feet from the chickadee box on a windy morning, and this strange sound started coming from it. The sides of the house had a few cracks in the wood, and the nest hole seemed normal, but the direction of the wind focused on this new bird house almost like a mini tornado. There was this strange, almost agonizing groaning coming from it. The chickadee box did not move an inch nor was it affected by the wind. I didn’t think much about this and waited until the wind died down in the evening when everything seemed to return to normal.
The next day I checked on the 2 houses, and things seemed to be normal. The house finches, goldfinches, towhees, sparrows, titmice, scrub jays came to the nearby feeders and flew over to the wall fountain for water. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until late in the afternoon when a wind came up and again these gruesome sounds started coming from the newly purchased bird house. The wind directed its force only to the new bird house, not the chickadee box, nor any of the feeders. Even the wind chimes did not move nor ring. This new box swung, swayed, moaned and groaned all by itself. I took it down from its place, and set it on the ground.
The next morning I checked the feeders, chickadee box and then the new house that had been set on the ground. All was calm, until once more, later in the day, a wind came up and unbelievably, directed itself right at the new bird house on the ground. The same sounds emanated from it and the force blew it over to expose the name and date on the bottom. Then the noises changed to gentle, whining and whimpering sounds.
When I explained all of this activity to my partner, he dowsed it. His arm holding the dowsing rod started to shake and the rod swung violently in a crosswise movement indicating this bird house had very bad energy or ‘mojo’. This was repeated at another time during the day with the same conclusion. His recommendation was that no amount of 'cleansing' would heal the bad energy in this birdhouse and it should be destroyed.
On researching the origin of the word Stroud, it appeared that this bird house may have been made by Robert Stroud, The Birdman of Leavenworth, who was also known as The Birdman of Alcatraz. It was during his incarceration at Leavenworth, Kansas that he did indeed raise birds (mainly canaries) and became a noted ornithologist. However, this man was a psychopath, a very dangerous criminal who was incarcerated from 1909 until 1959, and then sent to a medical center for federal prisoners in Springfield, Missouri until he died in 1963. My bird house was most likely made by Robert Stroud when he was in Leavenworth, and there was no way that I would be raising dear little bluebird families in this house haunted by the ghost of Robert Stroud.
I burned the birdhouse in a fire pit and in the process that strange wind returned fanning the flames in the pit issuing gentle sighing sounds that sounded like a release. In a short time all there was left was a small pile of purple ashes which I scooped into a paper bag. On the next stormy day, I drove to the coast and cast the bag into Pacific on the outgoing tide.
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