Birdhouse Roots

Contact Info And A Special Poem

After so much wonderful, positive response to our two part series on the Birdhouse Man, I wanted to clarify one small thing - John is not the Birdhouse Man’s actual name and I kept his address out of print for a reason.

First, you can check out those stories here, Birdhouse Man Part 1 and Birdhouse Man Part 2.

I’m not working for any official media and given the location of John’s home I wanted to be sure to maintain his privacy. That said, I heard from a woodworking friend of his from the area and he explained that John would be happy with any business.

So, for today, I’ll compromise. If any of my readers are from the Buffalo area or may find themselves there and they’d like to visit John’s birdhouses, simply let me know either via email or in comments and I’m happy to give you directions!

Meantime, my old friend and one of the most wonderful poets I know, Ed Pacht, wrote a poem about the Birdhouse Man and our visit and he gave me permission to re-print that poem here. So that’s what we’ll do. We’re so proud of Ed and his work!

Here’s a link to an article about Ed becoming Rochester NH poet laureate - The Wandering Bard

And so, for the first time, we present the poem here, Birdhouse Roots, by Ed Pacht.

Birdhouse Roots

Time moves on.

Neighborhoods grow

and roots are put down

and from those roots we grow.

Generations come to be,

and grow,

and move away,

and time moves on.

Neighborhoods grow,

and nearly die,

and memories start to fade

in those whose roots were there,

but like the little house

where birds are born and fly away

neighborhoods can wait until

the day at last can come

when roots again reach down

and generations grow again

and a little girl

whose roots are there

can find those roots anew

and in the little house she takes away

cherish what she had not known.

Time moves on,

it surely does,

and things will always change,

but though they sometimes seem to fade

memories do not die.

~ Ed Pacht