1) Sonia Sotomayor
2) Republican opinions about #1
3) Dick Cheney
4) Dick Cheney's children
5) George Bush
6) Laura Bush
7) Newt
8) Jon & Kate
9) "Octomom" (What a horrible image that conjures up)
10) Spelling Bees
11) Kids with poignant stories who participate in #9
12) "Slumdog Kids"
13) The destruction or salvation of the homes of #11
14) Jay Leno's farewell
15) Susan Boyle
to be continued...
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Bird Trouble
When I looked outside this morning I saw a cardinal, a blue jay and a woodpecker dining at my feeder, and a bluebird at the birdbath. But don't let this charming scene fool you. The truth is my family is having trouble with birds. It's not quite like "The Birds," more like "A Few Crazed Birds," but wierd enough.
It started a few weeks ago when my friend and ex-spouse Hans was driving over here--when all of a sudden, he says, a turkey vulture swooped down from the sky, put its claws around the rear-view mirror on the passenger side of his truck, yanked it completely off and flew away. It's a story you could easily doubt, but there's no disputing someone or something--like a deranged turkey vulture--removed the mirror.
Then a couple of days ago my son Max reported when he was walking from the house to his motorcycle, a hummingbird flew straight into his head, then flew away. Happily Max was already wearing his helmet; I hate to think of that long and pointy hummingbird beak anywhere near my son's head otherwise.
Now the last 24 hours a crazed female cardinal has been flinging herself into my bedroom window. The only time she stops is when the dogs or any of us are outdoors. She sits in the crepe myrtle in front of the window, chirps a little, then crashes into the window, while her handsome scarlet husband sings the familiar cardinal song on a nearby branch. Jerry first noticed this scenario yesterday morning and opened the blinds wide to see if there was a nest or baby birds on the ground, but no. There's no reason for this bird's strange behavior. I wonder if she would successfully crash through, how she would like ending up in my bedroom. Would she be delighted by the not-put-away-yet laundry on the chaise, every piece of my 7-piece red luggage stashed in the corner, the tall stack of Jerry's hobby magazines and the layer of dust on everything (after all, we do live on a gravel road)? I think she'd change her behavior instantly if only she knew what was on the other side of glass.
UPDATE 5/18: 48 hours later, the pitiful bird is still at it. Even when we scare her away, she reappears a while later. I'm very tempted to tape a picture of Dick Cheney to the window.
UPDATE 5/20: She's still at it, like clockwork at 5:30 a.m. each morning. I found a bright red Tickle Me Elmo and a scary Mickey Mouse stuffed toy and hung them by their stubby little arms in the windows. Take THAT, dumb bird!
UPDATE 5/21: Jerry decided to get serious about the situation and put big black plastic bags over the windows. Sure enough at 5:30 this morning, we heard the man cardinal's song and then the lady's chirpy call. I laid in bed all tense and waiting for the crashing to start...but it didn't. It seems the garbage bag strategy worked! Hopefully this deranged pair left. Just in case, we'll leave the plastic on the windows a little longer even though it looks pretty wierd.
UPDATE 6/8: Can you believe it? This insane bird is STILL crashing into the window--that is, the smaller middle window between the two large ones that Jerry covered with black garbage bags. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., there they are. First she makes a clicking type noise, he sings his Cardinal theme song, then CRASH. I really don't want to put a garbage bag on the only remaining window that lets the sun in. Isn't nesting season over soon? More for the sake of her tiny bird skull than for my peace of mind, I truly hope so.
It started a few weeks ago when my friend and ex-spouse Hans was driving over here--when all of a sudden, he says, a turkey vulture swooped down from the sky, put its claws around the rear-view mirror on the passenger side of his truck, yanked it completely off and flew away. It's a story you could easily doubt, but there's no disputing someone or something--like a deranged turkey vulture--removed the mirror.
Then a couple of days ago my son Max reported when he was walking from the house to his motorcycle, a hummingbird flew straight into his head, then flew away. Happily Max was already wearing his helmet; I hate to think of that long and pointy hummingbird beak anywhere near my son's head otherwise.
Now the last 24 hours a crazed female cardinal has been flinging herself into my bedroom window. The only time she stops is when the dogs or any of us are outdoors. She sits in the crepe myrtle in front of the window, chirps a little, then crashes into the window, while her handsome scarlet husband sings the familiar cardinal song on a nearby branch. Jerry first noticed this scenario yesterday morning and opened the blinds wide to see if there was a nest or baby birds on the ground, but no. There's no reason for this bird's strange behavior. I wonder if she would successfully crash through, how she would like ending up in my bedroom. Would she be delighted by the not-put-away-yet laundry on the chaise, every piece of my 7-piece red luggage stashed in the corner, the tall stack of Jerry's hobby magazines and the layer of dust on everything (after all, we do live on a gravel road)? I think she'd change her behavior instantly if only she knew what was on the other side of glass.
UPDATE 5/18: 48 hours later, the pitiful bird is still at it. Even when we scare her away, she reappears a while later. I'm very tempted to tape a picture of Dick Cheney to the window.
UPDATE 5/20: She's still at it, like clockwork at 5:30 a.m. each morning. I found a bright red Tickle Me Elmo and a scary Mickey Mouse stuffed toy and hung them by their stubby little arms in the windows. Take THAT, dumb bird!
UPDATE 5/21: Jerry decided to get serious about the situation and put big black plastic bags over the windows. Sure enough at 5:30 this morning, we heard the man cardinal's song and then the lady's chirpy call. I laid in bed all tense and waiting for the crashing to start...but it didn't. It seems the garbage bag strategy worked! Hopefully this deranged pair left. Just in case, we'll leave the plastic on the windows a little longer even though it looks pretty wierd.
UPDATE 6/8: Can you believe it? This insane bird is STILL crashing into the window--that is, the smaller middle window between the two large ones that Jerry covered with black garbage bags. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., there they are. First she makes a clicking type noise, he sings his Cardinal theme song, then CRASH. I really don't want to put a garbage bag on the only remaining window that lets the sun in. Isn't nesting season over soon? More for the sake of her tiny bird skull than for my peace of mind, I truly hope so.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Before, During, After
BEFORE...
DURING...
AFTER...Abigail the Old English Sheepdog is now ready for the hot Central Missouri summer. It always takes a few days to get used to this warm-weather version of her...like having two dogs in one. A lovely girl, fluffy or sheared. After a dramatic life living on two farms, with a man-dog she apparently didn't care for (no puppies), and being threatened with a bullet in the head (for allegedly killing a goat--not typical herder behavior), I'm grateful she landed here with us.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Wild Days
It's getting wild out here...as in wild things and wildflowers. I uncovered this little toad yesterday under a pile of leaves that had accumulated next to the front door all winter. He obliged me by jumping onto an oak leaf to have his picture taken.
Wildflowers are popping up on the edges of our woods. These early examples are just the beginning of the parade of wildflowers that will last through October. Although it's May I haven't seen any May apples. Maybe they're deeper in the woods than I've ventured lately. I love their shiny leaves and the unusual way the delicate white flowers bloom beneath them.
When I lived in Hermann, one of my favorite events was the annual wildflower walk each May at a nearby state park. Whole families would take part in this highly anticipated event, during which we'd see at least two dozen or more species. Several people had been going on the walk for many years; they kept journals in which they noted having seen more than 100 flowers, including some extremely rare ones, over the course of all the walks.
Some of these same people also hunted morels. I suppose morel season has passed now. I never knew about this hysteria-inducing mushroom before I moved to Hermann. We never had morel walks because everyone had his or her own "secret" morel-hunting spot and made a big deal out of it. As a result, over time I found the whole morel business more and more obnoxious. The mushroom tastes okay; finding and preparing it seemed like a lot of bother for something not all that special. But above all, I thought the supposed location of a bunch of mushrooms (which may or may not be the same place every year) was a dumb thing to act all mysterious about.
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