A bird in the hand...

Kiddo and I went with some friends to a nearby park this morning that has a trail frequented by wild birds as well as people. (How crazy is this weather - it was in the 50s here today! Outdoors in a light jacket in late November? Woohoo!) The reason we went to this particular trail was because we'd heard if you bring some bird seed with you, put some in your hand, hold your arm out and stay very still and quiet, you can be a human bird feeder!

Our friends had done this before, and told us if you try this in the winter, the chickadees positively swarm your hand to devour the seeds. Today's chickadees seemed pretty well-fed, as the trail was quite busy with human bird feeders. (We also saw cardinals, jays, woodpeckers and finches, but only the chickadees ventured onto our hands.) We weren't exactly swarmed, but we each had birds land on our hands a few times. We will definitely go back in the winter to feed the birds again!


(PS - Another plea as we're now just 17 days away from my birthday.... won't you please help me make my 40th birthday wish come true? Thanks so very much!!)

Speaking of cute, little birdies...

To go along with the retelling of how my grandmother gassed her beloved canary (see below), I have another bird-related item to share.

Hubby was watching the show How It's Made, which we love here at our house, while he was cooking dinner tonight. He called Kiddo and me downstairs to watch something he'd just seen. He said it was the best How It's Made segment he'd ever watched, and after watching it twice (because I just couldn't believe my eyes the first time), I have to concur. Thankfully, some intrepid souls (who obviously share our amazement at this whole thing) have uploaded the relevant segment to YouTube.

Check these chicks out! Seriously, this is wild!!!



I mean, I guess it makes sense that there are commercial hatcheries, but isn't that the craziest thing you've ever seen? Kiddo and I were cracking each other up by narrating the chicks' journey down the various contraptions: "Whooooooooa! CHUTE!" etc... hilarious!

Of course, this didn't stop us for a second from enjoying the chicken and sausage pasta dish Hubby whipped up for dinner. 'Twas delicious!

Nana and the Canary, an Allegedly True Tale

Cast of characters:
Nana: an elderly woman, well meaning but more than a little bit flaky
Kitty: Nana's much put-upon neighbor
Bob: crotchety pet store owner
and
Tweety: Nana's beloved pet canary
Yogi: Kitty's one year old golden retriever

Scene 1. Nana's kitchen, early afternoon. Nana is pacing back and forth, worried.

Nana: (to herself) I just don't know what to do... I've tried everything I can think of... They didn't really teach us about canaries back in nursing school... What should I do? I know - I'll call Kitty. (She reaches for the telephone and hits speed dial 1.) Hello, Kitty? It's Nana. I'm worried about Tweety. He doesn't seem...right. Can you come over and take a look at him? (pause) I know you aren't a vet, but you are a nurse... I mean, you were until you retired last year...you must remember about these things better than I can! (increasingly frantic) PLEASE, Kitty, please come take a look, I don't know what to do and Tweety just isn't right! (pause) Okay, thanks, see you in ten minutes.

Scene 2. Kitty's kitchen, early afternoon. She hangs up the phone and sighs in exasperation.

Kitty: Honestly! I don't know what else I would do with my time if I didn't have Nana and her crises to worry about. To think I thought I'd get some work done in the garden today... (She whistles for her dog.) Yogi! Come on boy, let's go for a ride in the car. We're going down the hill to Nana's house...again.

Scene 3. Nana's front yard, about 20 minutes later. Nana is standing at the end of her driveway, peering anxiously up the road for Kitty's car.

Nana: Where can she be? She only lives a mile away! I could've walked there from here by now, and I'm almost 86! Oh hurry, please hurry.... Oh, here she comes now. Thank goodness! (She waves frantically as Kitty pulls up and gets out of her car.)

Kitty: (to Yogi, under her breath) Good thing she was standing out here waving; it isn't as if we haven't been here a million times before! (Aloud) Stay, Yogi. Good boy. I'll be right back. Hello, Nana, where's the bird?

Nana: He's in the house, come on, quickly!

Scene 4. Nana's kitchen. Kitty and Nana enter. Classical music is blaring from a radio on the counter next to the cage. Kitty peers into the cage, but it is empty.

Kitty: (shouting above the music) Can we turn this down a tad, Nana? I didn't know you were going (she switches the radio off) deaf in your old age, too! Now then, where's the bird?

Nana: (distracted) Oh, Tweety likes the radio, and I thought it would cheer him up. Usually, he starts singing right away, as soon as I put the radio on - that classical station is his favorite. But today that didn't even help. I thought he might have an ear infection - I mean, birds must have ears even though we can't see them, right and if they have them they could get them infected, right? - so I turned the radio up to be sure he could hear it. Oh dear, I hope he is all right...

Kitty: (mildly annoyed) Where is he, Nana?

Nana: (continuing as if Kitty hadn't spoken) Well, the other day, I noticed he had this...this THING on his foot. Like a growth or something. So, I tried to soak it with Epsom Salts a few times a day to see if that would help it, but it didn't. That's what I did for old Joe when he had ingrown toenails, and it always worked for him. You remember my husband Joe don't you? We were married 53 years when he died. He would've known what to do for the bird's foot. So, this morning, when I checked his cage I noticed Tweety could barely move. He was just kind of holding on with that one little foot, he couldn't even hop over to his food dish. He could barely stand upright when I put him in the Epsom Salts bath. That's why I thought he might have an ear infection - from getting the salty water in his ears, since he kept tipping over into it. Canaries apparently aren't water birds, like ducks, because he wasn't floating really at all. Joe Junior always got ear infections when he went swimming - swimmer's ear, the doctors called it. I told that boy being a lifeguard was a silly choice for a summer job for someone who was so prone to swimmer's ear infections, but he wanted to hang out on the beach and show off for the girls, you know? What could I -

Kitty: (exasperated beyond all patience) Nana!!! WHERE IS THE BIRD???

Nana: (startled out of her monologue) Oh! The bird. Well, Tweety was shaking, so I thought he had caught a chill from the water. So, I put him in the oven to keep him warm until you got here. (She notices the look of shock on Kitty's face and grows alarmed.) I didn't turn it on very high - I put it on the lowest setting, "warm" that's all. I just couldn't stand to see him chilled and shivering.

Kitty: (as she rushes across the kitchen to the oven) Nana, when did you put him in there?

Nana: (upset) Right after we got off the phone. Oh dear, you don't think it is too warm in there for him, do you? I mean, aren't canaries tropical birds? He should be used to the heat...

Kitty: (peering into the oven and thinking quickly) Nana, I think I'd better take Tweety to the vet. Why don't you get me a shoe box to put him into?

Nana hurries out of the room. She returns moments later with a shoe box. Kitty reaches into the oven, snatches out the very dead bird, and quickly hides the corpse in the shoe box. Nana is in tears.

Kitty: (firmly) Nana, I'm going to take Tweety to the vet right now. You stay here, I know you don't like riding in the car with Yogi. (She leaves, box in hand.)

Scene 5. A local pet store. Kitty enters, clutching the shoe box. Bob stands behind the register, a surly expression on his face. He is aimlessly thumbing through an issue of Cat Fancy.

Bob: (slightly more than a grunt) Can I help you?

Kitty: Yes. (She places the shoebox on the counter next to the register and removes the lid.) I need to buy a canary that looks exactly like this one.

Bob peers into the shoe box.

Bob: What happened to this one? It smells a bit...funky. Almost like...(sniffs loudly into the box)...gas.

Kitty: It died, obviously. Of...old age. Do you have a bird here that looks like it?

Bob: Yep, sure do. Do you want me to dispose of this one for you, too?

Scene 6. Kitty's car. Kitty pulls up in front of a grocery store. The new canary is in the shoebox on the front seat, and Yogi is sitting in the back seat.

Kitty: Yogi, you stay put. I just need to run in and pick up some milk. Can't afford anything else, now that I'm out $95 for that damn bird! (She gets out of the car and heads into the store.)

Scene 7. Grocery store parking lot, seven minutes after Kitty entered the store. She approaches the car carrying a grocery bag holding one gallon of milk and Soap Opera Digest.

Kitty: Oh no - what the ??? (She looks into her car with much anxiety.) Damn it, Yogi - those are FEATHERS, aren't they?

Scene 8. Bob's Pet Store.

Kitty: Hello again. I need you to sell me another bird that looks like the one I just bought.

Bob: (suspiciously) You need another bird? Lady, I'm not selling you another bird! What the heck happened to the one I just sold you 15 minutes ago?

Kitty: (frazzled) Well, if you won't sell me another bird, can I have my first bird back?

Scene 9. Nana's kitchen, three hours and a half tank of gas later. Kitty enters carrying the shoe box.

Kitty: (with forced brightness) Here you go, Nana. Good as new! (She places the new canary into the cage.)

Nana: (relieved) Oh goodness, Kitty, I was worried - you were gone so long! I was afraid something bad had happened to my precious Tweety!

Kitty: Well, the, uh, the vet had to operate and it took a while, what with the anesthesia and all... So the vet bill was pretty high, too, as you can imagine...

Nana: (not really listening) Oh yes, operations...those do take a while. I remember when Joe Junior had his tonsils out. He was in the hospital three whole days! And he didn't care a whit since he could eat all the ice cream he wanted. I thought it was down right irresponsible of that hospital to give him something as unhealthy as ice cream for three whole days! (to canary) You don't want any ice cream, do you, Tweety bird? No, birdie boy doesn't want any ice cream. He just wants his radio. (She switches on the radio. Classical music begins blaring as loudly as before.) There you are, Tweety.

Kitty: (shouting above the radio) Like I was saying, Nana, the vet bill was pretty high. It came to a hundred and ninety dollars. I paid it for you, of course, since you weren't there, and I knew you wouldn't want Tweety to go without treatment...

Nana: (completely distracted) Yes, yes, of course you did. Well, thank you so much for your help. To show my appreciation, here's a loaf of zucchini bread I baked earlier today. The zucchini came right from my own garden... (She stares intently at the bird.) He looks a bit strange, doesn't he, Kitty?

Kitty: (somewhat panicked) Strange? What do you mean, strange? I mean, he is still... uh... recovering from the anesthesia... that must be what you mean, right?

Nana: Oh, yes, that must be it. Well, thanks again for your help Kitty. Here's your bread. You probably want to get Yoga home for dinner, poor thing's been in the car all day, he must be hungry.

Kitty is so relieved that Nana didn't realize she is now the owner of a completely different bird that she grabs the bread from Nana and bolts out of the door.

Scene 10. Kitty's garden, three weeks later. Nana has dropped by to visit and has been chatting at Kitty for the past hour. Kitty is bent over her petunia bed and is doing her best to ignore Nana.

Nana: ...so anyhow, Joe never liked birds at all, and so he probably wouldn't have minded if the bird had dropped dead from his infected toenail. God rest his soul.

Kitty: (suddenly tuning in to Nana's words) What?! The bird died after all that?

Nana: (confused) What? My bird died??? What do you mean?

Kitty: (also confused) You said "God rest his soul" just now. You mean your bird's soul? I thought that the bird was fine - should've been after all the money I forked over for it...

Nana: No, no, not the BIRD'S soul, Joe's soul. You know, we were married 53 years before he died... (Suddenly looking intently at Kitty) But now that you mention it, you know what IS strange about the bird?

Kitty: (stomach instantly knotting) Wh-wh-what?

Nana: Well, ever since his operation, he has stopped singing to his classical music station. Now he will only sing when I put the radio to the country and western station. Doesn't that just beat all?

The end.

***
The above tale is based on a true story. Only some names and minor details were changed to protect the identity of the well-meaning and not at all put-upon relatives who came to Nana's rescue in the Great Canary Gassing and Replacement.

Ramble-rama

Warning: I feel a long-n-rambling post coming on here...

This has been quite a week here in the Smith house. It kicked off on Sunday with the arrival of Grandma and Grandpa from the motherland (aka New Jersey). The kiddo was especially excited about this because Grandpa was going to go fishing with her in the pond behind our property. She sat on the back deck for most of the afternoon, practicing casting with her new Dora fishing pole (which was a birthday present and had yet to be used) interspersed with impatient, repeated questioning as to G&G's whereabouts ("Are they still in Pennsylvania? They're in New York now? We're in New York so they should be at our HOUSE now, Mommy!") and then persistent requests to call them (oh the joy of the ubiquitous cell phone) to see how far along they were. Now, as the kiddo well knows by now, it is a six hour drive from our house to theirs, if you're driving reasonably close to the speed limit. My dad? He makes Mario Andretti look like a turtle. (Um, sorry, I'm wholly unfamiliar with NASCAR and therefore do not know any more current drivers. I could call my 4 year old nephew and/or his father, who are NASCAR fans, or I could google NASCAR and come up with someone better to illustrate my example, but I'm feeling lazy and therefore will just blather on about how I don't know any race car driver other than Mario. He's a classic at least, right?) Dad can usually make the trip up here in less than five hours, but even that wasn't fast enough for the kiddo. She had him out in the back yard looking for worms for bait within approximately three seconds of their car pulling into our driveway. I'm pleased to report that the fishing expedition was a rousing success - the kiddo caught her first fish ever on her very first cast! It was a sunfish (I'm pretty sure sunnies are the only fish in there, this pond isn't exactly a sport-fisher's paradise) and it was almost bigger than my father's palm. The kiddo was so thrilled it didn't even matter that the sunny was no larger than her (admittedly big, fat) goldfish, Swimmy. Grandpa duly unhooked him, we admired him and then Grandpa tossed him back into the murk. I'm pretty sure that the kiddo then proceeded to catch that same sunfish at least twice more over the next hour, along with one sunfish that Grandpa said was ready to lay her eggs (no idea how he deduced that as I was busy trying to wipe goose poop off the bottom of my flip-flop) and one that both Grandpa and the kiddo swore was MUCH larger than the first (second, and third) sunfish. Like two inches bigger. Woo! Now the kiddo has majorly caught the fishing bug, so I envision many a future weekend afternoon spent digging up various corners of the back yard in search of worms and then waving to Daddy and the kiddo as they stand down by the pond. (I haven't obtained a fishing license yet this year, so technically I cannot help the kiddo fish, but Daddy has his already, so he's good to go.)

So, that was Sunday. Monday morning, Grandpa left and the kiddo had her second-to-last day of preschool. I had to help set up and then clean up the teacher-staff appreciation lunch that we were throwing that day, so Grandma, who was along for the ride, got drafted to help with that. She mostly helped by keeping the kiddo occupied and out of my hair so I could attend to the setting up and the cleaning up as needed, which was very awesome. She also rummaged around in the school's kitchen and came up with various bowls and utensils that hadn't occurred to me that we'd need for the lunch. From what I hear, the lunch was a success and the teachers and staff enjoyed it, which is very, very good to hear. They all worked so hard this year and did such a phenomenal job that I wanted to be sure this luncheon was a nice treat for everyone involved in the classrooms. I also had a licensed massage therapist come and do chair massages for anyone who wanted one, but more on her later...

Monday afternoon was the kiddo's first gymnastics class. Well, not actually her very first - we tried gymnastics classes once before when the kiddo had just turned three. That time was a raging, flaming disaster. She made it - and by "made it" I mean "was physically present in the gym" and not much more in terms of actual gymnastics study - through two classes that time around and I pulled her from the class. That was mere weeks before she was evaluated and we learned about SPD. In retrospect, don't know what the hey I was thinking signing her up for gymnastics back then. Actually, I do know what I was thinking. We'd done Gymboree for a long time and the kiddo loved all the climbing on things and physical, gym-type activity, so gymnastics seemed a logical progression. Unfortunately, it was too much for our sensory seeker to handle, as she got way overstimulated and couldn't control herself - she literally couldn't sit still, much less listen to or follow any instructions.

But we are two years older and wiser now, and the kiddo has almost two years of OT and PT under her belt now as well, so when she asked - begged, really - to try gymnastics (after spending countless minutes transfixed in the doorway of the gym on our way to or from the pool for swimming lessons, watching the gymnastics practice in progress with a passionate longing in her eyes), I agreed. With some modicum of caution - I didn't buy her the leotard I was fondling at Target (yet) and instead sent her in shorts and a tank top to the first class. Well, I'm so happy to say that she was a champ! She listened to the instructors, sat mostly still (at the least, she didn't wiggle around any more than any of the other gajillion kids in her class) and consistently managed to wait her turn without cutting in front of any other kid. For a whole hour! Woo! She also made her best attempt to do each thing they were being taught - for an hour. Woo woo woo! And, if I may brag for a moment (though it's not just my bias; other moms sitting along the wall said so as well) the kiddo was the Best Somersaulter of the whole class. She could be the next Nadia Comaneci! (Okay, I just did that "classic" example on purpose, to go with Mario. I can totally be more current when it comes to gymnastics. Mary Lou Retton! No? Shoot. Um, Dominique Dawes! She was on the Olympic team in Atlanta... ooh Carly Patterson, I think she was from '04... There ya go, from this century! I can be current!)

Tuesday was the kiddo's last official day of preschool, which was followed by an afternoon at our local zoo. We hadn't been to the zoo since April, and there were a few new things open since our last visit. The most exciting of these was a frog exhibit (dude, I am totally serious: you must check out the Vietnamese Mossy Frog - way, way cool) and the new baboon exhibit. While those baboons can get quite x-rated (and a few did, though thankfully the kiddo's attention was elsewhere so no need for an uncomfortable, public Q&A session), there also were several juvenile baboons who were clowning around and being quite heeelarious. At one point, two of the younger baboons came right up to the kiddo and attempted to swipe her lion, Ectobert, right through the glass. (We generally are accompanied wherever we go by at least one member of the kiddo's stuffed animal menagerie - that's just how we roll. Ectobert also visited Disney World with us last November, though Terry the Triceratops was the one who got to visit Dinosaur World in Tampa and Joey the Giraffe went to the Lowry Park Zoo on that same trip.)



Wednesday was the kiddo's preschool graduation. It was a Very Big Deal, held in the decked-out-for-the-event auditorium and complete with a slide show (which elicited many an awwww), caps, gowns and a processional by the class to the strains of Pomp and Circumstance. The parents were worse than any swarm of paparazzi, but isn't what the event truly was about? It was positively lethally adorable from beginning to end, including the songs (complete with hand signs), the receiving of diplomas (though the kiddo was far more interested in the ice-cream cone shaped bottle of bubbles that was also in the bag) to the semi-unison bow at the end. This was followed by a reception featuring many delicious treats and therefore much sugar consumption (specifically in the form of heavily-frosted-in-neon-blue cupcakes - the kiddo has issues with highly processed foods and certain food dyes, so this was not good), which was followed by a rather hellacious afternoon of the kiddo being way out of whack and wired, falling asleep in the car which is highly unusual, and culminating in the week's darkest point when the kiddo got not one, not two, but three nasty, large splinters in her one foot from walking on the deck barefoot. (Hubby blames me squarely for the splinters, as we had learned back when the kiddo was a newly-walking babe not to let her be on the deck barefoot as splinters will ensue, but yesterday I didn't make her re-shoe after playing in the grass with some water balloons...) The three nasty splinters led to more than an hour and a half of serious freaking out during their attempted removal. It took a combination of Grandma, Mommy and then Daddy (who arrived home from work to the screams and squalls of the freak-out at about its one hour mark) to get the splinters out. I'm a bit surprised that emergency vehicles didn't come screeching up to the house, as we had all the windows open and she was howling loudly enough to make it sound like we were doing far more sinister things than attemped splinter removal. Thank goodness they eventually came out and the judicious application of many Curious George, Disney Princess and rainbow band-aids aided in calming and a return to peace and relative quiet.

Today, my mom treated me (and herself) to a massage at my favorite massage place on Earth, which coincidentally happens to be owned by a friend and former colleague of mine. Oh heck, it's my blog, I'm gonna plug it: Retreat House Massage and Wellness Center - if you're in town, check them out. Tell Joan that Heather sent you! After my hour on Joan's table was up, I was my usual post-massage limp noodle self. Deeeelightful, especially after the residual tension from Operation Splinter Extraction 2008. I am a total massage junkie, and if we ever became indecently wealthy, I would most definitely have massages as part of my regular weekly schedule. Weekly? Perhaps daily, even! Since we are nowhere near indecently wealthy now, I'm trying to train the kiddo to become a champion back scratcher, but so far, results are fair to middling at best...

Another potentially dark moment for the week - on our way home this afternoon (after depositing Grandma on a train back home), the low tire pressure light came on in the Sienna. I pulled over as soon as I could and inspected the tires for signs of an obvious flat. There weren't any, though I thought three of the four tires felt a bit squishy. It seemed safe enough that I continued home, where I left the van in the driveway for Hubby to inspect when he got home from work. He came to the same conclusion - it could be any one up to all three of four of the tires. His solution is to wait and see whether one starts looking noticeably flatter, at which point he'll replace it with the spare (which is a full-sized tire) and we can take the flat in for repair/replacement. Thank goodness for lifetime tire warranties! I'm not quite as psyched about this plan as Hubby seems to be, but the kiddo and I have no pressing plans for tomorrow so if we wind up stuck home with a flat (Mommy doesn't change minivan tires. Daddy has and will again soon, I suspect - that low tire pressure light has yet to be mistaken.) it isn't a big deal. I will not have the effects of my massage ruined by flat tire stress!! There is a lot of road construction going on around town, and we were driving through/by a lot of it, so who knows what I inadvertently picked up in my tire(s) while out and about today... Stay tuned!

Lastly, before I head downstairs to help rid the fridge of some of the array of leftovers we acquired over the past several days, I wanted to show off these:



Woo! Hummingbird! Captured on film! Er, not film, actually - um, captured in pixels? Okay, how about captured on camera! Yay! This particular hummingbird has been hanging around the feeder for the past week, and in between drinks, he (she?) hangs out on this one particular branch in the same tree. Could we have a hummingbird nest in our future? Fingers crossed!

Finch Finale

I hadn't noticed Mama bird on/near her nest in the past two days, which was highly unusual. When looking out the window closest to the basket, I'd been able to see not only Mama and Papa coming and going, but also the babies who were big enough to be seen above the edge of the nest. I was growing concerned that perhaps the babies had been abandoned, so I finally took the basket down to check on what was happening.

Oh no! Empty nest syndrome!

Hubby and I were concerned that the fledglings had met some grim end, but we googled house finches and learned that babies typically leave the nest between 12 and 19 days. So, it is quite possible that they simply flew away. We also read that the young finches tend to flock together and feed together, and there certainly was a crowd of finches at the feeder on the porch, so I'm going to keep stocking that feeder for the babies or any other finches that may drop by. I'm also leaving the nest in the basket for another week or so, just in case they return to it for a snooze or something. Apparently house finches will lay up to six separate clutches of eggs in brooding season, but they build new nests for each one, so Mama and Papa will not be back for another round in the petunia basket.

(By the by, while doing my best Grissom impression and searching the vicinity for evidence that some criminal end had befallen the baby birds, I did come across the corpse of the baby sparrow in a rather advanced state of decomp. Ew. I do much better with grisly findings when they're contained within the parameters of my TV set!)

So, it seems we're through with Finch Watch 2008. I'm keeping my eyes peeled for any other nesting situations in our yard - I would totally love to discover a hummingbird nest but the hummingbirds that frequent our feeder always seem to arrive from and depart to parts unknown beyond our back yard fence, so I'm not too confident that there are any hummingbird nests to be found. In the meantime, we've identified many species of birds that flock to our feeders (and who are now emptying all of the feeders in 24 hours or less) and have learned that we have brown-headed cowbirds, goldfinches and what I think was a towhee along with the birds I already could identify - robins, mourning doves (one of whom who had foiled my berry patch netting and was moseying around inside the patch the other day, grrr), red-winged blackbirds and one blue jay. The kiddo has been listening to the bird calls that came with the guidebook in her room, which is a bit disconcerting at times when all of a sudden you hear, say, a screech owl cry that sounds like it is inside the house... Better that, though, than to be listening to the CD in our car, which we did the other day. Nothing can make a short trip longer than 587 bird calls chirping away inside the van, let me tell you!

Eating like a bird?! Ha!

We've had bird feeders in our yard for several years now. We started with just one, and this year are up to three (not counting the occasional peanut butter-pine cone type feeder the kiddo makes and brings home from school), as well as a hummingbird feeder.

Let me tell you, that expression "S/he eats like a bird" is not exactly accurate, at least not around our house. We have been going through more birdseed than I could ever have imagined, and I don't even keep the feeders constantly full. Seriously, I just finished off a 25 lb bag of seed that Hubby bought last month. That's a lot of seed. We don't have squirrels or other non-bird type feeder raiders, by the way - in the 8.5 years we've lived here, I've never seen a single squirrel or chipmunk anywhere in the neighborhood. I think the lack of utility poles and the small number of trees has something to do with that...

We have a lot of different birds that frequent the backyard feeders, everything from itty-bitty sparrows up to big, fat mourning doves. (The mourning doves are extremely lazy - they will sit on the ground under the feeders and wait for a more enterprising bird to tip some seed out from above, then eat off the ground.) I've seen cardinals and goldfinches and we have blackbirds by the piefull. We also have loads of robins, and since I put up the third feeder on the front porch for the petunia basket family, we are positively lousy with finches, too.

As I was out refilling the feeders just now, I could hear bird calls picking up and getting more excited and loud. (Yes, I may be anthropomorphizing here, but I swear I'm not exaggerating.) It sounded for all the world like some birdfeeder scout was alerting the copse behind our property "She's finally refilled the feeders - chow time, y'all!" Sure enough, within five minutes of my returning indoors, the back yard is full of birds, in our two pear trees and all over the ground. Makes me extra-glad we covered the berry patch!

The hummingbird feeder is especially exciting to me. I never get tired of watching the hummingbirds come in for a drink of nectar (I make my own) and then dart away again over our fence. Some of them are smaller than large dragonflies and others are quite big. According to the hummingbird websites I've checked, we don't have many varieties in our neck of the woods, but I've seen a few that don't look like regulars for area every now and again. If we lived somewhere further south, where they get the more exotic varieties of hummingbirds, I might never leave my back yard or my window! I've been trying in vain to photograph the hummingbirds at the feeder for years now. If I had a fancier camera, like the one my dad has with the multiple shutter speeds and especially the crazy zoom lens (I'm pretty sure he could get a picture of our hummingbird feeder from an upstairs window from the farm in NJ), I would likely be more successful. Well, it's something to keep me busy, stalking the feeder with my base model camera at the ready.

Speaking of photographing birds, I finally managed to get a relatively clear shot of Mama Finch on her nest through the front window yesterday. The basket was swaying in the wind (we had some severe storms blow through and the wind was no gentle summer breeze!) so it isn't the sharpest photo, but I think you can see Mama clearly enough...

With said storms, I did take the baskets off the hooks for a bit so they wouldn't blow away during the worst of the wind. To my surprise, I realized I was wrong when I said there were only four babies in the nest - number five is there, albeit a lot smaller than his/her siblings! Woo! All five finches made it!

By the way, are these bird-related posts really boring? Am I driving readers away from my blog with the incessant bird chatter? Hmmm. I just find the whole thing kinda fascinating, as evidenced by my continued posting. Hopefully someone out there is as interested as I am in the topic...

Lazy Sunday

First of all, if this post's title made Chris Parnell and Andy Samberg's SNL digital short run through your head, welcome to my brain. (The Chronic what? Cles of Narnia!) I've loved that clip since its original airing...

We've had a lazy Sunday here this year for Father's Day. I asked Hubby what he wanted to do today and his (somewhat tongue-in-cheek) response was "Breakfast. Nap. Lunch. Nap. Watch golf. Eat dinner. Watch more golf. Sleep." Well, the only Smiths that napped today turned out to be the cat (as per usual) and the kiddo, which was unusual but she's running a fever today, due, I think, to the four booster shots she had late Friday afternoon (quadruple OUCH but at least we're done with vaccines now until middle school). At least I'm hoping that's all that is causing it - she is asymptomatic otherwise, and certainly perked up following the nap, lunch, a popsicle from the ice cream truck, a water balloon toss with Mommy while Daddy practiced putting in the back yard and relaxing inside in the AC.

Speaking of AC, the AC still isn't fixed in the Sienna. Yes, argh to the tenth degree. Apparently there was a second part they didn't expect would need replacing, but it does, and they didn't have that part on hand, so it's now been ordered and we have an appointment to bring the Sienna back in again on Friday. That means another week of driving the kiddo back and forth to preschool (about 20-25 minutes each way) without AC. The good news is that the weather isn't supposed to be so stinkin' hot this week. The bad news is that the forecast is calling for rain every day this week, so we may not be able to cruise around with the windows open as we have been. Let's hope that Friday does the trick and the van is fixed once and for all!!

So anyhow, back to our day today. The kiddo woke up at four this morning, but went back to bed with a little coaxing before getting up for real at six. I got up with her so Hubby could sleep in, which he did until about 7:30. (Sadly, that counts as sleeping late in this house. Pathetic - I recall when "sleeping late" meant not being awake before noon...) Hubby actually requested ties for Father's Day, and the kiddo and I duly obliged and got him three new ones for his collection. The kiddo has surprisingly good taste in tie selection, and Hubby has received more compliments on ties that were her choices than any other. I have to give myself a wee bit of credit in this department too, though, as the one who will gently influence her choices as well as having the final say in which get purchased. This mainly comes into play when the kiddo spots a novelty tie - any novelty tie - because she has a mad, crazy passion for them. She will beg and plead and insist that Daddy would LOVE that one - the day-glo baby blue one with the flamingos and palm trees, or the one with giant lipstick smooches like Rocky Horror meets the Mary Kay lady, basically the tackier and louder the tie is, the more she thinks Daddy MUST have it. This time around, I had to dissuade her from picking the blue tie with the pink shirted, green shorts-ed lady golfers teeing off all over it. "But Daddy LOVES golf, Mommy!" Yes, true enough, and yet that isn't a tie that Daddy would ever wear in public, so it remained on the rack for some other dad's neck. (If it had been cheaper, say $5 or so, I would've gotten it - in part as payback for the Grandma Mother's Day card he let the kiddo pick out for me - but it was only marked down to $13 so no dice.) I think the kiddo would've loved growing up in the heinous, preppy fashion era of the 80s. I recall some horrible clothing, covered with worse patterns than any novelty tie, that people wore intentionally and with a straight face. My former school headmaster had a few pairs of cords covered with things like lobsters and tennis rackets that he'd frequently wear, not to mention madras slacks and pastel sweaters, and no one batted an eye. The kiddo would've LOVED those pants, as well as the wrap-around skirt I had back in seventh grade that was covered in (I kid you not) frogs.

The only thing we actually accomplished today as far as any work goes was to put up the netting that will hopefully keep the birdies away from the berries in our berry patch. Last year the netting was quite successful, but it was a ginormous PITA of a project. I put it up and removed it by myself and swore that next year, I'd get Hubby to help. So, he did, and thank goodness. When I say "ginormous PITA" I am vastly understating. That netting, yeesh, it is clingy and folds back on itself and gets tangled and can't be spread out.... essentially it is not a job for one person. Between the two of us and a few muttered curse words (the kiddo was safely out of ear's reach in the house), we hung it up in a way that I hope will make it easier for us humans to access the berries while keeping the birds out, and not get all tangled in the branches and brambles, which happened last year. The raspberries, blueberries and blackberries all look really promising in terms of buds and fruit, and while it was a bumper crop for my strawberry plants, they once again were itty bitty - hardly more than the size of a large raisin - so I left them on the plants as they ripened for the birds to eat. Which they did, with nary a "thank you" beyond a liberal splashing of bird poop along the edge of the fence in the corner where the berry patch resides.

In nesting news, all the finch babies are hatched and the end number is four. I don't know if the last egg was a dud, but when I took pictures the other day, there was still an egg left to hatch, then the next time we checked, no egg and no baby. The four that have made it seem to be healthy and thriving - they're already big enough that we can see their little beaks pointing up over the edge of the nest when looking from the window. Very cool. Mama Finch finally discovered the bird feeder I'd placed on the corner of the porch, right near her nest, and has invited every other finch in the area to join her. I counted fifteen finches (all female) on the porch and in the bushes around the porch when I peeked out the window earlier today. Finchtastic!



So, hopefully everyone out there had an equally relaxing Sunday and to all the dads out there (including my own and my hubby) - HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!!

Baby birdie and busted AC update

The presumptive sparrow baby is no longer in the nest, so I guess I was right on his status, sadly enough. (Special thanks to Mama Finch for disposing of the corpse someplace out of sight and not just kicking it to the floor of the porch for me to find.) There is a newly hatched baby finch alongside the one that hatched yesterday, so total nest count at this point is two baby finches and three eggs yet to hatch.

Also, the problem with the Sienna's AC seems to be actually related to the work they did on it the last time. Then, they'd said the problem was one of two things (or possibly both) and at their suggestion, we had them do the lesser of the two fixes and hoped that would take care of it. Since it was the larger, more complicated and expensive issue, they are going to credit the work they did last time towards this fix, which knocks a good bit off of the still-costly bill, but they think this will take care of it once and for all. (As it should since we've now replaced just about the entire AC system...) The bad news is that they don't have the part they need on hand so we'll have to do the complicated Drop Off the Van routine again either on Friday or Saturday. The mechanic did say that he thinks we should have a few more good, problem-free years at least left on the van, given the state of everything else in it and the shape it's in, now that the AC issue will be resolved. Hope he's right!!

Eggstra, Eggstra! Read all about it!

(Wow, the eggciting terms just keep on coming. Hee!)

First, the good news - another baby birdie has hatched in the nest! The new finch baby is a lot smaller than the presumptive sparrow, as one might expect given the difference in egg sizes.



Now, the bad news - it doesn't appear that the baby sparrow has survived. It looked quite still and as though it was not breathing when I took the baskets down as they were being blown almost perpendicular in yesterday's thunderstorms. (I continue to try to disturb the nest as little as possible, so I do not touch the actual nest and am going only on brief, visual observation here.) Mama finch is still tending to/sitting on the nest, so I don't think it is a case of abandonment. Hubby speculates that perhaps once the baby finch appeared, Mama figured out the first baby was not one of hers and stopped caring for it. Who knows? (Probably some ornithologist, but we're certainly not bird experts.) All I know is, I hope that I am wrong and the sparrow chick is still alive, but if it is dead, I hope Mama finch removes it from the nest and not just to the porch floor, as happened last year. (Ick.) So, that's two eggs down, four to go!

(Side note: it cooled down during the storm front yesterday, which enabled me to turn off the central air and open the windows to air out the house. Papa Finch was most displeased with his apparently new found awareness of our cat, who had immediately planted herself in an opened upstairs window - not the window nearest the petunia baskets, mind you. He perched on the roof about 3 feet away from where she was sunning herself and minding her own business and cheeped at her quite angrily. She looked at me with this "Huh?!? What did I do?" expression and after a few more minutes of him cheeping, she hopped down out of the windowsill and stalked off into the back of the house, away from Papa finch. After she left the window, he stopped cheeping and flew away.)

(egg) Breaking News!!!

I just took down the petunia baskets to water them, as they're quite droopy between the sun and the brisk, hot breeze, and look who decided to pop out:



This is the baby out of the presumptive sparrow egg, (as you can see) the five matching, smaller eggs are still intact. Mama Finch was super ticked at my disruption of her motherly duties - I watered as fast (yet carefully) as I could and rehung the basket while she cheeped and cheeped at me. She went back to the nest as soon as I'd closed the front door behind me. I'm guessing we'll have more babies in the next couple of days, as the egg that hatched today wasn't the first one laid. Woo-hoo! (Also, I haven't seen the sparrow hanging around in the past couple of days, either in the front near the nest or in the back yard, where this year's birdfeeder frequenters are eating us out of house and home, or at least out of gigantic bags of seed.)

In other nature and wildlife-related news, yesterday after church I was mowing the lawn when, in the back yard along the back of the kiddo's sandbox, I came across this:



It's about two feet long, and isn't a complete specimen. I skeeved Hubby out by picking it up with my bare hands and bringing it inside to show him and the kiddo. (The kiddo who promptly requested to bring it in to school today to show to her class, which she did with great excitement this morning.) Once it was safely contained in a gallon-sized baggie and my hands had been thoroughly washed, Hubby was more inclined to inspect the snake skin. Now, we've only ever seen garter snakes around our little piece o' property, and the largest of those that we've ever spotted was maybe a foot long. Neither of us believe this came from a garter snake, and I have no idea what kind of snake it belonged to before it was shed. Here's a close-up of the skin in case there are any herpetology enthusiasts out there who might be able to identify it.




I was thinking of taking it (with the kiddo) to the zoo and seeing if anyone there might know, but with the AC issue (as described in painful detail in my previous post) I didn't want to do any extra driving today. Let's hope that whatever type of snake it is, its diet consists primarily of many, many voles and that if so, s/he sticks around for the rest of the summer. It'd be awfully nice to be vole-free, especially without having to resort to placing boxes of rodent poison way under the deck (well out of any human or feline's reach) as we've had to do a few times in previous years when the vole infestation has been particularly prolific.

We're positively brimming with wildlife 'round here! Between the birdies, the snake, the toad I almost ran over with the mower, Bunny Foo-Foo (who has munched a good portion of this year's food garden, now replanted and surrounded by organic Keep-Bunny-Away granules), the vole community under the deck and the geese, ducks, herons, deer, muskrats and what appears to be a beaver family in the pond out behind our back yard, well, call up the ghost of Marlin Perkins and have him bring a camera crew on over!

Slip 'n Sliding away

It was hot here today. Really, really hot. Also really, really humid. These two factors combine to affect the Smith Chicks' hair in very different ways. When it is the least bit humid out, the kiddo's hair goes into these ringlet curls - the same curls I have actually paid hair stylists to put in for fancy updo styles, you know, those delicate, curly tendrils that frame one's face oh-so-romantically - and it is absolutely adorable on her. Me, on the other hand? All the humidity and heat do to my Wolverine van Beethoven (now slightly longer but still very, very layered and not nearly long enough to be out of the awkward stage) is make it even larger and more feathered. I guess it is now less Wolverine van Beethoven than Wolverine Fawcett, because it is trying like heck to feather itself all over my head.


Proof right here: (and kindly ignore the glistening and pink cheeks; it was hot and I'd just come in from the gym...)



Yes, you can take the girl out of Jersey, but you'll never take the Jersey out of her hair! I spent a good 20 minutes after my post-gym shower wielding spray gel, "texturizing" spray, anti-frizz goop and hairspray to get the volume to come down on top of my head. Also to get it to come in somewhat on the sides. A daunting task - it made me actually ponder buying a flat iron, but my forehead and ears remember all too well the burns left upon them back in the Scary Curling Iron days of my youth (when you'd fill the barrels with water, then push the end as you were curling so steam would come out, remember? Water + electricity + very close proximity to one's head = brilliant plan...) and so I think I'm going to tough it out a little longer. It can't stay this length forever, right?


So anyhow, it was hot today. The kiddo is mostly recovered from her pneumonia (we saw the doctor this afternoon, who said her lungs are sounding pretty good. Go Zithromax! Woot!) and was feeling antsy after spending most of the week in a very low-key, recovering-from-pneumonia manner. It seemed a fitting time, therefore, to break out one of her recently received birthday presents - a Slip 'n Slide. Now, when I was a kid, we never had a Slip 'n Slide. I didn't even have any friends who owned a Slip 'n Slide, so I never in my life have slipped 'n slid. It was always something that looked like sooooo much fun that I think a little piece of me always felt like my summers were never complete for not having had the Slip 'n Slide experience. Hubby reports the same, sad childhood tale of being utterly deprived of ever having played on a Slip 'n Slide, so the kiddo is the first member of our immediate family to be lucky enough to do so, and on one of her very own to boot! She was begging both of us to go with her, but the very scary warning printed right at the start of the plastic convinced any part of me that was still longing to try it, even just once, that I'm about 30 years too late (and several pounds too heavy) for that. Bummer.


Now, it seems from our (admittedly hazy) recollections from back in the day that the Slip 'n Slide engineering has greatly improved over the decades. What Hubby and I recall was little more than a long strip of plastic that those fortunate children who owned one would complain about tearing and getting punctured very easily. Now, it has a bumper-surrounded catching area at the end, as well as a row of pretty serious sprinklers down the side (which we didn't remember being a feature back in the 70s, but may've in fact been. Like I said, we were both deprived. I seem to remember it just being wet by the hose, but no arcing sprinkler action.)

While I was inside liberally slathering sunscreen on the kiddo, Hubby set up the Slip 'n Slide, angling it along the natural slope of our back yard and checking the underside area for sharp and/or pointy things. As our grass is presently in need of a trim, I think there was more cushioning than there otherwise might've been between the plastic and our hard, hard clay soil, so not a bad thing. Having it head downhill also helped improve the kiddo's sliding potential, of course. She couldn't wait to get sliding. Unfortunately, she really didn't want to attempt a running leap-belly flop combination (as we remember from the TV commercials of our youth), so she mostly just got a running start several yards back on the lawn, then continued running once she reached the plastic until she lost her footing and then slid the rest of the way on her behind/back. This was rather hilarious to watch (as evidenced by my giggling and inability to speak in a normal tone of voice from said giggling while trying out our new video camera) and didn't deter her from repeatedly doing the "run until she fell" maneuver, despite a few rather hard landings. I have a feeling she's going to have a sore behind in the morning...


The biggest downside to any water-related activity in our back yard is the lack of hot water capability. I suppose we could run the hose into the house through the window above the kitchen sink and hook it up to some warmer water courtesy of the kitchen tap, but we never have. Every pool, sprinkler and now Slip 'n Slide we've done has featured icy cold water straight from the outside faucet. This means that despite the great amounts of fun one is having and the incredible heat one may be outdoors in at the time, one's teeth eventually start chattering and one's Mean Mommy pulls the plug on the activity in favor of drying off and warming up. This is especially the case when one is recovering from pneumonia, so the Slip 'n Sliding was cut shorter than the kiddo may've liked. Good thing we're heading to the water park tomorrow, which is set to be another scorchingly hot and humid day!


(Oh, a quick petunia basket nest update: Mama Finch is still sitting on the nest, which still features 6 unhatched eggs, which as of this morning's plant watering were all standing on end. Do eggs turn upright as the baby is getting ready to hatch all on their own? Does the mama bird turn them? Will we have baby birdies soon? Stay tuned......)

(Oh, and a PPS - don't know if anyone noticed or not, but I'm not wearing my glasses in the picture above because I was wearing contacts today. Woo! Contacts! My "one month per eye" supply came in yesterday, and now I'm going to have to begin seriously exercising the restraint I promised myself I would in order to make that "one month" stretch out to three or four months, at least. It is too darn expensive to wear contacts every day at the price I have to pay for these. Though I will wear them tomorrow, since we're going to the amusement park......)

(Last PS for this post, I swear. I just spellchecked, as I somehow have a mental block on how to spell the word exercise - oh, the irony - and the spell check indicated that "scorchingly" is not a word. It gave me the option of "scorching" instead, which has me wondering - why isn't "scorchingly" a word? Is it a word and blogger spell check just doesn't get it? Hmmm.)

As the petunia basket turns...

Okay, I spent a lot of time yesterday afternoon stalking and trying to get a picture of Mama bird, and I am now certain that the sparrow I caught at the bird feeder is not the bird that is sitting on the nest.

Unfortunately, this is the best shot I could get of Mama on the nest. I had to take it from inside the house with the window closed, because if I do anything else, even just try to photograph her through the open window, she flies away and gets really irked - cheeping and cheeping from what she deems a safe distance. Apparently Mama bird isn't yet ready for her close-up...




If I had CSI or Law & Order technology, I could put that shot into some computer program and with a few keystrokes, be able to "enhance" it to the point where we could see every detail of her smallest feather and probably even do a DNA analysis, but I am a mere mortal with a not-terribly-fancy digital camera and not-very-advanced PhotoShop skills. I also tried to catch a shot of Mama bird after she had flown away and landed on the neighbor's roof:





Based on these two pictures and the fact that Papa bird defintely resembles the house finch picture I found online, I'm feeling pretty sure that (a) the Mama and Papa are both house finches - though that one, larger egg doesn't appear to be (see Nora's comments in the post below, and thanks Nora for your sleuthing!) and (b) at this point, the house finches are still in control of the nest. I have noticed sparrows in the general area, and given last year's similar egg configuration in the nest, I'm guessing that the bad end to the baby birdies last year was due to the sparrow ultimately taking over the nest. Evil sparrow.

We're not going anywhere today as the kiddo has brewed up her first batch of 5 year old germies (nasty, wet cough, Niagara Falls nostrils and most worryingly, a fever of almost 103 this morning) unless we head over to the pediatrician for a "listen to the lungs" check, and it is pouring rain out, so I'm guessing Mama bird will stick close to the nest. I am going to try to get a better picture of her, and if I do, I'll post it. Also, if the weather worsens, I'll have to take down the baskets (so they don't blow over) and if I do, I'll take a picture of any egg-hatching developments. I didn't take the basket down yesterday as I'm trying to disturb it as little as possible. Stay tuned for further chapters of As the Petunia Basket Turns...........

Eggciting update...

The petunia basket nest is up to SIX eggs!

I've been trying to surreptitiously snap a photo of Mama Bird on her nest, but she is awfully camera-shy. I did, however, get this shot of her (from a distance and stretching the zoom function of my digital camera to its maximum capability) as she dined at one of our backyard feeders. Well, I'm 99.9% certain it is Mama Bird - she flew out of the basket and over the house, and I raced back there to find this one bird stopping at the feeder.

Do the bird-expert blog readers out there still think this is a house finch family, based upon the pics of the nest and the presumed Mama Bird? Anyone? Bueller? I just wonder at the one, much larger egg in the nest with all the other smaller, more uniform-looking eggs...

I think we have a winner!

I believe Diane is correct in her comment on my previous birdtastic post! I just googled House Finches and here's what Cornell's Ornithology Department page about them says:

"A bright red and brown-striped bird of the cities and suburbs, the House Finch comes readily to feeders. It also breeds in close association with people, and often chooses a hanging plant in which to put its nest."

Now, the pictures on the page aren't an exact match for the birds as I've observed them through the window, but certainly are close enough, as are the eggs. So, unless someone can definitively state otherwise, House Finches they are!

Thanks, Diane!

For the birds

Every spring, I hang baskets of petunias on our front porch. Last year, some of the local wildlife took an interest, as I discovered when I took the baskets down for their watering one afternoon and found a bird's nest nestled among the petunias. The kiddo and I watched as eventually, three eggs were laid in the nest, then one was pushed out and broke on the porch floor, then another egg replaced it. There was a lot of commotion in and around the basket and porch roof, which we tried to spy upon from inside the house as much as we could. Eventually, the three eggs hatched and there were three baby birds, much to our delight. Unfortunately, when the babies were in their second year of life, we came home from a road trip to discover them all dead (and icky). We don't know what transpired, as we were away, but it was a sad ending. (I will confess that I did not use the babies' demise as a teaching moment in the "circle of life" theme with the kiddo, then aged just 4. I lied and told her the babies must've flown away. Bad mommy, I know.)

I tried very hard not to disturb the nest last year. I'd only take the basket down when necessary for watering, and I took great care to water around the nest and leave it undisturbed. The mama bird came and went throughout that period, so I don't think she abandoned the eggs/babies because of human interference, especially since the babies "flew away" while we were out of town.

Well, Mother's Day weekend I bought my petunia baskets and hung them up once again. This past Sunday, I took the baskets down to water them and found a nest in the same basket! There were no eggs in it at that point, but when I took the baskets down this afternoon for watering, look at what I found:


I also tried to snap a picture of the mama and daddy bird, who perched on the next-door neighbors' roof and were cheeping ferociously at me until I re-hung the basket and went back inside.


Does anyone out there know what the heck kind of birds these are? I tried to figure it out online last year, but didn't come up with anything definitive. They frequent our backyard bird feeders, and I'm almost 100% positive they're the same birds from last year. The eggs are also the same - two smaller, less speckly ones and one much larger, super-speckled egg. Last year, we were guessing that some type of usurper bird was trying to horn in on the nest with her egg (in a cuckoo bird sort of way) and that was the cause of all the ruckus we'd hear out on the porch, the birds fighting over the nest. But a second year in a row? Hmmm, now we're not so sure. Hubby suggested that perhaps the majority of mama bird's egg-creating energy went into the big egg, and the others were sort of "runts of the litter" - or would that be a clutch? Anyhow, we'll now be monitoring this year's nest situation, once again as unobtrusively as possible (I will not sacrifice my flowers for the nest, so I will continue to water around it) and hopefully this year's eggies turn into birdies that actually do fly away this summer!

Crocipetti!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (tm the Beat Cats)

Woo-hooooo! This morning when I walked the perimeter of the house where I'd planted over a hundred crocus bulbs a few years ago, I saw nothing that even vaguely resembled a crocus leaf popping up through the mulch. BUT.... when I got home this afternoon, what caught my eye? Check it out!

Yes, that's right - THREE crocus flowers* right around the front step, plus a few other green leaves that look quite crocusy in biology. Add that to the return of our local heron (aka the pteradactyl - you should hear this thing fly over our back yard with his giant, whoomp-whoomp-whoomping wings) to the pond behind our house and the mourning doves who have once again staked out a spot under one of our pear trees (note to self: buy birdseed for the feeder) and it is undeniable, forecast or not: Spring has sprung!

* did you see how I avoided pluralizing crocus so cleverly there? A group of my friends and I decided a few years back that we are going to call multiple crocus flowers crocipetti. So, there you have it... though one of these days, I really ought to investigate what the actual pluralization is for crocus....