Rosings Park

There are 109 posts filed in Rosings Park (this is page 10 of 11).

Noisy Fourth

We didn’t know when we moved to Oak Grove that we were moving to a fireworks-crazed neighborhood. When we lived in Salem, we’d hear occasional fireworks around Independence Day. When we lived in Canby — both the north side of town and the south side of town — our neighbors set off fireworks on the fourth, but in retrospect, they were just playing around.

Now the folks in Oak Grove: they set off fireworks. Lots of them.

For days leading up to Independence Day, there are scattered explosions. On the third, there’s a sort of preview of what it is to come. This preview is loud enough that it kept us from falling asleep Sunday night.

But it was nothing compared to tonight.

From nine to midnight, we’ve been treated to a constant barrage of pyrotechnics. Sitting in bed, trying to fall asleep, it sounds something like this (62 sec. mp3 — listen for the jingle of a frightened Toto’s collar about twenty seconds in). Only louder. (My iBook’s speakers do a poor job of recording.) Imagine three hours of that while you’re trying to fall asleep.

It’s like a war zone.

Kris worked a normal day today. I slept in. Or tried to. “Good luck,” she said as she left. “I’ll bet the cats or the birds or the squirrels will wake you up soon.”

Sure enough, it wasn’t ten minutes until there was some sort of crow war (20 sec. mp3) occurring in the walnut outside the bedroom window. That sound clip only captures the end of the fight, when a clear victor had emerged.

So, between the crows and the fireworks, I didn’t get much sleep today.

We spent Saturday evening with the Gingeriches and the Proffit-Smiths, enjoying Jeremy and Jennifer’s newly-completed patio.

We didn’t have sparklers, but kids had fun anyhow. I took photos of them brandishing their brands. (Heh.)

  

Not as professional as adults drawing with sparklers, but fun nonetheless.

One of the fundamental rules of photography is “Only Show Your Best Work”. It’s a difficult rule to follow. I break it unintentionally all the time. Sometimes, though, it’s fun to show the crappy stuff.

I took the following photo of Emma the other night, and I think it makes her look remarkably like a child zombie, fresh guts smeared across her face. (The guts are actually s’mores.) The very next photo I took was this one of Hank, looking remarkably like a boy afraid of his zombie sister.

  

Next: the bathroom remodel begins!

Comments

On 05 July 2005 (12:30 PM),
Tiffany said:

Poor Toto!

I am lucky; where I am there are no private fireworks allowed. There are some nice professional displays, but not close enough to bother my sleep. At least it is only once a year. Is New Year’s Eve a problem?



On 05 July 2005 (02:25 PM),
Amy Jo said:

Our NoPo neighborhood is also full of fireworks-crazed people. Fireworks-crazed people who purchase illegal fireworks. We had quite the show. They started about 8 pm and it was well past midnight when they ended. The neighbors directly to the south of us started lighting them after midnight and they were loud and obnoxious. Both Ruby and Hanna crawled into bed with us . . . Something else woke me at 3:30 and it took me nearly an hour to fall back asleep and then the animals began their morning “get the people out of bed” routine around 6:30 so, I too am feeling sleepy today.



On 05 July 2005 (09:51 PM),
J.D. said:

“I can’t believe it,” Kris just said to me.

“What?” I said.

“The firecrackers!”

They started about fifteen minutes ago. They’re not nearly as loud as last night of course, but I expect they’ll last a while yet. They did last July 5th. And 6th. And 7th…



On 05 July 2005 (09:54 PM),
J.D. said:

Also, I forgot to mention in that last comment that we came home tonight to find a dead crow in the middle of the road by the mailbox. It looks like it died in flight: wings spread, etc.

Either the West Nile Virus has reached the Willamette Valley, or the aforementioned crow war turned deadly…



On 05 July 2005 (10:15 PM),
Cat said:

Being new to the ‘burbs, we were *astonished* this year at the volume of fireworks, starting on Friday evening. Luckily, we were up anyway. As new homeowners, it left me worrying for our roof. I don’t mind if you blow you’re own bloody hands off, but don’t burn down the neighborhood!

But whadd’ya gonna do, nuke Washington for selling what Oregon won’t?

Maybe.

Three Cats and a Squirrel

After I finished mowing the lawn this morning, I had a spare half hour before meeting Mitch for lunch. The sky was lightly overcast and the temperature perfect, so I sat on the lawn with Nemo.

Nemo was only dimly aware of me, though. He was more interested in the squirrel in the walnut tree. The squirrel — a female with several swollen teats (meaning we have baby squirrels around here somewhere) — brazenly descended to the feeding basket.

Pumpkin seeds are a strong attractant for squirrels.

Nemo forgot about me. He began to stalk the squirrel.

Every time the squirrel dipped her head for a seed, Nemo crept forward another foot or two. When the squirrel raised her head, Nemo froze.

When Nemo reached the base of the walnut tree, he sat waiting for a minute or two. The squirrel peered over the edge of the feeding basket, daring Nemo to make a move. Nemo charged. The squirrel flew up the tree, chittering (laughing?).

Nemo and the squirrels do this All. The. Time. It’s the Squirrel Game.

Today, though, Nemo’s siblings got in on the action.

Simon trotted up from some hiding spot on the back of the property. He squeaked at me, and then hopped on the bench to be petted. When he saw the squirrel, he used his claws to drag himself on his belly to the bench’s far edge.

Toto came out of the house and hopped onto the other bench. She was purring, but she stopped when she saw the squirrel. She tensed, and crouched, and gave her ‘bird-cackle’.

I snuck inside the house to grab my camera, then backed away from the action.

The squirrel came down to the basket again. All three cats tensed. Nemo didn’t wait this time: he lunged! Simon darted to assist! Toto prepared to pounce!

The squirrel, with an air of ease, raced up the tree. She stared down, taunting the cats.

From the safety of a lower limb, the squirrel watched us watching her. She was brave, allowing me to creep close enough to take some decent shots. I longed to have my tripod at hand, though. (A telephoto shot can only be so sharp without a tripod.)

The Squirrel Game was still being played outside when I left. I’d have liked to stay to watch the final outcome, but I was already late to meet Mitch for lunch.

For more hot cat-on-squirrel action, check out these previous entries:

Those last two haven’t much to do with squirrels, I must admit.

Comments


On 30 May 2005 (09:34 PM),
J.D. said:

And don’t forget to check out dowingba’s Man vs. Squirrel, which features one of those bizarre Canadian black squirrels. (These are all over the place in Vancouver and, apparently, in Toronto.)



On 30 May 2005 (09:46 PM),
Tiffany said:

I hope the squirrel won this round.



On 01 June 2005 (01:55 PM),
Amanda said:

Me too, Tiffany… and every round…



On 06 June 2005 (06:23 AM),
Joel said:

Ah, ladies, refer back to the “Blood of a Squirrel” entry. Like all great games, The Squirrel Game is played for keeps.



On 13 August 2005 (01:31 AM),
Steele said:

Cat vs Squirrel video as caught by my security cameras. It is toward the bottom of the page, which has videos of my cats and kittens I have had. Windows Media Player videos, run better with DSL or Fast Internet connection. Steele
http://www.sshep.com/TooFunny.htm is where page can be found.



On 13 August 2005 (01:38 AM),
Steele said:

I tried to paste the link to that page as a hyperlink so you could click on it but it did not work. If you copy the link and paste it in the Interent browser address area and hit enter it shoudl load ok. This page has about 5 different videos of cat/kittens.
http://www.sshep.com/toofunny.htm

Birdfight!

When I went out to set up for the garage sale this morning, I was startled by the sight of two jays harrying a crow.

Though we’ve begun watching birds since we moved into this house, we really know very little about bird behavior. We were under the impression that crows and jays were allies, but perhaps “allies” means something different in the context of ornithology than it does in international political relations.

I stopped to watch the action.

The crow was attempting to attack something, or take something, or do something in the cedar tree. He would fly into the thick of it only to be set upon by a flock of jays. At first I hypothesized that there was a nest of some sort, in the tree, but now I’m not sure. Do jays nest in cedars? Near houses? Do crows attack jay nests? I want to speak with Jenn’s parents; they’d know.

The crow would stay in the cedar as long as possible. The jays — six? seven? more? — would set upon it, darting in and out, fluttering their wings, chirping harshly. The crow squawked. In fact, its squawks almost sounded like the quacking of a duck.

The battle raged for several minutes.

In the end, the crow was driven from the cedar to the holly, pursued by a particularly aggressive jay. The crow made one more attempt on the cedar, but then the aggressive jay dogged it into the trees across the street.

This birdfight raised a lot of questions.

Other recent bird stuff:

  • Yesterday as we sat in the driveway at the garage sale, a small bird alighted in the hawthorne. For such a small bird, it had a big voice. I cannot remember its call or song now, but I do remember that the little bird had a long, straight beak and, perhaps, a white stripe upon its head. (It was difficult to see.)
  • The rock doves keep visiting the feeder outside the kitchen window. The rock doves, though, are idiots. They can’t figure it out. They strut across the top of the feeder, their massive bodies causing the whole post to sway, and they peer down the side at the food below them. They can’t figure out how to get it. They’ll spend ten or twenty minutes at this before giving up and moving on. Occasionally, one of the rock doves (they travel in pairs) will chance upon the correct approach to the food and get a nice snack, but this happens only rarely.
  • The finches have discovered the new feeder out front. They stop for snacks. They’re a little wary, though, because it’s just a few feet too close to the house.
  • We hung a hummingbird feeder in the mimosa tree, but haven’t had any visitors. We did have a hummingbird visit a couple of weeks ago, but it was drawn to a plant in Kris’ garden. We both happened to be right there, so we watched it for a couple of minutes. Kris was especially close, but the hummingbird didn’t seem to care; it was, after all, much faster than Kris.

If only we could harness bird power to perform yard work.

Neighbors and Dreamtime

I took my River Forest Road walk this afternoon, enjoying the warm sun and a chapter of The Far Side of the World. At one point, I rounded a corner and was brought up short. Before me stood the most gorgeous blossoming tree. (A cherry?) I wished I had taken my camera.

A sunny Sunday in March means yard work, and that’s just what Kris and I did yesterday. Kris did lots of little things, many of which escape me; she was busy all day long. In the mid-afternoon, she planted the asparagus. She dug a foot-deep trench one-foot wide, and buried nine asparagus crowns. They’ll live for eight to ten years, producing their first edible stalks a couple of years from now.

Yum.

While Kris worked on the asparagus, I edged the entire length of the garden, ripping out sod and hauling it back to the compost heap. Back next to the rotting eggshells and coffee grounds, I met another neighbor.

Harvey is the first black man I’ve met in Oak Grove. He and his wife moved into the house behind ours nearly thirty years ago. They’ve been married for thirty-three years and have eleven children, one of whom (Joshua, approximately eight years old) sat and listened to us as we talked.

Harvey’s a good guy. When he moved to Oregon from North Carolina, Harvey worked as a chef. Since then he’s gone into business for himself, installing refrigeration units for restaurants. His wife Becky is actually the daughter of Tom’s first wife. (Tom being the neighbor we know best, the friendly guy next door who, at nearly eighty years old, is building his dream home.) When the former owners of our house installed their high fence with barbed wire, they placed a gate between Harvey’s yard and our yard. When the former owners died, Harvey chained it off. Yesterday, he got out his bold cutters and he cut it the chain off. He installed a new lock and gave us a key, re-establishing open communication between the two yards. I think this was primarily a symbolic act, but I liked it.

We’ve now established contact with nearly all of the neighbors. (We still haven’t met the other backyard neighbors, the ones wholly hidden from us by the laurel hedge.) We know Tom and Roberta best, and are grateful for the kindness they’ve shown us since we moved in. (They’re the source of our grapes and blueberries, for example.)

John from across the road is a character: gruff and frank, but generous. (He invited us to glean his Concord grapes, and he donated lumber for us to construct our own grape trellises.) John spends most of his time in Alaska and New Zealand, so mostly his house is occupied by a series of housesitters.

Kurt and Tammy next door are friendly, too; they greeted us on our first day in the house. They’re closest to our age, and easiest to talk to. They live across from Cyril and Helen, an older couple who moved into their house in 1948. Cyril’s great: he has an opinion on everything and is not afraid to share it. He reminds me of Jeremy.

It’s strange that after nine months we already know most of our neighbors. In Canby, we barely knew the people around us, and we rarely had any interaction with them. It’s not like we spend all our time with our new neighbors, but at least we’ve met them, and we carry on conversations with them when we see them. With Tom and Roberta, especially, I’ve had a lot of talks.

It’s nice.

Last night I woke from a truly terrifying dream:

I am standing in a bus shelter with Mac and Andrew. Outside it is stormy in a wintry kind of way. Looking through a window into a coffee shop, I see Joel, all wild arms and crazy faces, telling a story to some stranger. I keep meaning to tell Mac and Andrew that Joel’s here, but they’re engrossed in conversation, and I do not want to interrupt. Eventually, Joel sees us and comes outside and plants a great big juicy kiss on Mac’s lips. “You gonna give me a ride home?” he asks Mac. Mac is hesitant because he’s promised to drive me home, but Joel goads him until he agrees to go. Andrew goes with them.

I take off by myself, in a car, driving to our new house, which is apparently now located on a hillside, up a winding, narrow road. The road is more icy than slushy, but I’m managing.

And here’s a strange part. For a short time, the dream changes scenes and I am no longer in the action. I cannot recall this ever happening before. Instead, Joel and Mac have arrived at their destination, and Joel is all wild arms and crazy faces, telling a story, but Mac is morose. “I should have taken J.D. home,” he says. “He hates to drive in this stuff. He’s no good at it.”

Indeed, I’m not (at least in the dream). I’m driving up the winding, narrow roads, only no longer in a car but in my pajamas. (WTF?) I take great long runs and then skid on my stomach. And this all seems perfectly natural in Misty Dreamland.

At one point, I accidentally turn onto a logging road. I can’t tell at first because it, too, is a winding, narrow road. Eventually, however, I realize that it is too winding and too narrow. In fact, the trees and shrubs have squeezed in all around so that I am only crawling now. I am very scared. Very scared.

I think of wolves. I think of bears. “This isn’t right,” I think to myself. “My house is on a big road.” And so I turn around and begin to retrace my path, but this time I’m panicked, believing I will be eaten by snowsharks. (WTF?)

My dream ends when I wake, in a fair state of terror, to go to the bathroom at 11:16.

At least there’s this: if I was dreaming — which I did all night long — I was not snoring!

Comments


On 14 March 2005 (09:53 PM),
Kris said:

While Jd was on his walk, I made a feeble attempt to give the camellias their semi-annual feeding. We think we have twenty-three beautiful camellia bushes here at Rosings Park, but it’s hard to be sure, since some of them blend together into one long hedge and others are so tall (15 feet?) they may be several intertwined. Anyway, the fertilizer instructions read: “drench soil around bush’s dripline. In general, 1 gallon (of dilute fertilizer solution) will be sufficient for 1 plant.” Somehow, I do not think they had our camellias in mind when they wrote those. In the end, I filled the two-gallon bucket up 16 times before I ran out of fertilizer granules, and I’m sure I’ve just whetted their appetites.



On 14 March 2005 (11:16 PM),
tammy said:

Hmm, Kris, maybe I need to fertilize my camelia. I hadn’t even thought of it. That’s exactly what I’ll do tomorrow. Greg bought a new mower. It’s self propelled. I’ve never had a self propelled mower. I’ve always had to strong arm my mower through thick stands of clover in our spare lot. I’m not sure how a self propelled mower will do in that sort of situation but we shall see. I’m looking forward to working outside tomorrow.

By the way is there anything we’re suppose to be doing to those roses this time of year? Pruning? fertilizer? Anything? Mine have all leafed out beautifully! I can’t wait to see them blooming!



On 15 March 2005 (06:44 AM),
Joel said:

I think Mac did the right thing in that dream. Between the two of us, I’d probably be more of a danger to the public if I had to drive on those icy roads. Attaboy, Mac, you’re a great kisser!



On 15 March 2005 (08:02 AM),
Steve said:

JD:
We must be neighbors. One of our favorite bike rides is down Oak Grove Blvd. and down River Forest Road. (We’re on Laurie Ave.)
If we can ever scrape together enough money, we’d love to live on the river. I grew up on a river in NH, and I miss being that close to the water. I think in the meantime I will just have to buy a boat so I can take advantage of my proximity to the boat launch at the end of Oak Grove Blvd.
There is a 5 acre lot w/ river front for sale right now at the end of Laurie Ave. (I posted some pictures on my Blog.) It used to be some kind of greenhouse/nursery, but everything is in ruins now. I think the property is listed with Windemere, but I haven’t seen how much they want.
Well, I’ve babbled on for long enough; time to chase the children off to school.
Steve



On 15 March 2005 (11:55 AM),
Courtney said:

I had a bad dream the other night. To make a long story short, I witnessed a murder and ended up in some sort of warehouse. Joel was there, too, and we hid in a dumpster full of cardboard. Why does Joel show up in these weird dreams I wonder?

Garden Science

How useful is your college degree?

I often joke with my friends who have Hard Science backgrounds, ridiculing them for not studying something more useful: a social science perhaps, like psychology. This is all ironic, of course, since there are few degrees more useless than psychology and few more useful than a Hard Science.

Sometimes my lack of Hard Science education thwarts me in unexpected ways. I have a fundamental lack of understanding about electricity, for example, meaning that when I’m rewiring the house, I’m undertaking a leap of faith. I have a poor grasp of rudimentary physics concepts. Biology is basically a grand mystery to me. I may be able to tell you all about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, or to discuss the fascinating merits of Gestalt theory, but I cannot tell you where the pancreas is located.

I did take astronomy in college, for what it’s worth; yet, having astronomy as one’s lone physical science isn’t particularly useful.

Usually.

Our newly tilled garden (can you believe I tilled the garden plot in mid-February?!?) is currently completely shaded by the arborvitae hedge to the south of our lot. I’ve planted peas along the fence, next to the hedge, but I have little hope that they’ll germinate without the warming rays of the sun. When will they get the sun? We know that the garden plot received full sun during the summer, but we haven’t really paid attention to it since.

This sounds like a job for Astronomy Man!

I tried to work this out in my head as Kris and I were driving home the other night: “So if Portland is just north of the 45th parallel, that means the sun is about 45-degrees high in the sky at the Vernal Equinox, right?”

“I don’t know,” said Kris, my wife, upon whom I generally rely to answer all of my Hard Science questions. She’s not so good at astronomy, though.

“I think that’s so,” I said. “And we know that the sun ranges 46-degrees from solstice to solstice, right? The tropics are at 23 degrees north and south latitudes. That means the sun must move approximately eight degrees a month. Give or take.” — I figure the sun’s apparent trajectory must “flatten” near the solstices and “accelerate” between them — “So, in theory, the noon-day sun must sit at 22 degrees above the horizon at the Winter Solstice, and it must be at 68 degrees above the horizon at the Summer Solstice. Our garden plot is ten feet wide and is only now just in complete shade. When will it be in full sun?”

I knew how to frame the problem, you see, but then I ran into trouble. I could not determine the proper geometry formula to work out in my head. Even now, I’m not sure I have enough information. I know the approximate angle of the sun at one-month intervals, and I know the length of the shadow cast by the arborvitae on Feb. 21st, so can I determine the position of the shadows one month from now? Two months from now?

I don’t know.

But I’m going to have fun trying!

(This problem would be a whole lot easier with visual aids. This web site may help.)

Comments


On 21 February 2005 (09:54 AM),
J.D. said:

I know that after my entry on learning Latin, some of you were asking yourself, “Could this weblog possibly get any geekier?”

This entry is my way of saying, “Of course! It can always get geekier…”

:)



On 21 February 2005 (10:23 AM),
Amanda said:

To answer the question posed, a Humanities degree is not useful at all.

I need a sign that says, “Will think for food.”



On 21 February 2005 (10:34 AM),
Anthony said:

I resent the comment that this is a geeky subject (even geekier than Learning Latin, which is by implication even geekier than spending hours comparing and contrasting the merits of various imaginary superheroes).

This is a Real Subject, investigating something that affects you directly, the understanding of which will enable you to actually make better decisions about the Things that Matter.

If most people are not at all interested in such things, it is their privelege and their loss.

I am well aware that my tastes do not represent those of the average reader of this blog, but I would be pleased to see more entries like this one.

I don’t think I know how to figure that problem either(anyway, I don’t feel like trying right now), but I want to hear what you figure out.



On 21 February 2005 (10:41 AM),
Anthony said:

a Humanities degree is not useful at all.

This reminds me of a quote from Wendell Berry.

“The so-called humanities probably do not exist. But whether they exist or not or are useful or not, they can sometimes be made to support a career.”

Apparently the key word is “sometimes.”



On 21 February 2005 (11:05 AM),
Courtney said:

J.D., just cut down the arborvitae and voila! there’s the sun! You don’t even have to go to the trouble of figuring out the astronomy stuff. Then again, the arborvitae stumps are a pain in the ass to dig up. Just ask Andrew!



On 21 February 2005 (11:08 AM),
Doug said:

In a previous entry, you mentioned listening to Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac. Did you ever hear Garrison read the poem about the kid in 5th grade who mis-pronounced “Des Moines”? Do you know the title/author of the poem?



On 21 February 2005 (12:43 PM),
J.D. said:

So, Nick and I spent some time this morning puzzling all this out. We used handy trig tables to determine the approximate shadow lengths at one-month intervals, but there’s a problem with our calculations.

“Isn’t your lot on a slope?” he asked.

And it is. All of our assumptions assumed a right-traingle when there’s no right-triangle to be had. (Which is not all bad. The error is in my favor, meaning we’ll get more sun than I calculated, not less.)

We came up with a technique whereby I can measure the approximate slope of the lot (at least near the garden) in order to arrive at a more precise measurement.

“You’re just doing all this to be goofy, aren’t you?” he asked after a particularly brain-wracking calculation.

“Not at all,” I said. “This has very real implications on our garden and when we can plant things. Also, I talked with the neighbors and they said we can prune the hedge” — the hedge is on their lot, Courtney, so we can’t just cut it down — “and by working this stuff out we can figure out how much we’d have to trim it in order to get sun where we want it when we want it.”

Garden science, that’s what this is. In fact, I’m going to change the entry title to reflect this! :)



On 21 February 2005 (05:44 PM),
Paul J. said:

Arborvitae=evil
Arborvitae=yucky

KILL THE ARBORVITAE!



On 21 February 2005 (07:02 PM),
Kris said:

Boy, some very hostile gardeners out there! I agree that arborvitae is none too pretty, nor does it bloom, bear fragrant leaves, provide food for native species or turn fabulous with fall foliage. But, it does have its place. In this particular case, the neighbor’s arborvitae hedge is a welcome barrier between our yards. Since it’s theirs, and we want it there, but not overgrown, we have volunteered to give it its annual shearing. A good deal all around.
Now, don’t get me started on forsythia– I can’t stand the stuff!



On 21 February 2005 (09:46 PM),
Lane said:

Quince was the bain of my existence… I paid someone to rip out a giant ‘growth’ in my yard. Beautiful, but painful … literally. The little red flowers did not last long enough for the price of all the suckers and the rapier-like thorns.

And I like my Forsythia.



On 21 February 2005 (10:18 PM),
Dana said:

Richard Feynman said:

The theoretical broadening which comes from having many humanities subjects on the campus is offset by the general dopiness of the people who study these things…

(relurk) =)



On 22 February 2005 (10:53 AM),
J.D. said:

A quick update on my garden-based astronomy. I calculated the approximate shadow lengths for the next several months, and it seems that the area next to the fence will never get sun, which makes sense, but doesn’t mesh with what I remember from last summer.

Also, most of the garden will be in full sun by the end of April, despite the fact that none of it is in full sun now. A sizeable chunk will actually be in full sun just a month from now. Trimming the neighbor’s arborvitae will help, of course, but not as much as you might think.

Also, Nick suggested that we measure the slope of the yard, so yesterday afternoon Kris and I took a board and a level and went to work. We figure that in the 83 inches of the board’s length, the ground dropped about 4-1/2 inches. Not much of a slope (so little that I didn’t actually perform additional calculations), but enough to buy us a few extra inches of sun, probably.

I’m sorry, Anthony, that I’m not feeding you precise numbers here. I left them all at home. Suffice it to say that I worked out the precise angle of the sun on the 21st day of each month, and plotted that against the height of the hedge. I used the cotangent to find the approximate length of the shadows.

I think it would be fun for me to mark my predicted spots for the extent of the hedge’s shadow, and then to compare these predictions with reality during the next few months. At any event, we ought to note the sun’s location for future reference and garden planning…

Peanut Battle

There was a peanut battle outside our house yesterday. I took photos. (Some of these are blurry, or underexposed, or mangled by iPhoto. I apologize; I’m learning a new camera. Also, on my monitor at work, some of these photos are very, very dark. )

Every morning she’s home, Kris feeds the birds. She fills the seed feeder with millet and thistle. She puts peanuts and dried corn-on-the-cob in the squirrel feeder which hangs from the walnut tree. She places more peanuts in the feeder outside the kitchen window, along with a pile of birdseed and a new block of suet (if necessary).

[Photo: The scrub jays love the peanuts]

We’re not sure how the birds know to look for new food, but they do. Especially on Sunday mornings. The scrub jays are usually first to find the food, and they’re the noisiest about defending it. They love the peanuts. So do the other birds.

In fact, for a short time, our yard becomes the site of a great Peanut Battle.

We’re still puzzling out the rules to this war. Only one jay can be on a feeder at a time. If another jay swoops in before the first is finished, the newcomer is sent flying with a tremendous squawking chatter. However, if the jay on the feeder takes too long to choose a peanut (are some better than others?), a new jay can chase him off.

If the starling appears, the jays retreat. They’re scared of her. But the starling doesn’t really eat much; she simply likes to sit at the feeder, glowering at the other birds, challenging them to fight.

L: A jay lands at the feeder, R: The mean ol’ starling
 
 
L: The stupid band-tailed dove, R: The flickers perform their mating dance

A couple of band-tailed doves live nearby. They’d like to eat, too, but they can’t seem to figure out how. They see the other birds flying to the feeder, so they come over to join them, but they’re too stupid (and perhaps too big) to land inside where the food is. They land on the roof of the feeder and pace back-and-forth, staring stupidly at all the jays that have peanuts in their mouths.

While the big birds eat, the little birds wait their turn. Even the flickers — which are at least the same size as the jays and have deadly-looking bills — yield. They’re too polite. And besides, yesterday the pair that lives in our trees seemed more interested in each other than in food. They fluttered around the lawn, nodding and bobbing, circling each other. We think they’re preparing to mate.

[Photo: Jay getting a peanut]

It’s important to note that the jays don’t actually eat the peanuts. They take the peanuts and they hide them in the yard. They tuck them in corners of the flower bed. They stick them in the middle of the grass. They cover them with leaves. The jays think they’re planning ahead, storing nuts for later, but they’re really just extending the Peanut Battle.

When the feeding begins, the crows swoop in. They perch on the wires and in the branches of the walnut. They watch the jays tuck their precious peanuts away. When all of the work is done, the crows swoop down to undo it.

L: The crows work methodically in teams, R: They often find peanuts beneath leaves
 

It’s fascinating to watch the crows at work. They cluster in twos and threes, pacing the grass systematically. They snatch up leaves and cast them aside. They check the dirt. They find many peanuts, and they eat them instead of saving them. (In the fall, the crows gather walnuts. To open them, they fly above the street and drop the nuts over and over and over until the nuts crack.)

The picture below may not look like much, but that’s simply because I don’t have a long enough lens to show all the detail:

[Photo: a complex tableaux in which the Peanut Battle rages

That, my friends, is the Peanut Battle raging in full-force. In the left of the frame is a crow, picking through grass and leaves, searching for hidden loot. Up and to the right, you can see Filbert, the squirrel. The squirrels love the peanuts, too. (They dominate the feeder in the walnut tree; the jays yield to their mammalian nature, I guess.) Sunday morning, Filbert was scurrying around this little patch of ground looking for peanuts. He chased off all interlopers: the flickers, the jays, and and the starling. If you stare hard, you can almost discern the jay beneath the rhododendron, to the right of the squirrel. She’s hiding a nut. Clinging to the dogwood at the right of the frame is one of the flickers (the male, I think). He uses his woodpecker grip to hang from the tree while he waits for a spot at the feeder.

There are other birds around, too, of course, all playing some role in the Peanut Battle:

[photo: Steller's Jay] [photo: Northern Flicker [photo: common robin [photo: a Grosbeak?

The leftmost bird above is a Steller’s Jay. She likes to eat from the feeder at the walnut tree. She’s not as brazen as the common jays, and is much more skittish around humans. And cats. The next photo is another (horrible) photo of the flicker. We like our flickers quite a bit, and I look forward to getting some good shots of them eventually. The third photo is of one of the two birdbaths. These get constant use during a Peanut Battle, though we’re not sure why. In this case, the robin has no hope of winning a peanut from the jays, so he’s contenting himself with a five-minute bath.

The final picture above shows a mystery bird. This bird has made a couple of appearances lately, but we can’t get close enough to it to really note its markings. It seems to have a blood-red head. Its wings are dark, with a long white stripe. We can’t recall what its chest looks like. I say this bird is a pine grosbeak, but Kris is unconvinced. (Maybe it’s this house finch we once saw at Jeremy and Jennifer’s?)

We enjoy birdwatching. It’s one of the highlights of our new house. On Sunday mornings we stand in the kitchen window for ten minutes, or twenty, or thirty, and we watch the Peanut Battle unfold.

(We’re not the only family members who like the birds, either.)


Comments


On 31 January 2005 (07:39 AM),
al said:

Nice details and photos. My neighbor hand feeds peanuts to the scrubs, so I’m going to try it soon. They seem a little skittery, but he claims they’ll take the p-nuts right from his hand. How big is the mystery bird? It almost looks like a pileated . . .



On 31 January 2005 (08:04 AM),
J.D. said:

That’s amazing that your neighbor can feed the jays right from his hand.

Kris and both estimate that the mystery bird is about the same size (or perhaps a little smaller) than a jay. I’ve only seen it once, and that was from far away (as you can tell from the photo). As I say, it seemed to have a blood-red hood that didn’t end evenly around its neck. Its wings were dark with a white stripe. (Though from the photo, it seems almost as if perhaps it has a white breast.)

According to Sibley: a jay is about 11.5 inches long, a grosbeak is 9 inches long, and a pileated woodpecker is 16.5 inches long. We did see a pileated woodpecker once last fall, and this isn’t it. The head is definitely different.



On 31 January 2005 (08:17 AM),
Tiffany said:

This is only a little related to your bird watching story.
This weekend we went to Petsmart and were amazed by one lady that brought in her 5 cats to push around in the cart! I mean what cats like to travel in the car?
But far cuter, was a second lady that parked her cat, in a cart, right next to the bird cages. The cat was really enjoying the show from only a foot away.



On 31 January 2005 (08:54 AM),
Tammy said:

Jd, we have these too and I really think they are a red breasted sapsucker; a kind of wood pecker. Read this and see: http://www.mbr-pwrc.usgs.gov/id/framlst/i4030id.html



On 31 January 2005 (10:13 AM),
J.D. said:

Ding ding ding ding!

Tammy is absolutely correct. I’m not sure how I missed this in Sibley, but the mystery bird is a red-breasted sapsucker. The drawing in the book looks exactly like the bird I saw. (And it’s 8.5″ long, which seems exactly right.)

Based on the drawings, I would guess that the specimen in question is young male adult southern red-breasted sapsucker. (The red on the northern variety extends to its chest, whereas the red on this ends around its neck.)



On 31 January 2005 (10:21 AM),
Lynn said:

I loved this entry. My cat and I both love our birds and squirrels.

In the magazine Birds and Blooms they sell a cardboard person to be set in a chair, it’s hand extended, to get the birds used to feeding from it. Then you can just move the cardboard person and take its place, or so the theory goes.

Where do you guys purchase your birdseed, peanuts and suet? You mentioned once that you can find suet on sale for 50 cents each – cheapest I’ve found is about 80 cents.



On 31 January 2005 (10:39 AM),
Kris said:

Lynn–

Coastal Farm store occasionally has a case of 12 suet blocks on sale for $5.99. We stocked up and bought 2 cases last time. Good thing we have a cellar!

Thanks for the bird ID help, Tammy!



On 31 January 2005 (10:56 AM),
tammy said:

Happy to be of assistance, dear cousins.



On 31 January 2005 (02:20 PM),
Amanda said:

Great entry! Now I think I will just have to buy some sort of bird feeder. In Florida it’s not nearly as exciting as in Oregon, apparently. I might see some Mockingbirds, Blue Jays, Crows and the occasional Cardinal (or usually two).



On 31 January 2005 (03:39 PM),
John said:

Great photos. The squirrel vs. bird battles continue at our place. On Sunday, *everyone* was out in the yard battling for seed. Do you ever get the flock of those small finch-like birds? They descend on the ground eating seed. Also, been meaning to ask you: what’s up with the Save Kellog Lake from the Transit Center signs near River Road? Leftovers from last November?

Our Wild Kingdom

It is a cold, damp Sunday morning in the middle of December. Grey.

On the lawn, three plump crows strut purposefully from here to there, pausing to pluck worms or bugs or seeds from the grass. They are together, but apart. They’re like teenage boys. They are cool. They are aloof.

In the garden, among the grass cover crop, a Stellar’s Jay flits from spot-to-spot, finding food the rooks have overlooked. The crows swagger; the jay glides. She is the prom queen, conscious that all eyes admire her beauty.

Jasmine, the neighbor’s Golden Retriever, stands behind the fence, tucked into the gap in the arborvitae, panting. Her black, beady eyes follow the movement of the birds. She shifts her weight from paw-to-paw, barely containing the coiled spring inside her. Were the fence removed, she would bound at them, snatch one in her jaws. Jasmine is the wallflower: the kid without a date.

The squirrels are the class clowns. Two of them have climbed down the walnut tree to feed at the nut basket. One of them is perched upon it, gorging himself on acorns and filberts and seeds. He’s finished the corn cob we put out yesterday, and has flung it to the lawn — a demand for more. The second squirrel makes repeated — but futile — attempts to snatch a seed or a nut from the basket. The first squirrel will not allow it. He shifts position to block the interloper, chases him, sometimes rakes a claw across his haunch. He will not share his bounty. The squirrels bicker in a fierce chatter.

The fat grey neighborhood cat, Crenshaw, is curled in a ball, sleeping on the porch, warm on the blanket we’ve placed there for him. He doesn’t care about the birds, or the squirrels, or the dog. There is sleep to be had and by god! he means to have it. He wakes when I inadvertently slam the door to the coat closet, but only for a moment. He is the apathetic outsider.

And somewhere, somewhere Simon and Nemo are exercising their inalienable right to be outdoors on a Sunday morning. Are they in the bushes, stalking prey? Are they digging among the roses? Are they under the porch, hiding, asleep? Behind the workshop? Exploring dark places? Are they next door visiting Oreo and Tsu? Spending time with Pook? Fighting with Flash?

No — here they come now, up the mudroom steps, pawing the screen door so that it bump-bump-bangs, signaling their desire to be let inside.

Later, Nemo sits and watches the squirrels. His tail sweeps the floor in fevered lashes. When the squirrels chatter, Nemo chatters. He wants outside now. He regrets having come inside for breakfast. A fattened squirrel would be ever-so-much tastier.

Simon is on the kitchen counter — in willful violation of Kris’ iron law — gazing out the window at the birdfeeder. He watches the finches and the chickadees as they peck at the millet, or hang in clusters from the cage in which we’ve placed a block of suet. The little birds love the suet. (So, too, do the starlings. There are no starlings this morning, however.) Simon is stoic. He may wish he could torment the birds, but he does not show it.

Upstairs, Toto is resting like a loaf bread, purring on the futon. She is watching Kris, who is sits at the computer doing her finances, shopping online, listening to Christmas carols.

I am wandering from room to room, admiring this wild kingdom.

In the evening, we drove down to Jeremy and Jennifer’s. While Kris stayed with Harrison and Emma, the rest of us headed to Zion Mennonite for the annual sing-your-own-Messiah. It was great fun, though I felt a little out of place. Not because I was an atheist in a church, but because I didn’t know my part well enough. Next year — and I do plan to do this again next year — I will prepare in advance. I’ll buy a copy of the score, and practice singing along to one of the Messiahs I have on CD.

Comments

On 20 December 2004 (08:33 AM),
Tiffany said:

Our wildlife is not nearly as personable.
We have lots of dogs being walked, most are very thrilled, running from spot to spot smelling the dogs that came by earlier.
We have only one neighborhood cat. She is a very over-weight calico that our cats run from window to window to watch. She can climb the six-foot stucco wall in a flash.
There are lots of birds; sparrows, a few doves, black birds, and lots of humming birds. The humming birds ‘float’ by the windows to drive the cats crazy. We had a falcon that cleared out most of the doves, but he has moved on and the doves are moving back in.
Our pair of road-runners are out every morning. I am not sure where they live, but they keep our yards free of lizards. The cats can not figure out the road-runners, they look like a bird, but are about 1foot high.
Last are the bats… we have the cutest 3-inch brown bats that fly every evening. They sleep most of the day in the tile roof and in the palm trees; they only feed about 30 minutes out of every 24 hours. I love watching the bats.

On 20 December 2004 (09:26 AM),
J.D. Roth said:

Here is the state of the wildlife on a cold, damp Monday morning in December:

Jasmine is nowhere to be seen. Mortimer and Crenshaw are both on the porch, each on his respective blanket. The squirrels are asleep in their lairs. There aren’t any birds on the lawn.

There are, however, many birds at the feeder outside the kitchen window. They’re taking turns. The flicker swoops in from the oak to peck at the millet. When he leaves, a scrub jay floats in to take her turn. Myriad tiny birds swarm the suet cage.

Once again, Simon sits on the window sill, watching them. “Simon,” I tell him. “You’re not allowed on the kitchen counters.” He ignores me.

And best of all: across the yard, perched on the lowest, broadest limb of the filbert, rests an orange furball. Flash has climbed the tree, presumably for a better vantage on all the avian activity. He and Simon have stared at each other, but neither seems compelled to escalate the conflict.

I wish I could find the digital camera.

On 20 December 2004 (09:58 AM),
Kris said:

Here’s a wildlife snapshot from the crime lab:

always lots of crows looking important, as well as seagulls soaring and squawking (rats of the sky!). The starlings in this neighborhood confine themselves to the easy pick-ins at the Costco food court. Today there are Canadian geese on the lawns and last week I saw a mating pair of wood ducks land on the “stream”– we are in a sort of industrial park-slash-wetlands. One morning a grey heron took flight from the cattails as I turned into the parking lot, and people have reported seeing rabbits, too.

Inside the lab, we are dealing with an invasion of large brown spiders. The current hypothesis is that they came in with a delivery of lab coats from the cleaners. Does that give you the willies? Oh, and the morgue apparently has mice.

On 20 December 2004 (10:51 AM),
Jeff said:

Here’s a wildlife snapshot from Custom Box:

Pepe LePew and his foul stench are still living under the office. Maybe we need to paint a white stripe down Toto’s back and put her in the trap — she could surely lure that Casanova out.

On 20 December 2004 (01:18 PM),
Tiffany said:

Is the fact there are spiders in the drug lab and mice in the morgue a contamination problem?

On 20 December 2004 (01:28 PM),
Tammy said:

So do you guys make your own suet? If so how do you do it? I could go through all my kids magazines and find out but I don’t feel like it. Do you put peanut butter in it?

On 20 December 2004 (01:48 PM),
Kris said:

Tiffany– Not a problem from a drug analysis standpoint; neither rodents nor arachnids are known for their substance abuse. Also, there are very few crime scenes where a spider or mouse is going to make or break a case.

Tammy- We buy the suet blocks from a garden or farm store. They are about 50cents apiece if you buy them in bulk when they are on sale, and each one lasts us about a week. I think the main ingredient is beef lard. Which makes you think, where do birds normally find lard in nature? Are they cooperating and taking down cows?

On 20 December 2004 (03:14 PM),
Johnny said:

Although not widely known, birds do, in fact, cooperate to take down livestock. See here

On 27 December 2004 (08:31 AM),
JC said:

It’s ‘critters on parade’ in our backyard. The squirrels are the ruling class–they have gangs even. Though, once in a while, pretty birds flitter down and try to fight their way for some seed.

The Future of Oak Grove

When we moved to Oak Grove, we moved to a unique area in Oregon. The Oak Grove – Jennnings Lodge – North Clackamas community is the largest, most urban non-incorporated area in the state. If we were to form a city, it would contain a population of 36,000, spread over a relatively wide space.

A local citizen committee has been exploring the possibility of incorporating the area, or of annexing one or more sections to existing cities. Last night the committee held a community meeting. Kris and I attended.

I was surprised at the number of people present. When I was on the city of Canby’s budget committee, we rarely had more than five people attend our sessions. Last night, about 150 citizens met to discuss the area’s future. After half an hour of mind-numbing (and pointless) government-speak, we broke into small groups to decide what we want from the future.

In some respects, what we want depends on our age, and on how long we’ve lived here. The older people, especially long-time residents, are opposed to incorporation, and especially to annexation. Younger people, and new residents, are more eager to create a new city. (This delineation isn’t strictly correct; I favor the status quo.)

Among those in my small group were three older men, all long-time residents. To hear them talk, there’s a push to incorporate the Oak Grove – Jennings Lodge area once every twenty years or so. There are also frequent incursions from METRO and other government agencies attempting to exercise greater control over the area. It seems that a large, populous unincorporated area is enticing for some entities; they see it as a potential power base.

These three men — and others at the table — provided a bit of perspective on the entire neighborhood. I asked about a hypothetical bridge from Oak Grove Boulevard to Lake Oswego, and they laughed and shook their heads. It’s a topic that’s been discussed ad nauseam for decades. I asked why the schools in the area are part of the Oregon City school district. They laughed and shook their heads. They explained that River Road used to be 99E before the advent of the Superhighway. They talked about the origin of the area’s redwoods (about which I was already aware, but I humored them by nodding, listening, and asking questions).

Judging from the mood of the room, it seems unlikely that the push to incorporate will succeed. Informal polling indicated that most of the small groups were opposed to creating a new city by about a two-to-one margin. (There were some small groups that broke evenly, however.)

The opposition argument can be summarized thusly: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. There is no reason to change, so why do it? If the area is threatened by some outside force — by METRO or by government legislation — then more people would be in favor of incorporation.

I don’t understand why citizens want to sacrifice the uniqueness of the areas in which they live. In Canby, there seemed to be a relentless drive to become more like Wilsonville or Tualatin, to become a bedroom community for Portland, complete with all the strip malls and expanded housing this entails. In the past decade, we watched the town shed its identity as a farming community to become a characterless cookie-cutter suburb.

Oak Grove and the surrounding communities are unique. We already have the strip malls and expanded housing that Canby so desperately desires, but we’re an unincorporated area. This gives us some freedoms that city dwellers do not have. This uniqueness is important, and ought to be celebrated rather than discarded.

(Rumor has it that more on this subject will appear later today at Clackblog. Also: if you’re from the Oak Grove area and looking for some history on this subject, please read The Story of a Neighborhood That Fought METRO. Also, writing this reminds me that I’ve never finished my lengthy “History of Oak Grove” entry. Maybe I’ll post what I’ve got and finish it later…)

Comments


On 23 November 2004 (06:34 AM),
Jeff said:

It’s 4:56 and I’m wade awake.

But apparently not as wide awake as you think you are. :-)

Thanks for cleaning up the spam, by the way — I was not looking forward to cleaning up that mess. Although, I did kind of want to try out MT-Blacklist for the first time. Let me see if I’ve got this right — I want to Blacklist words like Hotmail, AOL, Canby, Alan, JD Roth, Tony…

On 23 November 2004 (07:29 AM),
mac said:

J.D. Could you post a little tutorial on how you use MT-Blacklist. I have it installed, and to despam, I click on the link at the bottom of every spam comment that is emailed to me. Is this the most efficient way to do it, or is there a way to despam multiple comments at the same time? That would be really helpful to us over at Minutus.

On 23 November 2004 (07:52 AM),
JC said:

Thanks for the post. [Couldn’t attend the meeting…family in town, etc.] I’ve always wondered about that railroad bridge that crosses from the park on the river at the foot of Courtney. My brother says he saw people walking across it yesterday.

On 23 November 2004 (08:30 AM),
tammy said:

Thnaks Jd. I had 200 and some odd comment spams at Dishpan dribble when I awoke this morning. When I tried to delete them I discovered they wouldn’t load. I assumed you had been hard at work. thanks a bunch. I get so much spam on that weblog it makes me sick. Even using the blacklist thing is annoying. It takes time I seldom have. It seems I spend endless amounts of time just deleting spam.It seems by now that someone could figure out how to get rid of spam forever.

On 23 November 2004 (09:14 AM),
Lisa said:

J.D., I know that Matt mentioned this tutorial about blocking spam a while ago, but I thought I’d give the link again for others who may be interested: http://www.elise.com/mt/archives/000246concerning_spam.php

I recently implemented solution number 10, which is closing comments for old entries. It’s helped immensely, since spammers usually attack older entries. The script that I installed isn’t automatic, though, so I run it from time to time to close entries older than x days. (I know that this may be difficult for you with so many sub-blogs, and your blog requires more comments than mine.)

Between closing comments and using MT-Blacklist, I’ve had few problems. I tried requiring people to preview their comments, but reversed it because it didn’t seem to help enough to merit the annoyance it caused.

On 23 November 2004 (09:23 AM),
Tiffany said:

M&D bought their house in 1986 or 1987 and their street is unincorporated. They were told that it would be incorporated soon. It still has not been. This means that the street is full of potholes that need to be fixed. When the house was robed, there was some discussion about which police force was to respond. I imagine that an ambulance would have the same problem.

If your area has these questions sorted out, then I can understand want to stay unincorporated.

On 23 November 2004 (10:11 AM),
Lane said:

I was hoping to attend last night’s meeting. Alas, I was not able to. I’m glad you were able to attend. I’ve lived my whole live (33 yrs) in Oak Grove, except for 18 months in Cannon Beach and 18 months on the PSU campus. My gut feeling is the same as the majority “It ain’t broke… “. I like the low density of the area, however that lowers the tax base. I hate the strip clubs, however that increases the tax base. We don’t have any manufacturing or large businesses to bring in money to the community, therefore if we were our own city, the money to run the city would have to come from the small businesses and residents. If we were to change our identity (become a part of Milwaukie or Gladstone, or become the city of Oak Grove) it could be better, but I am so distrustful of Gov’t right now that I could just picture a giant clusterf^$&.

On 24 November 2004 (09:27 PM),
John Bartley K7AAY said:

Monday night’s talk-talk heard our locale referred to as ‘we don’t have a name for it yet’. I’ve read it described as ‘the UnCity’ by the Complete Communities gang.

And, boy, if ‘Complete Communities’ ain’t NewSpeak, I don’t know what is.

I could live with The UnCity, but it really doesn’t portray the area well. Instead, I think we’re living in No Name City. Yep, No Name City, from Paint Your Wagon, another fine Oregon icon.

I mean, strip clubs, miles and miles of car lots, The Abandoned Albertson’s, vacant storefronts in strip malls galore; it’s No Name City, all right! And, nothing the planners could do with even the tax levels of the People’s Republic of Portland could fix it.. the only thing we can do is to stay out of the way of the economy, which means no new city to make new taxes and depress growth further.

Whadda ya say? You want to turn the NewSpeakers on their ear, and fix that image in the minds of the public with The Power of the Blog? No Name City, No Name City… I wonder if we could get Clint Eastwood to sing it for us.

Steller’s Jay

For the past few years, there have been signs that Kris and I, as we get older, might become birdwatchers. Kris has always exhibited a keen eye for birds of prey, pointing out hawks and eagles that I’d otherwise not notice. I’ve often delighted at winged visitors at the feeder. (Though I take equal delight when one of our cats makes a meal of a visitor.)

We’ve taken even greater delight in birds since moving to the new house. We’re still not serious about birdwatching as a hobby — we don’t take notes, we don’t keep records — but there are times that one of us will call for the other — “Kris, come quick! Come quick!” — and we’ll watch silently while some bird plays in the yard.

One recent afternoon, we watched the scrub jays take turns wading in the birdbath, dousing themselves with enthusiasm.

Another day, we thought we saw a hawk roosting on an aerial across the street. We saw the same bird, or something similar, a few days later. This time I had my binoculars at hand so that we were able to get a closer look. Which bird of prey had we spied? A pigeon. A large, plump pigeon.

We’re not exactly expert-level birders.

Earlier this summer, I was whiling away a Saturday morning underneath the walnut tree, basking in the sun. A small bird alighted on the tree and began knocking at the trunk. Either it knocked very slowly, or it knocked so rapidly that the many raps merged into one. I figured the bird to be a woodpecker, but a glance through The Sibley Guide to Birds revealed that I’d most likely seen a Northern Flicker. (Though I’m only able to say that with maybe 75% confidence.)


Northern Flicker

While I was outside today, exterminating slugs (seventeen!), a gorgeous blue bird with a black tufted head landed in the walnut. It was a beautiful thing, with glossy feathers, and a graceful demeanor. When I described it to Kris, she suggested that it might be a jay, and indeed it was. We see plenty of Western Scrub-Jays here, but this was a Steller’s Jay. It was beautiful. I want to see another.


Steller’s Jay

There were two other minor bird incidents today. In the first, a scrub jay was harrying one of the squirrels, which was standing in the lawn, eating nuts. In the other, three large crows swooped and twined together, playing over the lawn. Mortimer, one of the neighborhood cats (who has decided he actually lives on our front porch) watched the crows intently.

“You know,” I said to Kris. “I don’t think I know a cat who could take a crow. I think a crow could kick any cat’s ass. Crows are big, and they’re smart, and they look a little mean.”

“And their beaks are hard and pointy,” Kris added.

For the rest of the day I said, “Hello, Corvus,” whenever I saw a crow.

Comments

On 25 October 2004 (07:54 AM),
Dana said:

Crows have also been observed to make and use tools in the wild.



On 25 October 2004 (12:25 PM),
Amanda said:

I want to become a birdwatcher when I get old, too. I already watch a lot–on my 20 mile drive home from work every day, I’m usually able to spot several osprey, a hawk or two and, on very rare and lucky occasions, a bald eagle has crossed my path!

Birds are cool. We have an owl who lives within a few hundred yards of our house who we hear regularly. One night, while sitting on our front porch, he granted us with a visit–landing on the telephone wires directly across from us and directly underneath a huge light! That made my whole night.



On 25 October 2004 (01:30 PM),
Denise said:

I would love to see an owl. I’ve never seen one in the wild. My parents have an owl that lives in a tree close to their back deck – I can hear him some nights, but I’ve never seen him.



On 25 October 2004 (01:34 PM),
J.D. said:

What is it about birds that’s so intriguing? They’re fun to watch, big and small. I suppose that it’s fun to watch most animals (when they’re not sleeping), but birds especially so.



On 25 October 2004 (02:08 PM),
Lisa said:

Trivia: Craig graduated from Stellar High School. Their mascot was a jay. He may have more Stellar trivia than you would ever want to know.



On 25 October 2004 (05:52 PM),
al said:

I love Stellers. They are fairly common in Forest Park. My neighbor claims to be hand-feeding peanuts to the scrub jays, but I left a peanut outside for about a week with no takers.



On 26 October 2004 (07:16 AM),
Anthony said:

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Stellar’s jay. It is great that you got a chance to enjoy one right at your feeder.

“You are worthy, O Lord, to recieve glory and honor and power, for you have created all things, and for your glory they exist and were created” (Revelation 4:11)

JD, this world is a masterpiece. By an Artist. I wish you could see Him.

By the way, thanks for the link to Toto’s post about catching birds. That was good.



On 26 October 2004 (08:31 AM),
jenefer said:

When we were children growing up in Alhambra, CA, Mother (Kris’s grandmother) started feeding a very curious Scrub Jay when she was working in the garden. First it was cutworms that she dug up. Over a period of time, years, Pigo became quite friendly, not just curious. He would wake us up in the morning by knocking on the glass of Mother’s bedroom window, looking for a handout. At breakfast he would stand on the window air conditioner, which was in the dining room window, and peck on that window to be let in. It was the horizontal louver-type. He became very comfortable in our house. Mother would hide pinion nuts for him around the house and he would look for them and find them. We always suspected that he watched her hiding them from the window even when the blinds were closed. He had a family and once the babies fell down the chimney in curiosity. The rest of his family and off- spring were never friendly. After about ten years, he stopped coming. We figured he was dead. Very sad, but a great childhood experience.

Chilly

I can’t get warm.

“I’m cold,” I said last night at the dinner table. Kris and I were eating take out pizza: mine pepperoni and pineapple, hers barbecue chicken and skanky black olives. (Why can’t pizza places buy good black olives?)

“This house is going to get cold this winter,” Kris said, munching on a slice.

“You think?” I asked.

“Yes, I do,” she said.

She may be right.

We recently had a high-efficiency gas furnace installed. It takes a while for it to do its thing, but once the house is warm, it seems to maintain the temperature fairly well. Still, we have to figure out how to program the thermostat so the house is warm when we need it to be warm, but is cool when we need it to be cool.

This morning was bad.

Last night Kris decided to fiddle with the thermostat. She delayed the morning heat by half an hour. It’s not tremendously cold outside yet — no lower than the mid-40s — but when I got up this morning it felt colder than it has been so far this fall. I was decidedly cool. In the old house I would have warmed my inner core with a nice bath. That’s no longer possible, of course, and a shower just doesn’t provide the same warmth.

Nevertheless, I had it in my mind that a hot shower would be just the thing. Only a hot shower was not to be had. There was no hot water. Kris had used it all. So, not only was my inner core not warmed, it was actually cooled.

I reacted by sulking and pouting, of course.

“Stop it,” Kris said. “It’s not worth being grouchy.”

“You’re not the one who’s cold,” I said. “You had a hot shower.”

She just shook her head and ignored me. I went upstairs to the computer. There I performed an iTunes filter on the word “cold”. I played the resulting songlist.

“Very funny,” said Kris over Foreigner’s “Cold as Ice”. When I left the house, Hank Williams’ “Cold Cold Heart” was playing.

On the drive to work, I cranked the heat as I listened to my Patrick O’Brian. I’m sure the car was an inferno by the time I reached work, but I still felt cold.

At work, in my skunky office, I turned on the space heater full blast. I zipped my sweatshirt. I tried to think warm thoughts. I listened to the Beach Boys.

José came in for some orders. “Ay-yi,” he said. “Es muy caliente!”

I still think it’s cold.

I can’t get warm.

Comments

On 21 October 2004 (09:54 AM),
Kris said:

We’re having temperature issues here in our new laboratory, as well. The chemistry rooms have been warm. Even for me, 84 degrees when I’m wearing a fall sweater and lab coat is too hot. Today we learned the reason: the thermostatic sensor that controls the chemistry lab, instrument room and offices is (wisely) located in the trace evidence microscope room, located on an outer wall right by a large window. As a result, the thermostat thinks it’s cold, and heat is pumped out in chemistry. The heat never reaches the sensor, of course, because the heat and the sensor are separated by two air-seal doors. Lovely.

This morning, we are finally getting our bulletin boards mounted on the walls. Why, you may ask, did it take three weeks? Because, dear reader, we were not allowed to hang them ourselves. No, sir! Instead, a state (DAS)employee had to do the job. Now, there are state employees and there are state employees. Our particular DAS representative is about 6-foot-two and hugely obese. He moves in slow motion, taking frequent rests. As you can imagine, in the heat, he was sweating profusely, using his already-sodden bandana to wipe the sweat from his bald head.

As the DAS guy was laboring with drill and screws, my co-worker Rob had put in a CD mix of mine that ended with Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise”. This engendered a discussion of the Weird Al version, “Amish Paradise”. So, the next CD had to be Weird Al’s Greatest Hits. Too late did we guiltily realize that the first two songs are “Fat” and “Eat it”. Boy, did we feel like jerks.

On 21 October 2004 (10:06 AM),
Denise said:

Hmm…and Kris doesn’t have her own weblog because of ????? ;)

I just think it would be very intersting to hear of all the testing and other coolio activities she does during the day.

Ok – bad pun, but I couldn’t resist.

On 21 October 2004 (10:31 AM),
AmJo said:

I too can’t seem to get warm. I forgot how much colder it feels when it is damp. The winter temps. in DC are lower than here and the wind can be a real bitch, but it is dry. I warmed up much easier there than I do here. I can’t get my feet and hands to stay warm, especially at night. I think Paul may have even felt sorry for me last night–he wrapped his ever-warm hands around my cold, cold feet while we were watching the West Wing.

On 21 October 2004 (10:33 AM),
Pam said:

J.D. – First your interest in clothes shopping raised some eyebrows and now you are cold – Welcome to the world of ice “queens.”

On 21 October 2004 (01:54 PM),
Joel said:

I bet a nice hot enema would warm your core!

They turned on the heat in our classrooms. Now instead of bundling up in a sweater and a ski cap for class we all strip down in the heat. And doze.

On 21 October 2004 (01:59 PM),
Lynn said:

Funny, I’ve been colder this fall than normal. I even stocked up on longjohns at the Target sale for sleeping.

On 21 October 2004 (02:12 PM),
Denise said:

Hmm…maybe we are all just getting old.

On 21 October 2004 (03:16 PM),
Semi-sequitur Tangent Man said:

I too wonder if olives can taste good on pizza. I like olives on my pizza but they almost always turn out rubbery. (These are your run-of-the-mill black olives BTW.)

On 21 October 2004 (03:42 PM),
J.D. Roth said:

Greetings, Mr. Tangent Man. It’s good to have you back. :)

I am very particular about olives. I love olives, or at least the good ones. I had never tried non-black olives until a couple of years ago, and now I’m an addict, especially in the spring and summer. Black olives have their place, of course, and I eat them especially in the fall. However, I prefer meat olives, and above all they must be *firm*, especially if I am to eat them by themselves.

Too often I find that food service olives in general, and pizza olives in particular, are of some strange degenerate variety: limp and rubbery, possessing a dull, metallic taste. If I wanted metallic olives I’d, well…I’ll never want metallic olives. And yet those were the sort on Kris’ pizza last night.

Deplorable.

(p.s. I am particularly fond of Black Pearl Jumbos, which have long ago been renamed Black Peral Extra Large or some such. The MNF women take pleasure in trying to test my ability to detect Black Pearl Jumbos. I’ve got a fairly good — though not perfect — track record. The key is the olives must be of quality; they need not always be Black Pearl Jumbos.)

On 21 October 2004 (07:25 PM),
John said:

Try this…
Snuggle-up together in a warm blanket with a good novel, take turns reading. It warms the body, heart and soull

On 22 October 2004 (09:41 AM),
Jon said:

We put in a gas water heater when we remodeled the basement. I’ve never noticed that we run out of hot water.