“Wow! Will ya look at the birdfeeders swinging sideways!
And what gives with all the birds making themselves at home in MY home?
There must be a hundred of them parked in all the entrances to my hidey-holes in the woodshed. Zoom on in and look at the pieces of wood. Nearly every piece is occupied.
Oh, well. They’re just trying to get out of the wind too. I suppose I can always sneak in the back door if need be.”
A long time ago, I took this picture from my bedroom window.
A young deer felt quite at home, and the pheasant in the background was one of about nine who did the daily rounds of our place. I felt like I lived in paradise.
Now, 31 years later, subdivisions have sprung up half a mile down the road and the horde of people who want their dogs to poop somewhere away from their own yard comes here to walk where there are still a few trees standing. That alone wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t dislike people and I love dogs (and cats and all sorts of animals), but when the dog walking came to our neighbourhood, many dog owners thought that once they left the cement and asphalt of their subdivision, it was okay to unhook their dogs and let them tear around in rural properties.
If I didn’t want my garden torn up, I would have to build a fence.
Sadly the deer can’t come in to wander through the yard anymore, and the pheasants and many quail we used to see have all become victims of unleashed dogs, stray cats, and the loss of habitat.
We still have trees and lots of shrubs for cover, so songbirds and little animals still come here. I don’t mind people walking by with their dogs on a leash; many of them are very pleasant, friendly, and considerate. Others are more self-centered. After virtue-signaling that they pick up their dog’s poop, they wait until no one sees, and fling the used poop bags into the shrubbery or into my yard.
I’m uncomfortable listening to personal conversations being shouted between two people walking together, or bellowed into the phones of people walking solo. I don’t need to know how much their last massage cost or that their credit card was rejected when they tried to pay for it.
I don’t understand why some of the people who visit our neighbourhood can’t enjoy the quiet of nature. Why are they so loud and rude? Why is it all about them?
Among the walkers who are considerate of people living nearby, are a few intrusive women between the age of 25 to 50, many of them behaving like teenagers. This small segment of society seems to be working hard to be noticed. I see them around town, in the grocery stores, in traffic, everywhere.
Yes, I believe in women’s rights. Very much so. But I believe in all people’s rights. No single group deserves more attention or privileges than another.
This special breed of women has inspired the muse in me today.
About 100 ft. from my house stands a maple that has seen better days. The woodpeckers peck holes into the trunk, and it’s a wonder that the tree hasn’t lost more limbs in the recent windstorms.
Still, I love to see the woodpeckers, and I always have my camera handy for bird sightings. When I spotted this one on the maple this morning, I grabbed the camera and rushed out onto the deck to snap a photo. I closed the sliding door quietly.
“Please don’t fly away until I get a picture,” I whispered.
He didn’t fly away, so I snapped some more. Still he didn’t fly.
“This is great,” I thought. The squirrels were chattering noisily just then, and I assumed that the woodpecker hadn’t heard me tiptoeing out onto the deck.
But then I thought, “That’s strange. He should have flown by now. Or at least pecked at the bark. But he’s just sitting there. Maybe he’s sick.”
I brought the camera in and uploaded the photos onto the laptop. Then I could see the bird more clearly. I wasn’t sure what kind it was. Maybe not a pileated woodpecker, after all. He seemed to have morphed into something else.
A broken off branch surrounded by the maple’s tears?
“Floyd! You’ve been at the suet block forever!” says Johnny Junco. “Don’t you think you should give me a turn?”
“Bah! Go eat the seeds I drop,” says Floyd.
Rufus and his Missus zoom in as soon as Floyd takes a break. “How is it?” asks Rufus.
“A lot of fat before you can get to the good stuff,” she says.
“Well, why don’t you get right into the cage?” Rufus says. “You’re slim enough.”
“Why thank you,” the Missus says. “How kind of you to say so. I hadn’t thought of that. But you stand guard in case Floyd or his girlfriend, Bossy Flossie, comes back.”
“I guess I’ll just have to pick at what drops on the ground,” Johnny says. “Those guys are just too big for me to take on. But at least there’s something for everyone.”
Folks! Dickie here. I wasn’t going to make a New Year’s resolution, but something happened to change my mind. I’m sorry to tell you we’ve got thieves in the woodshed. Well, at the very least, they’re freeloaders.
Here’s what happened. Flossie and Flora Flicker and their brother Floyd were checking out breakfast joints….
“I’ve been picking at the ground for those ant eggs and beetles, but they’ve all gone into hiding,” said Flossie.
“Give it up. I know a better place,” called Flora.
“What did you say?” Flossie shouted. “I had my head in the sand there for a minute. Didn’t hear what you said.”
“I said, Flossie, there are easier ways to get a meal around here. Your brother, Floyd has already gone to look. So, are you interested?”
“I know the sunflower seeds are stashed around here, in the woodpile,” Floyd mumbled. “I bet Rufus Towhee knows where they are, but he hasn’t been very helpful.”
“I was just about to tell Floyd about the sunflower seeds in the jar,” said Rufus, “but then he found this big ugly bug. I just had to turn my back. Can’t stand to watch him crunching away on it.”
“And now for dessert!”
“I do feel a little bit bad, eating Dickie’s sunflower seeds. He’ll be so disappointed when he sees they’re gone.”
“Oh deardeardear! They found my stash. And Floyd is bigger than I am. Did you see that spear of a beak on him? Well … lesson learned. My first New Year’s resolution – I’m going to have to start getting up earlier and get my share.”
I think I see him. I hope he’s got my bag of grubs.
Yes, you’re right! And I see the big sack full of hazelnuts for me.
Er, ah, HERE I AM, Santa. OVER HERE!
Where? I don’t see anything.
When he does come, I hope he brings me a lot of rosehips. Wonder what they’d taste like. In the winter I get tired of these holly berries and mountain ash berries. But maybe the rosehips are too fuzzy inside. They look good though.
Oooooh! Look! He’s got sleigh troubles. His reindeer are conking out. Should’ve got a Tesla Sleigh. With inflation, the price of reindeer food today is high, even for Santa. But even so, the cost of the Tesla Sleigh itself is enough to break the bank.
Yeah, he’s in trouble all right. Look! He’s turning around. Sniff… there goes that box of dog biscuits I asked for.
I see that. Hmm … I think I hear them complaining about being hitched up so close. Something about social distancing.
Sigh! No herring for supper tonight. Not by special delivery, anyway.
Well, I never! He’s going back to the North Pole. There goes that bunch of tree bugs I asked for.
I’ll go round up some recr-hoots.
Hey, you. Santa’s looking to hire you, Al and the Paca, to be his reindeer substitutes.
What’s that you say? You don’t play second fiddle? Huh! You’d think that in the spirit of Christmas, you’d oblige an old man. I see you are related to those llamas next door with all their llammering. You’re just lazy, the All Packa ya. Well, see if I give a hoot.
Here’s a likely crew.
Say, would you pronghorns like to save Santa’s bacon tonight?
But we’re in Montana.
That’s okay. He’ll have to go by there when he limps home with his rainydeer crew and drops them off. Maybe you can hop on and help get them home before the nightshift begins. Thanks a lot.
I’ve been watching and I don’t see him coming back yet. Must be in the workshop, adjusting the harnesses to the new team.
I think I see him now, with his fresh crew of pronghorns. Funny-looking reindeer. Better than nothing, I guess.
Oh, this is so exciting. We just can’t sit still.
Children, children, not so loud,
Reindeer’s nervous of the crowd,
Send a delegation out,
Find that sleigh, and kids don’t pout.
Let’s go meet him.
This way! This way!
Santa’s big sleigh.
Sliding, gliding,
Santa’s riding.
Now settle down or Santa will think you’re all quackers.
Look how well behaved we are; black and white, eating at the same table together. One big happy flock. We’re a “blended flock.”
Oh, listen to you guys. You think it’s easy being the black swan of the family?
Whaddaya mean? You think you’ve got it bad? You try being a rat. All I did was chew on a few of those lovely black licorice cords in the truck and WHAM! They lifted the trunk and exposed me to the elements. But they won’t see me hiding in the corner. Bet you can’t see me either. I’ve got a really good hiding place in the door well too. I’ll just wait there until Santa brings new wiring for me to nibble on.
One thing we all got for Christmas – not sure if Santa had anything to do with it – was darn cold weather. So when Santa had to fly back to change his Rainydeer tires for the more heavy-duty Pronghorn brand, he asked the North Wind to provide some Puddle Puzzles for us to play with while we await his return.
Actually, I thought the puzzles were more like A-maze-ing. You just try it. See if you can find a path out of this maze.
I hope your Christmas holiday time is amazing too.
Did you find the rat in the truck? Look on the far back right-hand corner of the picture (actually the left side of the truck).
My name is Vera. I’m a varied thrush. You may think I look a lot like Roberta the robin. She’s my cousin.
Here’s Roberta the robin this spring, looking a bit ruffled up against the wind.
Roberta came down from the hills with her friends and family last week and so did all my varied thrush friends. We’d been in the conifers in the hills, picking at berries and bugs, but then the snow came and covered all our food.
So we huddled in the woods until the worst of the weather blew over and then found out where Roberta had gone. Well, we all congregated at Anneli’s house and at some of her neighbours’ too. The bare patches of dirt had bugs and worms we could pick at, and the houses along this road had a lot of mountain ash trees growing, so we ate some of those red berries they grow.
wordsfromanneli 