wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.

Category Archives: Animals


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Herring, and Egg on Your Face

So much fuss over a little fish.

But it is a very popular fish, especially on the tables of the UK and Germany. You can have it smoked or fried, or fried and served in tomato sauce, or pickled and rolled up into Rollmops. If you like fish, you probably love herring.

My mother told me that back in the days before WWII, a fishmonger was selling herring in the street, and he called out to the customers, “Herring! Herring! So fett wie der Goering.” (“Herring! Herring! As fat as Goering” [the commander-in-chief of the Nazi air force]). Since Goering’s name rhymed with the name of the fish, it caused a chuckle among the townspeople who came out of their houses to buy his fish.

But the Nazi bigwigs didn’t like to be made fun of so they arrested the fishmonger and put him in jail for two weeks.

When he was released, the fishmonger went back out onto the streets to sell his herring, calling out, “Herring! Herring! … As fat as … they were two weeks ago.”

*****

Right now the local herring fishery is winding up and the cleanup begins.

Here is a photo of the beach area below our house where you can see the herring spawn turning the water close to shore a turquoise blue colour.

The seiners have caught their allowed quotas of herring and most have gone home.  There is still a lot of herring spawn (eggs) in the water, a lot of it stuck to seaweed and being washed up on the beach.

This is what the seagulls gorge themselves on.

The one on the bottom left has “egg on his face” but doesn’t seem to mind it. See the herring roe sitting on his beak?

*****

In my other blog, you might be interested in a post about what turns readers off.

https://annelisplace.wordpress.com/2021/03/20/what-turns-readers-off/


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Herring Provides for All

The seiners wait in the harbour for the signal that the herring are fat enough, with a high enough roe count, to allow the roe herring fishery to proceed.

Rafts of sea lions are waiting too. They will take advantage of the herring being “rounded up” in the purse seines of the big boats. Many herring “escape,” right into the waiting jaws of these huge mammals.

Some of them like the fishy smell coming from small power boats and are trying to investigate up close.

Seagulls wheel around the seiners trying to grab any herring that swims too close to the surface.

This immature eagle is about to find out that the beach will be full of bounty as roe and herring and bycatch float ashore. These foods provide much-needed calories for the eagles especially at their nesting time, which happens very soon after the herring fishery. Healthy eagles will have healthy chicks.

And let’s not forget that as much as we scoff at seagulls and their shrieking habits, they are the janitors of the beaches, cleaning up every bit of mess.

 

Once the carnage has been cleaned up, the animals have to scrounge what food they can until next year’s feast.


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Six Weeks?

On February 2, Punxsutawney Phil, the official groundhog weather forecaster, dashed back into his burrow because he saw his shadow, and thus predicted six more weeks of winter.

“Ugh! You’ve got to be kidding me,” says the Steller’s jay.  “Six more WEEEEEEKS!”

I felt the same way, and have been waiting (im)patiently for spring to come, and today I realized that six weeks must soon be up.

March 16 should be the last groundhog-predicted day of winter. So I expect spring to happen the next day.

One more week!

I’ll be looking for signs of spring for my next post. Are you finding any where you are?


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Carving the Bird

It’s not a turkey that needs to be carved, but Fletcher the Flicker is getting creative as he dines on a snack of suet at the feeder.

“I’m going to carve you into a little duckling. Who knows? It might improve the flavour.”

“Oops! What was I thinking? I’ve eaten your bill, my little duckling.”

“Hmm! You’ve got a problem there, Fletch.”

“Well don’t just sit there and criticize, Orson. Do you have any bright ideas?”

“I guess not. Unless he’s gone to think about it….”

“Well, Fletch, I … er … let’s see …. For one thing, his bum’s too fat.”

Fletcher closes his eyes and counts to ten. “Lord give me strength.”

But then Orson has an idea.

“You pick away under his chin – that will help – and I’ll pick away at his fat tush. And by the way, it’s great working with you, Fletch. That snarky starling is not nearly as nice as you are.”

“I’m keeping my distance when he’s around. Get a load of that spearing beak and those mean, beady eyes. Not to mention that grabbing set of claws he’s got. No, Sir! I’m not doing anything to draw attention to myself. No sneaking a bite while he’s there.”

Fletcher carves a duck of suet,
Asks his friend for help to do it.
Orson's happy to oblige him
Least he knows he won't get bludgeoned.

Snarky starling, meanest birdy,
Doesn't share, and oft plays dirty.
Orson spends his time with Fletcher,
Both are happy, yep, you betcha.


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The White Stuff

“Eh? Orson? What’s that you said?” That Oregon junco knows everything that’s going on around here.

It's a chilly wind today,
My fur coat is on to stay,
I'm so happy to be warm,
With the temps below the norm.

“If you’d pay attention, Lincoln, you’d know there’s been a big change in the weather.” Him and his big fur coat. He probably hasn’t even noticed. But just look at Emma. She’s still trying to figure it out too.

Look now, Lincoln! See the ground,
See the flakes fall all around?
Food will be more precious though,
Covered as it is with snow.

“Sheesh! This is just like in the movies where Bambi says, ‘Mother, what’s all that white stuff?’ and she says, with her soft, stunned voice, like some naive housewife out of a 50s sitcom, ‘Why … it’s snow!'”

Emma snarfs in deep, long sniffs,
White stuff gives off special whiffs,
Did a raccoon pass by here?
Did a rabbit scratch his ear?

Licking, tasting flakes of snow. 
Tries to bite it, where'd it go?
Funny flakes of wetness fall,
On her head and over all.

Emma gives her coat a shake,
Leaving just one lonely flake,
Sitting on her pointy nose,
Then into the house she goes.


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Dinner at the Diner

I wonder if there’s a restaurant up there. They dropped some food here on the floor, but maybe there’s fresher stuff up top.

Ah … this is more like it. A real borgasschmord of meaty worms and grains. Looks like a zinnia dropped some seeds here, and a bunch of other weedy things left promises of more weeds in the spring. I could help Anneli out by eating the weed seeds. But it might be easier to go dine at The Suet Block today.

Uh-oh! Looks like Mr. Darling Starling is already tucking in.

“Hey, Star! Don’t you know Anneli doesn’t want you here?”

“And why might that be, you little piece of Junc-o?”

“Well … she says you gobble too much food and don’t share, and anyway, she doesn’t like feeding baby killers. You know you’re a nest robber.”

“Harrumpf! Watch it, Twirp, or I’ll peck your eye out. And anyway, you’re not social distancing.”

“OMG! OMG!” said Harry, the hairy woodpecker. “I’d like to go down there, but – sheesh! That starling is star-k raving mad! … and-and-and he’s m-m-mean too.”

“I’m being good, Mr. Starling. See? I’ll keep my distance. I’ll just sit here and watch until you’re done.”

“Well, Twirp, you should have brought a chair. I’m gonna be a while.”

“Heh, heh, heh. Here comes Anneli. Look at that coward fly. He’s a “star” at running away. Coward! Heh-heh-heh. Wish Anneli would sit out here in the rain with us … sigh….”


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Good Ole Mother Nature

You’ve seen pictures of my woodshed before, but take a closer look at the wood. It is dotted with birds, most of them Oregon juncos and pine siskins all trying to find shelter and food to keep enough warmth in their little bodies to survive until the fury of the storm has passed.

The rain lashed out in torrents and blew into all shelters sideways. The feeder is blurry, in constant motion, blown by the howling wind. The Captain and I made up a hanging cage for yet another suet block and moved two birdfeeders farther into the woodshed under cover. As we worked in that screaming wind we noticed more than one tiny bedraggled siskin huddling under pieces of firewood, feathers soaked, desperate to get out of the piercing wind that slapped icy water onto their wee little bodies. I could have cried. But we did what we could and had to let “good ole Mother Nature” do what she does best – kill off the weak. Survival of the fittest is hard to watch sometimes.

I took two quick videos of the storm from the deck of our house. In the onslaught of the wind and rain, I kept pressing the wrong button to stop the video and as I lowered the camera I caught an ugly picture of my slippers and an empty flowerpot. Not Academy Award film quality, but you’ll get an idea of the force of the storm. What you won’t see are some of the gusts that were way more violent than what I captured here.

If you turn on the sound, you’ll hear only the music of nature.

Today the birdfeeders are empty again. I’m refilling them a lot but if it will help some birds survive, I will keep on filling them as often as needed.

These little birds make me happy all year, so I want to do what I can to help them out when they need it.

No poem today. I’m too unhappy about watching them suffering yesterday.


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Windblown, but not Sun-tanned

When I was a child I really liked a song by Cole Porter. It was called “True Love,” sung by Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly. I was too young in 1956 to be a fan of these oldies, but the song was around much later and I always liked it.

It goes like this:

Sun-tanned, windblown, 
Honeymooners at last alone,
Feeling far above par,
Oh, how lucky we are.

While I give to you
And you give to me,
True love, true love.
So on and on it will always be,
True love, true love.

For you and I 
Have a guardian angel on high
With nothing to do,
But to give to you
And to give to me,
Love forever true.
 

If you don’t want to watch the 50s style banter of the movie, “High Society,” just advance the video to about 1:06 to hear the beautiful old love song, “True Love.”

You don’t have to be Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly to be in love. Just look at these pigeon guillemots, resting on the bow of the MV Eden Lake off the west coast of the Queen Charlotte Islands. They are also in love, just resting for a while, and whispering “sweet nothin’s” to each other.

Fast forward to Anneli’s place on Vancouver Island. The last of 2020 is going out “big and ugly.” One of the trees outside my window is leaning and would have fallen except that a bigger tree-friend caught it.

It’s a winter storm to match the one we had in mid-November. Blinding rain blowing sideways.

But, like Covid, it can’t go on forever. Better times await us in 2021.

All the best to you my blogging friends. May we all have a great year ahead.

And love will prevail.

 


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Christmas Acrostic

Merry Christmas!

My effort at a double acrostic forced me to forego the rhyme factor, but I’ve tried to put together a Christmas message, using the first and last letters, read downwards. If we keep these things in mind, maybe we’ll help to improve someone’s life just a little bit.

And before you ask, no, it didn’t snow here, except up in the hills. This varied thrush visited the feeder a couple of years ago, but he looked so pretty on the snow, I wanted to put him in this post.

Knowing Yule is cominG,
It's time to trim the treE,
Now that I am senior, and the claN,
Depends on mE.
Need to fill the lardeR,
Extra goodie-food will be, sO,
Special in the coming dayS,
So smile and so will I.  
(Yikes! Where's the rhyme? Gone to the North Pole.)
And when it comes to Christmas nighT,
No stores will open staY,
Done with shopping, all's class A,
Good times at home remaiN.
If Christmas music fills our minD,
Vast troubles leave us alL,
In giving freely, as we dO
No need for price on luV.
Good will's enough and that is freE.

Ta-dah-dahdah-deedee.
Merry Christmas even without snow.
Ho-ho-h-h-h-h! I think I see Santa!

Y’all have a wonderful Christmas time, y’hear?

And don’t pay too much attention to what those birds say. Their jabbering is for the birds.


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The Jolly Holly

Same old holly berries, same old food. Where’s a juicy earthworm when you need one?

Sigh…. Well, there’s nothing to do but to go for it. Hmm … let’s see … I wonder if they all taste the same.

I don’t have teeth, so I guess I just have to swallow the thing whole. Not very ladylike, but here goes. Gulp!

Oh man! These are big enough to choke a horse. Good thing I’m not a horse. Do I look like a Christmas decoration?

This is the last one … OOPS! Just about fell off my perch. I guess that means I’ve had enough.

Have you tasted holly berries?
Oh, of course, you did.
Little ones, and
Luscious ones,
You're sitting right amid.
But it is best if you're a bird, as
Everyone does know,
Red is pretty
Red is ripe
Yet stomach aches can grow.


So snag the berries off the branch,
Nab that one by your feet,
And after tasting, 
Can you tell,
Keen as you are to eat?

"These berries certainly are great,"
I heard the robin say,
"Mushy, minty, maybe I'll 
Eat all I can today."

If you’ve managed to get through my little rhyme, you may have noticed that the first letters of each line, read downwards, give a little message. Do you see it?

If you would like to have a quick review of some apostrophe problems many people have (and many don’t even know it), please have a look at my latest writing tips on my other blog, anneli’s place. https://annelisplace.wordpress.com/