Well, I’ve landed here, high up in a fir tree. Mom said it’s pretty safe and I should wait for her here.
But uh-oh. Do I hear a raven? Or is it a crow? Either way, they can be a real pain when they harass us. No wonder they call them a murder of crows when they get into a gang.
Whew! They’ve passed over. Time for a quick preening while I have the chance.
Those darn bugs. The second I sit in a tree, they get on me. Oh well, I had to straighten out my feathers anyway after that rough landing in these branches. But Mom said it’s safer here than out in the open where the eagles can see me.
Oh no! Is that an eagle up there? Mom said if they come after me, all I have to do is fly way up high in circles and keep going higher and higher, and after a while the eagles can’t keep up. They’re heavier than we are and can’t go as high.
Looks like they passed over. I hope Mom hurries up. I’m getting nervous up here.
Pronghorns are not really antelopes. They are related more closely to giraffes and okapis. I’m not big on trophy hunting, but I took this photo at the home of someone who is, and I find it useful to show what a pronghorn looks like up close. Apologies to the non-hunters. I have mixed feeling about the whole thing, but it’s not the purpose of this post to start a discussion of the topic of hunting. It is a natural thing for animals (including man) to hunt for food, but nowadays we let someone else do the killing for us. I like my steak once in a while, just as most people do, and yet I cry if I see an animal get hurt. So where’s the logic in that? And to be fair, the person who shot this pronghorn most likely ate the meat the way we eat beef.
As you can see, they have horns with a prong on them, but they don’t bother anyone unless they are desperate or trapped, perhaps up against a fence that they don’t like to jump. They prefer to crawl under fences, but that slows them down in their attempt to escape predators such as coyotes.
If necessary, they can run at close to 90 miles per hour for a short distance, but around 60 mph for a prolonged run. Since they are, otherwise, rather defenseless, it’s a good thing they are considered North America’s fastest land animal.
These pronghorns happened to be near a pullout on the highway in eastern Montana. I got a couple of quick photos but they didn’t want to hang around or come closer for a better picture.
Oh, good grief, those squirrels are such messy eaters.
What do you think I should do? Such a mess!
It even spilled over the edge of the table!
I’ll just take this one sunflower seed. I wouldn’t want anyone to see me here and think it was me who made this mess!
Uh-ohhhh! The Steller’s jay is at my dining room table.
I have to hide these nuts I just got off the hazelnut tree.
That’s good. I’ll push it down with my nose. I still have one nut for my lunch. Think I’ll eat it now before that jay finds it. They are such thieves!
First, to get the shell off. Good thing I have really sharp teeth. I tried them out on Anneli’s thumb one time. I felt bad later, but what does she think? I need to be fed?
Oh, yes, now this is looking better. The shell is off and I’ve worked up an appetite.
Can’t wait to bite into this hazelnut!
I found a new place to eat. As you can see, I’ve switched to walnuts. They’re not so messy. But I still have to keep an eye out for those jays. I think I’ll have a quick bite, and then take the rest to my secret stash deep in the wood shed.
Life is never easy. You always have to be on your toes and have an alternate plan in case something goes wrong.
Did you know that the Sydney Opera House (in Australia) is a UNESCO World Heritage site? It is located on Bennelong Point overlooking Sydney Harbour and is known, among other things, for its “unparalleled design and construction.” UNESCO, in case you don’t know what all those initials stand for, is the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization. The idea is that sites included as World Heritage Sites are meant to be protected by participating countries, in hopes of preserving their unique and wondrous qualities.
Some other UNESCO World Heritage sites are the pyramids, the Acropolis, temples in the Angkor area in Cambodia, Pisa, the Colosseum, and there are many others.
Danish designer, Jorn Utzon, won the international competition for the design of the Sydney Opera House in 1957, but the construction of the building had many problems, not necessarily his fault.
Those sail-like structures, when seen from a different angle, are a bit like scoops or ears. Made of concrete, they, alone, would be a challenge to build. The building is supported by 588 concrete piers, sunk as much as 82 feet below sea level. The specs are amazing and if you’re interested in finding out more, check out Sydney Opera House on Wikipedia.
The Sydney Opera House was not completed until 1973. On October 20th of that year, it was officially opened by Queen Elizabeth ll.
My friend who provided this photo, taken from one of the ferries in Sydney Harbour, attended a recent performance of Antonin Dvorak’s opera Rusalka. I immediately thought of one of my favourite arias of that opera, The Song to the Moon, but my version had a singer from many days gone by performing it. In this recent presentation, the soprano who sang that aria was Nicole Car. If you would like to hear her sing, please check out this youtube link. I hope you enjoy it. I did.
The squirrels have been harvesting hazelnuts from the trees and hiding them to be retrieved in the winter.
Along comes Woodrow the Woodpecker, innocently looking for bugs.
Ronald Rabbit knows the squirrels wouldn’t like their stash to be unearthed, but, “What to do? What to do?”
“Mind your own business, Ronald,” says Woodrow. “That’s “What to do’!”
“I’m telling,” shouts Ronald. “The people will let their dog out and then you’ll be sorry.” Meanwhile, I have one leg raised and ready to make a run for it.
“Look out, you guys! Here I come. And don’t forget! I may be a teddy bear in the house, but I’m a wolverine in the field.”
“Are you serious?” Woodrow calls to Ronald. “Now that the dog is out, we’ll all have to make a run for it.”
“Aw, do what you want. I’m going up here to higher ground and — oh! What have we here? A hole in the tree. Anybody home?”
And so life goes on … unless you’re a bug in that tree.
It will soon be back-to-school time, and I was remembering my very first day of school in grade one.
My dad took this picture of me that day. It was just a few weeks before we left Germany to come to Canada. I hated my hairdo then and I hated it for many years until I was allowed to have it a little bit longer so it didn’t look so chopped off.
But anyway, it’s not about my hair. It’s about this big cone. Too bad the photo is only black and white. The wrapping on the cone was so pretty. This big decorated cardboard cone is bribery, I suppose. All grade one students get one of these on the first day of school as an incentive to be brave. If you go to school without a fuss on the first day of grade one, you get this cone that is filled with goodies. My mom, who is peeking out the window to watch this memorable moment, allowed me a quick peek into my cone. I remember that it had some of that packing straw in it with a big chocolate bar under it and a bunch of grapes on top of it. Probably there were other goodies lower down, but at first glance I could only see the few things right on the top, and I wasn’t allowed to do any more peeking after that first quick look.
The rule was, you couldn’t indulge until you came home after school. As it turned out, it was a pretty good day, and I loved school every day after that, even if we didn’t get a cone full of goodies after that first day.
My left hand gives away how I felt that morning before going to school. It’s in a fist. Just a bit of tension there.
Thirteen years earlier, my older sister, Hanna, went through the same thing. Here she is with her “first day of school” cone. Like me, she had a leather schoolbag over her shoulder and I’m sure she felt every bit as important as I did on my first day. She seems a lot more relaxed than I was though.
I think it would be fun to have this tradition for first graders in Canada, but I don’t suppose that’s likely to happen. I just remember that it made an intimidating day into one of happy anticipation.
This post is inspired by those beautiful photos on Lynette’s blog where she often showcases the lakes to the north and south of Penticton, B.C. (Okanagan Lake and Skaha Lake). Please visit her blog by clicking on the link at the end of this post.
On one of Lynette’s posts I told her that the kids in my class threw me into Okanagan Lake and I promised I’d post the photo if I could find it.
Well, it’s not flattering. I look like a drowned rat, but you can see from the look on the kids’ faces that they loved every minute of it.
It was an end-of-the-school-year picnic on Okanagan Lake and I had the help of a few of the parents to supervise and make sure no one got into trouble at the lake. I should have hired someone to save me from getting into trouble myself.
I had such a lovely class and we had a great picnic and games by the beach. But then I heard someone whisper a call for rebellion.
“Let’s throw the teacher into the lake!”
I looked for the parent helpers who suddenly were nowhere to be seen. Next thing I knew, four of my little angels had hold of my limbs, an arm or a leg each, and swung me back and forth. I heard them shouting through my squeals, “One! Two! Three! HEAVE!”
And “Splash!” That’s all she wrote.
I still remember shy little Maureen, grinning like crazy. I think it was her mother who took my picture to immortalize the drowned rat who was her child’s teacher.
That was decades ago, but I remember that splash like it was yesterday.
It’s lucky for those little eight- and nine-year-olds that I loved them all so much.
These king parrots seem to tolerate the two crimson rosellas at the left of the photo (sent by Leslie from Australia). I’m not sure what would happen if there were a shortage of seeds on those brick pavers, but as long as there is enough for everyone, there doesn’t seem to be a problem sharing.
wordsfromanneli 