Driving down to Cobleskill, nearly nine last night. Had to pick Becky up after a late class (when will that girl learn to drive?) Alan was riding along to keep me company and we were enjoying each other thoroughly. He is a nice boy and very aware that his eighteenth birthday is Friday...and that the world will change for him and us real soon. As we passed the spot where Beck and I saw the screech owl the other day, I calmly mentioned, "Gee, we haven't seen any owls tonight. Usually we see a couple."
Not three hundred yards down the road we saw one alright. boy did we see it! It swooped right across the grill of the car, almost over the hood. It was close enough that we instinctively cringed backward and stomped on the floor...me on the brake, him on empty floor mat and an imaginary clutch (he is used to his five speed truck). Despite the fraction of a second that we saw it and the gasp factor, I did get to see what it was. A barred owl, all fluff and stripes. It looked big as a turkey from where I was sitting. If it had extended one feather even an inch it would have touched the car. I like owls, but I will not ask so carelessly again.
Sunday morning...I get to sit in my Sunday chair and read a Dean Koontz book, which gave me nightmares last night. (You can kill wild pigs with a Swiss Army knife you know...if you always carry one...if three of them have your husband down on the ground savaging him...if only in your dreams.) It is on the opposite side of the house from the bird feeders, but the birds are bringing all the drama of their lives right to me. First a phalanx of pigeons swoops by, blown sideways by the wind. They look anxiously in through the window, all facing me, all unable to fly forward as the wind tosses them around. I hate what they do to the roof of the steeple, but they sure are beautiful fliers.
Then a crow drives a red tailed hawk right past and down to the road, dive bombing his back, bringing him so near I can see the fluffy, white feathers around his tail. It seems strange that the much larger bird is so harried by the smaller, but that is always how it goes. If I were red tail I would just eat crow.
Next two chickadees bounce off the window fighting over a wasp's nest. If I didn't already love chickadees this wasp eating thing of theirs would endear them to me. Our monster huge wooden house is always festooned with all sorts of nests of stinging insects. This time of year the chickadees hunt them out and eat the larvae they contain. (Since Liz is allergic to stings I cheer them on.) In a few minutes one of the combatants is back picking off the next to last nest on the big living room windows. I hope he comes back for the other one.
(File under "finally".) Seems as if everyone has seen robins but me and I have been feeling kind of left out. Usually making the run down to Cobleskill this time of year will provide one or two, but Liz and I took Becky down to school this morning and didn't see a one on the way in. Then we did a little grocery shopping as this weeks midriff is going to feature yet another winter storm and we were worse than overdue for stocking up. On the way up the mountains back to our colder and more wintry home we saw one...then two...then thirty...then at least a hundred.
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