Corridors

 

Maybe you remember days when you were shorter. When Henry Huggins was a hero and Ramona and Beezus were good friends.

When school was spaghetti in the lunchroom that you could smell all through the hungry mornings, as the scent wafted through the corridors of whatever school you attended, and mingled with the smells of ripe sneakers and blackboard chalk.

Maybe you remember too the alarms that rang out over the loudspeaker system that brought the principal’s voice into your classroom every morning somewhere between roll call and the Pledge of Allegiance.

Or maybe it came in the form of the bells in the hall.

And maybe you remember trooping out of your classroom to stand facing the corridor walls, rows upon rows of young girls and boys, awash in terror laced with ennui, hands crossed behind their necks.

If you went to school with me it was the lovely tile-lined walls of what is now one of the county buildings, but was then an elementary school, that you stared at. The scent of impending lunch was all too often tempered by the threat of looming war.

I'm sure those bomb drills of childhood were as futile as they were frightening, but last midnight when Google saw fit to awaken me with the announcement that new time zones were available to me….as if one wasn’t enough for me to sleep in….I remembered those long ago days....probably because the events we are seeing remind me of them, and not in a good way. 

Coleslaw

 

So, yesterday our good friend took me back to Fort Edward Grasslands. We had a fantastic time and saw a number of Northern Harriers, Rough-legged Hawks, a cute little American Kestrel, and assorted others. I highly recommend the area for a great birding adventure.

At the last edge of golden-orange dusk, the sky as clear as polished glass, we found a trio of Short-eared Owls, floating and fluttering above the tangled grassland. We even heard them calling.

Home again in darkness to sleep and dream of birds.

And what a weird one it was. Back hunting owls, but in a twisted dreamscape of farms and fields from childhood. Babysitting for a little boy…very little. All of us put in the back of a police car for some reason, known only to the LEO, who didn’t believe that we were just lurking after birds. After all, our phones were cool (as in temperature) and your phone gets hot when you bird. (Actually been known to happen….)

We were taken to a place where we saw dozens of owls everywhere, plus two ostriches in a fence yard near the road.

Suddenly had to change the little one's diaper. It was a bad one.

As I did so, in the distance, we heard someone calling, “Coleslaw! Coleslaw!”

Were they calling a dog with a brassica sort of name or was dinner being served?

I’ll never know because I woke up then and went downstairs. The thermostat had stuck again and the stove was going full blast.

I turned it down and stepped outdoors to listen for Great-horned Owls.

No throaty hoots drifted down from the ridge behind the house, but a gritty snow was beginning to fall.

Sometimes I wonder about my brain.

Books

 

And the keeping of them.

I have for the past mebbe 20 years or so done the books on an old Windows 95 computer. Our late bookkeeper (and beloved friend) set me up with Quick Books, taught me how to use the program, checked my work and did my reports for me for years.

When we lost her I did the best I could by myself. It wasn't great, but it was done. At first we took the result to a local accountant who worked with my late friend. He was terrific, as were his employees. Then he retired, they left the company, and I was on my own.

For the past two years we have taken what I came up with to another friend who is a tax wizard. She has made some sort of sense of my fumbling efforts and got 'er done.

However, each year that poor old computer has failed a little worse. Last year it ate a lot of stuff and I had to do it over, and with 20 some years of work on it, a lot of it done without my friend's oversight, there were some terrible, unfixable, mistakes on it.

This year with much trepidation I turned it on again. Found out that some of the trouble I had with it was because the old wired mouse was half dead.

Alas, though, when I opened QB three months of debit transactions were gone. The deposits were still there, as were the transfers, but nothing else.

And it wouldn't restore from backup.

So I found a free bookkeeping program online and am trying to get ready to do taxes with that. It doesn't understand that a lot of farmers use the same checking account for business and family, but I am breaking it out the best I can.

Meanwhile, yet another of Liz's ewes has lambed in a HellStorm. Twins are in the house and the dog is going nuts, while the wind screams around the rafters and drafts snake all around the rooms.

I am giving up for today, having gotten backwards to September with one of four accounts.

Better days are coming it says here in fine print. Not sure I believe it though. At least I got a good FOY bird today, a Brown Creeper at Yankee Hill, as well as refinding our neighborhood Great Scaup for the Hudson Mohawk winter species count.

It's the little things....

Wanted

 

For stealing lamb milk replacer out of the bag in the kitchen.

When asked at the crime scene, "Was it worth it?", he replied gleefully ......

"Oh, yes, yes it was! It was indeed!"

Ironing

 I grew up with ironing, a pastime that shares some letters with Iron Maiden, as well as many aspects of similar torture. BITD, my grandmas rolled freshly sprinkled clothes in baskets, mixed up evil-smelling spray starch, and treated clothing to a good flattening by fire until shirt sleeves resembled products of the local lumber yard and were about as comfy to wear.

We were feral kids, running free on the old farm the folks rented for a while, wandering over to the playground several blocks away from the antique shop, or to the various grocery stores and candy shops for bubble gum and Nehi or Royal Palm and Pixie Stix. 

Not to mention getting up to other nefarious occupations, which are probably better left unmentioned. We were often grubby, and never well-dressed.

However, when we when to school or church we were expected to be primped, polished, and.....dum, da, dum, dum....ironed.

Since Mom worked many jobs that required that she be gone before the yellow metal tube with tires showed up in front of the house with a squeal of brakes, guess who was frequently elected.

Yep, you got it.

Let us start with the ironing board, a hellacious instrument of awful if there ever was one. I was never particularly mechanical, although I can hear an engine, transmission, or the belts on a piece of machinery, and tell you right away if lubricants, or tightening, or whatever other adjustments, are required. The boss often relied on me to be his virtual dipstick and save time when getting the 5088 to the field in the morning.....hey, wait a minute...that sounds kind of insulting, but I digress.

I had a terrible time setting up the ironing board though. Taking it down, was, and still is well beyond my comprehension. However, Mom wasn't there and my brother needed a freshly ironed shirt every day. Since I liked boy shirts...and still do...so did I some days. And ties. Ties had to be ironed as well.

There were burns and creases that refused to be ironed out, because they had after all, been ironed in. There were rules. Unplug, set in a safe place, avoid at all costs while racing into hot-smelling, tidy-looking clothing that would probably be wrinkled beyond recognition before the bus pulled into the parking lot in town.

And then there was the time Mom was home and ironing frantically to get us ready for school. We were living in that tiny gas station in Auriesville, where there wasn't room to swing a cat as they used to say, let alone prepare two kids for school while a toddler of around two hustled around getting into trouble.

A Bobwhite Quail began calling down by the creek. I raced over to the window to hear better and maybe see....yeah, I was bird crazy even then. The iron was cooling on the board by said window and I managed to tip it over against my summer-bare upper arm.

The burn was impressive and long-lasting. As is the memory of same. However, kids did NOT miss school for something as trivial as a four-by-one inch crimson gouge that blistered almost instantly.

Heck no. Rub a little dirt on it and walk it off.

I have had perhaps six or seven instances of needing to iron since we moved up here to the farm. I am, not surprisingly, very careful with the iron.

However, I still can't get the board up or down without pinching my fingers. I will listen to your engine for you though, if you need me to.

I'd Gladly Pay you Tuesday

 

For a hamburger today....

Seems that is the story around here, through no one's fault, but discouraging all the same.

The things we look forward to the most end up shuffled aside by unavoidable delays, until it feels like a never ending weather report.

You know how it is. You look at the forecast, and although today, tomorrow, and the next day will be cold with wind and gloom and doom, the prophets are promising a day in the 40s next Tuesday. You grimace and figure that, as miserable as today's weather is, you can soldier through til Tuesday and it will probably be worth it.

Then they change the forecast. The forties melt away like icicles in June, until just more cruddy winter weather looms as far as the eye can see.

Believe it or not, when I started this post, they actually were promising a day in the 40s next week, but by the time I had typed this it was already backed down into the 30s. I'll bet by the time Tuesday rolls around we will be looking at either another named winter storm or single digit temperatures again.

I feel like Charlie Brown out in the yard while Lucy holds his football, except that it is too cold for football or much of anything else out there right now.

Now I will stop whining and drag on another layer of insulation against the sunrise frost

Stay warm, dear friends, stay warm. And for the love of Pete, I wish everybody would stay well for a couple of weeks too.

Remember

 

Heads Up Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza

 

This  story has been making the rounds of the bird groups and listservs and I thought you might need to know about it too. 

HPAI has been detected in both wild and domestic birds in the USA and Canada and we need to treat injured or ill birds accordingly.

Ugh. https://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/2015/3059/

Birds, Boibs, and Birbs

Northern Cardinal

With the recent harsh cold snap the ice is becoming more extensive and there are fewer geese and Mallards than earlier.

Bald Eagle

Recently though, we found several Northern Pintails, some Common Goldeneyes, and a single Canvasback. I know it won't be long until new ducks start showing up on the river every day.

Hairy Woodpecker

However, for now things are pretty dull on the bird front.

Rough-legged Hawk

Eastern Bluebird on our house. A whole flock showed up yesterday
and sat on all the buildings and flew all over the yard

Today we Honor

 

She who supplied me with a  gigantic stuffed flamingo that requires a human-sized chair all to himself to sit in my bedroom. Very fluffy, like a feather boa.

And very pink.

A not quite as large, but still substantial, blue, glittery, peacock with three poofy blue balls dangling from stems on his head...who also requires his own chair. Flamboyant much?

They hobnob happily there...

She who entertains with sharp, but hilarious wit, and keeps the music flowing. Finds little things to make others happy and supplies them quietly and without fanfare.

And all around very good person, Crazy Card Lady, really nice to everyone in over the top kindness and all the little things....

Happy Birthday, Becky, we love you very much!

Sunday Stills....Bundled

 

Why, yes, yes we are!

For more Sunday Stills....

Frozen Feathers

Just before the cold wave hit (or the balmy summer break to my friends in western states and Canada) we had a little ice storm. Here in the valley the ice wasn't stupendous, but it sure made a mess. What a job the boss has had keeping up the driveway!

Anyhow, when the Mourning Doves came in to the feeder that morning I noticed one that had a badly damaged tail. It had down feathers all clumped up and pulled out and stuck to it, and its big tail feathers were half pulled out and an awful mess.

At first I blamed the Cooper's Hawk that landed on Liz's car hood the other day...while she was sitting in it...Tufted Titmouse in its talons and hunger in its eyes. (I haven't seen her yet, but I know she's around. Every now and then all the birds either flee or freeze, hoping to escape her attentions. I don't blame them.)

Then I realized that several of the doves had similar damage, although none of them quite as severe, and all of them had ice all over their tails.

They must have frozen to the branches as they roosted and the ice formed. They seemed fine though and the same number has come in for the cracked corn every day since, but I wonder how many birds and other creatures were less fortunate.

It's just below zero this morning, a veritable heat wave for many of my friends, but I am going to add an extra cup of corn and sunflower seeds to the feeder this morning, as soon as it is light enough for me to see the ice, and stay inside when I can.

Stay warm, dear friends, stay warm. 

Sunday Stills...Resolutions

Horned Lark

I don't exactly do resolutions, having learned that I am going to fail every single time, no matter how desirable the results may be.

Oddly pigmented American Goldfinch
that has been hitting the feeders lately

However, I am always resolute about chasing more birds, and, given the opportunity, 2022 won't be any different. Almost 50 species in state already.

Normal colored Goldfinch

For more Sunday Stills.... 

A lousy photo, but this is a young Bald Eagle
being mobbed by a crow while it was strafing the ducks at
Schoharie Crossing the other day

The Fuzzy Green Pants

 

Been working off and on at the daunting task of cleaning out the folks' house. You can only do it just so long at any given time because of the myriad decisions needed. Toss, sell, or distribute among family? For every single thing we come across, and there are many things.

One day a couple of months ago we were going through clothes. I came upon a gigantic largish pair of fuzzy green polar fleece pants. My first inclination was to toss them in the bag for the clothing drop off. They are a Godawful color and kinda shapeless.

However, polar fleece is fine stuff. I looked at them and thought about days when we are lucky to get the temperature inside the house to fifty and shiver all day. Maybe I could shove them on over all my other stuff and enjoy life a little more..

So I brought them home, washed them, and tossed them in the office. The other day it was nasty cold in the house. East wind sucks the warmth right out of this place....brrrr. So I dug out those crazy pants and put them on to walk the dog. My torso froze out there in the shrieking wind.

My legs were utterly impervious to it.

So I used them as long johns under my sweats. It was a bit crowded as they are made of the heaviest of old fashioned polar fleece and it is thick.

However, I was warm all day even out in the weather.

Much to my amazement I love them and wish it was hygienic to wear them every day. Alas, cleanliness being adjacent to Godliness, they just came out of the washer....

Mom was always a talented seamstress. She made square dance outfits, authentic Scottish kilts and skirts, dress shirts for Dad, wonderful quilts, blankets, and anything that took her fancy.

It appears that she also made ugly green pants and I will be thanking her for them for a long time to come.

Sunday Stills....Still

 

Sorry I have been absent from Sunday Stills for so long. We have been so terribly ill that I barely crawled out of my chair for several weeks. Much better now, and back in the game.

 These were taken on a still and beautiful evening just a few weeks ago.

For more Sunday Stills.....