Butter-butts

Winter tends to be a little slow around my back yard. Pigeons and Mourning Doves tend to dominate the landscape as well as the feeders. I feel silly paying top dollar for black oil sunflower seeds just to have them devoured in 20 minutes by a flock of unruly pigeons, but I do it nonetheless.

Last year I had one single Yellow-rumped Warbler that would stop by occasionally and visit my suet feeder. I assumed it was just one individual bird because I never saw more than one at a time. Who knows, maybe Butter-butts just have really good buffet-line manners and they were taking turns.

Anyway, this year word seems to have gotten around to the rest of the warblers that I serve a mean breakfast, because by 8:00 a.m. these days I have no less that 7 or 8 of them flitting about and generally just annoying the larger birds.

They're joined occasionally by a House Finch and a few American Goldfinches.


The Bluebirds are still hanging around too. That box is one that I made and gave to our neighbors. The birds check it out regularly, hopefully they'll nest there next Spring.

You weren't trying to sleep, were you?

This is the sight I came home to this afternoon. Nothing says "Welcome Home" like a big pile of old shingles, eh?

We've been trying to get our roof replaced for some time now. Actually, we had the work scheduled to be done on the day we had Mason, but the weather didn't cooperate. So, instead of roofers hammering incessantly on an empty domicile, they hammered today on an occupied one. And they jumped. And they threw stuff. And they shoveled, and yelled, and ate lunch. Hey, at least they picked a nice day to get the work done. Carolina blue skies, mid '50's . . can't beat it.

When I asked the company's representative if we'd need to keep our cars out of the driveway to make room for his dumpster, he said "No, we'll just put it out on the street so you can park in the driveway." Apparently the crew didn't get that memo.


I'll be interested to see the condition of my lawn tomorrow morning. They left after the sun went down this afternoon, so I could not survey their work. Mandi laid down the law though. "If it ain't clean," she said, "they don't get their check." Preach on sister! I'm not so much concerned about the big stuff, such as those adorning these bushes. I'm more worried about the six thousand old nails I'm sure to find in the yard getting accidentally lodged into the sole of some non-shoe-wearing 8-year-old I know. Perhaps a quick glance at the status of her tetanus booster is in order . .

The guys on the crew seemed pretty good, although what would I know. They didn't accost Mandi before I got home, they didn't park 18 low-riders in front of the house while they did their work, and they did not utter any Spanish profanities when I came outside to take pictures. Yeah, I know them all . . I did work in restaurants, remember? All they said, as I took this last shot, was "Otro, otro!" Apparently they wanted me to take more pictures. I figured one was enough.

Remember doing this?

I have a lot of memories from my childhood. Some are vivid, some are vague. Not surprisingly it's the memories that not only have pictures associated with them, but smells, sounds, tastes, and tactile sensations that tend to stand out.

I've said before that Fall is my favorite season of the year. Largely, that's because it suits who I am today. I don't think I've ever really thought about it in these terms, but many of my best and most vivid childhood memories are from the fall as well. I remember walking through the cemetery next to my grandparents' house in Pittsburgh in the fall, climbing leafless trees and coming back and throwing a football in their back yard with my dad. I remember Fall camping trips with my aunts, uncles and cousins. Most of all, I remember raking huge piles of fallen maple leaves in my friend Chris' front yard and then running down the hill to jump in them. Rake, run, repeat. I can't imagine anything I would have chosen to do instead had there been leaves available for collecting.

I imagine this might have been something like what we looked like all those years ago on Highland Avenue.



I love the fact that my kids choose to go outside and play. They weren't at Mandi's grandmother's house more than 10 minutes yesterday before they started clamoring to go outside and play. Everything seems a little bit more right in the world when kids choose to go pick flowers and run around when there's a perfectly good TV inside to watch. Kids come together in the outdoors. All the things that make them incompatible with each other when they're inside the four walls of a house seem to disappear when they step outside.



Avery and I went camping overnight Saturday too. The battery in my camera conked out after about an hour, so there aren't a ton of pictures to share. Sunday, after everyone else had gone home, we spent a few hours hiking around the park and just enjoying the beautiful Fall day. I really don't like cliches, but Avery is really in her element outside in the elements. We picked berries, wondered about fallen trees, scavenged for wild pecans, and generally just enjoyed our time together. This picture pretty much sums it all up . . Avery, in her pajamas and a warm coat, halfway up a tree.


And we got this Fall fun in just in the nick of time . . tomorrow's forecast high temperature is in the mid-40's. Yikes . . I guess I won't be wearing shorts to work.

Look What I Found

This is an accidental post. I was looking through old digital photos, trying to find one in particular. I didn't find it, but I did find this one.


Isn't it funny how some things change so much while others don't change at all.

It's Rare When Everyone Cooperates

Today, for the first time in a month, I slept in. Many of you would not consider 7:30 a.m. "sleeping in", but when 5:00 is the norm, anything post-dawn seems like bliss. The downside to the extra z's, this morning, was that by the time I got downstairs all of the coffee was gone. My plan was to head down to the nature trail and take a nice long walk with the camera and just see what I could see.

Not willing to eschew my daily caffeine, I decided a splurge at our local Starbucks was in order. As I made my way down the road to the grocery store where the Starbucks resides, I noticed this pair of Red-tailed Hawks hanging out in what is either a sweet gum or a persimmon tree. Way to narrow it down, eh? Anyway, their perch was down at the Southeast end of the trail, and their presence, I hoped, would be an omen for a very birdie morning.


Because I don't want to make what already promises to be a longish post all that much longer, I'll spare you the circumstances that prevented me from starting my walk on time. Suffice it to say that 2+ hours later and with Mason in tow, I embarked on my journey. I encourage you to click on and enlarge any of the photos. Well, except the ones of the stroller, that would just be gratuitous.


Since I took the pictures of it and everything, now seems like a fine time to introduce you to the latest and greatest addition to our growing family of strollers. Stroller number 5 in our collection (please, please don't ask) is a BOB Revolution. It's chocolate brown and blue, and it's very nice. It had better be, for the price tag. Anyway, this was its maiden voyage. Mason was very comfortable riding in the BOB, so much so that he spent almost the entire walk fast asleep. The BOB's front wheel can be set to swivel, making for a really effortless walk on the road and/or sidewalk, or it can be locked in place for more rough terrain like the nature trail. The car seat adapter works seamlessly and keeps Mason in a perfect posture. Thankfully my unannounced decision to "break 'er in" did not anger Mandi . . at least not outwardly. She's wanted a "good" jogging stroller for some time, but given her current non-jogging state of being I felt it acceptable to put this latest acquisition to work. To quote Cousin Eddie from Christmas Vacation, "It's a good lookin' vehicle, ain't it?"

Anyway, enough about that nonsense, let's talk about birds. Today I did not take the binoculars with me on my walk. My purpose was singular, to get some good photos of the birds that spend regular time on the nature trail this time of year. Whatever else I happened to capture would just be a bonus. My first subject of the day, as is customary, was a Northern Mockingbird. He was quietly mimicking one of the countless Song Sparrows that were flitting about in the brush below his tree.

A few hundred yards or so further down the trail and I got a glimpse of a soaring Red-tailed Hawk. There was another one close by, and because I was in the vicinity of the tree where the pair of red-tails was perched hours before, I assumed they were the same birds.


A good percentage of the plants and trees have finished shedding their leaves and summer colors, making the few remaining spots of color even more brilliant.


These berries won't be long for this world with the throngs of Mockingbirds that are still hanging around.

Hey, Mr. Cooper's Hawk, if you're really hungry I can take you to a big flock of pigeons that hang out on the top of my house.

I think these are sweet gum trees, although I could be completely wrong. Whatever they are, isn't the color pattern on them amazing? The leaves at the top are such a deep burgundy, which fades into a bright red and then a brilliant yellow at the bottom. There were literally dozens of them along the entire length of the trail.


Aren't teenagers great?

With Mason asleep in the BOB I took the opportunity to walk over to one of the few clearings in the trees and take a look down toward the bank of the river. At first I didn't see anything and I almost walked away, but then I heard something I didn't recognize. It wasn't a bird calling or singing, but rather the sound of beating wings. Certain birds, like pigeons, Mourning Doves, and hummingbirds have "signature" sounds associated with their beating wings. This, however was none of those. It almost sounded like a distant helicopter, but faster. I looked and looked and still saw nothing. Then, as if out of nowhere, he was there staring up at me. In all it was a group of about twelve Cedar Waxwings, drinking from the river and turning over leaves to eat what waited beneath. These are one of my favorite birds.



You can't see his face in this photo, but this Eastern Bluebird was happy to pose for a picture today. This tree is a favorite spot for them and the mockingbirds. For those not versed, behind him is what's known as a "Carolina Blue" sky.


I really like these cattails. There are 5 or 6 different really large stands of them throughout the trail in the wetland areas. A nice stiff breeze blew the seeds out of some of them and it almost looked like a snow storm.

A little pishing and the throngs of Song Sparrows taking cover at the bottom of the cattails would hop around and eventually perch atop one of them, usually posing long enough for a photo.

There were quite a few other families out walking the trail today. I can't say that I blame them, as the conditions were perfect. 62 degrees, no humidity, and only a few wispy scattered clouds. An impeccable Fall day in the Carolinas.

If you look closely in the middle of this next shot you'll see what I am assuming is a Red-tailed Hawk keeping watch over one of the ponds. He flew out a number of times to readjust his perch, but I never saw him go after prey. If anyone wants to challenge my ID I'm open to suggestions . . this isn't where I'd expect to see a Red-tail, more likely the habitat of a Cooper's.

Like this one, which was flying overhead very close to where the one above was perched.


Further down, these 2 dogs announced their discontent with my presence. That, or maybe they were just saying "hi" in their loudest, most voracious voice.


The Great Blue Heron that frequents the trail made an appearance. He posed nicely for close-ups.

Another bush covered with surprisingly not-yet-eaten berries. I'm sure it won't be long.

Another Song Sparrow decided to pose for me . . it's so unusual for so many birds to cooperate like they were today. Maybe they liked the BOB!

I thought it odd that I didn't see a single Ruby-crowned Kinglet at any point on the trail, as the last time I went down there they were ubiquitous. Mason, BOB, and I ascended the hill at the end of the trail started up the sidewalk toward home. Then, at the end of the fence, in the farthest corner of the area I'd consider part of the trail, I saw a tiny bird flitting about in a tree. We paused, he posed, and I shot.

I couldn't pass up this shot of this gorgeous Golden Retriever, relaxing lazily in the afternoon sun. He took notice of us, rose up to this posture so I could get the shot, and then promptly lay back down for his nap. He picked a great day for it.

Back To What's Important

Sometimes, like right after he eats, Mason likes to pose for picures. As he's drifting off to sleep a wry little smile will creep over his face. Capturing the exact moment is difficult, but this is pretty close.

Ten tiny toes, all lined up in a row. Try to do this with your feet . . hurts my groin muscles just thinking about it!

Delerium, especially that caused by lack of sleep due to caring for a new baby, can make almost any nickname sound cute and appropriate. While most of Mason's nicknames are just generic baby stuff, I called him by one the other day that Mandi really didn't care for. I explained where it came from and why I thought of it and she was still underwhelmed. I figured I'd just let it go. Then, this afternoon, I was caught off guard when as she finished feeding him she looked down at his little half-open mouth with the milk moustache and said, "Did you get enough to eat Milquetoast?"

"Ah ha!!! You do like that nickname after all!"

"I just kinda couldn't help it when I saw his milky little mouth," she replied.

"I think it's perfect," I said, "except for that whole based-on-a-cartoon-cockroach thing."

For those not familiar, Milquetoast is the loveable cockroach in the Opus and Bloom County comic strips. I know, it's random and vague, but that's part of it's appeal to me. It's not really mainstream, which means nobody else will have it, and not everyone will get it. Perfect! This is kinda what his milk face looks like.


The next picture was just funny. I call this the "Fitch", after my grandfather. My sisters used to give him crap all the time because he'd use his middle finger to point, instead of his index finger. I have no idea why he did that, but it's a lasting memory.


And finally, I call this one the "Daddy, I'm trying to take a nap, can you please knock it off with the bright flashes!" look. I imagine this won't be the last time I get that look.

Why Him?

This will be the only political post I ever do on this blog . . I promise. Can I just tell you how effing glad I am that this election season is nearly over? Oy . . .

I've had countless discussions with people from various different political viewpoints over the last 8 months, and while none of the opposing viewpoints I've heard was good enough to change my mind, at the end of the day I really couldn't begrudge most folks their opinions. A really good friend once told me "Bread (my nickname, short for Cornbread . . don't ask), just because you're right, which you usually are, that doesn't give you the right to go around telling everybody else they're wrong." Whether or not he was right, it just kinda stuck with me. I find that most people have made up their minds about this election long before they started talking to me, and I don't have the energy to try to sway them. The following two opinions are no different, although I have to say they're two of the worst reasons I've heard so far, and it just so happened that I heard them both today (within ten minutes of one another).

Democratic voter #1, who shall remain nameless, is a 20-something white female, single, working and going to school. I have no idea who supports her, whether it's her parents or herself. She's known to be one of only 2 Obama supporters in the office, and as one of the youngest people there we conservatives tend to playfully gang up on her from time to time. Today, for instance, we forwarded all of the robo-calls that came in to the office lines to her extension. It really wasn't nice. Anyway, for whatever reason I decided to press her on her affiliation. The following is a close approximation of the conversation.

Me: Why is it that you think the government should decide where to send the money I earn?

Her: Well, some people just can't afford everything, you know? Why should some people get paid millions of dollars to play a sport, like basketball, when somebody like you or me can't afford day care for our kids?

Me: /head scratch\ So the Bobcats should pay for your day care? Why? What did you do for them?

Her: No, I'm just saying, when somebody gets paid that much money, they should spread it around a little bit so everybody else has it a little easier?

Me: But where does it stop? There are people who make less than you, you know? Should the government take some of your ten dollars an hour and dole it out to those who make less? After all, you get paid all that money just to watch kids.

Her: No, I need all of my money, but somebody who gets millions of dollars a year to play basketball could afford to have less.

Me: But why should they accept that? They wouldn't make that much if the public didn't support that pay structure in their profession. We buy the tickets and watch the ads, they earn what they negotiate. Couldn't somebody just as easily say that you shouldn't even get paid to watch kids, as it's something other people would happily just do for free?

Her: No, that's different.

Me: No, I'm sorry, it's really not. I appreciate you making my argument for me, that was really a lot easier than me having to do it for myself.

The next encounter was with a black woman, probably in her early 30's. She's a hard-working professional mother and wife and a very nice woman, but overall not the sharpest blade on the mower. When we (the group of conservatives that was chatting over lunch) asked her who she would be voting for, the conversation was quite a bit shorter than the first.

Us: Hey, name left out to protect the innocent, who are you voting for?

Her: Honey I done already voted!

Us: Who'd you vote for?

Her: Umm, hello, I'm black, who do you think I voted for?

Ugh.

One of two things was being implied here. First there's the possibility she really feels that as a black woman (I hate the term African American) she has some sort of over-riding obligation to vote for a black candidate regardless of his or her views. If that's the case here (or anywhere), then that is the strongest case anyone can possibly make against programs like Affirmative Action (or at least our modern-day version of it). Essentially this shows the that the relationship many of us are afraid will develop between the public and a far-left leaning President is already existent today. Namely, if people feel like they owe their success (and well-being, and opportunity, etc.) to a certain group or type of politicians, then they'll blindly line up to vote for them and perpetuate their own self-devaluing. They put more importance on this show of loyalty than they do on their own ability to think through the issues and make a decision on their own, leading to an almost cult-like following and belief in a candidate or party. If this is what this woman was implying, then we are indeed fighting to save the identity of our national government.

Or, there's the other possibility, which is that we white folks should just assume that all black people are voting for Obama . This disturbed me, and I actually told her that it insulted me that she was implying that I could make some sort of assumption about her choice of candidate based solely on the color of her skin. If that was her implication, then there's only one racist among the two of us, and it wasn't the one in the Vandy hat. "How dare she?", I thought. Well, she dares because only one of us is allowed to pull the race card in a situation such as this, and again, it wasn't the one in the Vandy hat.

So that's where this political discussion will leave off . . with me frustrated with the dynamic in our country more so than with the actual issues themselves. I honestly feel like what goes on in Washington has almost no bearing on my life. Down the road when we're investing and trying to build wealth I might feel differently, but for now there's very little chance of some new President making my life all that difficult. Don't get me wrong, there's a big difference between the two ideologically, but how much of that rubber actually meets the road here in North Carolina is likely to be insignificant at best. Either way, I feel obliged to leave you with this last image. If you haven't already, get your ass out there and vote tomorrow. It's the only chance you have to validate your complaints when things don't go your way!