Chickadee's Corner

An entry NOT for the faint of heart

2012-01-12T13:19:00.001-06:00

I'll begin this with a disclaimer. There will be photos of carnage and mayhem in this entry. That may be an exaggeration, but there is at least one gross photo, a photo depicting the food chain at work. Avert your eyes or skip this entry if you'd rather not see animal parts.

Okay.

I was out at the Ecology Center yesterday with a group of second graders discussing the subject of birds. Just right up my alley. We don't get many teachers who use our bird lesson plan (maybe 2 or 3 a year) so I was excited to be at the right place at the right time. This teacher has obviously spent some time covering this subject with the class because the kids were spot on with the knowledge and enthusiastic.

I had a group of 4 girls and 1 boy. The kids knew what a Cardinal was and were so excited seeing these birds that we kept track of the number we saw (we saw 25 by the end of their visit). We didn't have binoculars so that limited what we saw, but I discussed how to narrow down the list of birds based on their body shape (ie if the bird is big and somewhat plump, there's a pretty good it's a Robin and if it has a crest, it may be a Cardinal etc). While walking through the woods and near the creek, we talked about migration and habitat preferences (Would you see a duck on the prairie? Probably not. Those birds like the creek!).

As with most school visits at the Ecology Center, the focus rarely remains entirely on the assigned subject. There is so much to observe in our urban wilderness. We peeked under bug boards, discussed who could dig small round holes in the soil, collected a few walnuts, came across a praying mantis egg case, and looked at the square stems of a Cup Plant.

The north prairie was burned last week and I took them up a small hill to get a birds-eye view (hehe) of the burned land.

The concept of prescribed burns was new to these second graders so I spent a few minutes talking about the benefits of these burns for the plants, as well as the predators on top of the food chain.

When we went down the hill, we came across evidence of the food chain at work. We found bits of fur and bone scattered in a small radius.

They were silent for a moment before they started talking all at once.

"What IS that?"

"I think it must be raccoon or squirrel fur" I replied.

"What happened?"

"Well, what do you think? What would cause an explosion of fur and bone like this?"

"Ohhh something ate it!"

"Yeah, like a coyote or a fox or or a HAWK!!!"

The excited chatter continued until one of the girls pointed at something with her stick. "WHAT is THAT??"

This is when the little kid inside of me took over. I got down and started poking it with a stick, prompting one of the girls to squeal.

"I don't know but it's disgusting! That's awesome!" I exclaimed, turning the mystery piece of flesh over with the stick.

The same girl who squealed would not be outdone by my enthusiasm (either that or she took courage in it). She poked it and poop came out, eliciting a unanimous EWWWWW from the group.

"Oh my God you made it poop! How cool is that?" I exclaimed. "That must be a piece of intestine or something. I thought maybe it was a kidney. You guys are the best group ever!"

We spent another minute ohhing and ahhing over our gruesome find before advancing towards the burned prairie. There my kids identified Eastern Bluebirds and American Goldfinches using the field guide I brought along for use.

Kids correctly identifying birds and getting excited over gross stuff. I was so proud.

Rockin' Through the Shops

2011-12-29T15:41:00.000-06:00

Several years ago, my mom gave me a Rockin' Santa. He gyrates his hips to Brenda Lee's "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree." The whole production is a little loud and obnoxious, but I love the Santa so when I pull him out every year, I leave the plug in the basement. My husband HATES Rockin' Santa and twitches when he sees me bring the box up. Every year, we have the same conversation:

"UGH. You're bringing up Rocking Santa."

"I'm not going to plug him in. You know I leave that in the box."

"I don't care what you do. Just be sure to get that Rockin' Santa business out of your system before I get home from work."

"Whatever."

It's a joke really. I think Danno exaggerates his distaste because he knows it gets a rise out of me. Every year he rolls his eyes in disgust and every year I valiantly defend poor Santa.

This year I did a lot of shopping in Antique Stores and it seemed like there was a Rockin Santa every where I turned.

It started with this Santa

I was in the Antique Shop near my house and came across Cowboy Santa. I posted the pic on Facebook, to which my husband replied "HATE".

I found this Santa at an Antique Mall on top of a dresser crowded in with a lot of unrelated nick knacks for sale.

Then there was Saxophone Santa.

This was one smoooth looking Santa. At this point, I was LOOKING for these Santas so I could tease my husband. I loved his reactions. And when I posted the photo on Facebook, he did not disappoint. He replied "Is every antique mall required to have one of these??"

The Santas got to be nonexistent the week of Christmas, but I found this one today.

I posted the pic with the caption "One more before the end of the season". Danno replied "Oh no. HELL no."

I know Christmas just ended but I can't wait to find next year's Rockin Santas and listen to Danno's expressions of outrage.

The lonely Ornament

2011-12-21T21:03:00.000-06:00

I've been on a vintage Christmas ornament collecting rampage ever since I did research for the Historic Society's German Christmas party. I've hit nearly every antique mall and shop in the city in search of those ornaments of yesteryear. I've come across a plethora of Shiney Brites, a respectable amount of ornaments made in West Germany (obviously all made prior to 1989) as well as Austria, Poland, the Czech Republic and a few from Columbia and Japan.

I do have a handful of my grandmother's ornaments. Most of them are Shiney Brites, but there are a few ornaments from Poland and West Germany. There are a few that I do not remember, but there are others that I vividly remember hanging on her Christmas Tree. This is one of those ornaments that I remember. It's an Austrian ornament and it's one of my favorites.

I had a very productive day at one antique mall. Not only did I find 2 rare West German ornaments, but a trio of Austrian ornaments that match my Grandma's ornament!

As you can imagine, I snatched this trio up in a heartbeat. They were a little more expensive than what I ordinarily pay (I usually don't pay more than $3 for an ornament) but that lonely silver ornament was now part of set. Compared to my tarnished silver piece these ornaments were well cared for, and I could see they were all painted by hand.

I really loved my Grandma and whenever I go into these antique shops, I always look for something similar to what she had, whether it be an orange juice glass, the Secretary Desk or some knickknack. I'm always rewarded in finding at least one object and when I do, I usually stand in front of it, or hold it in my hands (depending on the size) and reminisce of those days long past. Once in awhile, the object can be purchased and I've probably bought half a dozen things over the years. I didn't expect to find a set of ornaments (that weren't Shiney Brites, because she had lots of those) that could be connected to her silver ornament.

Thanks Grandma for the find. I hope you can see how your Silver Ornament is now part of a set.

Why I love my WoW Guild

2011-12-15T00:32:00.000-06:00

There is so much to do in World of Warcraft besides killing the monsters that threaten to overtake Azeroth and much of the domestic life revolves around the mailbox.

Through the mailbox you can mail weapons, armor, scrolls and money to your other characters as well as to your friend's characters. The mailbox plays a big part in the Auction House activites; it is where you pick up money from the items you sold and where you receive the goods you won.

There are a few of my guild members who have found another use for the mailbox, a creative outlet, if you will. I think T started the mailbox wars. He and A would mail each other objects with a clever note attached. Monster eyeballs, dead fish, torn sails were a few of the items that flew back and forth between the two. Then I decided to jump into the fray. I sent T a pair of "chiming stress balls" with a note that said when I saw the stress balls I thought of him because it must be stressful shouldering the blame of the entire guild. Because we do blame T for everything that goes wrong in our many encounters with monsters.

A few days later, he sent me a broken necklace with the following note:

He's a clever one, that T. He's got the wit and knows how to stir the pot.

Then A and I began sending each other things, with funny notes.. Cloth, cookies, flowers and yes, even shoes.

I must confess that I like Z's letters the best. They are completely random; you never know when or what you're going to get from him. When we were doing the Firelands raids, I would often receive notes from him "I'm mailing you this from Ragnaros" and "Zomg we're at Ragnaros!" The best one he sent from Firelands was in post card form.

Tonight, I received this letter tonight from Z before I logged out of the game.

Random and funny. Those are my guildies and I love them for it.

I need to root around in my bags for some stuff to send to T and A. They are overdue for a letter from me.

You two have been warned.

Well NOW I want to put up the tree!

2011-11-26T23:03:00.000-06:00

As I've mentioned in last year's post, I have a love hate relationship with holiday decorating, or rather, Christmas Tree decorating. Last year's method of taking 2 days to put the tree up and not hanging all one million ornaments on the branches worked rather well. I also took the tree down in a timely fashion, the week after Christmas.

I made the decision to not put up the tree this year. It was a confident and guilt-free decision...until now.

We're having a German-themed Christmas Party at the Historic Society next weekend and I've spent the last 2 months researching the Christmas traditions of this country. I've read quite a bit on their decorations; Christmas Pyramids, Raucherman, Nutcrackers and especially the ornaments.

Glass making was big business in Lauscha, Germany, but it wasn't until the mid nineteenth century that the Christmas ornament was born. Louis Greiner-Schlotfeger began blowing thick-walled glass balls known as kugels, which he silvered with a Bohemian silver mirroring solution. Kugel making was a family endeavor in Lauscha. The man of the household created the ornaments while his wife silvered the insides. The ornaments were hung overnight to dry before being dipped in different colors. Family members painted trimmings and the younger children put the caps on top of the ornaments. It was estimated that a family working 6 days a week, 8-15 hours a day, could create 300 to 600 ornaments a week.

In 1880, F.W. Woolworth, the owner of the popular Woolworth Dime Store, reluctantly agreed to display a few imported German glass ornaments in his Lancaster, Pennsylvania, store. He sold out of his original $25 shipment in two days. By 1890, he was traveling to Germany to select ornaments for his stores.

Molds for ornaments were created around 1890, giving glass makers the opportunity to mass produce their goods. Over 5000 different molds were created from 1890 until 1940 with the pine cone being the most popular design. However, Santas, animals, flowers, nuts and fruits were other favorites.

World War II brought an end to glass blowing in Lauscha and East Germany turned most of Lauscha’s glassworks into state-owned (VEB) concerns after the War. However, when the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, most of these firms were reestablished as private companies. Today there are still about 20 small glass-blowing firms active in Lauscha.

The more I read about German made ornaments, the more I thought about all the glass blown ornaments my mom bought me from her days working at the Department Store. Were all those ornaments made in Germany? Up until this point, I didn't particularly care for glass blown ornaments. I always preferred wooden or acrylic ornaments. Ornaments that were hardy and could weather a fall without serious consequence. I always felt like if I sneezed on a glass blown ornament it would shatter in my hand. In fact I had at least 2 that fell and broke after hitting the carpet.

Tonight I went downstairs and rummaged through my boxes of glass ornaments. Most of them did have the "Made in Germany" stamp on top of the metal caps.

After learning the history of glass ornaments, I felt like I was seeing these Christmas decorations in a new light. It would be a shame to leave these German made creations hidden away in my basement. Maybe this year I'll buy a SMALL live tree and only bring up my absolute favorite ornaments.

Seed Cleaning

2011-11-21T17:54:00.000-06:00

Late fall is a busy time at the Ecology Center with the staff trying to schedule the yearly prescribed burn and collecting and cleaning seeds for planting. We usually try to involve students in this process because not only are they learning a part of the life cycle of a plant, but the class takes home a big bag filled with seeds they picked and cleaned with their own hands.

Seed cleaning may bring images to mind of scrubbing seeds with soap and water, but this is not the case, as today's students learned. This was the school's first trip to the Ecology Center and the staff is helping the school plan their very own native plant garden. My group was introduced to the prairie habitat and the ways these plants are adapted to a life of full sun and little rain. The students got a hands on look at the various sizes and shapes of seeds and we discussed how they were adapted to their particular method of transport (seeds that were carried on the air were light and fluffy, whereas seeds that hitched a ride on the coat of an animal felt like velcro). There was a great deal of smelling, poking and rubbing of plants as the kids decided what they wanted to put in their bag.

Once we collected enough seeds, we returned to the cabin to begin the process of seed cleaning.

Seed cleaning is essentially separating the seed from the chaff and spreading them out to dry. Ideally, colanders, sieves, window screens or other forms of metal screens are ideal for this step, but space and cost is something of an issue for us. We have the kids separate the seeds from the chaff on top of a white piece of paper or tray before moving the seed to another tray.

The newly separated seeds can be dried in paper or plastic bags (open for air circulation), dixie cups or spread out on small plates. The seeds need to be turned or stirred every few days to make sure they are dried evenly. Once dried, the seeds can be stored in a cool place out of direct sunlight until they are ready to be planted.

The kids had a great time cleaning the seeds and it didn't take long before stems and other pieces of chaff were strewn across the table and on the floor. The next step is for the school to sow those seeds in their garden. And that is an entry for another day.

Lost in the Urban Jungle: A Place Where Hoarding Makes A Profit

2011-11-17T17:02:00.001-06:00

I didn't completely hate my time in New Orleans, nor was it entirely a series of misadventures. The bayous were beautiful and the winter birding was pretty good. City Park was my favorite place not only for the birdwatching, but the graceful Live Oak trees as well. The food was delicious with many entrees unique to New Orleans. My favorite breakfast spot was Cafe Beignet, the very same place featured on Alton Brown's "The Best Thing I Ever Ate" (I don't watch food shows on TV so this one is lost on me. But there was a huge sign proclaiming this feat and proof on this website) where each morning I had a soy latte and beignets. The buildings and homes in New Orleans were unique and colorful with many housing local art stores, antique shops and used book stores.

There was one used book store in particular that immediately caught my fancy and I made at least 3 trips to this treasure trove of titles. In terms of book stores, this place was a disaster waiting to happen and I must confess that was part of the charm. There were books everywhere. Books spilling out of boxes on the floor, piles of books on the floor stacked nearly waist high. Books on top of shelves, some touching the ceiling. Books on counters and behind the counters. Books books books.

The store was something of an adventure to navigate around with stacks and boxes of books cluttering the narrow aisles. Bending down to look at a bottom shelf was more-or-less impossible, so I would bend from the waist and read titles hanging upside down. The shop owner claimed he was remodeling and said he would be happy to get a book from a stack or from the top shelf. I had no doubt he was willing to help, but I didn't want him to go through the trouble for a book I probably wasn't going to purchase.

The shop owner was reserved, almost unfriendly, when we walked in but seemed to relax the longer we were in the store and the more I gushed about all the different books. I'm sure the 3 books I had cradled in my arms helped too. By my second visit he was more friendly, yet guarded, which was probably his personality. He mentioned book titles based on my interests and told me I could dig around in a giant box of books behind the counter that he had not yet put out in the store.

As I browsed the countless titles, I tried to analyze his personality based on his demeanor and appearance of the store. I couldn't help but wonder if his home looked like his shop. I guessed he was a hoarder (well, duh) who lived a solitary life and his passion were books. There were a few customers that came in during my visits and he was able to point them to an area housing a particular genre of books or even the location of a certain book based on their questions. I don't know how he knew where anything was in that place. Other than figuring out how he had the store organized in terms of genres, the place looked like a giant disorganized jumble of books. How he could quickly find one particular book in all those piles amazed me.

I've been to a lot of bookstores in a lot of places over the years and I have never seen a store like this. Maybe that's why I found it so charming. The store was the intimate expression of its owner and not the usual sterile and predictable set up of a library. The bookstore, albeit messy, was human.

Lost in the Urban Jungle part 2: Always have a backup plan, or at least a backup map.

2011-11-15T08:52:00.000-06:00

I got lost multiple times on this trip, but the incident that takes the cake happened on Saturday. I read the birding in the Big Branch Marsh National Wildlife Refuge in Slidell was pretty good and had a small population of Red-cockaded Woodpeckers.

So on Friday evening, I typed in the location on the Navigation GPS in my phone and was pleasantly surprised to see it appear on the menu. I clicked on the location and the directions immediately popped up. Up to this point, Navigation had not let me down (I didn't count the difficulties I had with it while walking, because the unit was meant for cars, not human legs). Unlike Danno's Tomtom, Navigation did not attempt to steer me into a pasture or take me through the worst part of town. I made it to City Park and to the highway with no problems earlier in the week. I was so confident in this Navigation GPS application that I did not look up the Refuge on my laptop to double check the address or directions.

I got up early Saturday morning and hit the road in a good mood. I was about to hit the bayou and potentially see a new bird to add to my list, and an endangered species no less. But even if I didn't see the bird, I wouldn't be disappointed. It was always fun to explore a new place.

The drive to Slidell was uneventful, most of it being highway. I drove a few miles on a two lane road that paralleled the bayou so I was graced with occasional glimpses of tall trees or grasses within a stand of water. I drove past flavors of the town's culture; churches, small houses, a marine and independent food stands. I had no inkling of the trouble I was in until the last 1/2 mile. Navigation had me turn down a gravelly road and initially I thought nothing of it because I had been to several wildlife refuges or other parks that were at the end of a gravel road. However, what I did find unusual was the lack of signs indicating the presence of the refuge. But Navigation told me I was traveling in the right direction so I continued to drive....until the road ended at a pair of gates in front of a large house. Navigation told me I had arrived at my destination. No, I was not at my destination, I was in front of someone's house. I hit reroute and Navigation stubbornly insisted that I was at my destination.

With a sigh, I turned around and went back the way I came, past all the houses, churches, the marina and food stands. I pulled into a small gas station and hoped whomever was inside could help me find this elusive national wildlife refuge. This was a small town, how difficult could it be?

Regretfully, the woman running the gas station could not help me in my quest. In fact, she had never heard of this wildlife refuge. We poured over a map and indeed, saw the refuge, but no street leading to it. She suggested a few streets to try that were supposedly near this hidden refuge and told me that I could stop and ask someone in the neighborhood for directions. Surely someone knew where this refuge was located.

I was thrown 2 more curve balls when I left the gas station. At some point I hit the mute button during all the poking and swiping on my phone and couldn't figure out how to unmute the Navigation application (like most GPS units, the machine talks to you, giving you enough notice when to turn) and despite the fact my phone was plugged in the charger, it was nearly out of power (I later discovered I didn't have the phone plugged in all the way). Panic had been hovering over me like a cloud since arriving at this stranger's house, but I had managed to keep it at bay by deciding to get directions from the gas station. But now the cloud had burst and panic rained down over me. I texted Dan and relayed the story, finishing up in telling him that I was low on battery power and didn't know what to do. I continued to fiddle with the settings on Navigation to see if I could unmute the GPS when Dan texted me a link to the park. I was in the wrong town. Granted, the refuge was about 20 minutes away, but the refuge was no where near Slidell.

Despite the fact that the GPS was muted, I decided to give the refuge a try. I whipped a u-turn and the GPS went sailing from its place near the dashboard to a spot under my feet. When I went to hit the brakes to pull over, I stepped on something plastic and heard a crack. Great. I pulled into a parking lot and found the cradle in pieces. That's when my brain shut down. I was tired, lost and discouraged. I couldn't deal with another obstacle, even one as small as a broken cradle that held my phone (and the GPS in my phone). The thought of trying to keep my phone near the dashboard so the GPS satellites could bounce their mysterious rays down to my phone, while trying to find this refuge with a muted Navigation, while my phone was low on power was more than I could handle. It wasn't safe to drive and balance and stare at a map and worry about my phone dying all at the same time.

I was on the brink. I felt stupid and didn't know whether I wanted to cry or scream in frustration. I didn't like this city, it made me feel uncomfortable and I just wanted to go home. I was tired of all the noise and commotion that was New Orleans. I was tired of getting lost, having people bump into me, worrying whether or not I was going to get hit by a car when I crossed the street, tired of the loud music, and of the trash and graffiti that was everywhere I looked.

Tired and dejected, I headed back towards the city. When I returned to the hotel, I looked at the refuge's website and saw they had another location on the western edge of the city. I went to this bayou on Sunday. And didn't get lost.

The moral of the story. Have more than one set of directions when you decide to travel to a new place.

Lost in the Urban Jungle: City Sense

2011-11-14T06:38:00.000-06:00

We went to New Orleans last week for my brother-in-law's (Danno's brother) wedding. The couple have lived in The Big Easy for a few years now and absolutely love the city. I went to New Orleans several years ago and hated it. I was uncomfortable with sellers hawking their wares to everyone and anyone who passed by on the street, the inebriated people walking around and, I'm sorry if I sound like a snob, but the number of homeless people wandering around and sitting in groups on doorways put me on edge. Plus, knowing the crime rate was high didn't help my comfort level. Needless to say I wasn't exactly looking forward to being in the city again, but promised myself I would be open minded. I was a little older, wiser, and fond of my brother-in-law and his fiancee.

We arrived late Wednesday night and Thursday morning I got up and decided to hit one of the coffee shops for some local coffee and beignets. We were staying in the French Quarter and there were several cafes around. How hard could it be to find a place close to the hotel?

I made a big mistake thinking I could easily walk in a strange city when I had not even walked in the downtown districts of my own town. Apparently there is a "city sense", a kind of familiarity people acquire navigating through the maze of streets and tall buildings while walking among a crowd of strangers and impatient drivers. The location may be different, but the overall details are the same. I have the "nature sense". I feel at home on a dirt trail with trees towering above me or cutting through a swath of tall grasses. It doesn't matter the location, the sense is the same. I may get lost in the woods, but I have a generalized idea of where I'm going and know that I will eventually find my way back. Not so in the city.

The walk from the hotel wasn't too bad, it was actually pleasant. It was early in the morning so the vehicle and foot traffic was light. There were delivery trucks on the streets, shop owners pulling trashcans into alleys, people hosing down their portion of the sidewalk and construction workers setting up their equipment for the day. There were no drunk people ambling about, no peddlers out and very few menacing looking strangers lurking in doorways. Maybe this town wasn't so bad after all.

I had Navigation, a GPS application on my phone that I used as my guide and decided to go to Cafe Du Monde, which was near the French Market. I did have a little trouble using the map on the phone because Navigator was meant more for a vehicle and I think my slow progress was confusing the satellites. The GPS was showing my location a street over from where I actually was, so I was constantly shrinking the map to look at the streets in relation to where I was walking. But I found the cafe in a reasonable amount of time.

I was largely unimpressed with Cafe Du Monde. The cafe had a tiny building with tables and chairs more-or-less in the kitchen and a huge tented seating area. The flaps on the tent were down because it was a chilly morning and the bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling provided dingy lighting. It was a seat-yourself establishment and the waitresses, who sat in chairs near the entrance of the tent, only got up to serve their assigned tables. My waitress was obviously used to the large masses of people coming in and out of the restaurant and I was just another body at her table. She stood off to the side and not once did she look at me while we interacted. In fact, she rolled her eyes when I tried to pronounce Cafe au Late. But I shrugged off her rude demeanor and enjoyed my breakfast.

After hitting a few shops in the French Quarter, I decided to return to the hotel, and that's when the trouble began. I had a difficult time interpreting where I was in relation to where the GPS placed me on the map. And because it was later in the morning, not only did I have the challenge of finding my way back to the hotel, but now I was trying not to run into people as I stared at my phone, and dodge speeding cars as I crossed the streets. The street signs were confusing as well and I'm not sure if the street department or the rowdy public were to blame. Many times I would come to a street corner and while the sign of the street I was on would be present, the cross street sign would be bent or covered in graffiti. But more times than not, the cross street sign would be absent.

At one corner there was a couple with suitcases looking around in bewilderment. It was the look of the lost.

"Excuse me" the man with the suitcase said to another man, "Do you know what this cross street is?"

"Sir I've only been here 12 hours. I have no idea." the other man replied.

I walked the streets with a growing sense of panic as I tried to remember whether or not I passed that building or recognized that sign. The battery on my phone went from yellow to red. I texted Danno and told him I was lost and trying not to freak out and I was going to have to turn my phone off because it was almost out of power.

There were more strange people out and about now. People with dirty clothes, greasy hair and tattoos and piercings on nearly every inch of skin. They were standing in the middle of sidewalks, hunched in doorways and walking on the curbs. I was going to get mugged. I just knew it. Danno appeared on Bourbon Street and I almost cried in relief. Apparently he had been tracking me tech style ala Google Latitude on his phone to find and rescue me. Thank God.

I do not have city sense and do not foresee myself acquiring this ability any time soon. I don't have the comfort level to be around crowds of strange people, nor do I have the tolerance to have my personal space constantly invaded or the patience to interact with people who talk to me when I did not initiate the conversation. If this makes me a crabby, mean or snobby person, then so be it. I do not like the big city habitat. I love the space and quiet of a small town. There isn't an endless maze of streets in a small town, and there is no bumper to bumper traffic. I'll take the slow pace of a small town any day.

I'm still here...procrastinating

2011-10-30T13:12:00.000-05:00

Hey all!

To my few readers I post an update. I'm still here, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. I'm staring at a pile of crap to write and it's FREAKING me out. I think I finally have the data analysis from my summer project figured out...I think. We'll see how much excel helps me. Otherwise, you'll be reading a post soon how about how much I hate math and worrying myself into circles.I have 2 grants to write for the 2012 summer season and proposals for two new separate projects on Wood Thrush and Eurasian Tree Sparrow to research and write up.

But have I started any of this? HELL NO.

I've been researching German Christmas Traditions, recipes, photos and decorations for a German Christmas event we're going to have at the Historic Society. This is MUCH easier to deal with than creating a good scientific study complete with figures and hypothesis.

I've also been working like a maniac in the backyard, hacking down honeysuckle bushes with trunks as thick as my thighs (there's going to be a post about that soon). I've managed to clear a sizable chunk of the yard and replaced honeysuckle with butterfly bush.

Still on Weight Watchers. I've lost 12 pounds now. Still aiming to lose more weight. Hit a bit of a plateau (haven't lost weight in 2 weeks) but I think if I start walking on the treadmill or return to the jungle in the backyard I'll start losing weight again.

I'm still here. New entries soon. I promise.

The randomness of 3 and 4 year olds

2011-10-13T20:32:00.002-05:00

The Ecology Center has taken to doing classes for the under 5 crowd this school year. There have been infrequent preschool visitors over the years, but I have seen a definite increase in the number of toddlers the last few months. In fact last week there was a class of 2 -3 year old toddlers. These little tots were still in diapers!

We had a class of 3 - 4 year olds. A pre-preschool if you will. This was the class's first visit and the topic the teacher wanted us to cover was plants. Supposedly the kids knew the parts of a plant; the leaves, stem, seeds and roots. My group consisted of 3 girls, 1 boy and a teacher's assistant. I kept it simple and tried to take cues from the kids as to what they knew and what they were interested in. I started out with the kids collecting leaves. Leaves of different sizes, shapes and then colors. Find me a yellow leaf, find me a red leaf etc.

"This leaf looks like a duck!" Re exclaimed, twirling a paw paw leaf. "And this one looks like a duck wing!"

We spent a moment marveling over the leaves that looked like a duck before moving on.

"I have a pink belt on. See?" Hy shouted, lifting her shirt enough to show off her bright pink belt.

"Oh I like it. It's pretty!" I said.

She lifted my shirt to look at my pants.Well this was a first.

"No, I don't have a belt." I said.

When the subject of leaves was exhausted, I moved on to seeds and pointed out seeds of various sizes and shapes, allowing the kids to pull certain seeds. We came across beggar's lice (aka Tick Trefoil). The seeds are like velcro and will stick to any part of your body and can be difficult to remove. The kids loved the seeds and started sticking them all over their clothes and talked about what kind of plant they were going to grow into. The subject changed to favorite colors with pink being the favorite color of all the girls. Among the talking, giggling and seed pulling, the only boy in the group started placing the trefoil seeds on me. He didn't say a word but with great concentration on his face, he methodically placed one seed after another on my arms, back and the bag I was carrying.

Hy, the one with the pink belt, was very much the city girl and it was evident she was not enjoying her outdoor field trip. She often asked when it was time to return to school and let us know how bored she was with this whole ordeal. I think I pushed her over the edge when I lifted a bug board and picked up a millipede for the kids to touch.

"Put that down! I hate worms!"

I went on to explain that the millipede was no a worm, it had an exoskeleton (it's like bones on the outside of it's body!) and it was an animal that ate plants. Every one touched the millipede except Hy, who stomped on the board when I finally put the millipede down and returned the board to the ground.

I tried to distract her growing unhappiness and boredom by leading the group to a patch of Cup Plants and that in turn prompted a discussion of who would drink water from a Cup Plant. Birds, Dragonflies and Butterflies were among the candidates who would sip water from this plant.

We all took a deep breath of the fall air and I asked them what they smelled. Leaves, dirt, my shirt were the answers I received. I had a little bird girl in the group and I was so proud. She often stopped when a wren was singing or a sparrow was chipping and asked "What's that noise?" She also spotted a blue jay and marveled over its large size.

We made a trip to the creek, peeled the bark off a sycamore tree, looked under a few more bug boards and went potty before our time was up.

I like the under 5 crowd. They say and do whatever comes to their minds, even if it is completely random. Makes for an interesting field trip.

Inside the mind of an insomniac

2011-10-11T17:12:00.001-05:00

I've been going through a rough stretch of sleeplessness, at least 2 weeks. Fourteen days may not seem like a lot, but the last two weeks have seemed like 2 years. I don't know how parents with small children function on next to no sleep because I'm in a haze most of the day. Driving makes me nervous in this state, concentration is impossible, my blog has gone to the wayside, and the house is in shambles because I have no mental or physical energy.

I've had problems with sleeplessness in the past and I've followed the suggestions provided by the medical professionals; go to bed and wake up at the same times, stop the caffeine intake in the afternoon, don't read or watch TV in bed, don't take afternoon naps etc etc. The suggestions helped some, especially going to bed at the same time every night and no naps. But it seemed like time resolved the insomnia, or rather, whatever issue I was puzzling over was resolved.

It takes me forever to fall sleep and I wake frequently. While I go to bed at the same time every night, I sleep in and take naps when I can to catch up. I know these are cardinal sins for the recovering insomniac but I still have trouble sleeping whether or not I take a nap or sleep in late.

So what does one do while waiting for sleep? For one, reading makes me sleepy. I may read a book, my nook or pick a boring topic and google it on my android. I've read the names and dates of World War 2 battles, looked at the weather in various cities on weather.com, played Words with Friends, read various topics mentioned on talk shows (I've recently read about polygamy, the drug wars in Mexico, Arab Spring to name a few) and recently, I looked up the large hadron collider (LHC) because it was a main character of sorts on a Big Bang Theory rerun. Well THAT backfired because it turned out to be more interesting than I thought and after reading the wikipedia article, I went to LHC's main website and then a website of one of the collider's projects and before I knew it, 1am had come and gone.

So blog world, I'm still here but fatigue has made me foggy and clouded my creativity.

Keep your fingers crossed that consistent, uninterrupted sleep comes my way soon. I miss writing.

So many books, so little time.

2011-09-25T17:41:00.000-05:00

I went to Borders the first weekend after I learned they were closing. I'm an avid book reader and knew there would be good sales. But the first weekend proved to be too soon. The place was packed and most of the books were only 20% off. So I waited another month before venturing back into store. Most of the books were still 20% off, but the 30% off discount had appeared. I bought a few books at one location and headed to another borders and bought a few more.

I felt like I was playing a waiting game with Borders. I wanted to time it so that I went one last time right before the stores closed because I knew the books would be crazy cheap. Obviously the trick was not waiting too long when the stores closed for good.

A few weeks ago Borders published a list of closing dates on their locations and the 2 stores closest to my house were closing within 5 days. I made a dash to each store and yes indeed, the prices were cheap...most, if not all, of the books were $1. Both stores were nearly empty of their merchandise but I managed to find 3 hardbacks and a handful of books for that crazy price of a dollar a piece.

And now looking at all the books that I bought, I'm wondering what in the world I was thinking.

In addition to the books I bought at Borders, I have dozens and dozens of books waiting to be read. I'm on the email list of Amazon's daily book blog "Omnivoracious", NPR's book list, Good Reads and I'm in a monthly book club. The websites provide most of my reading material in addition to anything that I may hear on NPR. Sometimes when I'm in Barnes and Noble, I will happen across a book that looks interesting and I add that title to my growing list. When we go on vacation, a book on the natural history of, or the environmental history of the city or state we're visiting is a MUST. I can't tell you how many books I bought on vacation that I have yet to read. Did I mention I also have a Nook?

I know I'm obsessed with books. I may even be a book hoarder. But there's nothing better to occupy your time while waiting at the doctor's office, the garage or dentist's office than a good book. Reading while waiting for a flight and during the flight helps curb my impatience. Yes I am one of those "Are we there yet?" kind of people. Reading gives my brain something to do and enables me to wind down at night before bed.

And I love a good series. I like watching characters develop and how they react to unfolding events in their fictitious lives. The Kate Daniels series by Ilona Andrews and the Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs are my favorite urban fantasy series. A new series I've grown attached to are the Noble Dead by Barb and JC Hendee. Other favorite series include The Dragonlance Chronicles, The Dark Disciple Series and The War of Souls, all by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. I enjoy the Rogue Angel series by Alex Archer (The main character is a she-Macgyver! How can I not love those books?)

So many books and not enough time. At the rate I continue to buy and borrow books, I'm not sure I'll ever get them all read.

Meet the Thrush Family

2011-09-16T23:09:00.000-05:00

Migration has been underway here in the midwest with the peak more-or-less beginning yesterday. Many species of birds migrate twice a year, in the spring and fall. Birds migrate to their summer territories to breed and take advantage of the long daylight hours for foraging or hunting. In the fall, when their food resources are low or exhausted, most birds will switch their diets as they migrate to their winter territories. For example, the Swainson's Hawk will eat mammals during the summer, but switch to insects during the winter.

At the Bird Sanctuary, mist netting during the migration times is almost better than Christmas. It is during these small time frames during the year that we catch birds that spend neither the summer or winter in our neck of the woods but use our part of the region as a rest stop.

We've been mist netting daily this week to take advantage of fall migration. While we have caught a small number of warblers, most of the birds that have found their way into our nets have been the thrushes.

The thrush family includes the American Robin, Eastern Bluebird, Gray-cheeked Thrush, Hermit Thrush, Swainson's Thrush, Veery and Wood Thrush. The majority of the birds caught have been Robins and Swainson's Thrush with a few Wood Thrush as well. Today we caught one Gray-cheeked Thrush.

While each thrush species has their own unique habits (more on that later), the Thrush Family (or Turdidae family) have several characteristics in common. The Turdidae family is found worldwide on all the continents and even a few islands. These birds are ground feeders and eat mainly insects and worms during the breeding season, but switch to berries during the winter. Their nests are typically composed of twigs, grasses, weeds and placed high (up to 50 feet) up in a tree or shrub.

The American Robin (Turdus migratorius) is undoubtedly one of the most well known birds of the Turdidae family that live in North America. These birds live in a wide range of habitats, including deciduous forests, suburbs, open fields and parks. They are short distant migrants, flying only for a few hours during the day, with many inhabiting the southern U.S. during the winter months. Robins congregate in large, noisy flocks during the winter and it is not uncommon to see these flocks foraging for food. The berries of Eastern Red Cedar Trees are a favorite of the Robins, and consequently, this bird plays a large part in the seed dispersal of this tree (seed, complete with fertilizer! You know what I'm talking about...)

The Gray-cheeked Thrush (Catharus minimus), Hermit Thrush (Catharus guttatus ) Swainson's Thrush (Catharus ustulatus) ,Veery (Catharus fuscescens) and Wood Thrush (Hylocichla mustelina) are often called the "spotted thrushes" and have several characteristics in common. These thrushes are long distant migrants, flying primarily at night and stopping at dawn to rest and refuel. They inhabit forests and woodlands during the summer. They eat insects and worms during the summer and show a strong preference for woodland fruits that are rich in lipids when they switch their diet in the fall. Incidentally the spotted thrushes are important seed dispersers of their favorite woodland plants, such as the Virginia Creeper, Black Tupelo, Spicebush and the Dogwoods.

We seem to catch more of the Gray-cheeked Thrush during spring migration, although we have a few more days remaining in our fall migration session for their numbers to catch up to the others. These birds winter in the rain forests of South America and are primarily arctic breeders, spending their summer up in Alaska, the Northwest Territories of Canada, Quebec, Labrador and Newfoundland.

We haven't caught a Hermit Thrush yet this fall, but we have caught stragglers in past fall migrations and usually early on in our mist netting season, in April and the first couple of weeks in May. These birds winter in the southern United States, along the coast of California and all throughout Mexico. They breed in the western US and all of Canada. Unlike the other thrushes, the Hermit Thrush has a rusty red tail, making it easier to tell them apart from the other Thrush species in the field.

The Swainson's Thrush is the bird species that dominates our nets during the spring and fall migration sessions. This is another arctic nester that breeds in Alaska, all across Canada, Labrador and Newfoundland and winters in Central Mexico, Northern Argentina and Paraguay. The eye ring is the field marker for this bird, although it can be difficult to see if looking at this bird through a pair of binoculars. The easiest way to differentiate the thrushes is to listen to their songs.

The Veery is a rare treat for us in the spring. This thrush breeds in lower Canada as well as the north and northeastern part of the US. They winter down in Central American and the northern portion of South America. This is the least spotted of the thrushes.

The Wood Thrush is the bird found here in our neck of the woods, calling the Midwest and the eastern portion of the US home during the summer. They fly down to Central America and northern South America for winter. This species will return to the same wintering site every year and defend it as they would their breeding territory.The Wood Thrush is nearly the size of a Robin and has beautiful rust red and orange feathers.

There are many more Thrushes in this family, 18 species that breed in the United States, but these are the family members that pay us a visit at least once a year.

Week One of the Diet

2011-09-14T18:49:00.001-05:00

Last Wednesday I started the Weight Watchers Diet. I had been thinking about dieting for some time, but joining Weight Watchers (WW) last week was kind of spontaneous. I jumped on the scale and found that I had again gained weight and in a fit of anger and sadness, I googled Weight Watchers, and signed up.

I weighed myself this morning and am happy to report I lost 3 pounds! The website says to expect to lose 1-2 pounds a week. I know it will be a slow process and 3 pounds may not seem like much, but it's a step in the right direction.

This is my first experience with a diet and the first 2-3 days were pretty hard. I was hungry almost the entire day. It wasn't a rumble in your tummy, shaky kind of hungry, but that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. And sometimes it seemed I was more hungry AFTER I ate. WW is based on a point system and the amount of carbohydrates, fat, fiber and protein determine how many points a food item is. For example, a Skinny Cow ice cream bar is worth 3 points and the Chicken Teriyaki Broccoli thing I made one night was 5 points. The good thing about WW is that you can have an unlimited number of fresh fruits and vegetables because they are worth 0 points. So anytime the hunger was hard to deal with, I usually grabbed an apple or a banana. I ate A LOT of fruits and vegetables last week. I don't think I've ever had that much fresh produce. EVER.

The first few days were difficult with planning meals but it is getting easier. I spent a lot of time researching and printing recipes from the WW website and calculating points from the ingredients in the recipes in my cookbooks. I'm still a little worried about planning lunches and snacks. I know at some point I'm going to get bored with eating produce when the snack monster attacks.

I'm learning what foods keep me fuller longer (or less hungry) and figuring out how to manage my points so that I can squeeze in a sweet treat. I know that the all-or-nothing approach to any change in habits usually ends in failure and really, dieting is about moderation. I'm not going to completely give up my chocolate.

I'll continue to take it one day at a time. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Homes of the things that sting

2011-09-11T17:17:00.001-05:00

I'll begin this post with a warning. This entry is not for those who are squeamish at the mere mention of bees and wasps. This isn't going to be a gory entry by any means, but I am going to delve into the life histories of the things that sting.

This entry was inspired by the sight of this house on a house.

This is the home of a Paper Organ Mud Dauber Wasp (Trypoxylon politum). These non-aggressive, solitary wasps belong to the Crabronidae family and this includes digger wasps and sand wasps, all considered "hunter wasps". The female wasp gathers mud and builds her nest, where she deposits an egg in each nest cell. The male wasp will guard the nest and mate with the female each time she returns to the nest to feed the larvae. Spiders are the primary food for the growing larvae.

Danno and I rarely use the front door as we enter the house through the garage. At some point (probably last summer, from the looks of the nest) a paper wasp created a nest on the frame of our front door. Yikes!

Paper Wasps are in the Vespidae family and the Hymenoptera order. (Bees and ants also belong in this order.) There are several species of paper wasps and all are social. An overwintering paper wasp emerges in spring and begins building a nest. A queen gathers fibers from dead limbs, exposed boards, paper litter and plant stems. In the next phase of building the female will gather water from puddles, bird baths or other shallow water sources. Then she will regurgitate that water to connect the paper fibers of the nest and create a waterproof coating on top. It's not long before the nest is buzzing with activity. The eggs hatch into larvae, which remain in this stage for about 2 weeks before entering the pupal stage. The queen then covers the developing pupae with more paper. The queen continues to build nest cells and lay eggs. Meanwhile, sterile females emerge 3 weeks later from the covered cells and finish building the other nest cells that the queen started, and assist in feeding the larvae and pupae while the queen continually lays eggs. Later in the summer, the queen will lay eggs from which fertile males and females will develop. Once this happens, the queen stops laying eggs, the sterile females stop working and the males and females mate and depart the nest. The males will die during the winter but the females survive to begin the cycle again in the spring.

Did you know that you can make a Bee Box?

The Ecology Center has scattered several bee boxes across the property. These boxes consist of blocks of wood with holes of varying sizes to attract a diversity of bees. These are made to attract solitary bees, who, unlike the society-minded bumblebees and honeybees, prefer to live alone. The Andrenidae and Halicitidae families are the largest solitary bee families. There are some minor behavioral differences between these families, but both nest in underground burrows. You can often find these nests in bare earth or sand. The entrances are usually the diameter of a pencil and it is not unusual to find the excavated earth piled up around the entrance. There are many types of bee boxes you can make and some are made to place either on or in the ground.

The houses from which these insects are raised are just one aspect of their fascinating stories. There are several books and websites to learn about our wasp and bee friends. I'm still a bit squeamish around the stingers, but the more I read, the less afraid I become and the more my respect grows for these insects. At the very least, I can tolerate their present and not freak out when they buzz in my direction.

Why I love small businesses

2011-09-09T17:18:00.000-05:00

I ran some errands yesterday afternoon and hit mostly the small businesses in town. I try my best to shop at the smaller stores but it's getting increasingly difficult to find those mom-and-pop places because they are getting swallowed up by the giant cookie-cutter retail chains. But yesterday reminded me why it's worth the extra effort.

First stop was the pharmacy. I ditched Walgreens a few years ago because it sometimes took them DAYS (despite the fact I was calling the pharmacy daily) to call my doctor when approval was needed for a refill and after this happened at least 3 times too many, I opted for the smaller pharmacy about a mile down the road. Initially I was hesitant to make the switch. I had never gone to another pharmacy other than Walgreens. Were smaller pharmacies more prone to drug mistakes or charged more for medicine? But I found the prices cheaper and the customer service hard to beat.

I went in and found the technician pulling my prescription (I don't even have to tell them my name anymore. They recognize me) and as she rang me up, she asked how my old lady cat was feeling these days. (My oldest cat is in congestive heart failure and has arthritis and she too, gets medicine from this place) The pharmacy staff is always pleasant.Once I had a drug mix up and I called the pharmacist in a panic. She went above and beyond the call of duty to calm me down and looked up interactions and what not and told me my mistake wasn't the end of the world but to call my doctor regardless. Then she ordered me to call her back when I was finished talking to him for the follow up. The next time I went in I thanked her profusely and got a hug. I don't think I would have received that kind of service at Walgreens.

The next stop was the animal clinic to pick up food and more medication for the old lady cat. I've taken my animals to both the big and small clinics over the years and the small clinics win hands down. Granted, the small clinics do not treat the big emergencies or complicated illnesses like the one I had with the old lady cat, but they referred us to a state-of-the-art clinic. When I walked in the door I was greeted with the sight of the receptionists holding kittens. Evidently Thursday evenings are "ladies night" at the clinic, as there is no male staff after 3pm so the receptionists have been bringing their kittens in to work with them. How cute is that?

The veterinarian who sees old lady cat has become a friend and was there during that crisis where my vet friend was not only taking care of old lady cat, but me as well (She probably didn't realize she was going to be a little bit of a therapist during that time). She has loaned me her dog crate to use as a hospital room and now, a handicap zone for old lady cat. There is a litter box and cat bed in the crate so she doesn't have to go downstairs to use the box. Steps are hard on old lady cat legs. I've also become good friends with one of the receptionists and I look forward to going in and chatting with her, even if she is mean to me ;)

Next stop was the local hardware store. I'm not sure why the existence of the Lowe's and Home Depots of the retail world really bother me. I go out of my way to avoid the retail giants because I think the mom-and-pop hardware stores are the greatest. They offer a little bit of everything, including those odds and ends that don't quite fit the hardware store category. I'm willing to pay the bit of extra money for my merchandise because I see the same staff who are usually friendly and helpful. I haven't had many positive experiences within the walls of the chain hardware stores. No one has walked me to the aisle where my item was located and I'm met with indifference at the register.

I'm a sucker for family owned restaurants, small grocery stores, gift shops, independent book stores and coffee shops. I love the small buildings (or houses), the merchandise not always found in a retail giant, the decor, the regulars who frequent these places. I think that's why I love small towns so much. You find more of the mom-and-pop stores and restaurants in these places versus the big cities. You get a feel for the town in these small businesses and more personalization and interaction as well.

It's not everywhere you frequent where there's a Thursday Ladies Night complete with kittens.

Hungry!

2011-09-07T17:31:00.001-05:00

I am not a happy camper right now. I've been hungry all day and have had food on my brain. Obsessed you might say. If you haven't guessed by now, today is the first day of my diet. I joined Weight Watchers because I've been steadily gaining weight and haven't been able to shake it off. Years of Starbucks, sweets, and fast food have taken their toll. I exercised for over a year and did not lose one pound, although I did not alter my diet to lose the weight. That fact was discouraging, but I really enjoyed the class and I felt good about myself. My endurance increased and my muscles gained definition. I loved it. But unfortunately, my knees did not. Despite the precautions and modifications, my knees were in agony, forcing me to quit the class. I have taken a lengthy break from the class, and with my doctor's permission and the teacher's blessing, I hope to return after the first of the year.

I will also say that the antidepressants I've been on are also partially responsible for my weight gain. It's no secret I'm on medication. Most of my friends know I struggle with depression. I'm not ashamed of it. But the side effects of being taken off this medicine to try that medicine have taken their toll and I AM ashamed of the weight gain. I hate it. I hate the way I look.

So I joined Weight Watchers and today was the first day of dieting. I don't know how Weight Watchers can be complicated and easy at the same time, but it is. The IDEA of points is easy, the website is awesome in helping you add up food points. There is even a little box where you can put in the calories, protein, fiber and carbohydrate numbers of the food item in question and the website will spit back how many points to add to your day. If you don't know the numbers of the food you are about to partake in, there's a good chance it is in the Weight Watchers website. You type in the food description under the search engine and PRESTO, there are the points! What seems complicated to me is all the planning and organization of your meals and snacks. I was planning on making a mexican lasagna and figured it would have a moderate number of points, but there were a lot of vegetables (0 points! You can pretty much eat as many fruits and veggies as you want because they are all 0 points). WRONG! The spices were 3-4 points A PIECE and the points for the black beans made me cry. My seemingly healthy recipe was a whopping 42 points. I'm allowed 29 points a day and I have 42 extra points I can dip into each week.

Organization is not my strength. I can be organized to a point, but the organization needed for this diet is going to be a challenge. I rarely plan my meals ahead of time. Lunch and Dinner are more of a daily spur-of-the-moment, "oh this sounds good to me!" type of deal. Apparently I need to change my ways.

I'm also worried this isn't going to work. I mean, I know I should have changed my diet while I exercised, but I still can't believe I did not lose one pound. I'm not a terrible terrible eater. I don't eat a steady diet of junk. I hope that when I start bike riding (I've heard riding and swimming are easy on the knees) and walking that little bit will be the kick needed to lose the weight. I was also warned that it can be difficult to lose weight while on antidepressants. The medication is a necessity and stopping the drugs is not an option. And of course, weight gain is another side effect of stopping antidepressants. So I'm damned either way.

I will remain optimistic and try my best to keep the whining to a minimum.

But dang I'm hungry.

Repels animals AND humans!

2011-09-05T16:22:00.002-05:00

The smell showed up sometime in July. It was an odd odor, a little like dog poo, but it also had that bitter acidic smell reminiscent of cat urine. The smell seemed to be concentrated in the dining room, which really isn't the dining room, but a catch all room. The table essentially catches the daily mail and anything we purchase from an errand. In the corner of the dining room (next to the door that goes to the garage) sits all our shoes on a mat.

The first day I noticed the smell, I crawled around on the floor and looked for poo or wet spots. When nothing was found, I went to the table but still nothing. No wet mail, magazines or bags. My purse was dry as well. I mentioned the smell to Danno and told him to keep his eye open for the cause behind the unexplained smell.

All through July and August the odor persisted. Periodically during those months I would stick my nose on the table or a chair and even my purse and inhale to see if one of the cats had peed on that object. I lifted shoes to look for remnants of dog feces. I vacuumed the dining room carpet and washed the table. I even dusted, but the smell remained.

Then this last Friday I noticed a plastic bag in the corner of the mat where all the shoes sat. Why had I not ever looked in THAT bag? I probably looked at that bag almost every day when I put on a pair of shoes. I opened the bag and the smell nearly knocked me over. Yup. THIS was the source of the smell. Inside the bag was a bottle of REPELS ALL that had tipped over and leaked about a tablespoon's worth of its contents.

It all came back to me as I looked at that bottle. Back in May Toadputty and I planted a bunch of plants in front of HF only to have a family of squirrels and probably a rabbit or two make lunch out of most of those beautiful flowers a few weeks later. I went to the hardware store in search of an animal repellent and decided REPELS ALL was the best product to buy to punish those critters and hopefully keep them away from what few plants remained alive. But the bottle never made it to HF because the summer drought fried the rest of the flowering plants.

REPELS ALL claimed to deter Armadillos, Beavers, Birds, Cats, Crows, Chipmunks, Deer, Groundhogs, Mice, Porcupines, Rabbits, Raccoons, Rats, Skunks, Shrews and Voles. Technically, the only birds in North America that have a sense of smell are the vultures (Black Vultures, Turkey Vultures and the California Condor). Other birds, such as CROWS and the like, DO NOT have a sense of smell, but I digress. The list did not include squirrels, but I figured if the animal had a sense of smell, it would avoid the spray. The ingredients of REPELS ALL were Dried Blood, Putrescent Whole Egg Solids and Garlic Oil.

I carried the bag at arm's length and deposited it outside near my flowers. When Danno returned home from work, I told him I discovered the source of that persistent strange odor. He told me that he too kept picking up our shoes to look for dog poo cling ons.

The odor has mostly dissipated from the dining room although every now and then I get a whiff of that terrible smell. The area around our patio where I placed the bottle now smells like dog poo and cat pee, or putrescent whole egg solids and dried blood I suppose.

The bottle should add humans to the list of living things it repels because the odor certainly kept Danno and I out of the dining room.

The Color of August

2011-08-28T15:58:00.009-05:00

You may call me silly, but I associate colors with each month of the year. I won't bore you with every month, but I will fill you in my summer colors. May is blue, June is orange, July is purple and August is yellow.

After my morning outside today, you'll understand why I associate August with yellow. I ran out to work to set up nets for my last mist netting session of the season, which is tomorrow. Knowing it was going to be a beautiful day, I brought my camera along and walked the prairie after setting up the nets.

The sweet coneflowers are still in bloom, although they getting to be just past their prime. But it still sure is nice to walk among the flowers.

The butterflies were out in force today, or I should say, the Skippers. There were many species of Skippers flitting about, but the Fiery Skippers caught my eye.

Most of the Skippers look very similar, making it difficult to identify them. Usually I wait until I get home to download the pictures with field guide in hand before trying to identify the Skippers. Even now, I'm doubting the accuracy of my identification

Skippers make up 1/3rd of the butterfly species in North America. They are tiny butterflies with broad heads, stocky bodies and small wings. They are also fast flyers. The larvae of this species feed primarily on bermuda grass.

Butterflies were not the only winged creatures flitting about. The American Goldfinches were feasting on the cone flowers and I had a young Indigo Bunting checking me out.

You may wonder about the word "Indigo" in this bird's name, but the females and young birds that hatched over the summer are brown. The males begin to gain that beautiful blue color the following spring, but still have brown feathers scattered across their body. It actually takes a few years for the males to completely lose the brown feathers.

Yellow flowers, yellow butterflies and yellow (and brown) birds. Do you understand now why I associate August with the color yellow?

A warm house and a missing door

2011-08-26T15:52:00.004-05:00

The last 2 weeks have been uneventful, yet eventful, in that I have switched my duties from the prairie over to the local historic society (HS). My mother-in-law (Toadputty) is the president of this organization and I began volunteering last October. As time has progressed I have unwittingly, though somewhat willingly assigned myself additional responsibilities and became enmeshed in the town's gossip and politics. A typical day may be slow business-wise, but usually the quirks of the volunteers, calls and emails from other businesses with gossip , not to mention random calls from the public with strange questions make the day interesting.

Toadputty has been on vacation for the last 2 weeks and while Historia and Survivor have filled in for her, I went in several days during her absence. I haven't done anything useful, other than catalog old newspapers and update the volunteer hours on excel. I've spent most of my time doing non-volunteer things like reading academic periodicals and crunching the numbers from my summer work. But I went in to help in any way I could, whether it be to answer the phone or assist a walk-in during the times the other volunteers (who know more of the town's history than I do) are busy and to provide them assistance with any unforeseen circumstances. And let me tell you, there were a few odd incidents over the last 2 weeks.

My first request for help came last week, even before I was to report for duty in Toadputty's absence. I texted Toadputty Monday evening to inform her I was going in to HS on Tuesday.

I received a text that said "Make sure Historia doesn't paint the attic ceiling."

What?

The HS organization resides in a 2 story house built before the Civil War. Of course the house now has modern conveniences with the exception of the attic, which did not have air conditioning or heat. However we rectified the situation over the summer, installing a snazzy AC/Heating unit.

I learned the story behind Toadputty's odd message on my arrival Tuesday. Apparently Historia got it in her head that the ceiling needed painting. NOW. Before I go any further, let me tell you that Historia is a frail wisp of a woman in her 90s. Her body doesn't quite match up to the strength of her mind. While she hasn't experienced any falls or mishaps to date (knock on wood), she has a tendency to bite off more than she can chew. Painting the attic ceiling would require moving heavy boxes and furniture, using a step ladder and painting over one's head. Given past experience with Historia, no one doubted that she would do all of this alone, with no help. Genie managed to stall Historia, stating the fact that Toadputty, who also wanted to paint the attic ceiling, had already bought paint and enlisted the help needed for painting. Historia only conceded after she could not locate any cans of paint in the house (she doesn't know Genie found a can of paint and opened the lid to dry out the contents).

The next adventure came the following day (Wednesday) and this one involved the whereabouts of a missing 100+ year old door. One of the primary objectives of HS is saving and restoring old houses and buildings. The building to which this door belonged has gone through a recent cycle of businesses and the newest inhabitant was planning to open a coffee shop. Unfortunately this gentleman was hellbent on removing every trace of antiquity from this building, all in the name of "improvement". The common practice for people who own or rent a historic landmark is to inform or ask permission from the local government or HS to make changes to their building. Most counties want to maintain some degree of the historic landmark's heritage and impose regulations on what the occupant can do to the exterior and sometimes even the interior of the building. Well, the man claimed ignorance to this fact and already made changes to the building, one of which was removing the door. When Toadputty found out what the man had done she demanded to know the location of the door and confusion ensued. Hell was raised and the City government claimed it would bring the door to HS. This all happened the week before Toadputty was to leave for vacation.

Well, that Wednesday (last week), Genie came in and asked if the door ever came in. After searching and speculation (Genie thought the door was delivered to the museum down the street. I was convinced the door was in a dumpster) I called Toadputty on her vacation and she in turn, called the City to demand the whereabouts of this door. Of course the man who had charged his underlings with the task of bringing the door to us had no idea the object in question was not delivered. He promised Toadputty he would get to the bottom of the mystery and make sure the door was delivered ASAP. But as of last Friday, we had no antique door.

This week seemed to focus on the quirks of my fellow volunteers and reminded me how much I disliked being around other people. I went in this Tuesday to a hot house. We had a heat advisory that day and it was already close to 90 degrees at 10am. Imagine my displeasure when I went into a house that felt as warm inside as it did outside. What.The.Hell. I made a beeline for the thermostat and found it set at 78 degrees. I turned the thermostat down to 74 and went to set up my laptop in the office, which still felt warm after 30 minutes of continuous cool air. I quickly glanced around the room and found a pile of boxes on top of the register. Knowing who was responsible for the thermostat and blocking boxes, but not wanting to accuse her, I found Survivor and tactfully asked her about the boxes.

"Oh yea," She said with a grin and a wave of her hand, "I get so cold and had that cold air blowing on me so I put the boxes on top of the vent."

Outwardly I laughed, but inwardly I wanted to throttle her and stick her upstairs in the attic, where Historia had that thermostat set at a balmy 77 degrees.

About an hour later, Historia was requesting my assistance. She wanted me to carry her computer monitor down to her car. Historia, who founded the HS, is in the process of retiring and has been gradually turning all of her responsibilities and information over to Toadputty. Thinking this was just another step in that process of letting go, I said nothing and obliged her request. However, she told me she was swapping her work computer with her home computer because she planned to work from home. I was about to ask her if she wanted me to carry the computer to the car as well when she interrupted me and told me she was going to ask one of the architects (we rent a space to a small business on the main floor) to help her because the other computer was too heavy. A few minutes later I found that architect coming up the stairs with a different computer monitor. I returned to my desk and it wasn't long before I lost the internet connection on my laptop. I wandered into Historia's office and found her fiddling around the power strip. She was complaining she couldn't get her monitor to work. I didn't want to get into the whole issue that she really wasn't changing computers, but just swapping monitors because I had a very limited understanding of computers myself and I knew she had even less of an understanding and explaining would be difficult at best. Instead I turned the power strip on (she had shut it off, thinking she had turned it on) and checked her wire connections. Yes indeed something was missing. I knew it was something obvious, but I couldn't place my finger on it until I saw her throw the power cord down in disgust. I asked her for the cord and I could tell from the look on her face as she handed it to me that she didn't think the cord was going to work. Imagine her surprise when it turned everything on. Again she went for the power strip and I quickly told her I switched it on because she had switched it off, and I knew that without a doubt because I lost my internet connection and I showed her how the Wi-Fi thingie (see? I told you I had a limited understanding of computer stuff) was plugged in to the power strip.

(*Note. I found out last night that the apple Macs have their computers built into the monitors. See? I REALLY don't know much about computers)

Today was uneventful but I was somewhat annoyed at Survivor, who was in a talkative mood, or rather, a history preaching mood. Survivor has a tendency to be condescending when she preaches local history. She talks to me like I have no inkling of what history is, despite the fact that I have a college education and do quite a bit of reading on the subject. Granted, my interest lays in the history of the American West and Environmental history (yes, that is a niche now) and I have a limited knowledge of our local history, but don't talk to me like I'm a 10 year old. I don't take it too personally though. I've noticed her taking the same tone with other people when she talks history. So after lunch, I retreated upstairs to the quiet, albeit warm, recesses of the attic.

The door finally showed up today too. I was so happy to see it because I have feeling if the door hadn't shown up today we would have been canvasing the neighborhood dumpsters next week. It is a pretty door and was worth the drama.

And Toadputty is back next week. Hallelujah she's coming back. That place doesn't run quite the same without her.

Clean clean clean

2011-08-22T18:05:00.004-05:00

I had the house to myself last week and I took the opportunity to clean. In addition to the usual vacuuming, dishes, laundry and the like, I went through the clutter and nothing was safe. I started in the family room and went through a basket containing all the note cards, magazines, scientific journals, junk mail to look at later and travel brochures. All the junk mail and magazines went into the recycle bin without a second thought, but the scientific periodicals, note cards and travel brochures were a little more difficult.

Most of the travel brochures were Alaska-themed. The brochures from our 2010 trip ended up in the recycle bin, but I hung on to the rest and stuffed them in a manila envelope titled "Alaska trips to take", because you know, I do plan to return to the state of the midnight sun someday. I lingered on the remaining brochures, thumbing through them in a wistful air. Cruise around New Zealand? I wish. Scotland and Ireland? Awww, it pains me, but no. Iceland. How cool would that be? Toss. Toss. Toss. All in the recycle bin.

The scientific journals were all work-related and each one was akin to solving a mystery. Almost all the periodicals had a sticky tab attached to a page. I created 2 piles; one pile for the journals to be filed and the other pile for the issues to remain in the basket to be read.

Hey, here's the article on nest box traps. I already made a copy of that paper. To be filed.

Hmm, now why in the world did I want this one? Oh! That one is DC's vireo study. Sorry dude, no time for that now. To be filed.

Well this journal has TWO papers on wintering grassland birds. Keep in the basket.

Another method for assessing reproductive success. Gah. As much as I hate math, this one has to stay. Keep in the basket.

WHY did I keep this one? I flipped through the paper and found the literature cited portion heavily highlighted. Great, more crap to look up and read. Sigh. Keep in the basket.

Sorting through the periodicals took the longest and after emptying and reorganizing the basket, I called it a day but took a box filled with books and another box with CDs downstairs. However, one look downstairs told me where I would be spending most of my de-cluttering energy in the near future.

Another day was spent in the kitchen scrubbing the floor, throwing out expired goods and spices and deciding which appliances and gadgets to donate to Goodwill. I found an extra bread pan, the cake pan I couldn't find over Christmas holiday and some flat Teflon thingie to grill vegetables on.

Once the kitchen was clean and clutter free, I descended into the bowels of the basement. I spent 3 days down there, about an hour each day combing through boxes and walking down memory lane. When and how did I accumulate so much crap? Old dresses, shirts, shoes, stuffed animals, papers from college, photographs, greeting cards, postcards and more.

I also got a glimpse of Danno's childhood. D&D figurines, lots of computer discs, comic books, board games and this holiday outfit he wore as an infant

How cute is this?

I also found gadgets given as past Birthday and Christmas presents that were placed in the basement due to lack of kitchen space. Many of them forgotten until now. I'm trying to figure out where to put the Cocoa Latte set that my sis-in-law gave me for Christmas one year. Lattes! I can't believe I chucked that into the basement. What was I thinking??

A total of 4 boxes were donated to Goodwill and the basement doesn't look much different. But I suppose years of accumulation doesn't diminish in a matter of hours. It will take more time and trips down memory lane to clean.

Yellow Flowers and Yellow Birds

2011-08-15T15:19:00.007-05:00

As you recall, I was feeling blue and complaining about the flowers starting to die off in my last entry. Well, this morning the prairie shouted a late summer reminder to me.

Good grief how did I forget about the Sweet Coneflower (Rudbeckia subtomentosa)?

This beauty is in the Asteraceae family and the same genus as the Black-eyed Susan, Brown-eyed Susan as well as the Rough Coneflower, and Orange Coneflower. The Sweet Coneflowers bloom July - October. But I think their bloom time was delayed a bit due to our dry summer. However the day of rain last week was all it took to coax the flowers to open up. These flowers are also very fragrant and they permeated the air with their sweet smell.

And while the Common Yellowthroats and most of the Indigo Buntings are gone, the sweet chatter of the American Goldfinches was yet another reminder that not every bird leaves once the summer is nearly over.

The American Goldfinches breed later in the summer than the other birds. They time their nesting cycle to the blooming of milkweed, thistle, coneflowers and a few other plants. They use these plants for nesting material and feed the seed to their young. I've seen many a goldfinch on my Purple Coneflower and Sweet Coneflower eating the seeds, not to mention witnessing the same spectacle on the prairie.

Today reminded me that the transition from late summer to early fall is filled with its own beauty and I just need to keep my senses open to the changing seasons.

End of Summer Blues

2011-08-10T16:44:00.002-05:00

I've been in a slump since the conference. Well, the slump really began a week or two before the conference, but the blahs have been more pronounced this week. This is the first week I haven't done a bird census or checked nest boxes. Yes, I'm still mist netting and will do so until the end of August. But essentially, my work season is over, and for me, that means the end of summer.

I love spring and summer. I enjoy watching the progression of trees leafing out and flowers budding, the influx of spring migrants and the accompanying cacophony of bird song. The dragonflies, butterflies, cicadas, warm weather, and long hours of daylight. While the cicadas are beginning to hit their peak, the songbirds are leaving, most of the flowers have bloomed and are beginning to die off and the days are slowly losing their long hours of light. Blech.

I've been uninspired and a lazy lump. I need to start number crunching and writing my report because I'm going to present my findings at a conference in December, but I just can't get motivated. I've wanted to blog the last few days, but the topics and words have evaded me.

Not much to say. Just in a slump.

Lessons learned from my conference

2011-08-05T18:59:00.006-05:00

Yesterday I returned home from the "Midwest Bird Monitoring" conference that was 2-1/2 days long. This conference was primarily run by the U.S Fish and Wildlife Service and was a bit different from conferences I've attended in the past. This conference didn't center around research projects and new techniques, but rather the administrative end of bird conservation. I learned some new lessons on this trip and here are the conference and non-conference things I learned.

1) Apparently having "resort" in the hotel name gives them license to overcharge for an average-sized room with less-than-adequate air conditioning, a smaller than expected dining room that over charges on average food from a limited menu. Which leads to:

2) Resort in the hotel names just means the place sits on a beach.

3) Government agencies speak almost exclusively in acronyms. I don't think I've ever heard so many acronyms spoken in a single sentence. For example, I overheard the following statement in a conversation:

"We have a JV (joint venture) with PIF (Partners in Flight) and an NGO (non-government organization)."

The following sentence was in one of my handouts:

"Coordinate with USDA (US Dept of Agriculture) NRCS (National Resources Conservation Service) and FSA to determine how to create a better grassland core and matrix for bird conservation."

I still don't know what FSA means.

4) Children who are noisy after 9pm annoy me much much more than children who are noisy before 9pm.

5) Many of the biologists at the conference had the responsibility of determining how to manage their land based on bird population models. The statistics that predict a future population number of a given bird species looked frightening. I didn't realize that enormous responsibility hinged on so much math and computer science. I'm glad I'm just a field grunt who gets to hold birds and kiss them on the head. Which in turn leads to:

6) I may be just a field grunt, but the numbers from my bird census and mist netting is a meaningful contribution to the Midwest melting pot of bird conservation and I'm grateful there are computer gurus who know how to manipulate all that data.

7) Bird Whisperer knows how to liven up a long car ride and make a trip fun. Chick-in-charge knows how to read people and is a very patient person.

8) My pillow at home is what is causing my persistent neck pain. My neck did not hurt once during the entire trip and after one night at home in my own bed, I woke up with neck pain...again.

The conference was overwhelming in the sense that a large number of techniques on measuring bird numbers and ideal habitat were casually tossed about which in turn meant that a lot of mathematical formulas were thrown at me. I understood just enough to realize that I'm falling short on my little prairie because there is so much more I can do, so much more I can measure and I don't have many resources to show me these lessons.

Help.

An assault to the senses

2011-08-02T21:01:00.003-05:00

Back in June, Bird Whisperer, Chick-in-Charge and I decided to go to a Midwest Bird Conference up near Chicago. The conference was to take place in a resort within a state park the first week in August. We drove up yesterday and arrived early evening. As we were driving through town we noticed several downed trees and signs warning the public beach was closed. We pulled up to the resort parking lot to find not only signs stating the trails and part of the beach were closed, but there was roofing and other construction materials on the side of the building.

An odd smell struck my nose when we entered the lobby. I can't even describe the odor. It wasn't exactly a musty smell, nor did it have that burning rubber smell that accompanies a roof repair. But part of the aroma concoction smelled stale. When we checked in, we learned there was a pretty serious storm within the last 5 days with tornado-like winds. These winds tore the shingles off the resort roof and destroyed part of the roof on the building that houses the swimming pool. Not only did this storm bring down trees and other vegetation, thus closing the trails, but it flooded the resort basement as well.

We all were placed on the same floor with our rooms fairly close together. My room was warm, very warm. I discovered the AC/Heating unit was on the fan setting so I switched it to "high-cold". I was concerned this was going to be a problem so I went over to Bird Whisperer's room to compare notes on the room temperature. Her room was also stuffy so I figured it would just take time for my room to cool down. After dinner and a walk on the resort beach (the part that wasn't closed of course) I returned to a persistently warm room. After calling Bird Watcher and learning her room had sufficiently cooled off, I went downstairs to request a new room. I was placed on a different floor, but the AC was newer and the room cooled off in no time.

The trouble began not long after I moved into my new room. For about a half hour a continuous stream of people checked into their rooms on my floor. There was a great deal of talking, door slamming and foot stomping during that time. I was mildly annoyed, but figured the noise would eventually die down. No it did not.

For the next hour-and-a-half there were kids noisily running up and down the hall, giggling teens talking and knocking on various doors to grab their friends and more door slams. And of course the room next to mine was filled with noisy kids. I fumed for those 90 minutes. Where were the parents of these kids? Surely they could hear the ruckus these children were creating. Why wasn't anyone coming out to grab these little heathens by the collar to tell them to shut it? I don't have children, so I honestly don't know what noise level is acceptable in a home, but was this how these kids behaved at home?? And it was after 10pm. Did they really need to be running up and down the hall at this hour?? Why were they even running up and down the hall? Around 10:30 there was a loud crash in the next room, causing my wall to vibrate. What were they doing? Slamming each other against the wall?

I stormed downstairs. Normal kid behavior or not, I had it with the noise and shenanigans. I all but yelled at the guy behind the desk about my noisy neighbors and the general chaos that was on my floor. He calmly took in my disheveled appearance that goes with bedtime and agreed to at least speak with my neighbors. Of course there was only 1 kid in the hall (there had been 3 when I went downstairs) when the desk man came upstairs, but he did talk to my next door neighbors and got them to pipe down.

I was very irritable this morning at breakfast.

"How'd you sleep?" Chick-in-charge asked me.

"Terrible." I snarled before filling her in on the events from the previous night.

"Well, the swimming pool is closed because of the roof damage. That really limits what the kids can do with their energy." Chick replied diplomatically.

"When I was a kid and we went on vacation, my mother never allowed us to tear up and down the hallway at any time unattended." I grumbled.

Good grief, at what point in time did I begin my sentences with "when I was a kid"? Was I that old already to be making those statements?

"Some of those people probably don't go on vacation very often so they're excited and don't think about others and the noise they may be creating." Bird Whisperer said.

I snorted and told Bird Whisperer she was kinder and had more patience than I did in those matters.

I went up to the front desk and asked to be moved to a different room yet again. In all my years of travel, I don't think I have ever switched rooms and here I had changed rooms twice in less than 24 hours. I was placed back on the same floor with Chick-in-Charge and Bird Whisperer, but this time I was at the end of the hall. The room smells like musty mothballs and the AC doesn't work as well as it should, but the room is comfortable. I can overlook these deficiencies if it means my hallway is quiet and run-free.

I hope that it's quiet tonight.

Packing

2011-07-31T09:21:00.002-05:00

This week I'm going to a conference out of town. I'm just going to be gone 3 nights and returning the 4th day. Packing is not a simple task for me because I'm a worrywart and need to pack for every situation that has happened to me in the past and caught me unprepared.

For example, a few years ago, a group of us traveled to Oklahoma to mist net with Country Girl's parents, who ran their own banding station. As we all know, it is difficult to eat decent on a road trip as there are more places off the highway offering fried foods, than better-for-you fresh foods. If I'm not mistaken, we had breakfast at McDonald's and lunch at Burger King and when we arrived at Country Girl's parents house, we ate yet more fried and fast food. I was fine for the mist netting and the rest of the day, but later that night, all the junk food eating caught up with my sensitive stomach. I spent most of the night in the bathroom with things...ahem...coming out the "south end" if you catch my meaning. We left for home the following morning and it was a miserable ride home.

Another time, Danno and I went to Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon for vacation and one morning I ate a breakfast item that contained a great deal of dairy, which is a no-no for someone like me, who is lactose intolerant. I didn't have my Lact-aid pills on me, which helps me digest the lactose in dairy products, but I figured I would be ok, since I had not consumed any dairy on the trip. Boy I could not have been more wrong in my assumption. Of course that was the morning we decided to drive into Sedona and went up and down several narrow windy roads. I thought for sure I was going to hurl during that drive, but I somehow managed to hold it together.

Zantac, Pepto-Bismol and Lact-aid now go into the suitcase with every trip and once I'm at my destination, I will take Zantac daily, whether I need it or not. There's nothing more miserable than GI problems on a trip.

Other maladies I've experienced and now pack for are headaches, backaches, blisters and sleeplessness. In go the Tylenol, Tylenol-PM, Moleskin and bandaids. I pack extra pants, socks, underwear and a raincoat to boot when I'm traveling.

I just finished packing here is a summary of the thoughts that flew through my mind at the speed of sound all the while running back and forth, up and down the stairs and under the bed, throwing things in the suitcase.

"Let's see, I've got my nice clothes packed for the conference days. I don't want to look like a slob. But what if everyone goes out to dinner afterwards? The itinerary said dinner optional. Does that mean I need to change? Good grief that means 2 changes of clothes for each day!"

Then I'm combing through my closet looking for dresses and skirts and then looking at the space left in my suitcase.

"Screw it. I'm still going to look nice enough for dinner. It's not the end of the world if these people see me in the same clothes for dinner. I may not even want to be social after 8 hours of workshops."

Then I begin to worry about the "driving day" clothes. The clothes that are comfortable for the hours long drive to and from the conference. No one but my bird friends are going to see me in my dress downs and since they've already seen me sweaty, muddy with bird poop on my shirt (and sometimes pants) I'm not too concerned with my appearance. This time I'll actually be clean and NOT smell! Two t-shirts and a pair of jeans are tossed in the suitcase.

Then I worry about entertainment for myself during the down time.

"Do I take my nook or one of the books Wewa sent me for my birthday? Hmm. I could take both. What if I don't like the book I pick? At least I'll have something else to read in case that happens and there are several books stored in the nook."

AND

"Ohh I should take a crossword puzzle book and my ipod. Crap where is the charger for my nook? And my phone? And my camera batteries? And pencils. I'll need to take pencils and pens with me."

For the next few minutes I run around in search of my ipod, phone and camera battery chargers which are all found and placed in my camera bag. Pencils, pens and pencil sharpener are located and dropped in the bag as well.

"Hm, what am I forgetting? Oh! Notebook to take notes and my travel journal. I can't forget those."

I'm all over the place with packing because the next thing I'm worrying about is hats and hair accessories and how to pack my tube of shaving cream, which won't fit in either my travel case or in a ziplock sandwich bag. Ball cap, headband and ponytail holders are found and packed. Shaving cream is placed in a sock at the bottom of the suitcase.

My thoughts return to the electronics. I double check to make sure the power cord is in with the laptop, verify that I have extra camera batteries and memory cards as well as the memory card adaptor for the laptop.

I've packed my extra pair of glasses, face cream, deodorant, and toothbrush but no toothpaste. Dang I knew there was something I was forgetting to pack.

My addiction to Facebook

2011-07-30T08:44:00.003-05:00

I have a morning ritual that usually involves Facebook. After getting dressed and brushing my teeth, I grab a bite to eat before sitting down to look at Facebook. First I hit the news feed to see what my friends have been up to over the last 12 hours. Reading the news feed includes reading and replying to statuses and photos, reading links to articles and blogs my groups (such as National Geographic or NPR) post, and sometimes re-posting these articles.

I do like the groups option on Facebook. Not only can you keep up on the news of the nationally known organizations of your choice (such as Smithsonian, NASA and the like) but many local businesses have thrown their hats into the Facebook arena giving you the opportunity to learn more about their events. For example, I belong to the group of an independent bookstore and they frequently post author signings and sales. And of course, belonging to the TV stations helps when you forget your favorite TV show is on and the station posts a reminder about that program ;)

Then I go to the "Games" tab. Facebook gamers know the Games page is the clearinghouse where your fellow game players put in requests for materials needed for quests in their games such as Mafia Wars, Farmville, Frontierville, Cityville and the like.

Then I hit my games Frontierville, Farmville and Cityville. While these games have very different settings, they do have some overlap. In Frontierville, the goal is to create a settlement town. Your town has an Inn, Foundry, Blacksmith, Saloon, Post Office and more. Of course you have your own home as well as crops and animals to tend. The game offers different quests, such as the series devoted to a couple getting married (helping the man find the perfect ring, creating a dress for the bride and decorating the chapel). Other quests focus on gathering components for a new barn or an addition to the Inn.

Farmville is all about planting crops and creating foods, such as pies, cakes and beverages. Farmville recently added a workshop where you can create fences, food for your animals, tractor parts and the like. You can obtain gasoline for your harvesters, experience points and mastery points for your crops if you buy goods from your neighbors as well.

In Cityville you are given the task of creating your own modern city, complete with hotels, apartment complexes, neighborhoods, schools and businesses.

I've often asked myself just what it is that has got me hooked on Facebook and there is no one reason. From the people perspective, I love being able to see what my friends are doing. I laugh and marvel over the humor and creativity in their posts.I enjoy looking at the pictures of their families, trips and every day life. I say prayers and try to offer words of support for those going through difficult times and I offer encouragement and praise for those who are in the midst of achievements. In essence I enjoy the fly-on-the-wall view of the daily lives of my friends.

I like to share what's going on in my life as well. Facebook is a place where I can share my passion of photography and my love for the birds and all things wild. Often times, I'll be working out in the field and be in the midst of a beautiful field of flowers, or holding a bird and think "Man, I've got to share this on Facebook!" and pull out my phone to take a picture, or download photos later from my digital camera. I want to share what I see, what I'm thinking. In terms of conservation and wildlife, I feel sharing my experiences is a passive way of teaching. It's a non-threatening, non-judgmental way of educating my friends and anyone who may be peering in, on the wonders of the natural world and the importance of preserving it for future generations.

In terms of the games, well, I think those satisfy my cataloging and collecting quirks. If I collect x-number of parts, I will complete this building, and if I plant and harvest x-number of crops, I complete this quest and get that reward.

So yes, I am addicted to Facebook. I probably, well, I do spend more time on it than I should but there are worst things to be hooked on...like World of Warcraft. And I'm addicted to that as well.

War by Sebastian Junger

2011-07-27T15:16:00.003-05:00

The U.S. has been in Afghanistan and Pakistan for over 10 years now and I've grown increasingly interested in this war. To be honest (and I know several of you are going to shake your fists at me for saying this), I find the politics of this war confusing, because I know there is more to this war on terror than meets the eye and I believe there is much more going on behind the scenes than is being reported. I believe there is a great deal the public does not know.

The aspect of this war that I'm drawn to are the men and women that are fighting on the front lines. These are the people carrying out the orders from the White House and they are the most affected by the decisions of our elected officials. I wanted to know the day to day life of our soldiers as well as the physical and psychological impact this war is having on them.

The book War by Sebastian Junger fulfilled my desire for that firsthand knowledge and more. Sebastian Junger, a contributing editor to Vanity Fair and the New York Times, made 5 visits over the course of 15 months to a platoon in the Korengal Valley from 2007-2009 at a time when this was the most violent posting during the war. According to the book, "...nearly 1/5th of combat experienced by the 70,000 troops in Afghanistan was being fought by the 150 men of Battle Company in this outpost. 70% of the bombs dropped in Afghanistan were dropped in and around the Korengal Valley during this time period."

Junger covers the primitive living conditions of the soldiers (for example, no running water), the group dynamics of the platoon, not to mention the danger these men faced on a daily basis. He went into some detail of the soldiers constantly policing themselves. In war, there is little room for error or oversight. An untied shoe could trip a soldier during an ambush, thereby jeopardizing not only his life, but the lives of his comrades. A soldier who left a jacket behind in a village could mean that that article of clothing falls into the hands of a Taliban soldier, who could now pass as an American soldier and kill someone.

Junger ties in ballistics and human reaction during combat. Obviously danger is an every day fact of life for our front line soldiers but what I didn't realize was the initial silence of that first gun shot. Time and again, a soldier would be killed in a mundane activity, such as cooking or walking across the post because he didn't hear that first shot in an ambush. According to Junger, if the enemy fires their weapon from a 300-400 yard distance, that bullet will travel that distance in about 1/2 second, or 2000mph. In every case a gun is fired, the solider has to rely on sight rather than sound because the sound of the gunshot is heard a full second AFTER it is fired. The brain requires 2/10th of a second to understand the visual stimuli and another 2/10th second to react, and in that span of time, the bullet has traveled at least 30 feet.

Although he touches upon it frequently throughout the book, Junger spends the last chapter on the concept of Brotherhood that the soldiers share and few civilians can truly understand. This passage seemed to describe Brotherhood for me.

"As defined by soldiers, brotherhood is the willingness to sacrifice one's life for the group. Brotherhood has nothing to do with feelings, it has to do with how you define your relationship to others. It has to do with the profound decision to put the welfare of the group above your welfare...who you are entirely depends on your willingness to surrender who you are."

Junger is a champion to our military men and women and gives voice to the issues they face both in war and in civilian life. If you want to know what a soldier looks at in battle and get a glimpse at what goes on in their heads, I recommend this book. I have no doubt Junger will continue to campaign for the causes of our soldiers and our men and women of uniform could not have a better ally on their side.

Firelands, part one

2011-07-26T18:04:00.013-05:00

Nearly a year has passed since Silverwolfe and her friends killed the Lich King. The heroes left the icy continent of Northrend after slaying the undead king and experienced a brief reprieve from the violence, enjoying the relative peace in their homelands of Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdom on the world of Azeroth. But little did they know of the trouble that was forming beneath their feet.

A long time ago, the titans created the Elemental Plane within the Twisting Nether to imprison those elementals and spirits who tried to destroy Azeroth. This plane consists of 4 regions for each of the elements; The Skywall (air), Deepholm (earth), The Abyssal Maw (water) and the Firelands (fire). Deep within The Temple of Earth in the elemental plane of Deepholm, the Twilight Hammer sect was aiding the dragon Deathwing in his recovery from his last fight with the armies of Azeroth, hammering their new creation of elementium armor onto the dragon.

Deathwing awoke in late fall, erupting from Deepholm into the world above, leaving much destruction in his wake and creating a rift between the Elemental Plane and Azeroth. Elementals imprisoned for centuries poured out and wreaked havoc on the people of the Eastern Kingdom and Kalimdor. More specifically, the powerful fire lord Ragnaros ordered his minions to set fire to the World Tree of Nordrassil, a tree sacred to the Night Elves and the last symbol of healing for the world of Azeroth.

The druids of the Cenarion Circle and their Horde and Alliance supporters fought these fiery enemies and not only push Ragnaros' minions away from the World Tree, but managed to set up a foothold in the Firelands. The Avengers of Hyjal, a quickly growing group of warriors, healers and magic users, want to push past the gates of Ragnaros lair and destroy this elemental lord.

Silverwolfe and her friends joined forces with The Avengers of Hyjal and agreed to go in and clean house with the goal of eventually slaying Ragnaros. There are many savage monsters and demons that roam the fiery reaches of this plane and freely patrolling this domain was the hunter Shannox and his 2 animal companions Riplimb and Rageface.

The group was warned of Shannox and his pets and as they were to find out, Shannox was not only a big demon but his dogs were relentless with a penchant for mauling faces. Silverwolfe was given the task of keeping her paladin friend Sabie alive who was fighting Shannox and this was no easy task, given all the cruel tricks this hunter had up his sleeve.

All hunters of Azeroth use various types of traps to capture their prey or snare their enemies and Shannox was no exception. He frequently threw immolation traps that dealt an incredible amount of fire damage when stepped on and made the victim more vulnerable to additional damage. He also threw down crystal traps that encased the unsuspecting hero in a red crystal tomb.

Here an unlucky person is encased in a crystal trap.

Shannox enjoyed toying with the band of heroes and often involved his dogs in this game. From time to time the hunter would hurl his mighty spear for Riplimb to fetch. When it hit the ground, the spear would cause the ground to erupt into fire, causing injury to anyone within 50 yards of the weapon's reach. When the spear was thrown, Riplimb would break away from his enemy (his opponent being Silverwolfe's friend and fellow druid Catballou) to retrieve the spear and return it to Shannox.

Silverwolfe felt for her friends because while she was healing Sabie, she saw and heard the ravages of the dogs. Catballou was able to maintain the attention of Riplimb, but Rageface was uncontrollable, running from person to person, stunning them and knocking them down before tearing at their faces. Before long, Silverwolfe fell victim to Rageface as well.

Luckily her friends were able to keep her alive through the ordeal and managed to pull the dog off the healer. When Rageface was killed, Shannox got angry. He roared and called upon the Fire Lord to increase his strength.

Angsti, the priestess of Elune joined healing forces with Silverwolfe to keep Sabie alive. Shannox was growing weary from his multiple injuries, turning the tides in favor of the group, but the fight was growing more difficult as well, for the more damage Shannox took, the more frenzied Riplimb became at the sight of his wounded master.

When Riplimb was finally slain, Shannox screamed and hurled his spear into the ground, catching the entire group in a wave of molten eruptions.

See all those little fireballs in the background? Yeah, Shannox spear did that and the picture doesn't do the immensity of the fire justice.

In the end, the wounds inflicted on Shannox did him in and the group successfully killed the hunter. There are many more monsters to slay and powerful enemies to defeat in this place. But those are battles for another day. For now, Silverwolfe and her friends are recovering from their injuries and resting before rejoining The Avengers of Hyjal.

I swear they smell my fear

2011-07-22T09:50:00.004-05:00

Well, I'm pretty much back into bee phobia mode. I grew up terrified of bees and for half my field work career, I ran the other way when I encountered a bee or went out of my way to avoid them. I would say I outgrew the phobia about 2 summers ago. I was confident around the bees and I didn't go out of my way to avoid them. But that damn sting last week knocked me down a few pegs.

I was out bright and early this morning to check nest boxes and band chicks. I had just pulled 3 chicks out of a nest box when a BUMBLE BEE landed on the box.

I inwardly cursed, but hoped by the time I finished banding the chicks, the bee would have moved on. No such luck. I stood there for a few minutes and watched the bee move up and down the box. That bee wasn't going anywhere. So I called Bug Lady and asked her what I should do. She suggested I grab something with a handle and flip the lid off the box in attempts to scare the bee off. I asked her if the bee would come after me and sting me if I swatted at him. She didn't think it would sting me, but she knew I was a bit gun shy after my sting.

I shoved the lid off the box and while the bee did fly off the box, it returned to the box and flew towards the top.

Crap. What if it went INSIDE the box? To make a long story short, after consulting Bug Lady yet again, I obtained a towel to throw over the bee but managed to get Stream Girl to swat at the bee with the towel. That damn bee would NOT move! So I ended up placing the chicks inside the box and drilling the lid back on standing back as far as possible. That bee was a stubborn cuss. It sat there the entire time, even with the noise and vibration of the drill, it would not move.

I'm convinced these bees can smell my fear.

Dust Bowl Days

2011-07-18T18:36:00.016-05:00

The weather here has been crazy hot and has me reminiscing over the trip I took this spring to Kansas, Oklahoma and a small part of New Mexico. It was my "Dust Bowl tour" and these were the states that were hit the hardest by the Dust Bowl. I've become a bit of a history buff, especially interested in the history of the American West, and any history on man's impact on nature.

The book "The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl" by Timothy Eagan inspired my trip. Back in 2000, I spent half the summer working in the Oklahoma panhandle and the northwest portion of New Mexico and Eagan's book mentioned many towns that I drove through that summer. I remembered the abandoned buildings that dotted the landscape along the long stretches of empty highway. Were some of those empty houses, barns and sheds remnants of the Dust Bowl era?

Last fall I started reading books, researching the Dust Bowl online and calling small town city halls. I wanted to visit and see any old houses or farmsteads that were still standing. I wanted to stand on the same land that was buried under dirt during those difficult times, to see what a homesteader may have seen over 60 years ago.

On my trip I spoke with a Dust Bowl survivor, visited several Historical Societies and Museums to read old newspaper articles and spent an incredible day exploring abandoned homesteads that served as homes during those dark days. I kept a journal and took a lot of photographs. Here are excerpts from my journal and a few photographs. To respect the privacy of those who owned the homesteads, I omitted photos of specific buildings but don't worry, there will be a picture or two from that day.

So here is the journal. I apologize if it jumps around but to save space, I'm limiting it to excerpts of the meat of the day.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

...I headed for Hugoton, KS. I spoke with Ms. G.R, the curator of the musuem on the phone back in November and she sent me a packet of information. I went in this afternoon and introduced myself. She vividly remembered the Dust Bowl days (she graduated from High School in 1941). She recalled frequently shoveling dirt out of the house that was shin-deep. She remembered a time when the ceiling came crashing down because the attic became so heavy with dirt. She told me the ceiling did not have wood back then but were rather made of plaster. Ms. R said the house didn't have a basement, but her dad dug a basement under the house and they spent most of their time in that dug-out basement to avoid the dirt...Ms. R said Saturdays were shopping days when most people went to the Market to buy, sell or barter goods. Many people traded their eggs, cream, milk and butter to the grocery store for fresh vegetables. It was a beneficial trade on both ends because the grocery stores usually did not carry those dairy products and there were people in town who bought those goods.
I mentioned to Ms. R that I came across a dilapidated store on the highway around Woods, KS. She said it was an old gas station that was closer to town during the Dust Bowl Days. When it went out of business, a couple bought the building and moved it to Woods, KS but has since been abandoned once the couple died.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Yesterday I went to the Herzstein History Museum in New Mexico and met up with the museum curator and her staff. The museum didn't have as much information on the Dust Bowl as I had hoped, but the photos and articles they did have were amazing. There was a display on Black Sunday in addition to other photos. I scanned a few photos and an article.

Photos from the Herzstein History Museum in Clayton, New Mexico

Newspaper clipping at the Herzstein History Museum

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Yesterday was an awesome day. Peregrinus (Country Girl and her beau Peregrinus came into town on Friday night) hooked me up with a colleague who had access to several homesteads that were active and in existence during the Dust Bowl Days....Some of the houses were still made with sod!

Most of the outer walls of these houses were made with sod and plastered over with chicken wire holding the plaster up.

Some of the inner walls and ceilings of these houses consisted of thin wooden slates covered with plaster. Most of the houses were in some form of disrepair; holes in walls, walls missing, broken window panes, screens hanging off doors, missing shingles, holes in the ceiling or roof. But almost all the houses were in good shape. The barns back in the 30s (and probably 20s and 40s as well) were multi-functional, holding grains, farm equipment and sometimes even animals. The barns that housed grains often had wires supporting the walls because the walls tended to bow out when holding the weight of grain...

Most of the houses contained evidence of inhabitants; a table, a mattress with exposed springs, torn up carpet, a suitcase left behind, a broken telephone, even an early 20th century washing machine.

We spent an extra few minutes bird watching at each of the homesteads. I finally got to see Barn Owls again after 11 years. More than half the sites had Barn Owls that we flushed out upon entering a building. It was nice to see them floating on the air once again.

I spent a bit of time with Peregrinus and Country Girl birdwatching at a beautiful state park over the weekend and in addition to the owls, hawks, meadowlarks, horned larks and other songbirds, we saw pronghorn, big horn sheep (introduced into the area) and even a few donkeys. The homesteaders were drawn to the Great Plains for the fertile soil and their actions altered the landscape, but even so, I find this area beautiful.

I enjoyed my trip in this portion of the Great Plains, there is definitely an allure for me to the small towns. It wasn't unusual for someone to stop and ask if I need help when I was pulled over on the shoulder of the road to take a photograph, bird watch or read a historic marker, watching people wave and speak with each other in restaurants and stores and being approached in these same places to see where I was from and share their stories once I told them the purpose of my visit. I loved the personal stories from Ms. R, the various museum curators and the proprietors of the Bed and Breakfast establishments that I stayed in. I heard so many town stories I don't think I would have read in any book. Time definitely does seem to slow down in a small town and I wonder if the manners, closeness and overall atmosphere was the same today in these towns as it was back in the 30s.

I'm not finished with my Dust Bowl Tour. I need at least one more trip and I can't wait to go back in time to explore the past in this part of the states.

A Natural Misunderstanding

2011-07-17T13:30:00.007-05:00

Well crap...my last post was December 17th. How did THAT happen? Every time I go several months without posting, I swear that I will be better about blogging and it just doesn't happen...so I will just say I will do the best I can.

I had two interesting encounters with nature this week. Tuesday morning I was out on one of my prairies doing a bird census. Right now, the grasses and flowers are reaching their peak in terms of blooms and height. A good portion of this prairie has plants that are at least 6 feet tall and I spend a great deal of time wading through this sea of grasses looking for birds.

Tuesday morning I was walking through a cluster of Bee Balm. As I passed through the flowers, I noticed several bumblebees and honey bees but paid them little attention. While I don't plow through an area full of bees, I don't go out of my way to avoid them. Usually the bees leave me alone as I pass. But not that day. I was in the midst of walking through these flowers when I felt a sharp pain on my upper thigh. A stinging pain, as in a bee sting.

Not the actual offending bee, but probably his brother.

I'm glad there was no one around because I'm not sure I would have wanted someone to over hear the rather loud conversation I had with myself.

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow!" I shouted, wondering if I walked through a patch of thorns. But the pain persisted. In fact, it got worse. I looked down and found a bumble bee on my thigh.

"Oh my God bee! Get off me!!" I screamed, brushing the now dead bee off my leg.

"Ow ow ow ow. Holy $hit!!" I continued, practically running through the dense prairie vegetation as if to outrun the pain. Um, no. You can't outrun a bee sting on your thigh or any part of your body for that matter.

I slowed down and continued my bird census in a bit of a daze. I got stung! In the 10 years of field work of outrunning angry wasps flying around nest boxes and walking through fields of bees, I had NEVER been stung. NEVER. Even in childhood, I had somehow managed to avoid stinging insects. And now, the sting-free record was broken. In a way, I had prided myself in avoiding stings all these years. I got sunburns, poison ivy rashes, mild dehydration, an occasional back strain and endless mosquito bites but NEVER a bee or a wasp sting.

When I got home, I found a large red area at least 4 inches in diameter on my thigh. I kept ice on my wound and whined about it most of the day. The pain lasted most of the day but finally subsided by the time I went to bed. By the next morning, most of the irritation had disappeared and the sting site only hurt if I poked it.

Today I went out to the Ecology Center to set up mist nets for Monday. My equipment is kept in a small room in the office basement and when I went in the room to grab my bird box, there was a bumble bee crawling around on the floor. I put my equipment next to the door, grabbed a cup and a laminated piece of paper and warily approached the bee. I put the cup over the bee.

BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ

The cup vibrated, causing me to flinch with each angry buzz.

Now I had to slip the laminated paper under the cup.

BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ

Oh my gawd if I failed in getting this bee outside, it was going to kick my a$$. So I called Bug Lady. This is a paraphrased version of our conversation:

"Hey Bug Lady. I'm at the Ecology Center and there's a bumble bee in the basement. I've got him trapped in a cup but I don't know how to release him."

"Do you have access to a broom?" she asked.

I frowned as I stared at the buzzing cup. What did she want me to do? Sweep the bee out? How was that going to work?

"Umm no. But there's a shovel outside. Should I get something softer like a broom?" I asked.

"No. The point is you want a long stick so when you take him outside, you're going to knock the cup over with the stick and get your buns back inside."

"Ohhh. Ok."

I brought the shovel in from outside and stuck it next to the door and willed myself to pick the bee up.

BZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZ

The angry buzzing nearly caused me to drop the cup/paper and filled me with fear. Holding this flimsy piece of paper wasn't the best idea. What if this bee decided to attack and sting the paper? My hand was right on the other side! I put the cup/bee/paper on a nearby table to pick up a garden glove when somehow the bee slipped out of the cup and began flying around the room.

I don't think I ever moved that fast running out of the basement to the safety of the outdoors. I'm pretty sure I blacked out while running because one moment I was staring at the bee and the next moment I was outside slamming the door shut in fear.

He's still in the basement and with my luck he's in my supply box waiting to ambush me tomorrow morning.

Lumpy Vanilla Extract Pie

2010-12-17T17:45:00.003-06:00

I've been on a cooking kick lately. This happens in cycles. I'll cook dinner for a few months before losing the mojo, get lazy and stop cooking. Inevitably through these cooking phases, I attempt to "bake" something. And without fail, I am reminded that not only is there a difference between baking and cooking, I am not a good baker.

I had a Christmas volunteer luncheon to attend today and I found what I thought was going to be an easy chocolate peanut butter pie recipe. So I thought I'd contribute to the luncheon with this pie.

I usually walk away with a valuable lesson after one of my baking disasters and this incident was no exception. I will preempt this in telling you that I try my best to buy organic food items. Organic fruits, vegetables, jams, cereals etc. While shopping for the ingredients, I was happy to find organic peanut butter. I noticed all of the jars had at least 2 inches of oil at the top. Upon examination, I found the statement Oil separation occurs naturally. To prevent, stir and refrigerate or freeze

"Ok", I thought, "Not a problem. I can do that."

NEVER EVER VEER AWAY TO TRY A DIFFERENT VERSION OF A BIG INGREDIENT OF YOUR RECIPE, ESPECIALLY IF IT'S A NEW RECIPE.

I went home with my ingredients and began to bake. Everything about the pie was made from the scratch, the crust, the filling, everything. I knew the crust was going to be a failure. I know few people who can successfully make a crumb pie crust. What I wasn't prepared for however, was the difficulty in making the filling.

The directions said to whisk the milk, corn starch, eggs and a few other ingredients together over medium heat. Does that mean I dump it all in at once and then whisk? Or gradually add each ingredient as I'm whisking away? I opted for the later and whisked until completely blended.

Then the recipe directed me to begin stirring to prevent lumps once the mix took on a pudding consistency. I peered at my bubbling concoction uncertainly before looking at my whisk. Did I stir with the whisk, or grab a spoon? And how would I know for sure when the mix turned from liquid to pudding?

In the time it took me to grab a spoon, the liquid did turn into pudding and the lumps began to form. I furiously stirred but the lumps multiplied and I couldn't keep up with the multitude of lumps that suddenly appeared in the pot. When the pudding began to boil and I was scraping pudding from the bottom of the pot, I gave up and figured the pie wouldn't LOOK pretty.

Then the recipe called for the addition of a few ingredients, one of which was 1 tablespoon of Vanilla Extract. That seemed like a lot of Vanilla Extract, so I double checked the list, but there was no misreading 1 tablespoon. Maybe that's not an unreasonable amount of Vanilla Extract, I don't know. Again, I don't bake very often.

Anyways, the second inkling of disaster began to dawn when I had to divide the lumpy filling into 2 bowls and add the peanut butter to one of the bowls. I had the unpleasant experience of peanut oil running down my hands when I opened the jar and the horror of finding more oil sloshing around in the jar. I dumped the oil and half the peanut butter into a different bowl and went for the last half of the jar, hoping that took care of the oil problem. There was still a bit of oil swimming amongst the peanut butter, but I could work with it. The consistency and taste of the organic peanut butter was different as well. The peanut butter was extremely thick and wasn't as sweet but the jar did say no sugar was added, and it wasn't a bad taste, just different.

After thoroughly mixing the respective chocolate and peanut butter bowls, I taste tested each one. The peanut butter filling was actually pretty good but the chocolate filling had a strong aftertaste of vanilla extract. It competed with and almost overtook the rich chocolaty taste. Danno offered the thought that perhaps the chocolate filling would taste better once it was combined with the peanut butter filling. Hoping he was right, I went ahead and finished the recipe. The pie looked terrible. Very lumpy and unlike the picture of the pie in the cookbook, which was firm and neat.

I refrigerated the pie overnight and pulled it out this morning for a small sample. Yes, there was a small bit of oil on top of the pie (sigh) but the worst was when I couldn't even cut a slice. The pie sloshed around the knife and I couldn't pull out the perfect pie piece. Instead I had to glop lumps of it on to my plate. The pie still had the vanilla extract after taste, but it wasn't nearly as strong as it was the previous night.

I decided to save myself the humiliation and left the pie at home. But if you want the Lumpy Vanilla Extract pie recipe, let me know.

Bird Feeders + Me = OCD

2010-12-14T13:42:00.004-06:00

Sometimes I don't realize how neurotic I am until I stop in the middle of the very thing I'm doing that makes me crazy to notice that it makes me crazy and I had that very thing happen this morning. We have had over a week of bone chilling, teeth chattering, cold weather and I have been worrying about keeping the birds outside fed.

We've discussed my Christmas ornament issues, and for those who weren't already aware, the flu season unleashes my germaphobe, hand washing idiosyncrasy (although I'm fairly certain those in the healthcare field would tell me I'm not crazy with all the hand washing). But perhaps the icing on the neurotic cake is my compulsion to keep the bird feeders full during those cold days when the thermometer hovers around the freezing mark.

The fretting doesn't begin until the forecast calls for highs in the mid-30s. Then I begin thinking about the birds in the neighborhood, most of which are insect and seed eaters. The worry kicks into overdrive when I think of the majority of insects that are dead and those few that aren't dead are in diapause and safely overwintering in some remote spot far from the reach of hungry beaks. My thoughts travel to the neighborhood gardens and how the seed supply must be pretty low or nonexistent at this point. Then I think about how much energy it takes for a bird to function during the day and survive a cold night. For example, did you know on a cold winter's night, a Black-capped Chickadee can lose up to 10% of it's body weight? That's OVERNIGHT people. So each day, that tiny bird must eat that much to compensate for what it lost overnight.

This is the point when I try my best to cater to the eating habits of my feathered friends. For example, Dark-eyed Juncos and White-throated Sparrows are exclusive ground feeders, meaning they will not fly up and eat from a feeder. They will only eat what is on the ground. Cardinals, Blue Jays and most Woodpeckers do not like tube feeders and their tiny perches (well, they're also too big for them as well). American Goldfinches strongly prefer thistle over other types of seeds (although I have seen them eat sunflower seed in very cold conditions). Black oil sunflower see d, peanuts and suet are high in fat which is important for the birds during the winter so I keep a steady stock. Woe is me if I let the supply run out and I see a huge flock of hungry birds pecking at seed crumbs in the feeders.

Every morning I go outside and fill a big feeder with a sunflower seed mix, throw out a few millet sprigs on the ground, check the suet and thistle feeders before tackling the peanut feeder (Picture of this feeder is in this entry). The Blue Jays have a habit of pecking the peanuts to get at the meat and leave the empty shell in the feeder. So I have to throw out the peanut shells before filling the feeder with fresh peanuts.

My neurosis is worst after it snows. All that seed under a layer of snow and/or ice. How are my ground feeding birds going to eat?? That's when I make it a point to scatter seeds on the window ledges and on the steps just outside the sliding glass door. Yes dear readers, I am that crazy. You may wonder what the payback is from all this fretting and feeding and for the non bird lovers, I'm sure it's difficult to understand. But I love watching the Blue Jays swoop down on the peanut feeder and make exaggerated pecking motions as they work to get their food. I enjoy listening to the chips and off-key tune of the White-throated Sparrows. And it's amazing to see at least a dozen or more Cardinals scattered through the yard.

I also like to think I'm contributing somewhat to the survivability of these birds during a time when some of these species struggle to compete for space with habitat fragmentation and urbanization. They need all the help they can get.

I know I'm a worrywart, but I figure this is a productive thing to worry about. I worry, I fill the feeders and the worry disappears...until the feeders are empty or it snows. Then we repeat the cycle.

Oh Christmas Tree

2010-12-05T08:42:00.003-06:00

I put my Christmas Tree up Wednesday afternoon and before I launch into the details of this story, I must tell you that I have been struggling with the decision on whether or not to put the tree up since November. I didn't put the tree up last year, or even the year before and I had this odd mixture of guilt for not putting the tree up and relief for the same reason. I like Christmas and the decorations that accompany the holiday. It's just that truth be told, I'm kind of lazy in the housekeeping department. I don't dust or vacuum as nearly as often as I should, the dishes stay in the sink a little longer than they should and I'm embarrassed to let my friends see the clutter that has accumulated on nearly every surface of the house. Putting a tree up means that is one more thing I have to put away.

Then there's the size of the tree and the volume of ornaments. My mom worked for a large department store chain for a while and at least twice a year they would have a "Sample Sale" where employees got dibbs on the merchandise before the public did. Anything that could fit in a large shopping bag was $5. You can fit a LOT of stuff in a bag for 5 bucks. So at least once a year (sometimes more often than once a year) my mom would bring me 2-3 bags filled with ornaments. It got to the point that I needed to buy a bigger Christmas tree. The last time I put the tree up, (which is a 7 footer) I had so many ornaments that I almost ran out of room on the tree. I think at that point I snapped and didn't put the tree up for 2 years.

This year I decided to only put up one box worth of ornaments (as opposed to the 4 boxes of various sizes) and rotate the boxes in the future. The first thing was lugging that huge tree upstairs. I swear that box gets heavier each year. Putting the tree up itself wasn't so bad because the tree is divided into 3 sections with the branches already attached. You just connect the sections, the branches fall into place and viola, you have yourself a tree. The only thing you need to do is fluff the branches and move them around.

The next biggest chore is putting up the lights. This is the part I hate the most because I'm somewhat of a perfectionist and can't just put the lights ANYWHERE on the tree. It took me an hour-and-a-half to string the lights. After putting up the tree and lights, I stopped for the day.

Thursday was ornament day. This is a big production. Each ornament is carefully wrapped in tissue or wrapping paper and must be unwrapped before being placed on the tree. But again, placing ornaments on the tree is no simple endeavor. The tree is divided into sections and each ornament is assigned to a section. The ugly ornaments are relegated to the back section (the one that faces the window to the world outside) of the tree while the iffy ones are in that tiny spot located next to the back of the tree. My prized ornaments, the ornaments that are beautiful or hold great sentimental value go on the front of the tree, that section that is easily seen from a seated position while those that come in a close second are off to the side. For simplicity's sake, I won't go into which ornaments go towards the top, middle or bottom. But yes, I am that neurotic. This took another hour-and-a-half, but I was finished.

So the tree is up and every evening at dusk, I turn the tree lights on and open the window blinds so everyone driving or walking can admire my beautiful tree.

Let's just hope I can get motivated enough to take the dang thing down before spring.

The Mutant Cricket

2010-10-30T11:42:00.003-05:00

It's funny the stories your brain can create when half asleep. 3am this morning I was rudely awakened by a very loud trilling noise. Within a minute I was about to drift back to sleep when the trill resonated within the room again.

TRRRRRILLLLLLLLL

WHAT was that? And where was it coming from? It seemed like it was from the left side of the room near the bathroom. It only seemed to sound every 30-60 seconds, leading me to believe it was an electronic device. Maybe Danno's ipod or his phone?

TRRRRRILLLLLLLLL

No, it definitely wasn't electronic in origin. It almost sounded like a...cricket.

TRRRRRILLLLLLLLL

I had never heard a cricket make such a loud or long noise. In my cricket-listening experience, their chirps were short and rapid, not long and loud like this one. But then most of the crickets I heard were during the summer, when it was hot. This was late October and it was cold outside.

TRRRRRILLLLLLLLL

Wow that was loud. Maybe it was a mutant cricket, big and black, at least 3 inches long (the average field cricket is 1/2" to 1" in length). I laid there and wondered how he got in. I was at the Ecology Center on Thursday exploring the woods and prairie with a group of kindergarten-aged children. Did he slip into a pocket while I was outside? When I returned home that day, I threw my uniform into the laundry hamper, which, incidentally sits on the left side of the room near the bathroom. But how could I have slept through him trilling Thursday night? And how in the world would I have not noticed a huge cricket like that jumping into my pocket? I could feel ticks crawling across my skin. Surely I would have noticed that behemoth of an insect jumping on me.

I pictured the cricket on the bathroom window, inside looking out, or maybe he was on the mirror. After another ear-splitting trill, I jumped up and turned the light on and all fell silent. Not another sound was heard. I laid down and stared up at the light that was burning through my pupils into my retina. I was not going to be able to sleep with a light blaring down on me.

I got up and turned the bathroom light on. That was better although there was still a light on in the room. But at least I could close my eyes and not have the light shining through my eyelids. As I laid there, I swore I could hear the patter of the enormous feet that belonged to that mutant cricket. He was on the mirror, tapping the lights with his long antennae. He was looking for something to eat, he was...

I jumped up and looked in the bathroom. No enormous cricket crawling on the window or tapping the lights above the mirror. I left the light on and closed the door. Not 5 minutes later I heard another trill, although the closed door brought the decibel level down to a manageable setting. The next time I looked at the clock it was 4 am.

That mutant cricket managed to steal an hour's worth of sleep from me.

Things overheard at a Brownie meeting

2010-10-06T14:46:00.002-05:00

A few months ago I took the plunge into the world of Girl Scouts. Bug Lady undertook leadership of her daughter's troop but needed a co-leader. I happily agreed as it would be a fun way to hang out with Bug Lady and her daughter.

Our troop began with 8 girls, but has recently grown to 13. It has been interesting, entertaining, frustrating and educating. There have already been a few interesting highlights, a few of which are hopefully, more to come.

At the end of one meeting, we were playing shadow charades. The girl creating the charade stands in front of a light and creates her charade, which is projected as a shadow on the wall behind her. Some of the girls were getting very specific with their animal charades, creating Labrador Retrievers or their aunt's calico cat and the like, prompting Bug Lady to create a few rules for the game.

"Let's keep this simple. No specific dog or cat breeds ok? No Labradors or Collies or Persian Cats. Not everyone knows what these dogs or cats are. And no using Uncles or cousins dogs and cats either. Maybe some of these girls don't know your Uncle or Cousin or know they have a dog or a cat." she said.

It's E's turn and she gets down on all fours and begins walking around.

"A spider?"

"No." E replies before pretending to eat.

"A dog!"

"Nope." This time E begins to lick her hand.

"A cat?"

"Tiger!"

"NO!"

Bug Lady and I looked at each other before I whispered "I think she's imitating a specific dog breed." She nodded but allowed the guessing to continue a bit longer before speaking up.

"Ok E. We give up. What are you?" Bug Lady asked.

"My Grandma's Boston Terrier Oreo." she replied.

Well, at least she wasn't her Uncle's Labrador Retriever.

At another meeting I was passing out Cheez-Its for snack time when one of the girls attempted to grab the box out of my hands.

"Excuse me." I said, holding the box just out of her reach. "That's not polite. What do you say?"

"Please may I have some Cheez-Its." She grunted.

C leans over and bumps shoulders with the offender before loudly saying "Did you say PLEASE? Or did you say CHEEZ?"

I roll my eyes and poured Cheez-Its onto both the girls plates.

Same girl, same meeting. One of the activities at the meeting was for each girl to lay on a piece of craft paper, have their outline traced before she decorated and colored her body outline. It was adorable, watching each girl, their faces serious with concentration, busily coloring with their little butts in the air. I started taking pictures of the girls but as I approached C, she sprang up like a prairie dog and flung her hand out to block my camera.

"NO! I'm not ready yet!" She protested.

"Ok, Ok." I replied, moving on to other girls.

Five minutes and across the room later, C bellowed "I'M READY!"

C sat next to her artwork and smiled before waving her hands around. "No! Wait! That's not right. Let me pose again."

She switched from a sitting position to laying on her side next to her decorated paper self. "That's better. Ok you can take my picture now."

At least she's not camera shy.

Yesterday's meeting focused on the Manners try it. Saying "please", "thank you" and the like. One of the other suggested activities is to throw a party that includes proper place settings on the table. We're throwing a party for 4 other Girl Scout troops in the school for the Manners try it and this was the first meeting to lay the groundwork for the party. Bug Lady gave each girl a place mat sized piece of paper on which they had to correctly set a paper plate, plastic fork, spoon, knife, cup and napkin. The girls were to draw or trace the setting on the paper once all the dinnerware was in the correct spot on the paper mat. The girls had correctly set their plates, utensils and cup and only the napkin remained.

Bug Lady wanted the girls to figure out the answer so rather than tell them where to place the napkin, she asked "What do you do before you eat?"

"Wash your hands!"

"Pray!"

The answers prompted a smile from Bug Lady and she conceded that these each were true. However, when one sat down, the napkin usually went on the lap.

"I don't put a napkin on MY lap when I eat." M said.

"I do!" C piped up. "I always drop mashed potatoes in my lap, chicken on my lap, gravy on my lap."

The party is November 3rd. I can only hope we make more progress at the next meeting. But that being said, it sure has been an entertaining ride so far in the school year. Wonder what the next several months are going to bring.

It's that time of the year again

2010-09-26T11:34:00.004-05:00

Each year as Fall approaches I begin to change some of my birdfeeding habits as Summer gradually turns in to Fall. I swap the safflower seed to sunflower seed when I know the Grackles have left the area (Grackles are bullies and will scare away most of the birds and have been known to kill the young bird not fast enough to hop out of their way. Grackles are unable to open Safflower seed with their bills and will give up on a feeder filled with the white seed) and put out suet for the Woodpeckers.

When the symphony of birdsong is reduced to the chips of sparrows and the tapping of woodpeckers as they search for food under tree bark, I listen for the return of the Blue Jays in my neighborhood. As soon as I hear their raucous calls, I place the peanut feeder out. It takes them a few days to find it, but when they do, they visit the feeder several times a day, carrying off a peanut or hammering away at a shell within the confines of the feeder to reach a tasty peanut.

I don't know what it is about Fall that makes me introspective and melancholy. I waver between enjoying Fall and hating its arrival. I miss the chorus of frogs, crickets, katydids and cicadas, the lazy blink of fireflies and the competing melodies of the birds. I long for the vibrant reds, blues, yellows and purples of the wildflowers and the long hours of light. I enjoy working outside and finding unexpected treasures such as a prairie kingsnake resting under a rock, a praying mantis sitting quietly on a leaf or watching a spotted fawn bound across the prairie with his mother.

But yet I enjoy the stillness of Fall, the chips of the returning winter sparrows, the crisp air and the rusted reds, oranges and yellows of the turning leaves. Fall is also the time I return to my habit of walking on the park trail that sits alongside the river. It is relaxing, peaceful to watch the river flow and the landscape reflect the colors of a beautiful sunset.

I am sad to see the flycatchers, warblers and hummingbirds leave with the summer, but I am delighted with the return of the mockingbirds, crows, sparrows and jays. Of course these birds are here year round, but in my neck of the woods, I only see the aforementioned birds during the fall and winter.

Well, whatever the reason for my ambivalence towards Fall, the antics of the Blue Jays at my peanut feeder make the season bearable.

M&Ms you disappoint me

2010-09-19T15:04:00.003-05:00

Danno and I were talking about candy the other day when I said "Man, I still miss M&Ms after over a year of boycotting."

I decided to boycott M&Ms after learning their suppliers use child labor. The other bad seed in this is Hershey, who also has some serious issues in buying from chocolate suppliers that employ the use of child labor. While some of the child labor stems from poverty (their families are so poor they need all the help they can get. So the children pitch in to help on the farm) there is quite a bit of child trafficking. Those who have known me a long time know that I LOVE my M&Ms but this was a small sacrifice to make on behalf of some child halfway across the globe slaving away to harvest something I don't need to be eating.

To quote verbatim from Ethical Consumer :

A study conducted in 2002 estimated that of about 284,000 children working in the West African cocoa industry, 200,000 were in the Côte d’Ivoire and a “substantial minority” of these children were found to have been trafficked from Mali, Burkina Faso, and Togo.(2) The same study found that some 10,000 children in the Côte d’Ivoire were victims of human trafficking or enslavement, whilst 109,000 worked under the “worst forms of child labour”. Since these figures were reported, however, it seems that absolute numbers are hard to come by. An Ivoirian government survey conducted in 2007 claimed that “fewer than 2% of children who work in cocoa production are not members of the household.”(3) From this data, which is perhaps questionable, it is difficult to assess how much progress has been made, despite the claims made by the Ivoirian government and the chocolate industry. The US Department of State reported people trafficking, forced labour, forced child labour, and hazardous child labour to have occurred in the country in 2007.(4) In August 2009, an INTERPOL operation resulted in the rescue of 54 children of seven different nationalities that were victims of organised slave labour in cocoa and palm plantations in the Côte d’Ivoire. INTERPOL described the trend in child trafficking and exploitation in the area as ‘increasing’.(5)

After a bit more digging I discovered that Mars, Inc and Hershey have not changed their ways, although Hershey has since claimed to commit to "responsible"cocoa growing, though they still cannot or will not trace the source of their cocoa through their suppliers.

Since my M&Ms boycott in January 2009, I've added Kit Kats and most Nestle products to the list. Although I still eat mainstream chocolate on occasion, I have switched to eating Endangered Species, Green and Black's, and Newman's Own chocolates. These chocolates are more expensive, but they taste so much better and I eat less of it.

I'll never be the perfect consumer of FairTrade chocolate but more than half of my chocolate purchases have the Fair Trade label. I know my boycott and careful chocolate purchases are small beans compared to the rest of the world, but it's better than doing nothing.

But dang it, I still miss my M&Ms.

Keys (part 2)

2010-09-16T15:06:00.004-05:00

Apparently I didn't learn my lesson with the car rental key incident in April. I've since had 2 more occurrences of key misplacement with the most recent event on Tuesday.

My mom went out of town for a few days, placing me in charge of feeding her cat for one day. (She has returned from her trip, allowing me to post this entry without worrying that someone who knows her will read this and break into her house) Tuesday morning I went over to her house to feed the cat. I only have 3 keys on my keyring; my car key, the house key and my mom's house key...or so I thought.

The first hint of trouble began when I inserted the key into the deadbolt and it wouldn't budge. The door is a bit older and I haven't unlocked it in a while, so thinking there was a trick to unlocking the door, I pulled the door, pushed the door and jiggled the doorknob while trying to turn the key in the lock.

I was deep in denial my friends. I wasn't mentally prepared for the fact that I had the wrong key. I shoved the key in the doorknob. I even went to the backdoor to try that lock (But the locked screen door thwarted my attempts.) After exhausting my attempts, I stared at the door, willing it to open while desperately trying to push the fact that I had the wrong key out of my mind. But there was no other alternative to veer me from the inevitable truth. To confirm I had the wrong key, I placed my house key into the lock and met the same results.

I had the wrong key.

I looked over to my left and found my mom's neighbor talking to the people who lived in the house next door to him. I was embarrassed that I didn't have mom's key and wasn't quite ready to ask him for help yet. So instead, I called my mother-in-law.

"You're never going to guess what has happened to me." I said as soon as she answered the phone.

"Uh oh." She replied.

"Do you have a key to my mom's house? I thought I had her key, but I don't. I'm standing at her front door."

"No, I don't. Is there a neighbor who may have a key?"

At this point I'm behind the bushes next to the door looking under a few large rocks in the hopes I would find a spare key.

"I don't think any of her neighbors has a key, but I know the next door neighbor. I could ask him for help." I replied.

"What about a window? Do you think she has an unlocked window?"

I hadn't thought of the possibility of an unlocked window. The chances of my mom leaving a window unlocked was pretty unlikely, but my choices were limited and I was getting desperate.

"I doubt it. She's got those new windows." I said. I pressed against the window next to the front door and it moved. "Hey! She does have an unlocked window!"

At this point Mom's neighbor was crossing the lawn with a perplexed look on his face. After explaining my predicament, he brought a step ladder that would give me an easier time climbing through the window.

I fed the cat without incident and climbed out the way I entered and closed the window.

Here's house key incident #2.

This occurred in May. I was supposed to meet 2 friends from work for an afternoon movie. I woke up in a lousy mood. I just wasn't feeling it, so to speak. I should have known the day was going to take a nosedive when I checked my car oil to find the dipstick bone dry and I couldn't open the oil lid. I tried opening it with a towel and then a wrench. The towel slipped around and the wrench was laughably small. At this point I was nearly in tears because I was already sad and not up to even the smallest challenge a day could sometimes throw your way.

I called one of the girls and told her I probably wouldn't make it because my car was out of oil and I couldn't open the oil lid. I told her I would continue to try the lid, but not to wait for me. After hanging up I went back into the house to get a different towel. A different plan was forming in my mind. I grabbed a towel that wasn't of terry cloth material and used my body for additional leverage.

"Come on you M&*F!!!" I said, pulling my body back along with the lid.

The plan worked and the lid came off. Elated, I poured the needed oil into the car and called my friend back. I was indeed going to meet them at the movies. I hung up and realized that I left my keys in the house. I went to the door adjoining the garage and found it locked. The damn door was locked. Cursing my luck, I called that poor girl back to say that I wasn't coming after all. I think this time I may have cried.

Like my mother-in-law, my friend suggested trying a window and again, I was skeptical, but was willing to try anything. The front windows were locked, but the side window was unlocked. Now here was the tricky part. The window was next to an elevated flower bed. If the window was directly under the flower bed, I would have been able to open the window and climb in.

But no such luck.

Before I go on further, I must tell you about the state of our yard, as it will come in to play here in a minute. Our yard is an urban jungle. It is overrun with honeysuckle, rose of sharon, winter creeper and a multitude of thick, shrubby vegetation. I've been working on clearing the backyard a little at a time the last few years, but I've neglected the side yard. And as a result, the side yard was nearly a thicket of young trees and other unidentifiable plants.

I retrieved a ladder and began the arduous task of shoving the ladder over the fence and through the tangle of limbs and leaves to place it under the window. We had had a bout of rain and the ground was very spongy. It seemed no matter where I placed the ladder, it either sank into the wet ground or leaned dangerously to one side. The area to place the ladder was very limited due to the aforementioned trees and thick shrubs. I picked the spot where the ladder wobbled the least and began to climb. I had one more obstacle, or rather 3 obstacles between me and the indoors.

The room I was about to enter was our office and under the window sat 2 computers and a TV. How was I going to get through the window and into the room without knocking the electronics over? And would the table on which the electronics sat be able to support my weight?

After carefully making my way past the wires and monitors, I jumped off the table and into the room, setting off the burglar alarm. (And when did I set the damn alarm?) When the alarm company called and asked if everything was ok, I could only laugh.

I have since locked that window, thus closing any opportunities for breaking and entering into my own home in the event I don't have my keys.

But what is the possibility of me losing my house keys again?

Maybe I shouldn't try my luck.

The fall of the King

2010-09-09T17:50:00.019-05:00

This blog has been long overdue for a World of Warcraft entry. This has been somewhat intentional, as I have been waiting until I was part of a group that successfully killed the Lich King. Two weeks ago our 10 man raid killed Lich King, and finally, last night, our 25 man raid killed Lich King.

There will be spoilers in this entry and for the few readers who read my blog, you can skip this one or for the even fewer readers who read this blog and play WoW, you've probably already killed the Lich King, or have read about it on one of the strategy websites.

But for those non-wow players who do decide to read this entry, I will try to make this as entertaining and interesting as possible.

You directly encounter Arthas in the Culling of Stratholme dungeon, where you are transported back in time to protect Arthas from the time keepers who want to destroy the would-be Lich King. However in present time, you can see the effects Arthas left in his wake during his rise as king of the undead in the Plaguelands and Stratholme (Well, Arthas wasn't responsible for the initial downfall of the Plaguelands and the city of Stratholme, but he did charge Kel'Thuzad with the responsibility of keeping the neighborhood chock full of undead things. But Kel'Thuzad appears in Northrend in the Wrath of the Lich King expansion).

Anyways, the continent of Northrend is a cold place filled with beauty, mystery, new allies and foes. The region of Icecrown, however, is a nasty place devoid of life where the Lich King rules over his undead minions. But there are members of the Horde and Alliance races who have set up camp in Icecrown that are dedicated to eradication of the Lich King and his unliving subjects.

Incidentally, the whole Arthas/Lich King thing confused me and still does to a point, but what I've figured out is that the Lich King is comprised of Ner'zhul, a dead shaman but now evil spirit and the physical body of Arthas Menethil. However, I still can't figure out exactly who is speaking and doing all the terrible things...Arthas or Ner'zhul or both?

Silverwolfe, (my druid healer) is in a large group comprised of healers, warriors and magic users intent on killing the Lich King. They storm the Lich King's castle and kill a bone wraith, undead lich, undead orc death knight, 2 flesh beasts, an undead mad scientist experimenting with poisonous gas clouds to eradicate all life in the world, a trio of conceited-even-in-death blood elves, a hungry vampire, an angry undead frost wyrm and rescue a LIVING dragon.

Phew.

After all that killin', Silverwolfe and her friends are teleported up to the throne room where they see Highlord Tirion facing the Lich King on his icy throne. (Be sure to note and remember the human chained above the Lich King's throne. From the screen shot it looks like a black X. This will be important later)

Look at Lich King, he's so smug. You just want to wipe the smirk right off that cold undead-ish face.

After some smack talk, Arthas the Lich King magically seals Tirion in an icy tomb and the battle begins.

The Lich King is a mighty foe, for while he is fighting one of our fearless warriors, he is inflicting diseases, shadow bolts, shockwaves and raising dead undead things on the rest of the group.

When he grows tired of the hand-to-hand combat with our warrior (we've whittled about 30% of his health down at this point), he begins casting Remorseless Winter, a nasty winter storm spell that deals lots of cold damage. He also begins summoning Raging Spirits which are actually aspects of an individual in the group. These suckers throw a mean punch.

Then he shoves his big bad sword Frostmourne (the marshmallow mace has been long replaced) into the ground which creates a huge quake and the edges of the platform fall away. And woe to the hero who is slow in leaving the crumbling edge...

At this point the heroes fall on the King with their swords, daggers, maces, staffs and deadly spells and he gets annoyed. Turns out the Lich King has many a minion up his sleeve. He begins summoning Val'kyr. They look like angels, but don't be fooled by their white visage or those lovely wings. Their soul, oops, sole purpose is to pick heroes up and fling them off the edge into the cold abyss.

The Lich King also casts a nasty spell (Defile) that looks like an oil spill on the ground that spreads when it comes into contact with warm bodies and does a crap load of damage.

So while you're trying to not get picked up by Val'kyr or trying to kill the Val'kyr that is heading toward the edge with a friend you have to try to avoid big nasty puddles of black goo. Thanks Lich King.

But Silverwolfe and her band of hero friend persevered and really pissed the Lich King off. He casts that Remorseless Winter spell again and summons more Enraged Spirits. When the Spirits are forced back into oblivion, we fall again the Lich King, but he's having none of that nonsense. This time his sword gets in on the action. After the Lich King drops a heavy amount of shadow damage on one poor hero, the sword sucks their soul in, where the hero finds the Lich King's father (did I mention that Arthas, the Lich King, killed his own father, Terenas?) and the two battle an evil spirit before the hero is returned outside of the sword.

*Spoiler alert*

Well, the Lich King loses his temper and unleashes the fury of Frostmourne, killing the entire raid. After throwing his hissy fit, he gloats over killing the heroes and relishes the idea of the powerful new members of his undead army (us). He then begins channeling us back to (un)life

Remember poor Tirion, our Highlord entombed in ice? Yeah, we pretty much lost faith and patience with him at this point. But he breaks through the ice and opens a can of whoop ass on the king.

Tirion breaks Frostmourne during the fight, releasing all the spirits held within, including Terenas. The spirit of Terenas resurrects all of the fallen members of the party.

As you can imagine, those spirits that have been contained within the sword Frostmourne have a bit of a grudge against the Lich King. You see all those swirling thingies? Those are the spirits of all the people the Lich King has killed. They are angry. Very angry. They hold Lich King in place, allowing the group to kick that evil king's butt.

After the Lich King is slain, Tirion discovers it is Bolvar Fordragon chained at the top of the throne. Bolvar was believed to be slain during a surprise Scourge attack but he survived and the Lich King took him and tortured him up to the point of the fight. However, he is in sad shape, his body pretty much burned and broken. He tells Tirion that there must be balance between the good and evil forces in the world, and ultimately, there must be a Lich King not only to contain the threat of the Scourge but to keep the Lich King imprisoned. The helm of domination, that ugly hat Arthas was wearing, was by created by demons and bonded to the Ner'zhul the Lich King (this is the simple version of the story. It's a bit complicated) and grants any mortal the powers of the Lich King.

Tirion reluctantly agrees to place the helm on Bolvar, who becomes encased in a tomb of ice to imprison the essence of the Lich King and ensure the helm doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

It's a great victory, but bittersweet in the great sacrifice Bolvar makes for the well being of the world and it's what makes a great epic tale.

A blog entry about nothing.

2010-09-05T12:36:00.006-05:00

This blog entry was initially going to be about my eventful but not really exciting week, but somehow it turned out to be an entry about my car that needed a jump.

Monday was the last day of my summer project. I spent the summer studying the birds on 3 different prairies. Each prairie manages their site differently in terms of prescribed burns. One site did not burn their prairie at all, but managed it by mowing every few years. Another site burned their prairie every 3 years and the Ecology Center, for simplicity's sake, burns every other year. My question for my study is whether or not the birds demonstrate a preference for the burn frequency. The methods I used to answer my question involved bird census and mist netting.

So Monday was the last day for mist netting at the Ecology Center. It threatened to rain but we managed to get 2 hours of net time in before the sky did open up and begin to pour. We were planning on going to lunch after we closed nets, but decided on brunch instead since the rain halted our activities. Of course it stopped raining by the time we closed the nets, but by then, the nets were soaked. A wet net tends to bunch in spots, making it easy for the birds to see and avoid.

After packing up we go to our cars and figure out carpooling and the like. I hop into my car and it wouldn't start. Dead as a doornail, would not start. But I did leave the hatchback open for over an hour this morning. There was some issue over whether or not anyone had jumper cables so I suggested we just go to brunch and I could call AA towing before we left the restaurant.

It turns out Stream Girl had jumper cables in her car at the Ecology Center. Thus began the jumper cable adventure. When we returned from brunch I opened the hood of my car while Stream Girl pulled her car up. The terminals on my battery were heavily corroded. After scraping off as much as I could with my key I turned to find Stream Girl reading the directions.

"I haven't done this very many times." I confessed.

"Neither have I." Stream Girl replied, "But the directions are simple enough."

Farm Girl was there for moral support and it turns out I leaned pretty heavily on her emotionally. In the past, I was the spectator and filled the role of support during a jumping event, but this time around I was the active participant and the thought of placing cables with a current running through it (from the other car) on to my end of the car scared the bejeesus out of me. What frightened me the most was placing the negative end of the cable on a metal object on my car. What if the directions were wrong and I got a nasty shock? Farm Girl offered to place the negative end of the cable on some random metal object, but I didn't want HER to get shocked. What kind of friend would I be if I allowed her to take a freak-of-nature shock that was meant for me?

"Where should I put this?" I asked Farm Girl, looking at all the machinery under the hood.

"How about there?" She asked, pointing to one area of the frame of my car.

I peered at it and shook my head. "It's awfully close to that skinny tube." I replied, pointing to what was probably the windshield wiper fluid tube. Maybe?

"Hmm. What about here?" She asked, pointed further up the frame.

The radiator hose closely paralleled the frame, but every where I looked, there was a tube or bolt or some plastic piece that was close to metal.

"Ok." I said, staring at the metal.

I looked at Farm Girl and Stream Girl and said, "I love you girls!" before placing the negative end of the cable on the metal.

The laughter that followed my overly dramatic statement took the edge off my jitters. Intellectually, I knew I wasn't going to get shocked, but what if by some weird chance I DID get shocked? Luckily nothing happened.

I went to start my car and again, nothing happened. Stream Girl commented the directions said that if the car receiving the jump did not start to give it 5 minutes before trying again. So we gave it 5 minutes.

Nothing happened.

Stream Girl suggested we wait another 5 minutes and try again. This time she revved her engine several times. Guess what happened?

Nothing.

Stream Girl suggested I get the car towed to Auto Zone and have the guys there test my battery. If it was really dead, I could buy one and have them install it. I agreed and said I'd call Danno first to see what he thought. Much to my surprise, he said he wanted to come out and try to jump it.

"But we just tried jumping it." I said, "It's as dead as a door nail."

"Just let me look at it." He replied.

I will admit I was a little offended. He didn't trust me to jump start my car? I did tell him there were 3 of us present to provide a form of checks and balances in case one of us misunderstood the directions.

'Fine' I thought sullenly, 'Come on out then. You'll see.'

He came out and looked at my battery terminals and really started cleaning them. He cleaned them until they shone. Hmm, what if he did get the car started? He did go through the same set up as we did in terms of hooking the cables to his car and then to mine although he picked a different spot for the negative cable.

I will confess I experienced a certain amount of satisfaction when the car wouldn't start but I refrained from saying "I told you so".

He tried a different spot on the car, but met with the same results. Nothing.

Then he did the unthinkable. He placed the negative cable on the battery. Great. Now someone was going to get hurt.

"You're not supposed to do that!" I gasped, "That's dangerous!"

"I know, but it may be the only way we get your car started." Danno replied.

The car almost started when I turned the ignition over. On the second try, the car finally started. I don't think I've ever seen a car so unwilling to start. Danno was afraid the alternator would be involved in the problem, but time and many miles driven this week proved it was just the battery.

That proved to be the highlight of my week and well, this blog entry too.

Signs

2010-08-30T18:15:00.003-05:00

I took a road trip late last week to see my friend Country Bird in Oklahoma. We met at the Bird Sanctuary in 99 and have been friends ever since. She's a fellow bird nerd and we've had all kinds of (mis)adventures and hijinks during our bird watching excursions. She moved in 2006 but we've managed to see each other at least once a year whether it be through a planned birding trip, a bird banding conference or a short visit.

It's an 8 hour drive from my doorstep to hers and this was my first solo road trip. Yup, you heard right. In all the traveling I've done, I've never taken a road trip alone. Usually I fly and the road trips I have gone on I've been with other people. So I was a little nervous with all the things that could go wrong running through my head.

I passed through a long stretch of tacky tourist trap signs on the highway. The billboards for Meramec Caverns began about 30 miles outside of the city. Advertisements to see the cave of Jesse James hideout and various rooms in the cavern (such as the Ballroom) were ok, not too tacky, but somewhere along the way, Meramec Caverns started sporting billboards advertising their new "caveman zipline", complete with a cartoon cave man swinging across the billboard via the zipline.

Once I passed the Meramec Caverns attraction, the billboards began advertising the Jesse James Wax Museum, the World's Largest Rocking chair, the Vacuum Cleaner Museum, the Candy Factory, the Toy Factory, Ozark Souvenirs (over 25,000 souvenirs!) and the Precious Moments museum. I knew I was within driving range of Branson, probably the mecca of tacky tourist traps when I drove past a large A-frame tin building that was the "Candy Factory" with "BRANSON COUPONS" painted in bold yellow letters across the roof. Soon I was passing billboards for a.m. radio stations devoted to information and COUPONS for Branson attractions. How does a radio station manage to give traveling tourist coupons anyways? They certainly don't print through the car radio and most people don't stay long enough in the same hotel to receive mail. I thought the whole coupon thing was rather strange. And who devotes an entire radio station to nothing but tourist attractions?

The tacky and strange billboards abruptly dropped once I hit the Oklahoma state line. I traveled across the lower half of Missouri and was inundated with these tacky tourist trap billboards the entire way. I traveled through half of Oklahoma and did not come across one sign that was strange or ridiculous.

Someone please tell me Missouri isn't the only state that has advertisements for the obnoxious tourist traps along the highway. As I stated before, this was my first solo road trip. All the other road trips I had conversation with other people in the car to keep me occupied and otherwise too distracted to look at billboards. I'll be embarrassed on behalf of the people like me, who have strong aversions to the tacky tourist traps if I find out that we're the only state that proudly advertises those awful places.

Owwww

2010-08-12T12:43:00.003-05:00

About 4 years ago, I experienced an acute case of shoulder pain. I mean, holy crap this shit hurts kind of pain. I couldn't lay on my right side and I could barely lift my right arm above my head. But after a week, the pain began to improve so I didn't go to the doctor and I only told a few people about my shoulder pain. I am ashamed over my lack of action, especially since I'm the one who advises and nags people to go to the doctor when they are sick or need medical attention. But I was afraid of the surgery potential. The event occurred during the summer, right at the height of the mist netting season. I didn't want to be slowed down by surgery and well frankly, I was afraid of surgery.

Since then I have had shoulder pain off and on, but taking advil or alleve for a few days usually cured the problem. Until this past spring. The pain began as an ache and I couldn't lay on my right side. As in the past, I babied my shoulder, tried to stop laying on my right side as best I could (sometimes I would wake up on my right side, or my right arm would be flung over my head) but this time time around non-steroidal inflammatory meds (Alleve, Advil etc) were contraindicated with the medication I was on and I had to rely on Tylenol, which did NOT work.

During all of spring and most of the summer I was still able to participate in all of my usual activities; FitCamp, Yoga, mist netting, hiking and the like but the pain got progressively worse and was occurring on a daily basis causing me to fess up to Exercise Sunshine. I confided in her partly because she was my yoga instructor and it would be difficult to do some of the yoga poses, but mostly because she had become a friend and I knew she would keep after me to see the doctor. And that she did. I think she emailed me or got after me on Facebook on a weekly basis.

So yesterday was my appointment. Danno went with me because I drive a car with manual transmission and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to drive myself home. I was already assuming the doctor would give me the much dreaded cortisone shot. When I finally broke down and told my friends and family how much my shoulder was bothering me, all the horror stories revolving around cortisone shots came to the surface and they reminded me of the women I've known in my life who relate the birthing horror stories they've heard or experienced.

One friend relayed his story like a fisherman

"Chickadee, I swear the needle was this big" he said, indicating the length of the needle with his thumb and middle finger. "And it hurt like a mother&#@%er." (naughty word edited. this is a family blog you know)

My mother-in-law's story was the least frightening. "The needle won't actually hurt that bad, but the medicine will sting for about 5 seconds before the numbing stuff they give you beforehand kicks in."

With the horror stories in mind, I sat in the waiting room and was led to the examination room. I no sooner sat down when an x-ray technician came for me. After 3 x-rays, I made my way back to the exam room. I sat there wondering how big the needle was for a cortisone shot. To my left was a sharps disposal container sitting in a wire basket screwed to the wall. The container was transparent, allowing me a view of all the disposed syringes and needles in the box. There were some long needles in that box, but the needles were not as long as I envisioned. What disturbed me was the diameter of those needles. They weren't the thin needles used for TB tests, nor were they the size you're used to seeing when you get an antibiotic or tetanus shot either.

I tried to read the book I brought with me, but my gaze kept returning to the sharps container. My feelings waffled between impatience at being kept so long waiting for the doctor and anxiety over this whole ordeal. How painful was this going to be?

The orthopedic doctor finally came in and my first impression was that she was a woman suited to the job. She was thin with an athletic build and I could imagine how this field of medicine appealed to her. I could picture her playing golf or tennis.

I was sitting in the chair next to the exam table and asked her if she preferred me on the table to which she replied no and wheeled next to me. She showed me my x-rays and was pleased to report there were no bone spurs or visible tears. She then took my arm and through a series of lifting, rotating, holding and pulling, asked me where the pain was, when it began and the like. I went in to the office with my shoulder mildly aching, but by the time she finished it felt like someone was repeatedly punching it. She told me I had bursitis and proceeded to explain to me on a poster filled with illustrations of shoulders, arms, wrists, elbows what bursitis was and gave me the option of a month of NSAIDs (the aforementioned advil and alleve, which was out of the question because of my medication), a cortisone shot and a series of exercises which I needed to do daily, or, if none of the above worked, physical therapy. Since the NSAID option was out and I was in too much pain at the moment and losing sleep, the shot was the way to go.

She left and promised to return in a moment to give me the shot. But what happened instead was the nurse came in with a bottle of Lidocaine, a pair of sterile gloves and the syringe filled with cortisone. She happily chirped the doctor would be in in just a moment to give me my shot. But in the meantime, you can stare at this syringe. (No, she didn't say that last part. That was in my head)

The doctor returned within 15 minutes and explained she was going to numb my shoulder with the Lidocaine and poke the needle in. It would probably burn for about 5 seconds but the lidocaine would kick in and I wouldn't feel the burn (just like my mother-in-law said). She sprayed the lidocaine on my shoulder and just when the cold feeling on my shoulder turned into a burn, she put the needle in. The injection itself didn't hurt but oh my gawd did it burn. It burned bad, worse than the burn that accompanies a tetanus shot.

"Wow, that does burn" I squeaked, "Ow ow ow ow."

I laughed and tried to concentrate on breathing because when she pulled the needle out, I felt like I was going to pass out. I knew this might happen. I get squeamish when I have procedures done and usually its not until after the procedure is finished that I get into trouble.

She immediately started talking to me about what I needed to do in the weeks following the cortisone shot. I nodded, though I didn't hear much outside of the "Don'tpassoutDon'tpassoutDon'tpassout" mantra I was screaming in my head as she spoke. I could feel the desire to collapse but by sheer force of will I kept it at bay.

She ended with "The nurse will be in to give you that sheet of exercises and you're good to go."

When she left I let out a whoosh and rubbed my forehead. Hurry the hell up nurse so I can get out of here and pass out in the privacy of my car.

In the end I didn't pass out. I felt fine when I left the exam room.

I need to see her again about my knees. They've been giving me trouble the last year. I hope to God I don't need more cortisone shots. I don't know if my will is strong enough to get me through another episode that involves a big fat needle.

Farmer's Market

2010-07-03T13:49:00.007-05:00

Mom, Hubby and I went to a Farmer's Market this morning. I love the atmosphere of a Farmer's Market. Local farmers offering their wares in various baskets and crates. People of all ages milling about examining the colorful vegetables adorning the tables and baskets.

I loved looking at the eggplants and all their different shades of purple. There were deep purple eggplants and this light shade of purple

Each tent had a little something different to offer. Rich red tomatoes, dark green leaves of kale and bright yellow squash. Some stalls sold flowers, soaps, fruit, homemade jams and jellies.

Next week Mom and I are going to hit a different Farmer's Market. I'm looking forward to next week's bounties!

Little Feathers of Sunshine

2010-06-29T08:39:00.006-05:00

The American Goldfinches have begun to flock in the prairie at the Ecology Center. Two weeks ago we caught 30 golfinches in the mist nets. Yesterday I watched a few of the birds flutter around the tops of dried flowers, foraging for seed.

The Goldfinches nest later than other songbirds, sometimes as early as mid-June but breeding usually commences in July and August.. The finches time their nesting around the maturation of thistle plants and other wildflowers that bloom in mid-summer (such as the echinacea sp).

Male Goldfinches do not defend established territories, rather they defend their mate, especially while she is incubating or brooding chicks. The male also almost exclusively feeds the young while they are in the nest and will often form flocks and fly miles away from their nesting sites to forage for food.

I look forward to the mid-summer addition of the Goldfinches. They add a nice splash of vibrant color to the prairie and it is wonderful to hear their sweet song. I'll be keeping my eyes open for more photo opportunities and keep you posted on their activity.

Backyard Enemy

2010-06-27T13:49:00.002-05:00

When I declared war on the weeds in the backyard a few years ago, I made a few enemies: Honeysuckle, Winter Creeper and Roses of Sharon to name a few, but none have proved to be as powerful an enemy as Poison Ivy. Sure, their numbers are few, but they have the big guns in their arsenal, Urushiol resin. This is the stuff that causes contact dermatitis (in layman’s terms, the God awful rash and itch that never seems to disappear).

Urishiol is indeed a potent weapon. Just one nanogram (or one billionth of a gram) causes a rash and the oil can be active on any surface, including a dead poison ivy plant, for a period of up to 5 years.

I’m convinced that I break into a rash as soon as I see a poison ivy plant. Back in the summer of 2001, when I was out doing bird work in the woodlands, I developed a rash from poison ivy exposure seven times. Since then, I’ve been pretty good about keeping an eye out for the poison ivy plants but I’ve developed contact dermatitis 3 times since I began the war against the weeds in April. The first two cases were very minor; a smattering of a rash up one arm and the around my wrist, but the third episode was a big one and I knew EXACTLY when I was exposed.

I was on the battlefront yanking honeysuckle a few other unidentifiable weeds when I pulled a poison ivy plant hidden amongst the foliage. I was ambushed and subsequently unprepared for the long vine that trailed behind the dreaded leaves of 3. I let out an anguished howl as the vine brushed across my bare legs. I glared at the enemy in my gloved hand but smiled grimly. I may have been ambushed but I knew how to neutralize the enemy…or, at least I thought I did.

I made 2 huge mistakes that day. The first mistake was wearing shorts while weeding. The second mistake was…well, read on.

Knowing the clock was ticking (you have anywhere from 30 minutes to a few hours to rinse off the resin before it sets in), I quickly bagged the remaining weeds and put the clippers away. I knew cold water was the antidote to the Urishiol resin and I knew my legs were hit but I didn’t know the extent of the damage. I was hot and sweaty from the war efforts so I decided to take a shower. That way, not only would I be rinsing off the sweat and grime, but the resin as well.

I slept worry-free that night, thinking I had successfully neutralized the enemy…until I woke the next morning to find my legs covered in that all-too-familiar rash. Nooo! What happened? I was so confident in my plan that I even skipped the Tecnu application. Well Ladies and Gentleman, what I did NOT know was that warm water will open your pores and let the Urishiol soak in. I simply made the situation worse. Further reading informed me that repeated rinsing with cold water is the best treatment for poison ivy exposure. The rash lasted for nearly a month and the faded remnants from the encounter with the enemy still remain on my legs.

Not long after exposure to that poison ivy fine, I came across this giant.

(Reconnaissance photo taken with my BlackBerry phone)

That’s the biggest poison ivy plant I’ve seen to date on the battlefront. I do believe long sleeves in addition to the pants and gloves are going to be needed.

The intense heat and humidity has suspended the backyard battle but when the weed pulling resumes, that plant will be the first to go.

Sometimes during the evening, I’ll go outside and look at that poison ivy plant, assessing the dangers and plotting my course of action. The wall of protective weeds will need to be removed first and I may have to attack from behind. I’m also convinced that that plant is measuring me as well, devising a way to slip in between the armor of a sleeve and glove, perhaps even springing up to brush a cheek or a bit of hair before going into the yard waste bin.

I know that plant isn’t going to go down without a fight. Let’s hope I can keep the personal damage to a minimum.

Photos from the field: The Bugs and Blooms edition

2010-06-25T16:24:00.010-05:00

Checked nest boxes today at the Ecology Center and was just itching to take photos with the new camera. Yes, it's finally growing on me now that I'm figuring out the advanced functions and the peculiarities that have accompanied the camera in its age (Very much like a used car).

I consulted with my entomologist friends on insect identification. As we all know, there are thousands of insect species and I am mostly unfamiliar with WHERE to look a bug up in the field guide. Speaking in bird terms, if I see a small bird with a thick bill, I think that bird is mostly likely a Vireo species, so I know to look in the Vireo section of my book. With bugs, well, I have NO clue, but thankfully, I know people who do know which section of the field guides to scan first.

Once my friends and colleagues responded with the species, I went a step further and did a little research on the internet. So without further ado...

I first came across this large moth on the edge of the woods.

It is most likely a Beloved Underwing (Catocola ilia). As with most moth species, the female Underwing emits an airborne pheromone and the males use their large, brushy antennas to pick up and follow the scent plume. The eggs are deposited on tree bark and hatch the following spring. The caterpillars eat the leaves of White Oak, Burr Oak, Northern Red Oak and Black Oak trees. Adult moths are found June - September.

On the edge of the north side of the prairie, I found a Bumblebee resting comfortably on the leaf of a Cup Plant. I love the way the wings shimmer in this photograph.

There is a small patch of prairie on the southeast corner of the property and I came across a section that was alive with buzzing wings. I spent a long time taking pictures.

I originally thought this to be a Thread Waisted Wasp, but I've been since told it is actually a Thick headed Fly (Conopidae sp). Now that I've seen photos of both, I can tell the difference.

As you can see, the Thick headed Fly mimics the appearance of a wasp and there are 70 species in the Conopidae family. The mimicry protects these insects from predators and they deposit their eggs into the abdomen of their hosts in flight. I found this insect among several bumble bees, honeybees and other flying insects and I learned this is common behavior. When the larva hatch they will eat their living food, from the inside out.

After reading all of that, I can't help but wonder how many of the bumble bees I photographed have little Conopidae eggs inside their abdomens, just waiting to hatch...

Let's end on a positive note, shall we? I found this little skipper, most likely a Fiery Skipper, resting on a Slender Mountain Mint plant.

The Fit Club

2010-06-24T12:56:00.004-05:00

July marks the first year anniversary that I began FitCamp classes. FitCamp is a mix of cardio and resistance that meets for an hour in a city park twice a week. The class is lead by Exercise Guru, a sprightly woman who is a personal trainer and lover of boxing. It all began when I reconnected with a friend from High School through Facebook. For several months she had been talking about this class and curiosity, coupled with the desire to get in shape prompted me to attend the classes.

The first month was rough. Soreness was a constant companion, especially the first week when going down stairs and sitting down was a painful chore. But my stamina grew over the months and my muscles adjusted. Exercise Guru quickly grew on me and I marveled over the countless creative ways she found to make the park where we exercised our outdoor gym. We lunge-walked up hills, ran up steps, used park benches to tone our triceps and biceps. We sweated through the summer and fall in the park before moving inside to an Activity Room at a nearby grade school for the winter months.

The torture, er, “fitness”, continued as Exercise Guru proved again we didn’t need the fancy provisions of a gym. We just needed our trusty weights and exercise mat. There were the “mountain climbers” (body in an “A” position as you jogged in place) followed by push ups, the “kayak” (you sit up straight on your bottom as if you’re in a chair, with your legs extended and you “paddle” with your weights), jumping jacks and jogging in place. Before the end of the month, I was exercising at the back of the room next to a wide open window. Exercise Guru would work me up into such an awful sweat that I came to look forward to the brain numbing cold during class days because it make the indoor exercise more bearable. Minus 5 degrees you say? Great! That meant the sweat would turn into little ice cubes on my forehead when I stuck my head out the window.

About a month or so into FitCamp, I began exploring other exercise possibilities to add to my class and found Yoga. I went to yoga classes at the Yoga Center for about 2 months. While I immensely enjoyed the calming effects of the poses, the class was too big for my liking.

When Exercise Sunshine (Guru’s substitute instructor for FitCamp) began her HardBody yoga classes in the late fall, I was elated. I was always happy to see Sunshine filling in for Guru and felt an almost immediate kinship with her. Sunshine’s HardBody Yoga proved to be a challenging class that incorporated strength training, stretching and breathing. We always began with modified Sun Salutation before doing such poses as Bridge, Dolphin, Tree (my favorite!), Warrior, “Froggy” or Downward Dog (and Sunshine, Downward Dog has finally grown on me!). And just because you’re on the mat doesn’t mean the work is easy. Try balancing one side of your body relying on just one hand and foot for support, or holding the plank position (starting position for a push up) while kicking one leg higher than your waist, then the other leg and doing this for 30 – 60 seconds.

Through these 2 classes I’ve learned quite a bit about myself. I’ve learned patience with my physical limitations and imperfections. I can only do a limited amount of cardio. Running, jogging, and skipping still leave me standing in my tracks. But I can run, jog and skip a little further than last year. Push ups are still a bitch and I still can’t grab my big toe with my fingers when stretching. But just because I can’t do as many pushups, run as fast or stretch as far as the woman next to me (or most of the other women for that fact) doesn’t mean I’m out of shape. Exercise, as most things in life, is not an all or nothing endeavor. I still get impatient and frustrated with myself, but I’m in class and doing the best that I can.

Both classes have proved to be an integral part of my routine. Classes are a must now, not an option. I talk about the class often, not only to provide accountability for myself (I want to answer “yes” when one of my friends asks me if I went to class) but to spread the word…these classes have made a huge difference in my life and maybe that enthusiasm will spark the desire in someone else to incorporate some form of exercise in their life. Because if I can exercise, anyone else can too. Fitness of body and mind is not out of anyone’s reach.

Pictures from the new camera

2010-06-18T14:21:00.007-05:00

I started taking pictures with the new camera last night. I played with some of the options (exposure bracketing and shooting mode). Focusing was a bit of a problem under poor lighting but I had the same issue with my Rebel G.

This is the best picture I took last night

This morning I took some pictures out on the prairie. There were a few incidents where the subject wasn't in sharp focus.

I took the following photos this afternoon in my small garden bed in front.

Plan to take lots more pictures this weekend.

I know it's just a camera but...

2010-06-17T12:52:00.003-05:00

My camera broke last week. The auto focus stopped working on all my lenses, but I could still manually focus and take photographs. I’ve been going through the 5 stages of grief from the moment the auto focus shut down.

Stage One: Denial

I played the “I can still use the camera, it’s just the auto focus, I’ll just manually focus when I take pictures. No biggie” like a mantra in my head.

I wasn’t ready to accept the fact the camera was broken. After a few days of manually focusing, I tried the auto focus and it still would not work. I tried another line of thought. Maybe the camera wasn’t really broken, maybe it just needed to be cleaned. After all, I was constantly changing lenses outside and it was possible that dirt, dust and pollen could have entered the camera body during one of those times. I knew Creve Coeur Camera and Video cleaned cameras for $50. That would be an acceptable option. I could afford $50 and a week without my camera.

The next 2 stages were kind of meshed together and they both hit on Tuesday when I went up to Creve Coeur Camera to see what the staff could do about my camera.

Stage Two: Bargaining

“Hi. The auto focus on my camera isn’t working for any of my lenses.” I said to a young salesman.

He took the camera, turned it on and tried the auto focus with both my 35 mm and telephoto lens. After about a minute of fiddling, he placed the camera on the counter and stated the obvious. “Yup. The body of the camera isn’t working.”

“Does it just need to be cleaned?” I asked hopefully.

“No. But I’m not sure what’s wrong with it.”

He proceeded to tell me a $250 deposit was required to fix the camera and it would be shipped to the manufacturer for repair. He mentioned the store sold used cameras for less than the price of the deposit to fix my broken camera. I wasn’t quite ready for the idea of buying a new camera, but I followed him to a glass case filled with cameras of every make and model. He pulled out a Canon Rebel G (my model) and another upgrade. I stared at the cameras, feeling sad as the reality of what I needed to do began to dawn on me.

I told the salesman I needed to call my husband. The cameras were well within our budget and I knew Dan didn’t really care one way or the other if I bought another camera, but I think I needed the reassurance and comfort. Reality was proving to be an ice cold slap in the face.

Stage Three: Anger

When I called my husband, the salesperson did not give me any privacy. The man did not move. When I moved 5 steps to the right, the salesman followed me and even leaned across the counter as I told my husband what he told me. I stared at the man expectantly but either he was oblivious to the significance of the stare, or he chose to ignore it. I did not have a favorable opinion of his intelligence or tact, so I’m thinking he was just an idiot.

When I got off the phone, the salesman showed me the Cannon upgrade and claimed that the lenses from my Canon G would fit on this newer camera. The telephoto lens did fit, but the 35mm lens did not. He said there was one 35mm lens that did not fit on this model and obviously I had that 35 mm lens. I also told him I had a macro lens and I was concerned that lens would not fit so I wanted to go home and bring the macro lens back at a later time.

“What kind of macro lens is it?” He asked.

Sensing the hungry wolf on the other side of the counter, I replied “I don’t know. That’s why I need to go home and look at it. It was given to me as a gift and I don’t use it very often.”

“I could look it up in the computer if it was bought here.”

The anger that was simmering just beneath the surface was coming to a rapid boil and threatened to spill out of my mouth with that “suggestion”. He was being pushy. I was nothing more than a commission check in his eyes. He didn’t review all the bells and whistles on the camera. If he cared about my satisfaction and loved photography, he would have pulled out all the stops on this camera. He had no idea what was on that camera and that was obvious when he was surprised that my 35mm lens didn’t fit on the very camera he was trying to sell me.

I politely thanked him, went to my car, called Dan back and just let it all spill out. While I was angry at the salesman, deep down I knew I was more upset about my broken camera. Dan suggested I take the camera to Schillers Camera on Manchester. He also mentioned he emailed me a thread on a forum on Rebel G’s and the problem I was having with the auto focus. Evidently this was a common problem and not an easy fix.

Stage Four: Depression

I didn’t want to read that article because it would have made my impending loss all the more concrete. But the visit to Creve Coeur Camera started the reality ball rolling and there’s really no stopping the facts once they get going.

So I had a broken camera. The camera that was an extension of my eyes, my soul, was broken. The camera that captured breathtaking sunrises, the vivid colors of landscapes through the seasons, recorded the countless birds, bugs, smiles and memories of good times with friends and family was dead. I knew it was just a camera, but it was so much more than just a tool. It gave my creativity, my memories, even my thoughts, physical form. This camera recorded my personal history, captured plants and invertebrate subjects in photographic form for me to examine later in a field guide. It also gave me the opportunity to share my love of birds and nature with other people.

So went the depression phase.

Stage Five: Acceptance

Last night I went to Schiller’s Camera with my precious, broken camera in tow. Dejectedly I went through the same dialogue with a different salesperson. But where the Creve Coeur salesperson was indifferent to his trade, the Schiller’s person was enthusiastic and although he did try to sell the more expensive used camera, he respected my budget constraints and went to town showing me all the options on a Canon 20D. He took photos in the store, showed me a few tricks and let me take some photos with the camera as well.

I left the store an hour later with the Canon 20D. I’m still sad and not 100% excited about my new-to-me used camera, but I imagine once I start playing with it, I’ll be won over. I’m going to test it out tonight.

As an aside note, I do plan to keep the Rebel G. It is still functional. If I go out to a place where I know I will use both my 35mm and telephoto lens, I may pop one lens on one camera and the other lens on the other camera. Logistically speaking, this will be cumbersome, but I know this practice is the norm with other photographers. I'll make it work.

Keys

2010-06-14T18:49:00.001-05:00

I’m a loser of keys. If I am not looking at my keys when I put them down, chances are likely that later I will forget where I placed them. Fortunately the episodes of key misplacement are usually short, but there are the times when the few moments of searching turn into several minutes of frantic, panicked searching. Sunday was one of those days.

I was already running late for my yoga class when I couldn’t find my keys. I looked in all of the odd spots where I sometimes place my keys when I’m not paying attention: the table next to the love seat, the pants I was wearing the previous day, the bathroom (don’t ask), the bed and the dining room table. I even looked in my car. After 10 minutes of searching, I called Exercise Sunshine.

“I can’t find my keys. I’ve been looking for them for the last 10 minutes and I can’t find them!” I was talking a mile a minute and I recognized the slight panic in my voice that always accompanies the extended key searches.

“Take a deep breath. You will find your keys. Where was the last place you remember you having your keys?” She asked.

“Well, I remember what pants I was wearing. I checked my pants.”

She laughed and offered a few suggestions before I found them. They were in their usual spot next to the kitchen door that leads to the garage but I had placed a cloth bag over them in a moment of inattention.

Last year I couldn’t find my keys and they were right in my face. Again, I was running late, but this time for work. I called Bug Girl in a state of panic. I raced around the house picking up papers, looking under tables, out in the car and everywhere in between while the 2 of us brainstormed on where my keys were. I finally sat on the floor, nearly in tears when Dan walked in, looked at me and said “Are those your keys right there on the loveseat?”

Yes folks, the keys were right at eye level, in plain sight, on the love seat.

A few years ago I had to cancel a doctor’s appointment because my keys were in the passenger side door of my husband’s car. He was at work.

But the best (or worst) key misplacement happened just this past April during my trip to Texas. My rental car was a 2010 Nissan Altima which did not require keys. The car was started by pushing a button on the steering column. However, you did need the accompanying remote to be within the car to be able to successfully start it. I arrived Sunday afternoon and by the end of that night, I had lost and found the remote(s) at least 4 times.

Monday morning I met up with a colleague on a Walmart parking lot at 5am to carpool to his workplace. He worked with the endangered species Black-capped Vireo and I spent the day in the field with him banding the birds and searching for nests. He drove me back to my car 4:30 that afternoon and my keys were gone. We pulled everything out of my backpack and his car. No keys. Gone. They were just gone. I told him I probably lost the keys somewhere in the field when I was pulling my camera out of my backpack.

After 30 minutes on the phone with the rental company I learned that it would cost me 200 dollars to replace the lost remote (they had no spare remote. I had the spare. Why do these rental agencies not keep any spare keys? ) and the cost of towing the car back to the rental agency. They also regretted to inform me they did not have any spare cars to give me for at least the next few days. The news went from bad to worse when I called AAA and the man on the other end of the phone wasn’t sure if he could safely tow my car without its remote.

By 5pm my options had run out and I was in a state of panic. I was stranded in a Walmart parking lot in the middle of nowhere with a car that may not be tow-able. I walked to another rental agency and got in the door just before they closed for the evening. Just as I walked out with the keys to my new rental car, my cell phone rang. It was my colleague. He found the keys to the Nissan on the passenger side floor in his personal vehicle (He dropped me off in the company truck because he was going back to work). I must have dropped the keys on the floor instead of into my open backpack. It was dark and I was still sleepy. I didn’t think to double check my backpack once we were out of his personal car.

You would think that after that horrible ordeal I would have learned my lesson. 30 minutes on the phone, the threat of being stranded in the middle of nowhere, the panic…apparently my memory is short-term. But my keys aren’t the only items I lose on a regular basis. I lose my phone, debit card and flash drive. I just came off a 7 year library hiatus because I lost 2 library books.

As I stated before, if I’m not paying specific attention to the item that is in my hand when I put it down, it’s as good as lost. But my keys are the worst. Not sure what I can do to rectify this terrible shortcoming. I’m just glad my head and appendages are attached to my body.

These boots were made for walking, not sloshing!

2010-05-26T15:12:00.008-05:00

My poor boots. My poor, poor boots. When they're not on my feet, they sit on the steps of the back porch steps to dry out.

My boots and feet have been soaking wet every day that I've been out in the field. Not the slight damp that is the result of an early morning dew, but wring-your-socks, wipe your feet down soaking wet. I'm not sure my shoes have been dry since April. May has been a rainy month. It rained every day May 10-16 and May 19 - 20th. To date, it has rained 4.25 inches and the average rainfall for the month is 4.11 inches.

The ground has been saturated with rain and puddles abound. This is the entrance to one of my prairie sites. That's not a creek people. That's 2 large puddles.

And of course where there are puddles, there is mud. Some of the mud is firm and bearable to step on (through?), but then there is the ankle deep, boot sucking globs of mud to slosh through.

My boots have obtained that mildewy smell and in attempts to control the odor, the shoes are placed on the back porch to dry in the sun. I suppose it has cut down on the smell, but the shoes still carry that funk. Ugh.

Maybe at the end of the summer I can scrub and vacuum them to a shade of their former glory.

Sleep Obsessed

2010-05-10T17:20:00.005-05:00

I hate how I allow so much time to pass between postings and I hate just as much how I have begun the last several postings with that thought. But here we are again, much time has passed between blog postings and I will tell you why.

I am obsessed with sleep.

The last two weeks have been a blur of activity that have started with me getting up at 4:30am. FOUR THIRTY AM. April 24th began the Bird Sanctuary's migrating banding blitz. Two weeks of placing nets up in the hopes of snagging those long distant flyers. Two weeks of capturing Swainson's Thrush, Gray-Cheeked Thrush, Hooded Warbler, Mourning Warbler, Tennessee Warbler, Nashville Warbler and those other birds that pause in St. Louis for a few days to a few weeks before continuing on to their breeding grounds up north and east.

The last two weeks have been divided into 2 phases. Light and Dark. Dark begins when I wake up and consists of rolling out of bed, stumbling blindly for the glasses, tripping over cats and tiptoeing to avoid waking a sleeping spouse. Dark also includes driving on an empty highway, remembering to slow down on a windy two-lane road to avoid hitting deer and then trying to see my way to the mist nets on a path in the woods.

By the time the nets are ready to go, the sun is peeking through the trees, entering the Light Phase. Light Phase includes 4 hours of mist netting, banding and examining a multitude of birds to determine their age and sex before sending them on their way. Light Phase also includes the rest of the day. Running errands, trying to keep up on the house work, medicating geriatric cats, eating, playing WoW, all the while trying to stay awake.

Here is where the sleep obsession comes in. Waking up is actually not the problem. It's STAYING awake that was sometimes difficult and I think part of it was psychological. This has now become a game. How long can I postpone the fatigue and the urge to take that nap? Sometimes the fatigue sets in as soon as I hop in the car after banding and thus begins the debate on whether to eat lunch first or take a nap first. If I struggle to stay awake while driving, the nap wins that day.

Other days, I postpone going home after work because the bed beckons as soon as I walk in the door, and I am a woman of weak will when it comes to naps. Of course, the longer I stay away from home, the more insistently the fatigue tells my body, my limbs, my eyes, my thoughts "YOU'RE TIRED. TAKE A NAP. A NAPPPPP."

When I finally get home, I play the "Well I need to do this first" game. Before I take a nap, I'll eat first. Well, then I need to stay awake long enough to let my food digest so I don't have heartburn later. Well now I need to do data entry (did I mention May 3rd began my prairie project? Yeah, so last week I was doing bird census on my prairies before heading to the Bird Sanctuary to mist net) before I take a nap. Well now the dishes are in the sink and I can't stand that so I better put those in the dish washer first...

All the while I'm playing this game, my brain is saying "I'M SO FRICKING TIRED I CAN'T THINK! TAKE THE NAP!!!"

I usually rage back at the fatigue. "NO. OMFG WOMAN YOU'RE ALWAYS TIRED. GET OVER IT AND SUCK IT UP!!"

The inward whining and raging continue on for awhile before the nap wins or I find something else to do. Every day. The problem with the naps is that sometimes I wake up feeling more fatigued than when I originally laid down.

But my body is beginning to adjust to this crazy schedule. I'm in bed by 8:30pm and waking up a minute or two before my alarm. I usually hit two brick walls. Noonish and again around 7-7:30pm. By 8pm I get into my jammies and go to bed, despite the fact that I'm missing my favorite TV shows and maybe leaving some social activities early.

Honestly I don't know what to do about the fatigue because when it hits around mid-afternoon, it hits hard. The house is a disaster, the yard is a jungle, I'm ignoring some of my friends because I'm too tired to do anything beyond texting or email, exercise class is still hit-or-miss and I feel like I'm missing out on life because I'm too tired to be social.

My job is worth the challenges of adjusting to this new sleep schedule. Dawn with a mist on a tallgrass prairie is beautiful and you can't match the jubilant chorus of the birds during that time of the day. I will adjust. It only has been 2 weeks and this is giving me lots of material to work with...lots of whining and blogging.

But seriously, if anyone out there has any words of advice to beat the mid afternoon sag, I would appreciate the words of wisdom. I'm going to be getting up 430am all summer. I need to adapt.

The Day of the Vireo

2010-04-18T19:25:00.009-05:00

I got back from a week-long trip from Texas yesterday. I keep a travel/nature journal of sorts while I'm on vacation or day trips. This entry is from Monday, April 12, 2010. I hope I am motivated enough to post a few more entries this week from my trip.

To give you a bit of background information, several of the same people tend to attend the same bird conferences year after year and a regular conference attendee is a biologist who works on private property in the area I was planning to visit. He has been studying the Black-capped Vireo for the last 9 years. The Black-capped Vireo is an endangered bird and is pretty much endemic to the Hill Country region of Texas, located in the center of the state. This vireo prefers Shin-oak with a mixing of Texas Oak, Texas Red Bud and a small amount of Ashe Juniper. Ideally this habitat needs to be burned periodically to kill back the Ashe Juniper and to keep the Shin Oak at a reasonable height.

We began Monday morning right at dawn. The field biologist had his recording equipment with him and told me that right at dawn and for 20 minutes after, the males will sing continuously and this was known as their "dawn song". He recorded a dawn song and proceeded to point out the various songs and sounds of these birds over the course of the day. The vocal repertoire of these vireos was amazing and I was equally impressed with how well acquainted the biologist was with each scold, trill, bubble and song of these birds.

The biologist was looking to band one particular female bird he was observing over the last few weeks. He set up a net in her territory and used playbacks of alarmed birds and Screech Owls as a means to lure her and others in to the mist net. We not only captured the desired female Black-capped Vireo but also her mate, a Hermit Thrush, Orange-crowned Warbler and a gorgeous male Golden-cheeked Warbler.

Black-capped Vireo

After the birds were processed and photos taken, the biologist handed them off to me to examine and release. I know these capturing these birds are every day events for this biologist and his staff, but I was ecstatic to hold in my hands 2 endangered birds (the Golden-cheeked Warbler is also an endangered bird). The Black-capped Vireo is very difficult to find on public land in Austin because not many places are managing the habitat. Balcones Canyonlands National Wildlife Refuge however, is the exception and there are an estimated 30 breeding pairs on their property.

After mist netting we did a combination of checking existing nests and looking for new nests. Nest searching requires patience and skill. I learned the "scolding" sound the females make when she is separated from the male, especially during the nest-building period. The biologist was especially cued in to this scold and was usually able to quickly find the nest if he was in the vicinity of the female after she made the scolding sound. The male will also briefly sing as the female is actively building the nest. Obviously these birds sing after dawn, but the song is 5 or 10 minutes apart and he will not sit still. You may hear the bird at one location and 10 minutes later when he sings again, he will be in a completely different area. Once you hear the vireo and he is on the move, you must race through a thick tangle of scrub oak and ashe juniper, all the while dodging prickly pear cactus, poison ivy, maintaining your balance amidst the exposed, loose limestone rocks that are hidden in the grass to keep up with a bird that may be actively nest building, or simply foraging. If the bird is foraging, the process begins anew and you have to follow the same bird until he or she returns to the new nest. The nest is a mere 2-3 feet off the ground, usually hidden among the leaves in the heart of a shin oak.

Under the sun in the wilds of central Texas I also watched 2 Swainson's Hawks quarrel and wheel in the sky, watched a Sharp-shinned Hawk shoot across our heads, came across a Common Ground Dove sitting on her nest, admired Texas Mountain Laurel, Mexican Buckeye, Bluebonnets and a myriad of small yellow flowers.

It was an amazing day.

March Book Club: A Mercy

2010-03-16T22:15:00.004-05:00

This month's book was Mercy by Toni Morrison. The story takes place in 1690, when slavery was still fairly new to America. Florens, the main character, is the child of a slave and is offered as payment to a debt. Jacob is the man who takes Florens as payment to his small, struggling farm that is primarily populated by women. (Jacob does not like having too many men on the farm while he is away) The women on the farm are Rebekkah, Jacob's wife, Lina and Sorrow are the female slaves. The other 3 men characters in the story that play small, but important parts are the Blacksmith, Will and Scully.

Each chapter is told from a different perspective and the reader learns the character's present situation and thoughts are often affected by their past.

Spoilers below.

From my personal perspective, I thought the prose in this book was beautiful and the story spoke to me. The first thing that struck me was the theme of hardship that we impose on others: slavery, class, religion, women's rights. For example, in the beginning of the book, D'Ortega is the cash strapped farmer who is eager to pay his debt to Jacob with another human being. D'Ortega looks at his slaves as commodities instead of people.

Rebekkah parents treated her in much the same way, especially when she came to be of marriage age and there were few prospects in England. Her father searched for a prospective husband and found Jacob's request in a newspaper (Jacob lived in America). It was obvious her father was indifferent to her daughter having a better life than he. He just wanted her out of the house because it would be one less mouth to feed. ...Rebekkah's mother objected to the "sale" - she called it that because the prospective groom had stressed "reimbursement" for clothing, expenses and a few supplies - not for the love or need of her daughter, but because the husband to be was a heathen living among savages. And when Rebekkah made the move to America and married Jacob, she never heard from her family again.

Sorrow was a bit older than Florens but had a great deal of hardship in her young life, beginning with her surviving a mass murder on the ship she grew up on. She developed a mechanism to cope with this severe trauma but as a result she was perceived as odd. Instead of being treated with patience and compassion, she was feared and treated as an outcast by the women she lived with on the farm.

Lina was a central character in the book, but somehow it seemed there was too little light shed on this character. She was a member of a tribe that was overcome by illness and when Presbyterians took her in, preaching religion as the "right way" of life, she lost her freedom to slavery. She often inflicted hardship on others, especially Sorrow.

Perhaps the person most affected by hardship was Florens, beginning with her mother offering Florens as payment for D'Ortega's debt. Florens was subjected to the careless way the Blacksmith took her heart and left her behind and this was the beginning of the end for this young woman. Lina, the matriach of the slave family, opposed Floren's attachment to the Blacksmith that waltzed in as a free black man to build an iron gate for Jacob's new estate. She knew this man would break Florens' heart, possibly even her soul.
Florens had been a quiet, timid version of herself at the time of displacement. Before destruction. Before sin. Before man...Lina saw the flaw in Florens' unabiding devotion to the blacksmith and Florens was blind to it. "You are a leaf on his tree" "No," said Florens "I am his tree."

When Rebekkah fell ill she asked for the Blacksmith's aid (he had some medical knowledge) and Florens eagerly volunteered to go find him under the illusion of a happy reunion would be had. The sad transformation began on this journey. When Florens stayed with a widow and her young child she was subjected to the harsh racial and religious prejudice of a visiting pastor and his family. They forced her to take off her clothes to make sure she was not a demon.
...eyes that examine me for a tail, an extra teat, a man's whip between my legs...they want to see if my tongue is split like a snake, or if my teeth or filing to points to chew them up.

Florens makes her escape from the house, but the experience just short of shattered her.
Inside I am shrinking. I climb the stream bed under watching trees and know I am not the same. I am losing something with every step I take. I can feel the drain. Something precious is leaving me. I am a thing apart...inside dark is small, feathered and toothy...

And when Florens arrives at the Blacksmith's doorstep, she is disheartened to see he has a young child and there is not the joyous, passionate reunion she was expecting. He leaves the child in Florens care while he tends to Rebekkah and the young woman barely tolerates the boy's presence, seeing him as competition for the Blacksmith's attention. She ends up nearly beating the boy and then the Blacksmith, when he interrupts the physical violence. She is hurt and doesn't understand when he calls her a slave with no mind or sense of self. She is enraged and her fury takes on a life of its own.

At the end of the book, Florens allowed this recent run of hardships to wreck her life, making her mother's sacrifice for naught. And here is where the mercy and hardship intermingle. The mother did not surrender Florens because she no longer wanted her child, as Florens believed, but because the mother wanted Florens to have a better life. The sacrifice was a hardship both on mother and daughter but for different reasons and only the mother knew the true reason for the sacrifice.

Oh Deer!

2010-03-12T18:47:00.010-06:00

I went to the Ecology Center this morning to check the nestboxes in the woods and came across this deer skeleton.

My Photographer's eye and Naturalists' curiosity went into overdrive and I spent quite a bit of time examining each bone and "posing" some of the more interesting pieces. Naturally the deer's skull caught my attention first.

Deers have antlers, not horns. Horns are composed mainly of keratin and grow continuously, whereas antlers are made of bone and are shed yearly. Deer shed their antlers sometime in January and begin growing new ones in early spring. Those antlers will grow 1-2" weekly until fall. Those growing antlers are covered in velvet, which contain blood vessels and nerve endings and once the antlers stop growing, the velvet dies and begins to peel. The adult buck will help this process along and rub the velvet off those antlers within a day or two.

The eyes of a deer are interesting as well.

The eyes are located on the side of the head providing the deer with 310 degree vision. This wide angle view of things allows the deer to be aware of its surroundings, even when he is staring straight ahead. The disadvantage to this is that the deer cannot focus on one object or location with both eyes and has poor depth perception. Deer have excellent night vision and it is believed they can see in the ultraviolet light range, which is abundant in the early morning and late afternoon.

It is possible to age a deer based on the growth and wear of the teeth. Deer only have teeth on their bottom jaw and these teeth are big and fairly flat, ideal for chewing and grinding leaves, twigs and hard shelled seeds such as acorns.

The spine and pelvis fascinated me. I didn't realize how narrow the pelvis was on these animals.

This picture is my favorite:

What a unique find. I'm looking forward to the additional treasures I'm going to find this summer in the woods.

A great deal of the info I found on deer anatomy was on hunting.net and the Missouri Dept of Conservation website.

And don't worry Mom, I washed my hands after handling the bones.

The Nest Boxes Are Up!

2010-02-26T15:15:00.006-06:00

I spent a fun morning out at the Ecology Center today. I picked a few spots for the nest boxes earlier in the fall and patiently waited for the boxes to be built by the hort volunteers and then for the weather to cooperate. If it wasn't raining, or snowing it was too cold. In fact, I was afraid today was going to be too cold as well because the morning temp hovered around 20F. But the boxes went into the ground will little difficulty.

The birds I'm looking to be use the nest boxes are primarily Carolina Chickadees and House Wrens. HOWEVER, Tufted Titmice and even Eastern Bluebirds are possibilities as well. The Nature Center (where I mistnet with my gang of favorite ladies) have had Eastern Bluebirds inhabit their woodland nest boxes.

Ideally Eastern Bluebirds prefer weedy, open fields and pastures, but the Eurasian Tree Sparrows are the first to build nests in the nest boxes in the prairie at the Ecology Center and defend that box once they establish it as their territory. I saw a bit of that nest competition at work today and without realizing it, snapped a photo of it in action.

There were at least 3 male Bluebirds in the prairie and woodland today and I took this shot of a male Bluebird sitting on top of this nest box. I didn't notice the pair of Eurasian Tree Sparrows in the background to the right until after I downloaded the photograph.

I understand to a simple degree the behavior of some of the bird species I encounter but I still try to reason with them and find myself rooting for the "under dog". I LOVE my Eurasian Tree Sparrows. Despite the fact that they are a non-native bird, they are unique to St. Louis and found only in a handful of other places in the United States. They are bullied by their House Sparrow cousins, who drive them out of their preferred habitat. But every spring I find myself irrationally pleading with my Sparrows to let the Bluebirds have just one or two nest boxes.

The Bluebirds are native to Missouri and their population has rebounded from dangerously low numbers. Their troubles began early last century when settlers converted their habitat to farmland. Pesticide use and further urbanization of their ideal habitat continued to make life hard for the Bluebirds but a movement started by the North American Bluebird Society to create artificial nesting cavities (nest boxes) in the late 70s have helped them bounce back.

Everyone, including myself, really want the Bluebirds to nest at the Ecology Center. Staff and volunteers alike will tell me of a Bluebird sighting and during the spring and summer, I'm stopped at least once per visit and asked if the Bluebirds are using the nestboxes. In 2008, we did have a pair of Bluebirds successfully raise 3 broods of chicks in the prairie but none last summer.

This year with the additional boxes in the woodlands, I'm hoping to give the Bluebirds the boost they need. Stay tuned and keep your fingers crossed.

Magic Bites

2010-02-09T19:46:00.003-06:00

Atlanta provides the backdrop for the first book in this urban fantasy series. But instead of the noisy hustle and bustle of a big city, this Atlanta is filled with magic users, shape shifters, vampires and supernatural monsters. While modern technology does work (this is called the "tech") in this setting, magic waves do hit the city rendering all modern comforts useless. Parts of the city not under the protection of magic resemble war zones as these unpredictable waves have eaten away at the architecture, reducing tall buildings to rubble and hallowed shells.
Life in this Atlanta is rough. In addition to the run-of-the-mill crimes of murder, grand theft auto and the like, there is also the supernatural variety of crime. Dangerous magic lurks on the wrong side of the tracks and the Shapeshifters and Vampires (known as The People), who loosely resemble Mafia Gangs, reign supreme and are at war with each other. The police are not much use in this area of crime, but this is where the Mercenary Guild and the Order of Knights of Merciful Aid step in to dispatch summoned creatures of the nether world and investigate crimes of the paranormal variety.
We meet Kate Daniels in this first book. She's a hardened young woman with inborn magical abilities. She freelances for the Merc Guild and the Order and has recently learned her mentor, a Knight of the Order, has been murdered. She sets into action to find his killer. Kate questions the "Beast Lord", also known as Curran, the alpha Lion shapeshifter of Atlanta but it turns out some of his pack members have been murdered and he needs Kate's help as well. Before long both shapeshifters and vampires are suspects in what is now appears to be a string of related murders.
The ending is a surprise and kudos to Ms. Andrews on her creativity on the who and what of the crimes. The author does a wonderful job of balancing the strengths and weaknesses of the main characters Kate and Curran. Kate's physical prowess is remarkable, but she does have her limitations and has her ass handed to her enough to keep her ego in check. She is protective of her friends and even more so of her past. The author keeps you in suspense of Kate's past and her abilities, only dropping hints of Kate's powers here and there. Ms. Andrews knows how to weave a believable story involving real people with realistic personalities.
If you're looking for a different genre to read, this is a good book that introduces the realm of urban fantasy.

Aw Crap

2010-02-02T15:53:00.003-06:00

OOPS. I did it again. Where did the time go? Believe it or not, I think about my blog often. I think of a topic or of an event and say to myself, "That would be a great blog entry!" But the words often do not accompany the idea. I've read several times that wannabe writers need to write every day. I don't know why I don't put forth the effort. I enjoy writing. I know my writing would stay decent if I practiced more often. But sometimes the idea of writing every day intimidates me. What if I run out of things to say? What then? How much would I have to write if I wrote every day and for how long? Is there a rule book?

But for today I will catch you up on what's been going on for the last several weeks. Prep for Summer field work. I realize over 75% of my entries are on this very subject and I apologize for my lack of originality. But I promise future blog entries will be about other topics. I PROMISE. (Ok, now I just need to hold to the promise)

I attended a bird banding conference in October and met several people who were also passionate about their field jobs. One man in particular gave a presentation on the importance of the questions and design of a research project. His talk began niggling at the doubt I had over MY research design. I wasn't confident with my research methods. I was more-or-less blindly going on what I had done on the projects of other professionals.

I thought a lot about what the man talked about after that conference and began reforming my questions. That took a few weeks but when I was happy with my study questions, the research methods for my project loomed overhead. This happened around the same time I started looking for grant money and inevitably, all the grant applications asked about your research methods. Ok, time to stop procrastinating and take a hard look at the way I was doing my field work.

So I emailed the gentleman who gave the presentation at the conference. We corresponded for about a month and I walked away knowing that some of my research methods were not appropriate for my study. Ouch. But on a positive note, he helped me refine my bird census technique and made me realize that I needed to completely revamp my Nestbox study.

One of the big things the field researcher from the conference pointed out to me was the need for control sites. One of the main questions of my project is centered around bird response to prairie burns and overall habitat size. I had no other prairie habitats to compare to the focal point of my study at the Nature Center. So I began looking for other prairie habitats around my area. In the past, a great chunk of Missouri was covered in prairie. Today, only about 1% of prairie remains in the Show Me state. Finding at least 2 other prairie sites promised to be a challenge. But luck was on my side. I found 2 organizations that sported restored prairie habitat and both were less than 20 miles from my home. I'm still ironing out the details with one of the organizations, but the other prairie (and accompanying paperwork that will absolve me of trouble with the law when I'm hiking around at the crack of dawn) is good to go.

I applied for one grant in early January and will be writing a revised grant proposal to turn in to the Nature Center in the next few weeks. There are still a few worrisome details I need to iron out. Like how in the hell do I perform a habitat assessment? I need to determine plant dominance and density in my prairie plots. You have no idea how often I think about this and worry. I did find a website created by a professor at a university about that very topic. I also have a book that touches on it as well. So really, I should put this concern to rest.

As to my Nestbox Study. Well, I'm disappointed in the results from the last 2 years of data. But writing the report and giving the presentation was good practice. This year I would like to get kids involved. I want to bring field science to the kids. What better way to teach conservation and respect to the environment through hands on experience with living animals? I've pestered at least 2 of my coworkers to let me practice on their children. I hope I have little helpers this summer. That would just make me squee.

You may wonder why I'm putting forth all this effort. A few reasons. I still have hopes for graduate school somewhere in the distant future. If I can create a successful study design on my own, graduate school will not seem so impossible or overwhelming. This research stuff is good practice and a good confidence builder. For me, this study is what conservation is all about. Discovering how plant and animal life are affected by human disturbance and in turn, showing those results to the public. And there's this tiny seed of a dream that perhaps in the future, people will see my work and want to hire me as a contractor to evaluate their management practices on their property, or do freelance work with school districts and take kids OUTSIDE during science class or after school.

But for right now, I'm just in love with the birds and the beauty of the prairie.

Career Day

2009-12-21T08:24:00.006-06:00

Friday I took part in a 7th grade Career Day. It was a large event. There were at least 50 professionals ranging from military and medical to hair stylist, animal rescue and dental hygienist. The afternoon was set up on a 20 minute rotation. I was told to expect no more than 6 kids at a time and I had 20 minutes to discuss what a typical day entailed, schooling involved, salary, as well as likes/dislikes about the job. I had my own classroom, complete with white board, computer and projector.

I was a bit apprehensive about this career day. Usually people's eyes start to glaze over when they ask me "What do you do for a living?" How was I going to make this interesting for a bunch of 7th graders? So I put together a power point presentation of photos of my mistnetting and checking nest boxes. I began telling the kids about my field project and the things they were learning in Science Class (I used the terms Scientific Method, Independent Variable, Dependent Variable, Hypothesis, Habitat, Predator in every talk) were going to stick with them long after school was finished. I showed them the photos and peppered my talk with personal stories and tidbits on bird behavior.

The questions from the kids were what made each presentation interesting and entertaining. I can only hope I was as enlightening and entertaining as they were. Here are the highlights from my afternoon.

What was the funniest thing that happened to you?
I learned the hard way to not just stick your hand in a nestbox without looking first. Once I stuck my hand in a box and when I pulled it out, it was covered in ants. This is my favorite funny story. It's disgusting and I still get the chills when I think about it, but it was funny.

What was the scariest thing that happened to you?
I went up to Alaska to work one summer. We were camping near a stream in the mountains when we had a bear come into our camp. Another favorite story of mine. I love the reactions I get. There was no real danger here. The bear barely entered our camp perimeter when he saw us, turned tail and ran.

What do you like about your job?
The first thing I love the most is being able to have the birds in my hand to look at them and learn about them. It's neat to see their colors up close. The second thing I love about my job is being outside. I like being able to watch the habitat I'm studying change...the growth of flowers, grasses. It all changes in the spring and summer. Nothing stays the same.

What do you hate about your job?
Doing the math calculations for my reports. There is a lot of math involved.

The discussions on bird behavior and resulting stories were entertaining as well. In one group the topic of aggressive Canada Geese came up. I told them that most geese were aggressive because they were usually defending chicks and sometimes territory. When I advised the kids to simply walk further away when they saw adults with their young offspring, one girl raised her hand and said she had a story. Thinking she was going to talk about young geese, I agreed to let her speak and this is what she said.

This one time, um, I think I was 5, it was winter and I was outside and there were mom geese on one side of a pond and dad geese on the other side of the pond and I fed them and there was a sign that said don't feed the geese, but I couldn't read so I didn't know and then these 10 kids came up and picked me up by my shoulders and threw me in the pond.

What?

In another rotation we were discussing songbirds. I learned that one girl's grandmother had bird feeders out and she "made the nectar juice for the hummingbirds." As soon as she stopped talking another boy piped up that his mom screamed and freaked out when a bird flew in their house.

I think my favorite discussion was on birds not being able to count or smell. We were talking about baby birds in one group when one girl mentioned her family taking care of a baby bird that fell out of its nest.

You know what? Birds can't count and they can't smell. So if you happen to find a baby bird on the ground and there's a nest nearby, you can put the bird in the nest. The bird won't know if she has 4 or 5 babies. She'll take care of it. And it can be a different species too. It's ok to put a robin baby bird in a cardinal's nest.

Wait. But won't the momma bird abandon the nest?

Nope. She can't smell, remember?

But, she's going to know you put it there.

No she won't. She can't smell the scent from your hands.

But how is she going to know that you put it in there?

One boy grew tired of this exchange and said in an exasperated tone: SHE CAN'T SMELL. SHE DOESN'T KNOW!

Then the light bulb went off in the girls head. It was so obvious that I almost expected to hear the click of the switch. Ohhhhh.

I smiled at her and said "The only birds that can smell are turkey vultures. They can smell dead animals and that's important, since that's what they eat."

Can they smell us or other living animals?

Hmm, I don't know. That's a good question actually. I'll have to look that one up and you can as well.

During the last rotation, I found myself in a debate with one boy who was convinced turkeys had their nests up in trees when in fact, turkeys are ground nesters. This went on for about 2 minutes when I found myself saying "Dude, I've been working with birds longer than you've been alive. I know what I'm talking about."

Did I just say THAT?

In any case, it was a fun afternoon and I hope I sparked an interest in some of these kids.

A field of fire

2009-12-02T08:12:00.015-06:00

Yesterday I had the opportunity to watch the annual prairie burn at the Ecology Center. The Ecology Center has been managing 12 acres of Tallgrass Prairie since 1989 through planting Mo native grasses and forbs and yearly burns. The prairie is divided up into 3 plots and each plot is burned every other year. Last year the North Prairie was burned and this year the South Prairie was due for its burn. (Next year will be the North and Pasture prairies)

Historically speaking, the Native Americans burned the prairies and woodlands on a regular basis as a way to fireproof their villages, prepare planting sites, control undesirable pests, control movement of game (especially bison), encourage berry production and expose acorns for food collection. This tradition was continued by European Settlers but US gov agencies such as the Forest Service began to discourage the practice in the early 20th century and by the 1950s the custom was extinguished.

The Ecology Center take these burns very seriously and employ a number of safety measures to ensure the success of the fire. All burns are conducted within a "prescription": a set of guidelines for weather and fire safety, taking into account factors such as humidity, temperature, wind speed, and wind direction. The Fire Department is on hand and the Ecology staff and volunteers don water tanks, rakes and flappers to control small fires that may try to burn too close to the predetermined fire breaks. (areas that serve as buffer zones between the burn site and those locations that must not be burned, such as the woodland and nearby homes). A 65 gallon water container follows the Fire Starters in the event the burn gets out of control.

The fire is started with a drip torch, an aluminum canister that holds a 2:1 fuel mixture of diesel and gasoline. The torch slowly drips fire once lit and has 2 safety mechanisms to prevent flashback.

The fire starters wear fire resistant suits made of Nomex or other similar material.

It was a beautiful day for a prairie burn. The sky was clear and there was a gentle breeze. The ground may have been a bit damp from the October rains, but there was enough dried vegetation on the ground to get the fire going.

The grasses (Big Bluestem, Indian Grass, Switchgrass) caught fire quickly and produced the exciting towers of flames but the Cup Plant and Goldenrod plant species appeared to have retained moisture from all the rain and did not easily burn. Ecology Center staff later told me these plant species normally do not burn well.

The tall plants in the middle are Cup Plants.

Fires play an important role in the Prairie ecosystem. Fire cleans and fertilizes. Most prairie plants grow from just below the surface, not from their stems above the ground so a fire will not kill these plants. However burning will clear out those unwanted plant species not adapted for a fire, plants that may have been prohibiting prairie plants from growing on their native grounds. After the growing season, prairie plants store minerals in their stems, leaves and bark. When these plants are burned and reduced to ash, the minerals in the ashes of the plants return to the soil.

The burned, blackened soil is quickly heated up by the sun's rays and stimulates seed germination, sprouting and growth.

Here is a photo of Nestbox #5, taken last summer

And here is Nestbox #5 after the burn

The burn took a little over an hour to complete and the plot will be carefully monitored for the next few days for signs of smoldering flames. In a few months there will be no sign that this burn ever took place.

Let the growing season begin!

"I pity the fool!" Mr. T and World of Warcraft.

2009-11-23T19:58:00.007-06:00

You may have seen the infamous Mr. T from the "A Team" do the Night Elf Mohawk commercial for World of Warcraft last year. It's a 30 second clip where Mr. T proclaims he is a mighty "Night Elf Mohawk" and hollers "Shut up fool!" when the director tells him there's no such thing as a Night Elf Mohawk. William Shatner, Ozzy Osborne and Verne Troyer (Mini Me) also did commericals for World of Warcraft.

Mr. T has crossed the TV threshold into video game land. World of Warcraft is promoting the ingame Night Elf Mohawk grenades.

Are you intrigued? Would you like to know how to get your very own Night Elf Mohawk grenades? Here are the 3 easy steps to get your very own grenade.

Step One
You can easily find Mr. T (aka Night Elf Mohawk) standing outside the starter zone in Elwynn Forest.

Step Two
Simply talk to Night Elf Mohawk and listen to his story.

Step Three
Voila! Night Elf Mohawk will give you a stack of 5 Mohawk grenades you can throw at other players.

Soon everyone (well 5 people anyways) will be running around looking like Mr. T and pitying the fools who don't sport the same awesome Mohawk.

Doesn't this make you want to run out and buy the game? ;)

Sometimes there's a wildlife adventure in your backyard.

2009-11-17T16:18:00.006-06:00

It has been an overcast day here and I let the semi-darkness lull me to sleep this afternoon in the Family Room. When I woke up my black-and-white cat Samantha was chittering with an unusual intensity at something outside the sliding glass doors. I got up in time to see a Cooper's Hawk perched atop my bird feeders. The thought to grab my camera occurred when the nap induced fog lifted from my brain. But as with all things in wildlife, only the fast are rewarded and the slowest are denied. I was too slow and I missed my opportunity. The Hawk lifted and was gone.

The Cooper's Hawk (Accipiter cooperii) is a medium sized bird of prey in the Accipiter family. They inhabit woodlands, parks and even urban areas. Their food of choice is other birds, preferably those that are dove-sized. Their smaller size and wing shape allow them to zip through trees and shrubs to pursue their prey. Once they capture their prey, this Hawk will squeeze it to death, rather than biting to kill, as Falcons often do.

About 30 minutes later I passed through the Family Room and found the Cooper's Hawk in the neighbor's tree in the yard directly behind us. She (I'm calling the Hawk a "She" based on the size. Females raptors are generally bigger than their male counterparts. Of course size is difficult to determine when you cannot compare two of the same birds together side by side) was perched among a handful of Cardinals standing guard.

I was surprised the smaller birds were so close to the Hawk, but reasoned she could not easily reach any of these birds just out of talon's reach. I was also surprised that the activity at my bird feeders resumed, despite the Hawk's presence. But when it's cold and you need to consume as much food as possible to survive, you take your chances. I decided to sit and watch the Hawk. For awhile, she perched comfortably, unmoving and uninterested in her surroundings. But then she began to perk up, looking up at the sentinel Cardinals, surveying the yard before her and then looking back at my feeders.

When the Hawk shifted to face my feeders, some of the birds in my backyard scattered and the Goldfinch still at the finch feeder barely had enough time to escape with his life by the time Cooper's Hawk launched from the tree.

It has been my experience that most people tend to believe the exciting wildlife drama happens outside of suburbia and I was once one of those believers. You may not always witness the excitement of a Cooper's Hawk hunting for food at a bird feeder, but if you pay careful attention to your surroundings, you can see the predator-prey food cycle at work. You may find a Praying Mantis sitting on a flower stalk, waiting to ambush the unsuspecting bee, or find a Harvestman with a dying butterfly in its grasp (True story! I watched this!).

I experience mixed feelings each time I have an encounter with a Cooper's Hawk. The presence of this raptor is usually the demise for some poor songbird, but I can't help but admire their beauty and adaptations for hunting. She was a beautiful bird and I'm grateful she livened up my afternoon.

Numbers

2009-11-03T18:11:00.007-06:00

Holy crap. Has it really been 2 months since I've last posted an entry? Wow.

Well, I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. I've been following my favorite blogs and have even thought about posting but I've been a bit...preoccupied.

The Bird Sanctuary is hosting the Inland Bird Banding Association conference this year and yours truly is presenting a paper. As most of you know, I have spent the last 2 summers studying the songbird populations on a piece of restored prairie(Entries here and here and here). I narrowed my focus (because there are a few things I'm studying) on the nest boxes on the prairie and whether or not prescribed burns affect the predation rate on the nest boxes. Eurasian Tree Sparrows were the birds predominantly using the boxes

I began writing the paper in August, right around the time I stopped blogging as a matter of fact. Academic pursuits bring out the worst of my neurotic tendencies. The paper started easily enough. I breezed through the introduction and procedure portions of the paper but the difficulties began with the results section. I had to review and interpret 2 years worth of data: numbers of eggs that hatched, chicks that survived to leave the nest box, predation numbers. So...many...numbers. The panic began to trickle in but it was quelled with a call to Shark Girl (who is now in Grad school I might add :) )

"There's so many fricking numbers!" I exclaimed during our first of at least 3 calls

"Indeed. A lot to interpret." She agreed.

I know that first call lasted at least 3 hours. I'm not exaggerating. But we did get a lot done.

The hill of difficulty progressively got steeper over the weeks, as did my level of anxiety. What was I going to do with all of these percentages? How did I make sense of and organize the numbers? The words "T-test" began to float around and I panicked. T-test? I didn't even remember how to do a T-test. Then my self esteem tanked. What kind of field biologist was I that I couldn't do a T-test, much less think of running one? What the hell was I doing? I felt like an impostor. I had no business preparing a presentation! Danno's dad came to my rescue that time and helped me break down my numbers into a more manageable size. He also walked me through some simple calculations that could be performed on Excel. Heck, he almost made it look like fun!

An odd combination of excitement, panic and low self esteem formed and filtered into my thoughts, sleep and stomach. I often fell asleep only to wake up with thoughts about the numbers, what they meant and wondering how to put them all together. Eating resulted in heartburn and looking at my data on Excel only drove the panic.

It wasn't long before Beetle Guru and Shark Girl became my Sparrow Champions. They listened to my thoughts and ideas on the paper, critiqued my paper and researched potential stastitical tests that could be run on my data. They also offered a great deal of emotional support. They became common recipients to the "I can't do this I give up" panic, (received either through email or texting before the subsequent phone call) They told me I was doing Graduate level work without the help of a professor or a university.

I LOVE field biology but the math really does turn the anxiety up for me. Honestly, it's the main reason I won't touch graduate school with a 10 foot pole. I'm not sure I could pass any population statistics or other class devoted to interpreting ecology-oriented numbers. It amazes me the number of people (like Beetle Guru and Shark Girl) who believe that I can accomplish the feat of Grad School.

After 2 agonizing months, the paper is finished and the presentation is ready. I'm happy it's finished and I'm already wiggling in anticpation of beginning my work again in the spring. It's funny how the paper took a life of its own and how much I learned in the process. I learned a different way or two how to interpret data, improved my scientific writing skills and discovered there are a few causes that need to be ruled out in terms of predation for next summer. But the biggest thing I learned is that it's ok to seek help and obtaining that help doesn't mean I'm no less intelligent

My next goal is to secure funding for next year's research. I still need to write another report for the mistnetting and bird census results. Put your seat belts on ladies and gentlemen. We may be in for a bumpy ride.