I keep promising myself I won't talk about birds, because most people don't know a starling from a grackle and furthermore don't care, whereas I have been utterly nutty about them since childhood. Cruel experience has taught me that having a snotty child correct an adult about the birds they are viewing is somehow NOT APPRECIATED--imagine THAT!--so I have learned to shut my trap unless I happen to stumble across a fellow bird nerd, as was the case when I met Dr.
I've been meaning to update y'all about our new resident Problem Bear. Let's see... to recap, I was alerted by the Cowardly Pets and looked out to see a tagged bear out in the back yard. Scared him off with the judicious use of an air horn. He punched a hole through our blackberry briars trying to get away from me.
I can remember the first time I saw a wild turkey. We were renting a house in the middle of an industrial park--sort of this island of woods and fields in the middle of this huge airport industrial park, maybe half a mile from the airport. We had this very long half-a-mile driveway, and we were on our way out--the driveway dumped us in the middle of an aerospace contractor's parking lot--when we encountered this huge bird sitting in the middle of our driveway. It was way too big and ugly to be one of our chickens, and not ugly enough to be a turkey vulture.
...that yes, indeed, it is finally spring.
Monday afternoon after my bitter whining (and no, I didn't end up seeing a sad movie; instead I watched cartoons--welcome to the roller coaster of Mojo's sorry existence) I was driving around and I *DID* see two whole robins. Not together, but singletons. It did not necessarily raise my spirits, but it did give Mojo hope for the future.
So the other day I'm driving along a local highway, and the median grass strip contained a good-sized flock of robins. I've reported before that the robins tend to arrive in late February and early March around here. They start off in these big flocks for a few weeks until they get territorial. Also, right after they arrive we have lots of snow, and I have the vague worry that they're all going to starve to death with the food buried.
But I guess robins have been around slightly longer than Mojo, so perhaps her worrying is in vain. Oh, well. It gives Mojo something to do.
I like birds. Always have. I had a life list back before bird watching and bird feeding became popular. I remember when the mockingbirds first moved in (I was in my teens, so it was the Seventies) and dive-bombed my cat for the rest of her life.
So I tend to notice birds and identify them as I'm bopping through life. Which is why I did a double take in the car. I was driving around when I could have SWORN I saw a robin fly away from the side of the road.
Mojo, as you all well know, doesn't care all that much for sports. That was before I started witnessing firsthand the travesty of basketball being played by a bunch of five-year-olds. Yes, even Mojo's hardened cynical heart feels bad for the sport watching children trying to dribble and shoot a ball almost as big as they are.