So one of the ways to get from Mojo's house back to civilization--you know, the place where people wear clothes and shoes--takes you along a road that parallels a small stream that is the home of numerous historical beaver ponds and dams in various stages of disrepair. I don't think there are currently any beavers along the stream--all the ones I have seen have been down at the lake--but every quarter mile or so there is (are?) the remnants of a beaver dam--usually a swampy meadow, some still full of dead trees, etc.
Two things, neither of them of any huge consequence. But Mojo enjoys her fretting.
Today (Tuesday) I left the house in the morning. Mrs. Yellowthroat wasn't on the nest, so I took a peek, as is my custom. Three eggs.
I came home mid-afternoon. Mrs. Yellowthroat wasn't on the nest, so I took a peek.
Surprise! No eggs! Just three ugly little spudlings!
The picture's a bit blurry 'cuz I had to run and get the camera and snap their portraits before Mrs. Yellowthroat came back. I'm sure she was glaring at me the whole time, anyway.
Or maybe that should be "pooring"? As in "poor Mojo. Poor, poor, poor, poor Mojo."
How sweet it is, to see how optimistically she ends yesterday's blog! Here, let me repeat one of her last statements: "This morning it starts like a charm. So far."
"So far" being the operative phrase, here.
So yesterday morning after her morning blog our beloved Mojo is relaxing in the bathtub, letting Calgon take her away, or however the commercial used to go, only it wasn't Calgon, but instead some generic liquid soap, but once again I digress....the point being, I am sinking into my nice hot bath and relaxing before starting my oh-so-important day, and a movement catches the corner of my eye.
Okay, here's part of number two. Part because I realized sometime yesterday that when I exported it to a QT movie I forgot to include both scenes, and I'm too lazy to redo it. Sad.
But this shows the little cloud of hatchlings out in the grass of my garden. They are still bleached white from being inside the egg case for months. I checked on them at the end of the day (sans camera) and they were still there, but suntanned to a lovely browny-green.
About a month ago, while oot and aboot with my Five Year Old Friend, on a whim I bought one of those praying mantis egg cases. The "instructions"--and I use the term quite loosely, since there's not much one can DO with a praying mantis egg case except watch and hope--caused me no end of suspicion since they misspelled the name of the critter as a "Preying Mantis", but I digress. They also had a standard disclaimer at the end saying they were not responsible for their livestock and I could have very well spent five bucks on a dud.
...and listening, too. When I came out of the library late Saturday afternoon (no, my Favorite Husband is NOT now a "satellite widower", as my Favorite Older Sister contends; I was working a REGULAR SHIFT and hey, if that shift now happens to contain high speed internet access that's not MY fault now, is it?) I came out to a giant migratory flock of just about every bird imaginable twittering his or her (most likely his) little lungs out. It is a good sound to hear this time of year.
Mojo's Favorite Mother's Owl Collection, Volume 8
Generic Ceramic Owls!
Mojo does not know or remember or particularly care if her Favorite Mother's Owl Collection was something her mother actually wanted to collect, or if it was intially or subsequently foisted upon her by a large family desperate for ideas for holiday gifts to give her. All she knows is, now her Favorite Mother no longer wants or needs or desires her Owl Collection. So Mojo's Favorite Mother cunningly foisted these things on her Forgotten Middle Daughter, in a pretense of supporting the Craptacular, but we all know the reality is, it saved her a trip to the dump. And now these things are cluttering Mojo's house instead of her own, heh heh heh. Now you see where Mojo gets her cunning, cleverly wrapped as it is in a verbose folly of ineptitude and greed. And you can also see, perhaps, that Mojo is no match for her senior when it comes to wheedling manipulation and distraction techniques while foisting crap upon a gullible subject.
When I say "Hedgehog", what do you think? If you are like most people, you think, "Why did Mojo just say 'hedgehog' out of the blue? What is the meaning of this apparent nonsequitur? Has Mojo finally lost it? Even more so than usual? Am I in personal danger? Should I maybe take a casual step back away from her, but act so cool she won't know I'm doing it? Did I defrost the chicken we were planning on having tonight? I know, I will use the chicken as an excuse to get away from this social leech. Nobody can argue when chicken needs defrosting. What, she wants my whole family to come down with food poisoning because the chicken wasn't cooked thoroughly? I don't think so, Mojo!"