Mystery Guest(s)

What makes a supposedly sane person or bird for that matter- go out into a storm just to see what hasn't been seen, ever before at the bird feeder?  What strange force compels one to sit beneath a spruce tree with a recently replaced new digital camera that one could barely afford, and risk it's demise in a frigid wintry mix of moisture, snowfall and gale forces?!  Frost-bit be damned to the trigger finger...by golly, let it fall off- I must, I must I tell you- capture this image...

Mystery Guest

Who is this mystery guest?  I was all aflutter when I spied him and he spied me.  I tell you true, he did a little dance for me in the snow, not three feet away.  I believe he may have been as excited to see me as I him.  (Or her...)  It could be the reciprocating glee came from the fact that I was filling feeders in a blinding snow- still, let me have this one dream come true.  Just this one for now...a mystery guest came to these bold Downeast woods, and I am richer for it!


Now, on the flip side of that coin- the morning found me screaming at the top of my lungs, running through three feet of fresh on top of compacted snow with the most horrendous, useless boots on.   And wave my arms I did, and gestured hugely hollering and yelling towards the culprit who just moments earlier had knocked one guinea off it's roost by ripping it's head off from above pine branch and then zeroed in on another while this intended second victim tried to makes it safe way through showering snow and little light.  I saw this mystery unwanted guest pounce, grab, shake, rip- I heard the guinea scream to no avail while all others scattered, screaming too.  I rounded the pen and in the ten second time frame blind spot- I lost sight of the killer.  By losing sight yet never hearing the exit- I realized...an owl had just visited the tranquil forest's edge and reduced my guinea fowl population by two...
The one left on the ground, head still intact but...well, I won't go into detail -  there was just enough life left that I held her and stroked her, gave her thanksgiving and farewell.  My only regret- that the owl would have at least consumed these birds, instead- it came like a cat- dismembering, disenchanting the rest and me and now the safety in numbers and homestead is innocence lost to the not yet year old brood of the most nervous birds on the farm.   This same fellow or female came back at end of day to perch upon the tallest Spruce in the yard- viewing, waiting, ready to do the same as it had done in the early A.M.  In admiration, in joy- I would have grabbed my camera again to take THE photo of a great owl.  But at that time, I had no welcome in me- I only wanted this guest to leave and never come back.  So from a safe distance on our second snow covered story deck- again, I waved and screamed.

"Go away!!!  Get away you bastard...leave them alone."

And then, after it seemed I had no affect on this wild forager- I pleaded with him-
"Then just take one to feed on, but only one.  I know you're hungry, I know you need to eat too...but such waste you left in your wake this morning.  If you are such a great hunter, prove it.  If you are so wise, be that too.  Don't take more than you need, don't kill just to kill.  Surely you are a better bird than that."
I know...but when you're left with the only weapon that truly can make a difference, if only to your self- appealing with reason, if only your own- at least it brings a bit of peace to the situation.
From that lofty perch, where the owl remained and swiveled that magnificent head then- towards me...silently, swiftly and oh so very elegantly- he left.  Up, up on open wide wings towards the deeper woods from where he came.   And I was thankful, again- for a time.
Later I put on those awful boots, adorning myself as well with scarf and mittens, Carharts and an umbrella and waited with the rest...the guineas in their secret other perch, me underneath.  We heard the who-o-o-s and fretted almost silently, so as not to give off the new position.  But I thought I heard nervous talk among the survivors- and finally came the call from the new leader-
To me this is what he said to the clan, "We are safe as long as we remain together, quietly- until one feels truly endangered.  Then by all means, speak up so that the rest of us might know what we are up against.  Otherwise, quiet yourselves- be still..."


I went in then, to my warm fire- leaving the way of the world and the wild to the forces greater than I.
This morning finds me and the guineas, the Redpolls and Chickadees safe and in sunshine.

 The owl?  I do not know...he did not take me up on my offer, his ways are not my ways and as we both acknowledge each others predicaments, I guess one might say we live in peace at this telling- each on our own terms.

Redpoll

The birds have it

Good mid-morning to you, it's too hot to mow, too hot to weed, too hot to even think about too much...ooooh boys, it's hot!!! Ah heck, you probably figured that one out already if you're a Midwesterner...we've had alot of moisture as of late along with the glorious sunshine mixing it up and creating the ever loving weather phenomena that we call humidity- see how close the word resembles humility?? Hmmmm, both are humbling...perhaps bringing you down upon your knees, I suppose I look at words more these days as Lily has decided to study Linguistics...very interesting, yes indeed. She's got the brains and patience for learning the many languages and roots of words...hopefully she'll share all that knowledge with me so that I may actually back up a bit and give more depth to my sentences ( with mucho less words...I am a bit of an enthusiastic express-er of too many, ummm...words....but, you knew that, and still you follow, out of curiosity or madness, either way- I will give you your fill of words and their quirky meanings according to my untamed expression of them.)



Well, much like the rain these days- quite the overflow above there, that last paragraph, hmmmm...perhaps I ought to go mow anyhow. Thanks for listening, I sure have been fatigued lately, dead dog tired as they say. Is it just the heat do you suppose, or the massive undertaking going on right now in selling a farm and relocating, or hormones or is it all of the above?!



Well, whatever it is, I hope it goes away in time that I might actually enjoy the look and feel of a farm at it's very pretty best. Perhaps it is the lack of chaos recently that has left me feeling as if I'm too tired to relax, too taxed to really rest. Aren't we a funny race, when things go well we wonder what's up? And when things get rocky we wonder how long do we have to endure this tortuous trail??!!



But then, I get to noticing the little birds all about, the Catbird with it's really pathetic "mew" calls, and yet it seems perfectly smitten with it's surroundings and self. And the little wren that sits on the cedar right off the porch, this beauty of a little thing that warbles the loudest little melody, I can't help but wonder how such a tiny bird could muster up such a big song! And then I peered through my binoculars yesterday and spied the oddest little sparrow-like bird with black beak and beard and white ring around it's neck, couldn't identify this particular bird in my book, wondering if it could be perhaps European Sparrow? If any of you birders out there might help me, I'd appreciate it. Brown thrushes in the hedge, beautiful creatures quite acrobatic. The birds have it. My gaze, my wonder my utmost thanks for all who gather here and call this little humble abode home. More words...less mowing, now is the moment to get it in gear and tackle the lawn care. Take care-


And please if you will, follow the link below- my friend Kristine is a writer/blogger/gardener and she said some very kind things and filled me straight up with all the good stuff.



Beauregard Farm

Back to the feather

If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden, or looking for dinosaur eggs in the Gobi desert. He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar button that has rolled under the radiator. He will not be striving for it as a goal in itself. He will have become aware that he is happy in the course of living life twenty-four crowded hours of the day. --W. Beran Wolfe


The quote above hit me this morning like a ton of....feathers! Observing people is a favorite past time of mine, happy, sad, bitchy, gloomy-it does not matter, a story teller everyone. As BAM so eloquently commented, "the barely perceptible stars" among us. Very few people, I have observed, would fit the reference in the quote-but! at some point, in conversing with folks-their eyes do shine. Almost always, it is when they speak of their loves: children, family, beer, pets, gardens, music, sunrises, sunsets, a kiss, etc.
And most times, these are never present happenings, generally they are past experiences or hopeful future ones.
Hmmmmm. Speaking for myself, I am most happy in the present moment-when my mind turns off,my mouth shuts up and my ears and eyes, and sometimes touch-brings me the joy I often seek, but come to realize-to seek is often to miss out on discovering.

I'll go outside once I've finished here and chop ice, feed the animals, and say "good morning sun!" Happy, happy, joy, joy. Perhaps I'll discover a feather and marvel at it's intricacies, and wonder-which bird left this treasure? Or perhaps, out by the corn crib-I'll find owl scat with remnants of a late night snack and hope that my guineas, chickens and cats are all still accounted for. If not- well, I'll say something like,"Hey buddy!!! You've got fields galore and woods to boot, a smorgasbord of field mice await you! Knock it off." I'll think about shooting him, of course I know that's illegal-but still, I'll think about it...and realize eventually, he has as much right to exist as I do. I'll accept his habits-acknowledge he is no more trespassing on this land than I am. He's just doing what owls do...and I am thinking too much how to level the playing field for all the creatures here. AAAAARRRGGGHHH! There I go, thinking too much again! Back to the feather. A gift, a beauty- a souvenir of serendipity.

A slow-down-and-smell-the-icicles to you today, take care-

Think Again...and then some

“The funding of the humanities in colleges and universities cannot be justified by pointing to the fact that poems and philosophical arguments have changed lives and started movements.”

Why not? If not through the humanities, how else do we develop poets and philosophers? (Name of commenter/questioner not exposed.)

_From a blog-New York times "Think Again" by Stanley Fish


(Whew! Big and bigger words for a hayseed like me, but finally a comment that I can shed light on.) You don't. It is not up to an outsider to develop another's insides. The woods, though-are a good place to start, to become a philosopher, a poet. A tree tells me how to handle racism, social injustice, inequality- a true visionary, a tree. And how about the symphony there? And the growth, ring by ring-affected by humanity and nature's ruthless battle against it-tells me more than I ever cared to learn in a classroom. One more thing about the woods, which for my money-is the stuff we should really support...it is true poetry. The word of the woods, the root of every university and intelligent conversation-begins and ends with entering, being still, listening, being ever mindful(critical thinking?)of it all. Poets and philosophers, each of us-have only to develop ourselves of the natural, real world. Books are great, but critical thoughtful long awes of pause in a place where we all come from and all will return like compost, revealing truths that have no war of words against them-that my friends, is where the real education lies.
And one more thing, if I haven't worn out my welcome...Desiderata-Max Ehrmann-1920, cry every time I read the darn thing. Shaped me, made me want to grow beyond what had been stifled by teachers who thought well to teach me, but couldn't peer beyond their own educated noses-to see anything else. Open up your eyes, friends-look around. A little bit of woods will do us all-a world of good.

Hayseed Farmer, central Illinois
Un-educated university/college wise, different education, NO BETTER NO WORSE...Clearer now?!

(My comment on the funding of universities Humanities-which is good, but not best. These woods, our natural world we're eradicating, could care a chicken poop about-are the only places first and foremost that should be supported financially, physically, poetically. The woods are where I received my education, to a degree... I use to be ashamed about that-no degree, but-I think my own quirky personality would have been greatly stifled. So-hope I didn't step on any toes, hell-they probably won't even read my comment, beneath them I suppose. But- maybe they're all a little smarter than they let on.)(This thought pulled from the site mentioned, visit it before assuming the worst of me...geez! I found there, buried under a mountain of words-a root that we all stem from.)

I do not mean to offend
by what I do believe
but what kind of faith
to be found in conformity?

Let's find a shady spot
With a comfortable seat-
Come and sit beside me friend,
And we'll agree to disagree.

Hey, thanks for hanging in here...truewonder gettin' too big for her britches! (As my dad would aptly put it.) Look at a tree today, tell me what you see, or at the very least-keep it in mind, the story it told you.
Worlds of wonder to you, take care-