Open Writing

Migratory flyers

Thanks partly to the encouragement of those people from Indy, who can trot out several reasons to justify their actions, scaring their starlings out in our direction; we have our usual late winter to spring infestation. City born and raised starlings and grackles, who have about as much skill at living off the land as your grandma might, if she were forced to become a refugee.

But even one flying pest we can thank our fine weather for keeping away. It has been many a long day, since a stinging, biting, or otherwise noxious insect has pestered me.

I am getting less and less fond of winter, but you have to give credit where it's due. And I have seldom or never been bothered by mosquitoes, biting flies, or filth-spreading bugs when the weather has been as all-round ornery as we've seen it most of the time since New Years.

There's almost always a good side if you look carefully enough.

Smokin' the fencerows

Last Thursday about 9 am, we were headed into town to get stocked up before the storm. Seeing conditions were fine. There was another car close behind us, and a truck and a car coming towards us. Suddenly I saw something that made all those other drivers, and me brake quickly.

Along a field, at a right angle to us, came a full-sized coyote, moving at top speed. Nothing ahead of it. Nothing behind it. Must have been practicing for the Coyote Olympics.

We seldom see a coyote in the open in daylight. They really are a beautiful sight when they open up the throttle. With a flat quarter mile of corn stubble, I believe they can almost keep up with an antelope.

Here it comes

This morning before six, the sky was clear as could be. Moon and stars bright. Every freight-liner heading into Indy International was visible from a hundred miles out. I sat in my darkened living room The social structure surrounding the bird feeders is as rigid as the ones surrounding the waterholes in the Kalahari Desert.

With the clear and not terribly cold or windy air, you'd think this would have been a calm and peaceful morning. But the animals know. A big storm is on its way. This is one of those times when a little extra high-energy food can ensure the survival of your bloodline. I had made sure to fill my feeders last night. This afternoon, after lunch, I filled them again. I wanted to be sure my special friends, like old Tillie, my raccoon buddy doesn't get crowded out.

Tillie left me a very nice tip the other night. An unusually large and showy piece of driveway gravel. I suppose she's pregnant again. She's about eighty-five, at least, in raccoon years.

Thursday night - It has snowed off and on most of the afternoon. Still not warm enough for sleet or rain yet. Since this a big one coming up from the Gulf, it's just a matter of time. We hate to see ice or sleet. Terrible to drive on, bad for walking and it's just nasty and sloppy in general. But you take what you get, and just try to do the best you can with it. Ice, especially if there's much wind, means tree limbs broken, or trees and power lines down. And these days that means no power for heating, cooking, or light.

We keep kerosene and battery lamps and lanterns, and we have a bottle-gas camping cook stove. Avie bought a small supply of cooking-free food. So far, in all the years we've lived here we have never had a power outage of more than a few hours. But it can happen. Even in a big city. Being retired means you don't have to keep to someone else's schedule, in ordinary cases. We will just watch TV, the traffic on our road, and the doings of our wild friends. Two-legged, four-legged, and winged.

The Honeymooners.

Bob and Valerie called from Maui, Hawaii a while ago. They were sitting on a beach or patio watching whale's play in a cove near 'their' beach. Valerie lived in Hawaii many years ago. Her husband was an officer, stationed somewhere in the islands for a while. Sounds great if you can afford it.