I have a few antiques. A lot of collectibles and a few true antiques. A lot more junk than I need. A lot that I inherited from my mother or my father, and some that I cannot differentiate.
My mom or my dad gave me a beat up old lock box years ago. The box’s hinges broke and it was bent up and worthless. But the contents were priceless. I still have the contents.
Among the contents was a little leather bag. And inside the bag was a bit of sealing wax paraphernalia. Part of the paraphernalia was a bake-lite handle to something, I’m not certain what. It disintegrated. I think it was part of the sealing wax holder, the rest of which is metal. The holder held the sealing wax bits so the person using it would not get burned while melting the wax.
There are bits of sealing wax, a little plastic spindle and the seal itself.
My problem is: I do not know who the seal belonged to. Or what the seal is.
I *think* it is an Old English Letter C. But it could be a G.
Note: this is a mirror-image of the photo I took of the seal. What you are looking at is what it would look like *after* it was used on the wax, not what it really looks like. The letter is backwards in reality, so that when you apply the seal to the wax, it will appear correctly. So I flipped the photo.
I tried converting the photo several ways to make out the image:
A color negative.
Neon outline.
I just like that last one, it really is no help at figuring out the letter.
I’m flummoxed. The letter C makes sense: it would belong to the Cusick side of the family. G makes no sense.
What do you think the image is? I’m open for input.
By the way, the actual size of the image is around .47 centimeters. 3/16 of an inch.
As I was ducking out the door this morning, my husband said, “Oh, there’s an article on Bigfoot on the front page of The Oregonian today.”
He knows I believe. He doesn’t believe and he spends a lot more time out there in the woods, alone, than I do.
The first thing I did when I got home tonight (while I ate the lovely dinner he prepared for me: left-over chicken, potato salad and rolls) was read the article. It’s eerie enough to make you believe that there’s a Bigfoot loose in Umatilla County, on the Reservation. You can read the full article here, but I will attempt to summarize it.
Back in November, strange sounds began to emanate from a swampy area that is close enough to a housing development that residents sat up and took notice. Some say it’s a fox. Others say it could be coyotes. Most lean toward Bigfoot. The sounds can raise the hair on the back of your neck.
One woman, Colleen Chance, even recorded the noise on her cell phone. The link is in the news article and I urge you to go read about it and listen to the cell phone recording. Turn up the volume. You can hear a stream running and then the sounds, back in the background. Over and over and over.
I was so excited! I planned a blog post while chewing on my chicken.
My husband said, “You’re going to blog about this, I know.” I nodded, being as my mouth was too full to speak.
He doesn’t read my blog.
When I settled down at my computer, the first thing I did was go to the link at Oregonlive.com to listen to the cell phone recording. And it is weird. If you didn’t read the article, at least listen to the recording.
Before I wrote a blog post, however, I wanted to get everything in order. In my mind, it is important to lay out all the facts and give the reader an opportunity to make an informed decision. I’ve heard a lot of the noises coyotes can make and some of them are pretty eerie and hair-raising. So I figured I could google coyote noises last.
I searched for fox noises first.
I decided on the spot that I wasn’t going to write the exciting blog post I had envisioned.
But the more I thought about it, the more disappointed I got: why didn’t the original investigative reporter – you know, the one who got paid to write the Oregonian article – bother to google fox sounds? Several witnesses said they thought the noise could be foxes.
I believe the whole point of researching something is to, well, research it.
Several witnesses said it could be coyotes.
I’ve heard all of those coyote sounds and more. We once had a coyote that stood outside the circle of light from our camp and barked like a lost dog. Our own dog was coyote-wise and crowded the fire more. My husband and my son sneaked off into the dark and circled around to see the coyote. (Yes, we do weird things like that when we’re camping – go sneaking around in the dark sans a flashlight in hopes of seeing what is out there.)
So now I’ve done the comparisons for you. Comparisons that I think should have been done by the first reporter, and probably could have been done by any one of the witnesses simply by typing in “fox sounds” or “coyote noises” into the search engine of their choice on the Internet. It’s amazing what a little looking will get you.
I am disappointed that I can’t come here and give you the definitive “BIGFOOT IS REAL” post that I wanted to. I was even going to invite my dear friend, Jodi, on a quest into the swamp in Umatilla County.
That disappointment is tempered with this: I haven’t seen a red fox in ages. Jodi just released one on to her property. And I am certain there’s a whole family of them living in Umatilla County, mixing it up in the swamp. And that gives me peace.
What do you think? Do you think it still could be Bigfoot? Or a cougar in heat? Or are you like me, and you find the red fox sounds eerily similar to the cell phone recording?
(I do not classify this as a hoax. I truly believe the people interviewed are believers in something out there just as I am. I am not making fun of them in any way. I just made a comparison and found myself disappointed in the outcome. That is all.)
I sometimes wonder what my neighbors think when they drive or walk by and I have either the binoculars to my eyes or a camera with a telescopic lens poking out between the slats of the Venetian Blinds. I did warn the people who live directly across the street from me that, no, I am not spying on anyone. I’m bird-watching.
The frigid weather we’ve been having has made for good bird-watching: I provide sustenance in the form of black oil sunflower seeds, Niger thistle, suet laced with nuts and insect parts, and home-made hummingbird nectar. The birds pay me back by coming in flocks.
Yesterday, I was quite concerned about the hummingbirds as both feeders had iced up. One was frozen solid and I brought that one into the house to thaw, replacing it with the third hummingbird feeder that was sitting on the kitchen counter. When it thawed, I put it out and brought in the last feeder to thaw. I keep rotating them to keep thawed nectar out there.
It is a good thing, too: when I hauled all the groceries into the house (several trips in and out), I was greeted by some very snippy Anna’s Hummingbirds. Four of them, to be exact. Three hid in the rhododendron and one buzzed in the air over my head. The male could be heard chittering at me. I was disturbing their feeding frenzy and they were letting me know.
And today when I switched out a frozen feeder with a thawed one, a female Anna’s buzzed thoughtfully in the air beside me, unsure whether she should wait until I actually hung the feeder or if she could land on it while I was carrying it. She opted to wait.
Here she is, thinking about life. Or maybe about where she’ll build her 2013 nest.
The Anna’s male looks like he has a black head and chin, but those feathers really are red and iridescent.
Really, they are. I promise.
Ah! Just a little bit of movement and light and you can see a hint of color!
“Hey! Are you taking my photograph? Paparazzi!
Can Hummingbirds look angry?
A lot of birds visited the other feeders: Varied Thrush, Downy Woodpecker, the different chickadees, 28 Bushtits (I took a photograph and counted them – it was too blurry to be kept and I deleted it, but I got an accurate count), a flock of dark-eyed Juncos…
Speaking of Juncos, I was visited by a most unusual one today. Most of ours are actually the sub-species, Oregon Junco, but they flock together: Slate colored, Oregon and Dark-eyed. The field guides lump them together.
What all of them have in common is this: they have no white feathers on their upper parts or their crown. Except for this guy, who apparently has some sort of Albinism gene in his make-up. Her make-up? Very unusual.
I am not a fan of the European Starling, but with the frigid temps and the freezing fog that has kept us below freezing even in the day time, I can’t begrudge the clever birds a little bit of food. This particular one is already showing his summer colors: iridescent black/blue/green plumage.
He was also a bit of a show-off.
Steller’s Jay rarely comes into my feeding area, but it must be cold enough to make them humble. Four of them landed in the yard together and made a great show of looking for something besides black-oil sunflower seed. One even uncovered an acorn a squirrel must have dropped in my yard.
I think of Steller’s Jays as the Royalty of the Corvid Family. They are in the same family as crows, which explains why they are so clever. Crows are the Family geniuses, Ravens are the Family tricksters, and Jays are the various royalty.
Now I have to pick a favorite of today’s photos to add to my 2013 Photo 365 project. That’s a difficult choice!
That was a silly, rambling post last night. I needed to write, so I followed the words along the screen and let them dictate the content of the blog. It is not the best way to write, but when you are faced with Writer’s Block, it sometimes helps to wake up the creative muse.
I have a number of photos to share with the Blogging World, specifically those of you who love birds as much as (or more than) I do.
But first…
I took several photos of dog prints on the frosty deck.
I just had to share that.
The little female ruby-crowned Kinglet has been hanging around again this winter.
I do not know why there is not a male Ruby-crowned Kinglet hanging around, or why they are not summer feeders. Still, this is the second winter she has made it a point to hang out in our yard.
I would like to interrupt this blog with an announcement: I do not know a lot about birds. People come to me to ask “What bird is that?” all the time. I look them up and make and educated guess.
I toggle between Peterson’s Field Guide (in print form) and Cornell University Ornithology Lab (online). And I pay a lot of attention to the details.
I still got the Kinglet wrong last winter. I thought she was a vireo based on the white ring around her eye, but I submitted a photo of her to Cornell Lab and they came back with the definitive answer: female Ruby Crowned Kinglet.
These birds crack me up. Posers!
They are Lesser Goldfinches. I suppose that means they aren’t quite American Goldfinches, commonly known as “canaries” by the non-schooled.
Canaries are little yellow birds indigenous to (hold onto your chair) the Canary Islands. They are commonly sold as pets. They are all yellow.
American Goldfinches are striking yellow-and-black birds indigenous to… Oh, you guessed. The Americas.
Lesser Goldfinches often flock with American Goldfinches. They do not have low self-esteem. They consider the title “Lesser” to be a medallion of distinction. They are not the same as American Goldfinches and they know it.
I really don’t have much to say these days. I feel a little like parched ground waiting for the rain (which is a funny thing to say since Oregon just had the fourth-wettest year on record and I really should feel half-drowned). I’m tired, but it isn’t just a physical tiredness. It’s a tiredness of the heart and of the muses. I have creative thoughts, but I haven’t had the energy to put them into existence. By the time I get home from my work day, my brain just wants to shut off.
I figure I work 8 hours a day. Add an hour for lunch and that’s nine hours. Add an hour on either end of my day for the commute, and that’s 11 hours. Some days more, some days a little less. The commute is stressful. My job uses a part of my brain and personality that is not my greatest strength: math, and a lot of it.
So, for 8 hours a day, I operate on the Left-Brain. Then I have to drive which is probably a Left-Brain operation because in order to drive safely and wisely, you have to actually think critically: how much room should I leave between myself and the other cars? Do I have room to make a lane change? How fast is the car on my left shoulder coming and can I change lanes in front of him safely or should I wait? (not to mention: Why do people get on the Freeway if they can’t drive the speed limit? If it says the speed limit is 65 and there are no external complications, then drive the freaking speed limit! Don’t drive 55!)
Sorry, A little road rage spilled over into my blog.
A little? You want road rage? How about drivers in silver cars who think that the rule about turning on headlights in rain/fog/dusk light does not apply to them? SILVER cars that blend in with the silver rain/fog/dusk. When I used to drive an F-250 Super-cab, those people turned their headlights on in a hurry when I needed to make a lane change and I couldn’t see them. Nothing like having a really big truck turn on a blinker that says “I’m coming over!” to wake them up.
Oh, speaking of blinkers. How about those people I call “drifters”? They usually drive something huge, like a Yukon or an Expedition, but sometimes they come in very small packages, like a KIA Optima. You get the first hint that they’re making a lane change when they sort of “drift” toward the line between lanes. Before you know it, they have “drifted” into your lane. No turn signal (what would be the use of that, I ask you? It’s so inconveniently located ON YOUR STEERING COLUMN where you can flip it on with a finger and never lose control of your car.).
Everyone makes a mistake or two when driving, but you can spot the habitual offenders over the “ooops! I really did not see you!” drivers. First, they show no remorse.
There are the habitual tail-gaters. They really can’t figure out why you keep suddenly braking in front of them. Oh, forget that: they’re texting! See the damn phone in their hand? or, if you are behind them: their brake lights keep going on. Um, hey: you wouldn’t have to keep tapping your brakes if you’d BACK OFF a little. Like give the person in front of you a couple seconds? A car length for every ten miles an hour?
Wait, let’s not overdo that. Ever get stuck behind someone who is so terrified of being a tail-gater that he drives a half mile behind traffic and about five miles under the speed limit? Worse, have one in both lanes, so you cannot get around either one but you can see the taillights of traffic traveling at the speed limit in front of you fading into the distance?
The merge-at-the-last-second people. They know their exit is coming up, but they’re so focused on getting ahead of everyone else by just one-more-car that they nearly cause a wreck when they suddenly veer to the right to catch the exit, in that little space between Tailgater#2 and Tailgater #1. Everyone brakes and the bubble of braking flows back for miles until no one knows why they are braking suddenly.
I could go on. This is my brain on work. I get in my car and concentrate for the nearly 1-hour commute north, hoping to avoid a collision with someone who is not paying attention and who doesn’t have a health fear of a collision while swearing at the drivers who putter along at 55 in a 65mph zone. Then I work for four hours on math problems which I can do, but which are not the greatest use of my talents.
I take an hour for lunch. I read a book, work a crossword puzzle, meditate or take a nap. Anything to relax my mind and utilize my natural talents.
Then four hours of more math and linear thinking. And a longer commute home because, somehow, that 22 miles has gotten longer at 5PM. And more dangerous.
By the time I get home, my right-brained self is totally drained and exhausted. I can’t think.
We’re in a freezing weather pattern, with clear skies, arctic air flow, and freezing fog. It’s January, and the conditions are to be expected, but a lovely hoar frost is still a rare visual treat. We don’t usually sink below the freezing mark and stay there for very many days. It happens, and every time it happens, I am struck with awe.
Of course, the frost here pales in comparison to some places I have lived. We don’t get the deep hoar frost that happens after weeks of sub-zero temps and no sunshine. And I remember rather vividly the winter of 1978-1979 in Eastern Oregon, when the freeze went so deep, the water mains around town froze.
For me, the freeze is a chance to run around the yard and hunt for the perfect snapshot of frost-laced Something. Like the Oregon Grape with its red stems.
Spider webs, for instance.
And Garden Art. The wire stands out against the background when Jack Frost adds his brush.Waiting for summer.Veins in leaves seem more vivid.Frost outlines objects.Don’s Bonsai trees take on a different life when they are covered in frost. I should offer to move them into the garage. Just thought of that. Guess I will do that tomorrow. Don can’t lift anything over 15 pounds for a few weeks, so it will be up to me to save the Bonsai. But it is pretty in frost!This was my favorite photo today: the fern, delicately outlined in white, reaching out to the lens.
I plopped down into my squeaky computer chair with the idea that I would write a pithy post tonight. But I noticed something funny on the monitor scree, a funny little rotating light.
I immediately put both hands over both eyes and closed my eyes tight. Yup: funny little light is still there and growing in size. I haven’t lost too much of my vision yet, but I will soon be unable to see peripherally to the left or right (I think it will be to the right as the migraine seems to be in the right eye).
If I close my eyes and concentrate on the lights, I see an image that reminds me of carnival lights: moving, neon, and geometric in shape. It grows as the migraine grows in intensity, but there is no pain associated with it. It will last between 30 and 45 minutes, and then it will fade completely away. If I am unlucky, a headache will follow in about 2 days, but I rarely get the actual head-splitting migraine pain, so I am counting on being lucky.
The first time I experienced one of these, I was about 20 years old. Scared me to death. I thought I was going blind or insane. I made an immediate appointment with an eye doctor who kindly explained the ocular migraine to me in layman’s terms. It was 1976 and he told me that the blood vessels around my ocular nerve were tightening, a phenomena that caused me to see little “halo” lights.
That is not how they describe an ocular migraine in the 21st Century. I do know that If I catch it early enough, taking a single aspirin will stop it in its tracks. I know how long one lasts. I know I cannot drive when I have one (I really do lose the peripheral vision out of whichever eye the migraine is occurring in.
Right now, it is a reverse – C shape and mostly yellow and white, but the geometric shapes are constantly moving and flickering like the old neon lights of my youth. I am having a more difficult time typing as I am missing much of my vision.
This site (AllAboutVision) has the best explanation of what is happening in my eye, and it includes a little graphic that gives you an idea of what an ocular migraine looks like (in case you have never experienced one). Take that graphic and make the lights moving and you have what I see.
Other people describe it differently.
It is full blown now. I have angry red flashing lights, calming blue triangles, and the constant yellow-and-white flashing lights. I cannot see anything in the right area where the lights are: about 6 o’clock and up to the middle of my eye, over to 5 o’clock.
There is no rhyme or reason to an ocular migraine. They just happen, usually in clusters. And sometimes, I don’t have one for a year or so. If one happens at work, I stop what I am doing a cover my eyes. It’s all I can do.
But if one happens at home, I like to stop and just watch it. It’s like a built-in light show. The lights fluctuate, move around, flash. The shapes change, but they are always geometric in form, although the entire effect is semi-circular. Sometimes I just sit and try to see what I cannot see. The lamp before me or the calendar on the wall, the glass to my right.
They don’t scare me any more. I’ve been having them for 36 years now and I’m somewhat used to them, although the timing is somewhat unnerving (especially if they happen when I need to be driving and I find myself having to wait to drive somewhere, like home from work). I just thank my lucky stars that I rarely get the true migraine that can follow one of these episodes.
This one is almost over. The lights are faded and the blank spot is getting smaller.
I’ll proof this and then post it – would you mind sharing with me if you also suffer ocular migraines and describe what you see when you have one?
One week of 2013, that is, and it isn’t even a complete week, just the first 5 days that are down. We still have 359 to go.
It’s been cold and frosty here since just before the New Year.
I took a bunch of photos one day, thinking I would get a chance to blog and post them, but it didn’t happen. This was the only good one, anyway: the dog’s wading pool full of oak and Hawthorne leaves, encased in ice.
I worked exactly one day of 2013 so far.
Thursday, we played a little game of role reversal: I drove my husband to the hospital so he could have a double hernia repaired. It was strange being the spouse waiting instead of the patient.
The surgery went well and he was released around 1:30PM, home by 2:00. He’s been very dopey since, and he moves a little like Tim Conway. He said that and when I replied, “yes, you do look a little like Tim Conway, he replied, “Stop that! It hurts to laugh.”
If you don’t know who Tim Conway is, I’m sorry.
Friday, I was a good nurse. It is not my forte. But my dh is a pretty un-demanding patient.
Friday, I finally got a diagnosis for my ailments, too. I am digressing here and I am making this All About Me by inserting this, but then, again, it’s the whole timeline of 2013. I do not have Fibromyalgia or Lupus: I am severely Vitamin D deficient and that (in and of itself) can cause all the symptoms I have been experiencing. I immediately googled it and discovered that one of the diseases associated with Vitamin D deficiency is rickets.
I learned about rickets in the 6th Grade when we studied Vasco de Gama and all the “great” Italian and Spanish explorers of the 14th and 15th Centuries. I remember thinking that rickets was possibly the worst way to get sick, ever, and I lived in mortal fear of setting sail across the Bounding Main and coming down with rickets. It is one reason I steer clear of taking a trip on a cruise ship on any wide open sea or ocean. You could end up with rickets.
Or you could fall over board and get eaten by a shark. It’s that simple.
Not to be dramatic or anything, but severe leg cramps combined with general fatigue and muscle weakness is a sign of rickets. All my symptoms rolled into one great big ball of diagnosis, marketed under “Vitamin D Deficiency.”
I’ve always complained that the Willamette Valley is too overcast for me. Suddenly, the phrase, “I need more sunshine” takes on new (and relevant) meaning. I need more sunshine.
I’m on a Vitamin D2 regimen of 50,000 units per week for 12 weeks. My Internet friends tell me I should take Vitamin D3 instead and I googled that (Vitamin D2 vs. Vitamin D3). I think my friends are right, but I’ll go along with the doctor for now. In 12 weeks, I’ll explain my plan of taking Vit. D3 to him. But first, I just want to feel better. Soon.
Today was a repeat of yesterday, except my husband was moving a little faster. No running marathons, but a big improvement over yesterday. He was a little more like Tim Conway, the aging fireman.
The dogs have been good, considering they do not understand what is going on. Murphy wants to climb onto Don’s lap and doesn’t understand that he is not allowed. Harvey wants to go run a marathon and doesn’t understand why I don’t want to.
I could actually feel Harvey’s ribs this weekend. There’s still a layer of fat over them, but there’s hope. He can lose weight (that would be Resolution #3).
My husband appreciates the prayers and good thoughts of everyone, especially those who are praying I do not kill his dog. Murphy and I have a long history of vying for Alpha Dog position, and with Don stuck in the recliner and unable to play referee, it’s wide open as to which one of us will win: the 90# dog or the <ahem> slightly overweight wife. The <ahem> 45 pounds I have on Murphy don’t count toward much: his are muscle and mine are fat. However, I am more determined than he is. So far, I am winning.
Here’s Don on Day One:
And on Saturday:
(If you don’t pee your pants watching these, there’s something wrong with you. Even Harvey Korman couldn’t keep a straight face to Tim Conway’s antics.)
And that’s just the first five days without the birdwatching thrown in. I’ll post about birds tomorrow.
I refuse to look back at 2012. I have not given much thought into looking forward at 2013, either.
Here’s my New Year’s Resolutions (in no particular order of importance):
1. Take more photos and get better at photography.
2. Build at least 3 Faerie Houses (and consequently move toward actually selling them).
3. Help Harvey lose 10 pounds. I could lose 10 pounds, too, but Harvey needs to more than I do.
4. Create 3 Magic Wands. I should create more, but 3 seems like a magical number, so I will go with it. Besides, I have 3 in the works.
5. Clean out the garage and the shed. What do you mean that’s not a resolution? It’s a goal, isn’t it? And a very over-due project. I resolve to actually getting it done this year.
6.Declutter. I seriously need to declutter. I am going to have to part with rocks. And old jars. Old bottles. Horse tack that I have no horse to attach it to.
7. Find a church I like and start attending. This is the hardest resolution as I am terminally soured on the “Church” and it is very difficult to resolve to go to church when one’s spouse does not actually tag along, even if he is only pretending to be interested. And notice I did not say “volunteer” at said church. I am not volunteering, at least not as of this moment in 2013. BTDT and have the spiritual scars. But it costs me nothing to attend a church, even if all I do is warm a pew.
8. Fund better charities. Actually, I started that one already. I crossed some charities off of my giving list this year, like World Wildlife Fund. They sent me goodies and mailings and free this and free that all 2012. Seems to me that they could be using their money to save animals, not send out mailers and freebies. I don’t want their freebies: I want them to put their money where their mouth is.
I gave to OPB, Folkalley, Nature Conservancy, Medical Teams International and the American Red Cross. And Goodwill, but that was in the form of cast-offs and I probably purchased an equal amount of cast-offs from Goodwill.
9. Start drawing again. I sort of put drawing and painting off the past two years. I need to get back in the saddle again.
10. Find a suitable place to volunteer at for one day of every month on my boss’ dollar. My employer will pay me 8-hours wages to volunteer and I have not (yet) taken steps to take advantage of that incredibly generous offer. I am considering the local library or finding a nearby horse rescue operation (and by nearby, I mean within 5 miles of my home). I know where one horse rescue operation is (funded by the company I work for) but it is in Washington State and I am not willing to drive that far. I drive nearly that far twice a day every work day and I hate it.
Love horses, but hate traffic.
So there you have them: things I can commit to for 2013.
2013 also holds in promise a trip to Alaska sometime. My newest grandchild is due in April (a girl) and we hope to go north to meet the newest little one. I hate that my kids are spread out so far from me now: south to Colorado or North to Alaska!
I also have to make a trip to Reno to pick up my inheritance which is sitting in a warehouse still. Which is why resolution #6 is important. I need to declutter in order to clutter.
What are your resolutions? Or are you one of those folks who refuse to resolve? Hey, failure never stopped me. Heck, that’s what it’s all about: seeing how soon you can fail. I give myself six months this year.
It has been a day! I took the bird feeder down yesterday and bleached all the parts. I left the thistle feeder and the suet up because the Pine Siskins don’t get into those two feeders and there doesn’t seem to be a problem with the American Goldfinches or the many birds that have figured out how to access the suet feeders.
I put out suet that has black sunflower seeds and insects (meal worms) embedded in it. I purchase it at Backyard Bird Shop and it is made in Portland. The birds *love* it. So does Harvey, but that is another story.
OK, twist my arm. Harvey tends to be on the overweight side. I try to keep from feeding him too many treats and certainly do not offer him much food between meals. But he is still an overweight English Setter. Actually, I think he is a Llewellen Setter but since I have no proof of lineage, it is all speculation. You can google the breeds and I can promise that Llewellans look just like Harvey. Anyway, Harvey found the suet once and pulled it off of the counter and bit into three cakes, eating insects, suet and all. BAD Harvey.
No wonder he is fat.
Anyway, I digress. I am participating in Project Feeder Watch and I watched my feeders again this weekend, despite the fact that the sunflower feeder was missing. Most of our “regular” birds came by, proving that the sunflower feeder is not the only draw. Even the Eastern Fox Squirrels adjusted to the suet and thistle feeders, but they did look a little confused when they climbed the tree and discovered there was no black oil sunflower.
The Pine Siskins did not come. I am sad, but relieved. We will put the feeder back up on New Years’ Day. I will have probably lost the Siskins, but the threat of salmonella will be gone. I can’t have salmonella infect the Band-tailed pigeons or any of my other regulars.
All that to bring you to this. The Western Scrub Jay.
Jaci Dawn 