Je m’excuse. It’s been quite a week around here and I have given up looking for the blog which I wrote last week, intending to post it on Monday as per our deal. As you may have noticed, it did not appear. Nor have I had any luck at all in finding in in the jungle which passes for my computer “desktop.” It seems to have returned to the sky-web, where it floats, plaintively calling out for me. Oh, well. Let’s try again.
I wrote about being preoccupied with two things a week ago. One was the 120 k windstorm which lashed us for hours on Friday. As before (barely a month ago), we were largely spared by the gusts which took down trees all around us. One set of neighbours lost four old trees - one a blue spruce which snapped off six feet up. The whole city is strewn with branches and the street has vibrated with chain saws for days. The only victim at our house was a Manitoba maple which had already been consigned to the “benign neglect” category for banding, as it is considered an unwelcome invasive species. My prairie nose is a bit out of joint but I’m managing.
The two concerns collided when at the height of the storm I watched a large red-tail battle its way over our house, being almost buffeted into the upstairs window ledge. I raced upstairs but the little dove family was fine, barely feeling a breeze (proving that choosing the right home is critical to successfully raising a family. As they say, “Location, Location, Location!). The hawk was probably preoccupied with returning home to feed its own babes.
At five days old, the chicks were growing by leaps and bounds - systematically working on their pin feathers and stopping only to stick their heads down their parent’s beak to glug regurgitated “pigeon milk.” Now it makes sense to me that doves have only one or two chicks at a time. There is barely enough space (beak-wise) for two! I would happily post the little video but can't manage it. Help always welcome.
All in all, The Big Bad Wolf did his best to blow our house down. The Little Red Hen was right but this little piggy thinks we all ducked a disaster. Poor Theodore got the worst of it. Refusing to venture out the front door, he had to hold it for about five hours. Later that night I found a note under the pillow, asking for indoor facilities. I didn't dignify that with a response. Everyone knows he's too short to flush.
Note to self: paint another version of “On the Ledge” 2, this time smoothing the parent with a fan brush and reserving texture for the nest and those spiky punk chicks.
It’s a new show every day around here.
I wrote about being preoccupied with two things a week ago. One was the 120 k windstorm which lashed us for hours on Friday. As before (barely a month ago), we were largely spared by the gusts which took down trees all around us. One set of neighbours lost four old trees - one a blue spruce which snapped off six feet up. The whole city is strewn with branches and the street has vibrated with chain saws for days. The only victim at our house was a Manitoba maple which had already been consigned to the “benign neglect” category for banding, as it is considered an unwelcome invasive species. My prairie nose is a bit out of joint but I’m managing.
The two concerns collided when at the height of the storm I watched a large red-tail battle its way over our house, being almost buffeted into the upstairs window ledge. I raced upstairs but the little dove family was fine, barely feeling a breeze (proving that choosing the right home is critical to successfully raising a family. As they say, “Location, Location, Location!). The hawk was probably preoccupied with returning home to feed its own babes.
At five days old, the chicks were growing by leaps and bounds - systematically working on their pin feathers and stopping only to stick their heads down their parent’s beak to glug regurgitated “pigeon milk.” Now it makes sense to me that doves have only one or two chicks at a time. There is barely enough space (beak-wise) for two! I would happily post the little video but can't manage it. Help always welcome.
All in all, The Big Bad Wolf did his best to blow our house down. The Little Red Hen was right but this little piggy thinks we all ducked a disaster. Poor Theodore got the worst of it. Refusing to venture out the front door, he had to hold it for about five hours. Later that night I found a note under the pillow, asking for indoor facilities. I didn't dignify that with a response. Everyone knows he's too short to flush.
Note to self: paint another version of “On the Ledge” 2, this time smoothing the parent with a fan brush and reserving texture for the nest and those spiky punk chicks.
It’s a new show every day around here.
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