Overcoming Bloglessness


Bird Woman

I’m a bird woman now.

I’ve finally gotten my foot in the door as a volunteer at a wild bird rehab facility.   I’ve been going in on Saturday mornings, learning  how to clean the mews (stable like enclosures) and feed and care for the various raptors that, due to injury, can’t be released back into the wild.

Ferruginous hawk

Ferruginous hawk

There are eagles, hawks, falcons, osprey, kestrels and owls, owls, owls!  The owls are my favorites, with their big eyes and unique voices.  There are currently great grey and great horned owls, barn and barred owls, screech and long-eared a pygmy and a snowy owl in residence.

Great gray owl

Great gray owl

Other birds come and go too: songbirds, corvids, hummingbirds, any bird that needs help plus some that don’t.   A Fish and Game officer brought in a fledgling osprey that somebody “saved” when it should’ve been left where they found it, on the ground near the nest.  It’ll be cared for and returned to that same spot, when it’s deemed ready.



It’s hard labor and not a job for the squeamish or timid. There’s lots of stooping and bending, picking up poo and pellets, feathers, headless mice and leftover guts, plus hauling buckets of water.  It’s a good Saturday morning work-out and worth the backache to be so near these fascinating birds and learn more about them.  I’m learning their names and voices and habits and how to record what they eat and how much they leave behind.   I learn something every time I go.  I haven’t touched a bird, but I was told, if I’m still there in the spring, I may be shown how to handle a bird. There’s a carrot on a stick. That would be so freakin’ exciting!

Peregrine falcon

Peregrine falcon

My friend T said, “That’s perfect for you!”  She’s right.  It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.  I feel privileged to have the opportunity to serve the birds.


Daily Prompt via You’re a Winner!. You’ve just won $1 billion dollars in the local lottery.  How will you spend the money?

Is that enough to buy an election?  I doubt it.

A million or two should be plenty for me.  I’ll give the rest to various organizations and people and animals and birds.


Yard Saleing

Daily Prompt

Shoulda Woulda CouldaTell us about something you know you should do . . . but don’t.


I should avoid yard sales, but I didn’t.  It was on my way home, sort of, if I take the backroad.  It was a doozy of a sale.  Somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to lay all that stuff out; tables and tables of bric-a-brac and what-nots, furniture, tools, the usual stuff.   I just stopped  by as a courtesy, really.  Part of the fun is meeting people and seeing their property and animals and what kind of junk they have.


I picked up the Beanie Baby bunny first.  It was clean and still had the tag.  My collection has dwindled because Someone Special takes them home sometimes.  She’ll be surprised to see somebunny new.

Then I grabbed that shorty bungee. It’s perfect for around the henhouse. Who couldn’t use another bungee?  Very practical.

The candy dish was a no-no. I’m kind of embarrassed about that.   I just can’t don’t resist pretty little dishes.  I only bought one, which I barely have room for in the cupboard.  It’s the last one, probably.

I didn’t buy the marbles; I only asked how much (nothing was price tagged) and the yard sale guy said he’d throw them in.  Five dollars for everything.  The marbles happened to be just the exact amount needed to fill that little Ikea jar I already had.  I like the marble jar on the window sill.

The real prize was The Case.  It might have been a little suitcase, maybe for doll clothes.   I had to have it because the plastic handle sounds just like the handle on Dad’s old projector case sounded and the size and material reminded me of an old record player and it reminds me of the suitcase in which Grandma used to store her Christmas decorations.    It smells vintage, like an old book.   I’m not sure what I’ll do with it.   Maybe I’ll use it for storage until that Eureka! moment hits me and I concoct some fabulous diorama inside like the ones in the book White Oleander.


Anyway, that was the first yard sale I’d been to this year.  I went to another one today and bought nothing.  But I would’ve bought that chicken fence if that lady hadn’t got to it first.

I have another good excuse to go yard sale looking: the little owls at bird rehab like those fake Christmas trees in their mews.   I keep an eye out for those.

I do it for the birds.






Rodeo People

American Cowgirl

032 (2)
Lord, Please don’t let nobody get head-stomped or busted up.

Yikes!  I hope he’s wearing a respirator!

Oh, my stars!  That’s a cute cowboy.

I really admire these little girls and their expert riding skills.


These are the cool girls.

Now see here!  You can’t dress a child up in an adorable outfit like that, stand right in front of me in good light and expect me to not take photos.

I got the dad’s e-mail and sent him copies.

One more picture.  Can you stand it? It’s a dog!


I took 266 photos that day.   This post could be longer.


But, that’s all, rodeo fans.


Daily Prompt Publish a post in the style of a favorite author/blogger or photographer.
via The Sincerest Form of Flattery.


Dead, First Thing in the Morning

It was an alarming pre-dawn wake-up: frantic barking and yipping outside my open bedroom window, gravel scattering, something running. It sounded like a pack of wild dogs on a kill.

My husband and I let go a What the hell? and an Oh my gawd! I shot out of bed and ran through the house, trying to keep up with the sound and catch sight of whatever it was. Did they get into my chickens?

Coyotes? Wolves?

I slid open the back door and stuck my head out. It took a few seconds to figure out that the digging, scrambling, yowling sounds came from right outside the gate. They were killing something. I heard the faint mew of their prey. Were they after a skunk? A fawn? Oh, don’t let it be a fawn!

I barefooted to the fence and stood tiptoe on the low rung so I could see over. Dogs. Just two; a yellow lab and a blue heeler. They had a cat on the ground, the pale grey one I suspected was feral. The heeler pounced and dug at the cat’s side like he was digging a hole, growling and whining. The lab nipped and yapped and whined, but it was the heeler’s kill.

The cat was rag-doll helpless, wide-eyed with terror.

They were right outside the gate.   I unlocked the gate, my naked husband in the window yelling, “Suue!” I was ready to slam the gate in their faces if they came at me. I must’ve scared the hell out of them when I flung open the gate and yelled, “Get outta here!” I couldn’t believe how fast the vicious killers turned chicken and disappeared, probably headed for home, across the field.  A sudden quiet fell.

The cat was writhing in the dirt, gasping for air. Surely its back was broken and ribs, the fur on it’s side half dug away. I approached carefully, wondering what I’d do if it lived.

But it didn’t live. It was dead within seconds.

That’s what I saw outside my backdoor this morning.

Thanks for asking.

via Lookin’ Out My Back Door.


Houseguest #1

Daily Prompt Honorific
If you could pick one person to be commemorated on a day dedicated to him/her alone, who would you choose?
via Honorific.

We dedicated a week to Mother Raven who visits every summer.


We took her fishing one day. I caught two fish, right away and my husband caught nothing. We didn’t stay very long; it was hot and Mother can’t take much sun.

We were just about to leave when deer appeared.


I thought they’d stop and drink, but they swam across the river!


Mom was glad she got to see that. So was I.



We took her by the forest fire on the way home.


She and I delivered the fresh fish to the wild bird rehab (where I am now a volunteer!).  She got to see owls and eagles and hawks and falcons.


She got to see bluebirds and twin fawns, and a double lucky bat.  She got to hear a Native American flute solo. We ate out a lot and played cards.


Mom wanted to see Ed’s interesting well-house again, so we dropped by for a visit.


Now she’s gone home where she lives alone.  Her sons and neighbors look after her. I didn’t cry at the airport this time.   I didn’t cry at the flute solo either.  Must be the meds.

I miss her company; she’s a dear lady. But at the same time, I’m glad to have alone time again and relieved that the television doesn’t have to be turned up to 100.


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