Category Archives: Birds

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Salish Sea

Today in the Salish Sea, it is 7.9 to 9.1 degrees C. I do not want to swim in it, though I have a neighbor that swims in it year round.

Yesterday the sun came out, so I hurry to Chetzemoka Park and down to the beach. I walked towards Point Hudson. The brandt are there. They need time on shore and we are supposed to leave them alone, but a tourist walked out the point. I promptly sat down with my camera in the sand, because the brandt left the point and came over to me. It’s the closest I’ve been to them.

Brandt make a noise that’s half chuckle and half purr. It’s a really nice sound. They were dabbling to feed. They are geese. More here. These are migrating to Alaska nesting grounds, but they feed along the shoreline. They are smaller than Canada geese and do not show up in our parks.

Eventually I got up and moved back down the beach slowly. They did not spook. I think there was quite a bit of Brandt community flirting and arguing going on.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: cold.

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Camellia again

My camellia IS blooming, but you can see what the weather is doing. Rain, rain, rain. This morning it is currently 41 and a high of 50 is predicted. I photographed the camellia from my desk chair.

There are birds nesting in the camellia. A family of golden crowned sparrows are popping in and out of the camellia. It is about 8 feet tall and 5 feet wide and thick, so they seem pretty safe there. Yesterday there were six on the ground below the feeder. I did not know what they were when I saw the first one and had to look them up: here.

We did have a few hours of sun in the afternoon yesterday. Still cool, but I sat outside with a cup of tea. Lovely.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day.

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Chiton friends

The tide was way out when I went to the beach the other day. I don’t know if the snails and barnacles are friends or foes of the chiton or who gets eaten.

And lots of birds were very happy with the tides so far out.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: chiton.
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A timorous culture

Over 20 years ago, when I first start practicing in Washington State, I get a letter from the state. It frightens me. It says that there is a complaint to the state from a patient and that I am being investigated. I think, “What did I do?” The letter says that they will notify me when they are done investigating. I am not allowed to inquire about it until they are done.

I worry, then shrug and go on working.

Eventually I get a letter from the state saying that the investigation is complete and has been dismissed. Now I can request information. I do.

The complaint is that on a yearly exam, I had asked if a patient had guns in the house. Since too many US citizens die by gun suicide and children can find guns and accidentally kill themselves or others, I was taught to counsel regarding guns. If a person has guns in the house I am to counsel them to keep the gun locked up with the ammunition locked up separately.

I was charged in the complaint with trying to find out how many guns this person has and “reporting it to the government”. I thought, that is ridiculous, but it did change my practice. Since there are paranoid timorous gun owners, I no longer asked if they had guns. Instead I said, “If you have guns in the house, as a safety measure, keep them locked up with the ammunition locked up separately.” We are supposed to counsel people to keep addictive drugs that can overdose and kill people locked up too.

I get three replies to the gun counseling. 1. “No guns!” 2. “I am a policeman (or hunter or retired veteran or gun collector) and all guns are secured at all times.” 3. Silence. The silent ones clearly have guns and do not lock them up. Truly I have had people tell me that they sleep with a loaded gun under the pillow. Really? That is our fear based timorous violent culture. We are terrified of….. someone. People on drugs, criminals, immigrants, people of another ethnicity, invaders, alien lizards in human disguise. Whatever.

I don’t have guns. I do have a fairly high level Tai Kwan Do belt, but my main home defense is that I am a packrat. Anyone trying to sneak into my house at night would trip over a cat or cat toy or the cardboard boxes in the kitchen that Elwha loves to sleep in. My house is seriously dangerous. I need to removed the stuff on the stairs by the time I turn 65 so that when they counsel me about fall risks at my medicare wellness visit, I can say that my stairs are clear.

Well, I do have a pop gun, loaded with a cork on a string. Also an Archie McPhee potato gun. Don’t shoot it in the house because those little bits of potato are hard to find. We have a 2 inch plastic ray gun that makes great sound effects and oddly has worked for years. I have a wooden katana and various instruments of garden destruction which could be deadly. I also have a lot of beach rocks and fossils, also fairly deadly, and other things. I’d rather not use any of these ever. Ok, I chased the 4 point buck out of the front yard with the baseball bat twice because he’d jumped the back fence and was eating my roses, but he’s allowed the run of the back yard. I was really mad at him.

We have to get past the fear based timorous culture, because it is making people crazy. Who are you most afraid of? In high school my daughter states, “Well, young white males with guns are the ones most likely to come shoot us, so that is who we should be afraid of.” That’s a sad, sad statement about the US culture.

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: timorous.

Hummingbirds are not timorous at all! They guard the feeder and seem to enjoy chasing other hummingbirds and bigger birds away and aren’t afraid of me either!

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Soup of tears

It’s time to write an ending to a story.
Let go of those calling me word twister.
The ending is dark, sad, devoid of glory.
The one who named me twister was my sister.
She has been dead a decade. I still miss her
except for the calls of money gone awry.
The cousins whitewash her and call me twister;
past time for me to gently say goodbye.
The small bird of hope has sung for ten long years.
She lives even on crumbs of cruel spite.
She sings in spite of no respite from tears.
Quietly in day or night, in dark or light.
The hope bird flutters: she’s waited years.
I release her now and I drink a soup of tears.

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The Extroverted Feeler’s haircut

My son was an Extroverted Feeler when he was little. Let’s call him EF.

We move in the middle of his first grade. From Colorado to the Olympic Peninsula, arriving on December 31, 1999. Y2K. The computers do not stop the next day and the world does not implode. My mother has recurrent cancer.

He starts school. He is in a three year class in public school with two teachers. It is a first, second, third grade mixed class. There are fifty kids and he is starting in January.

His mother is bananas because she is trying to learn a whole new set of patients, phone numbers, specialists and local medical slang. His father hates moving and lies on the couch. His grandmother is not doing well. He doesn’t have any friends yet. He misses his Colorado friends and his teacher. He is gloomy.

His father takes him to get his hair cut.

They return and I nearly swallow my tongue. The EF has a triple mohawk. A central spike of hair, shaved on both sides, and then another spike on each side. He and his dad thought it up. I tell myself: it’s just hair, it’s just hair, it will grow back! Horrors.

Two weeks later the EF is cheering up a bit and has a friend. Why? Apparently the haircut garnered attention. Within a week, not only does every kid in his class know his name, but most of the parents do too. “Who is that kid with the triple mohawk?” The EF is very pleased.

He gets a triple mohawk once more. By now I am ok with it.

After that he gets normal haircuts. His grandmother dies, but he has some friends now. His mother is less bananas over time and his father knows the name of every checker at the grocery store and all the coffee shops and the golf pros.

There was a cartoon where a mother is telling her son not to stare at a person with a mohawk. “But mom, don’t they get mohawks so that people will stare?” Uh, good point!

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: mohawk.

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Keeping watch

“I’ll keep watch for you and then you keep watch for me.”

“Let’s all get cleaned up.”

“What a beautiful day!”

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: trust.

Taken at Fort Worden yesterday, with a Canon Powershot SX40 HS.