The Birds

My backyard has turned into something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Richard can't keep the bird feeders filled. Hundreds of blackbirds swarm the feeders each day. One bird hangs and shakes it so seed gets spread all over the ground. The rest then eat their fill. Once that group is finished a new one flies in.

This pattern repeats itself over and over again, until Sam and Sally show up. The black birds scatter when the pair of large cranes make their appearance. But Sam and Sally are wearing out their welcome. They've lost any fear of humans. Or Ginger for that matter. Now they walk right up to the screen and stand in the planting beds. And stare. And stare. And stare. Ginger runs onto the patio and goes nose to beak with them with only the screen to protect her. She barks her fool head off and Sam and Sally could care less. They just stare at her. I think it's driving Ginger crazy too.

It's getting kind of creepy if you ask me. As soon as I throw some corn their way, they eat and then make their way to the lake for a bath. When it's time for the next meal, they climb up the bank and begin the stare down again.

When are they going to go back to Nebraska? After looking at the winter weather report, I don't think it'll be anytime soon. Stop feeding them you say? Tell that to Dr. Doolittle.

There's No Place Like Home

This is Florida so we expect the snowbirds to arrive this time each year. We just didn't expect them to move in with us.

Sam and Sally Crane have moved in and made themselves comfortable in the backyard. Remember my last post was about Richard feeding a pair of sand hill cranes. Well it seems they like the menu and have decided to stay. I named them Sam and Sally so we could be on a first name basis.

They no longer squawk to announce their arrival each day. They simply walk up to the screen and lay down. If they see either Richard or me pass in front of the window, Sam pops up followed by Sally. If we don't come out, they sit back down and wait. The Crane's seem to be quite patient.

"Come quick! Look!" shouted Richard yesterday afternoon.
Sam was on top of Sally having his way with her. When he finished, they got cozy on the lawn again.

Mr. and Mrs. Crane have decided they like the neighborhood. With a little one on the way, they felt the need to settle down and take advantage of that first time homebuyer credit from the government. Their sofa and large screen TV should show up any day now. I'm sure they'll call us when they want their pizza delivered.

Ah! There's no place like home.

Dr. Doolittle Lives Here

Richard's made some new friends. Two Sand Hill cranes are now living in our backyard. According to Wikipedia, Sand Hill cranes migrate here in winter from Nebraska. They mate for life and therefore are always in pairs. Sometimes I see three together but that must be a child that hasn't been married off yet. The cranes stand four to five feet tall with long spindly legs, fluffy gray feathers and a distinctive red and white face. The birds have little fear of humans, or Richard. Me, they're not so sure.
"God will reward us for taking care of his animals," as Richard threw the dried corn and bird seed in the pair's direction.
"If you feed them, they'll never leave." I admonish.
The larger male eats first while the female hangs back. I threw some food toward her but she wouldn't touch it until he finished.
I yelled at him. "She needs to eat too, you know!" They backed away from this strange, mean, human.
Sand Hill cranes have a very loud bird call. Usually we can hear them coming long before we see them. They also have very specific mealtimes. At precisely 10:30am the squawking starts. It stops the minute Richard appears. They return again at 5 pm. Richard drops everything to run outside at their first call. He holds the corn in his hand while they gently take it from him.
After dining on their gourmet meal, the couple bathes on the edge of the lake. Wings spread, they dance together, hopping and splashing in the water. That must be why they can mate for life. They make sure they still have date night. I must admit it's a beautiful sight. It's our reward.
Dr. Doolitle is real and he lives here with me.

On the Cover of Vogue

As you probably know by now, Florida has been in the grips of a cold snap for the past two weeks. I no longer think that 'snap' is the appropriate word for it. I've lived here for thirty years and have never experienced this kind of cold. We dug out the hats, gloves and scarves from the back of the closet. They've gotten more use lately than since we bought them for to use for some exotic trip to a cold weather country we were taking.
Ginger doesn't typically travel with us so there wasn't any dog sized gear hidden away for her. I went to the store and bought her a coat. A red fleecy one to compliment her chocolate brown coloring. I never imagined Ginger as a prissy kind of girl until the day she first wore her new coat.
I slipped it over her head and fastened it around her belly. She smiled. It matched her red collar and leash. She knew she looked stunning and couldn't wait to go outside to strut her stuff. Head held high she pranced down the street as if to say "Look at me!"
And look they did. Everyone we encountered commented on her lovely red coat.
The compliments went to her head. When we got home, back inside where it's warm, I tried to take off her coat.
"Grrrrr."
"Don't you growl at me." I scolded. Ginger raced off across the room.
I grabbed her and yanked the garment over her head.
"Grrrrr." She got a piece in her mouth and shook her head madly.
"Give that to me." I chased her.
When I finally got the coat from her, I hid it in the closet. She stood outside the door staring. I felt so guilty I put it back on her to wear around the house. All dressed up, she crawled into her spot and went to sleep.
She always gets excited when I say the word 'walk' but these days it's even more exciting to put on her coat. She sits perfectly still in order to be dressed.
I don't think she's cold, she just wants to be ready for her photo shoot for Vogue. I wonder what she'll do when I buy her some boots to match.

Ginger Gets A Job

Finally. One of us has a job. It's Ginger!
Every afternoon Richard and Ginger head off for their walk. They hang around the fringes of the golf course looking for balls. There's alot of competition out there. One guy comes by in his golf cart with two Springer Spaniels hoping to beat out little Ginger. But he's no match for my fearless duo on foot.
She may be little but she's got the scent of golf balls committed to memory. The past two days in a row, Richard arrived home with his pockets bulging. Twenty balls the first day and twenty-one the second. He emptied his pockets one by one throwing the balls in the sink.
"Gee. She's getting the ones that have been out there awhile, isn't she?" as I counted them. Dirt and grass caked the balls. Most of them were barely even white anymore.
"She sticks her nose way down in the brush. You should see that tail wag when she comes up with one." Richard praised her again while throwing five biscuits on the floor as her reward. "You're a keeper, Ginger."
"Thanks Ginger for keeping us out of the poor house. How much do you think we can sell these for?" I sat down at the computer and started searching Ebay for used golf balls. Prices varied but at $5 or $10 a dozen, I think she's on to something.
"You've got a new job, Ginger. Good for you!" She smiled her toothy smile and wagged her tail. At least one of us now has a job. Things may be looking up in 2010 after all.