Run To The Hills

I hadn't been to the Lake Tahoe area in around three decades and Jeanine had never been, so we arranged a quick getaway last week, staying in a contactless hotel in South Lake Tahoe. In this instance, "contactless" meant that all information was e-mailed and texted to us, and the room key was a code on a keypad. We were walking distance from the lake and from Van Sickle Bi-State Park, which promised to have some interesting birds, not to mention the novelty of being able to walk into Nevada while roaming the park.

Nashville Warbler

Mountain Chickadees

Wilson's Warbler

California/Nevada Border within Van Sickle Bi-state Park

The drive there was uneventful and relatively free of traffic, which is one of the benefits of starting out during the noon hour on a weekday, and the check-in was as simple as checking my texts. Next, we walked to the park to look around. Jeanine has been amusing herself with Pokémon Go, which is strangely similar to birding, and doing a series of Flat Stanley-esque photographs involving a Star Wars scout trooper toy (named Chuck) that she found in a parking lot awhile back and some other action figure whose identity I forget (named Bruce) purchased at a thrift shop. A calendar of their exploits may be forthcoming. In short, our current hobbies are compatible.

Hermit Warbler

Nashville Warbler

Williamson's Sapsucker

We went to Van Sickle Bi-State Park the first afternoon and then again the first morning in Lake Tahoe. There were lots of Mountain Chickadees and various warblers dancing around in the treetops, occasionally dipping down closer to tease me as I struggled to photograph them. The last bird we saw there was a Williamson's Sapsucker, which came quick on the heels of a Red-breasted Sapsucker. The high point for me was probably the warblers. The first one I saw was a MacGillivray's Warbler, followed later by Nashville, Yellow-rumped, Wilson's, and Hermit Warblers. They were all quite busy doing warbler stuff, which is to be expected. 

Mountain Chickadee

White-headed Woodpecker

Jeanine at Tahoe Marsh

The first morning we ate at Driftwood Cafe, which was tasty and filling. I can't now remember exactly what I ordered, but it involved eggs. Jeanine and I shared our breakfasts, which took away some of the burden of having to choose.

Western Wood-pewee

Steller's Jay

Vikingsholm

Emerald Bay

Thus fortified, we spent the day relying on eBird and Atlas Obscura to decide where to visit. The one nearby Atlas Obscura location that looked worthwhile was Vikingsholm. If you guessed "viking home" then congratulations, although all of the literature calls it a castle. Vikingsholm was built in 1928 on the shore of Emerald Bay (now part of Emerald Bay State Park) by Lora Josephine Knight who wanted a summer home that reminded her of the fjords she'd visited in Norway. Getting there meant grabbing the last remaining parking place in the small lot on Highway 89 and walking down a mile-long pathway (actually the old driveway leading to the property) and buying tickets for a guided tour. It was an interesting house and the surrounding area is beautiful.

Olive-sided Flycatcher

Brewer's Sparrow

Mountain Gartersnake

Afterward, we headed back the way we came and then over the border into Nevada. At Lam Watah Nature Trail, I saw my first lifer of the trip, a Brewer's Sparrow, who in typical sparrow fashion flew off and disappeared into the ground cover, but not before I got a couple of acceptable photos. A little later we came across a gartersnake on the pathway, which proved to be a Mountain Gartersnake, which was new to me as well. 

The weirdest part of this stop was the guy taking his log for a walk. He had a dog too, so I guess in actuality he was taking both his log and his dog for a walk. We saw him at distance carrying a good-sized log over his shoulder like he was marching off to battle with it. Later, when he passed us, he commented on the size of my camera lens, and even later, I lamented that I passed up the opportunity to reply by making a crack about his log. It's probably just as well that I didn't. There is something about a guy carrying a large log with no obvious destination in sight that arouses my suspicions.

 

The next day we floundered about looking for somewhere different to have breakfast until a wrong turn (actually, we possibly overshot a breakfast place I'd noticed the day before) revealed a bagel place, so we had bagel concoctions, and I got a big, black coffee which hit the spot the way coffee nearly always does. We intended to eat our breakfast on the beach but the section of beach we arrived at required some sort of entrance fee (thanks, capitalism) so we ate in the car and looked through the fence at the water.

Then, we drove around the Nevada side of the lake on our way to the must-visit Donnor Party Picnic Area. We did have a picnic of sorts, but most of our time there was taken up by following the small interpretive trail and looking at wildlife. 

Our final major stop of the trip was the Sagehen Creek Trail, just up the road. Being a single-track trail along a creek, it lived up to its name. It was now early afternoon, so the birds had settled down a bit and, other than a trio of Red Crossbills who flew over as we got out of the car and a silent Townsend's Solitaire, the first part of the trek was virtually birdless. The habitat was great though, with banks of Willows on the creek side and mixed woodland on the other. 

Green-tailed Towhee

People kept passing us with their dogs, which is always a bit annoying when you're trying to look for birds, but then I remembered that the creek ended at a reservoir of some sort, so it made sense. The trailhead had been an unassuming dirt pullout which probably means only locals (and people following eBird directions) use it much. We were probably the only non-locals. 

Clark's Nutcracker

About halfway along, there was a sudden flurry of activity featuring warblers and chickadees, and sometime after that, I heard a weird call (one I'd forgotten from last year, apparently) and then Jeanine spotted a Clark's Nutcracker in the tree above us. 

Somewhere in there, a conversation with some passersby revealed that we had about a half an hour of walking to go before we got to the reservoir (Stampede reservoir, I later figured out), so we picked up our pace a bit. 

Mountain Bluebird

The reservoir proved to be a lonely place, at least once the various dog people vanished back up the trail. That said, by the time we got there, I think there was just one other person there, and I'm not sure if there was an accompanying dog. The visible birds were out near the water, including my first Mountain Bluebirds of the year, and my first ever Gray Flycatcher (determined after the fact when I got a chance to look at my photos). There were some juvenile American Robins, another Clark's Nutcracker, a noisy family of Western Wood-pewees, and a briefly seen pair of Red Crossbills, not to mention a bunch of distant waterfowl and a short visit by an American Kestrel.

Gray Flycatcher

Western Wood-pewees

The walk back was uneventful, and by the time we reached the car, the afternoon had leaked away, and shadows were reaching toward the east.

We made a trio of brief stops, first at Emigrant Gap, then at a rest stop, both so I could tick another county off on eBird, and finally at a deli for some much-needed food. Our "picnic" at the Donnor Party Picnic Area had been more like a snack break, so dinner was welcome. My last photo of the trip was a Common Sagebrush Lizard. This may or may not be the first time I've seen one of those.

A week after we got back, I-80 was closed down near Emigrant Gap due to a Tesla semi-truck trying to make its own road, catching on fire, and emitting toxic gas from its blazing batteries. 

 Common Sagebrush Lizard

Literacy Statistics

 Sure, hardly anybody reads this, but now I know that at least for some of the U.S. population (21%), it's because they literally can't. 

Also, my home state has the lowest adult literacy rate in the U.S. That was kind of unexpected. Click here for more. 

Don't Prepare for Your Close-up

 

Sometimes you don't get the close-up shot you imagined you'd get. This is a very tightly cropped photo of a Northern Red Bishop, a species native to Africa, but photographed along the Guadalupe River in San Jose, California. There are apparently breeding populations in Southern California and Texas though, and this one appears to have a mate. eBird lists the species as "exotic/escapee", but maybe that will change as more of them establish themselves. Below are a couple of equally exotic Scaly-breasted Munias, native to southern Asia, which have definitely established themselves in the area. 

Written to the tune of Ludwig Van Beethoven Missa Solemnis, disc 74 of an 85 CD "Complete Works" box set.

Cleaning

 During the traditional pause between summer and the beginning of the school year, I've found the time and energy to do little projects around the house, something I've always been excellent at putting off nearly indefinitely. My current focus is my desk drawer, which I've discovered contains nearly every ballpoint pen ever created. If you've lost one, it's probably because it's in my desk drawer. It's like the theory that lost dryer socks end up in a garage in Wisconsin. Improbable, but then again, who knows? None of this changes the fact that my drawer is full to bursting with pens. 

I also found some odd bits of poetry I wrote during last year's (?) in-service at work. I can't remember the stated goal of the exercise now, other than the usual reflection-based things that teachers often do, and the idea that poetry and outdoor school really do go hand in hand. For instance, I've seen (and somewhere back in the dim recesses of time, posted on this blog) examples of writing by 10-year-olds that in a just universe really should have been published in a more permanent format. 

The following bit of poetry was written in sub-optimal conditions and somewhat under duress. This is because I like to write when I'm alone, not when I'm at work surrounded by people and doing it as some sort of group exercise. Still, I transcribe it here so I can preserve it and recycle the piece of paper it was written on. Pretty freeform and tossing out the rulebook when it comes to meter and rhyme, but when it comes to expression, rules are for fools. 

I notice a gentle breeze playing with the parched leaves

I wonder whether the trees will weather the drought

For the liquid of life they've gone too long without

It reminds me of connections to this world that we share

And the journey of life as we struggle to get somewhere

This somewhere and somehow our open-ended future

Made possible by these connections by wheels within wheels ever spinning

I notice the harsh call of a jay

And a truck that ceased idling

A plane overhead

A goldfinch, distant sighing

Tire crunch of gravel

The twitter of a junco

Chickadees in the cones

Urgent business in the forest

A second bit of writing is shoehorned into the margins, almost as if blank space is somehow offensive, but really because using a second piece of paper would be a waste. It's a peek into what motives me.

The first taste of coffee is before contact with the tongue

Being when and where I am I wouldn't have it otherwise

The first onset of evening and the first hint of dawn

The shift of seasons and all that they promise

Endless epiphanies inspired

A breeze picking up

Subtle changes promise

The endless, frenzied darting of the insects

Finding the hidden

Noticing the unnoticed

Making the connection binding us all

Anticipation propels me around each corner

Each corner beckons

Hiding a mystery

Generally speaking, the first poem is rooted in the present, and the second one is rooted in the future in that it's all about anticipation and change, although change on a cyclical or seasonal level. Anticipation drives me.

Written/transcribed to the tune of No Sun Rises "Ascent/Decay" and Henry Derek Elis "Don't Look"

Birding Natural Bridges State Beach

 When I started getting into birding, I typically went out mid-morning on a Saturday or Sunday each weekend. Jump cut to the present, and I find myself going out earlier and more often, usually on both Saturday and Sunday, and often with a revolving cast of fellow enthusiasts. Despite my loner tendencies, I have to admit that I've made some good friends, not to mention that going out with groups of people who are often more experienced than I am, means we're more likely to see a greater variety of birds. 

Today it was just a pair of us, and our main goal was to find the Summer Tanager reported yesterday at Natural Bridges State Beach in Santa Cruz. It took us all of 10 minutes to find the bird, but it didn't stick around long. In fact, after our initial glimpse, it buggered off into the distant Eucalyptus treetops. Summer Tanagers are rare in California, normally breeding closer to the gulf coast and wintering mostly in South America. This is the only one I've seen locally this year.

Summer Tanager

Later, wandering along West Cliff Drive, we found a single Wandering Tattler and a solitary Surfbird, not to mention countless gulls, cormorants, and pelicans. 

Wandering Tattler

 Surfbird

The only mystery we encountered is why somebody would name a Heerman's Gull "Chad."

Bodega Bay, June into July, 2024

I could say that we chose to go to Bodega Bay for a few days because we hadn't explored that part of the state yet (apart from stopping at The Birds cafe on the way home from Fort Bragg a couple of years ago) but the truth is that during a heatwave, it's cooler on the coast, not to mention that there was a rare Yellow-throated Loon hanging out at the north end of the bay. 

So yeah, relative coolness and relative rarity. It's a good thing Jeanine was happy with the destination too. We're both alike in that we take things as they come and always find a way to enjoy them. 

It only takes a couple of hours to get there, at least when the traffic gods cooperate. It was even cooler than expected when we arrived, not to mention windy There were plenty of loons in the water although, as far as I could tell, none of them were the specific bird I was hoping to see. We went to The Birds Cafe again and I managed to dump most of my coffee on Jeanine. Before that, we got some lunch at Diekman's Store for some deli-type lunches. Over the railing I noticed a bunch of Willets and a smaller bird that turned out to be a Ruddy Turnstone, which is apparently rare locally. 

Later, looking toward the ocean and literally holding on to our hats to prevent them from being blown over the bluff, we witnessed an accumulation of Common Murres living up to their name out on the rocks. During this brief trip, it felt like we saw all of the Common Murres in the world clinging to the offshore rocks like lichen. Good for them.

The next day was partially taken up by visiting a couple of odd sites we had discovered using the Atlas Obscura app. - the first one being the Children's Bell Tower, erected as a memorial to young Nicholas Green, killed in a botched robbery in Italy. His parents donated his organs and corneas afterwards, helping seven different Italian patients. Many of the various bells that make up the tower were sent from Italy by various schools, churches, mines, and ships. The haunting songs of Swainson's Thrushes resounded from nearby trees. 

The second stop was the mammoth rubbing stones up near Jenner. We'd missed them last time on our way south from Fort Bragg. They're a couple of jagged, upthrust bits of blueschist once visited by prehistoric megafauna and used as spot to scratch itches and otherwise aid in their grooming routines.

After a time, we drove back toward Bodega Bay and then inland. If we had an old school thermometer, we could have watched the mercury rise rapidly as we headed to Ragle Ranch Park to look for weasels. It was in the mid-nineties by the time we got there and the weasels, being smarter than us, stayed underground for the duration. I had gotten a brief glimpse of a weasel back near the mammoth rubbing stones after some agitated White-crowned Sparrows alerted us that something was amiss, but the wily little beast was feeling photo-sensitive, so no documentation was achieved. 

On the way back from our failed weasel search, we stopped at a small cemetery where Jeanine stumbled upon the final resting place of Nicholas Green. We meditated on death while a single Lazuli Bunting sang from some nearby Eucalyptus trees. 

After dinner, I tried once more for the Yellow-billed Loon. So far, I'd taken countless photos of loons, but I was pretty sure all of them had been Common Loons, a species that lived up to its name locally. This time I was successful. There was already another photographer there. He'd just filled up his SD card and was leaving, so I hunkered down by the shore and showed enough restraint that my own SD card still had room for possibilities when I was done. The first photo below shows the Yellow-billed Loon in the foreground with a Common Loon lurking behind.

The Common Loons, not used to being ignored, struck some fancy poses.

In the morning, there was a Bald Eagle visible from our deck. Our last stop before heading south on Highway One was the schoolhouse (now a private residence) featured in Hitchcock's The Birds. 

We stopped in a bookstore in Point Reyes Station, and then at Point Reyes before heading home.

We of course rewatched Hitchcock's The Birds upon arriving home, although unfortunately the only version available for free streaming was the colorized one, which means I'm going to be rewatching it again sometime soon.

Written to the tune of Beethoven's String Quartets Op. 59 Nos. 1 & 2. 

Current Entertainment

 I'm currently reading a newish edition of Algernon Blackwood stories, rewatching (with Jeanine) Lars Von Trier's The Kingdom Season 2 in preparation for watching the relatively newly released Season 3 and listening (as I type) to Xasthur's "Inevitably Dark" double CD. 

For old time's sake, here's a picture of a subtly beautiful Northern Pacific Rattlesnake, found in a shed by a coworker. At the request of our garden coordinator, it was released into the big pile of unused decorative landscaping rocks near our garden so it can continue the good work of eating voles and other miscreants.

 

Two stories Relating to Body Parts Being Made Into Something Greater Than Their Sum

 Recently, I learned interesting things about a couple of friends.

A friend of around 40 years is in the final stages of making guitar picks out of his own skull. He just needs to dip them in resin. The backstory is that a few years ago he had a massive stroke which necessitated the removal of part of his skull. Said part was replaced by bionic parts (or, a 3D printed replacement, if you want the boring version) and he got to keep the original bits. Part of me wants one, but I'd feel awkward asking. 

A newer friend revealed this weekend that he's literally Dr. Frankenstein. Sure, his last name is actually Frank, but his family name used to be Frankenstein until his first ancestor to emigrate to the U.S. was warned that he should change his surname due to its association with the titular character in Mary Shelley's novel, not to mention the fact that politicians at the time were using the name to insult their opponents. And yes, my friend has a PhD, so he's a doctor, just not one of medicine. 

A Sudden Surge of Words

I've noticed that I have a waning urge to create as I get older. I think this draining of the creative reservoir is something that affects many of us as we age. Notice that I seldom write here anymore, although whether this really counts as creativity is open for debate. This post comes courtesy of a conversation had while coming back from birding yesterday. One could argue that there is a creative aspect to birding. The taking and processing of photos is somewhat creative. The drive to improve on one's best photos is similar to the drive fueling other types of creativity, but to my mind it's not quite the same. Our conversation centered around writing, so here I am, writing. I formed some half-assed idea that once again I would try to post here regularly. It seems counterintuitive to write here (as opposed to social media, ha ha) where very few people will ever read it, but being a relatively private person, I like the idea of allowing my train of thought to follow the weed-obscured rails into the vast empty spaces of what may or may not be still known as the blogosphere.

I'm currently listening to Mozart's operas, which are at the tail-end of a 170 CD box set of his complete works. I'm still not really an opera fan, but I can appreciate his musical genius a bit more than previously. The man operated on a different plane than most of us. 

It's only May, and already this year I've been to Virginia, Illinois, and Arizona. Work chugs along as usual, although I'm becoming increasingly aware of the prospect of retirement. It's a good thing I've got my retirement hobby sorted out early.

Endings and Beginnings

 My first photo of the year was the New Year's Day sunrise as seen from Jetty Road at Moss Landing as we waited for AAA to come and deal with a flat tire on my friend's car. It must be noted that I also managed to lose my lens hood somewhere in the soft sand, the softness being the primary factor that made me miss the sound of it dropping from my lens. Despite this inauspicious beginning to the year, it was a beautiful day. Hidden in the photo above are some Brown Pelicans. While there, I counted 1433 of them as they commuted from east of Highway One toward the ocean. I'm sure there were more. I also must note that, in addition to the issues related above, we were in the wrong place for a planned rendezvous with our Christmas Bird Count group. Eventually, our problems were solved, and we joined the count. I ended the day seeing 91 bird species. 

The year dawns. Will I write much here over the next twelve months? Time will tell. 

Little Free Library Surprise

 I ordered some books online recently, one of which was Alasdair Reynolds' Eversion. I've long been a fan of his somewhat more realistic take on the whole "space opera" genre. The realism no-doubt comes from his day job as an astrophysicist. 

I mention this particular book purchase because Jeanine saw it on the bed yesterday and had a deja-vu moment, along the lines of "I just saw that book somewhere recently." 

It turns out somebody had put a copy of it in our Little Free Library in the front yard. So, I could literally have walked out the front door and picked the book out of the library and it would have taken less time than clicking the keyboard button to order it. Not to mention less money. In my defense, usually when new stuff shows up in the library it's self-help for the helpless, religious pamphlets, or some other similarly unreadable tripe. I'm glad at least one nearby person has some taste. I just wish I'd noticed sooner.

We took a little trip to put some books in another free library today as well, mostly because Jeanine had noticed one that needed filling. 

Outraged Equals Engaged

 I don't know much about how the various social media and news algorithms work when it comes to the creation of personalized news feeds, but I have a sneaking suspicion that once the powers that be, whether they are human or AI, know which buttons to push, the user is fed a steady diet of outrage. Does a certain topic royally piss you off. Here, have some more! Sure, there is plenty to be outraged about, but when one's go-to news source or social media feed becomes like a nail in the foot, the whole thing becomes inconducive to mental health. 

I bring this up because I clicked on a link today that was the opposite of outrage. Instead, it was a bunch of stories about how teachers go above and beyond for their students, often in heartwarming ways. It was a powerful reminder that amongst all of the teeth gnashing and finger pointing, there is inspiration and humanity. Sure, these "suggested for you" articles are clickbait, but I'm excellent at tuning out ads. The point is, after reading the article, I felt better. 

Being a teacher (well, technically a para-educator), I found inspiration. I already know from personal experience that teachers have a lot of power and education is crucially important. I've lost track of the number of times that parents have approached me and shared how their kids sing my praises, not to mention the letters students send after coming to our science camp program. 

On the outrage side of the coin is the current right-wing attempt to dumb down education, to sweep so much of our history and diversity under the moth-eaten carpet of ignorance, to squish all of the variously shaped pegs into the round holes of the dominant paradigm. 

I will continue to do my small part to fight this attempt. Despite what some people think, we are not a Christian nation and most definitely are not a playground for angry white men. I've never considered myself a patriot (at a national level, the concept is just too abstract to mean much) and I've never paid much attention to the 4th of July as a meaningful holiday, and this year is no exception. The only difference is that with each passing year it seems like I have more company in feeling this way.

The antidote is to continue to find positive inspiration and continue to act on it. Be kind to each other and to yourself. We're all in this together.

Typed to the tune of:  Teleplasmiste "Science < > Religion"

Night of the Living Bread

 I went to Safeway today, and I was walking past the meat counter at the back of the store when an unfamiliar voice spoke some very familiar words, "they're coming to get you, Barbara!"

It's funny how at first one tries to put things into context. Did I mis-hear? Was Barbara's order ready? Then I remembered I was wearing a Night of the Living Dead T-shirt. They guy behind the meat counter obviously approved.

Best unexpected laugh of the day so far. 

Another Moment in Time

 I've mostly ignored this site lately, but on occasion, I hope that I'll find the inspiration and the time to post more regularly. I've always preferred posting on a blog that nobody reads to posting on social media. I almost wrote that I'm not sure why, but that wouldn't quite be true. I like to leave a trail of words that meander like a single-track dirt path to nowhere in particular rather than post a few short lines that inspire some sort of response from the ready-made audience lurking on social media. Why? Because I'm an introvert by nature and social obligations, even something as simple as replying to people's responses, are oddly draining. 

At any rate, at this point in time I'm in the thick of another season of summer camp. Week 2 of 9, to be precise. The Summer Solstice has just passed, and the days are slowly getting shorter again. The trip home today was lengthened by a detour up a narrow road called Redwood Gulch as construction crews put in a temporary bridge on Highway 9 so they can refurbish the existing bridge. 

Everything is generally going okay. Music and wilderness continue to inspire. 

Happy Solstice to everyone. May the darkness return!

Musical Coincidence

 As I tend to do when I have time off, I was just scrolling back through old posts here. It's nice to see what I was up to, say, 10 or even 20 years ago (which reminds me, the 20 year anniversary of this blog passed by unremarked earlier this year), and coincidentally enough, I just noticed that I listened to the same 3 CDs in the same sequence almost exactly 20 years ago. To wit, Mekong Delta "Pictures at an Exhibition", Mercyful Fate "Return of the Vampire", and Metallica "Garage, Inc." The observant among you may have noticed that all of the band names start with the letter M, which is due to my habit of periodically relistening to music in the order it has been shelved. 

Yuletidalwave

 It's Christmas Day, and we're still hours away from celebrating our secular version of the holiday. Much of the country is currently being blasted by arctic winds and snow, but I see mostly blue sky out my window. Rain is forecast for tomorrow night, and is likely to linger for the rest of the coming week. 

Typed to the tune of: Loreena Mckennitt "Under A Winter's Moon"

Like Letters Never Sent

It's not a drought-breaker, but it has been raining all day. The trees I can see from my window have been dancing, a few gulls have lazily circled underneath a gray sky, and a soggy neighborhood cat crept along the fence earlier. I do love looking out the window at rain.

I'm having a nothing day, where I laze around the house, listening to music. I also watched a DVDr of Conor McGrady's somewhat abstract Entering the Forbidden Zone, featuring a foreboding soundtrack by Nurse With Wound, put some clean dishes away, and put some batteries in the charger so I can take my blood pressure later.

But mostly I listened to music.

I've been spending time with a regular group of people most Sunday mornings, going out birding. We're heading out tomorrow, despite the chance of lingering showers. I'm toying with the idea of focusing on writing about these excursions here, but I don't know if that will actually happen. It would provide a much-needed focus to this blog (yeah, I know that blogs have passed their sell-by date by a decade or so... but keeping one is still better than the wading through the shitshow that is social media). 

I have one more week of work this calendar year (but still much of the school year to go). As usual, I'm late with holiday gift shopping.

It just occured to me that these posts are sort of like letters never sent. I don't usually tell people about this blog, and I don't know of anybody who reads it (kind of hard to keep interested in a blog with such long gaps of silence), so in all likelihood this will go unnoticed and unread, until it fetches up on somebody's beach like a bottled message.

I hope this message finds you well, hypothetical future reader.

Snapshot In Time

 Nearly 20 years ago, when I started this blog, I didn't have any real idea what I wanted to do with it. I still don't, although I occasionally find myself scrolling through old entries and finding moments that otherwise would have been entirely lost. We never remember as much as we think we do. 

So, I'm breaking my silence to provide a current snapshot in time. 

It's raining for the first time in what seems like forever, although the drought will not be broken by this paltry drizzle.

A pair of Mourning Doves have built a nest on a convenient outdoor shelving unit which is inconveniently located at eye-level a couple of feet from our door. The male, his job done, has essentially buggered off, and the female has proven to be a lackadaisical caregiver. She hasn't been on the nest since sometime yesterday. We do have a local Cooper's Hawk, so it might not be entirely her fault. I hope she has survived and that she comes back to finish her job.

I'm currently listening to the first of 45 (or so) cassettes I received in the mail yesterday from Bulgaria. Most of them are by pioneering Bulgarian electronic musician Simo Lazarov. This is going to take awhile.

I just watched the late seventies Australian occult horror film, Alison's Birthday, which is part of Severin Films' massive folk horror Blu-ray boxset, All the Haunts Be Ours. I think I'm more than halfway through the set now. Lots of interesting films that I missed the first time around, plus at least one absolute favorite (Clearcut) made this a must-purchase for me. 

I'm currently reading Inhibitor Phase, by Alastair Reynolds, which is set in his Revelation Space universe. Within its pages, things look mighty bleak for humanity. Reynolds provides a more realistic take on space travel than that seen in a lot of other contemporary science fiction (Star Trek, Star Wars, etc.), probably due to his PhD in astrophysics. 

My phone died a little over a week ago, and I mostly don't miss it, although I'll get another one sometime soon. It is a handy tool to have, after all. 

I've seen 183 species of bird so far this year, but who's counting? Hyperfixation is a thing.

Currently watching on TV: Star Trek: Voyager (season 3), Picard (season 2), and The Walking Dead (season 11, part 2) 

We're actually short-staffed at work, although multiple people are in the process of being hired/trained. Face masks still need to be worn, but in most other respects, things are slowly getting back to pre-pandemic normal. There seem to be new changes every week or so. The latest is having field classes be a mix of genders again (up until last week, cabin groups were also field groups, which made contact tracing easier in cases of Covid transmission). 

That's all for the moment. I predict I'll post again three or four months from now. 

Lengthening the Poem

 At least 100 crows just commuted by overhead. I saw somebody mention online that they roost somewhere nearer to the bay. Just now, they were headng southeastward, and in the evening they will be on their way back. Somebody is going to have to add some lines to the old crow poem. Maybe I will. In fact, I'll make that my new year's resolution.

Yet Another Year Rears Its Head Above the Horizon

 The first bird of the year for me was, fittingly, a crow. Three of them, actually. I consider that a good omen, even though the old crow poem indicates that three crows either means "a wedding" or "a girl," neither of which seem appropriate to my life situation at the moment (I'm married and I already have a daughter).

This just in - my continued perusal of the internet reveals that it could also mean "a letter" or "a celebration." Intriguing. 

At any rate, happy new year to all who read this, and to all who don't. If you count yourself among the latter, you will never know I wished you happiness. Such is life - an endless succession of missed connections.

Bring it on. Maybe this will be the year where everybody will finally learn to use apostrophes correctly.