Encounters of a Bird Kind

I was recently organizing a few of my 15,641 pictures when I noticed that over the past few weeks I had taken quite a few bird pictures. Upon further reflection I realized I had enough material for my own version of an Audubon handbook. I should add my disclaimer here and let you know that I am not a bird expert and some of this information about birds might be incorrect. Do not use any of this info to write a bird report. Now on with this story.


I took this picture when I was in Florida. I ran recklessly into the middle of the road to capture this shot. I was convinced it was a Bald Eagle and was screeching while taking the shot to try and attract this bird to land close by.
My screeching was successful and the bald eagle landed! Although it wasn't a bald eagle. It turns out that this actually was a turkey vulture which really are ugly and large. This particular bird had a wicked attitude and tried to scare me. I informed him that it takes more than some ugly bird to scare me.

So...maybe I was a bit scared. I scurried away quickly after snapping this final shot of Mr. Mean Turkey Vulture although I must admit I do like the color of his feathers but I wouldn't tell him that.

This is the graceful Great Blue Heron that hangs out by the pond near my mom's house in the Sunshine state. He has a calm personality and a much more positive attitude than mean Mr. Turkey Vulture.

He is searching for some dinner. I love the way he can move his neck.

Success! You can see the tail of a small fish sticking out of his bill.

Now some might find the following story disturbing so I am warning you ahead of time. Sometimes nature can be harsh. One day when changing sheets in our guest bedroom I looked out of the window to see that we had a new tenant living in our roof gables. A mother robin had built a nest and was hanging out waiting for the birth of her babies. I was quite excited and each day would sit and watch her as she flew around fixing her nest. Most of the time she just sat and kept her eggs warm. I paced anxiously, waiting for their arrival.

And then on the morning of June 1, 2009 Mama Robin's babies hatched and she began the task of feeding her newborns. I couldn't see them yet but I knew they were in there and was a proud Auntie. Mama Robin was a hard worker, tireless, as she fed, protected and continued to keep them warm.

So imagine my surprise, confusion and dismay when one morning I went to visit the Robin family and instead I found this sitting in the middle of their nest...

a Mourning Dove! What the heck! I yelled to my husband that we had an emergency situation -pronto! He ran up the stairs three at a time since I was distraught, crying and screaming. Totally breathless he asked me what was wrong ~ all I could do was point out at the nest.

We didn't know what to do. Twice I saw the Mama Robin dive bomb the nest but Papa Mourning Dove appeared out of nowhere and chased her off. I don't know where the robin babies are or if there are now baby doves living in the nest. We did consider getting a large pole to boot the intruder off of the nest but we did not do that. We figured that this is nature and we had better not mess around with it. I was sad though and all hopes of getting pictures of the baby robins for the family album vanished. I think this Mourning Dove has beady little eyes and I do not trust her.

And like many of the tenants who have rented from us over the years, this one was no different. I went to check on their nest one morning to find that they had skipped out in the cover of darkness without cleaning up their place and of course, with no rent paid. The worse part is that I will never know why this happened or what happened to the babies.

Emotionally exhausted from the robin/mourning dove drama I decided to focus more on my plants. I have these beautiful cascading 'somethings' hanging from planters on my front porch. And yes, I know they must have an official name besides 'somethings' but there was no identifying tag in them when I bought them so I asked the clerk what they were and she said, "they are cascading somethings." Honest. So...I was standing on a chair so I could reach my 'somethings' and I noticed straw sticking out of the top of the planter. I screamed to my husband who once again came running to see what was the matter this time.

He lifted the planter off of the hook so I could see if there was something inside of my somethings. And sure enough...

A Mama Robin decided that none of the thousands of trees on our property would be a good place to make a nest. Nope. Let's make the nest in the middle of the hanging somethings. Let's start a family right here.

I refuse to get emotionally attached this time. I swear. I am not going to get involved in any drama. But I do wonder why there is only one egg. I wonder if I can water my plant. I wonder how many more days until we have a baby bird chirping away. I wonder if I will be able to get an award winning photo. I wonder where the Mourning Dove is living now. I wonder...

What are you thinking?

Every morning I receive a 'Note From the Universe' in my computer inbox. The daily message from 'The Universe' is a positive tidbit which helps me remember that thoughts become things so I had better think good ones. It helps me start my day with a positive focus and a smile. My husband does occasionally feel the need to tell me that this is a computer generated message and that my message is not personalized. I am not so sure.

Throughout life I, like many people, have had events occur which have made me stop and pay close attention to my universe. Events which made me realize that there is someone or something much bigger than all of us and we need to pay attention to the messages which are floating around us. Often the messages aren't earth shattering or life changing but they do serve as a reminder that 'The Universe' is listening.

One such event occurred this past April when we were visiting my parents in Florida. We walked through my parent's retirement community in the evening and I smelled the most intoxicating, exotic smell which sent my olfactory glands into overdrive. My mom identified the flowering plant as the jasmine. I ran from yard to yard smooshing my face among the tiny delicate white flowers and inhaling deeply. My mom was concerned that the neighbors might report me to the authorities but I couldn't help myself - I was under the influence. I skipped merrily through the streets, nose lifted in the air, searching for a whiff of the most heavenly scent on earth.

"When I get back to NH I am planting jasmine throughout my yard," I proclaimed to all.

"You can't. Jasmine is a warm climate plant. It won't survive in NH."

"When I get back to NH I am buying a jasmine plant," I proclaimed to all.

"You can't. Jasmine will die in NH."

" I am going to have a jasmine plant in NH." I covered my ears and refused to listen to the naysayers.

I then returned home and forgot all about the exotic jasmine. I worked in my garden pulling weeds out from my petunias and hostas and my nose didn't even register any odors. I went to the local Home Depot one Saturday morning for some gardening supplies. As I stood in front of the bags of mulch trying to decide what type to purchase my nose started to twitch. I inhaled more deeply and had a Florida flashback. The scent of jasmine was in the air. I left my cart and followed my nose. I walked up to an older woman and tried to discreetly determine if she was wearing Jasmine perfume. I must have been in her personal space since she turned around, backed up, and slowly moved away from me. My nose ruled her out. I became a bloodhound as I walked quickly up and down aisles trying to find the source of the jasmine. I stopped in front of a row of pallets which was overloaded with a variety of potted plants. I started to rummage through and stacking the non-jasmine plants into the aisle in a rather frantic way.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

I turned to see a Home Depot man in his official orange vest watching me with curiosity and maybe slight suspicion.

Breathlessly I explained, " There is a Jasmine plant somewhere on this pallet and I have to find it."

"Well, you are correct. It was sent up here to NH accidentally. Jasmine doesn't grow in this zone."

"Oh, it was no accident. The Universe sent it to me."

"Excuse me?"

At this point I had found the very healthy Jasmine with its green, shiny leaves and was hanging onto it with a death grip. I proceeded to explain my trip to Florida and how the Universe had been listening and...

"Why don't I show you to the checkout ma'am?" And he proceeded to walk me to the front of the store.

I stopped and turned to face his skepticism.

"Hasn't the Universe ever communicated with you?"

"Why don't I walk you out to your car?" He stood with his hand on his walkie -talkie ready to call Security.

I hugged my Jasmine plant to my chest and walked towards the exit.

Always one who has to get in the last word, I turned to share my final words of wisdom with him...

"Thoughts become things. If you see it in your mind, you will hold it in your hand."

And here is my Jasmine plant ~ living a healthy life in NH...

Pay Attention.

I am recovering from a flu/cold/nastiness which hit me last Tuesday. Thoughts of swine flu did dance through my head more than once as I dealt with achy joints, headache, fever,and a sore throat which felt as if I had swallowed razor blades. My energy levels were zapped and even the simplest of tasks were exhausting. I curled up into the fetal position, sipped tea, chugged O.J., popped cold/flu drugs wondering if I would ever feel 'normal' again. I sputtered, I moaned and I stressed over all that I wasn't accomplishing. And then, I decided maybe I had better listen. To who? My body.

My body was sending me a message to slow down and take care of myself. Like many women, I often tend to take care of all those around me and I pride myself on how I am able to 'bash on regardless.' Take care of my adorable, lovable grand babies once a week; zip down to Florida and help Mom care for my Dad ~ emotionally; continue to nurture, love and worry about my four grown children ~ once a mom, always a mom; attend graduation parties, plan and organize retirement parties and baby showers; be a good friend to all of my incredible friends; and love, support and be there for my soul mate of thirty-one years who is up to his eyeballs with stress due to the current economy so... I crashed. My immune system was on overload so when the nasty flu bug came knocking, my body's defense system did little to protect me and I was knocked for a loop. But the good news is that I am recuperating slowly. I did catch up on some reading, watched a few old movies and napped everyday frequently. I need to pay attention and listen to my own body and take care of myself. And off to bed I go...with hopes to have enough energy soon to write a wicked long humorous, inspirational post which will rock the blogging world but for now I will leave you with this: "To keep the body in good health is a duty...otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear.” ~ Buddha

Happy Independence Day!

Wordless Wednesday...Here Comes the Sun !

A little bit of sunshine for all of us on the East Coast where it has rained 18 of the last 22 days...

What's in a Name?

I was out and about in the blogosphere recently visiting old friends and exploring new territories. I zipped around reading, admiring photos and leaving comments. I came to my sixteenth stop of the day, preparing to leave an intellectual comment so the host would know I really had taken the time to read their post when I stopped dead in mid-typing. Quite a few people had already left comments and as I read through I noticed that another person named 'Deb' had already left a comment. And then another ... and believe it or not, a third 'Deb' had commented. And this is only one more reason why I hate my name. Once again I felt unoriginal and just another girl born in the 1950's who gets lost in the masses and who happens to think she has the most boring name EVER.



I decided to do a little research on the name ' Debbie'. There are currently 240,816 people in the U.S. with the first name Debbie. 99 % are females. It is a form of the name 'Deborah' or in my case 'Debra'. It means bee but I always tell people it means queen bee which helps in my quest to have a special name. I found a survey page which says the name is only mispronounced 11% of the time. No comment. Survey says people only misspell the name 9% of the time ~ this would include my darling husband of thirty years who wrote my name on a score sheet for a card game we were playing. I looked at what he had written - twelve times. I went to get my glasses. I cleaned my glasses. He had written 'Debby'. I thought he was having a medical emergency since HOW IN THE WORLD COULD HE NOT KNOW HOW TO SPELL MY NAME AFTER THIRTY YEARS OF MARRIAGE?! A fight ensued but long story short ~ the explanation was that he never writes 'Debbie' ~ he always writes 'Deb' - which is true but still. I bet if my name was Angelina or Halle or Goldie he would be able to write my name correctly. But I am over all that and ready to move on. Honey, you spell that D-e-b-b-i-e and I have a long memory.

Now at this point I need to tell you what my maiden name was so that you have a clear understanding of my name issue. My maiden name was Smith. Yep, Debbie Smith. Zzzzzzzz !!

Now I have a few Debbie Smith stories and if I had a dime for every time I heard 'That can't be your real name," I would be a rich girl. But I will share the story with you which made me truly dislike my name.

I was a freshman in college and lived in an all girl dorm. This was back in the prehistoric days when if a girl had a male visitor he had to stop at the desk in the lobby and the girl would be called down to meet her male visitor. She could walk him back to her room but the door to the room had to remain open.

It was a Saturday night and I was just hanging out in my room. The buzzer goes off and I hear, "Debbie Smith, please come to the lobby. You have a male guest." I looked at my roommate and asked her if I had heard correctly. I, Debbie Smith, had a male visitor? I never had male visitors. "Yes," she screamed. And soon the hallway was full of my friends all curious to see who was here to visit Debbie Smith. Well, I can assure you no one was more curious than I. I ran my fingers through my hair, thought about putting on a bra but no real need plus I had recently burnt them all. My friends shoved me to the metal door at the end of the hall which separated me from my male guest. There was this little window in the door so we could peek out to see who was standing at the lobby desk. Twelve of us were on tippy toe trying to check out mystery man. At that point we tumbled into the door and the whole pile landed, ungracefully, in the lobby. Nice. By the time I gained my composure my friends had vanished, leaving me standing there with the mystery male guest and the front desk clerk.

"Hi," I said meekly, wondering who the heck this guy was and vowed right then and there to stop drinking so much at fraternity parties.

"Hi. Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Debbie Smith."

"No, you aren't." He started to look for the closest exit.

"Yes, I am. " Now I am positive that I am having an out of body experience ~ and I am not sure why.

" I met a Debbie Smith last night at a frat party and she told me she lived in Monadnock Hall."

"Well. I am Debbie Smith. I was at a frat party last night and I do live here in Monadnock Hall." What the heck. Is this some one's idea of a joke? Not funny.

" You don't look like the Debbie Smith I met last night." Well, you don't look like the male mystery guest I have been fantasizing about for the whole semester either! What exactly are you saying buster? So you had a few too many the previous night and I looked better when you were under the influence? Slime ball. I could feel my neck veins starting to pulse and I was biting the inside of my cheek - bad sign.

I couldn't resist. "What did the Debbie Smith look like that you met last night?" Ah, Debbie, Debbie, Debbie - will you never learn?

"She had brown long hair. " I just pointed at my brown long hair. I decided to not make this easy for this male mystery slime guest.

"Um, she wore blue jeans." Hey, Einstein, that's all any of us wore in 1975. No help from me. I decided to let him squiggle a bit more since he could barely contain his disappointment that I was Debbie Smith.

" I guess, well, she wasn't as skinny as you." Ah-ha. His fantasy Debbie Smith had meat on her bones in all the right places and didn't go by the nickname 'Skinny Minny'.

At this point the front desk clerk pipes in. "You must be talking about the other Debbie Smith who lives on the third floor."

"What?" We both turned and stared at her.

"Yeah, there is a new transfer student who just moved in on the third floor. I bet that is who he is looking for."

I could see the relief on his face. I hoped he could see anything but the hurt that was threatening to squirt out of the corners of my eyes.

"Well, there you go. Mystery solved. Hope you have a good time with the real Debbie Smith," and I turned to walk back to my room, not wanting to hear anymore or to see the real Debbie Smith.

So...I once asked my mom why she had to pick such an ordinary name for her daughter. She defended her choice but then went on to tell me that it had been a toss-up between Debbie and Zilla. Right. I can totally understand why that must have been a hard call since those names have so much in common ~ NOT!

I have now been watching my children go through the name game as they prepare for the arrival of their children. No one has asked me for my advice but if they ever asked me 'What's in a name?' I would say 'Everything.' And now I am going to practice writing the new name I might consider for myself ~ Debzilla. It has a certain flair to it, don't you think?

Wordless Wednesday ~ I Spy...

At first glance what do you see in the first picture ? Dried leaves and daffodils...

And then he opened his wings...and I saw him.