Two Warblers and Another Robin

It happened this way last year too. A Yellow-rumped Warbler arrived on the same day as the Wilson Warbler. I could have the IDs wrong, but that's what I think these two birds are. If I remember correctly, we
should be keeping our eyes open for the Western Tanager, which usually shows up for one day, around the time the warblers arrive. Their stay is short; they're all on their way to someplace else. We're just a layover, the Dharma way-station. We could blink and miss them, literally.
Okay, so here's another robin for you. At first I thought she had a mess of watery wet feathers, but the photo close-up doesn't look like that to me. When I look at the darkness on her chest I think it's blood. What do you think? What would make a bird look like this? She was eating and flying, and even though she looked thin, she looked like she could take care of herself.

An update: Thanks to the insight of two incomparable commenters, Valown and CCorax, it looks like the explanation for Ms. Robin's dark chest feathers could be an unusual molt. We are glad to know and even more appreciative of the very smart people who read our humble blog.

The arrival of the warblers is some evidence of a spring trying to emerge. We are, however, expecting a rainy weekend with a low of 34F on Saturday. Any lower and you know what happens? Snow. Yes, snow.

Have a good weekend, friends.

Variations on a Theme

While we're soaring with the exuberance of imagining some warmer sunny clime in our future, and simultaneously stressing about the cat's health and all of the packing we're going to have to do very quickly, we take a long look out the window and watch the various creatures deal with their place in the hierarchy of the wild.
Several beautiful Violet-Green Swallows arrived on the same day last week. Only one will get this nest box. For hours they took turns perched on the opening and denying access to the others.
We hadn't seen a Lesser House Finch in about two years. Most male House Finches are red. The yellows are those which don't have access to the highest quality food. Note this young gent is eating seed in the driveway gravel while the reds take turns on the seed feeder.
I've been reading about mallard behavior. Every piece I've read says that males leave the females when she starts sitting on the nest. That's it, relationship over. Here's what this drake does, day after day, he comes here alone and sits. He quacks and waits. He flies off, and he returns. Only when she comes, the one with restless wing syndrome (thanks for that description, mojoman) does he rest. An aggressive alpha male has tried to take over the pond. The mellow beta drake, and I with my human beta self asserted, chase that interloper off. This drake waits for her, and the lone female we call Ms. Gloria Steinem. The three of them rest all evening by the pond.
Stick Robin shows up a robust and healthy male. We secretly fantasize that he's the father of many of the young robins we've seen over the years. He's the eloquent teacher of how to survive being dealt a lousy hand. (Stick Robin photographed on Sunday. He looks good, doesn't he?)

Update: Bonsai's health is definitely improving. He's not happy about his new diet, but he's adjusting. He's even dealing with the daily dosing of antibiotics. We are surprised and heartened by how much he trusts us, even when we are making his life miserable.

The house inspection is scheduled for next Monday at 9:00 am. One more hurdle to clear on the road out of here.

We're not saying anything about politics these days. You know us. You know what we think. We were reminded the other day about Jon Stewart's tirade on Crossfire a few years ago, when he shouted how Paul Begala and Tucker Carlson's antics were killing our country. I think we're about due for another tirade about how almost all of media is killing our democracy. Perhaps this tirade will need all of our beta voices together. Just a thought.

up and down and up

we have indeed accepted a good offer to buy our house. and thank you all again for your kind wishes for our success. escrow to close may 23. yikes, that's only 6 weeks! there is, as bobby burns reminds us, "many a slip 'tween 'twixt the cup and the lip," but this is a simple offer and the buyers supposedly (oh dear) have their financing lined up already so it's up to an appraiser. we signed the offer on saturday morning. wahoo!!!!! we are on our way.

but wait. life goes on in all areas possible. watch out, as jon carroll, one of my favorite columnists, warns readers when he's going to talk about his cats, here comes a cat post. and medical to boot.
on friday we noticed bonsai, our cat, lying down in his litterbox. that's not good. he also tried to urinate outside. both unusual behaviors and indicative of bladder problems. looking in the litterbox we could see that he had urinated only a small amount. i called the vet and got an appointment monday morn. by saturday noon the little bits of wet litter were even smaller. very smaller.

so bonsai got an emergency trip to the vet. male cats have a tendency to bladder blockage, thanks to a lousy intelligent design. it does require immediate attention. fortunately it is a very short way to the clinic so he only had to complain a short time. the vet has a metal examining table and we put him up there. i get to hold him, gently but firmly by the scruff with one hand, controlling his body with the other, while the vet examines him. she looks at his eyes and mouth. he is fairly calm. and then she says "let's see if he's blocked," and she lifts his tail while sliding her other hand along his belly back between his rear legs and somehow squeezes out a bit of urine! i am amazed. robin has retreated to the outer room. bonsai hardly seems to notice. robin tells me later that she couldn't believe the vet did this, and the following tests, without wearing gloves. i agree.

now there is perhaps a teaspoon of cat urine on the stainless steel table. the vet gets some sort of high tech test strip and dips it in the pee. tho the liquid looks clear and only slightly yellow the multiple use test strip indicates that the ph is ok, but that there are also both red and white blood cells, suggesting that crystals have scratched his urethra and that he has a bit of infection. as there is still flow the treatment is hydration to flush out his bladder, steroid to reduce inflammation thus increasing flow, antibiotic for the infection, and sedation for relaxation. so i get to keep holding the cat while he has a hydration needle stuck in him and something like a cup of saline runs into him. slowly. robin has rejoined us and speaks soothingly to bonsai. i hold him against my body as becomes more restless. the vet, meanwhile has checked the urine under a microscope and confirms the diagnosis of crystals. the final indignity is a shot of sedative.

jumping to the conclusion and breaking the tension, bonsai has urinated more in the past 12 hours (i'm writing this sunday afternoon) than in the previous 48. the treatment seems so far successful. the trip home from the vet was peaceful as he was dosed. by the time we got home he couldn't walk, so robin put him under the bed in his safe spot. he growled at me if i got near. weakly. today he has almost completely forgiven or forgotten my sins and purrs a bit when i rub his head. i give him, morning and night, a dose of liquid antibiotic squirted into his mouth. i am not completely off his shit list.

Limbo, Tides, and Bones

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATEAROONY saturday morning 10 am

thanks for all the good thoughts. it worked!!!!! we have accepted an offer!!!!!

the good part...no contingencies other than the usual inspection and financial stuff.

the more difficult part...30 day escrow. pack up and be gone in 30 days.
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we're in limbo here. not the theological Catholic limbo of dead souls unable to progress to heaven because, well, ask a priest. we're in the limbo of "house for sale." a very neat and tidy place, which is a good thing, but this limbo isn't very homey. no leaving books and papers and camera and binoculars and computers and yesterday's mail on every horizontal surface. and shoes, oh, we have shoes, garden clogs, hiking boots, work shoes, sneakers, thongs, and each sort has a proper use and so should be handy by a door to outside. no half an apple or banana on the cutting board. no bag of peanuts or potato chips on the counter. and then there are the bedroom and bathroom. oy. no pile of stuff on my clothes dresser. no clothes on a chair. no chair either!

so we spiff up the landscape and go walking, both of which are good. at least playing on the internet is only messy in the mind. bits and pieces of all sorts of interesting stuff from all of you and others. we've become caretakers of our own house, having already surrendered ownership to commerce. as nothing, save the two constants of cliche', death and taxes, is certain--we have planted peas, carrots, beets, lettuce, spinach, broccoli, and cauliflower. and the garlic we planted last fall is eight inches tall and looks marvelous.

Friday morning at 10:00 am PDST, a couple is coming to look at our house again. We think they must see what we see, and like what we like. The question is, will they like it enough to make an offer? It's a buyer's market, as they say, so we are feeling hopeful but cautious. In the interest of science and influencing outcomes with positive thinking, all you readers out there, send your strongest and best "BUY THE HOUSE" VIBES. And, we'll let you know how it goes.
Other than that, we're being treated to a typical pacific northwest spring. That means unpredictable weather and minus tides. You know how happy that makes us, well at least the tides part of that. We love walking far out along the sandy beach where the bay waters usually roll and lap. It was quiet on Wednesday when the tide stretched all the way to a -2.15. We saw these snails, which we had not seen before. They were in a zone where we usually find large barnacles. We also discovered this little unearthly looking skull. Oh yes, Virginia, there once was an ET.
It's amazing how happy these little things make us. We skip along like children.

Speaking of skipping, I received the test results on the metabolics and Vitamin D lab tests. Everything looks incredibly good except for the the Vitamin D. The normal range (at the lab that ran the tests) is 32 - 100. My level is 13.7. Ouch. In the meantime, I've learned that walking is not enough to really help my bones, I need high impact exercise, like skipping or jumping rope. I was instantly reminded of my life in the 80s when I was a die-hard aerobic exerciser. Roger ripped an old Jane Fonda work-out disk for me, and I've been hopping and skipping, lifting and kicking for a few days. I'm surprised that I can keep at it for a good half hour without dropping dead. I've also increased my Vitamin D intake. Never google Vitamin D and read the varying and wide-ranging opinions about it, if you want life to make sense. The opinions range from conservative (800 iu a day) to ultra-hippie anti-aging nirvana (2000 iu or more). It occurred to me that, philosophically, I am not anti-aging in the least. First of all, I think it's impossible not to age, and second, why not age? It's what we do here on earth while we're breathing and eating, sleeping and blogging. My doctor recommended 800 iu. Most everywhere else recommends more. I'm doing more, but not as much as the people who want to live forever recommend.

Anyway, that's where things are at the moment. Please remember to think positive thoughts about selling our house. Let's try to influence outcomes, okay? Hey, did you notice that Roger wrote the first part of this post? Hey, Rog! Welcome back.

Have a great weekend, friends.

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATEAROONY saturday morning 10 am

thanks for all the good thoughts. it worked!!!!! we have accepted an offer!!!!!

the good part...no contingencies other than the usual inspection and financial stuff.

the more difficult part...30 day escrow. pack up and be gone in 30 days.

Duck Went A-Courtin'

One Word Wednesday: Quack

Life Knocks on the Door...

...and we answer.

We have no excuse for not blogging. Well, except that we've been outside in the warm-ish temps, cleaning up the yard, weeding and prettifying the place. It's a lot of work. There are some clumps of grasses by the pond that take quite a bit of time to remove. Their roots are so weirdly thick, tangled, and deep. Eight hours of weed pulling in two days. I thought of Wayne and his microstegium. I also got sidetracked by a fantastic, brilliant novel by Lydia Millet called How the Dead Dream. I highly and unreservedly recommend it, if you like dense beautiful literature with a drop-dead perspective and a hauntingly perceptive look at the decline of our poor twirling blue planet. All seen through the eyes of a real estate developer, money mogul in southern California.

The duck dramas continue. Wednesday morning there were three mallards (two females and one male) plus one Great Blue Heron together in the pond. I thought it sounded like the beginning of a joke. The heron took off as soon as I got close to the window. The three others took turns in the pond, on the edge, under the feeder, etc. On Thursday, first the lone female showed up and spent several hours. Then she left and the lone male showed up. He stood around quacking, looking for the girl of his dreams. After a while, he took off too. Even the life of ducks is complicated. It all goes on just beyond our radar. Their secret language. I felt like crying when I saw him looking for her. Maybe it's just me, but is life sad, or what?

Lately I've been thinking how we are mostly so incidental to history. Our lives take place in a context, but that context is out of our hands. If I designed things, I swear it wouldn't look like this. Much, much kinder, the world would be. We would understand the secret language of everything.

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No lab test results yet.

I'm writing a response to an inquiry from someone who is writing a book on the 40th anniversary of Woodstock 1969. It's delightful remembering the times.

Roger has been working on a book review for James (Clusterfuck Nation) Kunstler's new book World Made by Hand. It should appear here sometime soon, if he can finally get all the weeds pulled, the moss scraped from the roof, the garden planted, and every loose end completely tied up.

We wish you a great weekend, friends.

Duck Spa

Our pond is very small. It's really a large puddle with a pump and a little waterfall. In real estate jargon, it's called a "water feature." For the past four years there were goldfish in it that reproduced and multiplied just fast enough to keep the pond populated, after the ravenous heron had had its fill in the late fall. This past fall, though, that's not what happened. Only one fish survived. We saw it when we came home from California, but even it disappeared shortly thereafter. The pond bottom has Colorado River rock, smooth and pretty stones in pinks, blues and whites over standard pond black plastic. The rocks are covered right now in probably a half inch of thick muddy muck. Because there are no longer any goldfish, we considered rigging a system to clean the muck out so the pretty rocks could be seen, and potentially be a selling point for someone who is just gaga for ponds with rocky bottoms. We casually talked to the septic inspector about how to get the muck out, and he told us he would sell us a muck-sucker at a great deal, if we wanted it. We said, thanks, but no thanks. We let the muck be.

A good choice as far as these mallards were concerned. They arrived on Saturday and made the pond their private spa and rec center. They snoozed lazily on the ground most of the day, like vacationers on cruise ship lounge chairs, and woke only to take a paddle around in the water, turn their little bottoms up and eat what ever was wiggling and squiggling in that mucky mess. They couldn't have been happier. In fact they celebrated by doing a lovely little courtship dance that ended in wild duck sex right there in the pond. We watched while we were cooking dinner. Entertained mightily, I must say.

As with all creatures if you watch long enough you start to notice details about their particular behaviors. Ms. Duck seemed to not be able to stop moving her wings, even when she was sleeping. There was a constant shaking motion like she was trying to rid herself of pests, and never quite could. We wondered if they had sought refuge in our yard because she had some kind of nervous affliction. Mr. Duck was solicitous of her, and stayed awake to guard while she slept fitfully. They were quite the romantic couple. We thoroughly enjoyed their weekend with us. Something scared them off around 4:00 pm on Sunday. We hope they'll be back. I was already planning on finding their nest, which I was sure they were going build here. We'll keep you posted.

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On a different note:

I would like to thank each of you who left comments on my osteoporosis post. If you are reading here Monday morning around 8:30 am Pacific time, I'm at a lab having blood drawn to measure my Vitamin D levels and a metabolic panel. My doctor took a conservative approach, wanting to see what's going on with my calcium, magnesium, phosphate, etc levels before she prescribes some therapeutic intervention. I greatly appreciated all of the input from your comments. I learned a lot, and I certainly will stay away from bisphosphonates. There are other interventions that I will be exploring. I will say this-- if care and compassion could build bones, then after reading all that you wrote, I would be strengthened for a lifetime. I can not thank you enough for your good wishes.