Blue Bird

A pair of blue birds started a nest in the birdhouse that Sydney built last summer. I was waiting to see if any birds would decide to build their nest in the brand new house on the big Ponderosa Pine tree. And I was delighted when I saw blue birds coming and going from it.

First they entered and stayed awhile and then a couple of weeks ago there was a flurry of activity and some very faint peeping eminating from up there. Almost any time of day I could look out at the bird house and see the comings and goings of the parent birds. They worked tirelessly all day long finding insects for the now loud and clammering baby birds. I finally concluded that is why we can hear birds early in the morning as soon as there is a hint of light in the sky; they have to get busy and feed their hungry babies.

The days continued and the parent birds spent all of the daylight hours finding food for their offspring. I wanted to get a picture of the beautiful birds with the blue wings but whenever I came near the birdhouse they stayed away only to return when I moved away.

One day I noticed that there was no chirping and no activity at the house on the tree. I was suprised that the little birds had grown up and flown away so quickly and also disappointed that I never got a good picture of them. Then a couple of days later I was doing some trimming of a lilac bush at the bottom of the big pine tree when I noticed something on the ground face down. It was an adult blue bird with bright blue wings laying there cold and dead.

A sadness came over me as I removed the bird and prepared a proper burial spot for it. I thought of it's constant care and total dedication to it's babies. Nothing could deter it from it's duties, nothing except death; a death that might have been brought on by it's own exhaustion or deprivation. A creature like that deserves a proper burial, don't you think? So there it lays among the flowers in a small grave lined with flat rocks and cushioned with large lilac leaves from branches freshly trimmed.

Attacked by a Deer

It was December 27Th and a balmy 42 degrees outside, so I decided to walk down the hill about 1/4 of a mile and get the mail. Just as I reached the mailboxes I heard a noise behind me. It sort of sounded like a baby calf. To my surprise it was an almost full-grown deer! And it was standing about 10 feet away, looking at me. I remembered the deer Jack was telling us about, the one that followed him home a couple of weeks ago, so I figured it was the same one and that it was tame. I removed the mail from the box (a late Christmas card and the January Ensign) then walked over to the deer. It stood there while I petted it on the head, the ears and the back. I noticed, and felt, the stubby little beginnings of antlers on it's head.

Well, that's nice, I thought as I headed back up the hill toward home. I glanced back occasionally to see what the deer was doing and it was following me slowly. Each time I looked back it was a little bit closer and pretty soon it's head was right behind mine! Luckily I had the Ensign magazine and I used it to whack the deer on the nose. It backed off a little bit so I continued on. The next thing I knew something was touching my shoulders. I whirled around to see the deer reared up on it's hind legs, it's head now towering over me and it's hooves at eye level.

This scenario happened several times before I reached the house where I finally dared to turn my back on my attacker one last time and make a final dash for the front door.

Once inside, I grabbed the camera and some grapes from a bowl that was on the kitchen counter. Somehow I had to get a picture, so back outside I went. The deer had gone around to the back of the house by then. I walked up close and put the grapes on the snow covered ground. I felt a little safer when it's attention was turned to eating the grapes and was able to snap a few photos.

A Creature of the Night

I lock the kitties up in the barn every night because of the coyotes, killer owls, raccoons and other dangerous creatures of the night. Well, last night I went out to the barn just before I went to bed to turn off the fan that brings cool air in through the window. Suddenly, hearing something, Teddy jumped up on the kitty house to look out the window. I thought I heard a growling noise and wondered what Teddy could be growling at. But Teddy wasn't growling and neither was Buddy or Patsy. Again I heard the low, powerful growl and I could tell it was coming from outside the window in the dark night.

Yikes, I thought, my hair beginning to stand on end. I'm trapped in here surrounded by some unknown, very bold and probably dangerous animal. I have no telephone, no car, not even an axe or shovel. (the shovel was leaning against the wall of the barn, outside)

I made my way cautiously over to each window peering out for a glimpse of any movement or any ominous shadow. Not seeing anything, I grabbed a weapon, the broom. It was either that or the snow shovel. Slowly opening the door I looked out making sure that my escape route to the house was clear. While I was getting up my nerve to leave the safety of the barn the unthinkable happened. Teddy brushed past me and with one leap was gone into the dark.

Luckily the movement triggered the motion sensor lights at the top of the barn to come on and with super-human speed I was able to run after and catch brave (or should I say, stupid) Teddy and whisk him back to the safety of the barn. What was he thinking!

Back in the house, I still had an eerie feeling that something was outside lurking. I closed all the blinds and made doubly sure all doors were locked.

I remembered all the times, though the past six years, that I've gone out into the pitch black night searching for Teddy up and down the road and through trees and bushes. All I ever carried was a flashlight. I'll be taking my shotgun with me from now on if I have to venture outside at night.

The Kitty Trail

I went for a walk on the 'Kitty Trail' yesterday evening around sunset. It had been a hot day in a whole string of hot days and it was finally cool enough to be outside for any length of time. The 'Kitty Trail' is a little trail that goes up a little knoll in front of our house and then looks down the other side on the valley below. I gave it that name because I used to have kitties who would go on walks with me, and that's usually the way we went. Now days, I take the trail mostly by myself (lazy kitties). Anyway, last evening as I was walking to the top of the knoll I noticed small foot prints in the sandy soil. They were evenly spaced and about a foot and a half apart. Then I suddenly noticed that the tracks were spaced about four feet apart. I couldn't imagine how a small person, possibly an older child, could have such a long stride. Just at that moment I heard a very high pitched buzzing and noticed that my head was engulfed in a huge swarm of flying insects. They were buzzing in my ears and trying to go up my nose. I began swatting and as I ran I realized that my foot steps matched the tracks on the trail, the ones that were four feet apart.

What's Missing Now?

During the last few weeks a lot of items around the house have come up missing. First, it was the silver pie server, which has been gone for a couple of months. I like to make pies and I really miss that nice big shiny pie server that matches the beautiful silverware Roger's mother gave the family many years ago.

And I've noticed recently that I cannot find the Stake Telphone Directory. I use it sometimes when I do the Sunday bulletin.

One missing item that has gotten me into trouble is the family calendar which has everyone's birthday on it. I've had to mail a few "Sorry This is Late" cards.

I needed the latest Ensign Magazine last month to look up the Visiting Teaching message and not only was it gone, but all of the recent Ensigns had vanished.

Now the latest items, nowhere to be found, are two heat bags (the kind you warm up in the microwave and apply to sore muscles and other achey places) Oh, and I forgot to mention that we can't find Roger's hair brush.

I know it's normal to lose things once in a while that you eventually find, but these items are adding up and none of them are turning up!

Being a known sleepwalker, who tends to rearrange things at night, I have my suspicions as to who is responsible for the mysterious disappearances. Roger is just hoping that some day soon I'll find my little stash.

Little Prisoners

I stopped by PetSmart to pick up another kitty brush since the other one disappeared from the back porch. (very suspicious) I studied the wall of kitty brushes...all sizes, shapes, colors, and purposes. Finally selecting a medium sized pink one I headed for the cash register. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a row of cages against the distant wall. I didn't intend to seek out the pets that day. I didn't even know PetSmart sold pets. And before I knew what happened I found myself headed for the cages and the little kitty cats each one contained.

Most of the prisoners were kittens, some half-grown, and some tiny, but all of them adorable. I could barely contain myself as I watched their furry little bodies, sleeping, trying to play in the cramped conditions or just sitting there looking at me through the bars.

I had only stood there for a few seconds when one little orange kitten got up from his bed, stood at the bars and looked at me right in the eyes as he cried. He reminded me of Zeke, a kitty I have at home. And it broke my heart to see him begging me to rescue him from that awful place. I already have four kitties at home, I couldn't possibly think of making it five!

As we stood there with our eyes locked, both of us close to tears, I knew it was truly a crime for little kittens to be locked up unable to run and play and with no one to love and pet them. So with a heavy heart, I told the little orange kitten I was sorry and left to go pay for the brush.

It's been a few days now but I still think about the little orange kitten, hoping he got adopted and wondering if I should go check.; )

Cherry Thief

In case you can't tell this is a picture of a little pile of pie cherry pits. What few cherries my tree did produce this year were taken down one by one and eaten in the same place at the foot of the tree by a red-breasted robin thief.