What's your spark bird?

I learned a new birding term from Roana yesterday: "spark bird," which is "the bird that got you into birding." The cool thing is that I actually HAVE a spark bird; I didn't forget or just wander into birding.

I had always loved birds and nature, but shortly after we moved into the Marsh House in 2005, I was sitting in my back doorway, looking out at the marsh. There was barely any purple loosestrife then, so I could see a lot of little patches of cattails, short marsh grasses, all kinds of things. (sigh) Anyway, I noticed a little group of redwinged blackbirds making some squawking noises and flying in a little area just over the ground. I got my binocs and saw this weird brown bird that looked kinda like a small crane, sticking its long beak straight into the air. I ran and grabbed a book that I'd bought only a couple of months before -- a 1940s edition of Peterson's Field Guide to Eastern Birds. I stared at the bird, looked at the book, stared at the bird, looked at the book -- and ID'd my first bird that wasn't a cardinal or a bluejay or a robin.

Since then, I've seen American bitterns out on the marsh and in Cape May. A very experienced birder I know and respect told me that it's rare to actually see American bitterns because they hide so well. I've seen them lots of times! He also said that there are only 5 confirmed breeding records for this upcoming Breeding Bird Atlas, and that my marsh was the first one. My report!

After that day, I was totally hooked on birding. Shortly thereafter, I started this blog. It makes me smile just to think of it -- my bittern, my little blog, and birds.

What was your spark bird?

Welcome to my world

Note that I added my bloggy pal Splotchy and my new bloggy pal FranIAm to my blogroll; both are well worth a (daily) look. They don't really write about birds, but they write about our world--and isn't that what we're all interested in?

Baba Wawa I ain't

But I did have a great time interviewing Splotchy. Check out his witty, frank, and revealing answers to my insightful questions.

More interviews comin' atcha (the list will be updated as interviews are completed):

Dr. Monkey von Monkerstein

Man, I should get an agent! Or publish my own magazine! Or do my own blog!

oh wait a minute. oh yeah.

Moonlight, foggy night

Interview with a Vampire Vegetarian

My bloggy pal Splotchy's been doing interviews with people, sending them cool, penetrating questions and eliciting thoughtful, compelling answers. Following are the cool, penetrating questions he sent me, along with my answers--you can judge how thoughtful and compelling they are.

1. I see mention of a Mennonite grocery store down the road from you. What makes a grocery store a Mennonite grocery store? Any special products, or absence of products that I should be aware of? Would I be able to get beef jerky there?
The Mennonite grocery store down the road is staffed (mostly) and owned by Mennonites, hence the name. We’re talking ladies in their plain dresses, white aprons, and those little bonnets. It’s like watching Witness at the grocery store (kinda). The actual name of the store is Burkholder’s. I guess that’s a Mennonite name? What do I know, I’m from Texas. As for special products, they have the usual grocery store stuff, though I don’t know about the beef jerky. (I’m vegetarian so I never looked.) You can also buy these Amish-themed books there, like teen romances and stories about young Amish/Mennonite people; most of these books are written by someone named Beverly Lewis. I always wonder if she’s Amish, or just has a really good research assistant. Also, it’s the only grocery store I know of where you can’t buy cigarettes or any tobacco products. I once asked where the cigarettes were (my partner smokes), and the lady behind the counter gave me a look like I’d said, “I just had an abortion in Aisle 7; can you get someone with a mop?”

2. Please describe a favorite unexpected or unplanned bird-watching moment.
My favorite unplanned moments in bird-watching always occur when my partner Kat, who doesn’t like birds because they creep her out, is around. Usually, this happens in the backyard when I’m looking for birds on the marsh behind our house, because she NEVER comes birding with me. One time, I was sitting in the yard watching the birds at one of my feeders when she started screaming, “BIG WHITE BIRD! BIG WHITE BIRD FLYING AWAY!” After I recovered from the heart attack she caused, I turned in time to see a great egret pair – beautiful big white birds – taking flight together. That was nice. And her knowledgeable and poetic description really put a capper on the experience.

3. Are there any birds you see when watching, to whom you would just like to cry "MOVE ON! You are boring and are keeping me from seeing birds of more interest!"
I try not to be a snob to the more common birds, but it does happen sometimes, especially when there’s like 50 grackles hogging up all the birdseed at my feeders, and the little songbirds can’t get in there. It also happens a lot when I’m driving around in the countryside looking for birds, and I see something and slam on the brakes, thinking it’s some cool hawk or falcon, and it’s always a damned pigeon.

4. I really enjoy the many beautiful pictures of your garden, including the occasional pics of food. Which of your home-grown food do you savor the most?
Tomatoes, without a doubt. I’ve always loved tomatoes right off the vine. I rub ’em on my shirt for sanitary purposes, then I eat them – right outside. Eating something you’ve grown yourself, nurtured from the time it was a little seed, is magical to me. As a vegetarian and nature-lover, it just doesn’t get any better. At least until I can grow veggie egg rolls, fried up crispy and golden.

5. I see that your other blog, "Impeachment And Other Dreams" has been dormant for quite some time. Is impeachment no longer a possibility, even the dream of impeachment?
I’ve stopped believing it’s a possibility. I used to listen to news about the latest scandal or lie or crime connected to this administration and think, “okay, THIS is the tipping point! This is IT!” But that tipping point never came; it’s still never come. I just got too discouraged to keep writing about it; that’s when I started the birding blog. It’s easier to keep from throwing up all the time when I just write about birds and stuff. Besides, there are so many great liberal blogs and news sites out there; I just read those and throw up on a limited basis.

Now it's your turn: Here are Splotchy's Rules of Order:
1. If you want to be interviewed, leave me a comment saying "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
And so on, and so on, and so on....

The fall semester begins

"Time in the hand is not control of time...."
-- Adrienne Rich, "Storm Warnings"

I started my calculus class today, the next step toward getting into my desired major: forensic science. All we did today was review old algebra concepts and already I'm lost. I didn't really "get" algebra all that well, and none of those concepts seem to have stuck with me. I am hoping it all comes back soon, and I'm able to get through this class the way I did trigonometry--studying all the time, but doing well and coming out with an A- and ending up on the Dean's List to boot. Kinda silly, that.

As I waited for class to begin, I had a weird thought: I came to class today in shorts and a golf shirt, with the late afternoon sun still high in the sky and a cool breeze blowing a little before 6pm. I realized that before this course is over in December, I'll be coming to class in a heavy coat and boots, under a darkened sky with a bitter wind--and most likely snow--blowing. Class ends at 8, and on this day I drove home and watched the sun set, admiring the moon rising through the pink band of sky known as the girdle of Venus. Soon, it'll be dark by 5, and I'll trudge to and from class in the snow. The weather has to change so much before I am done with this course! The strange thing is, I feel like the days are changing so fast when I look at the sunlight, the birds, the sky, the weather; yet it seems like this semester is stretching out before me like a life sentence in prison, one day after the other, unchanging. How can it be both ways at once?

Time is such a strange thing. The hours of a day can be so cruel, hurrying by when we want them to last but dragging when we just want them to move along. The length of those hours never changes, except in our minds. What seems like a mercilessly unending day to me can, at the very same time, have flown by for you. And we can tell each other of our different perceptions, and it doesn't make a bit of difference.

Makes wearing a wristwatch seem pretty pointless.

I'm an auntie! Again!

My baby sister Nora and her great husband Mike just had her second daughter yesterday! I don't have any pics yet, but I do have some adorable pictures of her first daughter Alyssa, who's so cute that she almost looks like me!

The obligatory bath photo.

Look at that sass!

Congratulations, Nora and Mikey!

Quick link: Must-read

Haven't had the chance to read it all yet, but I wanted to share this article with you.

The Bird Almanac by David Bird

I finally found some time to look through my Bird Almanac; what a fascinating book! For trivia-goobers like me, this book is a veritable gold mine of information. Some highlights:

The New Jersey Audubon Society's World Series of Birding: the first winning team, in 1984, competed for Zeiss Optics and was composed of a few names that might ring a bell: R. T. Peterson, P. Dunne, L. Dunne, D. Sibley, P. Bacinski, and W. Boyle. (the book only gives first initials) I was reminded of the first Olympic basketball team composed of professional athletes, back in 1992, with Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Charles Barkley, David Robinson, Clyde (the Glide) Drexler, and John Stockton on it (and some other guys). Can you imagine going hard-core birding with RTP, Pete Dunne, and David Sibley!? Holy moly. Incidentally, they tallied 201 species to get the win.

Top U.S. ABA World Lister as of January 2002: G. Winter, with 7,716 species. Wow. Only a couple thousand to go, and this person racks up every bird species in the world; it's kind-of hard to even fathom that. My lifelist isn't even to 200 yet.

Top U.S. ABA USA Lister as of Jan 2002: M. Smith, with 907 species out of the total 984 species in the USA. Sheesh. By now, this M. Smith probably has to go to another country just to get a life bird! Can you imagine that?

The common swift can go up to three years without landing. The sooty tern can go from three to ten years without landing! Don't they get tired of flying? I mean, the birds could kind-of float on the breeze for a while here and there, but I'd sure want to sit down after about a year or so.

Assemblages of birds: We've all heard of a murder of crows and a gaggle of geese. But have you heard of these grouping terms?
hawks: boil, screw, cast, kettle (Susan Gets Native -- have you heard of any of these?!)
warblers: yellowing ("there's a yellowing of warblers over in this thicket!" as if.)
flycatchers: zipper (are they just making this stuff up?)
nuthatches: creep (come on, man...)
vireos: cheer (yeah, right)
gulls: galaxy (my leg is getting tired of being pulled)
ravens: unkindness (seriously, that's what the book says: an unkindness of ravens. Indeed.)

I even found a personal connection: Julie Zickefoose's recipe for bluebird food is in the book.
5 parts oatmeal
1 part each of corn syrup, peanut butter, and bacon grease or lard
Mix well, then push into holes in a feeder log. Other birds like it too.
Cool. Who else would they go to for the best bluebird information? Who else but the Science Chimp! Her husband Bill of the Birds also has a blurb on the back cover.

Speaking of Zick, did everyone get a chance to hear her commentary about marriage on NPR yesterday afternoon around 5:30ish? Another driveway moment, compliments of Julie.

The bird also contains all kinds of crazy anatomical and physiological information on birds; some sections, I can't imagine using unless I were in the Jeopardy final round and the category was Birds. (Bet it all!) But some parts--including the chart on length of incubation of eggs, clutch sizes, and other such charts--are really useful. All in all, it's a really great book. This edition was published back in 2004. Still, other than the listing records and award recipients, the facts are still the facts. Thumbs up for David Bird's The Bird Almanac.

Scheduled outage? Huh?

Boy, nothing like seeing this on your blog dashboard:

Farewell, friends!

Quiet Sunday

The birds are strangely quiet this morning, and we're under a cotton-batting sky of solid gray. I heard a catbird's mewing earlier, but now everything is quiet. I'm wondering if the birds know something is coming--a storm, maybe. Do birds sense these things? I would imagine they do, but does it make them get very quiet? I've seen that phenomenon on movies, like just before the big hurricane, all the tropical animal noises stop. But this is Central PA; not much chance of a hurricane.

I went out on the marsh to my migrant-stake-out location and saw. . . nothing. It is colder this morning than it has been, in the upper 50s; maybe that's a contributing factor. Yesterday was beautiful as well, sunny with a high in the low 70s, so we took advantage and finally mowed the lawn and weeded all the garden beds. The front of the house looked like a jungle, with Queen Anne's lace and ragweed reaching up to three feet high.

Yes, I let it get that bad.No, I didn't take a picture; it was too embarassing.

It's all cleared out now, though, and I mowed for the first time in about a month. Neighbor Ed, a compulsive lawn-mower, probably began to cry when he saw me finally starting me up the mower,

One more garden-related note: the Garden Arch, weighed down with morning glory, finally gave up the ghost night before last. I went out to find the metal had completely snapped off at the ground level, and the whole thing had just collapsed. Kat and I worked on clearing that out as well.

Before, a couple of evenings ago, with five-foot Em for scale:

After, yesterday:

It's quite forlorn now, but I imagine those rabid morning glories will take it back over within a couple of days. Meanwhile, I finally cleared out the old lettuce tower (which had grown taller than I am) and all the old bitter lettuce and gone-to-seed cilantro:

Now I can plant some more lettuce and cilantro; I should be able to get some before the cold weather starts.

Here's the collapsed archway, still being strangled by mo-glo's:

That whole thing must've weighed at least 60 lbs; I couldn't lift it, and I can lift 40-lb bags of birdseed without much trouble. The puny little archway (metal, bought on clearance of course at JoAnn Fabrics or someplace--one of Kat's bargain purchases) just rusted and fatigued until it couldn't stand any more. I'm thinking of building a new one out of wood, but then there's the whole pressure-treated thing to deal with. I don't want anything like that near my veggies. I suppose I could get some redwood or cedar; I'll have to price that at the local mega-home-improvement store.

And my beautiful sunflowers, dancing in the breeze:


It's a quiet Sunday here at the Marsh House, and although there are no birds around, I'm not complaining. The weather is cool, there's a gentle breeze, and all seems right with the world. But then, it always seems that way when I'm home.

Hey, I'm blogging again

This is a surprise. As it is, it seems that I took a slightly unanticipated sabbatical from blogging to sort out certain personal issues in my life. I really feel that I've used this time for a combination of meditation and personal reflection in order to solve some of the deeper and more cutting issues of my life - who am I? what do I want to achieve out of my existence? what is my purpose on this revolving sphere we call the planet earth? WHY? And I dunno, I think that maybe I came to some interesting conclusions when asking myself these questions. Conclusions that may shock and amaze you. They did me.

ONLY KIDDING I pretty much spent two weeks spinning around in my revolving chair, holding XXXX-treme drinks parties and basically having one hell of a good time... meh. Like the other day, I had a free house, so I said to myself "I'll invite some friends round, have a few civilised drinks, kick back, enjoy ourselves... it'll be lovely". About eight hours later, I was sat around a table, playing a drinking game that apparently seemed to be called "Clap lots, then if you clap wrong, have a shot". We didn't have enough shotglasses so I found some egg-cups. The shots themselves were made by all the other players of the game, out of the contents of the table, which at that point in the evening was a veritable cornucopia of bottles, cartons, and glasswork. One member of the circle proudly boasted "I haven't lost a single round yet, I'm much less drunk than all of you!" We wiped the smile off of his face by banding together and cheating at the game in order to make him take a shot that was 60% sambuca, 20% bacardi rum, 5% vodka, 5% mango and passionfruit smoothie, 10% milk, with a bit of cereal thrown in at the top to finish the effect. Yeah, we wiped the smile off of his face good.

About eight hours after that, I woke up. The thing about waking up at a house party you've hosted is that you examine the damage and it's like various jigsaw pieces of some enormous puzzle or - to put it more accurately - reading a pulp crime novel. You get the feeling that all of these seemingly random and unconnected events will somehow add together to form some bigger picture; that it would all make sense if only you didn't have such a fucken hangover. Then there's the added confusion of - do I really remember all of this properly? If I had a video recording, would I in fact find out a: The reason for this damage, or b: how the damage came about or c: I'm actually the one who caused the damage in the first place?

It was all very confusing and slightly ominous, and as I progressed further into the labyrinth, my heart sunk. Someone had thrown up red stuff into the toilet. And also on the bottom of the toilet. How do you vomit UP? There were a load of crushed berries inside one of the sinks. Down in the kitchen, all of the chairs were piled up against the front door. There was a hat pinned to the ceiling. Someone had gotten out a breadboard and had covered it in large blobs of Marmite. About a quarter of the kitchen table had gone blue (seriously). There was broken glass all over the floor. There was a crumpled up bit of paper in the middle of it. Gingerly picking it up and unfolding it, I saw that it was a picture of the actress Michelle Monaghan wearing a Santa Claus outfit (if you've seen Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, you'll know what I'm talking about HIGH FIVE); someone had outlined her, drawn a smiley face over her belly and written ANDY ROBERTS in a heart next to her face. I think that ANDY ROBERTS relates to a rowing coach at our school; either that or it was relevant to a former West Indian cricketer, and the evening was a hell of a lot weirder than I gave it credit for. But that wasn't all. Going outside, I found that my little sister's wendyhouse was filled with grafitti. Notable was a picture of a jewish star with the words 'Jewz 4 Life' (nobody at the party was jewish). I stared blankly at it, then accidentally sat on a jar of olives that had been left on the beanbag. How confusing.

Also, somebody poured italian seasoning in my car. Yes. I looked at the car, looked at the tin of italian seasoning, then looked at the guy who was busily trying to erase 'Stocker is gay' from the roof of the wendyhouse (there was nobody at the party called 'Stocker'). "Did you pour italian seasoning in my car?" I asked. He looked sheepish. "Yeah, I thought it'd be funny. And all those berries in the sink were because I picked up some berries and was showing off my flexing abilities by crushing loads of them". He had a point.

After about a month of scrubbing, the house was clean, and I learnt a valuable lesson: You can pretty much do whatever you want when you have a free house, as there will always be enough chemicals under the kitchen sink to hide the evidence from your mother when she comes home. And you shouldn't write a blog explaining the damage that you did to her house. Whatever, I got into Oxford yesterday and got all As in my exams, I'm untouchable. For the moment.

Oh yeah, I got into Oxford, and this - in a roundabout way - explains why I'm blogging right now. Not to show off or boast about the fact that I'm pretty much going to the best uni in all of the Empire (would I do a thing like that?). Mostly because I am going to Oxford THIS OCTOBER. YES THIS OCTOBER. Argh. Thing is, I'd previously been given a gap year. Which I didn't want. So basically I kept pestering Oxford to let me go this year and then FINALLY yesterday I was like "OMG LET ME IN UR COLLEGE I HAS THREE A'Z" and they were like "STFU UR ALREADY ON THE LIST INNIT" and I was like "Wait a second, you say I'm already on the list for 2007 entrants? Yet you've been perservering all this time that I'm going in 2008, a viewpoint that has cost me my girlfriend, my happiness and my sanity?" and they were like "WTF MY BAD". So that was annoying. But the upshot is that I'm going in October. The up-upshot of that is that I have to read the entire reading list in about a month.

The reading list is long. It is hard. It is filled with Victorian authors and girls books (Bronte... boringgggg they should've filled the list with pirate books and, like, porno comics, that'd rule). Added to this is the issue of my reading style. My reading style is that I read two pages, and I fall asleep. I wake up, struggle through another paragraph, then I fall asleep. This has happened with every book I've tried to read since getting into Oxford, and frankly it's beginning to become a teeny bit of a worry for me. This is especially an issue if the book in question begins with the sentence:

Who that cares much to know the history of man, and how the mysterious mixture behaves under the varying experiments of Time, has not dwelt, at least briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa, has not smiled with some gentleness at the thought of the little girl walking forth one morning hand-in-hand with her still smaller brother, to go and seek martyrdom in the country of the Moors?

This book, by the way, is "Middlemarch", by "George Eliot". Unfortunately, the "George" is actually a woman pretending to be a man, or a 'trannie' as they are known in the business. Although, actually, looking at a picture of her, I get the idea that her pretending to be a man wasn't as much as a stretch as you'd originally think...

She is actually a woman pretending to be a man to gain credibility, though. Not the other way round. That's a bit annoying, actually. Like, you look at the list and think "Heyyy, lots of male writers there, this is gonna RULE, lots of testosterone and gunfights and stuff! YEAH!... but then you read it and it turns out its just loads of women in drag who are all like "Oooh, Jamie Statton wants to marry Dot, but she likes Eddy, and then maybe Jamie will like her little sister" AND ITS LIKE FUCKING EASTENDERS. Boo.

Therefore, in order to put off starting to read the reading list, I have been doing many exciting things. Such as:

Starting a logic puzzle

Watching "Only in America"

Getting stuck on the logic puzzle

Watching "Newsround"

Getting briefly unstuck on the logic puzzle, then getting stuck again

Watching "Neighbours"

Filling in one more square on a logic puzzle, realising that it's wrong, and scribbling it out

Watching "The Simpsons"

Drawing out the logic puzzle again on a piece of A3 paper, in a sliiiightly different format, realising that it does nothing to help the situation

Watching "Hollyoaks"

Finishing the logic puzzle; writing YEAH I FUCKING WIN on the page in big letters, then tracing around a metal bottle opener and colouring it in, just to prove my mastery of the logic puzzle.

Going on Facebook and joining the Oxford Facebook Group, writing a resumé of myself, cataloguing and replying to every single one of my facebook messages, drawing grafitti messages on people's walls

Getting a glass of coke

Reading the first sentence of the book out to my little brother in a high pitched voice

Drawing this cartoon:

Working out my mathematical percentages of all of my exam results

Performing a marriage between my Shaun of the Dead and Catwoman action figures so that they are no longer living in sin.

Walking around in circles saying "OK, I have to start reading now, lets go, lets jump into it, lets go"

Sitting down on the sofa, leaping up, chasing my dog around the room until she got dizzy and ran into the wall.

Writing the beginning of this post, up to this point BUT NOW I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO GO READ

Eventually I managed to force down a few chapters. Oh my God. "Force down a few chapters".

DO YOU PEOPLE REALISE THAT I'M MEANT TO BE READING FOR PLEASURE HERE. I'M GOING TO DO THIS FOR THE NEXT THREE SOLID YEARS. I SHOULD NOT BE STUDYING ENGLISH AT OXFORD. I SEEM TO LACK THE FIERY PASSION THAT IS INHERENT IN AN OXFORD ENGLISHER.

Oh well.

Finish the Phrase

I'd love my job if _______________________.

A marsh with a view

Yesterday, whilst on my way to the Mennonite grocery store down the road, Em and I decided to take a quick sidetrip to see what was happening on the marsh behind our house. Unfortunately, one of the big things happening is a full-bore purple loosestrife invasion:

It's as high as six and seven feet in some places, completely obscuring the habitat and choking out a lot of the native grasses. The marsh owners, Greg and Mary Kay Williams, told me they'd started a three-year plan to attack the loosestrife with some sort of beetle that will, over the course of three years, get it under control. We're all hoping these beetles turn out to be safe predators and not become a problem in and of themselves. We shall see....

The beetles have their work cut out for them.

Thanks to our hot and dry summer, the water level has been really low this year, making the long pond the only real water source here, and that only in spots. Note the complete cover of algae here, nicely contrasting with the purple loosestrife:

On a positive note, some early migrants have started arriving, among them some sort of sandpiper which I didn't get a photo of, thanks to the loosestrife. Roana told me that shorebirds migrate pretty early, so she wasn't surprised that I saw a sandpiper. He was small--maybe 5-6 inches. Solitary sandpiper? Wish I'd gotten a photo for a better ID, though thanks to Birdchick's recent Shorebird Immersion Course photos, I at least knew a shorebird when I saw one.

We found lots of tracks on a small stretch of the long pond that indicate birds of all sizes are visiting; here's a sample:

Note that giant one; here it is with my hand for scale:

That must be an adult blue heron, no? Or else it's a pteradactyl or something, because that footprint is BIG.

I also saw a non-bird track:

Is that a possum, maybe? Feet prints and dragged tail? Or maybe a muskrat? Can someone Science-Chimp me, please?

The Canada geese were flying over; their mournful honks are one of my favorite sounds in nature:


Look at this tiny little flower (and my unfiled thumbnail):

What kind of flower is this?

In the deeper-water sections (probably a foot deep or so), we saw several muskrats, including this guy who decided to charge us:

I like the way his little head cut a vee in the water, darkened by the setting sun's fading light.

Also hard at work was this little bee, who was completely oblivious to the camera less than a couple of inches away from him:


He was concentrating on that pollen, I guess.

Finally, I decided to scout a good location for later this week, so I could go back, maybe set up a photo blind I'm working on, and take photos of the migrants and residents who'd left their tracks in the muddy flats of the long pond. This looks like a good vantage point:

I think Roana and some other people, including a guy who's really good at IDing shorebirds, are coming out tomorrow to see what's hanging around the marsh. Hard to believe that the fall migration has already started for some birds; I keep mentioning it to Kat and she keeps telling me to "stop talking dirty!" -- she hates the cold weather, preferring the heat of summer to the chill of fall and winter, so she's refusing to look at the signs of the coming seasonal change and doesn't appreciate my pointing them out.

Oh, one more exciting thing: I got a new bird book, The Bird Almanac: A Guide to Essential Facts and Figures of the World's Birds by (interestingly enough) David M. Bird. This edition was released around 2003, so the sections on "world record lists" and stuff like that are out of date, but there's a lot of material on nesting, breeding, behavior, etc. and I can't wait to dig into it. Of course, I went and left it at my friend Matthew's house so I've only given it a cursory look, but I'm getting it back tomorrow when we go to Matthew's for dinner. I'll fill you in on its usefulness. Does anyone else have this book?

I'm hoping my next blog entry will document some great photos of birds. Wish me luck!

Post #175 and a new addition

My new bloggy pal Splotchy has a neat idea: giving starving character actors nice homes by adopting an actor! The mind reels at the possibilities:

1. Natalie Portman? She's cute, she's vegetarian, and I loved her in V for Vendetta. She'd probably love Niblet and the kitties. But she's probably rollin' in dough after the Star Wars movies....

2. Dame Judith Dench?
I loves me some Judy Dench. Wrenching dramatic role? No problem. Whimsical comedy? Easy peasy. Regal royal? P-shaw! Conniving closet case? Been there, done that. Still, perhaps a younger actor might be easier to deal with, someone not quite so set in her ways. I mean, what if she leaves toothpaste in the sink? Who's gonna tell her not to? Not me, sister.

3. I GOT IT: Hugo Weaving! Loved him as the voice of Rex in Babe(one of my favorite movies of all time), adored him as Lord Elrond in the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and feared him as Agent Smith in The Matrix. He's the guy!

Now he'll finally have a place to call home, instead of sleeping on the streets or in fleabag motels in between auditions and open calls. No more waiting tables, Hugo! No more insecurity about making rent! You'll have a loving, stable home from which you can jet to NYC or LA for those auditions! Welcome to your new family!

I feel all warm inside, just knowing I've done a good deed and spread some love into a dark and desperate life. *sigh*

"Sophia's" (???) Party (Saturday 4h August 2007)

Oh God it was horrible. You know those cabinets you get at the museum that are basically there to amuse the weirdoes, and they have all of the weird mutated stuffed animals; like two headed cats and penguins with giant lips and duck-billed platypuses? Right. This was what this party was like. It was as though some wealthy twisted billionaire had collected all of the odd looking people in the Ashford area and then forced them to all sit in a room somewhere and nervously look at each other while sipping warm alcohol.

I know what you are going to say. 1: 'Judge not lest ye be judged' and 2: 'If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. You are being shallow' and 3: 'Well YOU were at the party too so that surely makes YOU a freak too Thomas'. And my responses to those statements are:

1: You are not allowed to simply quote from the Bible to back up your argument, which is in this case 'Be nice to ugly people'. I mean, I could do it too. Like, uh, you know that bit in the Bible when Jesus cures all of those guys with leprosy? I dunno how, he probably looks at them really hard and a beam of red light comes out of his forehead like in Firestarter or something. But anyway, Jesus is the only guy who goes near the lepers, the rest of the villagepeople are like woah get the hell away from me man, and they make the lepers go and sit out in the cold outside of the town. Do the villagers get PUNISHED by Jesus for shunning the lepers? I don't know, but I'll make an educated guess that he doesn't napalm down their town or something, so they more or less get off scott free. Jesus probably says 'Look, you have to be nice to the lepers, and if you have superpowers like me you can cure them and then they can be fine!' and the villagers are all like cool jesus, my bad. I guess my point is that, if the people at these party were lepers, I'm more than willing to be one of the villagers who shuns them and writes mean blogs about them and makes them wear bells round their neck and live outside the village. I'll happily stand in the crowd and cheer as Jesus comes and cures them of their general weirdnesses, and then I will be their friends. HOWEVER I'm not gonna USURP Jesus's role and try to cure them myself. What am I, some kind of blasphemer? Pfft.

2: I am shallow, yes. Shallow as YOUR MUM. I am also immature. Your MUM is immature. Your MUM doesn't have anything nice to say.

3: I WASN'T PROPERLY INVITED. I kind of tagged along with Amy [who is my new sidekick] as I was bored. Now some of you might say 'Well you were a loser that even the freaks didn't want you', but I say that I think of it as more akin to a scientist tagging along with some soldiers on an expedition into the middle of the jungle to study rare orchids or spiders or something. I don't know.

What I DO know was that within three seconds of entering the house with Amy I was being asked to sign a cake.
"Go on!" enthused the hostess lady, who was actually very nice (although she had a bit of a square head and bore an unpleasant resemblance to a fatter version of my ex...), "It's for Chris's birthday!"
"Who. Is. Chris." I mumbled, staring blankly at the homemade cake, which looked like an unleavened green brick.
"It's his birthday today! This was meant to be a small surprise party but someone told him so I just invited LOADS of people!" she gestured madly around the room. There were three people there, all of whom were staring quietly into space. Other than me and Amy where was nobody else in the house.
"... a few more people might come later," added the hostess, who was called Sophia (I think... it might have been Sonya thinking about it). "But let me introduce everybody!"
There were three people in the room to meet, all of whom had utterly forgettable names, but who were all fascinating to look at due to their various oddities. The first was a guy called. I can't remember I think it was Paul. But his head was shaped EXACTLY like a coconut. And his hair was short and spikey, so he looked like a combination between a cartoon Steve Pemberton and a monkey. He was like grunt. The second was a really really fat guy who was wearing a glasses, a volumous faded pink polo-shirt that was pooled with sweat, and khaki shorts. He also had a haircut that looked like two toupees glued together. He told us all a fascinating story that was along the lines of "Well my cricket team was due to play here today... AND THEY DID!", and everyone cheered and high fived and did jumping chest bumps and then talked about how great it was to all work at Thorpe Park. Oh yeah this was a party filled with people who worked at Thorpe Park. Unfortunately, none of them knew my crazy friend Emily which was a shame.
The third was a girl and she was actually alright looking. Now, we all know me - THE VAGINA HUNTER, and I was like heyyyyyy EVEN THOUGH I HAD COME WITH AMY - that's what kind of a cad I am! Anyway, the hostess introduced me as "Uhh... Tom?" and then introduced HER as "Paul's Susan". I made up the names because I instantly forgot them the instant I heard that but you get the drift. The fact that EVEN WHEN SHE IS INTRODUCED she got paired with a guy meant that frankly I was like 'Sorry babe but nothing can happen between us'.
After that everyone stared blankly into the air. I picked up a plastic wrapper for some balloons and read the safety instructions. "Are there any under eights here? Because if so, they shouldn't be allowed to hold this bag."
Nobody said anything. Amy giggled nervously.
Then there was a commotion, and THE GROTESQUE walked in. I call her THE GROTESQUE (in capitals) because I never caught her name, and frankly, because she was fucking grotesque. The thing about fat teenage girls is that usually they know how to deal with it. Either they have a natural flair that lets them carry it. Or they dress well and you don't notice. Or they have pretty faces. Or, failing all of that, the fatness at least means that they have MASSIVE boobs that kind of distract you from the "Eugh" of the cellulite-infested legs and big round bellies. These things are true. Unfortunately, THE GROTESQUE had none of these things going for her. Firstly, she was fat. Not like BALLOON fat, because then you can say "Well being fat is like, her thing, her modus operandi, so she can't really be disappointed"; not big enough to fulfill the desires of some fetishist. But just tubby. However, her choice of clothing was like some peach coloured strappy top thing that was like half a colour shade away from her flushed pink cheeks so she looked like a big peach - Veruca Salt's long lost Downes Syndrome brother. She also had no tits, which I feel was just a piss-take on God's behalf. Secondly, she was ugly. She had a baby-face with thinning old-lady hair and one of those craven smiles that show teeth that are all slightly pointed and slightly too far apart. Oh, and braces, which topped off the whole Quasimodo effect perfectly. I wouldn't describe myself as particularly HOT STUFF (although, girls DO dig my "Ask me why Dairy Farming matters" badge, so hmmm...), but seriously. I looked at this girl and I thought to myself 'Jesus Christ. If I had to get up and look at that in the mirror every day, I honestly don't know if I'd want to go on living'. She honestly reminded me of like, some queer monster kept in the basements of some Russian abbey far off in the mountains and every year they take it out and lead it around the village on a lead to show the townspeople the dangers of temptation to Satan [yeah right... what do I know about Russian culture? Pfft]
Of course, I could be accused of being shallow and just concentrating on her visuals. I know this, and so I'm going to add the rider that she had the ugliest fucking voice I have ever heard. It was like pure on nails-on-a-blackboard screech. "SONYAAAAAAAAAA! SONYAAAAAAAAAA! SONYAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" she cawed into the air, cackling and scratching her head. She had some sidekick who didn't do much but had one of those faces that SHOULD be hot but for some reason just isn't. It's like when you see those pictures of hot looking women on the internet and there's always something odd about them, then you find out later that it's just a photo of Myra Hindley photoshopped with different hair and lipstick. Eugh.
Anyway, THE GROTESQUE and MYRA (yeah right, like I even bothered to get HER name in the first place) 'kicked off' the party by bursting in and demanding Malibu, which they proceeded to guzzle down with Dr Pepper.
"AHHH SONYAAAA I'M SILLY INNIT!" gargled THE GROTESQUE, probably hawking up the half-digested remains of the raw pigeon she had murdered and eaten for her supper. "WE'RE GONNA GO GET A KEBAB!"
And so off they went, followed by coconut-head Paul, who looked smitten. Well, horses for courses, I guess. When she was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief and allowed the utterly horrified expression to leave my face, just for a second. However, at this point, the circus (sorry I mean 'party') had JUST GOT STARTED! YEAH!... and so in trooped a collection of new fun faces, such as...

TALL SIMON
This was his actual name. His name was Simon. And he was very tall. His hair was like, three shades of blonde and kept waving and interlooping. He also kept attempting to awkwardly flirt with Amy. Like he'd poke her every time he walked out of the room. And then he tried to hug her and she just stared at him. It was great as Amy basically does whatever I tell her so I was like AMY GO AND HUG THE MAN. So she did which left me free to wander into the other room and look at the party snack table.

It was, I suppose, in line with the rest of the party, serving - as it did:

Ale flavoured crisps (yes)

Rasberry jam tarts

Ground Cumin.

Ground Cumin, for those who do not know, is (according to Wikipedia, that Mecca of information) "the dried seed of the herb Cuminum cyminum, a member of the parsley family... a key component in both chili powder and curry powder." It is NOT, tradititionally, a tasty party snack. However it had been placed on the table next to the party poppers and party blowers. However, pride of place on the table went to the small model of a long nosed gnome/elf/goblin monster that had been placed lovingly next to the crisps. It was probably one of the more hideous things I've ever seen (and I have seen my best friend Steph throwing up her own stomach after a four day mescalene-ether binge); its glassy eyes and weird dead hangdog expression cut directly into my soul and made me want to throw up. So I stole it and put it in the fridge:

Unfortunately, Myra and THE GROTESQUE saw me through the window (they had been hiding behind it and then jumping up and roaring to scare people). They kind of tottered into the kitchen and were like WE SAW YOUUUUU HA HA HA LOL. As they walked towards me it was honestly like Resident Evil 4 and I kept hoping for a green 'Suplex' button to appear above my head. Unfortunately no such thing happened and I was saved from having to actually respond by Sophia/Sonya/Whatever coming in and introducing some new people - "This is JP and Amstill!"
They were cool dudes. Unfortunately, I was like WHAT? and she was like JP and Amstill and i was like WHAT and she was like John and Amstill and i was like WHAT and she was like john and james :(. They looked a bit annoyed that their veneers of cool had been shattered and so they all trooped off to the garden. At this point the rest of the party had filled up with ugly people who were all talking about how great it was to work at Thorpe Park. I sank down next to the sink, feeling emotionally exhausted. THE GROTESQUE suddenly popped up at the window and leered at me like something out of the Shining and I tell you I nearly had a heart attack. I fell to the floor, feeling defeated. Amy came back into the room. Tall Simon poked his head through the kitchen window. "HEY AMY COME OUTSIDE WE ARE ALL PLAYING NEVER NEVER WOULD I EVER!" he said joyously. Amy gave a kind of half-laugh grin thing that clearly said "Never never would I ever go outside to play never never would I ever."
I sat on the chair. I looked at Amy. Amy looked at me.
"Shall we just leave without saying goodbye?" I asked without much hope - girls NEVER agree to this.
"Yeah."
I was like :-o woooooo. So with no further ado, we drew a penis on the cake, hid the gnome thing in the coffee maker, then fled the house. Unfortunately, as we were driving away, a horrifying sight greeted our eyes. THE DENZIENS OF THE PARTY WERE TOTALLY CHASING US! Kind of like in the film 'Freaks', they were all like, sliding on the floor and stumbling and lurching and moaning, trying to make us one their own. My heart dropped - would we ever escape?


(Ten points if you can identify them left to right)

Ten minutes later I was scraping the brain matter off of my shoe as we sped into the distance.

We had escaped the party of freaks for now - but who knew what lay ahead?

The End.

(To be fair, I am probably being over the top harsh as I did actually drink her alcohol and steal her ale flavoured crisps, and everyone WAS very nice. The hostess girl was luvvvvverly. On the other hand, I am never going to see any of these people ever again. So fuck em)

A new feature

In an attempt to jazz up my blog a little, I've added a link to my sidebar. Each Friday, I'll link to a different political blog--whatever is entertaining me at the moment. This week, I'm featuring Princess Sparkle Pony's Photoblog. If you've always wanted a way to keep up with this fast-actin', democracy-promotin', disaster-relief-givin' administration of ours, not to mention Condi's latest hairstyle, the Princess delivers all the important photos of the day.

Note: not for the faint (or conservative) of heart.

Now I know what you're thinking--THIS is "jazzing it up"??? What can I say? I'm no web designer. It took me about an hour just to put that paragraph about Cape May and the Bird Blogger Confo out there on my sidebar....

Finally, sunflowers!

The giant sunflowers have finally stopped trying to be skyscrapers and have instead set some beautiful blooms. Here they are, trying to get some water:

Look at that one on the right, at least a foot taller than all the other guys. Over-achiever.

I also checked on my pears, growing bigger by the week!


The tomatoes are finally ripening, usually two or three per day, which is the perfect complement to my lunches. Here's a little gaggle of 'em:

Er--can they really be called a gaggle? I think that's for geese....

Julie the Science Chimp featured a new (and ooky) roach on her blog, so when I found this little specimen, I figured I'd share too:


Not much new about a big ol' tomato hornworm, but if it hadn't been for those white parasitic wasp eggs (larvae?) on there, I never would've seen the three worms that were munching on my 'Sweet Million' plant. Jerks! Go, you little waspies, go! I realize that parasitism from the inside out must be a terrible way to die, but the hornworm is a pest. Perhaps they're ichneumon wasps? That's the only species of parasitic wasp I know the name of.

Finally, I leave you with two indoor photos:

1.
Why haven't you started growing cat food, like I've asked you to? Is a pond with a few fishies in it too much to ask? Sheesh.

2.
One of the man-leg-sized zukes, who hopped off the plant, walked himself in into kitchen, and is now downstairs having a cold one. As the late great Steve Irwin would say: "Crikey! Look at the size of 'im! Isn't 'e a beauty?"

Cape May info at Birdchick's blog!

So I've been in minor-panic mode since I started investigating the details about going to Cape May this fall. I emailed Mary at Mary's View, hoping for advice on what package to pick, where to stay, etc. etc. You know this is only my second birding festival, and my first fest was scary enough -- and it was just a fledgling one out in the wilds of PA. Cape May is HUGE! and my previously documented fear of getting details wrong played a big part in my eyes-glazed-over reaction to the registration form for the Fall Weekend. If Kat were coming along, I'd feel oh so much safer, but she'll be doing grad-school stuff, so I'm on my own. Eek!

Then this morning I checked Birdchick's blog as I do every morning, and lo and behold--a light in the storm! Thank you Birdchick!

If you're even CLOSE to Cape May, and you'd like to meet some hardcore birders (and some not-so-hardcore birders, I'm sure), check out the Cape May Autumn Weekend web site. Hope to see you there!

Why, why, why?

Installment No. 2 in my questions for answering. Feel free to answer, and/or to raise your own questions.

1. Am I the only person who, when I'm waiting for a bus/plane/etc., has to look at my ticket, look up at the bus/gate number, look back at the ticket, look back at the number, look around to make sure no one else is looking at me, look back at the ticket, look back at the number, look around to see if anyone else is feeling a little lost so I can ask them if this is indeed the right bus/plane, etc. etc.

2. What is it called when you do what I mentioned in #1?

New Feature: Finish the Phrase

I've been thinking about this for some time now, as a way to amuse myself. I'll start a sentence and you finish it. Easy, no? Here we go...

E=mc2 means __________.

KIDDING! Seriously, here we go:

The Pythagorean Theorem states that ____________.

KIDDING AGAIN! hee hee hee! Sorry, but this is making me giggle. Okay -- really, now -- seriously. Here is your first real Finish the Phrase:

I feel really old when ___________.

Fire away.