Thanking the bird

Turkey photo shamelessly stolen from Lynne's Hasty Brook

Tomorrow is an interesting day for a birder. Many birders are meat-eaters, and thus will eat the Thanksgiving turkey as is traditionally done in this country. However, some of us (like me) are vegetarians -- for all kinds of reasons, personal to each of us.

Some of the biggest reasons I'm a vegetarian are ecopolitical, but some are just personal preference and my own emotions. Here are a couple of my reasons for going veg:

1. the mass production of meat and meat products strains our environment in many ways. Perhaps you've heard of CAFOs, or Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations. These are your factory farms like Tyson Chicken or your large beef producers. You can find out more about them from the EPA, the CDC, or a more politically minded organization like this one. In short, it is my belief that CAFOs are bad news. Others may disagree, and they're free to do so.

2. I love farm animals. They're furry and cute, and their little lives are just as precious to me as those of birds, rabbits, cats, dogs, and other animals. I know that I couldn't slaughter an animal for food, so why would I ask someone else to do it for me and then package it in a nice little plastic tray to assuage my conscience?

3. I don't buy that whole predator/prey thing. I realize it's the law of nature, and raptors have to kill songbirds to survive, etc. But I have free will. I choose not to kill anything with a face just so I can eat, especially when there are plenty of plant-based foods I can eat instead.

Anyway, those are my own personal reasons; I don't try to convince others to believe as I do, because eating is a personal decision. Still, I must confess that I think it's weird that birders would eat chickens, turkeys, or other fowl. Once again, as is common on the bloggy, my naivete is gonna show here, but when I was growing up, I guess I never connected the "duck" in a dish like Peking Duck with the little mallards, wood ducks, and canvasbacks that I love to watch through my binocs. And the geese! Poor brants and Canadas, their lonesome honks silenced, end up on people's dinner plates? How could a birder watch a songbird or a wild turkey, noting field marks and marking the bird on the lifelist, but then go eat one for dinner?

Sheesh. That's just weird to me. Still, I guess my hope is that tomorrow, when you're being thankful for life, love, family, and other such things, you'll remember to thank the little guy (or gal) on your table too. Do it for me, okay?

My favorite bird songs and calls

1. Wood thrush
2. Spotted sandpiper
3. American widgeon
4. Wild turkey
5. Virginia rail

Brought to you by the grippingly exciting Magical Typing Fingers.

Lolzing the dayz awayz

Baldies abound!

I saw another bald eagle last night near work, but I didn't have my camera with me. That's twice lately that I've seen a baldie on Rt 220 near work. Cool! Here's the first time, in case you don't recall.

"Life forward" update: Matty has an interview on December 5 at Sonoma State! He's one of five candidates being interviewed. They've asked him to stay the weekend as well so he can look around--which means they really want him! He's very excited, and so am I! I'm not out buying a field guide for western birds just yet, but this could really happen!

I was checking the weather there this morning, after coming into work in 22-degree cold:
Not bad, not bad at all! I could certainly deal with such mild winter temperatures. (Actually, I really don't mind the cold as long as it's snowing. If it's gonna be wintry and cold, bring on teh snow!) It's probably not very humid out there either. Wonder how hot it gets in the summer--any West Coasters out there?

Meanwhile, a friend of mine is suffering a bird-related problem: a mockingbird has taken up a perch right outside his bedroom window. And the mocker sings all night. Poor David looks sleepy all the time now, and he's threatened to buy a gun. When I looked aghast, he claimed it was "just to scare him!" Uh-huh. Any suggestions?

I just got invited to a winter birding trip with my atlassing friend Roana and her birding parents as well as some other people in the State College Birding Club. We'll be going to Ocean City, MD, and the Delaware area. It's not until February, so I'll be able to take some vacation days (mine for this year are all used up!) and relax, leaving Friday and returning sometime late Monday. Maybe I'll even be able to hook up with my friends Liz and Jeff Gordon in Delaware! However, I don't think I'll be driving, so it'll be a matter of where we are and when. More about this trip as it gets closer.

Meanwhile, not a lot of bird action, but we've definitely been having the cold. Here's a snowcloud snowing at sundown onto downtown State College, as seen from near my workplace in Pleasant Gap:
I took this with my phone camera from my moving car, so pardon the quality. Right at the base of the snow, you can see the lights of Beaver Stadium.

I tried to pull over for a better photo, but a bunch of cars were behind me and they didn't seem to get that flashers mean "go on by!" I didn't want someone to stop behind me and come to my window and say, "are ya broke down there, little lady?" (I HATE being called "little lady"--that's the fastest way to a swift kick in the crotch from me), so I slowed down a little, opened my window, and shot a couple of photos. Still it was a cool scene, watching the snow in the sunset. It almost looks like a huge tornado, doesn't it?

Life forward

Don't know whether I've mentioned it or not, but come August '09, I'm leaving State College. That would've been the time I left with Kat, and it's when Matty McMatterson will be leaving for his job (wherever that may be), and I feel like I should leave then--so Matty and I have decided to depart this little burg together. It'll be like a couple hire, only we're not a couple! I don't really belong in Central PA, having come here only as Kat's partner, so in the waning days of the summer of 2009, I'll be migrating to another (hopefully boreal or shoreline) habitat.

So this week, Matty got the first bite on his hook: Sonoma State in sunny California! (Hope I'm not jinxing him!) The idea of living in California is exciting -- a whole new field guide full of birds to learn! Wine Country! A year-round growing season! I've never been in that part of California, but I'm sure it's nice. Anyone have any info to offer, just in case?

Our other possibilities are also along the "edges" of the country; neither of us will live anyplace in what Matty calls "the fly-over states" in the middle. Here are the states/cities in which we might live, depending on Matty's job offers:
Atlanta, GA--interesting, but HOT
any number of places in Massachusetts--which would be lovely
San Francisco, CA--which would RAWK!
Chicago, IL--which I've heard is a great city
Buffalo and any number of other places in New York, but not in NYC--which would also be lovely
I think that covers the apps he's sent out so far. One job posting was rescinded due to budget cuts and the economy, which is scary. Still, I hope he gets a sweet job in a neat town with some good schools in it.

Right now, our plans are to pack up and move to wherever and find an apt or house where we can both fit for a while. By springtime, we'll know where we're going and whether I'll be able to continue my education (depends on schools available), so I'll apply for financial aid and apply to a school, etc.

Remember that whole forensic science thing I wanted to do? I think I've changed my mind. I would much rather do something outside and bird-/nature-involved, so I will likely get some sort of environmental resource management degree so that I can work someplace where I can restore/maintain habitats for animals and plants. I'd be Delia Gets Native!, working (probably for the government) to make sure that birds and other species are able to live well.

Or I'll stick with forensic science. Depends on the school. And who knows? Maybe there will be soooo many jobs available wherever we end up that I'll just decide to work someplace and be a townie! That's the positive "Obama = Recovery!" thinking there. Work with me.

Life sure can have its ups and downs. Things are going well right now, with the help of my wonderful friends (both here and out there on the intertubes), and work is -- well, it's work. I'm busier than ever there, which is a good thing.

Next year holds quite a few unknowns and "depends on..."s for me, but I'm strangely optimistic. And if these plans don't work out, I'm sure my parents will take me in... at least for a little while! But I'd rather not go back to Texas; it would seem like going backward in my life, you know? So while I'd love to live near my parents, we'll just have to see what happens.

I'm hoping to scrape together some savings here in time for the move, so that I'll be able to eat. Otherwise, those of you I know in the area of wherever we move, you might find you've been invaded by a little-known but rather larger-than-usual pest that doesn't eat too much, is fairly neat, and likes to watch birds.

Maybe I’ll be asked to speak at the Union

I was ambushed last night. I was walking along the road, contentedly gazing into the abyss, when I passed a group of students, amongst them a few acquaintances. Now you know me, all social interaction terrifies me (eg: my college mother described me as ‘borderline autistic’ last week), so I sort of murmured ‘Hello’ as quietly as I could and scurried towards my den; but before I was five feet away a voice yelled my name. I turned round to see a stylishly-dressed man I didn’t know sprinting towards me with a manic glint in his eyes. I was in the process of deciding whether to turn and flee or kickbox him in the throat, and I had just about reached my decision when he leapt upon me, enveloping me in a tight bear hug. I literally didn’t know what to do. Attractive strangers were throwing themselves at me in the street; this was a new experience. The thought ‘This must be how Russell Brand feels’ floated momentarily through my brain.

“I’m sorry, that was probably inappropriate,” sang my attacker jovially, releasing me. My response was to take a big step back and squint suspiciously at him.
“Tom, James is like your BIGGEST FAN!” enthused one of the girls. “He’s like obsessed with your blog. He linked it on his site. He gets 600 visitors a day.”

Right. Firstly, I’ve seen ‘Misery’. I know what happens the moment you meet your ‘BIGGEST FAN’. You wake up tied to a bed with a three hundred pound woman smashing your ankles with a sledgehammer. Secondly, the fact that random people are now coming up to me in the street calling themselves my ‘biggest fan’ forces me to confront the fact that has been staring me in the face for weeks now: I am now a Minor Internet Celebrity. Naturally it’s not a complete surprise. I’ve known for a while that I’m a bit of a hero-figure amongst a wide subsection of the Oxford community (and beyond!). People look up to me. People read this blog and take it as gospel. In many cases I am become a beacon of light in the dark and cold existences of the people that fill this earth. I mean last night wasn’t an isolated occasion; in the past months a number of people – some friends, some complete strangers – have begun conversations with ‘Tom, your blog is so good’ or ‘Tom why haven’t you updated the blog’ or ‘Tom why haven’t you blogged about me/my party/the American election’ yet?’ or ‘Tom you are literally the coolest guy I have ever met’. Now usually I don’t trust people who bring stuff from The Internet up in real life. I still sort of think of this blog –and really the internet as a whole- as a guilty secret to never be discussed out loud, like masturbation or incest. I mean last night one of the girls said ‘blogged’ and ‘Chainsaw Zombie’ out loud and I physically winced – but the strange thing is that not all of these people are morbidly-obese-basement-dwelling-neckbeardy-goon-types. In fact very few of them are. Indeed, some of them are – dare I say it – ‘cool’.

For example it turns out that I may have met ‘my biggest fan’ at a house party held by his girlfriend (one of the girls) the other week; I don’t know for sure I was p drunk. Now this was a Party with a capital P. You know it’s going to be good when the Facebook invitation comes mass-mailed from a future ruler of one of the larger democracies on Earth (although the ruler in question wasn’t actually anywhere to be seen at the party itself which was a bit of a letdown). Anyway I showed up wearing a pink shirt and trakkie bs and everyone was dressed in suits, eating birthday cake with spoons, listening to music I didn’t know, and hanging out in a tent that had been set up IN THE LIVING ROOM. That’s how cool it was. Some serious Skins shit. I ended up talking to some dude in the living room who had to stop what he was doing to rub cocaine in his gums at which point I nodded into space, slipped on some imaginary sunglasses, and said ‘I.have.made.it’. Later on I was pushing stoned students onto the floor in a futile attempt to find my ipod which had fallen down a crack in the sofa when one of the girls wandered into the room, absolutely fucked on horse tranquilisers, saw me, hugged me, then cried ‘TOM I LOVE YOUR BLOG DO ONE ABOUT THIS PARTY’. Which leads me to suspect that this blogspot address and the words contained herein is the only reason I got invited to the Cool Party in the first place.

Not that I care about that. I mean in person I’m average at best. Many of my fans are far more likely to succeed in life than I am. Indeed it seems this blog is opening doors for me more than all of my aborted attempts to interact socially have thusfar. It gets me invited to parties and lets me hang out with the cultural cream of Oxford society. It gets me hugged in the street. It makes me new friends and reaffirms old relationships. And I’m sure that I could probably use ChainsawZombie to seduce a young starlet if I wanted to, in a kind of ‘Sure I’ll blog about you baby, I’ll make you INTERNET FAMOUS TOO letshavesex’. But I don’t really feel the need to. So it’s cool. The future ruling cultural elite of this country think that this blog – and probably me by extension – is literally the greatest thing since sliced bread. I shall try not to let it go to my head.

But before you start thinking ‘Man I wish I was like Tom’, be warned: there’s a drawback to being as internet popular me. The thing is, now that I HAVE all the fame and power I could possibly want I don’t know what to do with it. I’m reminded of the Spiderman quotation ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. I just don’t think that I’m responsible enough to bear the weight of the massive social kudos that has fallen upon me.

The thing is, I always wondered what it would be like if I was famous and well loved like my heroes Gandhi and Martin Luther King and Ricky Gervais. I mean, despite the occasional bouts of self-loathing and the whole crippling insecurity thing I kind of assume that I will be when I grow up. I’m just too talented and clever not to be. But I also realised the other day that in my imaginary picture of myself as a famous man, I am a completely different person. In my imagination I’ve suddenly metamorphosed into being about 18% more handsome, being the defi-defi-ition of a bad-boy, rocking an ice-dry wit and being able to seduce famous women (aim: whoever the Alexa Chung equivalent is in five years time) with a raise of an eyebrow. Other factors of Imaginary Famous Me include: wearing a trilby, sweet Nikes, constantly swinging into rooms on a rope. Whereas I realise now that if I do suddenly become a living legend my reaction to screaming fans and girls approaching me in the street will not be to wink casually, grin, sign book covers/boobs and then bed them. It will be to react exactly as I did when hugged by My First Biggest Fan – freeze solid like a rabbit in the headlights, rictus grin, narrow beads of sweat down the back of the neck, chattering teeth, immediate verbal constipation/diahhrea. I mean here was my perfect chance – a young man, a COOL INTELLIGENT YOUNG MAN, was staring up at me with love in his eyes, the love of somebody who has just met his own personal hero. He was expecting me to be wise and what did I do? I croaked ‘I write things on the internet yay’ in a silly voice and stared at him. “It is dangerous to let the public behind the scenes,” said Maugham “They are easily disillusioned and then they are angry with you, for it was the illusion they loved” and I worry that my underwhelming personal presence absolutely disillusioned little James’s faith in the world – and worse – his own faith in himself. Who knows what the repercussions of meeting me might be? I can see him going home and just tearing up all his books and slashing his wrists. Which would suck. Oh god I used my presence massively irresponsibly. Should I have been wackier? Should I have made a quip or something? Should I have been cool? Oh God being mildly internet famous is so hard no wonder Kurt Cobain shot himself. DAMNIT JAMES you have caused me to reinterpret my entire existence you fucker

Oh shit I just realised that my biggest fan and co will probably read this post. Well I guess it’s nice to have your personal hero writing 2000 words about meeting you. He’ll probably print this out and frame it and put it on his wall and tell people who wrote this post about him and then they will say ‘who?’ and he’ll try to describe me and completely forget what I look like because I am so nondescript. But this p much sums up the problem I have – I completely disassociated the Tom On The Blog with the Tom In Real Life. Which is a problem because people expect to see BlogTom (you know, cool sophisticated ladykiller) when in reality they get RealTom (quiet moody sarcastic borderline autistic). But how can this problem be solved? Do I change the blog to suit who I am in reality? No because then it would just be a few mumbled full stops and me typing ‘its fine Its Fine ITS FINE’ like the guy out of the The Shining. Or do I change myself to suit how I am on the blog? But surely that is worse!! It brings to mind the Updike quote ‘Fame is the mask that eats into the face beneath’. Or perhaps the Mel Brooks quote about being disappointing in person because ‘you can no longer be the edited essence of yourself’. See, I know quotes. I know quotes on the internet. But if you asked me for a quote in real life I would look blankly at you. Do I not really know any quotes? Am I just a quote blog poseur? oh fuck

I worry too much.

IN CONCLUSION What I have learnt from this experience is that Fame Is Hard. It’s really difficult to juggle artistic loyalty to yourself with a personal life while still respecting the wishes and dreams of your fans. Especially when you have Great Fans like this:



This is Tom who is my rowing pal. He always asks me when the blog will be updated. Last night at the bar he looked sadly at me for five minutes with his big puppy eyes because I hadn’t yet given him a little mention. So to please him I have included his photograph at the end of this post. I hope that he will be happier now.

Hey Guys If You Want Me to Include A Picture Of You On One Of My Posts Then Please Get In Touch Via The Comments Section. Also If You Have Any Requests For Things For Me To Write About Then Please Let Me Know And I Will Get Right On It!!!!!

Oh Fuck!!!!!!! i can’t believe I’ve started doing requests.. I always tell myself ‘don’t do anything that the fans ask you to do, they are all morons’ but no the taste of fame is in my mouth, now I just want to be loved regardless of the consequences. Please love me. Love me love me love me. Oh no Already I’m selling out artistically. Im like ricky gervais in the extras Christmas special. shit SOON I’LL BE DOING ADVERTS FOR NESCAFÉ AND WRITING WHOLE POSTS ABOUT THE GREAT TIME I HAD AT MACDONALDS this sucks

Ok time to go out and buy some milk. Holy shit I hope I don’t get mobbed on the way there *slips on dark sunglasses*

* * *

P.S. guys there’s news I HAVE A NEW GIRLFRIEND that’s right suckaz tom is hooked up that’s your news for today ☺ oh god I hope she won’t read this blog and think that fame has changed me and say ‘Tom it used to be about the blog’ and I’ll say GET OUTTA MY FACE and hurl a bottle of whiskey at her and she’ll run crying from my dressing room. Because that would be awful

Crazy bird dreams!

Well, I may not have gone birding lately, but the birds are still with me. Last night, I had a crazy dream in which birds were a big player:

I dreamed I was in Manhattan, and I was sitting in a little cafe. I looked up and saw, on the outer wall of the cafe, a big white cockatoo. I walked outside and somehow managed to get the cockatoo to perch on my arm. Once I did that, I suddenly realized that the bird belonged to Judy Garland, and I had to get it back to her!

Somehow I knew the general whereabouts of Judy Garland's apartment building, so I walked over there. On the way, I recruited someone to help me--a woman, someone I don't know. She was tall and blonde, though, so maybe it was just a weird version of Kat. Anyway, we went into the building and discovered we were in the lobby of a huge old-time theatre, complete with concession stands, girls in Moulin-Rouge-type outfits swinging on giant swings suspended from the ceiling, and huge staircases. We negotiated our way through this hubbub and went upstairs.

We wandered all over the place for the next few minutes of my dream, which seemed like hours in the dream. We were inside hallways, outside in parking lots, looking through hotel rooms--you name it. FINALLY, someone helped us: a huge Mafia-type guy who was getting a massage in a big room with a pool in it. He told us where to go, and we found Judy Garland!

Only when we found Judy, the bird turned into a bald eagle! Somehow it didn't claw the flesh off my arm, and I was able to hand her the raptor. After just a little prodding, she sang the chorus of "Swannee" for us right there in her doorway, and then we were off. Then I woke up.

Bird-flu? Birds flew? You decide.

Well, all my best-laid plans to go birding Sunday were dashed when I woke up with a sore throat and saw that it was kinda rainy and very cold outside. So--no birdy news there, sad to say.

I feel like I'm not even a birder anymore--I never make it out anywhere to see birds! The starlings and crows around my place are laughing at me, I just know it!

Birding posts to come!

I'm going to bird with some members of the State College Birding Club on Sunday, so I promise I'll have some real beginningtobird birding stuff to talk about soon!

In the meantime, I've taken to using the blog search tool and typing in random words like "feather" or "nibble." Try it on this or on your own blog--it's a cool way to take a trip down memory lane, bloggy style!