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| May your day be filled with light and love. |
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Tiny Perfection
Western Fence Lizards are really cute. In late summer, there are lots of tiny ones running around.
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| This one's pretty cute, tho' we have seen tinier.... |
Noodling Around
Well, I have to say that back-to-school activity hampers our day to day enjoyment of The Attraction. Making a mental note of this.
Meanwhile, on the love seat . . . . (These were taken a few weeks ago, shortly before Wellie disappeared).
This second picture isn't as perfect, but I am posting it because it is one of the last pictures I have of the inimitable Wellie. Wherever there was action, she would be right there. We tried to get photos of Wellie and Sadie sharing a noodle, but Wellie kept hopping off with her side of the noodle. Anyway, we laughed a lot trying.
Meanwhile, on the love seat . . . . (These were taken a few weeks ago, shortly before Wellie disappeared).
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| Sadie and Tessa reenact "Lady and the Tramp." |
This second picture isn't as perfect, but I am posting it because it is one of the last pictures I have of the inimitable Wellie. Wherever there was action, she would be right there. We tried to get photos of Wellie and Sadie sharing a noodle, but Wellie kept hopping off with her side of the noodle. Anyway, we laughed a lot trying.
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| Wellie directs the scene from on top of Tessa's laptop (R). |
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Blog Must Go On
Still feeling sad about the absence of Wellie.
But life goes on, and the idea for the blog was conceived before Welllie plunged out of her nest and into our lives. So, I'm going to put up a few pictures that not only reflect life day-to-day on Maniac Mountain, but also, that simply make me happy.
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| Hug a hen. They're very soft - and sometimes sweet - like Holly, our Prairie Rock Hen. |
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Anti-climactic
After two reconnaissance missions, Chigiy and I feel pretty sure that Wellie is not currently residing at the home of Mystery Woman from San Jose.
We walked around her place in daylight while she was not at home, and could hear her pet birds vocalizing. We vocalized. In response, we heard parakeets and a cockatiel. I do not doubt that if Wellie had been there, she would have made her presence known.
So, it's good news and bad news, I guess. Mostly bad.
I am relieved that this person whom I suspected did not take the bird (or if she did, the bird has since either escaped or been released). Anyway, Wellie's non-kidnapping restores an iota of my already marginal faith in humanity, and offers some closure. Given the absolute, complete disappearance of the bird, I think I have to assume the worst, that Wellie is no more.
I didn't want to have an awkward encounter with a person who had stolen a sort-of pet from the wild, and yet, I did want to believe my birdy was still alive out there somewhere. I don't think my suspicions were entirely unfounded, but I have been aware, all along, that a certain amount of denial was in effect. I know, I am a jackass. Ha. I said it first.
In Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays by Candace Savage, I read the following (actually written about magpies, but I think very analagous), and it is one of those nuggets of information that both saddens and comforts:
"In one study, more than a fifth of magpie fledglings fell prey to owls, hawks, and falcons within two weeks of leaving the nest."
We walked around her place in daylight while she was not at home, and could hear her pet birds vocalizing. We vocalized. In response, we heard parakeets and a cockatiel. I do not doubt that if Wellie had been there, she would have made her presence known.
So, it's good news and bad news, I guess. Mostly bad.
I am relieved that this person whom I suspected did not take the bird (or if she did, the bird has since either escaped or been released). Anyway, Wellie's non-kidnapping restores an iota of my already marginal faith in humanity, and offers some closure. Given the absolute, complete disappearance of the bird, I think I have to assume the worst, that Wellie is no more.
I didn't want to have an awkward encounter with a person who had stolen a sort-of pet from the wild, and yet, I did want to believe my birdy was still alive out there somewhere. I don't think my suspicions were entirely unfounded, but I have been aware, all along, that a certain amount of denial was in effect. I know, I am a jackass. Ha. I said it first.
In Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays by Candace Savage, I read the following (actually written about magpies, but I think very analagous), and it is one of those nuggets of information that both saddens and comforts:
"In one study, more than a fifth of magpie fledglings fell prey to owls, hawks, and falcons within two weeks of leaving the nest."
Friday, September 3, 2010
Am I In Denial, or Did That Person Seem a Little Strange?
I've posted bits and pieces of this story here and there on FaceBook, but here is a fuller version of one of my theories about Wellie's disappearance.
Many have suggested that she might have gone off with a mate. While I don't know exactly when jays choose a mate, my intuition and observation tell me it isn't now. She is a juvenile; only about 3 months old. Heck, she ain't even all blue yet. Hence, I don't think she's in the market for Mr. Right. Spring people, next spring.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch....
On Monday afternoon this week, as I was taking the dog out for a walk, Sadie ran off to the barn barking at an unfamiliar woman who was standing in the road. I was glad she didn't really seem phased by Sadie's barking. As I approached her to retrieve the dog and say hello, the woman turned and said, in an awed voice, "LOOK at this BIRD!" And, of course, there was Wellie, perched on her hand, being engaging and curious and wonderful in her quintessential scrub jay way.
We chatted for a bit and I told her the story of having found Wellie and fledged her, and how she now lives in the wild but visits us all regularly. This woman was really smitten, exclaiming more than once how much she loved the bird, wanted the bird.
A lot of people get a big kick out of having a wild bird land on them and play with them. Wellie is cute and funny and intensely interested in everything, much like a kitten. With wings. It is a pretty magical experience.
This woman was the first person I walked away from feeling a twinge of worry. I left her there with Wellie, looking back over my shoulder a couple times wondering if I should go back, but telling myself, "no, she wouldn't do that...."
Tuesday, we saw Wellie in all her regularly scheduled activities.
Wednesday, there was not a single trace of the bird. Except later that afternoon, this same woman shows up in my driveway asking about the bird. Hmmmm. She had no business up here. She told me she had tried to find a nearby winery unsuccessfully, and had given up and come here. She again said that if we didn't want the bird, she would love to have her. She told me she has birds at her house: a cockatiel and two parakeets.
She seemed pleasant enough, and at the same time, kind of odd. I was again suspicious, but couldn't quite bring myself to ask her if she had taken the bird. But I did tell her that we hadn't seen the bird all day and that we were worried.
We have walked all around the property in search of a telltale burst of blue feathers or a little dead bird. Neither has been found.
Today, I spoke to my sculptor neighbor. The woman had visited his studio on Monday, so I thought maybe he knew her. He told me that she was also a stranger to him, and moreover, he had become uncomfortable in her presence after 5 minutes. His 3 assistants all agreed that she seemed strange. Initially, her story was that she had run out of gas, or her vehicle was otherwise incapacitated. Or something. Hmmm again. Anyway, my sculptor neighbor said she "asked to buy every thing in the studio, one thing after another," but actually bought nothing. Not that there is really anything "for sale" in his studio; while it is full of fascinating objets, it's a busy workshop readying for a show a month away.
Anyway, in the grip of that unsatisfactory acquisitive episode, Mystery Woman then apparently walked outside and stole my baby corvid. (Objection! Conjecture!)
Luckily, she had left her address and e-mail address at the studio.
Given the outright total disappearance of the bird, I believe she has either been killed by a predator, or is now living with this woman in San Jose.
What would you do???
Many have suggested that she might have gone off with a mate. While I don't know exactly when jays choose a mate, my intuition and observation tell me it isn't now. She is a juvenile; only about 3 months old. Heck, she ain't even all blue yet. Hence, I don't think she's in the market for Mr. Right. Spring people, next spring.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch....
On Monday afternoon this week, as I was taking the dog out for a walk, Sadie ran off to the barn barking at an unfamiliar woman who was standing in the road. I was glad she didn't really seem phased by Sadie's barking. As I approached her to retrieve the dog and say hello, the woman turned and said, in an awed voice, "LOOK at this BIRD!" And, of course, there was Wellie, perched on her hand, being engaging and curious and wonderful in her quintessential scrub jay way.
We chatted for a bit and I told her the story of having found Wellie and fledged her, and how she now lives in the wild but visits us all regularly. This woman was really smitten, exclaiming more than once how much she loved the bird, wanted the bird.
A lot of people get a big kick out of having a wild bird land on them and play with them. Wellie is cute and funny and intensely interested in everything, much like a kitten. With wings. It is a pretty magical experience.
This woman was the first person I walked away from feeling a twinge of worry. I left her there with Wellie, looking back over my shoulder a couple times wondering if I should go back, but telling myself, "no, she wouldn't do that...."
Tuesday, we saw Wellie in all her regularly scheduled activities.
Wednesday, there was not a single trace of the bird. Except later that afternoon, this same woman shows up in my driveway asking about the bird. Hmmmm. She had no business up here. She told me she had tried to find a nearby winery unsuccessfully, and had given up and come here. She again said that if we didn't want the bird, she would love to have her. She told me she has birds at her house: a cockatiel and two parakeets.
She seemed pleasant enough, and at the same time, kind of odd. I was again suspicious, but couldn't quite bring myself to ask her if she had taken the bird. But I did tell her that we hadn't seen the bird all day and that we were worried.
We have walked all around the property in search of a telltale burst of blue feathers or a little dead bird. Neither has been found.
Today, I spoke to my sculptor neighbor. The woman had visited his studio on Monday, so I thought maybe he knew her. He told me that she was also a stranger to him, and moreover, he had become uncomfortable in her presence after 5 minutes. His 3 assistants all agreed that she seemed strange. Initially, her story was that she had run out of gas, or her vehicle was otherwise incapacitated. Or something. Hmmm again. Anyway, my sculptor neighbor said she "asked to buy every thing in the studio, one thing after another," but actually bought nothing. Not that there is really anything "for sale" in his studio; while it is full of fascinating objets, it's a busy workshop readying for a show a month away.
Anyway, in the grip of that unsatisfactory acquisitive episode, Mystery Woman then apparently walked outside and stole my baby corvid. (Objection! Conjecture!)
Luckily, she had left her address and e-mail address at the studio.
Given the outright total disappearance of the bird, I believe she has either been killed by a predator, or is now living with this woman in San Jose.
What would you do???
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Worry
We haven't seen Wellie all day. I am trying not to worry. Besides missing her like crazy, well, sheesh, she's kind of vulnerable, being both wild and habituated to human company.
I wish I could simply chalk her absence up to growing up and moving on, and while that is certainly possible, such a clean break would surprise me. She has been so regular with her routine, and very bossy monitoring our comings and goings (on walkies, to the barn, etc). She swoops in and greets almost every visitor to the house (and barn), checking out their vehicle, jewelery, and person. We joked that she was becoming our guard bird, because she would occasionally screech & dive-bomb people jogging by our driveway. Until she recognized them, anyway. Seriously.
And then, today, we saw not a trace of her all day.
Usually, I watch her fly in toward the house from either of a couple different trees. When she would fly in from tree #1, she would very predictably get dive-bombed by an adult jay. Soooo, my theories include, but are not limited to:
a) she's been run off by a dominant jay,
b) she's been captured by or is happily mooching from a smitten neighbor,
c) she's been nabbed by a predator,
or vaguely possibly,
d) she's molting, and simply can't be seen in public.
I miss her so much.
I wish I could simply chalk her absence up to growing up and moving on, and while that is certainly possible, such a clean break would surprise me. She has been so regular with her routine, and very bossy monitoring our comings and goings (on walkies, to the barn, etc). She swoops in and greets almost every visitor to the house (and barn), checking out their vehicle, jewelery, and person. We joked that she was becoming our guard bird, because she would occasionally screech & dive-bomb people jogging by our driveway. Until she recognized them, anyway. Seriously.
And then, today, we saw not a trace of her all day.
Usually, I watch her fly in toward the house from either of a couple different trees. When she would fly in from tree #1, she would very predictably get dive-bombed by an adult jay. Soooo, my theories include, but are not limited to:
a) she's been run off by a dominant jay,
b) she's been captured by or is happily mooching from a smitten neighbor,
c) she's been nabbed by a predator,
or vaguely possibly,
d) she's molting, and simply can't be seen in public.
I miss her so much.
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