29 June 2009
28 June 2009
Squirrels
I think the squirrels in my backyard are completely unstoppable.
Last Summer, I bought a new bird feeder, specifically to foil the squirrels whose persistence destroyed the one it replaced. That new feeder has since been broken (I need to order a replacement part), and for now, the squirrels occupy it with impunity. I've tried a chili powder additive as a deterrent, but they didn't even break a sweat.
I have nothing against the squirrels (despite what you may have read in past) — I appreciate their persistence, and I can't help but admire their intelligence. I'd just prefer they didn't monopolize my bird feeders.
Many, many years ago, when we lived in Jersey City, we were in an apartment that was down the street from a large park. We got in the habit of feeding the squirrels there, because they were so friendly. (I miss doing that.) At first, they'd come up to the bench we were sitting on. In time, they began to come up on the bench we were sitting on. We brought mixed nuts — almonds, hazelnuts, brazil nuts, and walnuts — and I've no doubt that made us especially popular.
When I was working, I used to have a photo on the bulletin board in my office (I wonder what I did with it?) of a squirrel perched on my knee.
One morning, while waiting for a bus at the edge of the park, I noticed a squirrel that seemed to be taking an unusual interest in me. I remember it scampering around at my feet, expectantly, as if it were waiting for me to feed it. When I walked back into the park to try to encourage it out of harm's way, it just followed me back out again. At one point, it gave up on me and decided to explore my shoulder bag, which was on the bench. (Nothing of interest there.) I tried talking to it, but that probably only made matters worse. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I think it actually recognized me.
I had to leave it, disappointed (do squirrels even have a concept of disappointment?) when the bus arrived. But from that day, I don't think I ever left home without a few hazelnuts in the front pocket of my shoulder bag.
Last Summer, I bought a new bird feeder, specifically to foil the squirrels whose persistence destroyed the one it replaced. That new feeder has since been broken (I need to order a replacement part), and for now, the squirrels occupy it with impunity. I've tried a chili powder additive as a deterrent, but they didn't even break a sweat.
I have nothing against the squirrels (despite what you may have read in past) — I appreciate their persistence, and I can't help but admire their intelligence. I'd just prefer they didn't monopolize my bird feeders.
Many, many years ago, when we lived in Jersey City, we were in an apartment that was down the street from a large park. We got in the habit of feeding the squirrels there, because they were so friendly. (I miss doing that.) At first, they'd come up to the bench we were sitting on. In time, they began to come up on the bench we were sitting on. We brought mixed nuts — almonds, hazelnuts, brazil nuts, and walnuts — and I've no doubt that made us especially popular.
When I was working, I used to have a photo on the bulletin board in my office (I wonder what I did with it?) of a squirrel perched on my knee.
One morning, while waiting for a bus at the edge of the park, I noticed a squirrel that seemed to be taking an unusual interest in me. I remember it scampering around at my feet, expectantly, as if it were waiting for me to feed it. When I walked back into the park to try to encourage it out of harm's way, it just followed me back out again. At one point, it gave up on me and decided to explore my shoulder bag, which was on the bench. (Nothing of interest there.) I tried talking to it, but that probably only made matters worse. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I think it actually recognized me.
I had to leave it, disappointed (do squirrels even have a concept of disappointment?) when the bus arrived. But from that day, I don't think I ever left home without a few hazelnuts in the front pocket of my shoulder bag.
27 June 2009
25 June 2009
Shuffling On
I got a new iPod Nano as a gift for Father's Day. It's silver, shiny and new, with no trace of the wear that had accumulated on the older iPod Nano I've been using for the past three or four years, or however long it was. (And it has twice the storage capacity, which is always welcome.) I'm even beginning to embrace the "shuffle" function (on those rare occasions when I'm listening to music), which I'd always ignored. It's just so much fun to activate it by shaking the iPod ― how could I resist?
But what to do with the old Nano? It still works (more or less), it's just a a bit beat-up, and it's difficult to navigate with half the display gone. As a music player, though, it probably still has a great deal of life left in it — think of it as an iPod Shuffle with a display. (Sort of).
Anybody want it? Click the link on the right to email me. (You won't even have to pay for postage.) I'll be happy to send it anywhere I know it's going to be put to better use than sitting in a mug on a bookshelf in my office.
But what to do with the old Nano? It still works (more or less), it's just a a bit beat-up, and it's difficult to navigate with half the display gone. As a music player, though, it probably still has a great deal of life left in it — think of it as an iPod Shuffle with a display. (Sort of).
Anybody want it? Click the link on the right to email me. (You won't even have to pay for postage.) I'll be happy to send it anywhere I know it's going to be put to better use than sitting in a mug on a bookshelf in my office.
24 June 2009
My Cat Jack
my cat Jack
purs alot
meows loudley
brown and tan
very loud runing
that is all
A poem my son wrote in school. (There was another that also ended with "that is all.")
purs alot
meows loudley
brown and tan
very loud runing
that is all
A poem my son wrote in school. (There was another that also ended with "that is all.")
Notes From The Field
It's the end of the school year — tomorrow, in fact — and papers and worksheets accumulated from the past several months are being sent home...
I don't like brusle sproots (brussel sprouts). I think I knew that. Who does?
I like my teacher.
I don't like homework. I suppose that's obvious, but I think it really depends on when you ask. Most times, when we do homework together in the afternoon, he doesn't seem all that bothered. In fact, he's often anxious to get to it.
I wish that I could spell every word. I've been trying to get him to embrace the concept of making mistakes as an opportunity to learn. How well that works depends on his mood on any given day.
I don't like the dark. You know, I don't think he's ever mentioned this to me...
Every day in the spring it is sunny. Sometimes it is rainy. I love when its sunny.
I don't like brusle sproots (brussel sprouts). I think I knew that. Who does?
I like my teacher.
I don't like homework. I suppose that's obvious, but I think it really depends on when you ask. Most times, when we do homework together in the afternoon, he doesn't seem all that bothered. In fact, he's often anxious to get to it.
I wish that I could spell every word. I've been trying to get him to embrace the concept of making mistakes as an opportunity to learn. How well that works depends on his mood on any given day.
I don't like the dark. You know, I don't think he's ever mentioned this to me...
Every day in the spring it is sunny. Sometimes it is rainy. I love when its sunny.