WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

It seems to me that somehow Mother’s Day, the one day guaranteed to make Mom feel all warm and fuzzy, has now morphed into Mother’s Day weekend, and, in radio ads I even heard it referred to as Mother’s Week. Well, in my opinion, I say … why not? Never pass up the opportunity to pay homage to your Mom if she is still alive and make her feel special, because after all, you owe your very existence to her.

As I walked to the Park this morning, I was thinking about Mother’s Day. I was hoping to find a Canada Goose with her goslings and take their picture to accompany my post today. However, I figured the wildlife would be scarce at Council Point Park today since the Lincoln Park Relay for Life, sponsored by the American Cancer Society, was scheduled to start at 10:00 a.m. I know from last year, it is a hubbub of activity 24/7 at the Park for two solid days. I planned to arrive fairly early and walk a few laps before it got crowded. But as I drew near I heard a loud speaker booming out, the parking lots were filled to capacity and there were at least twenty tents pitched around the more open portion of the Park. There were massive floodlights everywhere and stands set up for the luminaria bags which will be lit when darkness falls. The smell of fresh hot coffee lingered in the air and people were bustling about, scurrying to and fro with coolers, camp chairs and cameras.

So, as I set out on the perimeter path, I figured I’d stay on only the one side this weekend, away from all the festivities. Along the way, I called out “good morning” or remarked on the beautiful day to all the “regulars”, and a young fellow riding his mountain bike laughed every time he passed me by, and he said “they really like you” since I had a passel of peanut pals trailing along behind me at any given time. Besides peanuts in the shell, I had toted a half-bag of crumbled up bread, having made a pit stop the other day at Meijer, and I was more than willing to share it with whatever water fowl came my way. Again, the ducks were not present at what used to be their usual gathering place, but at least a dozen Canada Geese were grazing in the lush green grass in the “donut hole” or center of the perimeter path. I reached into the bag and tossed out a handful or two, and the gaggle of geese lifted their heads up from the grass to see what I was offering. Well, they just about inhaled that bread in a matter of seconds, so I tossed another handful, and then who should come along but Mama and Papa with their brood? I couldn’t have planned that better! Still another handful of bread was thrown and the goslings soon toddled over and nibbled delicately at the bread tidbits. In one swift motion, I hurriedly tossed out some more and grabbed the camera. By now, several of the walkers had stopped and whipped out their camera phones and soon a half-dozen people were checking out the fuzzy chicks and their parents through the camera lens instead of their peepers. That’s okay because when they returned home today, they had a warm and fuzzy story and picture to share with their loved ones on this Mother’s Day weekend.

When I left the house this morning, I was without hat, gloves or coat at last … well, how crazy is this Michigan weather when I shivered two days ago in my heavy Winter duds? Yesterday we set a record for heat when we reached 87 degrees. I turned on the A/C at 6:30 p.m. when the thermostat read 81 degrees in the house and it was hot and stifling. Well, I thought the weather just got too hot, too fast and it’s not really my cup of tea, despite my protestations all Winter long that I would not whine when the heat finally settled in. Just a few days ago the weather folks reminded us to protect our tender plants if they were already in the ground as there was a frost warning overnight. This morning when I left for my walk it was 72 degrees already. This weather syndrome, which us Michiganders joke about, saying “if you don’t like the weather in Michigan, wait five minutes” certainly has been true this week. As I write this post, the threat of severe weather looms from thunderstorms, which, in part, are bubbling up from the extreme heat.

While I was walking this morning I was ruminating about my beautiful roses pictured above. A quick trip to the backyard before I left on my walk once again left me reeling over the damage the Polar Vortex events and brutal Winter inflicted on my long-established plants. Most distressing is my row of Knockout Roses which appear to have bitten the dust – there is no sign of life in their brittle stems as far as I can tell. They were hardy when I put the garden to bed in the Fall. This picture above was taken in early Summer, because in general, by Fall, the rosebushes usually have spread and grown up to the fence top having bloomed profusely all season. It appears I have lost two additional smaller shrub rosebushes which were planted in the mid-80s. There is no sign of life in my long-established Nelly Moser Clematis, just dead and tangled stems hanging on the trellis where its many tendrils always hung on as it climbed up to the sky for the past ten years. I feel just sick after taking stock of the backyard gardens, but out front, my large holly bush is likewise brown and brittle and similarly planted in 1985. I hope that the malady is just the cool Spring and there might be some hope yet, but it does not look very promising for any of these plants or bushes right now. I fear stopping to smell the roses along the way just got a little more difficult, if not an impossible task … at my house anyway.

When I walked on Tuesday morning, I passed Ford Park and the tree above was the only one in this park that was resplendent in tender, bright-green leaves. This willow looked a little odd since all the rest of the trees at this venue were still bare, making this big willow tree almost look out of place, like perhaps it had been Photo-shopped into a black-and-white scene. Now, trees don’t have feelings, of course, but if there was a thought bubble overhead it would have proclaimed “it’s not easy being green” when all the other trees are still the proverbial ugly ducklings. This morning, however, when I passed this park, the rest of the trees, had curling leaves beginning to unfurl throughout Ford Park. I am sure when I walk by tomorrow morning the whole park will have come alive in the expanse of 24 hours, just like time-lapse photography. Pastel palettes of pinks a ‘plenty were in abundance. This sudden spate of warm weather enhanced the surge of flowering plum and crabapple blossoms on several trees which looked so dainty and pristine amongst the old and weathered-looking, sturdy playground equipment. A magnolia tree or two had buds just on the verge of bursting open and after today’s heat, they will probably be blooming tomorrow and drop their petals on Saturday. This beautiful big willow tree has been a focal point in Ford Park, formerly known as Buckingham Park , for as long as I can remember. In fact, in 1966, the year we moved to the States, I spent most of my Summer vacation days at Buckingham Park. They always had a college student who was in charge of kids’ activities at the Park and she oversaw the arts and crafts projects, as well as monitoring the playground equipment and supervising the wading pool. We used to make alot of crafts, mostly out of long plastic laces, which we would purchase at the Park for three cents for a three-foot length in every color imaginable. The laces were painstakingly woven together and fashioned into lanyards. At one time we had so many of these lanyards around the house I thought I’d never need to buy one the rest my life. The wading pool was awesome on scorching hot days and we would while away the hours playing board games like checkers, Chinese checkers or Mancala and when boredom set in, there was plenty of playground equipment to use. My friends and I would arrive early in the day and there were no worries by our moms as they knew we were in good hands until dinnertime. All us girls would share secrets and sandwiches and trade sweets and other goodies from our brown bag lunches while sitting under the shade of this same big ol’ willow tree. Life was simple and easy in those days wasn’t it? You exerted alot of energy, got alot of Vitamin D from being out in the sun all day and pretty much crashed and burned after dinner was done. The next day you’d do it all again, the same routine all Summer ‘til Labor Day, except for the two weeks you tore yourself away from your pals and went on the annual family vacation. No guilty pleasures – just youthful sweet and simple pleasures.

I knew it was going to be a beautiful morning so I was up and out the door early since I planned a two-park agenda today. It was cold but the sun felt so good. My feet found the way to Council Point Park automatically and so I went exactly where they chose to take me. I was there on the trail before all the regular walkers, joggers and bikers and was enjoying my peace and solitude immensely as I walked along the perimeter path. I brought my bag of treats – more crumbed-up bread gleaned from my own loaf of bread and a fresh Ziploc bag of peanuts, but surprisingly the squirrels must have still been asleep high up in the trees because not a single furry friend came down to rush me and beg for nuts. Perhaps they all were ailing this morning, having gorged themselves on the overabundance of peanuts I threw their way yesterday. I glanced upward after hearing the motor of a small plane which interrupted my thoughts because it kept circling round and round and closer and closer to me as I was walking. The clear-as-a-bell blue sky was interrupted by contrails which crisscrossed in places looking like huge hashtags. This small plane appeared to be hopscotching across the sky in the marks made by its bigger counter-parts. At the Park, the trees are still bare and just now, the leaves are unfurling and opening up ever so slowly – in fact it seems everything in the Park is in a state of slow mo. My bag of treats was carried for naught since I saw no ducks or geese paddling down the creek today like I have in recent days. I am sharing this picture from last weekend of the ducks and geese I glimpsed as I peered through the saplings and brush at Lions Park. Though this morning’s walk may have been devoid of ducks and geese, I was regaled by a bevy of birdcalls which intensified as I walked along. Sweet tweets, warbles and chirps were abundant as the birds babbled back and forth to each other in a language only they could understand. I interjected a whistle here and there as an interlude to their “music” and today they simply ignored me … of course, they knew I was not “one of them” so I finally quit trying. I did my Park loop and at the tail end, I heard some splashing noises in the Ecorse Creek. I figured it was a goose, or perhaps that trumpet swan or heron had come back so I quickly went over closer to get a look. I saw a man in waders walking down the middle of the creek and carrying what looked like a pool-scooping net. Every so often he dunked his handled net into the water, drew it out and examined the contents. He was making alot of splashing noises in the process. I couldn’t imagine that he’d be fishing there and he was intent on his job so I didn’t want to bother him to ask. But, my curiosity got the better of me when I saw two women unloading cleaning supplies from a van with a Wayne County emblem on each door, then washing off the half-dozen picnic tables under the pavilion cover. I walked over to one of the women and we visited a little about the weather, then I asked if Wayne County was now taking care of the Park. The women told me that the County participates in nature projects with all the large parks where there is a body of water nearby. The County workers collect samples of the water from the creek, then pour the water and its sediment – critters or otherwise – into receptacles that resemble egg cartons and local elementary students can analyze the grubs and bugs and pick them up using plastic spoons. Right after she finished her explanation, she pointed at a group of youngsters walking along single file across the Park and she told me that they were kids from nearby Keppen School. A walkable field trip! I thanked her for the info and hurried to part two of my agenda – Lions Park. The trip was scenic but unlike my find a few days ago, there was no sign of life at this Park either. I was determined to discover a goose or two sitting on eggs and the eventual chance to get a gander at a some goslings come hatching time. Perhaps this whole miracle of life is similarly in slow motion just like everything else seems to be as this chilly Spring languishes through this first week of May.

… was today’s greeting to the geese at Council Point Park. It was a good-looking morning after a beautiful pinkish-red sunrise and so I set out fairly early to the Park. It was quite nippy out and I am still walking in heavy sweats, a lightweight Winter coat and wool hat and gloves on this 5th day of May. Unbelievable! I poked through my own loaf of bread and donated two heels and four stale-looking slices “for the cause” and since that didn’t look like enough in case I met up with some hungry waterfowl, I took the half-full inside bag from a box of Cheerios along as well. As I walked the pathway at the Park I dispensed peanuts to my squirrel friends who came out of nooks, crannies and cubbyholes to greet me – at least I think they were greeting me and not hankering for some peanuts. Well, I hope that is the case anyway. As I rounded the curve in the path which takes me along the first bend of the Ecorse Creek, I heard incessant honking so I knew a flock of Canada geese were overhead. I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to try to capture a picture of some geese, either taking off or in mid-flight, since I dusted off my digital camera and starting toting it along with me on my walks this Spring. Turning my head upward, while shielding my eyes from the morning sun, I quickly scanned the sky for geese and saw none. Thinking the noise I heard was merely a figment of my imagination, I just walked on and then I realized the commotion was caused by a flock of geese in the creek. There was a least a half-dozen of them and they were squawking wildly at one another for no reason that I could determine. I watched for a while in fascination when a few minutes later, more geese landed right on the water from the sky. I saw a flurry of flapping wings, then a neat skid right onto the water’s surface and then some skimming along the top of the water with the head submerged. I’ve never seen a goose land on water before. It was graceful, not ungainly, for such large birds and the geese actually looked like airplanes landing on the water. They dipped their heads in and out of the water, bobbing for breakfast I suppose, and their necks and heads emerged, slick and glossy black from the Ecorse Creek.

I threw out some bread and that got their attention but my meager offerings were quickly gobbled up. I then reached into the plastic wrapperful of Cheerios and the rustling of the hard plastic bag stirred them and simultaneously they looked over at me. I pelted a few of those crunchy O-shaped rings into the water, but they were too lightweight, and when they landed, they all congealed into a pile and started floating like mini life preservers into a corner. One enterprising goose seized the opportunity to take all the Cheerios in one great goose gulp and they were gone – um, I think they’d taste better in milk, than in the dirty creek water, but I guess it was a treat. Meanwhile, I was hopeful of getting a good shot of all the take-offs and landings of the geese at this particular bend in the creek and since I had already dispensed all the tidbits on hand, I figured they’d hang around a little longer anticipating more handouts. The sun was just perfect for the shot. But, what did I see out of the corner of my eye, but several squirrels sniffing around and begging nearby? I hurriedly, and rather absently, fished into my pocket to grab a large handful of nuts, then tossed out at least 20 peanuts to pacify the squirrels and thus keep them occupied while I tried to get a shot of the comings and goings of the geese. But, the squirrels were not to be so easily appeased – instead, they sniffed at the peanuts, then being a trifle “piggy” in my opinion since fresh peanuts were strewn everywhere, they all surrounded me and crowded in even closer, one even resting a front paw on the toe tip of my walking shoes. I didn’t take a group shot of the squirrels, though I was sorely tempted, because the sun was out, and sometimes the sun’s rays glinting on the silver camera body, has scared them and they were just a smidge too close to me. While I enjoy interacting with the squirrels in the Park, I am still ever-mindful that they are wild animals, after all, and I don’t like them quite THAT CLOSE. I relinquished the balance of my peanuts, tossing them at a distance and they all scampered off to get some. Next, I turned my attention back to the task at hand and just as I turned around, I saw all the geese take flight at once. My camera, which had been at the ready for nearly 10 minutes as I patiently waited to get a shot to accompany this blog post, had been placed in my pocket so I could tend to the squirrels. The flock of geese were lifting off the water and headed for the skies and it was quite a sight. Well, I memorialized that picture in my mind’s eye anyway, and better luck to me next time. Pip, Pip, Cheerio and I’ll catch you on the fly.

Another lackluster weather day for our weekend. The Heavens were conflicted this morning because one minute it was a bruised and angry-looking sky with the occasional sprinkle of rain thrown in for good measure, and then suddenly an expanse of blue sky appeared with a pale sun peeking through. Whether this weather was somewhat of a shady deal or not this morning, I was itching for a long walk, so I set out for Council Point Park, toting my usual bag full of bread and peanuts, but I also took along an umbrella since I didn’t want to get doused by a cold rain before arriving home. I haven’t bought any more bread for the ducks since they’ve not been around, however, I had hung onto some ancient tortilla wraps “just in case”, and though they didn’t’ look too appetizing to me, they were still good. I tore them up into bite-sized pieces figuring I’d toss ‘em out onto the water and say “Hola! Happy Cinco de Mayo one day early” to whatever water fowl swam up to meet me. Unfortunately, there were still no takers as the ducks are still missing in action. Along the path, however, I treated my usual squirrel buddies to some peanuts, then decided on a whim to walk along River Drive to Lions Park which is like a mini-version of Council Point Park, since it runs parallel to the Ecorse Creek and also has a looped walking path. Walking this route and through two parks is a five-mile trip, and a quick glance at the sky, which had now turned bright blue, told me it was “doable” without getting soaked or ending up with shin splints. When I arrived, I was the only one there and it was quiet and peaceful. I went down near the banks of the creek and I must have scared a huge cottontail bunny who darted out of the brush and hopped past me, flashing a fluffy, white, powder-puff tail. After he departed in a flash, I composed myself since he had startled me as well, and I edged closer to the rippling water and peered through some trees. It was then that I saw them … three ducks still fast asleep and two Canada geese standing guard over them in the creek nearby. Each of the ducks was sleeping, as all birds do, on one leg with their head tucked under their wing. All five of the water fowl were oblivious to the bunny and me so I had a good view of them … for a few minutes anyway. Lest they should awake and I’d miss the shot, I clicked off a few pictures of the sleeping beauties, though unfortunately the sun had dipped behind the clouds once again making the area a little darkish. Soon thereafter the geese waddled from the water and headed over to their counter-parts on shore. I decided it was time to share my tortilla tidbits with them and tossed some across the expanse between us. The geese grabbed a few morsels, and their sudden rustling movements woke up the ducks. Another handful of bread bites was thrown over to my feathered friends and soon the ducks similarly waddled over to get some breakfast. They were a trio of male mallards. All too soon my treat supply was gone and I wished I had more to offer. They hung around a few minutes and I snapped a few more pictures of them which I will share in later posts. I will try to get to Lions Park more often to see if this is a regular duck “hangout” or just a stopping place for today. They were probably feeling pretty smug about getting all the treats while somewhere their brethren are scrounging for food, but … truthfully, it was I who felt like the “lucky duck” today.

It didn’t look too inviting when I went outside on this soggy Saturday morn. The gray day and dull-looking sky sure didn’t beckon me to leave the confines of the cozy house. I really didn’t go far as it threatened to pour down at any minute, though it never did, probably because the great rain barrel in the sky was finally empty after the early morning downpour. Unlike my last post which praised the primary colors and the beautiful day, this gray day reminded me of the flower known as dusty miller … boring-looking, blah and rather nondescript. Several of the larger homes I pass on my daily trek have dusty miller plants lined up along their front gardens. The homeowners don’t yank them out when the growing season is over, and instead treat them as a perennial. I have seen these same dusty miller plants three years in a row rising phoenix-like from garden beds that are still saturated with decayed leaves and what not that has blown there during the course of the Winter. It seems the homeowners merely nip them down in the Spring and they, in turn, spring back to life. This morning I noticed all these dusty millers are still looking very sickly and bedraggled … but after all, I guess you’d look bedraggled too if you were weighted down by 94.8 inches of snow and then saturated with this incessant rain! If we ever get a little more sunshine and some warmth plus a few doses of Miracle-Gro, that will bring those dusty millers back and breathe new life into them. I wonder if recycling your dusty millers from year to year makes them become a hardier plant? They are one of the cheapest annuals available and even if you don’t have a green thumb, you simply cannot kill this plant. I use them to accent other flowers sometimes, as you see in the above picture from my garden. As to recycling your favorite annuals, many years ago I rode the bus with a woman who overwintered her bright red geraniums in a seldom-used hall closet. They didn’t look so hot when she replanted them come Spring, but she claimed they grew bigger and better than any geraniums you could buy from the finest nursery. For many years my neighbor Marge let me overwinter several hibiscuses and an ornamental mandevilla tree at her house in a sunny spot near her door wall. This trio of tropicals would drop most of their leaves and look rather pitiful over the course of the Winter. In the Spring, I pruned them back making them look really ugly, but once they got a dose or two of Miracle-Gro and the strong Summer sun to help them along, they were restored to their former beauty. When Marge got a dog and needed to use the door wall for Cody, I overwintered my plants in my basement and they were dead by Christmas. I guess Marge had the gardener’s magic touch as I sure didn’t. I can remember as a young girl, my father would dig up his canna bulbs every Fall and store them in our fruit cellar where they were safe from those bitter cold climes that we endured in Oakville, Ontario. Come Spring, he’d bury them in the soil in raised beds. They would grow huge by mid-Summer and their colorful flowers attracted alot of hummingbirds to our house. I’ve never bothered with bulbs except for my amaryllis that I mentioned in a post a few weeks ago and it never survived after the first year. I’ve got no indoor plants now, and likewise, each year my outside landscaping, like my life, gets less and less complicated.

Primary colors seemed to be the theme of the day for me. Immediately after stepping outside the door to leave for my walk, I saw red when I discovered robin redbreast and his cohorts had deviously built two new nests. Now, I had not been outside Tuesday or Wednesday, except to venture to the front door to retrieve the mail. Those little devils seized the opportunity, just since getting yesterday’s mail mid-day, to pull out the bag I’d stuffed in the elbow of the coach lamp and throw it on the front porch and resume building their nest. Mud plops with grass strands sticking in them were all over the mailbox. Meanwhile, in the backyard, a fully formed nest had been built and was attached securely with mud atop the security light. Gritting my teeth, I marched to the garage and grabbed a broom and swept both nests down and carried them to the curb in my dustpan, much to the chagrin of the robins who watched my actions amidst significant chattering. Satisfied that I had disrupted their day, just as they had mine, I put the broom back, turned the car motor over, and set out on my walk. Out of the corner of my left eye, the sky was streaked with gray with dark brooding clouds, while out of my right eye, I saw a bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds. I assumed a positive outlook and decided no umbrella was needed and I left. The bright blue sky and green grass made for a picture-perfect day but it was windy and still a bit chilly, even though we have now turned the calendar page to May. There will be no dancing around the maypole today to celebrate Spring’s return – not with the temps hovering in the 50s . The large trees still haven’t leafed out. I enjoyed seeing a few touches of color here and there like one homeowner’s beautiful purple azalea bushes planted near some vibrant yellow forsythia bushes. The contrast was just exquisite. Similarly, I saw someone had paired purple and yellow cold-weather pansies which were bobbing their fragile-looking “faces” in the hint of wind. A couple of clumps of bright yellow daffodils looked perky and caught my eye. Soon after I spied this corner patch of purplish hyacinths and butter-yellow tulips that just cried out “Spring” as I walked by so I snapped this picture. That petite patch of color pacified me a bit as to Spring’s status, and I decided I had been so close to my own backyard dealing with the robins and not even bothered to check how my perennials were faring. Once home, I headed to the backyard, anticipating the progress of my lilies, lilacs, coneflowers, clematis and forget-me-nots as I walked along the side of the house … well, I had my own special kind of purple and yellow color combo going: a zillion purple mini violets and about a dozen or so yellow dandelions sprinkled through the grass. Lucky me to be blessed with such hardy specimens that are gracing my lawn, yet just the tiniest stubs of fleurs in progress in the garden beds. Those pesky weeds – I am red-faced indeed!

Well, this weather sure isn’t “ducky” for walking or doing any outside activity unless you have a bill and webbed feet. My friend and neighbor Marge sent me this picture of a gray duck she saw at Elizabeth Park, partly because I’ve whined and lamented so much about the lack of ducks at Council Point Park, and, also because she thought it was unique looking. Now, I’d never seen nor heard of a gray duck before, and neither had Marge, and we e-mailed back-and-forth as to whether it was indeed a goose or a duck. Thank goodness for Google because when I searched “Images” for gray duck, I came up with a ton of photos looking just like this guy, and what do you know … this duck is known as a “Gray Duck”. Obviously, our feathered friend is enjoying his puddle, but we can’t tell if he is wearing his galoshes or not … probably not as this weather for ducks is just perfect for him. I’ve hunkered down in the house the past two days, having myself a real “sneeze fest” plus I caught up on my sleep in the time I’d usually spend walking, because, after all, who wants to go walking when you have to duck for cover from a sudden downpour during these pesky April showers? Sadly, our long-awaited Spring of 2014 just isn’t all that it’s quacked up to be.

Well it was another blustery morning as I headed out of the house and down to Council Point Park. The sky was streaked with gray blotches and there was no hint of sun, just that ever-present wind for the third day in a row. Once again, I hunched down into my coat to shield myself from the gusts and was grateful for my wool cap and warm gloves. Why does it always seem to be extraordinarily windy when it is garbage day in the neighborhood? I pondered that very question enroute to the Park, as I walked along sidewalks while simultaneously dodging trash that had either gone airborne or spilled out of cans that were careening down the street. I concluded there are definitely alot of pizza eaters in the ‘hood because a flock of seagulls were circling and swooping down angrily on the many pizza boxes that had flipped open and were skittering across sidewalks and lawns. The dregs of a large Jet’s square pepperoni and cheese pizza made a tasty breakfast for those birds and they argued loudly over which gull would get the last piece of sticky cheese that had oozed out and glommed onto the box lid. This prized morsel created a whole lotta screeching going on as they circled around the box with much wing flapping and aggressive chest bumps.

When I arrived at the Park, I stepped onto the perimeter path and set out to explore my usual haunts along the trail. Almost instantly, my peanut pals came out in force to greet me. As a general rule, I give each squirrel four unsalted peanuts a day. Sometimes I make an exception – if they are especially cute, circle my feet or beg they’ll get an extra peanut for “effort” as I depart. This morning I stopped along the path and as usual tossed out four peanuts to one squirrel who scrambled down a tree and happily came bounding over, sniffing around my walking shoe toe top, then positioned himself in front of his booty. He was the only squirrel around so he just sat in the middle of the semi-circle of peanuts. He sat contently munching on the first treat, when the wind caught a roundish peanut and sent it rolling down the path, just like a marble. I saw his head swivel to the side as he watched his treat roll away, but I guess he was confident that his cache was secure, since none of his brethren were around, so he just kept eating the peanut which he held between his front paws. A series of sounds resembling “wheet”, “wheet” and then a lingering whistle, signaled a cardinal was nearby so I stayed there, planted in place. I recognized the birdcall right away as I used to buy safflower seeds to attract the cardinals to my backyard and they often built their nests in my huge barberry bushes. Many times these red birds and I would whistle back and forth as I worked out in the yard. I looked up, and from my vantage point I saw a beautiful and regal-looking male cardinal in a nearby tree. He was so close that I watched the intense wind ruffle his crest and chest feathers. While I enjoyed the cardinal’s beauty and listened to his call, just a split-second later, that bird jumped down from his branch and snatched up the wayward peanut that had strayed from the pile and returned to the tree. I wish you could have seen the look on the squirrel’s face – it was priceless. His back soon was up and no doubt HIS feathers were ruffled as well. Laughing, I admonished him for not securing his stash better and tossed him a couple more peanuts and in short order he resumed enjoying his treat, seemingly having forgotten about the cardinal incident.

I left that squirrel, fed a few others who came over eagerly looking for handouts and headed next to “Duck Landing” as I call the concrete precipice over the storm sewer drain and which picture I have included above. I had a half-bag of stale bread, which would surely grow mold or get even harder, if I don’t return to the Park until the weekend as they are forecasting rain every day this week. I just decided to bring it along for whomever – there are always takers. I climbed down the hill and looked around and decided the Duck Dynasty members have clearly vacated the premises as nary a duck was to be found. So, now it was ME whose feathers were ruffled! I opened the bread bag anyway, having decided to spread the wealth among the sparrows and starlings who flew or hopped over immediately from parts unknown once I had tossed those first tidbits on the ground. They appeared to relish the unexpected treat, and I was happy to brighten the day of my little feathered friends. Even though they are not ducks, they are somehow kin to Buddy and God’s creatures after all.