It is fitting to end February’s fury, that began on Groundhog Day, with this, my last Winter post *… yes, I’m so done with this wicked month, if not the entire Winter season. I’m sure many of you agree.
On February 1st, I went to the Park on a beautiful, sunny 35F (1.6C) morning. I left extra food and warned my pals we were in for a Winter wallop. I told them “don’t look for me for a week and don’t worry, I’ll be back. Watch out for the hawks; stay up in your nests.” Walking home I wondered aloud if I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs to help my Park pals find my house.
Then came the siege of icy and snowy weather.
As if the Groundhog Day snowstorm, (dubbed “Winter Storm Landon” by the Weather Channel), wasn’t enough, we’ve had a parade of Arctic Blasts, wintry-mix Alberta Clippers and high winds ever since.
Winter Storm Landon affected 90 million people. We actually lucked out with Landon. Even though it was originally termed “Snowapalozza” or “Snowmaggedon” those totals were tamped down a little after the warm temps hung on a bit longer than expected. We still had the freezing drizzle, then snizzle (a snow/rain wintry mix) before the snow had its turn at the podium. That two-day event yielded nearly a foot of ice-laden snow.
As you know by now, Pugsatawney Phil saw his shadow which meant six more weeks of Winter – ugh. Phil’s handler made that proclamation. Michigan’s Winter Weather Prognosticator, a/k/a “Woody” was given a reprieve, a “snow day” they said, because of the snowstorm.
But, when she emerged on Saturday, February 5th, surrounded by her fans and local news stations, our Woody had the same dire prediction, just not with such eloquent words; she simply took a look around and scurried back into her house.
Woody is a female and her predictions have been more accurate than Phil. They were both correct this year.
Walking, what little I’ve done, has not been fun. Every trek in February began with a few uneasy steps. I likened each journey to a person getting their “sea legs”i.e. their ability to achieve a level of comfort to be able to walk on a boat without worries of going overboard. When picking my way around ice, whenever possible, I do a little step, step, tap … the tap being a toe tap on the cement to ensure it’s not icy. An onlooker might see me and wonder if I’m squishing a bug.
On February 18th, while hefting shovelfuls of the ice-laden half-foot of snow, I barely gave a passing glance to the sun glinting on the ice-coated tree branches creating exquisite prisms, something I’d normally admire. No, I didn’t race into the house to grab the camera like I did for the first snowstorm of the new year on January 1st … nope, I said “ice, nice … whatever” and went back to huffing, puffing and hefting the heavy snow.
But, back to February – do we blame the fractious weather on Mother Nature’s mood swings?
Perhaps these Winter personalities should bear the brunt of our collective weather displeasure:
The weather folks consistently got their snowfall predictions wrong and finally just proclaimed “several inches of snow will fall” as opposed to giving a definitive amount. One meteorologist used the term “Weather Whiplash” because when it wasn’t icy and dicey, we’d have one day when temps would soar, ice would melt and the next day, refreeze and falling temps made it treacherous to step out of the house.
Thus, this meme was making the rounds on local social media sites.
Every meteorologist or weather site here in SE Michigan has their own unique description of the Winter weather.
I’m left scratching my head over this below distinction between “quite cold” and “very cold” – shouldn’t it be the opposite of what they put for the “real feel” category? For goodness sake, just say brrr!
Believe me, I am NOT the only one with Winter woes and an attitude.
Let’s have a look at some others, okay?
Even the snowman lost his mojo, toppled over and was down for the count. Talk about someone needing an attitude adjustment – sheesh!
People in our City complained about the two, separate, multiple-day snow emergency events instituted to get vehicles off the road for plowing purposes, or risk being towed, plus ticketed ($65.00) for not doing so. The emergency sirens screeched that warning at 6:00 a.m. every day the snow emergency was in effect as a not-so-subtle reminder. That screaming siren did not go over very well!
Even the sweet Council Point Park critters aired their grievances, like here at the pavilion area.
I arrived one morning to see a squirrel, standing partly in the snow and one front paw placed on the picnic table seat, his snow-covered face wearing an almost–defiant look.
I know the squirrels and birds steered clear of this picnic table for fear they would be impaled by one of these icy daggers.
It was okay with them, of course, if I walked under an icy dagger hanging from the roof while doling out treats … just sayin’.
Throughout February I’ve been a fair-weather friend to my Park pals. I suspect they’d give me an “F” for failing to show up on a regular basis, but icy sidewalks, snow-slickened roads, brutal cold and very high winds kept me away. Plus, sometimes I arrived to find the Park path snowy and not plowed or salted. Truly, it hurts my heart to disappoint them, but I was not about to take a nasty tumble necessitating a trip to the E.R. during a pandemic, but I fretted daily about my furry and feathered friends.
Each time I returned to the Park, I suspect my absence was forgiven as they came over to greet me. I imagine a thought bubble over a squirrel’s head the likes of “nice to finally grace us with your presence – we’re starving!” Or how about “Linda, be honest – are you seeing other squirrels?”
Wrangling walnuts: in a nutshell, Parker was a brat!
Even Parker, my always-amiable Park pal was disgruntled with the snow and seemingly with me.
As a youngster, I was always told to be happy with what I had and never ask for more. Perhaps I should impart that wisdom onto Parker. That little rascal got “hangry” with me and no, I didn’t hand him a Snickers bar to make him behave!
I never thought I’d say this, but since he is out of earshot and doesn’t follow my blog … “Parker was a brat!”
On this particular February morn, I might have even give myself a new moniker of “Linda the Juggler” as I was on foot and packing peanuts, sunflower seeds, two dishes of suet, a 1/2 bag of walnuts and a 1/2 bag of hazelnuts. With a wintry mix once again on the horizon, I knew walking would not fit into the immediate weather equation.
I arrived at the Park and began making the rounds to the three spots where I tender treats. Suddenly it began to flurry – hard. “Well that would curtail taking any pictures” I thought.
I received a warm welcome at the Safe Haven Tree that day – a Jay shrieking to herald my arrival and squirrels jockeying in position for treats. I had only one more “drop-off spot” on the other side of the Park, so I had reserved peanuts and sunflower seeds for that spot and I held onto a half-dozen walnuts in case I saw Parker.
Parker appeared, as if on cue, alone and with pleading eyes and parked himself at the side of the path. Having seen a hawk within the last week, I was wary of leaving the walnuts on the path, thus exposing him to a hawk. Also, I wanted to get home before it got too snowy and slick, so I steered my furry friend toward one of the small memorial trees. I laid out four walnuts on the snowy ground beneath the tree. He scurried over, took one walnut and sat next to the tree to nosh on it.
Then he returned for another walnut, and ran up the tree with it …
… then tucked it into a little space in the tree for safekeeping.
Here, let me hone in on this treasure.
He then zoomed back down the trunk and went for another walnut. I figured he’d eat it on the spot, but no, he looked around, then buried it.
I waited patiently and told Parker “okay, I’m going under this tree to keep the camera from getting wet – c’mon and eat your walnuts so Linda can take some more photos of you.”
Yes, I got a few pictures. Then he did something peculiar, even for Parker. He went up into the tree and chattered at me, all the while swishing that bushy tail back and forth. I asked him what his problem was.
There I was handing off what I figured were the crème de la crème of squirrel treats and he was complaining. Obviously my words did not fizz on him, because the weirdness continued as he hurried, headfirst, down the tree trunk and over to the toe of my hiking boots. I swiveled around to get a photo of that, but he started not only tugging on my sweatpants, but scaling up my leg. Then I felt a tug pulling the plastic bag with the peanuts and seeds downward. No pics on any of these activities, so you will have to trust me on that. I had slipped the handle of the bag on my arm so it was out of the way to take pictures. I assume he could smell the peanuts. So, was he going for the peanuts as I hadn’t put any out for him? It sure looked like it. I stepped back and gestured with my hand that this was a “no-no” and the peanuts and sunflower seeds were for the squirrels and birds at the next stop.
He got an attitude and went up the tree and walked to the end of the branch and chattered at me again.
I then began to wonder if it was a Parker imposter. He looked like he was about to spring onto me to get to the bag, I stepped back and said “stop that now!” I went to leave and he jumped down and circled around me once again. I left the rest of the walnuts and said “I’m outta here” when I saw another Fox squirrel out of the corner of my eye – the two clashed, tussling in the snow. I got out of there as his attitude was unnerving me a little.
Happily I made it home without being caught in a snow squall, which happened to me on Christmas Day one year when I lingered too long, a squall erupted and that mile-long walk home was treacherous.
To help me “think Spring” I’ve booked two virtual 5Ks for 2022, “Happy Soles” for Fish & Loaves Food Pantry at Heritage Park and “Run for the Trees” to benefit Michigan’s reforestation efforts via a seed re-planting program by prisoners. That DNR-sponsored event is at a site of your choosing. Tomorrow is March 1st – a new month which hopefully is better than February was.
* Alas, this is not my last Winter post. I wrote this post Saturday afternoon. Yesterday I had good intentions to go to the Park, walk a lot, feed my Park critters, then come home and work on compiling the tax paperwork. I looked outside – Mr. Sun was shining brightly, no ice or snow, a tad cold, even windy, but all my good intentions came to a halt. Instead, I enjoyed four hours walking and taking photos in two parks, BUT … those upcoming posts will be crowing about a February day, not whining about it. 🙂
I was walking along the perimeter path at Council Point Park a few weeks ago. On that day, the City had neither plowed, nor salted, the walking path, even though they’ve been good about doing so the past few years. Thankfully, the big dump truck that collects trash from the bins along the path, had left tire marks that effectively smashed down the 9.2 inches/23 cms of snow we gleaned from Winter Storm Landon. While I traipsed along, mindful of the possible icy patches lurking beneath the snow, I deposited seeds and peanuts for my furry and feathered friends, who immediately started chowing down.
There was only one other diehard walker I encountered that morning. The weather, always a common topic of conversation among walkers, brought grumbling and his declaration that “Winter is for the birds!” I agreed and tucked that thought away to use for a blog title some day.
After we parted, I dwelled on that statement, because if you took those words literally, that would be a misnomer for sure. I mused that, after all, how unlikely would any Michigan bird embrace Winter, unless it had a guaranteed food source, like a backyard bird feeder or suet at its disposal? A heated birdbath would really sweeten the pot. Winter sure isn’t an opportunity for a bird like a woodpecker to grab a grub or two simply by shimmying up the tree and I’m pretty sure, even the hardiest Robin who hangs around the Mitten State during the Winter months, would find it near impossible to rustle up a worm from the snowy grass. Berries are long gone too – nope, it is NOT a time of joy for our feathered friends.
The 2022 Great Backyard Bird Count.
This past weekend, February 18th through 21st, was/is the 25th annual “Great Backyard Bird Count”, a four-day event in which anyone, (not just birders), is encouraged to report the birds seen in a 15-minute period on any one of the four days.
My wings have been clipped for weeks thanks to an ice-covered driveway that has made it treacherous to even back the car out of the garage, so any bird-viewing venture was to be done on foot.
My plan to participate was simple – instead of reporting on the Sparrows that take shelter in my backyard, tucking themselves into bushes, or huddling together on the back windowsills, my intended mission was to report on the birds at Council Point Park, specifically at the Weeping Mulberry Memorial Tree that I’ve coined The Safe Haven Tree.
However, this was still another plan best left in my head, not committed to action. Friday morning (the 18th) I spent shoveling out still another Winter dumping of ice-laden snow – this time it was 6.8 inches/17 cms. Saturday morning, we had single-digit wind chills and blowing and drifting of new snow. Sunday did not look promising either, so I resorted to Plan “B” i.e. my backyard.
Yes, I had set my sights on other songbirds, but I also wanted to participate in this event, so I shuffled to the backyard, camera in hand, tapping my foot while awaiting Sparrows. Now, not to disparage Sparrows, those salt-of-the-Earth brown birdies that seem to weather the elements year-around, (but are actually bullies that take over the nesting habitats of wrens and other small birds), but yes, they were my second choice. It was brutally cold and blustery and alas, I could not will the Sparrows to put in an appearance, so I needed a Plan “C” to get ‘er done.
Thus Plan “C” was implemented – you will read about Plan “C” at the TAIL end of this post.
I came inside, had some coffee to warm up, then went through my photo files to collect bird photos from 2021 to create this post.
Eyes on the Prize.
There is often a flurry of activity of “The Feathered Faithful” at the Safe Haven Tree after I stop to dole out sunflower seeds and peanuts beneath the canopy of branches that hopefully act as a deterrent against the dreaded Hawks that cruise overhead. I like to think that my feathered and furry friends are able to dine without fear of becoming the prey of those raptors.
I usually spread seeds and peanuts, then back out from the cramped space beneath the tree and stand and observe from the path. Almost immediately I see birds flitting to the ground upon my exit.
Since I began leaving food for my Park pals under the tree, this makeshift feeder now welcomes not only Blue Jays and Cardinals, but also Dark-eyed Juncos, Black-capped Chickadees and Purple Finches. Downy Woodpeckers and Red-Bellied Woodpeckers also show up to dine.
The Blue Jays are boisterous and screech to their brethren to alert the arrival of treats, then boldly swoop down, often in front of the squirrels to snatch a peanut. They are not intimidated by my presence in the least, as evident from the close-ups.
Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal are not as brave, often waiting politely in the branches until the others have gone and I include myself as one of those others. I don’t take it personally, but getting a picture of the other birds is tricky sometimes and only done several paces away from them. No Mister and Missus Cardinal in this post, but there was some activity with a seed bell I placed beneath the tree, which they promptly knocked over.
This Cardinal eyed the seed bell and a caption could be “go big or go home!”
Were they in cahoots to eat the seed bell?
I laughed at the smaller bird acting as a lookout. Hmm – I wonder what was in it for him/her?
Chickadees often blitz to the ground for a seed, then back up to a branch before I get a chance to get a photo, so I was lucky this day, although I was too far away to get a clear close-up.
I took suet trays several times, including pecan suet that is favored by Woodpeckers. That was fun as I lured a Downy Woodpecker who shall be named Dempsey going forward. Here is Dempsey shimmying up and around the trunk of the tree, occasionally peeking around to check my whereabouts.
As far as I can tell, the only Red-bellied Woodpecker at this Park is a male I’ve dubbed Rex. Rex swoops over, lands on a branch, then promptly drops to the ground to nibble on suet or snag a peanut.
Male Northern Cardinal.
Did you look closely at that beautiful Cardinal pictured up top? If so, you probably could have called me out for tricking you, because this male Cardinal with its vibrant plumage, black “mask” and distinctive crest, one of the most-recognizable birds in North America, is NOT a real bird.
Wait, what? Are you going to scroll to the top and check it out now?
Over the years, at our house Cardinals were a popular Christmas decoration with tree ornaments, plates – even holiday mugs collected through the years.
The header image is one such Christmas ornament, a National Audubon Society Cardinal, designed to be clipped onto a Christmas tree bough, where it nestles life-like in the branches. But sadly, after purchasing this Cardinal ornament, although this porcelain bird is not heavy, it sagged down the branches of our miniature tree and could not be positioned any way without toppling over sideways. Similarly, clipping the Cardinal ornament onto a wreath did not work well either, so it remained in the box, year after year, until I took it outside, clipped it onto the branch of a snowy Nana Hinoki Cypress bush. Voila, a Winter bird for my post!
Were you fooled? Do you need proof it is not a real bird? Here is the big reveal … the tail and Audubon authenticity stamp.
My annual Valentine’s Day post is usually brimming with images of spoiled-rotten squirrels scurrying around and devouring heart-shaped treats, but this year I decided I’d do something different.
I’ve mentioned before that my late mother’s birthday was Valentine’s Day – she would have turned 96 years old today. I want to share this story as I remember Mom with much love.
Many years ago, prior to meeting and marrying my father, Mom had a good friend named Harry. As I understand it, Harry was not a suitor, (a rather archaic term for a man who pursues a romantic relationship with a woman with the expectation of marriage), nor was he a gentleman caller, the likes of the gents mentioned in the play The Glass Menagerie – Harry and my mom were just good friends.
Harry’s passion.
Everyone has a passion … for a person, or a hobby and Harry’s passion was art. He loved to draw and paint. The two images you see in this post were created by Harry. This painting of Mom in a business suit was given to her when she completed her curriculum at Shaw Business College in Toronto.
The other painting is the header image of Mom wearing a blouse, which color surely would have rivaled her blue eyes. She is wearing the locket that will be the subject of today’s post.
Harry had a heart of gold and he gave Mom a heart of silver.
Mom was lucky to have Harry in her life. She told me he doted on her, was kind and thoughtful and sometimes gave her presents, like the sterling silver, heart-shaped locket she is wearing in the photo up top. It was a present for her 20th birthday. Truthfully, I’ve often wished Harry would have become her husband – perhaps she would have had an easier life than that with my father, but of course my musings are silly because I wouldn’t be here then.
A local high-end jewelry store runs a radio advertisement for their jewelry exchange. The ad asks “do you have heirloom jewelry which is outdated and you don’t like – well we can take it off your hands for you.” Well, being a sentimental sort, this ad makes me a little sad. I had two treasured pieces of jewelry given to me by my mother and I lost both of them.
The first was this pretty silver locket and I remember that day like it was yesterday.
Mom gave it to me on Valentine’s Day when I was a young girl. She asked me if I would like to wear it to school for Valentine’s Day, and, if I liked it, it would become mine. “Do you like it Linda?” she asked. “Oh yes – I love it Mommy!” was my instant reply. The locket was beautifully crafted, with engraved etchings on the case. Inside was powder blue satin with a plastic insert on one side in which to place a photo, but the locket was empty. Mom slipped the chain over my head and even double-checked the clasp to ensure it was fastened securely. As you see in the photo, the locket was on a fairly long chain, which links were delicate and ornate. I got to school and showed my friends and while in class, I fiddled with the locket, opening and closing that heart, plus twiddling and twisting the chain. Sadly, while walking home from school that afternoon, perhaps my coat or scarf had become entangled with the jewelry, which caused the chain to break and fall into the snow. My father and my friends retraced my steps home and we checked the hallways at school to no avail.
If I were my mom, I would have been angry and never given me a piece of jewelry again, but when I was a little older, (and hopefully more sensible), Mom gifted me with another piece of jewelry, a small and delicate gold ring with her amethyst birthstone.
At least I had that ring longer than a few hours, but, not long afterward, I was at the movie theater with my parents and in twisting and playing with the ring, it slipped off my finger, and, though we searched between seat cushions and scoured the floor, the ring was lost forever. That time my mom was angry at me and said “I have no more jewelry pieces to give you now Linda.”
I was crushed, but also remorseful for being so reckless and irresponsible.
Years later I lost a hatpin my grandmother gave me to secure my hat to walk to St. Helen’s church for Midnight Mass and I wrote about that incident a few years ago. If you’d like to read that post, you can find it by clicking here.
All these years later, those incidents bother me, but the loss of Mom’s heart-shaped locket especially tugs at my heartstrings every February 14th.
… on a cold and snowy Saturday when I began this blog – February 11, 2013 to be exact.
The title of that first post was the same as the title for my blog: “Walkin’, Writin’, Wit & Whimsy” and I felt compelled for some reason to have a second title, i.e.“LINDA’S BIG ADVENTURE: ENTERING “THE BLOGOSPHERE.”
Shakespeare said it best: “Brevity is the soul of wit” and I get it … I can be witty, but long-winded too, just like that very first blog post.
Even the title of my blog is long and I used to think I should have used a short and succinct title that has a nice ring to it, maybe “Walk and Talk” – or maybe not. I actually like walking alone as it gives me time to think or just let my mind be a blank sometimes, until a squirrel runs over and looks up at me with pleading eyes. Yep, I see you kiddo, so I’ll just put my thoughts on “pause” for a few minutes.
As to the short blog title, on occasion, I’d be out walking and taking pictures and in the course of doing that, someone may happen by and we may begin chit-chatting. I’d mention my blog and they’d ask for the title as they simultaneously whipped out their smartphone. So, I’d start reciting the title, giving them the entire name first, pausing to stress there’s an ampersand and to be sure to drop the “g” on the first two words – by then they usually lost interest. So, I finally ordered some cards from Vistaprint to hand out.
That worked out pretty well if the person has good eyesight. The business card is cute, but some of the words are smaller than a font used in the White Pages. I know that comparison may leave some of you youngsters scratching your head.
Because the Walkin’ and Writin’ parts are easier to fulfill, I sometimes feel the need to bolster the Wit and Whimsy portions. I’m having lots of fun doing those categories.
Sigh … sometimes I just can’t help myself.
One of my 2022 New Year’s resolutions was to use up all the blog photos I’ve taken in 2021, then start anew. This was an effort to be more timely in posting about treks I’ve taken. But, even though my picture files are groaning with images from at least five treks last year, plus photo fodder for countless Wordless Wednesday posts, I cast that resolution aside, sauntered out the door, camera in hand, multiple times already in this young year because I felt the need to take pictures of the snowy and icy landscapes and to show you my shivering pals at Council Point Park who wish I would bring cocoa and cookies along with the usual fare and occasional treats more befitting them. Then I also found some fun pics in a Wintertime stroll around the ‘hood. When I first began my blog, some fellow bloggers lived in warm climates and had never seen snow in person – or, it was a rarity. Now, thanks to climate change, almost all of you, even in warmer climes, find ice and snow to be the new normal.
So, I broke that resolution, but hey – I’ve broken every other 2022 New Year’s resolution and, in record time, I might add. Maybe next year, I will round up a few of my favorite posts of the past decade. This is one of those favorite posts. Parker is the cutest critter at the Park, the subject of many “A Girl and her Squirrel” posts and sometimes a spoiled brat. You’ll be reading about that bad behavior in an upcoming post.
‘Tis the season for sharin’ the love.
This is my all-time favorite picture of Parker from that particular post back in 2020 and since we are on the cusp of Valentine’s Day, I’ll use the occasion to share it again. He looked so cute I wanted to scoop him up and take him home with me.
Today, on my blogiversary, it is Post #1,693. I know I have lots to say and future posts are already bubbling around in my brain, so I hope you stick around for a long time. I enjoy interacting with all of you and for my fellow bloggers, I hope you are enjoying your blogging experience as much as I enjoy mine.
Just a handful of days ‘til the Big Game! That’s right … the Puppy Bowl! Query: is there another Big Game? Just askin’ (and just kiddin’).
Right place, right time.
Saturday, January 22nd found me strolling along the circular road at beautiful Elizabeth Park. I was moving quickly, intending to stray over to the boardwalk to get a few shots of the icy Detroit River, then hightail it home. It was brutally cold that morning and I had already visited Council Point Park where I took photos of my furry friends using their fluffy tails to keep warm, plus a forlorn feline chomping on frozen fish.
The hottest ticket in town.
It was pure serendipity that I chose to walk counter-clockwise on the road that encircles Elizabeth Park. As luck would have it, I secured an invitation to the Waterfowl Corn Bowl! Even better, I didn’t have to pay an outrageous price for this event, nor did I need to wait in line, or go online, to score a primo, front-row seat. Now YOU are lucky to be privy to this event as you scroll through this post.
So grab a tub of popCORN (unbuttered and unsalted please) …
… because this is guaranteed to be way more interesting than watching the cutie-pie participants in the Puppy Bowl, or even that prime-time event played with hulking humans a/k/a The Big Game.
Who knew Your Roving Reporter would suddenly become a sideline reporter for this feathery fracas? Hmm – how would I remember the details of stats and points as I had not brought along a pencil and a notepad?
It was Team Quack versus Team Honk. There was no tailgating to be had – after all, I was the only spectator. My head swiveled around and I noticed any and all referees were MIA; there were no robot refs either. Hmm – who would deal with any flagrant fowls, er … fouls? As the game got underway, I wondered what team would triumph and win the coveted LomBIRDi trophy in this clash of wriggling bodies.
Game Day: Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words.
Team Quack players were chillin’ before game time.
“Whoa – we gotta go!“
Team Honk players finished warm-ups and were resting.
Slowly the Honks took to the field.
The first toss and it was every waterfowl for themselves.
A few committed fowls, er …fouls and were promptly ejected.
Yep, this is what a bunch of benched Quacks look like.
The Quacks huddled, then stumbled and bumbled a bit.
“We’re falling behind – we need to get fueled up fast!“
“The Honks win!” (So says the squirrelly Ref who finally showed up.)
The Quacks were sore losers and beat a hasty retreat.
The Honks had a celebration snack and the Quacks’ coach joined them.
Coach Canuck said “I’m glad you didn’t let those Quacks run all over you!“
Coach Canuck suggested EVERYONE hit the showers.
Co-ed and co-species showers – well, what’s a little more mayhem??
One Honk remained – he was part of the clean-up crew.
Coach said “you can skip the Gatorade bath ‘cuz I’m outta here and please – no TOMfoolery with that LomBIRDi Trophy!”
Postscript: This entire event took ten minutes tops. Of course you think I was the instigator of this mayhem and muddle of Mallards and Canada Geese. Nope. The tub of corn was mine though … I bought it for the Park pals who thought it was meh and didn’t munch on it much.
I was ready to head to the boardwalk, when a van pulled over to the side of the road, a man hopped out and waterfowl soon began converging nearby. I stayed to watch. The man was throwing corn to the Mallards and Canada Geese. A lot of corn. A white poodle sat in the passenger seat watching his master dole out scoop after scoop of corn. Then abruptly those treats ceased as the man got into the van, patted his dog on the head, gave me a wave and drove off. I didn’t even get a chance to interview him!
This was the scene he left behind. I stayed there to ensure nobody ran into the road and got hurt.
Eat hearty! If you squint, you’ll see the Squirrelly Ref waiting in the wings for corn.
The Big Game is this Sunday as you are probably aware. Here in Michigan, most people are rooting for former Detroit Lions Quarterback Matthew Stafford, who asked to be traded to the RAMS last year as he wanted to play in the Super Bowl one day, which likely would not have happened if he remained a Lion.
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 