Tag Archives: birds

Let’s play.

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Interesting. The 6th picture on my phone takes us back to July of 2013 when the husband rescued a baby robin from the middle of our road.

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He lived with us for almost a month and we named him Little Cheeper. As you can see he was also a little pooper.

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He was a sweet little guy and I fattened him up with worms, canned dogged food and fruit. I hand trained him, and before long he was flying all over the house.

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It was tempting to keep him as a pet…

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But in the end I couldn’t, and we let him fly free in our backyard.

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But back to the game…

Little Cheeper killing me?

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Nah, I’m not buying it.

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Random nonsense around the house…

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It’s a shame chokecherries are bitter and nearly impossible to eat…

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Because our tree is just loaded with them this year.

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But speaking of eating…. when your neighbors start dumping tons of veggies on your doorstep because no one ever grows a few zucchini? Try this:

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Slice, dip in beaten egg, then Italian breadcrumbs, lightly fry in olive oil and serve with lemon herb aioli. Fabulous!

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In other news, the turkeys are still here and my husband is still chasing them.

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I’m laughing because he was about to lose his pants running after them. (Don’t tell him I posted this, I’d never hear the end of it.) And while I normally think the daily chasing is ridiculous as well as fruitless…. you’re not going to out stubborn a wild turkey …. those little bastards have eaten every single one of our blueberries this year. On all 7 bushes! And that means no blueberry pie, no blueberry coffee cake, no pancakes or muffins. Damn their feathered souls!

😡

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I watched the White Sox beat the Yankees on the Field of Dreams the other night. (That’s Kevin Costner in the photo.) I’m an unapologetic sucker for that movie. Never been able to watch it without thinking of my father and crying like a baby.

If I’m ever in Iowa? I am damn sure going to Dyersville and walking through that corn.

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I blamed the wrong critter.

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Ever since we painted the barn/man cave the perfect shade of red, I’ve been sputtering about recovering the porch furniture because now… it clashes.

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I recently bought some color coordinated fabric and found a local woman who’s going to do the job.

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Me… sew? Yeah, that’s not happening. So while I was waiting for the seamstress to tell me she was done with prom and wedding dress alterations, I saw this:

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WTH?

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The edges of all the cushions had been shredded!

I ranted, I blamed woodchucks. I cursed, I blamed mice. I sputtered, I blamed chipmunks. But guess what?

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The real culprit..

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Was a bird looking for nesting material.

Mother Nature. She has all manner of ways to drive you crazy.

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I love my town

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What passes for news in my little corner of the world might seem silly to some….

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But I like to think of our Facebook page as the New York Times of happy living.

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You’ll be glad to know this crisis was averted.

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I’m not sure if this a thing in your area, but in Maine late spring means it’s time to thin and divide the perennials. Some people sell them in their front lawn, but more often than not the bounty is simply shared.

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Go home Freyr. I don’t care how tasty the tuna is down the road.

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That’s one fluffy little cock.

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Damn. No one ever drops roosters off at our house.

🥴

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A duck rumble

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Our pair of visiting mallards is so cute. The male follows the female around the yard like a lost puppy and sits patiently while she nibbles.

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But then….

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Two rival males arrived.

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He chased them, he flew at them, he put his head down and charged them but nothing worked.

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They just kept moving closer.

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Right after I took this picture he went full ninja duck on their ass and finally drove them off. The Mrs? She was not impressed and simply kept eating.

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Ducks vs woodchuck

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The bowl of deer grain is popular, with everyone but the deer for whom it is intended.

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Our resident woodchuck, (named Chuck because we’re creative that way) loves it…

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But so do our new friends the ducks.

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It’s first come first serve at Casa River, and no matter how much posturing and maneuvering the waterfowl did…

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Chuck reigned supreme.

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And even barked at them when they got too close. I’ve been known to do the same around my margaritas, so I don’t judge.

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