Sunday, June 30, 2019

After rounding a corner, I saw perched nearby two very blue birds. It’s nearly three weeks after my barn’s early summer batch of bluebird babies fledged. Now, some or all of those now-maturing birds are returning to re-establish territory and help the parents feed new nestlings. They needn’t build a nest, for the same silly fragile one they established last year will do. Or will it? A month ago, a then-tiny baby fell out. Frtunately, I discovered the helpless thing before my cat saw it, and transferred that little bitty to a wild bird rescue. After that, my cat unhappily stayed indoors until the remaining nestlings matured and fledged. That was for me “bluebird round one.”

When this group’s newly-laid eggs hatch, I’ll renew bluebird watching. It’s a concern that new hay arriving soon could boost my cat toward their high nest in a tiny crevice. So, when we first hear new babies, I’ll count the days and watch for dropouts from the nest. As time for fledging draws near, the cat will find himself housebound.

A housebound Maxwell introduces the other problem of ensuring my tiny new canary’s safety. Her small cage isn’t strong enough to discourage the aggressive cat. So, in the upcoming weeks, I’ll be creative to provide her with a safer environment. Regardless, that’s anyway necessary before we’re faced with winter’s coldest days, when my cat stays indoors.

Dear Friends, Marauding birds can’t stumble across my bluebirds’ crevice nest. Diana

Saturday, June 29, 2019

The Bend Bulletin (and its Redmond version) has been sold to a Rhode Island investor group (a subsidiary of a Canadian newspaper). Here’s hoping the Bulletin lives on and becomes a better, more rounded newspaper. My interest in it stems from having followed the early Bulletin’s beginnings, in Bend’s “baby 1900s”, when a very young entrepreneur George Putnam purchased the newspaper. Putnam was an adventurer and writer who later became Bend’s mayor. His newspaper columns described the struggles, needs, and the growth of that vigorously developing community.

Putnam arrived in Bend in the early 1900s. The home he designed and built near Drake Park still stands. It’s one of this city’s earliest dwellings and was a short walk to his Bulletin office. Putnam in history seems almost a bigger-than-life character–tall, brawny, outdoorsy. In the approximately 10 years it took to build a railroad track from the Hood River to Bend, he personally walked the entire distance of track during its construction, writing about his experiences. It’s an amazing story of track-building, involved two railroads competing to build the Hood River to Bend track, in a race that involved desperation and gun fights.

Putnam’s foresight and courage documented much of Bend’s early history. But just before 1920, he had to leave Bend and assume responsibility for his family’s major publishing business in New York. Always a colorful character, he eventually married Amelia Earhart and subsidized and publicized her air flights.

After Putnam and over many years, the Bulletin evolved into a conservative publication. These days in a changing Bend culture, the newspaper couldn’t keep up with modern perspectives. Indeed, this city is a “new Bend”. It’s filling with incoming retirees, many bringing a more liberal perspective that surprises and confounds long-time residents. These changing times and a new out-of-town publisher might reinvigorate today’s rather dull Bulletin.

Dear Friends, Bend’s early history is an exciting wild-west story, worth exploring. Diana

Friday, June 28, 2019

Hello to a cloudless sky–the first thing I noticed upon waking today. To be sure, I walked outside, looked around, and found above only blues. This sky is quite in contrast to those in the past several days. They covered us with thick roiling clouds and delivered huge doses of thunder and lightening, rain and hail. This very welcome change will make today lovely. If our sky stays as clear as now, the July 4th picnics will win out.

I worked yesterday and saw crowds of baskets roll by, loaded with all sorts of makings for hot dogs, hamburgers, and items to be grilled. Shoppers were in good moods and seemed excited about planned events. It wasn’t a day for teasing, even those we know as very fastidious eaters, about pushing carts loaded with meat-heavy foods.

The population is expanded from visiting relatives and curious tourists. The streets so full of vehicles that driving is slow and stopping for red lights frequent. For me, it’s a mitzvah–working on the same side of town where I live. In my experience, driving to the “other side” feels like I’m coping all over again with L.A. street traffic.

A co-worker reminded me that July 4 is the date of the annual Pet Parade. Whew!, for I must get my crowd-pleasing donkey Pimmy ready to march. She’ll need a bump-up of her red, white, and blue costume, and also maybe a new hat sporting pretty spring flowers. We had a great time marching last year. The mile and a half is a venue that’s crowded, noisy, full of excitement, and where Pimmy is a popular sight. I’ll talk to a friend who has small grandchildren. They love the donkey and one or both kids might be able to ride her in the Parade.

Dear Readers, it’s amazing, how suddenly a new quiet sky elevates moods. Diana

Thursday, June 27, 2019

In yesterday’s heavy rain and dimness, I crawled on the freeway from Lebanon and Sweet Home, on through the Deadwood Canyon, and as slowly to Highway 20 and over the Cascades. The rain began clearing after Suttle Lake Resort, and rounding the big curve that introduces a long, straight stretch of Highway 20 toward Sisters.

Occasionally over the years, I’ve been in my driving trainer’s Lebanon barn when rains hit hard. West valley rains, strong and blustery, noisy and cold, are crazy and relatively brief. Yesterday on leaving Lebanon, I assumed the drops landing on my truck windows wouldn’t last long, and boy, so wrong!

The dozen freeway miles between Lebanon and Sweet Home suffered heavy, driving, and blinding rain that made it impossible for rear mirrors to reveal vehicles coming from behind, and nearly as impossible to see vehicles ahead of my truck. Between Sweet Home and Deadwood Canyon, the rain became less severe; but not in the Canyon with lots of heavy rain. I worried about rain entering the trailer and hitting my horses, and about thunder because we’d be in very high places. It was comforting to recall that rubber tires help to insulate a vehicle against lightening strikes. This is an idea from hearsay that yesterday I chose to believe.

Years ago in an early fall drive through Deadwood, with my friend Doodle as passenger, we were surprised by a sudden heavy snow that turned quickly into an icy-slippery mess that overwhelmed my two-wheel drive SUV. We managed for the next hour or so to crawl through the Canyon at 10-15 mph. That slow careful speed got us over the next dozen miles of Santiam Pass–very busy, with drivers moving slowly. Fortuitously, that happened to be a final day before Oregonians legally could install studded tires.

After I arrived home and unloaded the horses, my friend Virginia called to make sure I landed safely, for it als0 had rained hard here. She had attempted earlier to contact me without a response. Unfortunately, cell signals are rare in mountain and canyon areas.

This year has been unusually wet in our high desert and beyond. Last evening, working around the barn, I saw bunches of new Russian thistle replacing those I pulled the day before. Since it’s still too wet to spray, more pulling ahead!

Dear Friends, Preceding the storm, our driving-training sessions were terrific. Diana

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Yesterday, had a late start on homework, following a pleasant meeting for coffee and catch-up with a friend, but completed much that was needed. First on my list were horses. They’d been looking a little too slim from lots of exercise and had been receiving extra nutrition, making (especially) Rosie a bit hotter, giving her an edge that regular exercise could soften; but with a major holiday coming, I was called to work on more days than usual and couldn’t exercise the horses.

Today we’re traveling to our driving trainer in Lebanon. Yesterday while coming home, I thought about loading the horses for a long ride ahead. The perky Rosie, especially, might not load easily. So, my immediate goals were to exercise horses. Sunni went on a three-mile drive through the neighborhood, and Rosie trotted on long-lines for the equivalent of three miles. A couple of times, she managed to get loose and galloped, wildly and happily with long ropes streaming behind. I let her go, as a way of working off more steam, until she felt like stopping and cooperating. Finally, both horses seemed ready for next-day loading.

For me there was more, like transferring equipment from barn hooks to the truck’s back seat, filling hay bags and water containers, and going for gasoline. To fill out the afternoon, I grabbed a container and went after the Russian thistle springing up everywhere. Oh, I despise that horrible plant which experience teaches pulls up more easily when its young. In the evening it rained, no doubt encouraging lots of new thistle plants, and destroying my plan to spray weeds this week.

Dear Friends, Everything will be here still, when I return to start over. Diana

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Reader friends, you’re aware that I work part-time in our local Costco as a sample-server. This is the week leading up to July 4, and the store is super busy. I’ve been called in to work more days than usual. Upon entering the store, I’ve been attracted to a highly visible display of balloons for sale. Our little city in Central Oregon is surrounded by lakes, and right now also is loaded with tourists. Daily, those those balloon packages in customers’ shopping carts have passed my sample stations.

We’re learning much about discarded plastics, how they forever can clog our waterways. On social media, photo after photo turns up showing beached wales, dead or dying from stomachs full of balloons and other plastics. An entire industry is springing up around trying to clean the ocean of plastic debris. There’s a growing public movement against using plastics.

We sample servers are led to understand that Costco has a new policy of “no plastics”, at least to an extent affecting our business of offering food samples. The word coming down is that we’re to avoid setting out plastic utensils with samples, unless there’s an absolute necessity for a utensil to facilitate swallowing food. We sample servers are trying to sort this out in relation to food products.

If what our managers are saying is accurate, that “no more plastics” is a new Costco policy, what’s the deal with the store selling plastic balloons? Even if our manager is somewhat mistaken about this no-plastics policy, what’s right about Costco selling bunches of balloons?

The packaged BunchOBalloons are easy-fill, and according to their promo burbs, bunches at once can be filled. Hey, it’s easy, lots of fun! And folks, think about it, lots of pollution, dangerous enough to spoil waters and destroy wildlife.

Every year as we approach the upcoming holiday, I’m unhappy about related merchandise, namely explosives. Even the minor ones, like sparklers, can cause injuries and start fires. And nearly all the noises from firecrackers and rockets terrify pets.

But merchandise like these balloons probably are the worst, for we’re learning about the damages that plastics are capable of doing. And that it’s a material that doesn’t naturally dissipate and disappear from public waters and spaces.

Dear Friends, Products and marketing changes are necessary for health’s sake. Diana

Monday, June 24, 2019

I have promised myself to avoid taking on new critters. Those with me need appropriate “time with mom” and it’s a stretch to pay them enough attention. The problem is that my time is taken by exercising two athletic horses. The horses used to facilitate my activities with dogs–they ran alongside on horseback trails. Now I’m in a vehicle, driving the horses, and my dogs don’t know to avoid wheels. I must take time to play with my Cockatoo, Peaches, or otherwise, he’d never shut up. My cat Maxwell is independent; and Gilbert, my rescued racing pigeon, is happy without much handling.

Recently, on hearing that a young canary, named Stella, needed a home, how could I resist? I love and have experience with domestic birds, so could adding a tiny bird make much difference? And, isn’t she a pretty one!

A hand-raised chick, Stella wasn’t handled frequently and tries to avoid captures, but yields once in hand–and so tiny! She’s much lighter than my other birds. What’s happening is that I want to work with her, have her accustomed to being captured and held, and develop whatever’s possible beyond the basics.

She’s a charmer, alert, fun to watch, and curious about everything. She could be more than cute eye candy. I’ll be on a quest to understand more the species from aficionados. A place to start is YouTube, with videos introducing canaries, showing those trained or how to train, and elaborating on the bird’s potential and maintenance.

Stella at one year old could live another 15 years! We’ll begin knowing how much there is to love about canaries as this new relationship evolves.

Dear Friends, Birds are commitments–learning experiences and lots of fun. Diana

Sunday, June 23, 2019

During our wild wet spring, my plant-identifying phone app alerted me to a gratuitous sunflower sprouting in an otherwise empty flower bed beside my house. Recently, I had been reminded of, years-ago, experiencing a sense of delight upon spotting a giant sunflower in the arms of a person walking ahead of me. I decided to let this new sprout grow and hoped for an ultimate gigantic “flower of sunshine”.

I even delighted in recording its growth progress.

• 

• 

The plant stayed upright and healthy-looking for weeks, but one day I noticed a black ant parked on it. This was curious because I like ants and pretty much am familiar with the varieties inhabiting my place. This ant was unusual looking and I took note.

A few days later, I paused to admire my sunflower and noticed several of its leaves looking ragged, where each leaf junctions to its spine (which extends and attaches to the plant’s main branch). I turned the damaged leaves over and examined them without finding aphids or another kind of culprit.

Yesterday, on passing my sunflower, clearly the damaged had increased, and this time I saw that (same?) black ant parked on a leaf. As I watched, the ant took off. It traveled quickly across the leaf and over to the main branch, before pausing. Long enough for me to grab a photo. Here’s the thing, folks, I’ll swear that ant recognized me eyeing it and had been hurrying to escape.

My phone has a critter-identifying app, but it’s not very accurate and it didn’t recognize the black ant. I did some research, revealing that ants on sunflowers are common, and among the big variety of predators are imported fire ants. But this guy doesn’t have a fire ant’s reddish features. My ant is more similar to this pictured variety.

Now that I understand what’s been attacking my plant’s leafs, the questions are, why only one black ant? Am I simply not seeing others? Could one ant alone create so much visible leaf destruction? Did my lone ant happen to fall from the sky?

This will become an exploration for the truth. My next steps are to eliminate this intruder, record the currently damaged leafs, and be on the lookout for more ants and damages. Meanwhile, I’ll find a more useful critter identifier app and conduct more research on the internet.

And, about believing that the ant was watching me watching it. They’re really smart creatures and worthy of great appreciation and some respect, as long as they keep to their knitting without becoming unpleasantly intrusive.

Dear Friends, I hoped a hummingbird might pick off that ant, but no dice. Diana

Saturday, June 22, 2019

He can drive me nuts, this cat (an inside-outside guy) who’s lived with me for 10 years. When he’s outside I worry, because he’s a capable hunter, and hopefully, not capturing critters that I love, like birds, chipmunks, lizards, and bunnies. When he’s inside I worry, because he’s under my feet–easy to be stepped on or tripped over. When I’m exhausted from hard physical work and want nothing near me, he insists on cuddling in my lap. At bedtimes, I find the sound-sleeping lump on my favorite pillow or somewhere on my side of the bed. Oh, Max!

As cats go, he might be one of the coolest, unafraid of my dogs and human visitors. Outside, he knows my property’s every nook and cranny and attends to spots where he anticipates finding victims. He leaps onto the top edges of my horses’ watering troughs and expertly balances to drink. He scoots past the goats to avoid getting butted, and slips into the chicken coop to hunt mice. (He’s a lousy mouser, plays with the critters until he gets bored, and often then releases them.)

In harsh winters when I feed birds, Maxwell must stay indoors. He’s always on a window sill, watching the feeders with desire written all over him. In summertime, I feed only hummingbirds with feeders hanging too high for Max to reach. He’s smart enough to stay way clear of Cockatoo Peaches’ capable beak. Recently, I adopted a young canary–she’s tiny and flits around in her cage, while he’s fascinated, can’t stop trying to get to her. This summer, the easy fix is that Max goes outside and Stella (the bird) perches safely near a window. By winter, I’ll have figured out how to keep both inside and her absolutely safe. One option is a high-hanging cage.

Although Max gets to spend lots of time outside, I’m against it, for there are many dangers, like cars, coyotes, owls, and other overhead predators. Many years ago, I participated with a cat rescue organization and had “never outside!”) drummed into me. With this lucky guy, so far, so good.

Despite the worries and inconveniences of having Max around, I admire and enjoy him. At 12 years of age, he’s close to entering “kitty old age”, and hopefully, will stay healthy, vigorous, and close to me for many more years.

Dear Friends, to top it off, a purring kitty can lower a human’s blood pressure. Diana

Friday, June 21, 2019

Several years ago, Rosie came to live with me. She was an experienced driving horse that hadn’t been driven in years. Between her early life of driving and her arrival at my place, she’d been ridden as a trail horse. Her little sister, Sunni, already lived with me. My friend Elaine had owned Rosie, and sent along Rosie’s old driving cart on long-term loan.

I wanted to learn to drive and had joined a local driving club. Participating in the group put me in touch with folks who could help when I began searching for a capable driving trainer. They pointed me to Megan (in Lebanon, Oregon) who became our trainer.

I left Rosie with Megan and returned weeks later, barely recognizing my horse. She had transitioned, from looking soft and slightly overweight, to looking lean, strong, and almost like a racehorse. Rosie loved her job, was high-stepping, pretty-moving, and lovely to watch. I learned the basics of driving her, but while holding the reins felt very green, for Rosie wasn’t reassuring. In harness she’s ready to go and a lot of horse.

Long story short, after bringing Rosie home and feeling inadequate to drive her, I put the effort on pause. I also got sidetracked by being diagnosed with breast cancer, and so, didn’t do much with horses for several years. As my medical issues became resolved, I thought again about playing with my horses.

Lacking enough experience to drive Rosie successfully, and luckily having another horse to work with, I sent Sunni to Megan. In several months, she had my kind and steady pony driving willingly and easily. I re-learned how to drive, and after coming home drove Sunni on neighborhood streets. She stayed in great physical condition and gave me driving experience.

Now, Rosie and I have begun teaming again. While threading through old pictures, I found today’s caption photo. It shows me first learning to drive Rosie and captures her beautiful movement. She’s still a very energetic horse, but thanks to Megan and Sunni, I’m prepared to drive Rosie and return her to the work she loves.

Dear Readers: It’s the first leg of a journey, and no telling where it’ll take us. Diana