On Vultures

I've posted before about the enormous turkey and black vulture populations here in Radford. Radford has one of the largest turkey vulture and black vulture populations in the country (there's a 1000+ bird roost out at the local army ammunitions plant, plus a gazillion more birds in the city). Every year for the past several, Radford has been having this "Vulture Day" to educate people about the birds. We missed it last year, but finally, we all went to this year's activities and it was great fun!

There were crafts for Z., which she loves, but the best part was that we got to meet a turkey vulture in person. "Buttercup" was hit by a car and can't ever be released again into the wild, so her caretaker, Bob (an RU faculty member in Biology who we have known for a while), takes her around for educational purposes. Vultures are definitely demonized by the local folks here. During our visit, J. got to hold her, and Little Miss Z. - She Who is Currently Afraid of EVERYTHING - was really thrilled to see her and even petted her feet several times. That's definitely *progress* on her part.

Cooler still was there was a man there taking photos who we got to talking to; he snapped these photos of J. & Z. with Buttercup. He's apparently editor of a local nature newspaper/journal The Appalachian Voice. He wants to use one of the photos for the back cover of the next issue. And, in talking with him, he was really interested in me and my work, and suggested that I might find some writing opportunities with the journal. Being such a natural introvert, I rarely make these sorts of connections, so I am excited for the possibilities.

No Cease-Fire Agreement Yet Reached

Ah, so if you thought perhaps that our ongoing WAR with the brown marmorated stinkbugs down here in Radford had finally come to a close, you'd be very, very wrong. According to Google, they're supposed to have 3-weeks to a month of activity, once they hatch. So with that calendar in mind, we should have been done with these beasts sometime in mid-October. And yet, here we are, months later, and we are still finding those damn things in the house (we didn't even open a single window most of that time, a fact which pains me greatly, as I crave fresh air). We're not finding many, but they just still Won't. Go. Away. Not even with all this cold (cold even for the South, like 20 degrees at night lately). I found one under the baby's crib the other day, hiding among her extra linens. I can only imagine how many of those things are hibernating - because they don't actually die in the winter - in our attic. Argh.

Nesting Dreams

After the ill-fated and much-failed hummingbird experiment back in Pittsburgh, I haven't really felt compelled to do much in the way of bird feeding since. Part of it has to do with my ongoing *bird issues* and part of it is that, while I love and admire all animals, birds just don't really do it for me. But I guess I have never before lived in a place with such an amazing and incredible diversity of birds as there are here. And The Toddler is turning out to be really into birds. So we went and got ourselves a bird feeder - supposedly "squirrel resistant" - and hung it from the maple tree in front yard. We're not getting too much action yet out there, as it seems more different types of birds hang out in the back yard (we'll get a feeder out there next, I think). But I'm sitting there on the couch diligently with my Audubon Field Guide to Birds Northeastern Edition, learning how to become a novice bird-watcher. So far, though, I'm not improving much in my birding skills. Maybe it's my poor eyesight. Or maybe it's because those things are so twitchy and fast and unpredictable (the source of my "issues" in the first place!), I just can't ever seem to get a good, close-enough look. But I'm trying. We're all trying. Z. seems to think that it's "her" bird book and whenever I take it out, she has to steal it from me and look at the pictures.

Thus far, we have identified:

• rufous-sided towhee;
• Carolina chickdee;
• tufted titmouse;
• jay;
• cardinal;
• common grackle

And of course at other places in town we've seen the vultures, both turkey and black. But more on that soon. Radford's annual "Vulture Day" is fast approaching and this year, we're definitely going!

Remembering the Exact Color and Design

In a former life - the one without Very Small People - I used to look forward to the start of Daylight Saving Time, in spite of the fact that it meant I couldn't deny the approach of winter any longer (much as I would like to). It inevitably fell on the same night as our annual Hallowe'en Extravaganza, so we gained both an hour of extra partying and an hour of extra sleep. These days, especially with little V., there's no such thing as an extra hour of sleep, ever. Naturally this year, both girls' schedules were all out of whack and both woke up extra, extra early the day the clocks were turned back. Rather than wallow in my sleep-deprived-misery, I decided to seize the moment. As I looked out the dining room sliding door windows to the mountain ridge in the distance, I could tell that it was going to be an absolutely glorious sunrise that morning. Hearing through the baby monitor that Z. was already awake, I ran to her room and excitedly said, "Come quick! I want to show you something COOL!" That sort of promise, even if it's made over something we adults would find small or silly, always motivates her in surprising ways. So we both went dashing downstairs to the dining room and I pointed out at the sunrise, which was just as spectacular as I thought it was going to be. The skies were the most intense shade of crimson-red, light shining through filmy clouds over the tops of trees just coming into their most colorful autumn hues. We stood there together at the glass, just watching and admiring. Z. even stood still for longer than usual.

Even a week later, she is still talking about that sunrise. I feel blessed not just to have shared it with her, but that she has the capacity to appreciate such small, beautiful moments in this world.

White Stripes, Moonstruck Eyes, Red Fire

Three a.m. the other night, I come out of the bedroom and into the hallway - the baby's up, again - and my nostrils are met with the most pungent, stinging smell. My eyes begin watering, my nose, burning. It has an unfamiliar odor, chemical almost, like nothing I have in my memory with which to compare it. I bolt down the stairs to the living room, where J. has fallen asleep, again and wake him, demanding to know: What the hell is that smell??

I learn that an hour ago while taking Pepper the Collie outside before bed, she dashed off into the yard after something. Not unusual at all; Pepper has a very high prey drive, and will take off after Every. Single. Moving. Thing if we let her. She came back when J. called, sneezing and snuffling and coughing. J says that he thought she might have met up with a skunk, but after smelling her closely, didn't smell anything and let her back into the house, closing her in the office.

Turns out that I guess there's a delayed reaction in skunk oil. It also doesn't get that characteristic *skunk* scent until much, much later. Now, as the smell has permeated the entire house to the point of making us all gag, it's clear that yes, Pepper got into a fight with a skunk. And lost. Miserably. She got sprayed directly in the face and chest, at close range. And we've spent all of yesterday giving her half a dozen baths - forget the old myth of tomato juice, vinegar/baking soda/peroxide is supposedly where it's at - and will probably give her many more before this is all over. She is smelling much better, but, unfortunately, I cannot say the same for our house. Frankly, given that this place has such a huge skunk population, I can't believe this hasn't happened sooner!

POSTSCRIPT:
Unbelievably, it took about three full weeks before our house even began to smell not entirely like a skunk. Three weeks before Z. didn't walk through the office and declare daily, "It STINKS in here!" And Pepper, well, let's just say that one doesn't want to go burying one's nose in her mane, still. Yuck. I am amazed at what a clever, and powerful defense mechanism this is. Amazed that such a small, seemingly insignificant creature could yield such overpowering results, results that linger on and on.

I read that dogs who tussle with skunks are usually of two types:

1. The clever dog who gets sprayed once, learns a valuable lesson, and never goes near a skunk again;
2. The not-so-clever dog who, for whatever reason, just never learns and keeps going after them, again and again.

Pepper is a very clever dog, indeed. But I suspect she's of a third type: The dog who KNOWS better, but who just can't help herself and will gladly take on the opponent, should the opportunity arise. Needless to say, she will NOT be going in the yard in the dark unleashed ever, ever again.

An Inventory of Terrible Things

Pardon the long absence. I've been a bit too preoccupied with the arrival and caretaking of Someone Very Small. But I feel perhaps like I am ready to begin getting back into the Natural World of the Living...

I always knew that The South was *buggy*, but wow. Just wow. In our year here so far, we've had infestations - in our two HOMES - of (sparing you all the incredibly icky photos!):

• camelback crickets;
• scary huge black horseflies;
• scary huge black, flying (and biting) ants;
• and now: brown marmorated stink bugs (native to China and only here in the US for the last 10 years or so)

Usually I'm not an enemy of bugs, but this is just Out. Of. Control. Especially since at the moment, the greatest congregation of the stink bugs is in The Baby's bedroom. They're not harmful, but YUCK. J., ever-the-Buddhist, said that he initially was apologizing with the killing of each one, but now, he just wants them gone.

Not to mention, our backyard area is literally an entire invasive species jungle. Seriously. most are non-native, just like the stink bugs. The current count:

• ailanthus trees (aka "tree of heaven" - there are, MILLIONS in our yard, an actual forest);
• black locust trees;
• japanese honeysuckle;
• english ivy;
• pokeweed;
• crown vetch;
• garlic mustard

These are just the ones that I recognize, and I admittedly suck at plant identification. I am quite certain there are plenty, plenty more. If we were to buy this house, I think we'd have no choice but to resort to chemicals and try to start over.

ETA: OMG. This stink bug thing is truly of biblical proportions. J. just spent over an hour ridding Z.'s room of them. If locusts or frogs are next, I'm leaving town, I swear!!

A Proper Naturalist I Am Not

So, I've admitted that I'm pretty good with identifying and knowing more than *normal* people should about a wide range of animals (don't get me started on my dull, but exhaustive knowledge of freshwater mussels...), save birds, since I have peculiar bird issues and they kind of creep me out (I'm working to overcome the creepy factor, slowly). But I also have to admit that I am really, painfully ignorant about trees and plants. I guess we all have elements of the natural/non-human world that we are more drawn to than others. And plants and trees just typically don't capture my interest all that much. Well, if I happen to learn about them I find this knowledge interesting, and useful, but I don't go outdoors with a guidebook in hand trying to figure out what things are.

So I have decided that to better appreciate where I am living, I should learn a whole lot more about this landscape. Today I started with identifying the beautiful pink trees that have exploded in bloom ALL OVER the place in the last week or so. Not a hard task: they're Cercis canadensis, the very common Eastern Redbud tree . I do like knowing the names of things.

It occurs to me, and maybe this is something L. should comment on, that my own interest in the natural world is often prompted simply by aesthetics, by my own perceptions of beauty, particularly when it comes to plants and trees. Things which I find attractive compel me to learn more, to uncover a meaning, name and significance.

Hidden Among Small Milestones

Am very much looking forward to going out in public this week to attend this campus author lecture: "A Natural Sense of Wonder- Connecting Kids with Nature Through the Seasons" . I had been wanting to meet this guy ever since I read on the English Dept. website that he had this book in progress. J. is actually the one who heard about it and suggested we both go. Right after that I will attend the anthropology lecture, "Comparative Settlement Pattern Research on Early Chiefdom Communities in Eastern Inner Mongolia, the Northern Andes, and Mesoamerica," because it's being given by a friend and former fellow grad student of J.'s back in Pittsburgh.

Am even more looking forward to the impending spring here in Appalachia. All the cherry trees are blooming and this entire town is swathed in an explosion of yellow forsythia blossoms. Purty!

What Next??

Haha! Today I discovered that there's apparently a whole lot of mice living in one of our bottom kitchen cupboards, the one right above the cellar-dirt-cave-thingy. At least now I have an explanation as to why, for the last month, I have found The Pest sitting in the kitchen staring at the space right below the dishwasher. She does this constantly. This is the third house we've lived in that had a mouse problem, so I'm not freaked out in the sense that I've not been through this before. I just really don't feel like dealing with it. I actually burst out laughing when I found the remnants this morning - is there NOTHING about this current house that doesn't suck? :-)