"Birds of a feather...." Part 2.

     Avian rats?  Why do we mortals favor some critters over others?  Perhaps some wondered, when I said in reference to the squirrels that came to eat the corn I placed for birds, "squirrels have to eat, too."  Dog food certainly is popular with birds. So why did I find myself rapping on the window to frighten away the starlings that had come to feed? Starlings have to eat, too.

     It surprised me that the blue jays were intimidated by the starlings. I expected the saucy jays to be dominant. When I rapped on the window, three jays that had been driven off the ground into the tree, descended to feed where the starlings had just departed. 

    Cardinals with their bright colors delight the eye which probably attests to their popularity. Blue jays, too, are brightly colored. But my animus toward starlings, how to understand? They're imported but so are pheasants.   So I googled "Starling" and this is what I found.

"None other than the European starling, Sturnus vulgaris.

European starling, S. vulgaris

Surprising? Why is a European songbird one of the most common birds in the northeastern USA? It goes back to one man’s love of Shakespeare, and that old institution of biological imperialism: the American Acclimatization Society.

First established in 1871, the American Acclimatization Society sought to introduce European flora and fauna to the American continent. Of course, acclimatization societies were not unique to the United States. In fact, many of the former English colonies had them (Australia having the most prominent examples in my mind, along with Canada and New Zealand.) In each case, English settlers of these Neo-Englands wanted to recreate the aesthetic and recreational pastimes of their British origins–by introducing familiar plants and animals. After all, how could the former Englishmen go fox-hunting in places like Australia without proper foxes?

Of course, the American Acclimatization Society had more pressing ideas on its mind. Great literature, for instance. In 1877, Eugene Schieffelin, a wealthy drug manufacturer, became chair of the society. In a romantic, if completely absurd, effort, Mr. Schieffelin tried to introduce to the USA every bird species ever mentioned in Shakespeare’s collected works. And unfortunately for the local flora and fauna–the Bard mentions the  starling once (just once in all of his writings!) in Henry IV, Act I:

Nay, I will; that’s flat:
He said he would not ransom Mortimer;
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I’ll holla ‘Mortimer!’
Nay,
I’ll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but ‘Mortimer,’ and give it him
To keep his anger still in motion.

So in 1890, in the middle of Central Park, Eugene Schieffelin loosed 60 imported starlings into New York City. The next year, he introduced over 40 more. Just 20 years later, the birds were well-established along the east coast. By 1942, they could be found across the entire continent. Now, the starling is one of the most common birds in the U.S.–and all the starlings in the country are descendants of those first few introduced birds. I should note though, that there’s no way Schieffelin could have understood the scope of what his society was doing. The word ‘ecology’ was coined only two decades before the release of the starlings–and the field was nowhere near what it is today. (It’s probably only through the examples of the starling, and perhaps, the cane toad, that humans figured out studying ecology might be of some value).

According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the starling both competes with native species, and destroys crops. Nominated to the list of the Top 100 “World’s Worst Invasive Species”, it’s estimated that starlings do over $800 million of agricultural damage each year. Much of this damage is due to the bird’s voracious appetite for cattle feed and our own food crops. They spread disease among livestock, as well.

Starlings in action--probably eating things?

In addition to eating everything in sight, starlings’ roosting habits also cause problems. By living in groups of up to 10,000 or more individuals–and often living near airports–starlings are responsible for about 6% of bird-aircraft strikes, and pose a serious problem for airport maintenance.

To be honest, I’m surprised starlings haven’t done more damage to indigenous bird species populations. Though they do compete with native cavity-nesting birds, at least one study says the starlings haven’t had too much of an impact on the native birds…. (I’m not sure I believe that, though.)

Undoubtedly the USDA and a horde of angry farmers will keep calculating the damage done by these birds–probably not in my hometown, anyway. And they all have the American Acclimatization Society, Mr. Schieffelin, and William Shakespeare to thank."

Perhaps I'll continue to rap on the kitchen window.

Takk for alt,

Al

           A place in Bangkok where I've had a haircut. 😀

"Birds of a feather..."

     Trygve has recovered well enough so we can resume walking. Walking the road we were accompanied by a flock of snow buntings. As we would approach they would fly up and settle on the shoulder of the road a bit father ahead, repeating this process as we advanced. These tough little songbirds migrate here for the winter, apparently not knowing or caring that if they continued farther south they could escape the snow and cold. It's fascinating that this is their destination for winter. Audubon has this to say about them.

     " Cold and dark winter days come alive with the flurry of black-and-white Snow Buntings tumbling in flight across barren fields and lakeshores. These restless birds flock up by the hundreds in winter, scattering across Canada and the United States. Snow Buntings breed in the high Arctic among rocky crevices where their crisp white plumage blends in with the snowy landscape. In the winter they acquire rusty tones that help them blend in with their winter homes of bare ground and crop stubble."

    We also spotted a flock of pheasants, feeding in a tilled soybean field, they scuttled for the cover of a cattail slough when they spotted us. Tomorrow's the last day of pheasant season so they likely will avoid a hunter this time.

    There's a large spruce tree just outside my kitchen window. Under its canopy is where I toss the ear corn for birds and squirrels. When I returned from our walk there was a blue jay feasting on the corn, a cardinal nearby and a flock of juncos on the ground. It's the first cardinal I've seen in Sinai. Lacking birdseed, other than the ear corn, I spread some dog food under the tree as an experiment. The blue jay and the cardinal quickly picked some up and flew away.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                I saw this machine when I was walking this morning. What is it?

Were Dante alive today.....

 A Visitor's Guide to Dante's Nine Circles of Hell

• First Circle: Limbo. The first circle is home to the unbaptized and virtuous pagans. ...
• Second Circle: Lust. ...
• Third Circle: Gluttony. ...
• Fourth Circle: Greed. ...
• Fifth Circle: Anger. ...
• Sixth Circle: Heresy. ...
• Seventh Circle: Violence. ...
• Eighth Circle: Fraud.
• Ninth Circle: (ala Al)  Cyber space circle

     Is there anyone out there who'd disagree with my addition of the Ninth Circle O Hell? In an attempt to recoup some warranty costs related to my Hyundai I called the 800 number provided. The intitial call went well and it concluded with instructions to submit the claim via their website. That's when I should have headed for an exit. They asked for 4 documents to be uploaded. Two were accepted and two were rejected because they exceed the data limit. Two hours of trying various ways to submit including another phone call...all without success. If the sum were not so substantial I'd just write it off......

      That's my whine for the day and I'm sticking with it.

      

      Trygve's showing some improvement but he's not back to his old self yet.

Takk for alt,

Al

            Sunset over the Chao Phraya River, Bangkok.

Poor Boy!

       Trygve, the wonder dog, and I have been hunting most days since the pheasant  season opened on October 17. He's 11.5 now so, comparatively speaking, we're about the same age. He's a good eater, never fussy and always ready the for the next meal or a snack. Before bed he gets a snack to accompany a dose of fish oil. Last night sniffed of the snack and walked away, a certain sign that he isn't well. A call to the vet when they opened this morning got an invitation to bring him in a soon as I could; the clinic is in Brookings, fifteen miles away. His temperature was normal but the vet saw clues that something was wrong so did a blood test. The diagnosis: a UTI with elevated blood sugar. The elevated blood sugar may have provoked the UTI by given bacteria something on which to feed. Trygve came home with antibiotics, low sugar dog food  and is resting comfortably.  While he is very lethargic he's not shown symptoms of distress.

      Hunting season ends Sunday and I'd planned one final hunt before that. That hunt will not happen, of course. Leaving town via the west exit to go to Brookings to the vet, I saw two rooster pheasants a block west of town on the shoulder of the road. They find both grit and corn kernels there. Returning to town by the east entrance I spotted three pheasants, two roosters and a hen, in a field close to town. It's both gratifying and amusing to see them so near. The little pond across the road from The Little House has a good stand of cattails on the far edge and I suspect there are pheasants living in them. Perhaps Trygve and I will walk that way someday to explore. 

Takk for alt,

Al

                                                                        Relaxed!

                                                           Ready for what's next.

    

Writing into a void.

       I'm hankering for the comments that used to appear when I was blogging on Caring Bridge. Daily I send a missive into the void and occasionally there will be a comment but nothing regularly. I'd be happy if this were more of a dialog, persons agreeing, disagreeing and responding to my thoughts.

     The bag of ear corn I picked earlier sits by my front door. The ears, thrown into my yard for the blue jays and mourning doves that are over wintering, is often claimed by fox squirrels. Squirrels need to eat, too, so they are welcome to the corn. This is the season that challenges wildlife so I do a little be for them. The doves seem a bit mystified by ear corn but not neither the jays nor the squirrels. There doesn't appear to be any crows roosting in town. No cottontails have been spotted recently but they have left tracks in the snow. It's been a couple of years since I last saw a jackrabbit but when I did it was on edge of the South Dakota State University campus. That was very appropriate placement because SDak State's mascot is the jackrabbit.

Takk for alt,

Al

                 The white temple outside of Chaing Rai, Thailand.

 

      

It was a long time ago!

       That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it, because it was a long time ago! When did I decide that our role in the war in Vietnam was a mistake?  It was fairly early. Entering seminary 1964, I recall vigorously disagreeing with a classmate who advocated sending more American troops. "That's easy for you to say from the security of your divinity deferment" I said. "If you feel so strongly enlist." Having been discharged from the Marines two years previous it was clear to me who would pay the price of increased deployment.  Quite early in the escalation I became convinced that we were intervening in a civil war. The war has been an interest of mine and partial explanation for my travels to SE Asia, and also why teaching in Hmong school is so attractive. 

        It was a long time ago, it is true. Having just finished Doris Kearns Goodwin's biography of Lyndon Johnson, for which she received a Pulitzer, I'm humbled both by what I didn't know and what I've forgotten. Johnson, fixed on the notion that stopping communism in SE Asia was preventing World War III, became obsessed persevering. Kearns, who once worked as an aide to Johnson, had extraordinary access for this biography. Yes, so much of what she writes I either didn't know or have forgotten. 

      It's a good book, packed with information and, while not scintillating, it is certainly informative. 

Takk for alt,

Al

                         Five Hmong and one African student(s).         

Fact's and opinions.

        For the past several years when I wasn't teaching in Thailand I was teaching at Hmong, Noble Academy. Most of my time was devoted to reading with groups of students. Before my time evolved into reading I assisted in classrooms of 5th and 6th graders. The teachers with whom I worked did an excellent job of teaching the difference between fact and opinion. The students seemed to grasp that significant difference. Patrick Moynihan famously said ,"Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts."  '"Alternative facts" was a phrase used by U.S. Counselor to the President Kellyanne Conway during a Meet the Press interview on January 22, 2017, in which she defended White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer's false statement about the attendance numbers of Donald Trump's inauguration as President of the United States." (Wikipedia) The Washington Post claims that trump made 30,573 false or misleading claims while in office. 

       All this came to mind when I read L.K. Hanson's weekly post in The Minneapolis StarTrbune today.

   

  

     As the old saying goes "If the shoe fits put it on."

Takk for alt,

Al

This is really random but too beautiful not to share. PL took this sunrise picture from his deck in Olympia, WA., looking across Puget Sound with Mt. Rainer in the distance. 

"Three hours?" I wondered.

      ISAIAH Organization sponsored a three hour webinar this afternoon.  What is ISAIAH?  "We are a multi-racial, state-wide, nonpartisan coalition of faith communities fighting for racial and economic justice in Minnesota."  (from their web site)  With my abbreviated attention span I was skeptical of staying engaged for that long. But it worked! There were testimonials from a variety of leaders in various facets of ISAIAH, Executive Director, Doran Schranz spoke, effectively I may add, and then there were responses from elected leaders to questions ISAIAH had submitted.  These leaders included Governor Tim Walz, MN House Leader Mellissa Hortman, 3 Minneapolis City Council members and the mayors of St. Paul, Rochester and St. cloud. 

      It was inspiring, educational and engaging. 3000 people were in attendance and there was opportunity for commitment. As the first president of ISAIAH, I'm deeply gratified to see how far is has come. Vivid memories come of all the meetings and effort to organize confronted by deep skepticism. Many persons understand community organizing but ISAIAH began as faith based organizing, beginning with religious groups. Much of ISAIAH's strength today comes from the Muslim community and includes other groups that are not religion based. Credit for ISAIAH should be give to the Roman Catholic Diocese of St. Paul. The Diocese funded the organizers who did the original organizing that led to ISAIAH.

  Yes, three hours well spent!

Takk for alt,

Al

                                            The pond across the street today.

There's snow place like home.

       Light snow has been falling for 8 hours. The weather app on my phone predicts a few more hours of it. Sitting at my dining room table, as I look out the east windows of The Little House, snow drifts gently north carried on a breeze from the south. It reminds me of my privilege in neither needing to work outside nor travel.  Google found this "Koselig is a concept which is deeply rooted in our Norwegian culture. I would describe it as the feeling of coziness and being comfortable, but it often involves being in a social setting with others rather than being alone. It is about being content and creating a pleasant environment. It is about intimacy and warmth."   Trygve and I are koselig having each other for company, though he doesn't say much, making this monosyllabic introvert seem talkative. 

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost 

Whose woods these are I think I know.   
His house is in the village though;   
He will not see me stopping here   
To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   
To stop without a farmhouse near   
Between the woods and frozen lake   
The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   
To ask if there is some mistake.   
The only other sound’s the sweep   
Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

   Too bad Frost didn't spend time on the prairie so we could have prairie poetry from him.

Takk for alt,

Al

                      Teachers lunch.

Fork in the road.

         High school did not prepare me very well for college. That lack of preparation coupled with my lack of maturity combined for two unsuccessful years of beginning college. This left me initially  feeling like a failure. Recognizing that I wasn't ready I enlisted in the Marines for three years. When I was discharged I returned to college with direction and purpose. Had my intitial attempt at college been a success I wouldn't have enlisted. Had I not enlisted I would not have been in college where Joanne was working and very likely we'd never have met. Perhaps I should write an ode to early failure, 😁 This all came to mind when I read the poem, below. 

Red fox

by Sarah Rossiter

December 30, 2020

If, at the breakfast table,
I had not looked up just
as the red fox, burnished
coat glinting, trotted past,
white-tipped tail carried
like a flag, I would have
missed him. I would have
missed him if I’d slept late,
sneezed, or even blinked
which makes me think how
much I’ve missed because
of chance—if chance is what
it is—the life I might have
lived if I’d turned left instead
of right, responded no instead
of yes, walked through one
door, not the other. I’m not
complaining: I wouldn’t have
it otherwise given all I would
have missed; this life, this love,
this fox outside the window,

Takk for alt,

Al

                     Lunch time!

A poet speaks!

 

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade
We've braved the belly of the beast
We've learned that quiet isn't always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn’t always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we've weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken
but simply unfinished
We the successors of a country and a time
Where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one
And yes we are far from polished
far from pristine
but that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect
We are striving to forge a union with purpose
To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us
but what stands before us
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another
We seek harm to none and harmony for all
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true:
That even as we grieved, we grew
That even as we hurt, we hoped
That even as we tired, we tried
That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious
Not because we will never again know defeat
but because we will never again sow division
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
And no one shall make them afraid
If we’re to live up to our own time
Then victory won’t lie in the blade
But in all the bridges we’ve made
That is the promised glade
The hill we climb
If only we dare
It's because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy
And this effort very nearly succeeded
But while democracy can be periodically delayed
it can never be permanently defeated
In this truth
in this faith we trust
For while we have our eyes on the future
history has its eyes on us
This is the era of just redemption
We feared at its inception
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was
but move to what shall be
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation
Our blunders become their burdens
But one thing is certain:
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy
and change our children’s birthright
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,
we will rise from the windswept northeast
where our forefathers first realized revolution
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,
we will rise from the sunbaked south
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover
and every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid
The new dawn blooms as we free it
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Amanda Gorman at Biden/Harris inauguration.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                             Shining faces!

The Biden/Harris administration is sworn in today.

      With a new administration comes hope. What do I hope for? For starters, honesty. The last president is alleged to have told 30,000 lies. I hope Biden and Harris will speak the truth. Decency; I hope that this administration will be beacons of decency. With a change of tone in The White House, I hope bullying in society will decrease. Is it too much to hope that asylum seekers and refugees will be treated with compassion and kindness?  I hope that racial minorities will be accorded full inclusion in all facets of society. I hope that the United States will be an effective force in addressing climate change. With the ever expanding dichotomy in personal wealth in America I hope the government becomes a force for equalization. Human rights are under attack around the world and I hope America does what it can to bolster those rights. Relationships with our national allies have been damaged and I hope those connections are repaired. Too often policing has been unhelpful, I hope that the positive aspects of policing are enhanced and the irresponsible officers removed.  I hope that a new day of mutual respect will overcome some of the divisiveness in society. I hope there will renewed commitment of institutional respect for the laws of the land.

     That's a lot to hope for and obviously Biden/Harris can't do it all. I do hope that they set the tone and that millions of Americans join in creating a new day of positive endeavor.  What are your hopes?

Takk for alt,

Al

                  Young students line up as the school day begins.

The wind blows...

        "The wind blows to the south, and goes around to the north; round and round goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns."  Ecclesiastes 1:6 RSV.

      One might think that the author of Ecclesiastes lived in South Dakota with his description of the wind. After brekfast this morning, as I was reading the papers, I became aware that I could hear wind in the trees. Checking the weather app on my phone I discovered that indeed there was wind, NW 30mph. This caused a change of plans that flummoxed Trygve. When I'm dressing Trygve sniffs of my clothes so he knows what is being planned. Upon arising this morning I donned my hunting clothes so Trygve assumed we were going hunting. When I discovered the strength of the wind I abandoned plans to hunt and changed out of hunting clothes. Trygve didn't know what to make of the switch. Two days in a row of no hunting and he's a bit impatient. "Tomorrow," I tell him, but what's tomorrow to a dog?

      Such in life in The Little House.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                              School opening.

Adulthood!

       It's not easy being fully adult. There is that in us that would like to shift responsibility to another. In the field of family systems one form of that escape from responsibility is to fuse with another. In this fusion the ultimate responsibility for one's actions gets handed to another. Being an adult is lonely becasue an individual alone must take responsibility for his/her decisions. One must stand alone. 

     Rudyard Kipling's poem is familiar to me from my childhood. Written before sensitivity about gender issues he writes "man" in a place I'd substitute "adult" and "son" I'd say "child.". With that caveat I think his poem does convey significant wisdom.

   

IF
by Rudyard Kipling

"If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
 
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
 
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
 
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son."

    I'd re-write the last sentence "And—which is more—you’ll be an adult my child."  Here's too our adulthood!

Takk for alt,

Al

             Lined up in Chiang Rai waiting for the princess to pass.