For Those Who Didn’t Come Home

I’m one of the lucky ones. Mine came home, my husband, my two sons, my grandson. The U.S. Air Force, Army and Navy all sent my men home. Thank you.

On Monday, the U.S.A. remembers those who didn’t come home. From the Civil War over 150 years ago, to the war on terrorism and just a few months ago, we have given our best and bravest to secure our freedoms.

The day to honor their sacrifice is Memorial Day on Monday. 

Yes, this three-day weekend kicks off the summer season, with vacations, family gatherings, and all sorts of summer activities.

I wrestle with words to honor them, and decide mine are insufficient.

Gen. Ellen Pawlikowski of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio, offered the following this week:

“As we spend time with friends and family, let us be reminded of the most important meaning of this day.

“Established in 1868, Memorial Day was a day set aside to honor those lost in the Civil War. But many wars have gripped our nation since and many lives have been lost. I ask that you pause to honor the fallen Americans who served and died for their country. These brave men and women made the selfless choice to put service before self to protect our freedoms.

“History is full of stories of service members who displayed exceptional valor. From World War I to today's engagement against terrorism, men and women have served with courage and honor. But many did not return to their homes and families. More than a million American Soldiers, Sailors, Coast Guardsmen, Marines and Airmen made the ultimate sacrifice defending our country.

“We can never repay these courageous patriots who gave so much to protect our way of life, but we can use Memorial Day to honor them. And let us not forget to remember the families of the fallen -- spouses, sons, daughters, mothers and fathers. They too have sacrificed.

“Our fallen warriors deserve our deepest gratitude and remembrance. Their sacrifices must never be forgotten.”

Their sacrifices and they must never be forgotten.

Please, take a few moments on Monday and remember you are free, and how you remain that way. If you are able, perhaps take an hour or two to attend a Memorial Day service. The service at Sallisaw Cemetery is at 11 a.m. Monday. Then take a few minutes to walk among the headstones. The markers for those killed in conflict are often simple, old and easy to see. Stop by and say “Thank you.”

We’re sure you will be heard.

Drama in the Back Yard

It was murder by sharp beak in the back yard.

Yep. Your local amateur backyard wildlife observer is at it again. That means Sally’s sitting on the back porch with a cup of coffee watching wildlife.

The episode reminded me of a game of Clue. The alert that something was up was the loud squawking of numerous birds. Having learned that lots of squawking means something’s afoot (to quote Sherlock Holmes – Hey, I love a good mystery), I gazed into the distance, searching for the source of the noise. It soon appeared. It wasn’t a-foot. It was a-wing!

Out of the sky dived a large black crow, followed closely by a gang of other birds. And they were all squawking loudly. The reason was that crow held a struggling bird in its beak. Crow landed in the middle of the yard, but it wasn’t safe.

The following gang was composed of very angry birds, robins and purple martins. The robins landed in a circle around the crow and attempted a lackluster advance upon the killer crow, but it was too big and intimidating for them. They just had to stand and watch. The martins tried a few dive bombs, and actually struck twice. But that crow was a tough old bird. It just bobbed and ducked, killed that captured bird, and ate it.

I even thought of a frontal attack myself, but knew that old crow would just fly off with its dinner. I was much too late. Such is the circle of life, it may be said.

On the other hand, a couple weeks ago we heard another loud chorus of bird tweets. Darling Daughter and I were once again on the back porch. “What is that noise?” we wondered aloud.

Into my small city of bird feeders flew a whole flock of Carolina chickadees. The chickadees hang out at my bird feeders a lot, but only one by one. Never by the flock. And this was a flock. A loud flock.

An hour of observation by us revealed Mom and Dad Chickadee had brought their four newly-fledged babes to my feeders to learn how to eat on their own. We must report that, although baby chickadees are darling, they don’t seem terribly smart. They would simply stand on a tree limb while poor mom and dad gathered seed from the feeders, then flew the six inches to stuff bird seed in the babes’ mouths. This went on for an hour, and was observed to occur at least two or three times a day.

And after hearing all the chickadee hubbub, I decided these weren’t baby birds. They were teenage birds. They were loud and obnoxious. Sorry teen friends.

It was observed that one of these chickadee children was obese. I mean really chubby. At least twice the size of mom and dad. I named him Obee. Apparently chickadee parents have favorites.

But teen chickadees are learning their lessons. They still fly around together. They even come to the bird feeders to eat on their own. Just this week they were seen all gathered together in one bird feeder, feasting on their own without the help of mom and dad. What a relief it must be to those chickadee parents.

I wonder how long it will take the youngsters to gather the courage to leave their little family nesting group and fly away to start their own families. And will they bring them home to show off to mom and dad, and to teach the lesson of the bird feeders?

And we report that Obee is still the heftiest chick on the block. Hope no lingering crow has noticed.

Such is the circle of life. Who knew that a back yard could be so full of drama, death, and life?

A Great Big Thank You

Just got to give Sutherlands Lumber and Home Improvement in Fort Smith a Great Big Thank You.

Last weekend I jumped on the internet to search out the Sutherlands ad. Since entering semi-retirement I have become obsessed with building a little garden for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Did not realize at that time that such a project was going to be a bit expensive, or a bit more than a little bit expensive. But, as I also love to shop, I had shopped around and found that Sutherlands has a really nice selection of garden plants. Still, a sale on such garden plants would be helpful.

What I found was Sutherlands‘ Facebook page, where they post a contest occasionally. ‘What the heck,” I thought. “What could it hurt?’ I never win anything. Wasn’t too excited.

On Monday, here came an email. “Congratulations,” it said.

‘Congratulations for what?’ I wondered.

Then it hit me. Could I possible have won Sutherlands’ contest for $200 worth of trees and shrubs?

Yep. I did. I was so excited I couldn’t even sleep that night. Now remember, I never win anything. Well, a couple things. When I was a teenager, I won a basket of groceries in a Christmas contest. My family was all excited until we realized those groceries were kind of stale. They’d been sitting out through the whole contest. Stale bread did not excite my mother. About 20 years ago I won a ceiling fan in a 4-H fundraiser. That ceiling fan is still going. Thank you 4-H!

And now I was offered $200 worth of trees and shrubs. Wow! Invited Darling Daughter to help me make my choices and off we raced to Sutherlands.

I calculated all I needed was a couple peach trees and a rose bush or two and I’d be done. Hahahaha! Did I mention Sutherlands’ also has some good prices? After two hours of search and “Just Put It in the Cart” advice from Darling Daughter, I had two peach trees, a couple azaleas, a rose bush, and some bedding plants, had filled up a shopping cart, and I thought I was done.

Darling Daughter advised, “That’s not enough.”

She was right. Only had about $100 worth. Back we went to lawn and garden.

The Sutherlands staff was amazing and as helpful as can be to an indecisive grandma – Me.

OK. I bought nearly all the peach trees Sutherlands had. I left one. I now have azalea bushes in all colors available. Found a gorgeous Carolina jasmine plant. (Killed that last one I had, but I have fallen in love with jasmine. Turns out they are tropical.) And Darling Daughter talked me into a gardenia, which, I admit, scares me, but if it and I can get along, should be spectacular.

As Sutherlands’ closing time neared, and lawn-and-garden employees chuckled at my inability to decide from the many choices that they offer, I just started tossing anything and everything into our carts. Yes. It was more than one cart. I was more than two carts. Darling Daughter and I left Sutherlands with four carts full of lovely, beautiful plants and trees.

I can’t say enough good stuff about Sutherlands. The employees were terrific, super nice, and helpful to the extreme. And they laughed right along with Darling Daughter and me as we struggled to make our selections. I can only explain that I had so much trouble making my decisions because the choices were so many and so rich.

My Grandchildren’s’ Garden is well on the way to completion, thanks to Sutherlands. Thank you, thank you, thank you. (And when does that next contest start?)

Goofs for a Good Laugh

Thank goodness for proof readers.

After almost 40 years in the news business, I am most thankful for proofreaders. However, during those 40 years even the proofreaders missed a few of my goofs. I apologized profusely for those goofs, over, and over, and over. They will not be repeated here.

Still, there is nothing in the news that makes me laugh out loud so much as someone else’s goof. Believing there are a few of you out there who feel the same, the following “unintentional” headline goofs are reviewed. The names of the guilty have been omitted.

-Missippi’s Literacy Program Shows Improvement

-Volunteers Search for Old Civil War Planes

-Correction: The salsa recipe should have read “2 tsp. of cilantro,” not “2 tsp. of cement.”

-Statistics Show Teen Pregnancy Drops off Significantly after Age 25

-Police Reports: 3:56 p.m. – Dispatch reports chicken pot pie running east on Blank Street.

Sometimes, the headline or news error is just because someone was in a great hurry, and didn’t stop to read what was written. For instance, the following may be considered “Duh!” moments.

-Federal Agents Raid Gun Shop, Find Weapons

-City Unsure Why the Sewer Smells

-Mayor Tells the Homeless: Go Home

-Slowdown Continues to Accelerate

-Homicide Victims Rarely Talk to Police

-Lunar Eclipse Will Be Broadcast Live on Radio

-Psychics Predict World Didn’t End Yesterday

-Grass Growing Fast After Rain

-State Prisons to Replace Easy-open Locks

-Crocodiles Go Hungry Due to Shortage of Tourists

-Bugs Flying Around with Wings Are Flying Bugs

-City Council Runs Out of Time to Discuss Shorter Meetings

-Researchers: Overeating Can Set Stage for Obesity

-Army Vehicle Disappears: An Australian Army vehicle worth $74,000 has gone missing after being painted with camouflage.

-Cemetery Residents Making a Comeback

And then there are those headlines that we believe the writer knew exactly what he or she was doing, and was doing it with tongue in cheek!

-Attorney Accidentally Sues Himself

-Man Accused of Killing Lawyer Gets New Attorney

-County to Pay $250,000 to Advertise Lack of Funds

-Meeting on Open Meetings Is Closed

-Fish Need Water, Feds Say

But nothing can be funnier than plain old real life.

-Boy, Age 8, Saves Sister’s Life: He states, “I won’t do it again. She’s been a pain this whole week.”

-Man Kidnaps Ex-girlfriend to Get Ironing Done

-Police Reports: 7:14 p.m. – Caller reported someone was on a porch yelling “help” from a residence. Officers responded and learned the person was calling for a cat named “Help.”

-Police Reports: An elderly motorist, pulled over for speeding, had a vacuum on the dashboard of her car. She told officer her family “told me if I put a Dustbuster in my car that I wouldn’t get a ticket.” Her family had told her she should get a ‘fuzzbuster’ radar detector to warn her of cops.

The ad department is not immune to mistakes or funny takes, as evidenced by the following classified ads.

-Surgeon Wanted for new health clinic. No experience needed. Must have own tools.

-Waitress Needed. Must be 19 years old with 20 years experience.

-For Sale: Soccer ball signed by either Pele, the former Brazilian soccer player widely renowned to be the finest player that ever existed, or by some guy named Peter.

-Cab Drivers Wanted for Nights & weekends. Must have good driving and criminal record. Apply in person.

-FREE: Big box of toys previously owned by a son who sass-talked his mama and is about to learn a life lesson he will never ever ever ever ever ever ever forget.

Hope that satisfies everyone’s need for a Saturday laugh.

Tipsy Squirrels and Videographers

The Huffington Post reported on “Tippy the Fainting Squirrel” this week.

For those in the not-know, The Huffington Post is an on-line newspaper, which must have a thing for squirrels. Found that out when I searched for funny squirrel stuff on line and Huffington Post came up, a lot.

The tipsy squirrel was the latest post. The Post’s video shows a squirrel who apparently has been getting tipsy, on something. Squirrel would nibble on a nut, then fall over. Several readers wondered if the nuts had fermented. We hope the squirrel survived whatever ailed it.

The video reminded me of my own squirrel population, which I have had time to observe lately due to Oklahoma’s fabulous spring that lets me sit on the back porch a lot.

My little 10 acres has two sets of squirrels. The front yard is inhabited by red squirrels who are raucous and belligerent. The back half of the yard is inhabited by one little gray squirrel. Little gray squirrel has a set schedule. She (we decided she’s a she because she’s a little bitty thing) comes out of the horse pasture, scampers across the top of the pasture fence to the feed shed. That’s where she checks for any horse feed that may have been accidentally dropped when Darling Daughter feeds her horses. If no feed is found, she will enter the shed and try to get into the feed itself. When Darling Daughter figured out where her feed was going, she had to buy metal garbage cans with lids to keep critter out.

Feed check done, little gray squirrel climbs to the top of shed, runs back to fence, and sometimes will sit atop gate post just to check things out. Then down she goes to get a drink out of the horse trough. Back up the post, across the shed roof and onto the nearest tree limb is her next step. From the limb it is a short hop to the porch roof.

When I sat on the porch this week I kept wondering what that thump, thump, thump was. It was made clear when little gray squirrel jumped from roof to back yard tree, where the bird feeders are hung. Little gray squirrel was racing across the roof to get to bird feeder tree.

“Aha. I’ve caught you,” I thought, believing I had found the culprit who kept cleaning out my bird feeders on a daily basis. I prepared to give chase.

But no, little gray squirrel just sat down in a tree fork, where apparently rain had accumulated, and took a bath. A big bath. She washed her hands, she washed her face, she combed her whiskers. Then she scratched each of her four armpits, and took many minutes to comb out her tail. Did not know squirrels were so clean.

Then she disappeared behind a limb, and I again prepared to run her away from the bird feeders. But no, again. Little gray squirrel disappeared. Throughout this whole scenario I sat very still, trying not to let little gray squirrel know I was watching. But at this point it dawned on me that I was sitting there with my new phone, which still confounds me, but will take photographs and videos.

I raised phone and gently pushed video button. I wanted evidence of who was eating my bird seed. No squirrel. I panned the area. And there she was. Not on the bird feeder. She had climbed down from the tree, hidden behind the trunk, and moved on to the carport where she was stashing as many maple tree seeds into her mouth as possible. Hum. Gonna’ have to try a seed. Maybe they taste like maple syrup.

Little gray squirrel got her fill, and I got a video. But she does not appear tipsy. I do. That phone is hard to hold, at arm’s length and at an angle. The video dances around like I’m either on the high seas in a small boat, or am a little tipsy myself. I’m not. I promise. I just need practise.

Which I’m sure I’ll get because I’m sure little gray squirrel will be back, and I can video her some more, I hope. If that happens, stay tuned. Little gray squirrel may appear right here, tipsy or not, depending on the videographer, me.

Chicken Gate and Me

As most know, I love to bird watch. It’s one of my semi-retirement pastimes. I have several. In fact I have so many, I may have to cut back. There’s gardening, and movies, and sewing, and crocheting, and grilling (yum), and hanging out with family and friends. I have found there is less time available now than when I worked full time.

Chasing chickens was not on my list of retirement past times or on my bird watching list. Nevertheless, I am now not only watching chickens, I am chasing chickens.

Chicken Gate started when I found my pink bulb garden upended. All those pretty bulbs I planted early this year, and which had sprouted and were producing lovely pink flowers, were found one evening laying on top the garden soil and sadly wilted.

I blamed poor yard dog Reba, who has been known to find a strawberry bed a great place in which to lie when it’s hot outside. So I yelled at Reba. “Sorry Reba,” I apologized. I figured if it wasn’t Reba it was the itinerant armadillo or possum who rooted out my lovely flower bulbs. Sorry armadillo and possum.

It was last week when I finally figured who did what with which in the bulb garden. It was sneaky, thieving chickens, scratching away with those long ugly feet, looking for bugs I guess. They didn’t eat the bulbs. They just dug them up. I chased the flock of chickens off, and they didn’t return for a while. I stuck the bulbs back in the ground, hoping the garden-gate thieves would not return.

But then, lounging away on my back porch one evening this past week I heard that dreaded ‘scratch, scratch, scratch.’ Another chicken was on loose, and in my back yard. But this time it was only one little pullet, all by herself. And she wasn’t in the garden. She was scratching around under a hay pile where I’d last seen a snake. Chickens eat snakes. Hum. That was acceptable. I decided little pullet could stay if she wished. I even through her some bird seed, which she devoured. Hope she was doing the same to the snakes.

Called Darling Daughter and told her we had a chicken, but little chicken wasn’t too keen on being caught and put up in a chicken house. Darling Daughter was delighted. We were all thinking of beautiful, big brown eggs.

Little Chick (yes, she already has a name), wasn’t there the next morning, but she was on the porch searching for left-over bird seed that evening. And Reba didn’t seem to mind. I had thought if foxes and hawks didn’t have a Little Chick for dinner, perhaps Reba would. Nope. Yard dog Reba could care less.

“I expect to come over and find Reba and the chicken curled up together asleep,” Darling Daughter foretold.

Maybe Reba, who is older than me in dog years, just isn’t up to chicken chasing. Me either. Maybe Reba considers herself retired too. I gave Little Chick some more bird feed.

And Little Chick was still with us the next morning. She and a friend, that is. Yep. Two little pullets in my back yard. I’m dreaming of big, brown eggs. Don’t know who these chickens belong to, but as long as they stay out of my flower gardens, I’m claiming them. Had thought of putting up an electric fence around garden, but don’t want to find fried chickens lying about. Or a fried Reba for that matter. And from past experience as a farm girl, I know that gates and fences don’t work well when it comes to chickens. They are chicken gate escape artists.

I told Darling Daughter that I’m too old to take up chicken farming. Grew up on a farm, chasing chickens, and cows, and horses. However, if any more chickens show up, I may become just another farm kid, again, in my retirement years. But this time it will be just one more retirement hobby.

My Back Yard Entertainment

At last – Spring.

No one can fault the absolutely fabulous spring Oklahoma has delighted us with so far. Of course we Okies are always concerned about this early warm weather, but this year’s lovely warmth is so much better than snow and ice that we’ll take it. At least I will.

I take it so well that every evening after work I sit out on the back porch and just enjoy. I’ve raved about Oklahoma’s spring before, and it’s so great I’ve just got to do it again.

And sitting out on the back porch is not boring. It’s like going to the movies, movies with sequels. The dramas are constantly ongoing, especially if anyone, like me, is so into wildlife that bird feeders and feed stations are scattered everywhere in the yard. I should have been a wildlife biologist. The critters just fascinate me.

Take the birds. Or some would say, please take the birds away. No. I’ll keep my own birdies, thanks. Don’t mess with my birds. I might hurt you.

There are so many now, even Darling Daughter, who also likes to watch birds, comments on the noise at my house. My birds are singing their little hearts out this year. I have two sets of cardinals, two sets of woodpeckers, a pair of tufted titmice, too many Carolina chickadees and juncos to count, and a nuthatch who eats upside down and is absolutely adorable.

Then there is the house wren who has moved in, literally. House wren found a hole and has set up housekeeping in the back room. I don’t even let the dog in anymore for fear she will scare the wren so badly that wren abandons the nest built in a box of old clothes.

Then there are the red-winged black birds who have taken over the biggest feeder. They run all the other birds off. I was thinking about running them off, or hoping they would migrate north. Then a huge gray hawk flew in one day and picked out a black bird for lunch, again, literally. That poor blackbird didn’t have a chance to fight back. Now I feel guilty. But the hawk was magnificent, and no longer hungry apparently. I feel guilty I might have set up a smorgasbord for hawks, because several have been sighted.

And then there’s the squirrel who cleans out the bird feeders when I’m not around. I may feel guilty about the hawk eating that blackbird but I don’t feel at all guilty about looking up squirrel stew recipes on the internet.

I feel really guilty about yard dog Reba finding the baby rabbit nest, and eating all those young’uns. But mom is still hopping around the back yard, so we may have more babies, better hidden in the future we hope. And mom is too fast for old Reba to catch.

And those are just the critters who come to visit. My fence row is also home to a dive-bombing mockingbird, one loud-mouthed blue jay family, some bluebirds and a red-headed woodpecker. No signs of any hummingbirds yet, but it may be a little bit too early.

But we want to welcome back that fabulous Oklahoma state bird, the scissortail fly catcher, from wherever it spent the winter. It has returned.

I always think I’m going to sign up for the state or even the national bird count, but I get so busy watching them, I forget to count. Every one of them has a different personality and behavior, and are so much fun to watch. Forget the Backyard Bird Count. Let’s watch the Back Yard Movie.

I love Oklahoma!