Friendly Advice

A drink to avoid on New Year's Eve courtesy of Wikipedia:

The Mickey Slim

The Mickey Slim was a drink with a short-lived popularity in the United States in the 1950s. It was made with gin to which was added a pinch of DDT (also known as dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane) at a time when DDT was still considered to be the safest insecticide ever invented. Users of this concoction claimed that its effects were similar to the banned substance absinthe. In retrospect, this drink is considered dangerous.

A Day in the Office

"Oh, I don't approve of this at all, and would you please stop referring to me as a 'bunny bag'."

Spent another funderful few days in the Madison area with the gang at Eagle Optics. I brought Cinnamon in this morning before I headed back to the Twin Cities and people were lining up to be disapproved of. Dan asked if Cinnamon disapproves of Eagle Optics...Cinnamon disapproves of everything, except maybe broccoli--fortunately there was some in the break room refrigerator so I was able to avoid being fired by her answer.

On a side note, I have to say that Dan has been a pretty good boss so far, but his cool points really went up this week when he presented me with a box clothes to wear to shows and festivals. I'm usually not one for dress codes--it's that inner 15 year old who still refuses to wear anything but black. But these are good sturdy fleeces with the Vortex logo (you can never have too many fleeces when you live in the northern states). I even got some shirts and blouses to wear, that are actually in female sizes and fit-I'm so relieved.

Cinnamon continued her disapproving rampage at the office and had an immediate disapproval prepared for Mike McDowell--apparently there are not enough rabbits in his blog and way too much about digiscoping. Mike had me go through his sparrow quiz, which I didn't do too bad, I missed the last sparrow, but juvenile sparrows are not my forte.

To the right is a photo of Mike between phone calls at his desk with a pair of the new Vortex Razor binoculars. Dan got some samples in to take to Bird Watch America, and of course all of us wanted to play with them and feel what they are like in the hand. We were like little kids sneaking around a fresh box of Twinkies. They feel great in the hand and should be pretty sweet when the final touches are added.

It looks like I'll be heading out again later in January. I need to make sure that I am prepared to answer all types of binocular questions when working the booths at birding festivals. Ben wants me to spend some time answering the phones and getting all sorts of optics questions thrown at me or working with customers who come in to visit Eagle Optics in Middleton. I think I'll do okay, I'm getting better with technical questions, but I get all the prices confused. But I figure if I can keep track of all the different types of Droll Yankee feeders and their prices with or without trays I should be able to learn it for binoculars too. Plus, it's always fun to hang out with the gang, you never know what's going to come up. Mike and Jason got into a conversation over Mike's favorite binoculars under $1000 which led to Jason doing optics comparisons on the counter (left)...at least that what I hope he was doing.

Ivory-Bill Nest Correction

I got a very nice email from Lisa Boyd who owns the Ivory-bill Nest shop:

Thanks for the nice write up on your blog I was caught off guard when I saw it, but it is great.
I have only 1 correction for you the " Got Pecker " shirt does have an ivory bill on the back with the words reading WE DO- Brinkley AR- Bayou De View on the back. I get lots of comments on that shirt but that particular shirt is what inspired the gift shop I absolutely could not keep up with meeting people in town or traveling thru that wanted ibwo shirts.

I didn't flip the shirt over to see that there is in fact an Ivory-billed Woodpecker on the back, my bad. Sorry about that, Lisa. Thanks for setting the record straight. I'm glad lots of people are stopping into her shop and hope that her booming business continues. I ended up giving my "Got Pecker?" to my boss Dan. He wore it during lunch at looked cute.

Boy, we have some exciting stuff in the works at Eagle Optics which I will probably announce next week! Yesterday I got a peak at some new binoculars that we will be introducing this year as well as straighten out some details with Dan and Ben on a very exciting project for this year. I can't believe I get paid to do what I do--it's too much fun!

Bunny Indignity

I'll give you three guesses as to who is in my fancy shmancy ABA bag? I'll give you a hint: as I took the photo there were was some MAJOR disapproval emanating from said ABA bag.

If you guessed Cinnamon, you guessed correctly. It's a very breathable canvass bag and she is not in it for more than three minutes. Plus, I keep the zipper slightly ajar just to be safe.

None of the staff at the hotel who have been charmed by Cinnamon have told me that she can't come, but I feel the need to not draw attention to ourselves when we arrive. She fits just perfectly in there and it works for getting her from the car to the room. I was going to take a photo of her inside the bag, but when I opened it, she hopped out too fast for a photo. She was a little testy to say the least, her face kind looked like it did in the photo below. That's Defcon 4 when it comes to Bunny Disapproval. But some carrots tops and fresh litter in the litter box and all is forgiven for the moment.

We played the Red-tail Game on the way to Madison. It's inspired by a game Non Birding Bill has where you get points for each cow that is on your side of the car. If you pass a cemetery on your side of the car, then you lose all your points. Whoever has the most points at the end of the trip wins. In the Red-tail Game you get a point for every red-tailed hawk you spot on your side of the car, and five points for a bald eagle. If you see a turkey vulture on your side of the car you lose all your points. I had an early eagle crossing over into Wisconsin and felt sure I would win, but alas, all the red-tailed hawks were on Cinnamon's side of the car--perhaps the red-tails could sense something tasty on that side? Being winter, there just aren't too many turkey vultures up here so neither of us lost points. Finally tally: Birdchick 16 points, Cinnamon 18 points.

Cool Addition to Blogging Community

I'm so excited! Here's a quote from an email I received today from Sheri Williamson and Tom Wood:

"Blogging! Time will tell whether this qualifies you as an inspiration or just one of those bad influences our parents warned us about."

I'm hoping I fall under the latter as opposed to the former (as Non Birding Bill always says whenever I try to blame something on my evil twin, "You are your evil twin.") Sheri is one of my favorite authors and an authority on hummingbirds. Tom is a photographer, but even cooler than that is a master bird bander. Both should make for some fun postings so be sure to check out the Bisbee Border Birder Blogger (and if you're really up for an adventure try saying that five times fast...after a few dirty martinis).

On a side note, while looking for pertinent links for Williamson and Wood I discovered that you can sign up for a Hummingbird Course led by these two in 2006 through the ABA's Institute for Field Ornithology. Having met both of these people I can guarantee that the course would not only be informative but FUN (yes, that's right I put it in all caps). These are not your run of the mill birder types--they're my kind of birding crowd. Also, if you take the course, get them to sing, Sheri has a wonderful velvety, throaty voice that's warm and inviting like single malt scotch.

Birdchick's Booty

Cinnamon says, "Oh, I know I disapprove of this gift! No siree bob, I don't like it."

She is referring to the oh so thoughtful gift Non Birding Bill got for me (and this is a great gift idea for anyone who is a birder) a massage unit for my car seat! It vibrates my shoulders, back and thighs. Just perfect for those long trips to a stake out bird or for when I go to Madison. It's really nifty!

Cinnamon is above gifts as are our other two pets, they seem content with an extra helping of vegetables or just the chance to play with ripped up wrapping paper. Cinnamon got some extra broccoli and some carrots with the tops still attached. Even though she had her fill, she took to carrying around the last chewed up piece of carrot, afraid that I might throw it away when she wasn't looking (below). She reminds me of a third rate gangster which a cigar hanging out of her mouth. I keep expecting her to say "Is this that party to whom I am speaking? I disapprove that you have not paid me back the money I am owed and will now have to have Mr. Bigwig break your knee caps." Maybe she's going to an audition for Guys and Dolls.

Once again I have been spoiled rotten for the holidays. Non Birding Bill knows me so well and has given me quite the book collection. In the past few years he has been giving me various Bent books, but now that the set is nearly complete he is focusing on giving me Johnsgard books. Considering he has authored forty to fifty books, that should be quite a project. He meanders through used book stores and a few websites like Buteo Books to find obscure titles. This year I got Ruddy Ducks and Other Stifftails, Those of the Gray Wind: The Sandhill Cranes, and Earth, Water, and Sky. NBB also picked up some other books I was not expecting like Birds of Prey of the World, Ravens in Winter and The Handbook of Bird Identification for Europe and the Western Paleoarctic! Oh, and I almost forgot a book called Cowbirds and Other Brood Parasites. I told my mother about my haul and she giggled and said, "Your sisters got diamonds for Christmas and you, you're happy with a book about parasites." Quite true--you can't read a bracelet.

On top of the books and vibrating car seat he also got me a jar of propolis! Mmm. I used to hate honey, as a matter of fact I frequently made fun of friends and asked how their bee vomit tasted. One day Mr. Neil made us a "proper cup of tea" that had little floaty bits on top. Little did I know that he had put honey in my tea, and not just any honey but Really Raw Honey, which apparently is completely unprocessed and probably the reason why I never liked honey. This stuff was very pleasant and didn't leave a nasty after taste in my mouth as honey had in the past. The jars are all capped with pieces of honeycomb, wax and propolis. When you put it in your tea you have little waxy bits floating at the top of the mug. I love it so much that our own jar of honey loses its capping before we finish the jar which in turn leads to me whining to NBB that all the floaty bits are gone and we still have half a jar to go before I can buy more honey. So what does my clever husband do? He gets me a jar of cappings (left)! It looks gross, but boy is it tasty in tea! It also makes tea more like a snack or some frightening family remedy.

Now NBB and I are going to settle in for a good read on a wonderful gift from my mother-in-law--500 thread count sheets. Good grief, I thought 300 thread count was a little too decadent for us, but now 500 thread count? One day I'm afraid my sheets are going to have more material than my actual bed!

I hope everyone had as wonderful a weekend as we had. The best gift of all was just time, time with Bill and the pets, time to do just anything I wanted.

Dodo bits found! This is a Merry Christmas!

This time of year I like to reflect on how life has changed from this time last year. For example, this time last year most of us had no inclination that proof that the ivory-billed woodpecker still existed had been collected. Now news of dodo bird skeletons being discovered is spreading. I wonder if I can get Eagle Optics to sign me up to go on an archaeological dig?

There will probably be one downside to this. With complete skeletons, taxonomy will probably change again making all of our field guides out of order...again.

Scientists Find a Major Cache of Bones of the Long-Extinct Dodo Bird
By TOBY STERLING Associated Press Writer

AMSTERDAM, Netherlands Dec 23, 2005 — Scientists said Friday they found a major cache of bones and likely complete skeletons of the long-extinct Dodo bird, which could help them learn more about the lost creature's physique and habits.

The find is significant because no complete skeleton of a single Dodo bird has ever been retrieved from a controlled archaeological site in Mauritius. The last known stuffed bird was destroyed in a 1755 fire at a museum in Oxford, England, leaving only partial skeletons and drawings of the bird to go on.

The bird was native to Mauritius when no humans lived there but its numbers rapidly dwindled after the arrival of Portuguese and Dutch sailors in the 1500s. The last recorded sighting of a live bird was in 1663.

The international team of researchers found the bones on a sugar cane plantation on Mauritius, located in the Indian Ocean off the east coast of Madagascar.

They presented their findings at the National Museum of Natural History in the Dutch city of Leiden Friday.

"We have found 700 bones including bones from 20 Dodo birds and chicks but we believe there are many more at the site," said Kenneth Rijsdijk, a Dutch geologist from the Netherlands Organization for Applied Scientific Research, who led the dig.

DNA material from other Dodos exists, but Rijsdijk said more and better samples could be retrieved from the latest find, estimated to be 2,000 to 3,000-years-old.

Retrieving DNA means that the Dodo can be better placed in relation to other species. But recreating a live animal from its DNA remains in the realm of science fiction, Rijsdijk said.

The Dodo's name comes from a Portuguese word for "fool," so named because the bird showed no fear of humans and couldn't fly, making it easy prey for the colonists. The Dutch called it the Walgvogel, or "nasty bird" because it tasted so bad.

Modern scientists understand the Dodo more favorably. They believe the bird didn't fear humans because it had no natural predators on Mauritius and had lost the ability to fly because it was so large: adults grew to around a meter (yard) high and weighed around 20 kilograms, or about 50 pounds, considerably bigger than a pelican.

You can read the rest of the story here.

Merry Christmas

What more could a birdchick want? That's Non Birding Bill cuddling up with Cinnamon, aren't they adorable. I'm sure many readers of this blog are relieved that these aren't photos of "Naked Christmas".

Usually we have a "live" tree in our home for Christmas, but this year we decided to nix that idea since I was going to be away for most of December and apart from the rabbits who like to hide underneath it and make a fort out of all the presents, I'm the only one who really enjoys it. NBB did make us a tree out of his fancy stationary though. It reminds me of one of our first years up here when we were super busy for Christmas and didn't have a lot of money. We decided not to have any tree at all and keep the holidays low key.

That Christmas Eve I was driving home from work and I had $15 cash in my pocket. I passed a neighborhood garden store that advertised four foot live trees clearanced for $12. I thought I would surprise NBB with one. I pulled in and asked for a four foot tree. The young man told me that they were out of the four footers but had a few five footers left for $20. I said, "No thanks, I don't have $20." He very haughtily replied with a sneer, "You don't have $20?" Humiliated and disappointed I drove home. I walked in to our apartment and hanging from our ceiling was a beautiful tree made out of all these left over pieces of stationary that NBB uses for letters. The tree came all the way down to the floor. It was the most beautiful tree I had ever seen and I started to cry. NBB hugged me and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry, I thought you would like it, we can take it down." I told him "NO!" and that the reason I was crying was how thoughtful and pretty I thought the tree was and related the experience I had just had at the garden store. We had an O Henry moment and Christmas was saved.

Incidentally, that garden store is no longer in business. I'm sure their customer service skills--or lack thereof had a great deal to do with it.

Merry Christmas!

I and the Bird

I forgot to mention that the latest installment of I and the Bird is up and running at WoodSong, be sure and check it out.

There are a massive amount of contributors this week, it's really great to see how much this carnival has grown and all the networking going on.

And now for me, on to the 007 Christmas Marathon.

I Really Want to Disapprove...

Cinnamon is perplexed.

I was putting groceries away and she came in to the kitchen (where "in theory" she is not allowed to go) to disapprove of how I was loading the fridge but was caught off guard when I told her we were going to Madison next week to check in with the gang at Eagle Optics. She wants to disapprove but obviously cannot contain her excitement. We're going to the Concourse Hotel and I think she has a thing for Brian the bartender at the Governer's Club Lounge. She did finally end with disapproving of the amount of dust under the baker's rack.

I'm getting an idea of where Eagle Optics will be sending me the first couple of months of 2006: Bird Watch America (considering that Amy Hooper, Bill Thompson and Jeff Bouton will be on hand, I'm sure that means karaoke. Bobby Harrison will be there as well so I'd like to see if we can get him to sing some Elvis songs.), San Diego Bird Festival, Connecticut Audubon Society Bald Eagle Festival (which has Phil Donahue moderating one of the speakers--Phil Donahue a birder? I'm actually not so sure. This is an eagle festival and having led my fair share of eagle trips I find that bald eagles bring out quite a few non birders. Even Non Birding Bill will go out with me to look for eagles--anyway, I should get some interesting blog material from that), and the Ivory-billed Woodpecker Celebration. That carries me through February. Sometime in there I'm supposed to go with Non Birding Bill to Ohio to visit the Non Birding Inlaws. Whew!

When I started working at All Seasons Wild Bird Store, I worked out of the company headquarters in Bloomington. I used to joke that the bosses were sending me further away as I went on to work at the Minnetonka store and then even further at the Wayzata store. I wonder what I should make of Dan at Eagle Optics who is sending me around the country and away to swamps?

I'm still not fully recovered from my trip. I went out with NBB to his holiday office dinner and had only one drink and lots of sushi and crashed on our Love Sac by 8:30pm when we got home. However, I am making progress by waking up naturally at 6:30am instead of 4:45am. Tuesday morning I had a segment on Balanced Breakfast with Ian and Margery. On more than one occasion I am awake as soon as the producer calls to tell me that I'm on after the next commercial. I think I do a pretty good job of sounding awake. Although one morning I did get stumped when Ian asked where the "gos" from "goshawk" came from and I couldn't remember that is was from "goose hawk"--that was embarassing. Anyway, this week I was up and raring to go--even making a tasty breakfast for NBB as I chatted away on my segment. That is a huge plus to doing radio segments as opposed to tv segments, you do not have to be cleaned up or spiffed up...or even wearing clothes for that matter.

Kids Afraid of Santa

So Non Birding Bill sent me a link to a site that collects photos of children afraid of Santa Claus. The Santas in the photos are as funny (and in a few cases kinda frightening--especially the Santa in photo number five).

Enjoy!

Possible IBWO Smackdown?

I got an email today announcing NOVA scienceNOW with Robert Krulwich, which premieres Tuesday, January 10, 2006, at 8 PM ET on PBS. The fifth installment of this energetic science magazine series features the top science stories of 2005 including the Ivory-billed Woodpecker. I like how at the bottom they are considering having Jackson and Fitzpatrick at the same time...I'd like to hear a live debate. I wonder if it would stay civil? Part of me wants to hear both sides well laid out and thoughtfully proposed, but the 13 year old inside me would really like to see it degenerate into an all out name calling fight that might even end in something like "You could bird yourself out of a wet paper bag!" or "You wouldn't know a Campephilus double knock even if one used your gigantic nose as a resonator!" I don't think it would add anything to science, I just think it might take the edge off of those birders are geek rumors.

However, the series is on PBS so I doubt my dream will come true. Here's the announcement:

EXTINCTION-- IVORY BILLED WOODPECKER
Correspondent Carla Wohl reports on a cautiously hopeful story from the world of nature that is causing a controversy: the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, a creature long thought to be extinct, may have returned from the brink. The last confirmed sighting of the bird occurred in 1944, until recent claims of encounters in an Arkansas cypress swamp began emerging last year. Right now, the only hard visual evidence is a scrap of blurry video taken by David Luneau, a professor at the University of Arkansas, but the experts disagree on it.

John Fitzpatrick, the head of Cornell’s respected ornithology department is unequivocal that it is an Ivory Bill. Jerome Jackson, an ornithologist at Florida Gulf Coast University, is not convinced. Meanwhile, several audio recordings have also been made and examined. Plus, Luneau has placed motion-detecting cameras in promising places in the woods, since nothing less than an 8x10 glossy of this elusive bird will convince the most cynical skeptics of its comeback.

I also was hoping you'll be able to link to this cool package online, in time for the accompanying on-air NOVA premiere on January 10.

Ivory Billed Woodpecker
Ask the Expert-Ornithologist John Fitzpatrick of Cornell University answers viewer questions on the Ivory Billed woodpecker. [Note: Also considering having Dr. Jackson share ATE with Fitzpatrick. He is a skeptic.]

Job Opening

I tried to get Non Birding Bill to apply for this so that way I could use him as my puppet to do my bidding and finally take complete control of the North American birding world but he flat out said "No! I will not be used in such a fashion!"

(oops, did I say the queit part loud again?) Anyway, interesting job available:

PRESIDENT/CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER–The Board of Directors of the American Birding Association (ABA) invites applications for President/Chief Executive Officer. The ABA, the leading North American non-profit membership birding organization, provides leadership and guidance for field birders with a rich array of publications, educational programs, meetings, partnerships, and networks. The ABA, located in Colorado Springs, expects its President/CEO: To possess a thorough understanding of financial management of non-profit organizations, including budgeting, and budget implementation. To understand and share passion for wild birds of the North American birding community; To provide strong, visionary leadership that inspires the board, staff, and membership, while developing the organization's potential; To have strong personnel management skills that includes team-building and conflict resolution. Additional skills needed are: Proven leadership in managing a non-profit organization; Experience in fundraising and development; Excellent oral and written communication; A strong working knowledge of staff-board relations; Ability to conduct and implement long-term strategic planning. Salary commensurate with experience. Additional information about the American Birding Association may be obtained on the ABA website (URL: http://www.americanbirding.org). To apply, please submit a cover letter, curriculum vitae, and three references with contact information (including addresses, phone numbers, and email) to: CAROL WALLACE, Executive Assistant, American Birding Association, 4945 N 30th Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80919-3151.

Ivory-billed Woodpecker Product Lines

Are you desperate to find the perfect gift for that birder who seems to have everything, except for an ivory-billed woodpecker on their life list? Then, The Ivory-bill Nest (870-734-5001) is the shop for you! They do not have a website up yet, so if you see something in this entry you really like, you will need to give them a call.

Besides all the ivory-bill eating and sleeping that can be done in Brinkley, there are also all the shopping opportunities. This shop had a wide and fun (and kinda odd) selection of products all dedicated to the awe-inspiring logcock. Products ranged from hats, shirts, purses, paintings, lucky charms (not the cereal), earrings, notecards, etc. I haven't seen merchandising like this since Pikachu.

In talking with Lisa the owner, she was very interested in our experience with the local people in and around Brinkley. Overall everyone was very nice. She asked about hunters and for the most part they were incredibly friendly--I myself was often offered beer and/or rides on their ATVs. My favorite was a group that I met who were taking down their deer stand for the season. One of them was an older gentleman wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt with a round little belly sticking out. When we saw me approaching he quickly closed up one button right over is belly button. It was a very sweet gesture.

Anyway, Lisa was curious because some hunters have been a little vocal and weary about what this woodpecker in their woods means. She said that her own husband fought her tooth and nail to open that shop but she said that she went ahead and opened The Ivory-bill Nest anyway. She's a neat gal, so be sure to stop in and say hi if you visit Brinkley.

One of my hands down favorite shirts was "Got Pecker? We Do!" I had to chuckle because at one point I overheard a lady say, "Oh, they have such vulgar shirts at that shop! Got Pecker, can you imagine?" I giggled and she said, "I suppose at your age you think that's clever." I pulled up my sweater and revealed my shirt that reads "Hot All-Bird Action" and said, "You're talking to a girl who made up this shirt." The desired effect of a disgruntled look from the lady was achieved and of course I had to throw in, "I was going to get my mom one of those pecker shirts but they didn't have them in her size." Which is the honest truth, anyone who has ever met my mother would agree that shirt suits her. She is simultaneously one of the wackiest yet most intelligent people you will ever meet. She can have an in depth conversation with a college professor over Shakespeare, Bronte or Steinbeck. Heck, she'll even throw in some Stephen Hawking or Carl Sagan into the mix, but she'll never turn down a good pecker joke. Alas, it is hard to find shirts for my mother who is only four foot eight inches.

I did get one of the "Got Pecker?" Camo hats but almost got the "Where's Dat Der Peckerwood?" instead. It was a tough choice. One bummer thing about the "Got Pecker?" shirts is that they do not include an image of the ivory-bill which is half the fun.

There were of course hand painted ivory-billed holiday ornaments, and I just couldn't resist the kitsch of the sparkley silver one with an ivory-bill flying across it. Maybe that's why it is so hard to see this bird, we need to start using disco balls!

The ivory-billed artwork was kind of all over the place for my taste. I don't know if I'm really of good judge of art since my music taste runs from David Bowie to the Grease 2 Soundtrack (it's a sickness, I know) Here is a sampling and I will let you be the judge of what is art and what is not:











































Our group spent most of our money on the t-shirts which are available in short and long sleeved and in a variety of colors. I got Non Birding Bill a red one of these (he looks very good in red):


















I did find this shirt in my mom's size and got this for a Christmas present for her (don't worry, I'm not spoiling her surprise, she checks my blog about as often as I clean house).


















And if that art work doesn't suit you or if you want to impress your friends you can get an official Ivory-bill University shirt that shows you got schooled in good ole Brinkley and now have the strongest bird fu when it comes to Campephilus principalis.


















And on the off chance that you did not get to see the woodpecker in the swamp, you can still have your photo taken with an ivory-billed. Ivory-bills on your shoulder make you happy. Note: this sculpture was not made to actual ivory-bill size.

Brinkley, It's a Helluva Town!

Just a quick note, if there is anyone who reads this blog who is going on the Cornell Ivory Bill search and has questions about living conditions and supplies to bring, please feel free to email me privately with questions.

Many in the fair town of Brinkley have embraced the idea of having the rarest woodpecker in North America nearby. If you go on a trip down to look for the oh-so-elusive woodpecker, you can certainly bask in the its glory by eating, sleeping and buying the Ivory -bill. I did not stay at the Ivory Billed Inn and RV Park (1-800-800-8000) but it looks like a lovely hotel on the outside. I was thinking it would be fun if they did it like a theme hotel and the rooms were all woodpecker cavities with sawdust floors and beetle larvae shaped pillows. But again, that may just be me who would find that fun. There is a Mexican restaurant attached to the Inn which as wonderful festive decor and wonderful food--even some vegetarian selections too. When you visit the restaurant, make sure to visit the restrooms, they will knock your socks off...in an artistic decorating sense, not in the usual gross sense.

One of the must dos of visiting Brinkley is dining at Gene's Barbecue and Restaurant and eating the famed Ivory-billed Burger: two beef patties with lettuce, tomato, pepper jack bacon, mozzarella cheese and mayonnaise (pictured, right). I have to admit, it was a mighty tasty burger. You can also order the Ivory-bill Salad which consists of lettuce, tomato, sunflower seeds (a nice touch considering the bird theme), mozzarella and chicken (because that's what ivory-bills essentially taste like). And if you want to round out a complete ivory-bill dinner you can top it off with the official Ivory-bill Brownie! If an Ivory-billed full course meal is not your cup of tea, the barbecue is very good--just the way I like it, on the tangy side. Gene's also serves breakfast but surprisingly did not have an Ivory-billed omelet.


The marketing of the bird didn't end there, the restaurant also sells their own ivory-billed t-shirts (left). The back of the shirt reads "Don't Worry Be Happy" which I wonder is meant to be a message to hunters who might be understandably concerned about the woodpecker discovery and whether or not they will have future access to traditional hunting grounds. When our group walked into the restaurant I think we stood out in our LL Bean and Land's End clothing. Perhaps they were thinking, "Who are these nutty people going in to look for one bird?"

If you want to blend in with the locals, I recommend buying some camo, everyone wears it. I found a very nice warm fleece camo jacket at the local Walmart. Overall, the townsfolk our very nice and friendly. I just learned today that I will probably be going back to Arkansas for the Call of the Wild Ivory-billed Woodpecker Celebration in February and look forward to visiting Brinkley again.

No Comment

I'm so tired. That is me, with team member Jeff Gordon on the iced up Cache River. I am so excited, I now have notes and information that will be stored in Cornell's Macaulay Library, kind of a childhood dream of mine.

Well, I am back and I want to thank Julie for doing a tremendous job of taking over the blog while I was gone. I was catching up on the entries last night and I think the photo of Chet Baker sitting at the table staring at his birthday stew is my favorite. I laughed for a good ten minutes over that one. I also see my clever plan worked, I have suspected that Julie would make a great blogger and sure enough after running this blog she has started her own. WHOO HOO!

I have so much stuff to show and tell! Some will show up here, some will show up on Cornell's site. Some will show up within the next few days, some will show up within the next few months. Two weeks of intense birding cannot be dumped into one post.

I have to say that I was going into this a little nervous - nine people crammed into a small living space working long hours is usually the stuff of reality television ( I would say bad reality television, but that would be redundant). But I have to say that this was the best group I have ever gone birding with. Sometimes a situation like this can bring out intense competiveness and then that leads to everyone trying to prove themselves and egos get in the way. I truly felt that we were on a level playing field and I honestly enjoyed everyone's company on our team.

Alright, now I have to sort through photos and get ready for another post later today. Right now I'm going to rejoice in food that doesn't require being mixed with boiling water for two minutes before you eat it, high speed internet, not getting up at 4:45am, wearing only one layer of clothing around the house, wearing clothing that doesn't make me walk like mallard or with the same coloration, and snuggling up to Non Birding Bill.

There's Sports, and then there's...

Coming home today, the most extraordinary sky appeared as we crested a hill and came out of the woods--a mackerel sky, pearly and lit softly from above and below. The sun was shining through it as through a lattice, making dozens of little glory rays. I was so glad I had my camera. The skies and the moon lately have been stunning. Liam and I rode home the back way just to admire the moon last night--to get away from streetlights and other cars.
Squeezed a walk into our busy day today, much of it spent at Phoebe's holiday basketball tournament. Phoebe plays basketball more like her mother than like her super-athletic daddy; she dreams across the court. I remember treating team sports as a chance to hide in the farthest outfield and watch birds and clouds. I loved being in the outfield, but not because I could catch or throw. I identify completely with Phoebe's look of intense ennui as she waits out her time on court. Basketball has been wonderful for her in terms of feeling part of a team, and she's bonded closely with the other girls in the process. It's been good.

Moving Scooby Doo is a sport better suited to my proclivities. Namely, one I invented. I stink at following anyone else's rules. See, it's a one-dog sport. We've got Scoob all the way past the oilwell now. Chet really digs bettering his last carrying record. I love the fact that he gets the whole point and he doubtless loves hearing my laughter as he gives Scoob a good shaking, then gallops ahead on the trail, the deflated ball flopping against his chest. When I was thinking about which breed of dog would best fit our lifestyle, my number one priority was that it have a sense of humor. After that, I wanted short hair and a smallish but athletic build. The googly eyes and smashy face went along with the package.


I thought I'd show you the well jack to whom we owe our toasty-warm home--it pumps the free gas. You can see Scooby in the lower right corner of the photo. It'll be interesting to see how Chet handles moving Scooby once we enter the woods. And even more interesting to see if he'll leap the stream or charge up the steep hill we call the Cut while bearing his load. Well, I've been messing about with this entry for a good hour now, when I was supposed to be at a Christmas party. I guess I've joined the ranks of those with blog fever. I have so enjoyed sharing this beautiful life with you all, even though I've no idea how many of you there are, or who you are. How odd! I hope you'll come visit me at my blog when Sharon takes back the reins at Birdchick. Seems like we ought to be hearing from her any time now. Is no news...good news? The less we hear, the better? Halooooo out there! Cottonmouth got yer tongue?

Heartlessness as a Horticultural Virtue

I've decided that heartlessness is an asset in greenhouse keeping. I've seen plenty of hobbyist's greenhouses that were more like catacombs, full of overgrown plants, dried out, miserable, unloved and smothered in their own dead foliage. You definitely can't turn your back on a greenhouse; you've got to constantly monitor the temperature, move things around so they don't get chilled or baked in the sun, clean and most importantly cut things back and THROW THEM OUT. I've been hearing the screams from my little 9' round Garden Pod for a couple of weeks now. There was a red mandevilla that had taken over the door and several pots around it with long, twining tendrils, and two planters full of cuttings taken in September that HAD to be potted up. I am a collector of plants, and there are many plants I can't live without. This variegated alpine geranium, this Laguna lobelia with the white eye; dozens of fancy-leaved, dwarf and miniature gerania. There are so many plants to love, and only so much room in the Pod.
The really cool thing about plants is that all you need is a cutting, a snippet, the DNA you're after. I take cuttings while things are growing madly in September, and they root well. But just to be sure, I bring the mother plants in until I'm certain I've got viable rooted cuttings. So the Pod was overstuffed with giant planters, full of giant plants, that were too beautiful to toss out. But there comes a time for everything, and , as beautiful as they were, these mother plants were no longer needed. More than that, they were blocking light from their children, the cuttings that I spent the day potting up. They had to go. So I steeled myself, and tossed out six planters' worth. The snow gently covered them as they lay on the compost heap. Yes, heartlessness is an asset. I'm sorry, mother plants, I truly am, but you're too big now, and I'll carry on with cuttings. Here they are, neatly potted and labeled. Greenhouses should be places of burgeoning growth and renewal, not death and decadence. A contented sigh from the Pod and its heartless keeper. Let it snow. I've got Aruba in my little greenhouse.

Jazz and Freezing Rain

It rained all day today, the kind of day that makes me glad I'm not a white-tailed deer or a junco. Imagine being out in pouring rain, when it's 36 degrees outside. And all you've got to keep you warm, after your fur or feathers are soaked through, is food. I stoked the suet dough and mealworms and seed feeders and marveled at the strength of these tiny birds, surviving elements that would kill a human in hours.
Meanwhile, we stay inside, warmed by the natural gas that wells up from the oil well on our land. I know this sounds like something from the Beverly Hillbillies, but there is an oil well on our land, and the natural gas that sits atop the oil makes its way to our house through an orange PVC pipe that runs along the edge of our meadow. They call it Free Gas. It's good stuff, too, straight out of the earth and hot as Hades, and you can boil a teakettle in a couple of minutes. We get a royalty on the oil that's sold off our well each month, if the oil and gas company remembers to pay it. It's nice all around. The pump jack is one of those things that looks like a drinking bird; it's on a timer, and it dips up and down for a few hours each day, pumping oil into a storage tank. There are so many side benefits to living in the middle of nowhere, in a place that is rich in oil and gas deposits, that sometimes we do feel like the Beverly Hillbillies, passing our pots with pool cues.
Bill is a gifted musician, and he plays bass and guitar. He's in demand as a jazz bassist, with his fretless Peavey. Every Sunday, he plays a brunch gig at the Blennerhassett Hotel in Parkersburg, WV. This is an immaculately restored historic hotel near the Ohio River, with oversized leather chairs and wonderful bartenders. It's easy to forget you're in West Virginia, and imagine yourself in Chicago or New York when you hear the music and sip a Cosmopolitan. Sometimes, Bill III plays there with his dad, Bill Jr., his honorary uncle Bruce DeMoll, and peerless drummer Chet Backus (no, not Chet Baker!). These four have a musical language that comes from years of collaboration. When his mom Elsa sings, it's really heavenly. My favorite thingto watch is the two Bills' heads bobbing in
unison. I hope my Bill grows up like his daddy. Listening to their music is the perfect counterpoint to hanging out with the kids all day. It feels like a grown-up thing to do.

Zen Morning, Babylon Day

The backroads leading from our home to Marietta are so seductive. Every time I resolve to take the main road, which saves about ten minutes, I turn off as if pulled by a magnet on my favorite backwoods route. I can't resist it. Today, there were unexpected sheep and goats on a white hill against a leaden sky. This is the kind of road that allows sudden stops and lingering. Good thing. I'd have been flattened long ago if there were much traffic on it.

I would bet that many people are unfamiliar with the concept of meat goats. Most of us think of dairy goats when we think of goats. But people around here raise goats for meat. They're different from dairy breeds--much blockier, but no less intelligent. I cannot imagine raising a goat and then eating it. There's something in their eyes that seems to reach into one's soul. This is a meat goat, alone on the crest of the hill.




I hadn't gone much farther when I found the horned larks that Bill said would
be in the freshly manured field along the same road. They were no more than a fleeting glimpse as they disappeared over the hill. The crows made a bolder statement. I spent the rest of the day in town, running around like a crazy person, provisioning our house for the next week, running errands, and matting and framing paintings and prints. I much preferred the morning, which was spare and stark, and all about composition.

To a Rabbit

After our all-out, no-holds-barred attack on rabbits a couple of days ago, I started to feel bad. I like rabbits! It was Chet who got all uppity about being "king of this blog." He's a guy. Stuff like that happens when you get guys involved. I happen to think Cinnamon is a vision of lagopulchritude. It's the Rex breed of rabbit that I drool over every September, in the Small Animal Barn of our county fair. I'd have a rabbit if they didn't make my nose tickle, and my eyes itch...


So I decided to paint a rabbit, and show the steps of making this little painting here.
First, I start with a sketch I like, of a cottontail resting out on our lawn (made pre-dog, obviously. Cottontails don't get much rest around here anymore.) The next step is to paint some winter weeds around her, and put a nice wet wash of burnt umber and cobalt blue over the wet ground of her body. I make her fur much darker than it should be, because I'm about to sprinkle ordinary table salt atop that wash. Salt is hydrophilic, which means it draws water toward itself. Each grain makes a little puddle, and the pigment settles around that puddle of clear water. This gives a lovely organic effect that you couldn't do convincingly by trying. I use a lot of salt in my paintings these days. It's a big help for someone who is so used to painting feathers, that I panic a bit when asked to render other textures, like fur. The painting's about done now.



I want it to look spontaneous and quick, and it has been. But although a watercolor may be executed very quickly, there's a lot of thought and consideration that goes into making it look spontaneous.

Cinnamon, you're beautiful. This one's for you, kid!

Another snowy day, spent cleaning and getting ready to trim the Christmas tree. Today is a special day: Chet Baker turns 1! We decided to let him eat beef stew out of his bowl at the table with us, something he thought was a great idea. Here, waitress Phoebe helps him with his chair.
Then he digs in with the kids.
We had a ball at the big pet store in town,picking out toys we thought Chet would like. But he's developed a preternatural ability

to get the squeaker out of any toy, always accompanied by clouds of Hollofil. Our house is dotted with Hollofil bunnies from all the toys he's slaughtered. Even this squeaky football fell prey to his teeth. He's unrepentant, even though nobody can say "I'm sorry!" better than a googly-eyed Boston terrier.
I'm sorry about the shirt, Chet.

One Last Post for the Week

Hi Ho, Sharon here!

Okay, one last check of email and interrupting Julie before getting back to serious, hard core, so intense that it is almost soul crushing birding for the next week (and I am loving every minute of it). Yesterday one of my team members Jeff and I prank called Birding Bill. It was awesome.

Tonight we are going back to our oh-so-humble-abode but we are taking a moment to admire the miles and miles of snow geese flying over our heads--too cool (or kewl as my niece Nicole would use with her hip lingo).

I did get to try the famous Ivory-bill Hamburger and will have tons of fun photos to post. Brinnkley, AR is one of the friendliest towns I have ever been in. Everyone is so polite and helpful, I really like it here.

Oh, for the record: canoing across/through ice is a huge and noisy pain in the tookus.

And for those who were curious and or worried about how to use the bathroom in chest waders in the swamp: It's not as hard as you think, you get a system down and quite frankly if you have to go bad enough you don't notice how cold it is as you're whipping them off.

And for the record, Cinnamon may not be able to pull a sled, but she can chew a phone line faster than any other lagomorph this side of the Mississippi.

That Meddlesome Dog

Chet Baker Speaks:

OK, Cinnamon, I've got a challenge for you. How are you at pulling sleds? Huh? I not only pull them, but I cause spectacular wipeouts, then steal the sled, pull it all by myself, and give sloppy kisses to the kids. I'll bet rabbits bite when they kiss. I'm King of this Blog. It's a Dog Blog now, Bunnyface, and for the next week, there's nothing you can do about it. P.S. I CHASE bunnies. Bunnies are very careful around my yard. They come out only at night. Even the word "Bunny" sends me leaping up to the nearest windowsill, looking for my foe. There. I've said it. But you started it. Zick: That'll do, Chet. Down, boy.
It's snowing like crazy again, even though the weather says there's a slight chance of snow showers. Hmmph. Three inches and counting.

I'm home today, trying to get the house back under control so we can put the Christmas tree up tonight. There's something in me that balks at putting up a Christmas tree in a sloppy house. Gotta have it just perfect. We're also celebrating Chet's one-year-birthday tonight. I cannot begin to say what a happy difference that little dog has made in all our lives. The joy quotient has gone way up, and I'm sure we laugh now at least twice as much as we did before he arrived.

Last night was another bacchanale, a wine dinner with wonderful friends. The hosts were showcasing spicy Rhone Valley wines, and each of the seven couples attending made incredibly hearty courses to pair with them--seven incredibly hearty courses. We were all groaning by the time the Thompson/Zickefoose entry came around in slot #7--pork loin with apples, sweet potatoes, and a savory apple juice-honey-pepper sauce. Caveman Bill cooked it outside in his big cast-iron Dutch oven. It was fab, if a little over-the-top for a dessert. The wines were big, hearty, and fabulous. I drank about a tablespoon of each one, since we had a snowy drive home.
Well, back to cleaning the house and hanging dripping snowsuits atop doors. So great to hear from Sharon again!

Bunny Rights

"I disapprove of Chet Baker!"

Hello, Sharon here, I escaped the research station for a momentary check of email and couldn't resist blogging. My email was full of complaints and memos from Cinnamon about "bunny rights" with a petition signed by Hazel and Kabuki that the blog is going to the dogs. I have to placate Cinnamon, but I think Julie is doing a fabulous job and I'm sorry I can't read it day to day.

Well, off to go back to the station before they notice I'm gone and not working and to look for that which cannot be named.

Go Julie!

The snow is grainy and hard, but it still gives enough surface for a pretty good sled ride. Bill and Liam got suited up and took a few trips down our hill. Liam's favorite part is the wipe-out at the bottom. He pitches forward on his face, on purpose. Chet follows them down the hill but won't climb on the sled. His job is to lick faces after the wipeout.
The birds are going through food like there's no tomorrow. I had one goal in my crazy day yesterday, and that was to make a triple batch of peanut butter suet dough so I wouldn't be empty-handed when the Carolina wrens came calling this morning. I did it, just before rushing back out the door, trying not to get lard on my good red sweater, and the wrens have full crops this morning. Those little birds probably owe their lives to suet dough, especially when ice coats everything for the better part of a week.
We had a great time last night playing at a Songwriter's Night in Parkersburg WV. I was impressed by the indelible Appalachian flavor of the music, performer after performer. It's not a World Cafe out there--there are still regional influences and styles of music that persist, something I find comforting.

What a wild day. I set my alarm and, forgetting that the radio volume was turned all the way down, slept hard. Thank goodness Chet came snuffling at the door to wake me, or I'd never have made it to Athens. I had a date to record three commentaries for NPR at 9:30. The roads were horrible, thanks to a snowstorm last night, but I hurried out the door. This is not the first time I've been thankful to have a big fat ol' Explorer. It took two hours to make the normally 1 1/2-hour drive, but I plumped down in the studio chair at 9:28, with two minutes to spare.
The engineer who normally records my pieces is out of town, and so is the guy who fills in for him, so the job of connecting to NPR's studio in Washington was left to a brave soul named Steve Skidmore. In the next half-hour, he figured out a brand new computer setup and finally made the ISDN connection that would allow me to read my commentaries in Athens, Ohio, and have them received and recorded in Washington, D.C. Yikes. We were all sweating bullets. NPR studio time is at a premium, and we burned about 40 minutes of it just trying to figure out how to connect. I roared through three commentaries--actually, I think the adrenaline was a help. Then I recorded one that I wrote, on a notebook balanced on my lap, on the drive over to Athens this morning. I never know when they'll air on All Things Considered until the afternoon that it happens, but I'll try to let you know. In the meantime, you can check out the archives if you've got the time or inclination.
I picked up a computer for a friend who'd bought it on e-Bay, making what seemed like a kind of shady deal for a nice Mac on a streetcorner, then raced home to feed the animals and get ready to go out again this evening. Bill and I are playing music at a singer/songwriter's night in Parkersburg, WV. We've got 15 minutes, and we'll sing five or six of his songs. Running through them, I was struck by how good they are. I'm proud of my big sweet guy. Now to jump in the shower, fix dinner for Liam, and climb back in the Explorer. Phew. No time for pretty pictures or poems today!

Snowed In, Happily

It's snowing like mad right now, huge fluffy flakes pelting down. Bill, Phoebe, Liam and I rode into town this evening to procure our Christmas tree, a 7' Fraser fir that filled the car with heavenly fragrance. This was followed by an outing at the new Mexican restaurant in town. Bill and I eavesdrop on the waiters and really enjoy deciphering what they're saying. One man always touches the kids' foreheads, a lovely ritual that we saw a lot in south Texas, a blessing to the child.
I finished my ivory-bill painting today. I'd love to show it to you, including the progress pictures I took over the week it was on the drawing table, but that will have to wait until after it's been published. I'll have my own blog by then. Charlie likes it, anyway. I tried an interesting thing, sending jpegs out to my artist friends and asking for feedback. It was a first--a painting by committee. Their suggestions were terrific, and I incorporated almost every one, except for my friend Margaret's. She suggested that I add a toad on one of the fallen logs. Nancy Tanner added that the bird was flying too low. There wasn't much I could do about that one!
We shopped for toys for Chet Baker's birthday tonight. He'll be one on December 12. We brought home a couple of bags of ridiculous things for him, and while everyone was out of the room, Chet climbed up on the kitchen table and stole the best one right out of the bag, a Mexican jumping bean that passes gas when bitten. Durn dog.

It figures that it's snowing so hard. I have a date to record some more commentaries for National Public Radio's All Things Considered at 9:30 tomorrow morning. This wouldn't be a problem, but WOUB, the studio where I do the recording, is 1 1/2 hours away in Athens, Ohio. Chances of my getting there in this snow are slim to nil. I started writing and recording three-minute commentaries for NPR in July, 2004, and 16 have aired since then. This is one of the more challenging things in my life, but I absolutely love it; writing something I think my editors might accept is always a gamble, recording the pieces is a gas, and looking for things worth writing about is the most fun of all. I've promised myself that if I do get snowed in tomorrow, I'll spend part of the day thinking up some more topics.
If you're looking for Christmas gifts for your friends and family, try the wish list I made up for NPR's web site. Several of my friends say they've gotten ideas from it. I hope Bill's reading it.
That's enough shameless self-promotion for one evening, I think. And now, to bed.

Moving Scooby-Doo

All apologies to Cinnamon, the rabbit who normally rules this blogsite, but I must tell you about a game Chet Baker and I have been playing this winter. It's called Moving Scooby-Doo. Scooby-Doo is a small basketball, long since deflated by Chet's sharp teeth, that Chet moves a little farther out the meadow every time we walk the Loop. The game started in the yard, when Chet decided to bring Scooby along on a walk. He lost interest after a few yards, though, and there Scoob lay on the meadow path, forgotten until the next walk. Most times, Chet remembers to pick Scoob up and haul him a little farther along the trail, but sometimes, like today, I have to remind him to do it. He seems to get the joke. He gives Scoob a wicked shake and romps about a hundred feet down the trail with it. My goal (I can't really speak for Chet) is to have Scooby go all the way around the Loop and make it back to the house by springtime. In this photo, you can barely see the house in the upper left corner. We've come a long way, but as the hike takes 45 minutes, we've got a ways to go. Notice the buck rub on the little Charlie Brown Christmas pine right behind Chet?

Today was enchanted. I got great looks at five pileated woodpeckers, and heard two more, for a grand total of seven encounters. Two birds flew over the north studio windows, as another pair foraged just outside in the dogwoods, pecking ice off the frozen fruit, then downing entire clusters of four or five fruits in one