Wildlife Weekend :: Cardinal Virtues

We have a crappy little $3 bird feeder that hangs from the basketball stand in the front yard. We don't get that many interesting birds that feed from it, but sparrows and blackbirds seem to enjoy it, which is all that counts. But the other day my eagle-eyed 5-year-old who misses nothing was quite excited to see a male cardinal getting seeds from the feeder and taking them over to a tree in our front yard.


We watched him for quite awhile from the kitchen window and wondered if he had a little lady in the tree sitting on a nest.


A few minutes later, he disappeared and she showed up. It looks like we have a mating pair.



The boys are amused by it and now I feel compelled to make sure the feeder is fully stocked at all times. Just what I needed - more birds on my list of things I feel compelled to feed. As if a husband, two boys, one dog, two cats, three chickens, and a mating pair of doves in the backyard wasn't enough?

Chicken Jumparoo - The Video

The long-awaited video has finally been made. Three chickens. One plate of leftover spaghetti. Instant entertainment.

The Great Sunflower Project

About a week before the rains came and my garden fell victim to the deluge, I planted a row of Mammoth Sunflowers next to my row of Jack Be Little Pumpkins. I was really looking forward to having tall beautiful sunflowers to brighten up the garden, and once they dried out I planned on throwing them in the chicken run to let the girls eat the leftovers. Not only do I like sunflowers, but I planted them to do my part in the Great Sunflower Project.


Professor Gretchen LeBuhn, a San Francisco State University biology professor, is signing up citizen researchers for the Great Sunflower Project, a program in the United States and Canada that aims to assess the health of bee populations, some of which are collapsing. Volunteers agree to plant one of bees' favorite flowers, namely sunflowers, and record how often the bees visit.

Bees are a lot more important to the welfare of our planet than many people realize. No bees means no pollenization, which means the disappearance of certain plant species, which in turn means the disappearance of certain animal species. And if we're all connected…what does that mean for us? It turns out that the reason for the disappearance of many bee species is complicated, but it can't be argued that man has a huge hand in the decline of the bees - specifically all of the pesticides we use to kill the bad bugs that have done a number on the good bugs as well. Plus there's global warming and the eradication of a lot of natural areas due to building that hasn’t helped either.


But enough about my soapbox and more about the project. If you're a gardener you owe it to the little pollinating bees to sign up with the Great Sunflower Project online. Just go to www.greatsunflower.org/ and sign up. It's completely free and they'll even send you a packet of sunflower seeds to get you started. Once you sign up you fill out an online form all about your garden. It's quite detailed and you'll need to say what part of the country you live in, what type of area you live in, what size your garden is, etc. Then there is a form to record the comings and goings of the bees that visit your sunflowers along with a detailed how-to sheet for participants.

If you're not a gardener, but you have some big pots and a sunny spot, you've got what it takes to plant some sunflowers. They'll grow like mad this summer and you'll have something pretty to look at and you're doing your part to help with the Great Sunflower Project.

If you're interested in the decline of bees you can find a lot of information online. You'll find out pretty quickly that it's a worldwide problem with websites from almost every country abuzz with information about declining bees. Here are some articles from a French website, an Australian website and an English website, all of which are pretty darned depressing if you ask me. It's no secret that I'm a bit of a tree hugger when it comes down to it, so hearing about the decline of a species, especially one this important, just makes me sad.

I think all of us owe it to the bees to take part in this project and see if we can help researchers shed some light on what is happening with bees across the United States. If I can grow sunflowers and attract bees, anyone can!

Survivors

I went out into the garden yesterday to see how bad the damage was and rescue any survivors. I'm afraid my mission went from a rescue mission to a recovery mission pretty quickly. Almost everything is dead and some of the plants have just washed away. What's still in one piece is droopy, yellow and wet. It's a pretty sad state of affairs to be honest.

According to the local weather, our area got close to 14 inches of rain and overall the state of Florida got more rain than it did during Tropical Storm Faye - I think around 27 inches. It's also more rain than the state has ever received from a non-tropical system. So we set records left and right. The initial damage estimates are at $100 million dollars for the state. So I guess my flooded yard and ruined garden don't matter in the grand scheme of life, although in my little world it just plain sucks.

But on to the survivors. A couple of the younger tomato plants look like they might recover, but the established plants look like their time is numbered. I plucked any tomatoes that looked like they had a hint of red on them and left the green ones for another day. This is the stash that I recovered and placed on the patio to ripen.


It looks good until you have a closer look and realize most of them have completely split open and are inedible.


Why aren't the birds eating these tomatoes? Maybe their tiny little bird bellies are full from all the good tomatoes they snarfed down before the rains came.

There was one lone green bell pepper clinging to a soggy plant so I plucked it off and brought it inside. The other bell pepper plant is missing so I'm guessing it washed away.


My leeks that I've had a loving relationship with since October of last year are starting to droop, so I got nervous when I saw them. I pulled two of them out to see how they looked because I'm worried they all need to come out of my soil-soup. I yanked two of them out and they seem okay, but they were only the size of thick scallions.


I won't go into the list of what's dead in the post because this is all about the survivors. I won't talk about the dead pumpkins, beans, peas, cucumber, zucchini, cantaloupe or okra. I'll keep this post about my sick little harvest of survivors and show the death and destruction for a later post.

Wildlife Weekend: Oh Deer!

The other week I passed about 25 deer standing in a field (well actually someone's back yard, but it's big enough to be classed a field in my world) on the way to Aidan's school smack in the middle of the day. We rarely see more than the occasional deer or two in the daytime around here. We see entire herds at night, but the daytime is not deer-time around here. When I told everyone around here about my flock o' daytime deer I got looks of disbelief.

Didn't I feel vindicated when I had my camera with me on Friday and there they were again!



Granted I only got a pic of about half the group before they took off, but at least I got photographic proof of my great daytime deer sighting. It's the little things that get me through the day.

Video Entry: A Wade to the Chicken Coop

Rare Saturday post. Thought you'd like to join me on the wade out from the house to the chicken coop. It's good fun. I realize that the video itself isn't very interesting, but I thought you'd want to see what I am currently experiencing. My favorite part is when I get to the chicken coop and I peer around the attractive piece of plywood I put there in a pathetic attempt to keep the hay dry, and my girls walk up the steps and do their special "we're happy to see you" clucks.

I'm not enjoying "it" right now

Yeah, you read it right. I'm not enjoying it. And by "it" I mean the garden and the chickens. All of this rain has meant taking care of both has turned into a chore that I dread each day. Funny how I enjoyed both last week and this week I'm ready to kick everything in the back yard to the curb.


The back yard is flooded. I think we've had over 10 inches of rain in one week. Granted some areas just north of here have had 24 inches in one week and there are roads and schools closed. But 10 inches of rain means the entire back yard is flooded with some areas having about 6 inches of standing water, our pool overflowed and our septic is making us nervous with bubbly digestive gurgles in the back yard.


We can't go out back without the dog getting soaked, the boys getting soaked from head to toe, requiring a full change of clothes when we get in, and me getting soaked from overly-enthusiastic splashing boys. The novelty of this for me wore off after the first day. We're on day 5 now. The novelty of this has not worn off for the boys or the dog.

When you wade over to the chickens you discover that this much rain turns their coop into a stinky-soupy-poopy-cesspool. I had to go to the feed store to buy another bale of hay because their tarp-covered bale of hay is now floating in our wheelbarrow. Their coop has hardwire sides to keep them cool in the oppressive Florida heat, but this ingenious solution means the rain gets in too. I spent close to 2 hours yesterday scraping out gobs of floating hay and poo, digging out clumps of wet chicken food from their feeder and scooping out bucketfuls of heavy, wet shavings from their transportation box (more on this later). Keep in mind I'm doing this while it's pouring with rain and I'm standing in about 4 inches of water. I finally left the coop dry and clean and was thoroughly exhausted when I was finished, but glad I wouldn't have to do anything like that again for a long time.

Last night I got smart and threw a huge tarp over the coop, but left one little part open so the chickens didn't get overheated while they slept. I knew they'd enjoy their first night in a dry coop all week. After hours of procrastination, I waded out there late this morning to discover that the little part I'd left open for them to get fresh air was just enough to make the coop look exactly like it did the day before. Exactly like it did the day before. Exactly. I can't begin to tell you the level of dismay I felt when I saw that. It took a lot of willpower not to grab the chickens and chuck them over the fence into our neighbors yard to mingle with their flock.

Then I waded over to the garden to see how it was holding up. The okra seedlings look quite pretty reflecting so perfectly in the puddle of water that has formed around them. The peas look like they're working on their suicide note and will soon be compost-bound. And you already read about my #&%@! cracked tomatoes. I don't even want to get in there and pull any weeds because my boot squelches down several inches when I step onto our nutrient-free soil, so I think it's best I stay out and watch it drown from a distance.


Before you think I'm really ready to throw in the towel, please know that I've read enough Hallmark cards and listened to enough Country music to know that things always get better after the rain, that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger, that if you can get though this, you can get through anything, that the sun will come out tomorrow... and that no matter what I'll still have the dog and the truck at the end of the day.