# Rambling on about birdies and squirrels



## paws

Disclaimer: These posts were mostly sort of cut and pasted from e-mails I had sent to someone who shall remain nameless but may have a pigeon named Mr. Squeaks. As such they were written in various tenses depending on the actual chronology of the events, and also on any possible whim I might have to use the past pluperfect imperative subjunctive conditional tense or something. So if there are occasional really bizarre passages, blame it on that.

Well, a summer has come and gone, and other than a couple of cameo visits, no sign of the pigeon family. On one visit I think I identified Dad and one of the newly adult squabs, so it’s good to know that at least one of the second generation made it through the winter. It was “Little Boy”, who was the less developed of the chicks, so I figure that “Fat Man” is also alive and well somewhere.

But, though lacking pigeons, I determined that there were a lot of other little and not so little birdies around. Sadly, I had no idea what the majority of them were (hey – I was pretty proud that I could identify pigeons), but I figured that I could rely on a pigeon forum contact to sort this out. So I fired off some fuzzy, grainy pictures to Shi (Mr. Squeaks), who forwarded them to her former son-in-law Paul, who instantly identified them as a Red Breasted Nuthatch and a Black Capped Chickadee.

I dashed to the web to find out about these little guys and was aghast to find that their conservation statuses were both “Least Concern”. This somehow implied that people should care more about Britney shaving her head and Paris doing time than whether these guys lived or died. Being contrarian by nature, I immediately set out to make sure these species survived and thrived, a process that involved several luxurious feeders, two that look suspiciously like leftover building materials, and one that looks a lot like a birdbath that the little pigs never used.

So my yard was soon buzzing, squeaking, chirping, and barking with a mass of animal life. Hey- now I know why these guys were “Least Concern!” Within days a vaguely spherical bird arrived that was quickly identified by the Shi-Paul connection as a Dark Eyed Junco. Then a gazillion of his close friends and relatives came by. But that comes later.


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## paws

*Chickadees*

In reading up on them, I learned that the chickadees’ chirping is a really rather advanced language. Those bursts of three "cheeps" can convey all kinds of stuff, from alarms to recognition of a passing flock. Supposedly the more “dee’s” at the end, the greater the danger in their alarm calls. I suspect that, since these guys don't migrate, the local Alaskan vocabulary is largely filled with variations of, "It's friggin’ cold!"

And, while the sexes look alike, so I'm not immediately passing judgment on the snackers' sexual orientation, I fear they may still be smitten by God for violating the "mixing of the seed" prohibition that banned interracial dating at Bob Jones University because, "They may interbreed with Carolina Chickadees or Mountain Chickadees where their ranges overlap." The black-capped chickadee may, that is... students at Bob Jones are not to take this out of context and start wooing the local bird population.

But it's not easy being a god-fearing chickadee: "The Black-capped and Carolina Chickadees are virtually impossible to tell apart visually, but they are readily distinguished by call." So if one of one species spots a hottie from the other, he/she can just play the strong, silent type and possibly get lucky. The article goes on to say that, "Their point of overlap is near New Brunswick, New Jersey," which is just another nail in that fine state's coffin. First the stench, then Newark, then Gov. McGreevey's gay extra-marital affair, and now we find that it's a hotbed of kinky chickadee sex.

Generally very polite little guys – not feeder hogs like some birds I might mention. In fact, that is one maddening trait: Never sitting still for more than about five seconds, they generally get their meals to go, darting off to a nearby tree to split open the seeds. It makes photography a real nightmare.


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## paws

*Nuthatches*

People with a lot of time on their hands determined that the nuthatches have decoded the chickadees, so they get the same warnings. One bit in the article made me wonder about their (the birds’) actual intelligence, though. The tests were done by playing back chickadee calls through a speaker. The nuthatches became more alarmed at the greater warnings, eventually mobbing the speaker when the "Russian missiles are two minutes out" (or whatever) warning was played. Now, how bright would you think someone was who dashed to join someone who is screaming, "I'm standing in flaming gasoline under a collapsing bridge in the middle of a gang shootout while being eaten by flesh eating bacteria!"? Great linguists, just not Mensa candidates.

But these guys are not new to thinking outside the box. They walk face first down trees (notice the big hooky back claw) and line the openings of their nests with resin to protect from predators. Oh, sure… that’s a good idea! “Oh, great idea, Honey – now he’s stuck in the door!”

One site said that the resin explains why their facial hair(?) is generally sort of mussed-up. I figure it’s from falling face first off of trees.

The tiniest things there, they are the gutsiest. They'll drop right in on the middle of a junco feeding frenzy, fat boys be damned. A few times I saw a junco try charging one, but the little thing stood his ground and erupted with a loud burst of "cawing" (for lack of a better term), so the junco backed down. They also dart in and out when the squirrel is there. Much more on the squirrel later.

It took me a while, but I finally realized I may have been threatened by nuthatches. That should make the little guys proud... Their victim thinks he may have been threatened. A few times, as I approached the feeder to replenish it, a nuthatch would fly by me, maybe five feet or so away. I thought that was so trusting - the other species stay well clear. Then I noticed them doing the same thing when the squirrel is on the feeder, and came to the realization that they were not being friendly, but threatening me with mortal peril if I didn't leave their food supply alone ("You saw how much that squirrel ate - we'd better keep this huge thing in a bathrobe away, or it's all gone in a second!"). This may be the nuthatch equivalent of grackles’, etc., swooping attacks to protect their nests. Yeah, they're little tough guys, but they must know their limitations. Juncos? No problem - they'll go toe-to-toe with them. Squirrels and larger? They'll fly reasonably close and hope that the weird buzzing noise scares them away. Otherwise they'll sit in a tree and wait.

But they are certainly fascinating, maybe for all the wrong reasons. For one thing, I don’t think they are really looking where they’re going. One time one landed literally a foot away from me, looked up, “peeped” in apparent fright, and fled in a split second. That was topped when one actually landed on my head and fled similarly quickly. That one may have been on a chickadee dare. And they talk a lot, too. Maybe not as eloquently as the chickadee, but they have to be the loudest things per ounce on earth. They yell at threatening juncos. They just sit in trees and yell. The make “peeping” noises as they fly: “flutter flutter peep flutter flutter peep…” I think of them as tiny New Yorkers.

The flying “peeping” is funny. I figure it is either a warning sound, like a backup alarm, “Warning! Warning! Ridiculously absent minded nuthatch flying through!”, or after years of ending up in totally unexpected places, like my hair, they are just plain scared: “Oh no! Oh no!”


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## paws

*The Downside of Understanding Chickadees*

The nuthatches being multilingual is a double edged sword. On the one hand, they can keep up to date on the local predator risk level, and know when the Guy in the Bathrobe puts out more seeds, but they also get to hear the chickadees' brutal mocking when they, say, try to swallow something as big as their heads. In his defense, this actually is a good move: Like the chickadees, these guys generally get their meals to go, darting off to a nearby tree to split open the seeds or, in this case, get the Heimlich Maneuver from a loved one. They rarely stay for more than five seconds or so, unlike the juncos, who seem to eat until they risk falling over and rolling off of the feeder into the bushes. Actually, the juncos spend a lot of time in the undergrowth, anyway, ground feeding. I’ll walk out to replenish the feeder, thinking all is quiet, and several juncos will flee from the underbrush.


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## paws

*Variety: The Spice of Life*

So I put out a nice variety of potential foodstuffs: Sunflower seeds, mixed bird seed, safflower seeds, muffins, bread, peanut chunks, and so forth. Soon there was a thriving population of the three bird types, becoming more thriving as what I thought was a fourth type showed up. It turned out that female juncos look radically different from the males. Yes, there was a lot of he’in and she’in going on out there.


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## paws

*Hey - This One Doesn't Have Wings!*

And the foodstuffs seemed to disappear alarmingly rapidly. One day I looked out and saw the culprit.


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## paws

*Norman*

Yes, the squirrel is a cute little guy, and he really doesn’t eat that much, and he seems to be basically friendless. He disappeared for a few days and I was sure he was going to spread the news of the magic seeds, but no one apparently believed him. And slowly I began to realize why. This guy is a loony psycho. Dubbed “Norman” (think “Bates Motel”) by Shi, he seems to be seriously hooked on toadstools. I’ve found big toadstools five feet up in trees, stashed for future abuse. These fungi may be worth sampling based on the results. One day when I drove in in my relatively soundproof old Eldorado I heard a heck of a ruckus up in the spruce tree (little birdie central). There was a chirping noise and a lot of squirrel "barking". I feared that the drug crazed thing was beating up a bird. No - the chirping was also the squirrel! He was frantically running around inside the tree yelling at the top of his lungs. This went on for the better part of half an hour! As I sat outside and took in the show, I noted that the feeder was business as usual: The birds could care less about the psycho squirrel, as long as he was not on the feeder. Well, almost: I spotted several chickadees perched on branches, apparently as fascinated as I was.

But sometimes lunacy pays off. I was upstairs one day thinking about being hard at work on my home when I heard him barking and chirping madly again. Well, my accusations of drug abuse may have been premature. I looked out to see him once again in the spruce, and, at the base of the tree, a cream colored dog. Norman was definitely giving it a piece of his mind. His screaming suddenly reached a crescendo that was apparently so impressive to a canine's ears that the dog actually fled down the driveway. Pretty heady stuff for a squirrel. On the other hand, this particular dog seems to be scared of his own shadow, but let's not spoil the Norman's moment.

His moment, though, didn't seem too be that great. Maybe what means, "Don't make me come down there and kick your mangy butt," in dog-speak, actually means, "Oh, God! Please don't let this monster climb up in this tree after me! Oh, my! I think I've soiled myself!" in squirrel jargon. Long after the dog had left the little guy was still screaming and struggling to get as high in a tree as possible, alternating between the spruce and the neighboring birch. Really bizarre.

My only gripe with Norman is that he hogs the feeder. Generally the birds won’t land on it when he is there, severely hallucinating or not. I’ve never seen him go after a little guy (“little” being important here… stay tuned!), but I think that the nervous twitching scares them off. The notable exceptions are the nuthatches, who dart in and out showing great bravery, or perhaps a terrible lack of awareness. 

Yes, one big happy ecosystem. Occasionally a pair of juncos will go at it - flying straight up about six feet, facing each other just an inch or two apart, "peeping" (for lack of a better description of their call) away madly. It looks for all the world like one of those modern martial arts/whatever movies, e.g., The Matrix, where the fighters appear to defy gravity. Except that these guys aren't suspended from wires.


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## paws

*Trouble in Paradise*

And now comes trouble. A couple pairs of magpies have shown up. Not a real problem for the little guys – they just stay clear, probably worried they’ll get clobbered by those ridiculously long tails – but Norman has a REAL issue with them. He’ll chase these things – which dwarf him – all over the yard. They’ll flutter just out of reach, then, when he darts after one, it will flutter right over him back to where it started. This can keep up for minutes on end. I’m fairly convinced that, while the magpies certainly like “his” food, there is a great entertainment value here as well. Once I watched him chase a particularly troublesome bird for several minutes, eventually stopping, probably to catch his breath. The magpie then fluttered back closer to him, yelling taunts. Then the chase was back on.

The magpies are wonderfully human at times. One was perched on a board an inch off the ground when a little seed must have really caught his eye. He struggled for maybe thirty seconds trying to get the thing without actually hopping off the board, then finally gave up and jumped down to get it. You know how you realize that you could just expend a little energy and a problem would be solved, but you also just know that, with one more attempt at the lazy method, you'll get it?

Another time I watched one pick up a piece of bread. He sort of chewed it a bit, then grabbed another. And another. And another. Eventually he was holding five bread chunks and was ready to leave. Then he spotted a particularly tasty looking seed, so down went the bread. He gulped down the seed, then painstakingly reloaded his mouth with the bread and departed. It was like me in a grocery store: I rarely get a basket, because I'm only getting a couple of things. Right. Next thing I know I'm wandering around absolutely loaded with stuff, and one more thing catches my eye. But I have no free hands. So every thing has to be put down, the new item secured, then the loading begins anew.

I of course looked up magpies on the web and found some great trivia. Magpies, who always seem eager to find something to yell about, have a bizarre death ritual. According to Cornell, "Magpies flock around dead magpies (called "gatherings"). The magpie that finds the dead bird may begin calling excitedly. Other magpies are attracted and perch in trees or other nearby structures, calling loudly. Up to 40 birds might gather within minutes after a dead magpie is spotted. Some magpies fly down 1 or 2 at a time and walk around the body calling loudly, often pecking at the wings or tail."

Notice that in just a few lines there were three references to yelling birds. And it doesn't end there. There is the fighting thing: "After failure to establish dominance relationships with vocal and visual signals, individuals sometimes jump into air in attempt to kick each other. May lock feet; then the more dominant bird stands over the more submissive one, which lies on its back. Amid much excited calling, dominant bird repeatedly and violently jabs with its bill at chest of submissive bird. Commotion attracts any nearby magpies, which stand around calling loudly. Often a bystander pulls tail of dominant bird, which causes it to turn around, often freeing the downed bird before it is harmed."

More yelling references. These guys live to yell. I looked at the lower feeder camera (I have my own “Bird Feeder Channels” on TV) and there was a magpie furiously stuffing his beak, obviously trying to make the best of the time before Norman caught him. The problem was that, even with is mouth full, he would scream at the top of his lungs every few seconds. Not the stealthiest of the species. Still, he seemed to fill himself and left before anything bad (like a squirrel) happened. Maybe that screaming was, "You still got him? Hold his ass down! I just need a few more mouthfuls!"

They mate for life, but as in any marriage, there are apparently squabbles – see picture.


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## paws

*The Stately Visit*

Labor Day: Summer was over, and I was trapped in my building (I can’t really call it a house) by the Alaskan State Bird, the Willow Ptarmigan (“Grouse” to most non-U.S. folks – “Grouse” must be Metric). This was the second day in a row that this guy wandered up my driveway. No, I didn't really fear for my life, but I wanted to go to the store but didn't want to scare him off. There may be severe penalties for traumatizing the State Bird. So I decided to wait it out, and found that a ptarmigan moves just fast enough to avoid a glacier, probably a trait developed through natural selection after thousands of their ancestors were brutally run over during the last ice age. So I got a lot of pictures.

The ptarmigan hung around for a few days, possibly camping in a corner of my yard. The vast majority of the yard is thick with trees and underbrush where no human has tread since the last ptarmigan-glacier tragedy, so I really don't have a clue what might be in there. Maybe Jimmy Hoffa. But on both days he/she (the ptarmigan - I'm pretty sure Hoffa was a dude) disappeared into the same general area, so I figured there was some camping going on. Maybe there are dozens of them, and this one is the scout, checking for glaciers.

While I never actually heard that they were flightless, I vaguely assumed that they were. For one thing, in survival school we were taught to string fishing net (why, yes - we all carry fishing net wherever we go - there are fishing net check rooms at the opera and all fine restaurants) along the ground, maybe up to three feet high, and then herd ptarmigans into it. For another, let's face it: They look like rugby balls with big feet.

I'm glad I did not vocalize this non-aviating avian opinion. I ventured into the putative ptarmigan camping area one day after seeing a large brown bird fly into it, apparently landing up in a tree - I could vaguely narrow down the area based on my last sighting. I was a little worried that it was a raptor of some sort, perhaps a hawk, and this could bode ill for my little guys standing exposed on the feeder. Eventually I spotted a suspicious bump in a spruce tree. There, seriously stressing a small limb, was the ptarmigan.

The next day it landed in the Little Birdie Central Spruce Tree. Wow! What a racket! Chickadees were yelling about it for about ten minutes. I'm not sure what they were yelling about it - they were still in the tree, some very close to the ptarmigan, and continued fluttering down and back to get food, but they certainly were speaking their minds. I guess that's what you get for having a large vocabulary that includes terms such as "rugby ball", "stuck", and "tree".

Frankly, it's a little scary that something that large and humorously un-aerodynamic looking can fly. I, for one, would be leery of one passing over me, partially for fear that the laws of physics will suddenly be enforced, but largely because I'm now highly experienced in pigeon poop, and these things dwarf pigeons.

Read the Internet, get more scared: Maybe I should be scared of these things. One citation mentioned that, unlike other ptarmigan/grouse, "...the male Willow Grouse often takes responsibility of the young by staunchly defending his territory and his young. Males have even been documented to have attacked a Grizzly Bear and will attack humans who distract their young."

The good news is that there were no young obviously present, and the visitor was a female, but one must still be a bit apprehensive of a killer rugby ball. Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail showed that even rabbits can be very dangerous, and they can't fall on you from the sky like these things can. And I don't have a Holy Hand Grenade.


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## paws

*Seasonal Changes*

With the change of seasons the juncos headed home – wherever that is – and everyone settled in for the dreaded winter: Desperately trying to grow more down (chickadees & nuthatches), madly stashing bread and nuts (Norman), and yelling a lot (magpies). I decided to move the lower feeder into the lee of the building (our winds are remarkably regular in direction) since we get 70 – 90 mile an hour winter winds, and I’ll be darned if I’m buying seeds that end up in someone else’s yard, especially someone who might live in British Columbia, or perhaps Peru. 

I'd make a great marketer - always worried that my loyal customer base will defect. So I only moved it about fifteen feet at a time, trying to creep it slowly towards the building. I also screwed a couple little bowls (well, water jug bottoms) onto the plank to hold some seeds in an effort to thwart the wind. Finally, I put a sawhorse where the feeder had been with a few seeds on it for the really dumb birds. Frankly, I don't know why I worried so much: I'm sure a nuthatch would find the new location and announce it loudly to all that cared. "flutter flutter peep flutter flutter peep flutter THUD. PEEP! What the heck is this? It wasn't here yesterday!"

Unintentional humorous side-effect: Since the feeder was now out of my line of sight, as well as the wind, I set up another surveillance camera to monitor it. At one point as I watched, the camera started shaking like in an earthquake. Sort of odd, as thirty feet away I wasn't feeling anything. Then Norman ran into view from the bottom of the picture. "Hmm... What's this thing on a tripod? I bet there are seeds atop it somewhere!"

The cameras catch some strange sights. My upper one caught a floating magpie. The other photos looked absolutely normal, so it’s not some camera problem. I'm guessing that he was hopping from the feeder to the railing where the third magpie was sitting (you can just see his tail). Still, pretty weird. If I were jumping over a twenty foot drop, I'd at least have my wings partially deployed. But maybe that is "chicken".

The photos are rather fuzzy, but huge: This shot isn't cropped - that's the full picture. The camera is a mere foot or two from the feeder. Even nuthatches look huge on my TV set. I don't need no steenking windows!

The suet feeder at the top right is popular with everyone but the magpies, who doubtless have come to grief in the past trying to hang from those things. The weirdest are the nuthatches, who regularly eat head-down (remember - these guys walk face-first down tree trunks). It just seems like swallowing would be a real pain, especially semi-gooey suet. They seem to solve the problem by bending their necks backwards so their heads and throats are almost horizontal – staring at the camera.


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## paws

*Fun With Norman 1*

My bird interactions have been limited to being used as a landing pad and providing seeds, nuts, bread, suet, and anything else I think their little hearts want. They flee when I get within five feet of them. On the brighter side, they don’t actually beak me like the squabs did, so I figure in another few hundred years we’ll be best of friends.

Norman, on the other hand, is an ongoing friendship effort.

Phase one: He found a way to the upstairs feeder that involved entering through a small hole in the building, scampering thirty feet to the side wall, shimmying up sixteen feet of wall stud, and darting across a floor joist to the attic. Then he reversed the procedure. Two problems: First, shimmying down the wall stud seemed more dodgy than shimmying up it, and usually resulted in an inglorious thud as he plummeted the last five feet or so onto a desk there (yes, a humane person would have put a mattress down for him, but I sort of enjoyed the thud as much as he dreaded it). Second, there always seemed to be some jerk in a bathrobe waiting for him after he recovered from the skydive and scampered for the little hole. It was almost like the guy had a motion detector at the hole to let him know when he entered!

So I would stand there and wait. Norman, apparently fixated on that particular route - the severe blows to the head alighting on the desk probably didn't help - had no choice but to scamper past me, dodging little chunks of bread that seemed to fall from the sky, adding insult to injury. Once he actually picked one up, perhaps because he literally collided with it (good shot!).

My friendship entreaties largely fell on deaf (and perhaps severely bruised) ears, but I wasn't giving up. There was hope - he didn't actually run past me at full speed (perhaps because he had to slow down to avoid hitting that mysterious electronic thing by the hole), and even if it were a lost cause, I just knew this was driving his little mind nuts. "How the hell?..."


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## paws

*Fun With Norman 2*

Phase Two: Norman began spending more time upstairs on each visit, leaving his benefactor standing in a bathrobe in sub-freezing temperatures while he selected just the right nuts and seeds. So I began going upstairs to meet him there. I’d watch him shimmy up the stud, then dash out of the trailer (I live in a travel trailer in my unfinished shop/home) and up the stairs. Then came the slow creep down the attic, speaking soothingly to keep him at ease, not realizing that my soothing tones and little clicking noises probably translated into vile death threats in squirrel-speak. At first I could get within maybe ten feet before he panicked. So I’d stop eleven feet away and throw bread balls at him. He would grab one and scuttle away across the joist, down the wall, out the hole, etc. As soon as he was out of the attic (so I wouldn't panic him further) I’d dash to the railing, which is directly above his little hole. Then, as he scooted out, I’d bomb him with additional bread balls, each of which had to be at least briefly investigated before he dashed for home. He seemed to have a good memory, though - I could watch him on the security cameras as he came back to collect them.

Progress was definitely being made, though. After a while I found that I could just stand still or squat and, after he had eaten his fill of the nuts and seeds, he’d nervously creep my way, obviously expecting the bread ball dessert. He’d come within maybe three feet. The problem then was how to toss the bread without terrifying him with sudden movements. I worked on shooting them marble-style, but learned that I could never make a career in the pro-marble circuit.

One of the more bizarre moments was when he didn't go straight for the climbing wall after coming through the hole. I watched out the window and waited. And waited. Finally, I went out to look for him. Part of all this activity was to ensure that he engaged in safe practices, i.e., things that won't get him shot after I find my garbage strewn about. I looked around a bit, although admittedly there were hundreds of places for him to explore, and finally thought that he might have climbed the wall unnoticed. So I went upstairs. I slowly walked the length of the attic, but no Norman anywhere. Then I turned to see him dart up the stairs. "Hey! Wait for me! Where's my bread ball?"

He must have been downstairs checking out some little nook when he saw me go upstairs. He knows his meal ticket.

With our snow I managed to follow him home. As I suspected, he lives in the meth lab. What do you expect from a mushroom eating druggie? Yes, I have a meth lab. Well, at least a meth lab wannabe. Almost four years ago, soon after I bought the property, my neighbor and I went into the woods and built the most basic storage shed you can get: Four feet by eight feet by eight feet tall. Considering that OSB (budget plywood) comes in four by eight foot sheets, you can see where those dimensions came from. It is just a big box - no doors, no floor. About a week after this thing was built there was a bit on the news about drugs. Apparently one method of cooking meth is to build a box in the woods, say four by eight feet, set up the gear in it, fire it up, and leave until the process is done: Less exposure to possible raids, less chance of running about in flames when the process goes horribly wrong.

By the way, the police chief lived across the street from me.

I followed the Norman Trail (a one-Norman wide canyon in the snow) to the box. He crawls under a side to get in. As the box is showing its age (hey - this was interior OSB) I could peer through where one end is a little open and see that he has trashed a mattress that is in there (no big loss as it was already pretty bad - I just never throw stuff away), but I couldn't see what other horrors he has wrought. Probably not many, as the vast majority of the stuff I put in there was steel or hard plastic. But there was one interesting thing: There was some quiet chirping in there. Now, Norman makes a wonderful assortment of noises, all of which roughly translate to "Where's my bread ball?" or "You touch my bread ball and I'll kick your magpie butt across the yard", but these chirps sounded mighty small. Norman may be Norma, and there may be mini-Normans in there. I'd be a bit surprised, as it would seem odd for animals without central heating to procreate in the winter, but my interest is piqued. Sometime when Norman is waiting for me up in the attic I think I'll break into the meth lab to investigate. I don't want to do it while he is around, as I can see traumatizing him/her and getting stuck bottle feeding a litter of baby squirrels. I guess it's better than having to puke down their throats.


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## paws

*Fun With Norman 3*

He found another way upstairs - climbing the outside "water main" (a garden hose wrapped in foam insulation), so I only know he is there when I see him on the TV or, more often, hear the rather ungraceful "thump" he makes jumping off the railing onto the floor. In his defense, the floor is, at this point, just a single thickness of OSB, so I'm surprised I don't hear the sunflower seeds fall when the magpies get wild and crazy.

My wellness activity - dashing up two floors to deliver bread balls - is losing some of its effectiveness. One time I saw Norman scoot up the outside of the building, so I grabbed my bread and headed up the stairs. He met me halfway down the flight from the attic to the mezzanine after climbing two stories of garden hose and running the sixty feet of attic. Maybe I'll just take my time from now on and he'll eventually meet me at the trailer door.

I think he may be visually impaired. Our first real contact was interesting: The little jerk bit me! Twice! Well, not really bit, but nipped. Note to self: Quit rolling bread balls the size of your fingertips. The first time I managed to actually give him a bread ball in my hand, he aimed a little low and I felt his tiny lower teeth briefly grip the thumb below. Okay - that could have been just bad aim. But a couple times later I held the bread on my extended fingertips. He seemed particularly skittish, so I let it roll onto the floor. Norman apparently did not see this (from six inches away) and finally garnered the nerve to grab the "bread ball", which turned out to be the tip of my middle finger. Hey - it was in the shadows, it was round, it was bread ball-sized, and there had definitely been a bread ball there seconds before! Just a very light grip-and-pull, then I was saved when he spotted the real bread ball out of the corner of his eye. That would have been a wild ride down the garden hose.

But we are becoming good buddies, as long as I have bread, and as long as the feeder has no bread or peanuts. Otherwise it's a marketing battle: Me making exciting clicking noises and whimsical "Norman" calls, the feeder boasting that bread and peanuts there don't have to be wrenched out of someone's hand.

He's getting very comfortable with the hand thing, though, rarely even hesitating: He just darts up and grabs - usually the bread ball, but again one afternoon he tried to run off with my thumb. So far no skin breakage - it feels more like a snag than a bite - so I 'm not sweating the rabies thing, but it is in the back of my mind.

That day's other high drama was an errant bread toss. Norman only follows one route between the feeders and his meth lab, I suspect partially because some of it is "tunnels" - under some construction materials, a car, and a boat - which is probably an instinct to avoid hawks, eagles, or really big falling bread balls. The problem was that this route took him right alongside the building, at the far side of a maybe four foot wide strip of foot-deep snow from me (I was standing on a shoveled area). In my heart I knew that Norman could hop through there, but there was this constant drip of melting snow off the eaves, and who would want the little guy to get wet? So I lobbed a bread ball towards him. It fell well short as I hadn't wanted to make a violent move in the toss. Norman may or may not have realized what had happened: Remember - attention to detail and visual acuity are not his strong points. At any rate, he just stood there twitching. Being fresh out of bread balls, I decided to try to find it. This involved rummaging in the snow pretty much right where all the water was dripping, and perilously close to the increasingly excited and confused Norman. Just what the heck he thought was going on will remain forever unclear, no doubt especially to him, but he began frantically jumping around my hand, then jumping back as it emerged from the snow each time. I finally found the morsel and handed it to him. Wow! A bread-flavor snow cone! What a treat! Then, with his usual total lack of gratitude, he darted off to store it in his "Strange Spherical Objects the Big Thing Keeps Giving Me" cabinet.

We're a long way from holding and petting, but he doesn't seem to view me as a huge threat anymore, sometimes coming over when called. I now never go outside or upstairs without my little pill bottle with a couple bread balls in it.


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## paws

*In Closing*

Okay, this seems to have gone on way too long. When did I find time to write all these messages? Oh, yeah – when I should have been working on my home, solving global warming, or chopping nuts for The Guys. I am now chopping peanuts for the masses. I can't find diced nuts locally, and I've found that they are the Universal Food. Everyone loves them. The magpies and Norman can handle the whole Spanish peanuts, but the little guys can't (despite nuthatches great efforts), so I have a five dollar nut chopper thing that I use nightly, and have worn out in two weeks. Oh! But to see the joy in their eyes! Sure... The magpies always look a bit surly and the chickadees and nuthatches always look frantic. Ah, but Norman is a happy, if a bit deranged, looking little guy. The best moment is when I go upstairs with his bread ball. He'll quickly finish snacking at the feeder (if he was there at all), hide all the seeds with a few expert swipes of his paws (ha!), and come scurrying my way. He looks genuinely excited to see me, sometimes running almost the length of the attic. The hard truth is that squirrels rarely walk anywhere - they scurry. It must be something about the way they are built. But he looks so happy!

An arty looking photo: A nuthatch darts for cover as a junco (top) flares for a landing.


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## Whitefeather

*THANK YOU* so much for '*finally*' getting these stories posted.  
I need to set aside some quality time to read each one but I did take a peek at all the pictures & they are *wonderful*.  

Cindy


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## mr squeaks

At this time, one comment...



*YAAAAHOOOOO!!!*

Shi


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## Maggie-NC

Jim, I have to tell you that Shi had told me she was trying to get you to post about your birds and squirrels. Well, it was worth the wait. I can't think of when I have been so entertained. You are a great story teller.

Nuthatches are one of my favorite birds. They are so tiny and also so curious at everything going on around them. My rehabber friend has raised several from babies (and, talk about being tiny - about the size of a peanut) and they seem to bond rather quickly with a human. I was at her home one day and she had released 3 in her back yard. We had to continually watch where we stepped because they liked to run around on the ground - around our feet. She keeps meal worms in a container in her garage and the little devils would go in there and help themselves whenever the door was open. They would sit on her shoulder and generally entertain us. Very cute little guys.

Loved your stories about Norman. Have you tried hanging a long rope from the 2nd floor to the ground and let him climb that up to the feeding station? When my husband worked with the fire department, one of the stations had a second floor and they had squirrels that would climb a rope to get to the feeder.

Wonderful reading! It is always so nice to hear from you.


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## paws

*Norman's "Rope"*

After the rather circuitous system of holes, wall studs, joists, and guys in bathrobes, he found the insulated hose - sort of a jumbo "rope" and really likes it. The foam must give his little paws something to grip. His nocturnal counterpart, Creature of the Night, uses a far hairier technique: He climbs a nearby tree, then leaps a dozen feet or so over a twenty foot drop to the roof, climbs down the vertical trim at the edge of the roof ("fascia?"), then leaps inwards towards the railing six feet below while doing a 180 snap roll to land feet first. And he'll even do this in the high winds! I'm desperately trying to get this on video with the infrared camera, but so far no luck: I've seen him do it twice on the TV, but didn't have the computer on for the "capture".

He's easy to spot: A bright white spot scooting up the tree branch - his eye reflecting the infrared beam. I thought I was in luck a few nights ago. I flipped on the TV and there was the telltale white spot on the tree limb as he got up the nerve for the Big Jump. So I madly fired up the computer to get ready for the capture. Then I waited. And waited. After a while I noted that he wasn't blinking - the white spot normally turns off briefly every so often. Still I waited - it was like a staring contest with a cat. Perhaps a stuffed cat. I began to get an idea. I went upstairs to look and, sure enough, some thoughtless jerk half a mile away has a small porch light directly in line with the tree! I'm getting a BB gun!

I wish we had friendly nuthatches, but maybe they don't see enough humans. Or maybe they see too many - me. One summer day day was a good example: Nuthatches came calling and didn't even say hello to me. I was working up on the mezzanine inside the shop when a nuthatch darted into the shop through the garage door. He landed on a box, pecked at it a bit, then flew back out. Less than a minute later he (I'm assuming this was the same one) came back to the same box and pecked a bit more. On his third visit he landed atop the trailer and briefly pecked at the edge of the roof, where now nearly petrified leaves accumulated when I was living outside. He did this a second time. My best guess is that he's hiding food, although I couldn't find any on or in the box. He seemed to head right towards the feeder when he flew out (I couldn't see exactly where he went), and was back almost instantly. Instinct must tell them to start stockpiling before the snow covers all their food.

Later he or one of his friends actually flew up to the mezzanine and explored a bit, possibly not aware that I was a few feet away. He landed on a couple walls, a sawhorse, and various other terrain features. When he finally left he almost collided with me and "peeped" and swerved at the last instant. Then I made a scientific discovery: Nuthatches reproduce via mitosis! How do I know this? Because one nuthatch flew into the mezzanine, and two flew out! A few seconds after he fled a second one leapt off a light unit and flew to follow him. I have no idea where he came from. Maybe down the stairs from the attic. But as far as I'm concerned, it was mitosis. Sort of like an amoeba splitting into two, but louder.

In the summer I had juvenile juncos hop in and explore, usually in pairs or more. At first I thought they were smart little guys - I, too, keep the food in the garage, but no, they just hopped here and there, then hopped back out. Kids!

My sister opined that, "...the birds view the house as a cave." Either that or all that excited chickadee and nuthatch talk basically means, "Come and see the freakin' nest this idiot is building!"


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## mr squeaks

For those of you not familiar with Paws and his stories, search for his previous threads...

He first came to our site seeking information about pigeons in a hilarious saga called "Soggy Nest." I have never been the same since! Love his pictures and his picture in another thread about the Galapagos, showing the Bluefooted Booby, is just beautiful! 

As most of you know, I am a laughter fanatic! The more laughter in my life, the better! Thanks, mainly, to Pidgey, Pigeonmamma, Alvin, Paws and Ryannon, I am now passing that "trait" on to Squeaks....yes, indeed, folks, pigeons CAN and DO laugh!

How did I find this out? While reading a particularly hilarious post, I'm laughing so hard, tears are running down my face! When I begin to calm down, I'm aware of Squeaks making the strangest noise. I swear it sounds like he's laughing! I just shrugged it off _until_ my next laughing fit and I hear the same sound...again! 

Why am I not surprised? If I can dance with my pigeon, I can laugh with my pigeon! AND, as we have seen many times, our members have wonderful tales to tell about their favorite birds and other pets!

Again, THANKS, Jim...I DO hope that Norman isn't a _Norma_...Mmmm, come to think about it, being a female _could_ explain some behavior, e.g. frequent and obsessional food gathering, yelling (PMS?), getting to know you better...  

Shi & Squeaks


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## paws

*The Boobie Blues*

I'm afraid I had to sack my previous threads' photos to make room for more.. something about that draconian size limitation. I can repost if necessary.


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## mr squeaks

paws said:


> I'm afraid I had to sack my previous threads' photos to make room for more.. something about that draconian size limitation. I can repost if necessary.



Oh darn! 

The Booby and Frigate bird pictures were quite lovely...

Shi


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## Feather

That is quite an adventure! I didn't want it to end. Only thing...I just can't make up my mind who is the real psycho in these chapters. Doesn't matter...I feel as though I have hopped on the trip. What a ride!

Thanks so much...I wondered what was going to take the place of "Dancing with the Stars". Now I know.


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## mr squeaks

Feather said:


> That is quite an adventure! I didn't want it to end. Only thing...I just can't make up my mind who is the real psycho in these chapters. Doesn't matter...I feel as though I have hopped on the trip. What a ride!
> 
> Thanks so much...I wondered what was going to take the place of "Dancing with the Stars". Now I know.



FEATHER! How fun to see my favorite (AND Squeaks') SPP partner!!

Can't wait to see if Norman is REALLY a _Norma_. I'm sure Paws will let us know!

The "real" psycho???? ROFL     

Shi


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## paws

*Psycho?*

Hey - not everyone who lives in a travel trailer and wanders around in the winter in a ratty bathrobe and fleece slippers is deranged! That's terribly stereotypical!

Speaking of lunacy, we had hurricane force winds the last couple of days and the little guys were still visiting the feeder, albeit in reduced numbers. I'm not sure what the top speed of a chickadee is, but I bet it isn't impressive. Think of the finesse required to reach the feeder between gusts! I wonder how many birdies ended up holed up somewhere downwind, waiting for it to die so they could make it back home.

Even once they made it to the feeder they weren't really safe: A gust of wind removed the black plastic tray I had there. I noted that things looked a lot lighter on the TV, so I went up for damage control. As I approached the feeder with some replacement seeds I found a nuthatch there, and he didn't look well: Sort of resting on his belly and bloated. I waited forever, then decided to creep in to deliver the seeds. Finally, when my hand was maybe five inches away he jumped up and flew off normally. I felt kind of bad: I'm sure he was just fluffed up and hunkered down from the cold (six degrees F) and wind, finally having found the perfect spot. Now he's probably just north of Seattle, waiting for the wind to die.


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## Dezirrae

Fantastic stories and pictures Paws  I'm still quite a newbie on this site and am soooo glad you posted these stories and photos. If ever someone should put together their own blog/web page - it's you! Just think - no limitation on photos  In fact, I think a book would be an even better way to convey your stories. You truly have a wonderful ability to convey to the reader what you see and experience in a delightful way -- I look forward to lots more of these stories!!

Hope you are able to stay warm - maybe a double robe for this time of year


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## Margarret

Jim,

Thanks for adding the additional stories. I totally enjoyed them.

Margaret


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## Maggie-NC

Jim, I'm glad the little nuthatch was just resting and not sick.

Several years ago we had one of our rare "noreasters" blow through and got an enormous amount of snow. I looked out a bathroom window and there were at least 12 little brown birds sitting on the sill, fluffed out and huddled together for warmth. They were sitting on the snow but apparently the window gave them a wind break. Never could identify what kind they were but I have never forgotten how sad they looked and there was nothing I could do to warm them up.


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## CHRISTIN RN

Paws, 
Absolutely Wonderful! Started the thread last evening before bed and finished this evening! Great pics as well! Get this copyrighted and published asap!!!

Thanks so much, Shi, for directing me to the thread! A most enjoyable, humorous and relaxing read while in bed recovering from a tooth extraction gone bad! Much better today!

Holiday Blessings to All!


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## Feather

paws said:


> Hey - not everyone who lives in a travel trailer and wanders around in the winter in a ratty bathrobe and fleece slippers is deranged! That's terribly stereotypical!
> 
> Thats good to know...Where does Norman find those tiny lil fleese slippers to fit him?
> 
> I am not one to sterio type anyone...why there is a lady around here who some say runs down the middle of the street, screaming and chasing the hawks away..not only with her clothes on inside out but on backwards as well, and wearing her husbands shoes. Of coarse...I can make perfect sense to that behavior.
> 
> Maggie,
> I know it broke your heart to see those lil birdies. I am glad that I live in CA. so that I don't have to witness any creature during a rough winter.
> 
> Christin,
> I thought book as well. Maybe if Shi and Squeaks keep after Paws enough he will consider it.
> 
> Shi, If that cutie is a Norma, you will have to send home a plush pink bathrobe and slippers. For some reason I have this vision of Paws running around in the snow with them on.


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## paws

*Bad tooth extraction?*

Good to know that every time Christin gets a toothache in the future, she will think of this thread. Sort of like giving a gift of toilet paper. "Think of me when you..."

"..._there is a lady around here who some say runs down the middle of the street_.." I'm seeing my parents this month. I'll tell Mom to turn the robe back the right way.

I'm seriously considering some sort of heater. Yes, I know it is silly, but that nuthatch looked so miserable. If nothing else, a light bulb aimed at the suet. Do you know what suet is like at sub-zero temperatures?

Of course, if the heater thing worked, there would be issues. Would I need separate areas for the various groups? Or would the "lion lie down with the lamb?" Isn't that just _wrong_? And what of the other creatures? When the first moose shimmies twenty feet up the garden hose, do I have to get a bigger heater?


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## mr squeaks

Oh, My! I don't know if I'm gonna be able to survive this thread! Can laughing too hard give one a heart attack? A Stroke? Anything else that could lead to paralysis? Death? 

You guys are soooo funny! See, Paws...told ya, you had a fan club and more growing every day! 

Although he hasn't said so, I know Paws is not interested in doing a book. He's much too busy building his cave and keeping tabs on the wildlife! AND, becoming popular means PEOPLE FANS who may want his autograph! HEAVENS FORBID! NO WAY! One of these days, IF I ever get a printer, I will be able to save for posterity! 

I can just see Norman running around in little pink slippers! Mmm, come to think of it, Paws better be careful of TOO warm a robe...he may have company up close and personal of the feathered and 4 legged furry kind!  

I can see it now...birdies perched around watching him on the computer while Norman and his family(?) are munching bread balls nearby!

A MOOSE? Now THAT would be a trip!

I do look forward to hearing more about the "rugby balls" with feet!  

Shi & Squeaks


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## Feather

If mooses, meeses, or moose plural are in the mix, I would suggest a bigger nuthatch. Can you imagine the size of those bread balls? I can't even bare to think of the littler box.


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## mr squeaks

Feather said:


> If mooses, meeses, or moose plural are in the mix, I would suggest a bigger nuthatch. Can you imagine the size of those bread balls? I can't even bare to think of the littler box.



Yeah, Feather...Paws would have a house full....   

Does give a whole new meaning to "living in the wilds," eh???

Shi


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## Feather

You know...I don't think I have even seen a real moose. Bulwinkle is about as close as I have come to a real moose.


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## paws

*Moose Proximity*

Bullwinkle is about as close as you might want to get to a moose. Unpredictable guys. I was once trapped in an outhouse for twenty minutes by a cow and calf ("Never mess with a cow with calf" is a local saying). It was about forty below in Fairbanks, and one generally doesn't dress terribly warmly for the walk to the potty: Somehow cold arms and hands are not the major worry at that point.

They weren't threatening, just between me and my front door.

The Creature of the Night mystery may have some telling clues. This guy has been a major puzzle to me. The thing is that almost all squirrels are diurnal, yet this guy shows up at night. Finally last night I put the "Creature of the Night Detection Device" (which looks a lot like that thing Norman found beside his entry home a while back) up at the top feeder. Then I left the computer on and went to bed. Sure enough, around five in the morning the alarm went off, so I leapt from bed and hit the "capture key" (Ah! The joys of living in a tiny trailer!). Turning on the monitor I saw... nothing. Crap! False alarm! So I turned off the computer capture program and watched to video to see what caused the error. And there, for 3.5 seconds at the very start of the video, was Creature of the Night. I think he's not wild about the outside light that I installed: It also shines on the feeder, sort of a bummer for a nocturnal rodent, so he just grabbed and dashed.

A nocturnal rodent? What ever happened to diurnal squirrels? Well, _most_ are diurnal. Notable exception: The flying squirrel. Here are some really bad video captures, and a shot of a flying squirrel I found on, of all places, a U.S. Army website (what the...???). Look at the big eyes. Look at the loose skin on the side view. His tail - not visible in my pictures, looks similar, too: Thicker and more plush than Norman's light and airy one (the flier uses it as an air brake). Also, as he ran, his front legs looked a little "full" - and the flier's kite-like wing attaches there.


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## paws

*What? Only Three Photos Per Post???*

Okay, here's the Army Standard Squirrel, Flying:


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## mr squeaks

Awww, a shy squirrel! He(?) doesn't look like Norman...then again, maybe it was just the 3.5 seconds of his debut!

Name suggestion: Connor (Creature Of the Night...or not... )

Maybe this is the MOM and she can only get away from the kids at night!

Could it be Norman??? Nah...don't think so...Norman DOES fly...he just does it the hard way...no "flaps!" Think it's called leaping or jumping... 

Can't wait to hear what the sounds are coming from the...ah...shed... 

Shi

Almost looks like a packrat or something like that...are they nocturnal???


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## Feather

What an adorable little critter. He reminded me of a Chinchilla. I like the name Connor Shi. Lets see if Paws will honor him with that name. Although it could be a Connie...and it was her young that was churping and sqeaking.

Very interesting...lets see what the critter detective comes up with.


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## paws

*More Creature*

In one of those ironic moments, last night I was soldering together a gizmo that would start the computer recording as soon as the Creature Detector was triggered. Of course, my electronics workbench is also the computer table, the dining room table, the stuff-I-need-close-at-hand table, and so forth. So there I was, soldering gun in hand, when something moved on the computer screen. Yes, another grab-and-dash. I couldn't even reach the mouse in time to click "Record". But things improved. A few minutes later it was back, so I almost burned the cr*p out of myself going for the mouse again. I must have hit "Record" in about one second. And then the little creep sat there eating for over ten minutes. Hurry up and wait! So I now have a huge freakin' file that will barely even fit on a CD.

And there was an encore! The second one was sort of funny. Not the video itself, but the circumstances. I was on the phone with my neighbor at around 1 AM. We were sorting out some issues with the video feed I have running over to his place - so he can glance around my place when I'm gone. No, this is not necessary, but he is sort of an overly cautious sort. Besides, this time he can use it to see when additional seeds and nuts are needed. At any rate, we had sorted that stuff out and were rambling on about something or other when suddenly I butted in, "Quick! Hit channel 72!" And, on his 40" widescreen, no less, he got to examine Creature of the Night. There was just something weird about it - normally this would be a football game, a news show or the like, with friends exchanging views on, say, a dropped pass or hurricane damage. It was easy to forget that this "news event" was taking place twenty feet from me.

We also discussed that silly concept of night flying squirrels. Some people see the order of the Universe as proof of God. If I were looking, I'd see his sense of humor, or possibly outright sadism as proof in this case.

But if you were leaping off over the abyss, supported only by what looks like extra skin left over after a year on Weight Watchers, would you really want to see the bottom of the Grand Canyon? Out of sight, out of mind. Of course, seeing your landing point in fairly important, but maybe they just glide until they hit something, then grab on and sort things out from there. "Where am I? What's that loud noise? Christ, it's windy! What does 'The captain has turned off the seatbelt sign, so you are now free to move about the cabin' mean?"

On the brighter side, there are few tree removal services running their brush choppers at night.

I'd say I'm 90% positive it's a flying squirrel. In the videos you can vaguely see the extra skin that turns into the "wing". My sister opined that it's the Sharpei dog of the squirrel world. And it does look a lot like a chinchilla, but with smaller ears and bigger eyes.

I'm open to any name. I use "Creature of the Night" in honor of a 1975 cult movie featuring a "sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania." Yeah, just when they were getting over the Dracula thing...


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## Maggie-NC

Jim, looks like a flying squirrel to me to based on comparing it with the military photo of one. Never saw one live and in person. I think, though, that they do glide rather than fly.

This link is from Wikipedia and it says they are nocturnal....and glide.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flying_squirrels

Cute little buggers.


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## mr squeaks

WOW! A REAL Flying Squirrel??? HOW GREAT IS THAT?!

Wonder if he/she and Norman have ever met...maybe in "passing?"

Don't think the two "different" ones would mate, would they? 

Mmmm, wonder if that means there is only ONE Norman and ONE Creature of the Night?? Sure no way to keep the genes goin'!

Don't know why but a Flying Squirrel never even occurred to me in spite of Paws throwing out hints right and left! I kept thinking "tropical." Last I saw and heard, Alaska is anything but!

NEXT on the agenda, getting an actual "flying" (gliding?) shot! All that great technology should be able to handle that...piece of cake... THEN, all the world would know for sure!

Has Norman been around lately? 

Shi


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## paws

*Brief Update*

I've been traveling off and on but was back home briefly this last week and Norman still remembers me... or at least the bread balls. I managed to get a video of him darting up to take one from my fingers that sadly cannot be posted here.

New to the neighborhood: A mob of little birdies that I eventually figured out were Common Redpolls. These guys showed up in the middle of the winter. Where did they migrate from, the North Pole? They would dine up to ten at a time on the upper feeder before I left for a couple of weeks. My neighbor was stopping by to put out feed every few days and was not fully briefed on my feeding technique. I always make sure there is feed there, but he built actual terrain features out of the stuff. Mountains of seeds! Well, I found out that redpolls must keep their feeding spots secret if there is only enough for a few hundred of the little guys, but when a pile of stuff that dwarfs Mt. McKinley shows up, it's time to tell all the friends and relatives. After I returned I counted twenty of them on the feeder at once! And then I switched cameras and found another ten or so scurrying around on the ground twenty feet below, grabbing errant seeds.

Or maybe not so errant seeds: I have a video of these guys pecking away in a mob. The odd part is a couple near the edge of the feeder who really look like they are _intentionally_ chucking seeds over the edge! It's uncanny!

They are prone to mass panic - all departing at once for no apparent reason. It's like maybe three decide to leave at once and the rest think they saw a predator. It sounds like shuffling cards: BRRAAAATTTT as forty little wings beat the air.

Of course, some times it is not a false alarm. On the video I mentioned there are a dozen or so pecking away. Then a little black and white chickadee shows up briefly. Then the panic hits and a second later the feeder is bare. And a second after that the biggest black and white chickadee you've ever seen lands. Hey - that's no chickadee! It's one of Norman's hated Magpies!


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## paws

*And Now For Something Completely Different*

A photo I found on the web: Apparently Norman's distant cousin doesn't command the respect that he does from the avian community.

Paul, my source through Shi, thinks they are Juvenile European Starlings. Nothing like reinforcing my opinion of kids!


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## TAWhatley

paws said:


> A photo I found on the web: Apparently Norman's distant cousin doesn't command the respect that he does from the avian community.
> 
> Paul, my source through Shi, thinks they are Juvenile European Starlings. Nothing like reinforcing my opinion of kids!


Yep .. those are Darling Starlings!

Terry


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## TerriB

Neat photo of the Common Redpolls - I can see where they got their name.  It's tough when you have someone filling in for you, although too much seed is probably better than too little.


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## Maggie-NC

Jim, one thing for sure - your birds will not go hungry with that amount of seed to dine on.

Loved the picture of the squirrel and starlings. Like Terry said, they are darling starlings. They are considered "trash" birds and are not protected by the feds, which is a pity. They are absolutely wonderful little birds. Sometime when you have a chance, check out this site: 

http://www.starlingtalk.net/phpBB2/index.php


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## Feather

That picture is now glued to a magnet (covering up our congressmen) on my fridge.


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## Maggie-NC

I'm surprised the starling picture hasn't made the e-mail circuit because it is so darn cute. If anyone ever gets a chance, read "Arnie, the Darling Starling". It is soooooo good. http://www.amazon.com/Arnie-Darling-Starling-Margarete-Corbo/dp/0395343909


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## Charis

Lady Tarheel said:


> I'm surprised the starling picture hasn't made the e-mail circuit because it is so darn cute. If anyone ever gets a chance, read "Arnie, the Darling Starling". It is soooooo good. http://www.amazon.com/Arnie-Darling-Starling-Margarete-Corbo/dp/0395343909


Maggie, do you know what happened to the author of that book? Years ago I would call her if I was having any troubles with or had question about my Starling. She was my resource. The last time I tried, the number was disconnected. I wondered if she had passed away. She was sure kind to answer all my questions. That was over 20 years ago.


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## paws

*The Starling Forum*

Great link, Maggie. Probably a good thing we don't have them around here - I could end up raising an orphan, and the site tells how the little guys imprint on you, so they are basically never able to be released. And they live twenty years or so! Twenty years of wandering around with a portable vacuum, a mop, and maybe a power-chisel!

And from the looks of it, Norman probably thinks it's a good thing, too!

Jim


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## Margarret

Hi Jim,
Glad to see you are home safe and sound. It was terrific to meet you last Dec. Loved the Redpolls. I've never seen them before. They look like happy birds on their seed mountain range. 
Ah yes, Starlings. I have one of the imprinted little rascals. Got him from a man who could no longer care for him. He is full of p and vinegar. Thinks everything within sight is his. Steals anything not nailed down. They are top notch mimics and he talks up a storm. Everything from a robot voice to the cell phone ring. Meows like the cats, does the fire truck siren. I could go on and on. But he makes me laugh daily and that is worth millions. Twenty years eh? Sigh. I'll probably go through several vaccums in that length of time.
 
Was glad to hear that Norman recognized you.

Margaret


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## TAWhatley

Margarret said:


> Hi Jim,
> Glad to see you are home safe and sound. It was terrific to meet you last Dec. Loved the Redpolls. I've never seen them before. They look like happy birds on their seed mountain range.
> Ah yes, Starlings. I have one of the imprinted little rascals. Got him from a man who could no longer care for him. He is full of p and vinegar. Thinks everything within sight is his. Steals anything not nailed down. They are top notch mimics and he talks up a storm. Everything from a robot voice to the cell phone ring. Meows like the cats, does the fire truck siren. I could go on and on. But he makes me laugh daily and that is worth millions. Twenty years eh? Sigh. I'll probably go through several vaccums in that length of time.
> 
> Was glad to hear that Norman recognized you.
> 
> Margaret


Hmmm .. sounds like Spreckles has the humans right where they need to be!  

Terry


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## Feather

Starlings....I love to watch them right before sundown, as hundreds of them perform their beautiful "Sky Ballet".


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## paws

*Flying Confirmation*

After many fruitless efforts (well, not totally fruitless - I learned a lot of things that _don't work) I can now confirm that CONnor, the Creature of the Night, is a flying squirrel. With a clever combination of intrusion detectors, surveillance cameras, and a dearth of sleep, I managed to get a few videos of the little guys gliding. Not very good videos, but good enough. Here's a capture from one of them. Too bad the forum can't handle videos.

The problem in getting decent videos is twofold. First, the night thing. Even with the artificial light I've provided, things are still dark enough to produce grainy images. Second, the videos are shot from fixed cameras, so you can't really zoom in and track the little bugger, and he's way to shy to let me stand around with a camcorder. So even if he starts out right beside the camera, he is almost instantly just a distant speck.

This summer, with our long daylight, I may try to rig up either a decent remotely controlled camera or make a "squirrel blind" - some sort of a box with a two-way mirror. Then I'll climb in with a laptop, some books, a case of snacks and drinks, an empty antifreeze jug for the latter, and maybe a camera, if it will fit. No yodeling allowed.

Look in the red circle. It is a little deceiving because of the angle, but that is CONnor gliding away from the camera (the blur below the rectangle is his tail), flaring upwards to land on the birch tree. Normal squirrels do not look like flying rectangles - those are his gliding "flaps" extended out to each side.

Jim_


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## paws

*Uh... but there might be an article problem.*

Okay, flying squirrel is correct. But "a flying squirrel" is not. Double your fun!

Jim


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## mr squeaks

AHA!! A CON*nor* AND a CON*nie*!!

At this rate, Jim, you will NEVER get your Cave finished! 

BUT, when the weather gets better and you set up your squirrel "blind" for making a Squirrel movie, you are going to have your eyes full! Between Norman (IS there a Norma??) during the day and the CONs at night...well, prepare for little sleep!

OK, so NOW the big question is: WHO is in the lab??? Nosy Members want to know...  

This thread is just getting better! Can't WAIT to see what happens!!  

Hugs to ALL

Shi

P.S. Soon, we will able to refer people to the ALASKAN SQUIRREL EXPERT!


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## paws

*And Now... Videos!*

Problem: There were videos on my computer that someone desperately thought needed to be examined by the world. At first I was puzzled, but then I realized, "Oh! _Those_ videos!" and things made more sense. So I fretted over this issue for days. It was high in my thoughts when (a) my car seat wasn't aflame under my butt, (b) I wasn't working out the aspects of carrying my porta-potty up a hill to dump it into my septic, and (c) I wasn't trying to find a path to world peace.

Incidentally, two of the three issue listed were legit. I haven't pondered world peace recently, but it seemed so noble!

At any rate, salvation came in the form of a PM from Dezirrae, explaining video sharing sites on the web. My previous experiences there had all ultimately been shut down by intellectual rights lawsuits, so I was a complete newbie at this. So I created a Photobucket account and _voila_ videos of everything but pigeons are being posted on the Web. I have pigeon ones, too, but I suspect they are old hat around here. So far I think I've managed to upload two videos - in one you get to meet Norman, in the other you see the poor little guy verge on cardiac arrest defending "his" seeds from the hated magpies.

Many thanks to Dezirrae!

Jim

Meet Norman:
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=NormanBreadball01.flv

Magpie Chase:
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=Squirrelchaselong.flv

Yikes, those are long! I'll see how they turn out in the post and, if necessary, repost with them cut into chunks.


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## paws

*But Wait! There's more!*

Here's the best video I have of Creature of the Night / CONnor / Whoever, the flying squirrel, doing his thing:

http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=CONFlightCachecrop.flv

Jim


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## TAWhatley

Really enjoyed the videos, Jim! Thank you! 

Terry


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## TerriB

Wow!! That Norman is one rabid magpie chaser!!!! Great videos - thanks for sharing!


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## mr squeaks

YESSSS!!

Many thanks, Dez...I knew there was a way the world could enjoy 'Mad" Norman in his Magpie chasing mode AND see a gen-u-ine Flying Squirrel!

I'm sure there will be more over time! No tellin' what those guys will be up to next!

THANKS, Jim... 

Shi


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## Maggie-NC

Poor little guy - Norman is going to run his legs off. The magpies are so pretty - wish we had some here.

Jim, are the flying squirrels a lot smaller than Norman? That was a neat video. Thanks for all three.


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## paws

*Squirrel Sizes*

Norman seems larger, and this is backed up by some quick research I did (as usual, I got more information than I really wanted: Flying squirrels can be infested by three different types of fleas at once). I'm going to try to snap a photo of Norman at roughly the same spot as CONnor usually eats. The camera is fixed in place, so the comparison should be sound.

Beyond just length, the flyers are much lighter than "standard" squirrels, which I suppose makes a lot of sense if they want to minimize their time in body casts.

Yes, the magpies are gorgeous, especially when the sunlight hits their iridescent plumage. Of course, when you (or, in my case, my camera) get close, they look pretty surly - very crow/raven like. But that really adds character to them, I think.

Here's a quick video featuring the subjects above, i.e., size differences and magpies. To add to the thrill, you should yell "Run away! Run away" at about the twelve second mark, when the little chickadee lands on the far railing. This is particularly effective if you've seen Monty Python's Holy Grail a few hundred times.

http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=Redpoll-Magpie.flv

Jim


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## Maggie-NC

Wow, he is gorgeous. Loved the little chickadee joining the redpolls. You sure put out a feast for everyone and you can tell they appreciate it too.


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## mr squeaks

TWO questions, Jim:

1. Did you ADD another suet feeder?

2. In the final plans of your Cave, you ARE going to KEEP "Jim's Gourmet Restaurant" in some form or fashion, right??

As always, such a pleasure to read/see updates... 

Hugs

Shi


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## paws

*Suets, Future Plans*

Yes, I added a second feeder, a super-luxury double-cake one that every flying thing in the area avoids like the plague. I was experimenting with suets and this experiment will go down in infamy with things like the impact-opening parachute and dart board sets for the blind. I even got a special "Woodpecker Suet" hoping to see more of that nice couple, but I ended up seeing less, because the original suet feeder is now way above the platform, so I have to elevate the camera by remote control to see it. And, you guessed it, the woodpeckers want nothing to do with the designer food and still go to the old one. Next time I'm around a pet store I'm getting two more of the garden variety suet cakes that are known and loved by all up there.

The feeder will be somewhere if/when I ever finish the place. Probably at the other end of the building, where there will be a deck to service it from. Maybe one at each end, plus the ground level one for acrophobic birds.

I managed a halfway decent comparison of Norman and CONnor. You can see that Norman is a bit longer (note that he is actually in a bit of a compressed stance and CONnor is stretching) but much more massive in girth (yes... I know - some of that is because of the stances, too). Incidentally, CONnor doesn't look this hideous - it's a really bad photo. Maybe I'll post some CONnor eating videos so you can better appreciate his cuteness.

Jim


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## Lin Hansen

Jim,

Thanks for the great videos... I really enjoyed seeing them.

Linda


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## Maggie-NC

Jim, they do look similar in size but CONnor doesn't look like a squirrel very much. In the second picture, is that a little head peaking around the box where CONnor is eating?


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## Dezirrae

Yeeeeaaaahhhh!!! So glad you were able to post the videos - I really enjoyed seeing all of them (especially being able to "meet" Norman this way  And now I can say at least I've seen a flying squirell in action - how kewl 



paws said:


> To add to the thrill, you should yell "Run away! Run away" at about the twelve second mark, when the little chickadee lands on the far railing. This is particularly effective if you've seen Monty Python's Holy Grail a few hundred times.


ROFL... you are so right - that DID add to the thrill 



Lady Tarheel said:


> In the second picture, is that a little head peaking around the box where CONnor is eating?


Looks to me to be a second head peaking around the corner too Maggie.

Would love to see some CONnor eating videos Jim cause he is such a little cutie 

Thank you so much for posting all these video (and the pictures too of course).


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## Feather

Thanks Paws!

You were right! The world needed to see these videos.


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## paws

*Little Face, Mo' Videos*

Since the tasteful fountain that suddenly appeared behind my sofa has been stopped (who needs a real life when excitement comes to you daily?), I’ll quickly attack this before the other shoe drops… whatever that means. I think I’m under a centipede.

Yes, that’s a little face trying to get into the picture: The photo was cropped from the picture of the two in one of my 1/24 posts, “_Uh… but there might be an article problem._”

As I write I’m uploading a couple more CONnor videos, or more accurately CONnor/CONnie, or whoever, videos.

This one is just a short take of them eating.
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=CONDouble02.flv

Here we learn that they don’t like it when a camera suddenly comes alive. Like the glider, it is for some reason slowed by about a third. “_Some reason_” roughly meaning, “_I have no clue how to use the video-cropping program_”:
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=CONDoubleflee.flv

And finally just a single snacker – he/she moves a bit so you can see different aspects. It is also a bit slow. It’s interesting how they carefully cradle their food even when chewing. Nice, tidy eaters. A vivid contrast to the Redpolls, who seem to delight in flinging seeds into the air or over the edge of the feeder. Of course, Redpolls don’t have “hands”.
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=CON01long.flv

Feather: “The world needed to see these videos” – This is something I’ve been wondering about: Presumably people browse or search this PhotoBucket place like they do You-Tube, etc. So some people are coming across these things totally out of context and must wonder what’s up with all this squirrel stuff. I should dig around and find one totally unrelated video to put in there just to drive them nuts, “Well, everything else involves a squirrel… there has to be a tie-in!”

I’m thinking an elephant polo (really!) video.

Jim


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## TerriB

Great videos!!! The flying squirrels seem to have a much softer personality than the dirunal squirrels. Thank you for sharing!


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## Feather

Paws,
I for one have never seen a squirrel chasing a magpie. Why I have never even seen a magpie. When I visit your thread, I know that I will see critters that are not common to my urban habitat, so an Elephant Polo match will just fall right in.
That is quite a spread that you put out for them. You did get some really good videos of your flying guests this time. This thread is always a treat. Better than that Ol Super Bowl!


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## mr squeaks

Actually, the Super Bowl WAS quite exciting! I was afraid it would turn into a lopsided win for the Pats....

NICE GOING, NY GIANTS!!

Personally, I thought they deserved to win!!

Off to watch the latest Alakan fun and games... 

Shi


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## paws

*High Maintenance Birdies*

These little guys can really put away some food! Sure, a redpoll can't match a pigeon seed for seed, but when enough show up to blot out the sky, it can add up. I generally put out three types of food, and went through ten pounds of one of them in about four days! Part of the increase is an apparent multiplication of the redpoll population. I tried to count today ("Will you guys quit jumping around?") and got up to at least twenty five on the upper feeder, a dozen or so on the lower feeder, and maybe another dozen flitting about. A couple months ago I rarely saw a dozen, total.

But I think that this may not really be what it seems (a remake of "The Birds"). I'm probably seeing each bird more often. Why? Because last night, for example, it was -25°F. Those poor little half-ounce guys must eat a pound apiece to keep their furnaces going full blast.

The theory of thermal necessity, though, is sort of shot down by the magpies. I used to see up to six at once. Yesterday it was eleven. Yesterday was a very loud day. This could have pushed Norman over the edge (okay - _farther_ over the edge), but he seems to have lost interest in them for the winter. I think that his life involves desperately cold dashes to the feeder and back to the meth lab, where he presumably has a nice insulated nest (did I mention that at least one mattress in there is shredded?), followed by hours of counting and recounting his breadball collection and wondering just what the heck they are used for... the human never seems to do anything with them. They must be gag gifts.

On to the video collection. First, another redpoll mob clip, much like the one with the magpie crashing in except (a) there are a lot more redpolls, (b) the magpie has turned into a nuthatch, and (c) the vast majority of the redpolls are nowhere near as impressed by it. On the other hand, he does make a bit of a splash compared to when just one of their brethren arrives, so either they are intimidated by the black mask thing or they have the same lack of faith as I do as far as the nuthatches' attention to detail in choosing a landing spot. A nuthatch landing on my head is entertaining. A redpoll might not be so easily amused. Perhaps that's why they have the bright red spot on their crowns.
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=Redpoll20.flv

And, on an even farther departure from the pigeon theme of this forum, a clip from the 2006 World Championships. Well, _some_ 2006 World Championships.
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=Elephantballmiss.flv

Jim


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## Feather

Just wait until I tell my cousin that they have Elephant Polo in Alaska now.

She goes to Shri Lanka to watch the games. She told me that sometimes when someone misses the ball that the elephants will pick the ball up and throw it toward the goal.


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## paws

*MVP Elephants*

That elephants are smart is one of the game's problems. They have to come up with rules to thwart the pachyderms' team spirit. It is a no-no to pick up the ball. It is also a no-no to lie down in the goal (they even figured that out). But there are loopholes: In one of the games I watched, one of the American team's goals was scored by an elephant's kick. As you can see in the video, it is all but impossible to ban that sort of a thing - those ponderous feet are always either deflecting a shot or accidentally booting the thing on their own.

So the beast must have received the team's MVP award. I think it was their only goal. At least it was the only one I saw in two games. But things should get better. It was the first time, as far as I know, that any of them had even been on an elephant. On the brighter side, one played conventional polo. Two of the players were recruited through a Craigslist ad!

The championships I went to were in northern Thailand. Sadly, Alaska is fresh out of elephants. A few months ago the last one was shipped to some zoo in the Lower 48. Well overdue, really. They can't really go outside in the winter, so they must have been miserable eight months out of the year. So miserable that they didn't even use their treadmill (really!). Her only companion died a few years ago, probably tripling the value of her paintings, like all dead artists. Yes, we had a painting elephant. The paintings were sold to defray some of the maintenance costs.

Jim


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## mr squeaks

Mmmm, wonder just HOW MANY elephants decide to become artists?

We had an elephant named Ruby at the Phoenix Zoo who painted...she became quite well known from what I heard. She did do some very colorful paintings...

AND, of course, one could buy them in the gift Shop... 

Regarding elephant polo in Thailand, how nice that the playing field was "cleaned"...bet THAT was fun job!

  

I'm sure it's more difficult for Norman to chase those pesky Magpies when there's a foot or more of snow on the ground! No wonder he waits!

Hopefully, in the summer, the Mags and Norman will resume their "teasing!" Watching him go after those guys is just hysterical! That squirrel can RUN!

KEEP WARM and HAPPY FEEDING!!

_Shi & Squeaks_


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## paws

*A sad one*

One morning I was checking the yard on the TV and noted that two magpies were dining at the lower feeder. But there was something else there, scuttling around at the base of the feeder. At one point it hopped upwards and seemed to startle the magpies away. It looked very small, but the camera was far away, so it seemed like it might be Norman, Bane of All Magpies. After a while I went out, breadball in hand, and found a tiny, rotund, and apparently flightless - generally, if you can fly, something the size of Mt. McKinley closing in on you will elicit such action - redpoll. Oh, no! 

So I slipped back inside and found a medium-sized topless box, laid down a luxurious garbage bag carpet, put in a styrofoam tray laden with a sumptuous feast of seeds and peanut dices, plus a refreshing beverage, put in a nice, comfy box with soft, fluffy paper towel shreds, and frantically tried to figure out what do really do about it. Eventually I couldn't waste any more time, so out I went to trap the wild fluffball. After a high speed pursuit of maybe five feet, she was resting comfortably in another styrofoam tray, so comfortably, in fact, that she thought she should climb onto the hand that was holding the tray and poop on it in appreciation.

After numerous tray-hand-tray transfers, the low-tech version of a treadmill, we ended up in the trailer, and the little ball was put in the box amid the splendor of the seeds. I then retreated to close the various doors I had left open while performing the treadmill activity, and returned seconds later to find that the little fluffball was not completely flightless - she was perched on the lip of the box, about a foot up. Eventually we agreed that the box just wasn't the place to be right then and, after exploring vast expanses of the trailer, she found comfy spot on the linoleum.

I then raided the box's larder to supply food and water, and we became fast friends through my charitable act of splitting sunflower seeds apart and handing them over so that a diminutive beak could handle them better.

I wasn’t terribly sure she was actually sick. She could have been be a juvenile, as improbable as a chick in the middle of winter sounds. Juveniles resemble adult females, which is what I had originally assumed this little thing to be (and hence my use of the feminine forms here). Her puffball appearance, which I originally took to be sickly, could have just been the baby down - there were little tufts coming off here and there. She certainly had an appetite, pooped appropriately and often, and was keen on exploring the new habitat, particularly higher places like the sofa and the counter. She quickly developed a technique for this: Walk up below the desired area, stare at it, and shuffle back and forth sideways. Eventually _someone_ would get the idea and come over and lift her up. There would then be the some brief exploration and maybe a nap, followed by a flutter back down to the seeds. I must have lifted her up thirty times.

Finally, as the night approached, she let me know it was sleepy time by putting her head under a wing and dozing off. I put her in the fluffy bed in her box and she fell right back asleep, so I turned in, too, so as not to disturb her.

The little girl died in her sleep sometime that night. I certainly couldn't do this regularly - I only knew her for maybe eighteen hours and was devastated. I'll never know what killed her, but I hope she wasn't in pain during the last day, or I should have taken her to be euthanized. I don't think she was - she certainly seemed healthy and active between naps. She didn't seem to be at all distressed about my presence, so I hope her last day was better than shivering in a snowbank somewhere.

I'm still bummed.


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## paws

*A Bit Cheerier*

Okay, sorry about that last one. On to happier things: More redpolls. I did a survey involving three pictures of the various feeders taken within thirty seconds and found at least 56 of the little guys. Always one to throw gas on the fire, I set about providing thistle seeds, supposedly their favorites. Since thistle seed is perhaps actually lighter than air, just tossing it onto the feeder was out: We’re still in our high wind season. So I was eyeing a five perch thistle feeder at the store and doing the math (yikes!) when a sales clerk asked if I’d used socks. At first taken aback – I wasn’t using a length of rope as a belt or missing key teeth - I quickly realized that she was referring to some other sort of sock. So soon I was heading home with three sock feeders and a massive supply of thistle seeds.

At first the redpolls weren’t quite sure what the deal was. I ended up laying one down on the feeder for them to better examine, but it just seemed to get in the way as they darted about, landing on it, walking on it, and defiling in all manners. But eventually one of them pecked at it, perhaps out of spite, and the secret was out.

Remember the 56 on all three feeders? Well, here’s at least 71 on just the upstairs feeder, and I can’t see the backsides of the socks to count them there! The attic has a constant “threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep” noise as all of them seem to be chirping at once.

I’ve also uploaded a brief video of this carnage to Photobucket:
http://s253.photobucket.com/albums/hh62/paws-55/?action=view&current=RedpollsThreeSocks.flv

Jim


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## paws

*And a Better, Quieter View of Redpolls*

Interesting: They all have the black face and throat mask, but it is all but invisible when viewed from the side, like on the one with the seed.

Jim


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## Maggie-NC

Ah Jim, it does tear your gut out to lose one and I'm terribly sorry this little guy didn't make it. She doesn't look well in the photo but for her to be so active after you brought her in is puzzling. I know they can camouflage their illnesses but I've never seen one that could sustain it as long as she did. Usually, they will have a burst of energy but it usually doesn't last long. Her eye looked like it may have had an infection but there are so many darn things that can go wrong that you'll never know.

You do know, however, that for that brief period of time she was loved, warm and had a full tummy. You did all you could. 

On a brighter note - I sure enjoy your adventures and appreciate your sharing them with us.


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## mr squeaks

I, too am so sorry about the little Redpoll! They are really adorable birds! 

I can just see a sock war coming up! Mmmm, wonder how long those socks are gonna last??

I'm assuming Norman and the CONs aren't interested in the socks?

For someone who prefers living outside of a dense inhabited area, you are courting disaster. I still say that you will one day become known as the "Bird Man of Alaska!" 

Keep those updates comin'....

Hugs

_Shi & Squeaks_


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## paws

*Socks and Squirrels*

I was apprehensive about the socks being mauled by non-avian visitors, but I've watched both the day shift and the night shift and neither gives the socks a second look.

I had a bit of a scare yesterday when a Hairy Woodpecker landed on one and poked at it tentatively for a while, but he eventually decided that that wasn't his thing and fluttered over to the suet. He really looked more curious than anything else. That beak would make short work of the socks, I fear.


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## Margarret

Jim, 

I'm so sorry to hear you lost the little Redpoll you took in. As Maggie said, you did all the things you could and she was warm and full at the end of her brief life. Sometimes that is all one can do. I know how devastating it feels.

You have quite a buffet set up there. I'm sure they have sent word along whatever telegraph system they use that "there is a fine place over here, bring the family" Those are beautiful little birds. They look about the size of an English sparrow to me. I bet they are delightful to watch at the feeder.

Margaret


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