Thursday, April 29, 2010

Traces of a Sharp-Shin

He is the James Bond of hawks, beating the bushes for his breakfast, almost always getting his man.

He hunts our feeders. When he is hungry he perches right on them, peering around for any bird who might be frozen to their sides or under their tops.

He is not what most people would consider a welcome feeder bird, but he always makes me smile. I have spread this feast for him, and he gladly avails himself.



He is the king of the birds in our yard, a cruel despot in their eyes.





The traces of his presence are everywhere—in the dark flank of a cardinal, torn





In the odd posture of a nuthatch, injured





who I no longer see around





And there’s nothing I can do about it but stop feeding

But to do that would be to lose the flocks I love so well

and send him hungry into the cold woods.





Spring is here and I miss him. I haven't seen him for weeks. Bill saw him April 25, circling over the east half of our land. Perhaps he is mated to the beautiful female sharpshin I saw carry a small package into the valley over which he circled. I hope he stayed.



I hear sharpshins calling from where she disappeared, on my morel-hunting slope below the big pines. Perhaps I’ll see him again when we’re moving slowly through the leaves, searching for pale honeycombed heads. The first ones came up April 21. We're hoping the gentle rains and soft ground will bring many more.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Sharp-shinned Hawk on the Feeder!



Oh, look. Who's that?

Oh, that's why there haven't been any birds around for the last hour. The sharp-shin is back!





The Indigo Hill sharp-shin as he appeared in November, 2007, the year of his hatch. He's in the spangled brown plumage of a juvenile. Now his back is blue as slate, with ruby eyes. My, how he’s grown, fueled by cardinals from our feeder.



All winter long and well into spring, we have played host to a sharp-shinned hawk. I’m almost certain, from his demeanor and habits, that he is the same little gentleman who was with us last year as a streaky, orange-eyed immature bird, and in 2007 as a rank juvenile (above). By that reckoning, and if it is indeed the same bird, he may be three years old now. He is smart, sleek and persistent, and he is an excellent hunter. Better than he was in 2007, and better than last year, to be sure.

Mostly, he presents himself as a blue bullet streaking about waist-high through the yard.



By the time the cardinal (almost invariably a male) is aware he’s being hunted he’s already being readied for processing into bite-sized bits. That’s a sharpie for you.





I love our sharpie. I choose to love him because I have attracted a small truckload of cardinals with my sunflower seed offerings; because I understand that a truckload (I’m talking 50-70) of cardinals in my yard is an unnatural concentration; and I accept the inevitability that somebody is going to take advantage of that. It is a perturbation in the natural scheme just begging for correction.



I also love him because he is beautiful.

He rockets through and alights in a tree like a piece of milkweed down, as if his talons snagged him suddenly there.



He looks about fiercely then settles into his bolt-upright comfort position, to stay for awhile and look for the unwary.



He extends a foot, knocks it on the branch a couple of times, and tucks it up into his downy belly feathers.

Doing so, he conjures Louis Fuertes and Lars Jonsson and the many sketches and paintings I’ve made of sharpies at rest, all tucked up and benign for a few moments.



He sees every small movement, in detail I can only imagine.



When he is hungry, he doesn’t sit so quietly.



He rages and frets, cartwheels, always on the attack, feathers sleeked to his hard little body.

This is when I am glad I’m not a junco.



Thanks to a persistent Pakistani spammer, I've had to disable comments on this post for the morning. Let's hope Mr. showpanmohsin, who lists his only hobby as Playing Video Games, will get discouraged and go stuff beans up his nose. And then let's hope they sprout.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Baker, Beeched


Chet Baker likes beech trees, old hollow ones with high squirtle and racketycoon potential. The terrier part of him comes out of hiding when he fearlessly enters their depths to investigate. You might be surprised to find me a rather lassiez-faire dogmom. I let him do his doggly things, within limits. At five years old, Chet has a good understanding of those limits. Cattle herding is out; he knows that. Horses are to be approached gently. Squirrels, rabbits and deer are to be chased, but only for short distances, and never pursued into briars (gotta take care of those googly eyes). Hollow beech trees are to be investigated. Offisa Pupp jumps on the case.

Into the beech tree he goes.
Perps beware: you're about to be told to move along.


Little-known Chet trivia: He has a jaunty white chevron just above his johnson. Boy, that's a weird shot.



It matches his Michael Jackson paw. Wouldn’t be hard to pick him out of a lineup.



He peers up into the hollow tree and



sassified that there is nothing more to find, he exits, covered in beechdust



To make a Christopher Robin moment for a mother, watching her two boys



On a walk almost forgotten, but preserved in precious images she's saved in the ether.

His sweet sleepy head sags on my arm as I share them with you.

He’s not heavy, he’s my heartbeat.

Photo by Bill Thompson III.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Bat Update, Blog Outreach

Photo by Tim Ryan, whose skill is undeniable, whether it's a real camera or one in a phone.

Writing from Woodward, Oklahoma, home of the second annual Lesser Prairie-chicken Festival, where my arrival with T. R. Ryan and Debby Kaspari coincided with curtains of nonstop frog-drowning rain and steadily falling temperatures. We repaired to the local Wal-mart, where you can git anything you want, from matching green rubber boots to ponchos to extra pullovers to Tickle Me Elmo flannel jammie pants to thick socks to thermal underwear to strange rubber turkeys that were in the hat section and had slits in the bottom but were probably not hats after all. We bought all of that and more because the roads are all washed out and we'll have to walk to try to see lesser prairie-chickens if we're going to see them at all. And yes, we're having a blast anyway.

Mini-update: The storm system sagged south of us, the skies cleared, we never got rained on, and I now have seen sparring lesser prairie-chickens on the lek. My Swarovski binoculars have one broken eyepiece so they're now monoculars. Must've been a fluke, because they only fell about two feet! No worries--I have my lovely Swarovski scope and all I have to do is send the binocs to the factory when I get home and they'll fix them for free.
Link
I've gotten all my thank-you notes written, to all of you who helped me through the bat episode and helped fund my rabies pre-exposure inoculations. My mama taught me how to write 'em, and she also taught me how to hoard pretty little cards for the time when you'll need them. I've gone through quite a few pretty little notecards, the ones that bad bad Charlie didn't chew to smithereens. I've had the pleasure of corresponding with a bunch of readers who might otherwise have remained unknown to me. It's been really cool. You are an amazing bunch of people and I feel deeply blessed to share a connection with you.

As a Pretend Scientist, I'm incredibly flattered when Real Scientists read my blog and write to say so. I got an email today from one such person, a fabulous woman who sent me my first game camera, telling a story of coincidence that I thought you'd enjoy. I'm excerpting, but the gist is there:

(Our college) had spring break about when you started posting about your bats. We had a class (studying) in Belize (but) I didn't get to go along this year. When the class came back, one of the students told her dad the story about the bat that flew into their room one night. He subsequently called the Center for Disease Control who then called our county health department who then called the student health center...and the result was that 3 of 7 people who were under the roof where the bat had been (none of these people ever touched the bat) went to the emergency room and had post-exposure shots - about $2000 each. I became involved because I am our resident disease ecologist and I was asked to provide our administrators with information on rabies (hopefully in Belize).

Your posts and the link to the USGS publication were incredibly helpful. I also consulted a friend of mine who is an excellent bat biologist. What eventually happened was the health department kept calling the students and faculty who decided against the shots (even though they did not know that no one touched the bat) - these students held firm and decided not to get the shots. The whole thing was really scary...I didn't want to give them the wrong advice, but I also felt that the risk was nearly zero! So all of this rambling to say, thanks for your thoughtful posts on the bat adventures. They were extremely timely and helpful. The USGS document even included data from Belize!


The document she's referring to is "Bat Rabies and Other Lyssavirus Infections" by Denny Constantine. It's available for free, here. Thanks again to Timothy Winship for the link and the information. The ripples of outreach spread outward, ever outward. And nothing is for naught.

Nine-hundred and fifty Girl Scouts were put through post-exposure rabies vaccinations after bats were found roosting in their cabins at a retreat. Does having a bat in the same room really equate to a rabies exposure? You can't be too careful, or can you?

Makes you wonder how we all survived our childhoods. Bill of the Birds returned from Guyana, having slept in a cabin for two nights with the gentle patter of bat urine and turds raining on his mosquito netting, to the mini-drama unfolding in his own home. I slept in the same cabins two years ago. Well, I tossed and turned there. I wouldn't call it sleeping.

One person in the U.S. has died of the big brown bat rabies strain since 1958. There are indications that this strain may not be as infective or virulent to humans as others. Rabies is not transmitted by magic. You really need bat saliva containing the virus in a bite or scratch wound (which can be microscopic) or on a mucous membrane to constitute an exposure. The stories and studies alleging possible aerosol transmission of rabies in bat caves are questionable. Two spelunkers who contracted the disease in Frio Cave, Texas were wading in knee-deep guano while being collided with by clouds of bats--does that sound like aerosol transmission to you? Sounds like they got bitten or scratched to me. A horrid experiment in which opossums were caged in a teeming bat cave for several weeks resulted in several of the animals contracting rabies. Thanks to the cage wire, they couldn't make direct contact with the bats, but bat urine and effluent rained down on them, as well as live bat lice...well, hmmm. Could they have been bitten by lice that had just bitten a rabid bat? Well, yeah, you'd think so. Again--doesn't sound like aerosol transmission to me. Nor does it sound like magic. People should stay out of bat caves unless they're vaccinated and have a darn good non-recreational reason to be there, like to study and help the bats.

Research is ongoing, trying to focus down on the incubation period of rabies in bats. It appears to be rather short--generally a couple of weeks from infection to the appearance of symptoms-- and the course of the disease is quick, too. A rabid bat is dead within a week. How I wish rabies weren't in the picture where bats are concerned. Bats have more than enough bad press via folklore, and now face the most devastating epizootic perhaps in history--white nose disease--which is killing them by the hundreds of thousands in the Northeast. Bats are not out to get us. Bats are just trying to live their lives, and they desperately need friends. Now, I feel safe in being one of those friends, having finished my series of three prophylactic (pre-exposure) vaccinations. And I thank you for helping me do that.



On the evening of Sunday, April 4, Bill and I saw the first big brown bat of the season, flittering about our birding towertop. It was a fine sight. I immediately wished for a huge bat house all along the south face of the tower, wished for it to be filled with bats. I took that as a sign that my enthusiasm for bats has been tempered but not extinguished, not by a long shot. I am sadder but, thanks to my friends, much wiser.

Dee Dee is still at the Ohio Wildlife Center, where she is getting flight conditioning. She broke the straw-fine bones of her fingertips when she beat them against the glass of her super-deluxe tank. I didn't realize it had happened until I saw her swollen fingertips, and even then I didn't realize that she'd broken them.
I had hung two towels along the side for roosting, but didn't know that it's necessary to pad the glass with nonskid foam drawer liner as well, because Dee liked to crawl between the towel and the glass and that's where she did the damage to her wingtips. Now I know that. Here's how they looked soon after the injury:


You can see the bent fingertip in the lower left corner of the photo.



When I saw the swelling in her fingertips I searched online for "swollen finger bones captive bats" and got a web site that advised that Dee Dee might have a bacterial infection treatable with Clavimox. So I got some Clavimox from a friend who is a veterinarian, and gave that to her twice a day. After a week, they seemed a lot better.


When I brought her to Ohio Wildlife Center, Animal Care Director Lisa Fosco took one look at her and said, "That's not an infection. Those are fractures." She then explained how it must have happened, all for the want of some foam padding which I didn't even know Dee needed. My heart, which had already fallen through my chest when I surrendered Darryl to be tested for rabies, fell even farther. I felt I'd done everything wrong that it was possible to do wrong, all in trying to do something right.

Dee Dee's wingtips curl inward, and her wings look cupped when she flies. Lisa said Dee might still be able to fly well when the tiny bones healed and were no longer sore; she said she's seen a bat with its wingtips missing fly just fine. I got an email last week, and learned that Dee Dee (BigBrownBat #243) is making progress under the expert care of Lisa Fosco and other OWC staff and volunteers. She was flying markedly better than she did when I brought her in two weeks earlier. (They take them into a big room at night and let them fly to see how they're faring. Ooh, can I help?)

As we've seen, rehab stories don't always end well, so I am very cautiously optimistic. I have all my fingers crossed that she'll be able to fly well enough for release. I call upon you, my beloved flying blogmonkeys, to unleash the power of positive thinking and envision Dee Dee rising high and diving nimbly above the gracious old homes of Marietta, Ohio in mid-May, making her way to her maternity roost, Darryl's child safe inside her.

That's Dee in front, hiding under Darryl's leg membrane, in happier days.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

My Matchday - 250 Stonebridge Road

Ebbsfleet United 2v0 Gateshead
Blue Sq Premier
Saturday 17th April 2010

Ebbsfleet United is the re-branded name of Gravesend & Northfleet FC who changed their name on May 1st 2007. Ebbsfleet is a small suburb of Northfleet, the renaming coincides with their sponsorship with Eurostar, whose trains serve Ebbsfleet International station. The area is on the south bank of the Thames in north west Kent and lies within the Thames Gateway



The club was formed in 1946 with the amalgamation of Gravesend United and Northfleet United, both had played in the Kent and Southern Leagues since the clubs were founded in the 1890’s.
The Fleet’s early history was in the Southern League, becoming champions in 1957-58, the club remaining in the league until becoming founder members of the Alliance Premier League in 1979.
G&N stay in the pyramids top league lasted only three seasons, with relegation back to the Southern League which they went on to win for a second time in 1993-94.
In 1997 they joined the Isthmian League which led to a return to the Conference after four seasons, winning the Isthmian Premier League in 2001-02.


Ebbsfleet United is renowned for the take over by the MyFootballClub website in November 2007. The website entered a deal to take over the club, with approximately 27,000 MyFootballClub members each paying £35 for one equal share which provided the funds for a £700,000 takeover. The members each had an input in major decisions including picking the team and votes on transfer targets.
After a successful first season which ended with a first trip to Wembley, with a 1-0 win over Torquay United in the final of the FA Trophy, the majority of MyFC members failed to renew their membership.
The numbers of renewals dropped to just over 9,000 in 2009 with the club previously stated that 15,000 was the minimum requirement, recent figures show that only 800 members have continued to pay membership fees.
Northfleet had played at Stonebridge Road since 1905. The marriage of the two clubs after the War saw Gravesend vacated their ground at Central Avenue and move in with their new partner.
The Main Stand was completed in 1959 replacing terracing which was used to replace the original old stand. The Stand has a single tier of red seats with white supporting pillars with a shallow terrace in front, which is mainly used for photographers and as a disabled supporters section.
There’s open terraces at each side of the Main Stand, the section nearest the Plough End is a popular part of the ground, as it’s close to the bar behind the Plough End stand. The covered terrace was replaced with seats in 2006. The roof of the stand still has vague remains of an advert for Trueman Beers and has THE FLEET painted in big red letters on the back wall.
Opposite the Main Stand is the Stonebridge Road End which had cover added in the early 1950’s and also incorporates a small club shop and TV gantry.
Away supporters use the Swanscombe End which was reconstructed with crash barriers added in 1980.
The record attendance in over 100 years stands at 12,032 for an FA Cup 4th round tie with sunderland in February 1963, the Fleet drawing 1-1, forcing a replay at Roker Park which they eventually lost 5-2.

I billed this match as a relegation cup final, but squad #51 John Young came up with a better alternative when I spoke to him prior to kick-off, labelling it “a big 9 pointer”
If Ebbsfleet failed to win they would be relegated, but victory would give them a chance of survival and at the same time put Gateshead deep into the relegation clarts, and this was exactly how it turned out.
The home side took the lead in the first minute, a mix up between Swales and keeper Farman left Vieira with an open goal from a yard out to give the Fleet a dream start.
With this game being a relegation battle and a big six, sorry!, nine pointer chances were limited, but Ashikodi could have doubled the lead in the 13th minute, his close range header flicked onto the crossbar by Farman.
Gateshead battled in the second half for an equaliser but as the game progressed it became increasingly unlikely, as Ebbsfleet relied on catching the Heed on the break. It came as no surprise when that tactic paid off two minutes from time. Vieira played the ball out wide to Shakes, who raced down the right flank before picking out the unmarked Stavrinou for a simple tap into an unguarded net.
This win increases Ebbsfleet’s chances of staying up and like visitors Gateshead the relegation dogfight goes into the final weekend, the fate of both sides still unknown until 5pm next Saturday night.

Another Saturday and another long journey, this week a 630 mile round trip from Tyneside to the Garden of England. We departed at 7am, the journey went well, our bus pulled up on Stonebridge Road just after 1pm, with a few of us staying aboard, some dressed in fancy attire requesting a detour across to Gravesend for a drink.
We intended on doing a pub crawl but settled at The Robert Pocock, the Gravesend branch of Wetherspoons which was full of Leeds United fans on route to Gillingham, who we had a friendly chat and sing-song with.
It was here that I met up with Kent based 100FgC #68 Jonathan Elton. It was good to meet up with Jon as I haven’t seen him since we went to the Don Valley Stadium in September 2008. He recently completed ’The 92’ (at Hartlepool 5th April) also another member of the 100FgC who travelled down for today’s game completed the set, Lincoln based squad#86 Jim Morris (at Bristol Rovers 13th April)
The day overall was great, obviously apart from the match, which from a Gateshead fans point of view was, and I’ll choose my words carefully and not swear - an unacceptable performance for such an important game.
Stonebridge Road is a bit of a classic non-league ground. It’s plain to see there hasn’t been any work done in recent years and could do with a bit of a spruce up, but overall I really liked it.
Looking back over this season, my biggest disappointment on a personal level is Gateshead’s away fixtures didn’t fall kindly for me and I missed out on plenty of Conference grounds, but hopefully I’ll get another crack at it next season, but at the moment, it’s looking extremely doubtful.


Matchday stats
EUFC 2(Viera 2 Stavrinou 88)GFC 0
att.1165
Admission £13

Thursday, April 15, 2010

The Pleasure Dome

The garden pod is at its best right now. Everything is in full bloom and ready for transplanting outdoors. I've repotted them all so they won't have to slow down for having cramped roots. The poet's jasmine is in full bloom again; the huge gardenia standard with the braided trunk burst open two days ago. After a dreadful winter of aphids and spider mite and whitefly, the insect forces have finally succumbed to a manageable level. Pyrethrins don't work at all for me any more; the insects chortle and frolic as they bathe and breaststroke in insecticide. More effective is organic clove and thyme oil, and it makes the greenhouse smell delightful when the spices mingle with gardenia and jasmine. But better than that is cold water, sprayed on the undersides of the leaves where pests hide. So simple, so beneficial, so nonpoisonous. Once I got the hose hooked up things started looking up for all my plants.



I love going down to the greenhouse to clip and prune and tidy things up, to water and sniff and breathe and banish the bad guys. Bill bought the little thermopane dome at a garden show years ago; it was a prototype display model that never went into production. Pity that. I count the Garden Pod as the best (material) gift anyone's ever given me. If you've always wanted a little greenhouse, just....DO IT. You only live once.



Bill took some nighttime photos of me in the greenhouse, reveling in out-of-season blossoms and fragrance, that bring to mind Coleridge's Kubla Khan, which I excerpt here, minus its second stanza which is all about war:







In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;



And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!...



The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves:

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 't would win me

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

that's the huge poet's jasmine bush at my feet. Now imagine that with hundreds of blossoms, all stinkin' up the night air...all dome photos by Bill Thompson III

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

My Matchday - 249 Frenchfield Park

Penrith 0v0 Spennymoor Town
Northern League Division One
Wednesday 14th April 2010
“Oh to be in England now that April’s there” is a famous opening line of Victorian poetic gubbins by Browning, or is it Tennyson? (I better google it*) Spring time means we’re moving towards the finale of the season when the pots and medals are handed out, although there’s a club close to my heart who managed to achieve their goal with still half a dozen games remaining.
Anyway the reason behind this pretentious opening link is my matchday calendar has reached the month of April and the shocking revelation is that this is my first Northern League fixture of the season. However in my defence, and just in case club secretary Mr Haworth happens to be reading this and requests the acquiesce of my membership of ‘The Northern League Club’ I have attended games involving Dunston, Whitley Bay and Shildon in this seasons in FA Vase. (* Aye. It’s Robert Browning…Eddy)

Since my previous visit to Penrith at Southend Road in November 2007, the Blues went on to win Division Two that season(as I predicted at the time) and merged with Northern Alliance club Penrith United, reverting to their original name of plain old Penrith AFC. The team went on to finish 7th in Division One last season and reached the finals of both the League and Cumberland Cups.
Last seasons league title was won in Penrith when Newcastle Benfield clinched the championship with a late winner. As football has a habit of regurgitate itself it was Spennymoor Town who headed west to Cumbria needing three more points to become this seasons champions. However it wasn’t to be, as Penrith held the runaways leaders to a feisty draw after spending nearly the whole of the second half with ten men.

Played on a bobbley pitch the game got off to a poor start, Michael Rae came closest to breaking the deadlock, his effort hitting the crossbar in the 35th minute the only decent chance in an uneventful first half.
Minutes after the restart Penrith’s big centre half Robertson was shown the red card, the linesman on the far side saw something that no one else did, drawing the referees attention and grassing up the big lad for apparently picking on Spenny’s Dixon as the players lined up in the penalty area awaiting a free kick.
The leaders should have gone on and took the required three points, Graydon twice went close with free kicks while Cogdon produced a good save from the keeper. As the game progressed Penrith grew with confidence and could have won the game themselves with their best effort coming from Torres look-a-likey Michael Brown.
In stoppage time Rea had a glorious chance to clinch it, but blasted his close range effort over the bar. His reaction to missing such a glorious chance was to push a Penrith player flat on his back in a rage of frustration. It looked like the player had took the piss out of him for missing a sitter and he reacted like a kid in a schoolyard kick about.
Penrith were delighted to hold the champions elect to a draw, while Spenny still have four games and a big lead at the top to be confirmed as Northern League champions.

Due to the current financial climate the Frenchfield project was completed later than expected but Penrith finally took possession of the new premises prior to the start of the season, kicking off with a friendly with Annan Athletic on the 3rd August.
The ground is situated on the edge of the town by the A66, the complex is huge, 30 acres including seven full size pitches, when I arrived the place was a hive of activity with plenty of football taking place.
Frenchfield Park is found in the far corner of the complex. An attractive looking main stand caters for all amenities. The clubhouse is found at the top of the stand which is a like an executive suite at a big stadium, having a glass front which looks out onto the pitch with a separate area cordoned off for club officials and hospitality.
The changing rooms are underneath, both sets of players facilities are at opposite sides of the stand with the refreshment kiosk opposite the turnstile block.
The stand has a large cantilever roof with nine rows of blue seats with a capacity of around 250. The exterior of the stand is decked with wooden cladding which blends in with the grounds perimeter fence.
At the far side there’s a three stepped standing shelter named ‘The Walter Brogden Stand’ named after the life long fan and club secretary. The rest of the ground is made up of large tarmaced standing with a pair of Perspex dugouts in front of the stand.
It’s obvious that Frenchfield Park lacks the character of the previous home of 106 years, but the ground has been well designed and isn’t a quick knock-up-job as you sometimes get with new non-league grounds. The ground’s tranquil setting with the surrounding farmland and the views of the snow covered hills at Hartside Moor make Frenchfields an inimitable new addition to the Northern League and one that, in time, will become a favourable destination amongst sNL groundhoppers.

Matchday stats
PAFC 0 STFC o
att.78
Admission £5