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<blockquote data-quote="PiscesPtah" data-source="post: 4094519" data-attributes="member: 97955"><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Okay, so, nice, sunny days having been in comparatively short supply around the ole singlewide here in the wild hinterlands of late, I took my trusty Canon SX100 IS out for a stroll around the hillside last week to see what we could capture and bring to the cyberworld via the miracle of digital photography. And (as so many episodes in my life DO) it turned out to be a much bigger venture than I could have possibly conceived at the start...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">I should have realized that the juvenile flicker woodpecker (whose parents seem to have migrated a few weeks ago to greener hills -- someplace where they HAVE "green hills", that is) who I believe thinks of me as some kind of "aunt" or "godmother" since I've been a part of its environment since it was a mere sparkle in its daddy-flicker's eyes, was trying to tell me that something was amiss. It rarely allows me within 50 feet of it and, today, it perched in a branch of scrub oak barely 6 feet away -- squawking loudly at me in its most grating pitch. After which, it flew only another 3 or 4 feet further away from me and started in again. I should have known it was raising a local alarm about something tangible (flickers not being predisposed toward living out fantasies or practical joking).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">I decided to make my way down the steep driveway -- both in an attempt to strengthen my artificial hip (bestowed upon me last July after I demonstrated a distinct attitude of lackadaisical disregard for the former "wholeness" of my bone-structure by totaling my Jeep on a sharp curve) and work off a few calories while, at the same time, attempting to get a few usable photos of the "Ithuriel's Spears" (wildflowers) that bloom in the lower half of the driveway.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Well, as you may have surmised, the driveway is LONG and STEEP here in the wild hinterlands -- which caused yours truly to have to stop every few steps on the return trip and catch her breath. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">As I rounded the corner of the landlord's somewhat gigantic "shop building" (across from which another tenant occupies his own singlewide here on the property), I was momentarily startled by a flurry of black and white and red feathers that dropped -- nearly on TOP of me -- from the rafters of an open-walled storage area to one side of the shop. I recognized it as a live bird because of the demonstration it was giving to prove that it was no slouch in the "annoying, loud vocalizations" department, either. It was a comparativly rare visitor around here (rare enough that a sighting of one prompted a reader of the local paper to write a letter to the editor about it last year): A pileated woodpecker (the kind that looks like ole "Woody")!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">It was obvious that the little pileated was hurt -- number one because it was squawking continuously and, number two, because it wasn't flying away at all but just walking around with its wings half-spread. It then ducked under the landlord's huge forklift for refuge. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><img src="http://media-files.gather.com/images/d15/d919/d746/d224/d96/f3/full.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">At that point, the neighbor across the driveway came to his door and said, "I don't think it's long for this world."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">I felt sorry for the little thing but knew I was ill-prepared to take on that formidable beak, so, I dashed up the driveway to our place, grabbed my cellphone and looked up the number for local wildlife rescue. It being Saturday, of course, I got an answering machine but, hoping for the best, I left a message. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">As I was about to walk -- cellphone in hand -- back down the driveway I heard a brief but loud series of panicked squawks. When I arrived at the spot where I'd last seen the woodpecker, the neighbor shouted through his screen door "Two foxes just ran up, one of 'em grabbed the woodpecker in his mouth and they both took off! They went around the back of shop and you can still see one of 'em on the hillside right behind it!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">I cautiously tip-toed around the corner of the building and, sure enough, there was the CUTEST little fox -- just standing there looking at me! That's when I realized that -- like a rookie -- I'd left my camera at my house! The other fox, however -- and the woodpecker -- were nowhere to be seen. I spoke soothingly to the little fox: </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">"It's okay," I said, "I'm not mad at you for taking the woodpecker. I know you have to eat, too."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">It stopped its imminent retreat and sat down -- still watching me warily-- so I kept talking to it in a low voice: "Hi! My name's Jean... My, my... Aren't you a pretty little foxy! I think you're just beautiful!"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">It turned its head to the side, eyes half-closed, as though it was allowing me to admire its profile. Obviously deciding that I was not a threat to its wellbeing, it then began washing its front paws -- cat-like -- with its tongue.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">As much as I wanted to stand and watch it for as long as it would stay there, I knew no one would believe this whole encounter happened unless I went back to the house and got my camera. So, reluctantly, I turned around and, quickly but quietly, dashed back to the house. (I certainly got MY exercise for the day!)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">As I started back down the driveway, there, half-way up the driveway to my house, was the little fox who had, it appeared, had started to FOLLOW ME back up the driveway! Not expecting to find him there, I think I scared him a little because I was literally tearing back down the driveway, trying to get to the spot where I'd just seen him in time to still catch him on film. I WAS able to snap two photos of him (one pretty blurry), however, before he darted off:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><img src="http://media-files.gather.com/images/d22/d919/d746/d224/d96/f3/full.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">I looked behind the shop building to see if he might have gone back there but, no luck... ( :^( Although, I DID hear considerable rustling in the underbrush.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">On the way back, as I stopped to pick up one, fresh, black and white feather on the ground near the spot where I'd last seen the woodpecker, my cellphone began to ring. It was a lady from wild bird rescue. I explained to her how Mother Nature had taken care of the problem on her own by feeding two little foxes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">"Oh, my GOODNESS!" she interjected with shock in her voice.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">"But," I added -- holding the black and white feather up to the sun and smoothing it with my fingers, "I found one of the little woodpecker's feathers on the ground. So, we're going to honor its important role in the Greater Plan and thank it for its sacrifice."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">"That sounds like an excellent thing to do," she replied, laughing. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Shaking his head in puzzlement, my neighbor went back inside his house and shut the door... </span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><img src="http://media-files.gather.com/images/d23/d919/d746/d224/d96/f3/full.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">From the ole singlewide here in the wild hinterlands of Sonoma County, Northern California --</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">luv,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">jean</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="PiscesPtah, post: 4094519, member: 97955"] [FONT="Times New Roman"]Okay, so, nice, sunny days having been in comparatively short supply around the ole singlewide here in the wild hinterlands of late, I took my trusty Canon SX100 IS out for a stroll around the hillside last week to see what we could capture and bring to the cyberworld via the miracle of digital photography. And (as so many episodes in my life DO) it turned out to be a much bigger venture than I could have possibly conceived at the start... I should have realized that the juvenile flicker woodpecker (whose parents seem to have migrated a few weeks ago to greener hills -- someplace where they HAVE "green hills", that is) who I believe thinks of me as some kind of "aunt" or "godmother" since I've been a part of its environment since it was a mere sparkle in its daddy-flicker's eyes, was trying to tell me that something was amiss. It rarely allows me within 50 feet of it and, today, it perched in a branch of scrub oak barely 6 feet away -- squawking loudly at me in its most grating pitch. After which, it flew only another 3 or 4 feet further away from me and started in again. I should have known it was raising a local alarm about something tangible (flickers not being predisposed toward living out fantasies or practical joking). I decided to make my way down the steep driveway -- both in an attempt to strengthen my artificial hip (bestowed upon me last July after I demonstrated a distinct attitude of lackadaisical disregard for the former "wholeness" of my bone-structure by totaling my Jeep on a sharp curve) and work off a few calories while, at the same time, attempting to get a few usable photos of the "Ithuriel's Spears" (wildflowers) that bloom in the lower half of the driveway. Well, as you may have surmised, the driveway is LONG and STEEP here in the wild hinterlands -- which caused yours truly to have to stop every few steps on the return trip and catch her breath. As I rounded the corner of the landlord's somewhat gigantic "shop building" (across from which another tenant occupies his own singlewide here on the property), I was momentarily startled by a flurry of black and white and red feathers that dropped -- nearly on TOP of me -- from the rafters of an open-walled storage area to one side of the shop. I recognized it as a live bird because of the demonstration it was giving to prove that it was no slouch in the "annoying, loud vocalizations" department, either. It was a comparativly rare visitor around here (rare enough that a sighting of one prompted a reader of the local paper to write a letter to the editor about it last year): A pileated woodpecker (the kind that looks like ole "Woody")! It was obvious that the little pileated was hurt -- number one because it was squawking continuously and, number two, because it wasn't flying away at all but just walking around with its wings half-spread. It then ducked under the landlord's huge forklift for refuge. [IMG]http://media-files.gather.com/images/d15/d919/d746/d224/d96/f3/full.jpg[/IMG] At that point, the neighbor across the driveway came to his door and said, "I don't think it's long for this world." I felt sorry for the little thing but knew I was ill-prepared to take on that formidable beak, so, I dashed up the driveway to our place, grabbed my cellphone and looked up the number for local wildlife rescue. It being Saturday, of course, I got an answering machine but, hoping for the best, I left a message. As I was about to walk -- cellphone in hand -- back down the driveway I heard a brief but loud series of panicked squawks. When I arrived at the spot where I'd last seen the woodpecker, the neighbor shouted through his screen door "Two foxes just ran up, one of 'em grabbed the woodpecker in his mouth and they both took off! They went around the back of shop and you can still see one of 'em on the hillside right behind it!" I cautiously tip-toed around the corner of the building and, sure enough, there was the CUTEST little fox -- just standing there looking at me! That's when I realized that -- like a rookie -- I'd left my camera at my house! The other fox, however -- and the woodpecker -- were nowhere to be seen. I spoke soothingly to the little fox: "It's okay," I said, "I'm not mad at you for taking the woodpecker. I know you have to eat, too." It stopped its imminent retreat and sat down -- still watching me warily-- so I kept talking to it in a low voice: "Hi! My name's Jean... My, my... Aren't you a pretty little foxy! I think you're just beautiful!" It turned its head to the side, eyes half-closed, as though it was allowing me to admire its profile. Obviously deciding that I was not a threat to its wellbeing, it then began washing its front paws -- cat-like -- with its tongue. As much as I wanted to stand and watch it for as long as it would stay there, I knew no one would believe this whole encounter happened unless I went back to the house and got my camera. So, reluctantly, I turned around and, quickly but quietly, dashed back to the house. (I certainly got MY exercise for the day!) As I started back down the driveway, there, half-way up the driveway to my house, was the little fox who had, it appeared, had started to FOLLOW ME back up the driveway! Not expecting to find him there, I think I scared him a little because I was literally tearing back down the driveway, trying to get to the spot where I'd just seen him in time to still catch him on film. I WAS able to snap two photos of him (one pretty blurry), however, before he darted off: [IMG]http://media-files.gather.com/images/d22/d919/d746/d224/d96/f3/full.jpg[/IMG] I looked behind the shop building to see if he might have gone back there but, no luck... ( :^( Although, I DID hear considerable rustling in the underbrush.) On the way back, as I stopped to pick up one, fresh, black and white feather on the ground near the spot where I'd last seen the woodpecker, my cellphone began to ring. It was a lady from wild bird rescue. I explained to her how Mother Nature had taken care of the problem on her own by feeding two little foxes. "Oh, my GOODNESS!" she interjected with shock in her voice. "But," I added -- holding the black and white feather up to the sun and smoothing it with my fingers, "I found one of the little woodpecker's feathers on the ground. So, we're going to honor its important role in the Greater Plan and thank it for its sacrifice." "That sounds like an excellent thing to do," she replied, laughing. Shaking his head in puzzlement, my neighbor went back inside his house and shut the door... [IMG]http://media-files.gather.com/images/d23/d919/d746/d224/d96/f3/full.jpg[/IMG] From the ole singlewide here in the wild hinterlands of Sonoma County, Northern California -- luv, jean[/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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