The Birds and the Bees
16/08/16 07:59
Nancy asked me if I wanted her to order me a “Trump for President” tee shirt. I had to think about that one for a minute. What if I were to wear it and some leftie decided that they didn’t like it. Worse yet, they might take it upon themselves to see to it that the messenger (that would be me) get a proper beating or tongue lashing on behalf of their candidate, the ever offensive and always corrupt Hillary Clinton. To not say or do anything would be less than true to their cause. They are, after all, anarchists at heart and faithful followers of Saul Alinsky so no action is considered too radical when it comes to protecting the status quo. The status quo, in case you’re curious, as represented by the two term administration of one Barrack Hussein Obama. While many Trump supporters are closeted in their passion for their candidate to avoid any and all such conflicts, taking a stand is on occasion the right thing to do. I told her to go ahead and order the damn thing. I may not wear it when we’re traveling through Vermont on our way to Lake George, although riling those pinko draft dodgers would give me pleasure beyond description, I think it is my patriotic duty to fly the colors of the opposition just to let the world know that the opposition, patriotic and passionate in their support for their candidate, is alive in well in our nation. They may not like it but we will not be silenced. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Oh, and if they have any magnetized bumper stickers, get me one of there too. The last one I had was not magnetized and it made a holy mess when I tried to take it off the car. Let’s be more careful this time.
I told Nancy that she and I would have to have a “come to Jesus” discussion about biking if she were to stop working and be home full time. While we bike together on those days she has off, I do my own thing on the days she goes to work. That typically means riding longer and perhaps harder and were she to be riding with me she would soon fall behind and likely remain out of sight for the duration of the ride. I’m always mindful when I am riding with her to never let her fall too far behind and I am forever the doting, watchful, and protective husband so I am in a word, distracted. Distracted doesn’t do the trick for me when it comes to chasing the elusive endorphins that I so desperately seek. When your body is saying one thing and your mind is telling you another, it’s best to let the chemicals do their thing and if it’s an extended ride you are looking for that is more than likely going to occur if the endorphins are allowed to kick in. I haven’t quite figured out how to conjure up those mythical molecules but I do know that riding longer and harder tends to produce them when doing the opposite does not. It’s that second wind, that burst of mental and physical energy that any athlete with his or her salt, will tell you makes the difference between having a superb ride and having an otherwise decent ride or just having a ride for rides sake if that makes any sense. Nancy is better than most when it comes to giving her man his personal space so this was an easy conversation to have. Then again, such conversations in the abstract are always easy to have. I guess we’ll have to see.
I have to laugh. We were having dinner with a person who shall go unnamed and she was expressing her outrage at the fact that her bank took a whole SEVEN MINUTES to answer her telephone call the other day. It was a classic John Kerry-esque “do you know who I am” moment.” All I could think of was that she and her bank had two very different ideas about valuations and what it takes to be considered a valued customer in the eyes of this financial institution. I’m not saying that I agree with either of the two parties involved. Were I to have my druthers, I would ask that the bank respond the same way regardless of the amount of money the person held in their account. And to suggest that the bank makes a value judgment with each incoming call based on the size of the customers holdings is pure folly. Those truly deserving of that kind of attention (billionaires?) are probably not calling the main line hoping that Sally Joe is on her toes that day and dicing through incoming calls like a hot knife through butter. They have their financial advisers calling for them and I’m also guessing that they are not calling into the main switchboard. Our perturbed dining partner readily admitted that she hasn’t always been this way but didn’t go out of her way to explain why this was now and all of a sudden an issue of seemingly epic proportions. She did say that she gave them a piece of her mind so they may or may not take that to heart. You know what they say about the greasy wheel. Experiencing consternation at any age can be bad for your health so I trust this issue will wane and wither in short order and everyone can get down to the business at hand whatever that may be. “I’ll have the fried haddock tenders”, she proclaimed. “Would you like coleslaw or fries with that?”, the waitress asked.
I’d had enough and I finally took matters into my own hands. We have a hummingbird feeder outside our bedroom window where we can keep an eye on the comings and goings of the local hummingbird populations. Truth be told I think we have the same little fellas coming and going year in and year out. They migrate incredible distances twice a year so the least we can do is to see to it that they have a ready supply of food here at our home where they spend their summer months. I’ve had a good mind to photograph them or at a minimum to single out their telltale markings that identify them as unique and individual. In other words, I believe them to be the same birds that come and go each year but have yet to prove that fact. One thing I noticed this year is that the local bee population has taken a liking to the sugary syrup that oozes from the openings on the feeder and that is in direct conflict with the interests of the hummingbirds. So much so that the hummingbirds approach the feeder very reluctantly when the bees are feeding and the bees seem to be chasing off the birds when they do approach either out of competition for the food or simply because they are an irritable lot as bees can certainly be. We are much too much enamored of our hummingbird friends to see them battling for the sweet nectar we’ve prepared for them to allow this to happen. Bees be gone!
Since swatting them with a newspaper would likely knock the feeder off its perch I’ve decided to use a rather novel if not particularly humane approach to getting rid of them. Yes, we’ll call it the “Hoover” approach. I simply vacuum them off the feeder. It is easier said than done and sneaking up on them takes a certain amount of cunning but I think I have it down. When they realize that they are in the eye of a storm and facing a fate perhaps worth than death itself they cling to the feeder with all the might they can muster but the swirling and persistent suction of the machine shows them not an ounce of mercy and then they are gone. Gone into the machine as it were and never to come out (I make sure of this by sticking a sock in the end of the hose.) This is science at its best. Bees are infinitely more expendable than hummingbirds in my humble opinion. That said, I go out of my way to leave bee hives alone regardless of where they appear in and around our yard so as not to interfere with Mother Natures’ more emblematic and noble creatures as they too serve a function in the world we so fondly refer to as our own. I suspect the bees will be around long after the human race has been extinguished although the way we’re going I wouldn’t be surprised to see that our nefarious ways have gone so far as to endanger even those infinitesimally small and large creatures on terra firma including our friends, the bees. For now, that seems to be doing the trick and the hummingbirds are coming and going from the feeder in the natural order of things. As god intended you might say.
I told Nancy that she and I would have to have a “come to Jesus” discussion about biking if she were to stop working and be home full time. While we bike together on those days she has off, I do my own thing on the days she goes to work. That typically means riding longer and perhaps harder and were she to be riding with me she would soon fall behind and likely remain out of sight for the duration of the ride. I’m always mindful when I am riding with her to never let her fall too far behind and I am forever the doting, watchful, and protective husband so I am in a word, distracted. Distracted doesn’t do the trick for me when it comes to chasing the elusive endorphins that I so desperately seek. When your body is saying one thing and your mind is telling you another, it’s best to let the chemicals do their thing and if it’s an extended ride you are looking for that is more than likely going to occur if the endorphins are allowed to kick in. I haven’t quite figured out how to conjure up those mythical molecules but I do know that riding longer and harder tends to produce them when doing the opposite does not. It’s that second wind, that burst of mental and physical energy that any athlete with his or her salt, will tell you makes the difference between having a superb ride and having an otherwise decent ride or just having a ride for rides sake if that makes any sense. Nancy is better than most when it comes to giving her man his personal space so this was an easy conversation to have. Then again, such conversations in the abstract are always easy to have. I guess we’ll have to see.
I have to laugh. We were having dinner with a person who shall go unnamed and she was expressing her outrage at the fact that her bank took a whole SEVEN MINUTES to answer her telephone call the other day. It was a classic John Kerry-esque “do you know who I am” moment.” All I could think of was that she and her bank had two very different ideas about valuations and what it takes to be considered a valued customer in the eyes of this financial institution. I’m not saying that I agree with either of the two parties involved. Were I to have my druthers, I would ask that the bank respond the same way regardless of the amount of money the person held in their account. And to suggest that the bank makes a value judgment with each incoming call based on the size of the customers holdings is pure folly. Those truly deserving of that kind of attention (billionaires?) are probably not calling the main line hoping that Sally Joe is on her toes that day and dicing through incoming calls like a hot knife through butter. They have their financial advisers calling for them and I’m also guessing that they are not calling into the main switchboard. Our perturbed dining partner readily admitted that she hasn’t always been this way but didn’t go out of her way to explain why this was now and all of a sudden an issue of seemingly epic proportions. She did say that she gave them a piece of her mind so they may or may not take that to heart. You know what they say about the greasy wheel. Experiencing consternation at any age can be bad for your health so I trust this issue will wane and wither in short order and everyone can get down to the business at hand whatever that may be. “I’ll have the fried haddock tenders”, she proclaimed. “Would you like coleslaw or fries with that?”, the waitress asked.
I’d had enough and I finally took matters into my own hands. We have a hummingbird feeder outside our bedroom window where we can keep an eye on the comings and goings of the local hummingbird populations. Truth be told I think we have the same little fellas coming and going year in and year out. They migrate incredible distances twice a year so the least we can do is to see to it that they have a ready supply of food here at our home where they spend their summer months. I’ve had a good mind to photograph them or at a minimum to single out their telltale markings that identify them as unique and individual. In other words, I believe them to be the same birds that come and go each year but have yet to prove that fact. One thing I noticed this year is that the local bee population has taken a liking to the sugary syrup that oozes from the openings on the feeder and that is in direct conflict with the interests of the hummingbirds. So much so that the hummingbirds approach the feeder very reluctantly when the bees are feeding and the bees seem to be chasing off the birds when they do approach either out of competition for the food or simply because they are an irritable lot as bees can certainly be. We are much too much enamored of our hummingbird friends to see them battling for the sweet nectar we’ve prepared for them to allow this to happen. Bees be gone!
Since swatting them with a newspaper would likely knock the feeder off its perch I’ve decided to use a rather novel if not particularly humane approach to getting rid of them. Yes, we’ll call it the “Hoover” approach. I simply vacuum them off the feeder. It is easier said than done and sneaking up on them takes a certain amount of cunning but I think I have it down. When they realize that they are in the eye of a storm and facing a fate perhaps worth than death itself they cling to the feeder with all the might they can muster but the swirling and persistent suction of the machine shows them not an ounce of mercy and then they are gone. Gone into the machine as it were and never to come out (I make sure of this by sticking a sock in the end of the hose.) This is science at its best. Bees are infinitely more expendable than hummingbirds in my humble opinion. That said, I go out of my way to leave bee hives alone regardless of where they appear in and around our yard so as not to interfere with Mother Natures’ more emblematic and noble creatures as they too serve a function in the world we so fondly refer to as our own. I suspect the bees will be around long after the human race has been extinguished although the way we’re going I wouldn’t be surprised to see that our nefarious ways have gone so far as to endanger even those infinitesimally small and large creatures on terra firma including our friends, the bees. For now, that seems to be doing the trick and the hummingbirds are coming and going from the feeder in the natural order of things. As god intended you might say.