Saturday, 28 May 2011
We own a charcoal chimney. When I first began using this device to assist in firing up the grill, I didn’t know what to do with the chimney once I was done with it. A few times, I set it on the deck, but the heat of the chimney burned holes in our all-weather carpeting. Later, I tried setting it on the table and on the deck’s ledge, but this just burned the wood. Finally, I decided the best thing to do with the super-hot chimney was to set it atop the air conditioning unit that juts out from our living room and overhangs onto the deck area.
It turns out that an empty charcoal chimney, high above the ground, yet protected by the roof of the apartment building, and within five feet of a never-ending supply of food, is an absolutely perfect place to start a family. If you’re a small bird, that is.
A pair of birds nested in the chimney last summer, too, but I’m not sure they successfully reproduced, as I never heard the chirps of baby birds and the nest appeared to be vacated too soon to raise the next generation from egg to fledgling.
Here’s the male bird, working real hard to bring food to his children:
And here is the loving couple dining together:
Here is the best shot I can get of the nest, without disturbing the goings-on inside. Notice the sticks jutting out – they birds have created a long, narrow nest, about 6 inches in diameter and 14 inches deep. I’m not sure if they feel these are the ideal dimensions for their summer home, or if they are just “making due” (what with the housing market the way it is).
Today I managed to record the baby bird doing what they do best: crying for mom or dad. Here’s the audio: Chirping like crazy.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Unable to make it to Owen’s birthday party a couple weeks ago (thereby breaking their perfect attendance record), my sister and her husband stopped by for a couple of hours today to give Owen their gift.
I asked my sister where and when we planned to meet for the Gay Pride Festival on the 26th of next month. She expressed surprise that I planned to join up with her and her husband, but I told her, “Well, you told our dad we were going, right?” She laughed and said she had.
Here are the details: ten days ago, when my Uncle died, my sister decided it would be a good time to engage in a lengthy theological debate with my father. At one point during the conversation, in what was evidently and attempt to show my dad how “wicked” his children had become, my sister pointed out that she was going to Gay Pride this year and that “James and Jennifer are coming, too.” This is a marked difference between my sister and me: for while I try to avoid mention of anything I know will upset my Witness parents (i.e., pretty much everything but my job and the weather), my sister will go out of her way to talk about such stuff. This makes it all the more funny to me that my family shuns me but not my sister but, as my wife has noted on several occasions, my logical refutation of their worldview surely scares the shit out of them, while my sister’s citation of recent nights bar-hopping and getting tattoos simply makes them think, “Man, see what happens when we leave Jehovah?” Of course, my dad replied that he doesn’t hate gay people, he just hates their actions.
Anyway…
So we’re gonna hook up with my sister and brother-in-law to attend the Pride Parade and then scope out the festivities (such festivities are, similar to the State Fair, like walking around a mall, only worse). My sister said she was considering joining in with the Dykes on Bikes group in the parade. She said she declined, though, as she is too scared to take her bike on the highway (another pointed difference from her brother: I think I’d be more scared to drive around those Minnecrapolis streets than a wide, spacious interstate). I told her we could all hop in my car and join up with the Queers in Cavaliers, but none of us were certain there was such a group.