Ms Phoebe's pride

Phoebe bird

Phoebe bird

I’m not sure what it means, but Mr. Roger Troy Peterson in his Field Guide to the Birds, asserts that the Eastern Phoebe (Sayornis phoebe) has a weakness for small bridges. I think that really means that they build their nest on them, or under them, not that they just nest near them but the irony of my nesting Phoebe bird is that she chose to nest above Too’s outside light fixture – near our little bridge. The Phoebe likes to nest on sheltered ledges and niches and will build on bridges, porches, eaves and sheds.

Ms. Phoebe has produced five fine eggs. The light fixture is too close to the porch ceiling for us to just peek into the moss and mud nest so I used the hand mirror and with the help of Himself, was able to take a picture. As we go in and out, we startle her off and away and I feel sorry that she can’t sit on her eggs. I have proposed to Himself that when we have her startled off the nest, that we turn on the outside light to produce a little heat to protect our eggs. Himself doesn’t think that is probably necessary.

The Phoebe named himself as he says phoe-be or fi bree with the second note alternately higher or lower that the first. It isn’t really whistled but just spoken. Phoe-be. Phoe-be. Mr. Peterson says that the Phoebe is in the Flycatcher family and that they are not as restless as most birds but sit quite still but they do pump their tails up and down as they sit and wait to snatch up passing insects.

Last visit here, Ms. Phoebe scolded at us. She sat up in a tree somewhere and chided us, trying to shame us into vacating. This time, she has not scolded but waited patiently for us to quiet down. Then she slips back into the nest without us hearing so much as a whisper of her.

We will go to III tomorrow and leave Phoebe bird in charge.

one more thing . . .

Things fell off the shelf and down onto the metal table and range. My heart stopped. My breath held. I waited for the shattering of glass but none came. Creaaak. Creaaak. I jumped to my feet, scrambling for my glasses as my heart went from zero to 120. I stood beside the bed and waited. Creeaaak. Creeeaak. Creeaaak. For Gods Sake! It came to me that Himself was out there jacking up the corner of the cabin while I was asleep in bed! About that time, down came two or three more “pretties” from the wall. Startled out of my disbelief that someone would actually level a cabin with a sleeping person inside, I climbed up on the chair and took down all the breakables. I heard noises outside and knew that Himself was pushing a block or board under the cabin and heaved a sigh of relief. It was over. I breathed again. My heart slowed. I went and poured a cup of coffee.

Creeeaak. Creeeaak. SH__! Now he is jacking up the middle! I very precisely sat the cup of coffee in the middle of the table as tho an earthquake was imminent or as a drunken person might sit down a glass, making sure it wouldn’t spill then stood in the center of the cabin as I thought “nothing can come down and kill me here.” I waited for him to be done, to slide the blocks under the cabin wall. As I heard those welcome sounds, I let out the breath that I had been holding just as the cabin crashed back to the original position. The walls and floor boards groaned and slid slowly back into place and pans, light fixtures and pretties all rattled around again. The blocks had slipped out from under again! My heart dropped from my throat and bounced off my diaphragm. The whole cabin was going to come down around me.

I ran out on the porch. What on earth are you doing? I (probably) shrieked! Himself had a smirk about him but calmly told me he was leveling the cabin as he started in again to jack up the middle. I was angry – and speechless. I stood there on the porch debating whether it was better to be standing underdressed on the front porch in front of God and everyone or inside where I might be killed.

With the cool, morning air finally making the decision for me, I bounded back inside, shaking, quaking and furious! I threw on my clothes. I secured more objects. I paced the floor. I heard the blocks go under the cabin. I didn’t know whether to let down my guard or not. I wondered if the blocks would hold or go. I fumed and paced and stewed. Himself took his time in coming in and a good thing too. As angry as I can get, I am too quick to forget. By the time Himself came in and cooked me a good, hearty breakfast, I could almost laugh at the situation. I could almost see the humor. . .

Use it Up, Wear it Out, Make it Do or Do Without

Himself saves everything. Our new shower shelter is 1/2 pup tent from the Viet Nam era. We have packed it around for 35 years, through three states, four towns and six houses and have finally found a use for it. It is the shower "curtain" at III.

I was going to build a "stick" enclosure, 2-sided, tucked into the timber for a little privacy but as I was surveying the situation and making my plans, Himself decided to help. "Why do you even need an enclosure?" he asked. I do, I said. "Why don't we . . . this?", he said. "How about . . . that?", he asked so we compromised and strung the pup tent up between me and the world. I am satisfied for now. I will have a hot shower, a little privacy, a great view -- and finally a use for that tent! . . . the other side

A Natural

Himself is pretty funny. Should have been a comedy writer. I don't dig because I'm stubborn (or keep digging, is more accurate as anyone can start to dig but not everyone finishes). I dig because I'm a natural. I come by it honestly as my Great Grandfather Austin and his sons were ditch diggers. They were scallywags and moved all around a three or four state area but for awhile, around the turn of the 20th century, they lived near Shannon City, Iowa and hired out to dig ditches.

As it turns out, I'm glad they were ditch diggers as they were hired to do a job for George Washington Wilson, established farmer, over by Arispe. One of the Austin "boys", Robert, or RB as he was called, had his head turned by a little bit of a gal, George W.'s daughter, Mattie Jane. Great Grampa Wilson wasn't too enthused about his daughter marrying a ditch digger by the name of Austin but Mr. Wilson had 14 children and evidently Mattie had her mind made up so what was a man to do?

Robert Briggs Austin and Martha Jane Wilson were married July 5, 1907 at Creston, Iowa and also moved around alot, looking for the better life. They had five boys of their own and two daughters. Their third son, Forrest, was my dad who dug a few ditches in his lifetime. So, if it hadn't been for those Austins digging ditches for Great Grampa Wilson, I would have been someone else and wouldn't be a natural at digging. Then it would have been Himself having to do the digging as I'm sure most wives won't. Ain't he a lucky dog? . . . the other side

THE WORK HAS STARTED

04/12/2006
WE HAVE BEEN LUCKY TO HAVE SOME NICE WEATHER ON THE WEEKENDS. WE HAVE BEEN GOING TO II ON FRIDAY AFTERNOONS. WE SPEND THE NITE AT II, PUTTER AROUND, DOING SMALL THINGS THAT NEED TO BE DONE BEFORE THE SEASON REALLY START. HERSELF HAS BEEN PRACTICING AND BUILDING UP HER STANIMA FOR THE SHOPPING SEASON, WHILE I HAVE BEEN GETTING THE MOWERS READY, BATTERIES CHARGED UP AND INSTALLED, PICKING UP STICKS, ETC.
HERSELF WAS SLEEPING IN SATURDAY MORNING, AND AS I AM AN EARLY RISER, I JUST COULDN'T SIT AND DO NOTHING, SO DECIDED IT WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO TRY AND LEVEL THE CABIN. I HAD A JACK, AND SOME PIECES OF LUMBER FOR THE LEVELING. I THOUGHT I COULD DO THIS EASILY AND QUIETLY SO AS NOT TO DISTURB THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. ALL WAS GOING WELL, I JACKED THE CABIN UP ABOUT 4 INCHES AND SLIPPED THE 2X4S INTO PLACE. JUST AS I GOT IT INTO PLACE, THE JACK SLIPPED AND THE CABIN CAME CRASHING DOWN(ACCORDING TO HERSELF). I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS THAT BIG OF DEAL UNTIL I HEARD THINGS FALLING OFF THE WALL THAT HERSELF HAD HUNG. ANYWAY SHE WOKE UP TO WHAT SHE THOUGHT WAS AN EARTHQUATE.
AFTER THAT TRAUMA, WE LOADED UP AND HEADED FOR III. THE FIRST ORDER OF THE DAY ISSUED BY HERSELF WAS THAT WE WERE GOING TO SET UP HER OUTDOOR SHOWER. IT DIDN'T MATTER WHAT I HAD PLANNED. I HAVE LEARNED TO OBEY.
ANYWAY, WE TRIMMED SOME TREES AND BRUSH FOR HER SHOWER IN THE WOODS. NOW, IT MUST BE SAID, NO ONE COULD FIND US BACK IN THE SOUTH FORTY UNLESS THEY KNEW WE WERE THERE, YET SHE WANTED THIS SHOWER PLACED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TIMBER. AND THEN WE HAD TO PUT UP A SHOWER CURTAIN FOR PRIVACY. ANYWAY ITS ALL SET UP.
I THEN WENT TO WORK CLEANING UP MORE STUMPS WITH THE CHAIN SAW WHILE HERSELF WENT ON TO HER NEXT PROJECT, A NEW OUTDOOR OUTHOUSE. SHE CLEARED A PATH(AGAIN, TO THE MIDDLE OF THE TIMBER) AND PROCEEDED TO START DIGGING THE HOLE. I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT HER STUBBORNESS COMES IN HANDY SOMETIMES. SHE DOESN'T GIVE UP, DIGGING THRU THAT CLAY AND ROOTS UNTIL SHE HAS A FINE HOLE IN THE GROUND, AND I DIDN'T HAVE TO HELP!!!
THE 4-WHEEL TRAIL IS LOOKING GREAT!! IN MOST PLACES IT IS NOW WIDE ENOUGH TO GET THRU WITHOUT MUCH TROUBLE.
OUR NEIGHBOR IS TRYING TO WRANGLE AN ACRE OF LAND FROM US. SINCE IT IS LOCATED RIGHT NEXT TO HIS NEW HOUSE, I REALLY DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT. HE SEEMS TO BE A RIGHT NICE GUY, ALWAYS WILLING TO OFFER HELP OR WHATEVER WE NEED, BUT ALSO SEEMS TO BE A BIT OF A BULL SHOOTER.
WE NOW HAVE FRESH WATER AT III. I BROKE DOWN AND HAD THE RURAL WATER INSTALL A METER. FRESH WATER WAS THE MAIN TROUBLE WE HAD AT III. NOW I CAN WASH THE MOWERS AND 4 WHEELER ONCE IN A WHILE.
THIS SUMMER, I PLAN ON NOT DOING ANYMORE CLEARING OF LAND, OTHERWISE I WILL SPEND ALL MY TIME ON THE MOWER. ITS PROBABLY GOING TO TAKE 3-4 HOURS NOW. THE TRAILS SHOULD ONLY NEED MOWED 2 OR 3 TIMES. ONCE THEY ARE ESTABLISHED, HOPEFULLY I WON'T NEED TO MOW THEM ANYMORE.

Himself and the mule

Spring is not yet in full bloom at III. Himself has been out working on the trails. Here, he had to pull down a tree that was blocking one of the trails.

Awakening

We have been to III two weeks ago and again, this weekend. Some spring rain and warm sunshine have brought green to the pastures and lawns enroute but our own small patch at III is still clothed in winter colors -- browns, beiges and yellows. The drab oak leaves still cling to the trees and overall, it doesn't appear that spring has made an appearance here.

However, if you hike through the timber and take time to look, kneel down and sweep the leaves away, you see the first signs. Small ferns stick their noses up through the carpet of leaves, moss is mounded, green and plush and other plants, unnamed by me, are showing shoots of green.

III is awakening . . . the other side