Birds and Squirrels and Little Jimmy Dickens

Between continuing to check on my mom, whose recent illness has caused cognitive issues and make me cautious about leaving her on her own, and deadlines at work, I've found myself without a plan for this Friday post.

There isn't much in the way of bird-y news, but you can be sure that what little there is will be captured in blurry photos and captioned to death.

First, the finches, demonstrating how they blend into the trees (no wonder we never see them once the leaves come out):

Mr. Finch is on the right. The leaves belong to a tree that grew up beside the deck steps and was half lopped off by my husband last fall, with the intention of finishing the job this spring. Well, those plans have been scuppered by the birds, for whom the remains of the tree provide a good waiting area when lining up at the feeder. This is why we can't have a nice yard. Do I care? Not really. Anyway, this little half-a-tree is the same kind as the trees that line the back edge of our property. Ergo, invisible finches after the leaves make an appearance.

And here are the pigeons who came a-calling (because I flung (flinged? flang?) handfuls of seeds over the yard in an attempt to feed the birds who like to eat from the ground):

You would be correct if you were thinking our grass isn't grass. Two years ago we had a record dry and hot summer and it killed our lawn. We are still repairing it, in pieces. This is not one of those pieces. This is WEED HEAVEN.

Here's one of the doves who coo at dawn and dusk, a most gentle and calming serenade to the beginning and end of the day:

More weeds. And sticks. Donkey hasn't gotten around to picking up the yard yet. Work deadlines and Mom-Duty, have I mentioned those already? I think this is a dove. For all I know, it could be another pigeon. We'll say it's a dove for now. My research is not going well.

Last, but certainly not least, our visiting squirrel (who I hope doesn't become our house squirrel):

He knew I was LOOKING at him from the deck, but he was hoping I wasn't SEEING him. He stayed as still as a rock until I started to turn away. Then he high-tailed it away through the trees, leaping from slender branch to slender branch, about 8 to 10 feet off the ground. I had an "aha" moment as I realized where the word "high-tailed" probably came from. His tail was straight up as he scurried along.

So, that's the report from Donkey-land, where the temperature and humidity have taken a giant step into "uncomfortably warm" the last two days, and neither of them even said "Mother May I" ... so if I'm not around on Monday you'll know I've melted into a puddle of goo until the weather moderates.

Just kidding. It would take more than that to keep me from blogging. I'm having far too much fun.

Have a good weekend, everyone. As the old song by Little Jimmy Dickens goes, "May the bird of paradise fly up your nose."

Well, maybe not up your nose. But close enough for you to enjoy its plumage :)