From Grief to Life
Today’s prompt asks us to explain our blog’s title. If you don’t already know how the name of my blog came to be Lifelessons while my blog address is Grieflessons, go HERE
From Grief to Life
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Monthly Archives: June 2015
Baby Bird Saga IV
Well, a few updates. When my friend went down to check on Lenny, he had flown the nest! It was almost impossible to find him as he was in a fenced-in area full of plants and vines and there was no room to enter–just to try to look. We couldn’t even reach past the chicken wire that held up the vines that obscured the heating unit. Nonetheless, we both looked for what added up to an hour, I would imagine. Finally, we just had to give up, but I stayed down in the hammock, hoping the parents would fly over and Lenny would somehow extricate himself.
When my friend came home, she took my place in the hammock and a half hour or so later I heard her call out that she needed help. She had spied Lenny and was able to reach in and extract him from his jungle prison. Back to the big rock, where lo and behold, his parents spotted him and his mother came and fed him one more time. Then it was into his cage and into the house before a COLOSSAL rainstorm hit. Buckets of water, crashing lightning and thunder that sounded like it was cracking the world open. So glad our baby bird was not out in that!
Later I discovered two interesting facts on the internet. #1. that just because we share a common last name, Lenny Dykstra does not serve as a good role model to name anyone after, even a bird. So, I’m up for suggestions about what to rename him. #2. that baby bird is most probably not a vermillion flycatcher but rather a house finch. He looks exactly like the image online and male house finches do get rosy coloring around the head and chest, which accounts for the rosier birds we’ve seen accompanying the dull females.
So, very early Monday morning, my house guest departs leaving my family two creatures larger. Hopefully the parent finches will continue to feed their baby and I’ll take over at night. I’ve done some reading about the diet of finches and will provide sunflower and thistle seeds to attract the parents and give them a close by place to feed so hopefully they’ll continue to feed him. Looks like I’ll be spending a lot of time in my hammock in the lower garden, since the rock is a familiar feeding spot for both baby and birth parents.
Morrie, in the meantime, is leaving a pathway of chaos in the front garden: pots tipped over, plants ripped out by the roots, little round stones from a mocajete spread over the terrace. Diego is complicit in the chasing games that created some of this disorder, but with the baby bird feeding in back, I dare not put the dogs there. I fear they don’t understand about inter-species family fealty.
Now it is 11:22 PM. Morrie is curled up beside me in bed, I can hear strains of banda music from the town down below. It is the festival for the town’s namesake, St. John the Baptist, who has done a good job of baptizing us all this day and for the week preceding it. The bird formerly known as Lenny is literally asleep with his head tucked under his wing and I am about to do the same. Your mission, if you should choose to accept it, is to help me think up a new name for baby bird. Sweet dreams to all, or, more likely, good morning.
Baby Bird Sagas III
Has it been just 27 hours since Morrie brought the baby bird in? So many gerrymandered solutions to keeping him alive in that time. (For the first two episodes of this saga, go HERE) This morning led to this one. Since Lenny (our makeshift name for the baby bird. It’s explained in an earlier chapter of the saga) has taken to hopping and jumping with great vigor, yesterday’s solutions wouldn’t work. I resorted to building a sort of fortress on top of the table that I thought he couldn’t get out of, but the parent birds could get to him to feed him. The heater, set on low, would keep him warm as it had during the night which he spent in a covered cage in the spare bedroom, away from marauding dogs.
That should have worked. Right? Wrong. Within minutes, he had hopped up on the back of one of the chairs and fluttered to the stone floor of the terrace and was headed for the cover of the ferns!
OK. Plan 2. I sopped all the remaining water out of the otherwise empty hot tub, plugged up all the vents, drains and bubblers with masking tape, and put baby bird in the bottom. (I later moved him up to the ledge–easier for his mom and dad to see him and get to him.) Mom and Dad flew overhead, but I was unable to see if they fed him anything. Lenny is that little brown blob up on the hot tub bench level.
Here’s a better view of him. I was so relieved to find him awake this morning. He looks better than yesterday, don’t you think? He seemed more content in the hot tub, but when my friend got home, she thought she had a better idea.
Her idea was to put him on the grass. He seemed to enjoy this, but there were so many potential dangers and hiding places.
Then came the flying lessons, but alas, although he is very good at fluttering, without tail feathers, Lenny has no lift or rudder. The grass furnished a soft landing, though. Do birds think? If the parents were watching , I wonder what they thought.
She then put him on the same rock as yesterday. “Be careful. He’ll hop away and he’s fast today,” I warned, backseat driving. About a half hour later, she called up from babysitting duty in the hammock of the gazebo. ‘”I need your help!” The good news was that the parents had fed him seven times since he’d been down there. Bad news was that afterwards Lenny had hopped down from his perch and scampered across the lawn and hidden somewhere within a cave created by two huge rocks surrounded by dense plants. We looked for awhile before I was sure I heard him cheeping from the deep recess between the rocks. My friend started to reach in and then remembered scorpions!
Finally, however, he hopped out from behind the rocks on the other side and we captured him again. With the skies starting to become overcast, we had run out of solutions. Bring him back in and take him outside each day for feeding? We could see the mother bird ripping material from an old nest in the huge cactus tree and flying off with it. If she was building a new nest, there would soon be new babies. Would she forget this one? We called Animal Rescue and they suggested we do what I’d thought we should do in the beginning. Build him a nest and put it in a sheltered tree for the parents to find him.
Building the nest was no problem. A plastic storage dish with holes poked into the bottom, stuffed with stripped bark and other fibers wound into a sort of nest, covered with fresh grass.
My friend found the perfect spot. The air intake of my water heater for the hot tub (long out of disservice) was under a teja awning. The opening was the exact size of the plastic “nest” container so it could be tucked securely down into it .
Lenny settled down immediately. No more cheeping or flapping or scrambling or running. We are hoping the parent birds have found him. Wind is rising and it is getting overcast. What will win out? Will we let nature take its course or go rescue him for the night? Wildlife rescue says wild baby birds will not survive in captivity, although some Youtube videos have shown otherwise. Problem is, he will not eat anything we’ve prepared–even the recipes suggested by the bird rescuers on Youtube. So, for now, this is the end of our saga. Perhaps I’ll go down just once to peek to see how he is doing, though. And perhaps put on a jacket and go hang out in the gazebo to see if the parent birds are coming around.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/festivus-for-the-rest-of-us/
Today’s WordPress writing prompt: Festivus for the Rest of Us.: You have been named supreme ruler of the universe. Your first order of business is creating and instituting a holiday or festival in your honor. What day of the year is your holiday? What special events will take place? Describe YOU DAY in as great a detail as you can muster: the special foods we’ll consume, the decorations we’ll use…everything.
A Holiday Most Willy-Nilly
My namesake day would be a dilly.
Simply not run-of-the-milly.
For the concert, I’d have Willie
and resurrect Milli Vanilli.
Kind of music? Rock-a-Billy.
For refreshments, I’d serve Chili.
Though the terrain would be most hilly,
they’d travel over rock-and-rilly
for races of both stud and filly,
and poets, fleet of tongue and quilly,
reading poems both sage and silly.
WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge: Rainbow
Living in Mexico, I think I had an unfair advantage in this prompt! The entire country is a rainbow!
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/roy-g-biv/
Baby Bird Saga II
Baby Bird Saga II
If you haven’t read the first short installment of the fledgling story, go HERE.
The fledgling rescued from Morrie’s mouth this morning. He took it upstairs in the pouring rain and was holding the entire little fellow inside his mouth, uninjured.
Well, we have determined that our baby bird is a vermillion flycatcher. How do we know? Long story. We took him into town and my friend went and bought syringes and powdered canary food. The bird came along in an ornamental cage my friend Patti gave me when she moved back to the states years ago. Lenny (Lenny Dykstra, for you baseball fans) came along and got very chirpy and active in the car.
When we got home, we put the cage in the open-sided gazebo, hoping the parent birds would come find him and feed him through the wires of the cage. When this didn’t happen, we opened the door to the cage and he promptly jumped out and into the bushes below the raised gazebo. My friend found him and we put him back in the cage. Now I tried to feed him several concoctions suggested on the internet, but he didn’t eat much. He did drink a few drops of water from a syringe.
Next strategy, we placed him on a rock in the garden. When we did this, 4 vermillion flycatchers, two males and two females, started flying in the air above him and roosting on the tree limbs around him. Eventually, one female rested on the rock with him several times. When she left, he jumped down into the grass from the foot-high rock and started hopping down the sidewalk until we lost sight of him from the gazebo. The four birds continued to swoop. A relief since we had had him for hours in the house during the rain this morning and then in town when we went to see the vet.
Not knowing where Morrie had found him this morning, we had no real idea where the nest might have been that he fell out of. Eventually, Stephanie went to try to find him in the bushes next to the sidewalk, but did not spot him. As she went into the house, I went in search and found him on the spiral walkway formed by the edge of the bodega wall. He either flew up–which seemed an impossibility–or hopped all the way around the end of the wall and then up it–a distance of at least 30 feet. He was at the top, which meant a ten inch hop up to the terrace. He kept looking up as though he was trying to get up courage to jump, but her never did.
At this point the parents were not in view and it was starting to sprinkle, so I put him back in the cage. We put water and food inside, but he seems unabe to eat by himself and earlier attempts to feed him with a syringe didn’t seem to work very well, so we put the cage in the mild afternoon sunlight and waited for the parents to discover him once more.
The mother bird soon came and made several visits, perched atop the cage. She didn’t make any attempts to feed him, however, until I opened the cage door and the baby hopped out onto the table. Since then, I’ve seen her feed him twice.
My friend prepared our third concoction of mashed egg yolk, milk, water and a bit of dried canary powder. If the mom doesn’t come back again, we’ll try feeding him this new concoction, either on the tip of a toothpick or from a syringe. We are by no means experts but so far our entire day has been taken up with trying to keep this fella alive.
He’s now fluffed up in a ball on the tablecloth of the terrace table, waiting for him mom to come with supper. So are we!
Oh my God! Adventure. Three adults soaring over him trying to get him to fly. He actually jumped off the table and hopped rapidly over to the side of the pool and was on its very rim
When we rescued him.I put him on top of the cage so his next jump will be onto the table top instead of the terrace. Now he is craning his neck, looking for his family. I sent my friend to her room before she has a nervous breakdown and I’m keeping watch from the living room. Talk about biology lessons!!!
When I tried to put him in the cage, he started trying to squeeze through the bars and was pacing, pacing, very distressed, so he’s back on top chirping for his folks again, but they haven’t put in another appearance for a long while.
Soon the sun will go down and we’ll all go inside…Because it is the rainy season and we have no idea where the nest is he fell from and because wild animals and cats abound here, there is no safe place to put him outside, Lenny will accompany us to stay safe until his next feeding and flying lesson tomorrow, when we hope his folks will return again.
Continuing Education
It’s true that school is great for teaching gerunds, nouns and clauses.
Also for the how-to-do’s, the whens and the becauses.
And so I don’t regret my years in university
where I learned about the human mind and its diversity.
Couplets, sonnets, iambs–their knowledge served me well.
Chaucer taught me how to travel, Dante?– to avoid Hell.
Will Shakespeare gave me standards of wit to try to mimic.
And modern poets formed my taste from Oliver to Simic
But where I really found a classroom that appealed to me
was after school was over, when I was finally free.
Backpacking was geography: islands, mainlands, seas.
And I learned my geology rock-hunting on my knees.
I learn a little bit of life from everyone I meet.
The art of speech in barrooms, diplomacy in the street.
Biology from baby birds fallen from the nest,
and taught to fly from towel racks, their wings put to the test.
All the art I ever studied simply came from looking.
Geometry in midnight skies, chemistry in cooking.
And though the internet gives facts in every form and guise,
It’s life that serves us best because it’s life that makes us wise.
As I was writing this poem, my house guest came down with this sodden baby bird, rescued from Morrie who had the entire fledgling in his mouth. It appears not to be hurt, so it is possible Morrie saved it when it was washed out of its nest by torrential rains this morning. Remembering earlier rescued birds, I of course made use of it in my poem. He’s now nestled in towels in a small cage with a gentle heater blowing him dry.
To read more about the continuing saga of the baby bird, go HERE.
Daily Prompt: In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fifteen Credits.” If you’re in school, are you enjoying your classes? If you’re out of school, what do you miss about it — or are you glad those days are over?
The Dirtiest Trade Deal You’ve Never Even Heard Of
This is pretty scary.
Have you heard? The Obama Administration is pushing for a controversial “free trade” agreement that has been negotiated behind closed doors. This agreement is between the United States and 11 other countries – Australia, Brunei, Canada, Chile, Japan, Malaysia, Mexico, New Zealand, Peru, Singapore, and Vietnam.
Here a video with a simple explanation. You can read more about it by clicking here.
Two: Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Two
Two by Two
I love the juxtaposition of the volcano and small hill in front, the clouds echoed by the vegetation, the dormant small volcano with it’s habitation contrasted to the live and active volcano behind. Even the colors are in contrast..
The rabbit god presides over tequila and his consort here represents the dual prototypes of the feminine. These two represent much of the mythology of Mexico.
http://ceenphotography.com/2015/06/16/cees-fun-foto-challenge-two-very-different-items/
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Choose Your Adventure.” Write a story or post with an open ending and let your readers invent the conclusion.
Judgement
Borne, then born.
Clothed, fed, shorn.
Housed and cuddled,
Brain filled and muddled,
Schooled, polished, allowed to roam,
To make the world into a home.
Later settled, now sedate.
Content to let my life abate.
Find worlds inside and there abide,
To let what happens be my guide.
To try to live with less precision.
To fear less the world’s derision.
Why so hard to be oneself?
Easier when on the shelf.
Now here I pull my world around me,
Memories and dreams surround me.
My solitude a crystal jar
that lets me ponder from afar
The current of my life, its tide,
To reach without and pull inside
The things that help me try to see
Just where my life has taken me.
I contemplate and sometimes share
The truths that I’ve discovered there.
You come to read, you judge and . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Please complete the above poem, choosing a two-syllable last word for the line I’ve left uncompleted and then furnishing a rhyming last line. If you want to create your own last two lines, just substitute another line entirely for “You come ro read, you judge and . . . .” and then write a rhyming last line as well. Have fun!!!
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 