Of Bald Eagles and Cow Paddies

Ian was working up the hill in the garden, pulling up last year's plastic, and I was raking leaves around the RV park area when Ian started calling my name. Awright, I figured, is this one of those times when he calls me away from what I'm doing to do something for him that he could very well have done himself, but since he's doing something already, he can't be interrupted, but it's OK to interrupt me. Or, is it really going to be worth my while to hike up to where he is? Something in his voice told me the latter, so I dropped the rake and quickly made my way up to where he was. "There, up on those two tall trees, right there! Two bald eagles!" Sure enough, they had circled over Ian (were they waiting for him to unearth a worm, or did they think he was the worm?), then chose to perch on the tippity-tops of two tall pines. One was all brown, but the other had the famous white head. (We were told by the park owner that they don't get the white head 'til they're about 5 years old). I went and got the binoculars out of the truck and when I got back, they were still there. We watched for a little while as they swayed with the wind and turned their heads around, probably just watching out for themselves. The owners said it wasn't long ago that there were 10 bald eagles flying overhead and perching in their trees.

A little while later, one of the boys (goes by the nickname of Toad) asked me to walk with him to his grandmother's house to get his bike. It would be a welcome break, and his grandmother lives in the B&B which I hadn't seen yet, so was curious. Once we got there, the brother that goes by the nickname of Maggot joined us, apparently just to tease Toad. As we started walking back, though, Maggot pointed to a flattened pile on the dirt road, and as he reached to pick it up, asked if I knew what it was. "Eywww, of course," said I. "It's a cow paddy." "No," said he as he reached his arm behind his shoulder, then let the paddy fly out of his hand. "It's a frisbee." No laughing, no "ha, ha," just pure country truth. This wasn't the first time in the last few days that I've thought of that old children's story about the city mouse who visits its country mouse cousin.

We also observed some turkeys strutting their stuff on the property, so asked Blair the owner about them. He said turkeys that grow wild like that have only dark meat, and yes, one of them will grace their table on Thanksgiving. How do they catch them? With a 22 through the eye. Why dont' they leave the property? As long as the family keeps throwing out food for them, they won't roam. (Maybe I should whisper in their ears what's about to happen in six months!)

Blair also told us about how the southerners (anyone from the lower 48) come up to live in Alaska and think there are no restrictions any more. They let their dogs run lose, which only allows them to join up with other previously domesticated dogs, and chase the moose into the roads, which in turn get hit by the cars. So far this year there have been nearly 150 killed on the roads in the Kenai Peninsual alone! These undisciplined dogs also attack the smaller wildlife, so word is getting around that if there's a dog on your property that isn't yours, it's free game to shoot. I had a little talk with Mac this evening just in case he should think that now he's in Alaska, he can live free and wild like a wild dog from Borneo. Hopefully, he took the hint.

It was a bit windy again today and about 50 degrees, or a little more. Even though normally that would be cold, it was perfect for doing the yard work Ian and I were doing. Well, we'll see what tomorrow brings - if it's worth repeating, I'll be back!