Lessons from an Strange Critter

   Last week, I tried to salvage some "baby" azalea bushes from the huge ones flanking the lane.  Those have overgrown the area and need to be trimmed so any rooted limbs were pulled and promptly put in five gallon buckets of water with intentions of transplanting as soon as possible.  Well, a week came and went.  The young bushes are still sitting in water but, as standing water is prone to do, the buckets became a magnet for mosquitoes hunting for a place to lay eggs.  Periodically, it was necessary to empty the buckets and put fresh water around the roots. Yesterday when I did this, not only were lots of "wiggle-tails" (mosquito larvae) found, there was a huge larva of some sort.  I was taken aback at the sight of this thing!  For some reason, anything that has a body that is clear enough to see the inner organs becomes unsettling, plus, this thing had a long "stinger-like" thing on its tail!!  It was weird! Research time.

  This rather startling looking critter is not that threatening.  It is called a "rattail maggot" for obvious reasons. The critter is about 2 1/2 inches in length and is the larva of a dronefly or hoverfly (both names for the same fly).  That ominous looking "stinger" is how the critter breathes!  It is used as sort of a snorkel, of sorts.  (Told you it was weird!) The critter poses no threat to humans as it does not bite nor sting.  It merely goes about pollinating plants while being mistaken as a bee or biting fly of some sort.  Thankfully, the odd looking larva was saved and can live to adulthood.  

  There are two thing that I gathered from this encounter.  One...sometimes clarity or being overly clear can be unnerving.  It is not always pertinent to "lay everything on the table" (especially on social media).  Other people do not need to be filled in on every aspect of your life.  Some things are best left unsaid and unseen.  Two...it is easy to be mislead by appearances, not only with critters, but with people.  Sometimes, those with seemingly perfect lives are struggling.  Be kind to all.

Too Much Like Pop

  The drear has returned.  The morning started with heavy clouds and a light drizzly rain.  It was just enough to make hiking miserable so instead of my usual rounds, I headed to the greenhouse.  I had to tidy that up a bit so I could find a place for the few trays of tiny tomato and pepper plants.  I made the mistake of planting early.  Mom always warned Pop of the "Easter freeze" but he never listened either.  Growing up on the farm it was not uncommon to see us scrambling to cover the new plants in the field.  I should have learned.  At least, I have the greenhouse with 24 tomatoes and just as many peppers whereas Pop had hundreds of each set in the fields.

  This morning, the sunrise didn't happen and all I could find of interest was a lone mottled duck sitting on the pier.  This confused me a bit because these usually are in pairs.  It made me wonder if the female was already laying eggs somewhere nearby.  Perhaps the ducks were not prepared for the "Easter freeze" either.  They were probably just as confused by the 80 degree days lately.  Time for spring!

  Hopefully, this cold spell will not hurt the fruit trees that are in full bloom nor the spring flowers that are shooting out buds.  Also, hopefully, this IS our "Easter freeze" and there will not be another come next month.  For that...we shall have to wait and see and, for that...I may be scrambling to cover plants in the garden and not just moving trays of seedlings.  I will never learn.  I am too much like Pop.

Tiny but Amazing! Yellow Woodsorrel

   It seems as if every tiny bloom is catching my eye these days.  Perhaps it is a subconscious yearning for spring or maybe it is pure boredom with being isolated for so very long but I find I am drawn to the tiny plants.  It could be that I am feeling small and insignificant and so can relate to the wee things in nature.  Still, the wildflowers of the area are the focus of my spare time, as of late.  Today as Son and I were planting lemon trees, I found a tiny bloom beneath the plum tree.  Ahh, wood sorrel!  What a grand find!  I pointed out my discovery to Son and tried to explain why I was almost giddy.  He tolerates my silliness for which I am highly grateful.  

  The finding of the common wood sorrel was not an earth-shaking thing but did bring a smile.  I tried to recall what Granddad had told me about the plant.  (As the youngest of five, I was often in my grandparents' care as Mom had her hands full with the farm duties and the other four siblings.  To entertain me, Granddad taught me so many useful things about plants, critters, woodworking, home repairs, toy making, etc.  You name it and he covered it!)  Since I am aging, I do not totally depend on the teachings but do check things to reinforce the lessons.  More oft than not, Granddad was correct.  The common wood sorrel is entirely edible...roots, stalk, leaves, blooms and seeds!  The plant also has a myriad of medicinal uses, too.  Folk medicine says that yellow wood sorrel is useful in treating stomach issues, sore throats and mouth ulcers.  I wonder??

  One of the quotes I remember Granddad often saying was "For every illness, there is a cure somewhere in nature."  It seems he knew his stuff!  As I am delving more and more into the plants of our area, I am learning that those often overlooked plants are the most amazing.  It has occurred to me that perhaps I should forgo the showy garden centers and simply encourage what grows naturally.

Getting It Straight!

   Every now and again, I have to stop and put things back in order of priority.  It is not hard for me to get so hung up on "what has to be done" that I lose sight of what "needs to be done".  Yep, those are two vastly different things.  Everyday chores, work around the place, home repairs, yard cleanup, errand running, food preservation...those HAVE to be done.  Taking time for myself...that NEEDS to be done.  My needs get pushed aside for the "have tos".  It takes a bit of refocusing and a lot of determination to get back to being me.

  Lately, the journey of "me" has taken full swing.  The daily chores are still done but I have put a limit on the other things.  This gives me time in my day to steer into enjoyable endeavors. Crafting, painting, crocheting and sewing are all in the ready stages, the Clue Hunt on the Bayou is taking shape for this October and my hikes have taken on a new interest.  Each bloom, critter or even shadow now commands my full attention.

  

  Today, I made a point on really studying the seed pod of the Hibiscus Mutabilis (better known as Confederate Rose or Cotton Rose).  From the stiff outer shell to the soft hairs to the tiny pellet seeds, I moved with great interest.  It is amazing how intricately created this pod is.  The crispness of the outer shell is a far cry from the fragile, delicate petals of the bloom and the seeds are tiny compared to the size that the shrub can get.  For twenty minutes, I perused the beauty of a single pod.  Each section was examined.  

  Life is getting so much easier and happier with this refocusing.  It is weird how things like an illness can shake all the emotions into a turmoil and cause a person to forego what is best for what the brain sees as urgent.  I have had to let it go and get back to me.  THAT is the best place to be.

Henbit...and a bit of knowledge.

  While out tending the vegetable garden, I came across a small plant in the spinach row.  My first instinct was to pull the "weed" from the row and keep the spinach neat and clean.  As my hand closed around the plant, I had second thoughts.  Even though it is deemed as a "weed", I felt that I should leave it grow.  There was nothing "special" about the plant but, when I started remembering what Granddaddy taught me, the "specialness" was there.  He had taught me many things of survival and the plant was one of the best lessons.

  The small plant is called Henbit simply because chickens seem to love eating it.  That, in itself, should tell you something.  (Chickens are not stupid, even though, we take advantage of them everyday.  Keep in mind, it is easy to control and keep captive a gentle animal.)  Anyway, back to Henbit.  This mundane, overlooked, often maligned little plant could actually save a life.  The plant is edible and highly nutritious.  Why in the world do we label it as a weed and discard it while keeping the spinach?  Granted spinach is nutritional so, perhaps, a better comparison would be lettuce.  Why is lettuce such a large part of our diet?  Lettuce does nothing to support our nutritional needs.  Henbit, however, is high in iron, vitamin C, fiber and contains a fair amount of vitamin K.  Henbit shall stay in my garden!  In fact, I am beginning to ponder how I can incorporate it into more meals.

  Now comes the true fact about Henbit and other overlooked edible plants.  With all of the people up in arms about the fix this fine nation is in, would it not be a grand idea for more of us to delve into learning what will help us survive?  Sitting in an ivory tower and spreading fear with false information, hate with condemnation and widespread angst with conspiracy theories does not help one iota.  If our economy is truly about to crash, those who depend on what is stocked on the shelves or served in fast food places will be in for a rude awakening.   Having all the money in the world will not help you, if there is nothing available.  We shall only survive as a "people" by learning and helping each other.   History does, indeed, repeat itself.  Those who lived through the Great Depression are no longer here to help if we need them.  It will entirely be up to us to use our own abilities to survive and rebuild.  

  Not that the lowly Henbit plant will be our saving grace but, rather, knowledge of survival on a whole will.  (Henbit and its redeeming values just stirred the pot of thoughts in my brain.)  Survival meaning...knowing how to grow and preserve food, how to sew or mend clothes, how to entertain ourselves without electronics, how to mentally stay alert and healthy, how to help others, how to help ourselves, how to not be dependent on others for the comforts of life.  If the economy is going to come crashing down as our naysayers are touting, then whining and complaining is all going to be for naught.  Do something productive.  Hiding behind a computer screen is not an effective method of fixing things.  Ingenuity, resourcefulness, perseverance, kindness and KNOWLEDGE...those will pull us through the tough times...always have...always will.  (Thanks, Granddaddy, for teaching me.  As an old lady, myself, I still draw upon the lessons taught so many years ago.)

Lessons from the Herons

   I have often said that not many folks would want to live as I do.  I prefer to not get caught up in the hullabaloo of the modern world.  Yes, I have modern convenience galore but I never wish to be totally dependent on them.  It is my belief that if things ever hit the fan and our current way of life is no more, many folks would not know how to survive.  I want to, at least, have a going chance!  So, I do things, learn things and live things so that nothing is going to be a surprise.  One of the things that has helped me tremendously is watching the critters of the Bayou.  If they can survive the harshness, then perhaps, there is a lesson to be learned...or many lessons, for that matter. 

  This morning was drizzly, not too cold but chilly and windy.  That would not daunt me.  A hike is a daily ritual so a little inclement weather would not stand in the way.  This is when I clear my mind and prepare to face the day no matter what is thrown at me.  In the early morning light, the only other critters out were the birds.  My choice of viewing took a turn to the shorebirds as they hunted breakfast.  The birds knew that they would have to have full bellies to survive the bitter cold that is to fall upon us this evening and linger around for the next few days.  A lovely Snowy Egret stalked tiny minnows in the shallows.  The slight rain did not deter it from its task.  Nor did those raindrops hamper the fishing of the Great Blue Heron.  As do most herons, these two were slowly...very slowly stalking their prey.  They move through the waters with grace and then the head plunges and the sharp bill snaps closed.  Success!  One fish to start the meal.  Neither bird seemed to notice the other as they waded down the shore line.  Both fully preparing for what was to come.

  Folks, this is how we should be.  We should be intent on preparing for ourselves and not be bickering with each other.  If we minded our own business and took care of ourselves, we would be far better.  Life would be much simpler. There are great lessons to be learned and great deeds to be done.  Live happy. 

He Is A Rascal

   For those who wish not to read another tale of "Bat, the Bayou Prince Cat", I suggest you not go any further.  At the moment, the cat is probably the most interesting thing during my day.  Let me just say, "He is a handful."  From the get-go, I knew having this cat around was going to be a bit different.  First, this is the first male cat to actually be "ours".  There are/have been a number of feral tomcats on the property but none that have actually been housecats.  Bat is a first, in that aspect.  Second, I am accustomed to old cats...not rascally kitten/wannabe cats.  Bat is at that awkward stage where he thinks he is boss but gets put in his place quite often by anything he challenges whether it be one of the ferals or even a bumblebee.  He has not figured out that a little tact can go a long way when dealing with what life hands you.  That said, I should add that he has graduated from being strictly indoors.  During the day, he has free roaming of the Bayou.  This was needed so he could run off a bit of energy before he tore down the house.

  Bat's adventures have led him into some strange places.  He loves to climb so any tree is considered a playground but, lately, he has discovered the pier.  This is all good except Bat has not learned about mud nor water.  The silly cat seems to think if he wishes to "walk" on something then, it should be walkable.  While on the pier the other morning, I had to keep reprimanding him.  He so wanted to chase the bull minnows in the tidepools.  If he ever does make that mistake, he will most likely become mired in the mud.  He will be in a fine fix then if the tide starts to rise before I find him.  

  Obviously, Bat is not a true Bayou Cat, yet.  He has a long way to go to learn the ins and outs of this life.  Things will not be easy for him if he does not take the time to learn the lessons slowly instead of jumping in headlong.  Oh, Bat...you are a rascal, indeed.

"It's Ok."

   You know, folks, you never stop learning.  I do not mean school learning from books and teachers but "real" learning where you figure out life.  Not that I have anything against teachers.  In my eyes, they are lay the groundwork for future generations. But, learning to live a decent life and to be able to accept what is thrown at you without becoming a whiner, is priceless.

  A few days ago, Hurricane Ida skirted just to our west.  The poor folks of Louisiana got slammed.  We were fortunate enough to have very little damage.  The one thing that could be considered a major hit was Son's car.  A huge oak limb smacked the rear windshield and literally sent it into glass confetti.  Well, that happened early in the storm.  We all heard it but had no idea what had happened.  Hurricanes are full of explained noises.  The one thing we did get from the hurricane is rain.  In fact, we got over 14 inches of rain overnight.  You can imagine what Son's car looked like by morning.  When we discovered the broken glass, I told him how sorry I was that it happened.  He looked at me, put his arm around my shoulders and said "It's ok.  We are safe."  That was it.  That was the entire reaction to his car being broken and filled with water.

  When I spoke of learning, I am not too proud to say that I have learned much from my kids.  This experience with the damage and Son's reaction, taught me so many things that it is hard to choose which is the most important.  If asked, I would have to say it was a lesson in knowing just what matters.  Son did not fret over the car but was appreciative of the fact that we were all safe.  He knows material things can be replaced and should not be of our highest concern. It was a good reminder of what we all say but find hard to commit to when faced with calamity.  I am learning...I am learning.

Lessons From A Cardinal

   Early this morning, I was greeted by the same male cardinal that comes every morning.  The bird seems to wait for me to bring out the birdseed before calling to its mate.  For the past month or so, the cardinal would even call to me if I was late with his breakfast.  Always as soon was the seed was scattered, he called for his ladylove.  She would come and they would dine together.

  For the past two days, she has not come.  In fact, his calling has even gotten less.  I worried at first then I realized that she is nesting and cannot come.  I decided to watch his actions.  The lovely bird flew down to the seed before I even had the lid back on the bucket.  He was highly anxious to get to the seeds before the other birds.  I watched as he picked up a few seeds, cracked and ate them.  Then, he picked up a seed, cracked it and flew off to the camellia bush with it.  It was only a few moments before he was back and repeated the process.  Ahh, Daddy Cardinals are the best!  He was actually taking seeds back to Mama Cardinal on the nest!  The sweet deed was repeated for quite some time.  

  I was astounded by this act of caring in the critter world.  If a mere bird can be so considerate, so loving and so generous, why can't people?  The more I watch the critters, the less I care to associate with most people.  Perhaps a cardinal could give life lessons to us all.

Its A Neighborly Thing

   A while back, I mentioned how the color orange seems to be tied to a lot of things during fall.  Leaves, pumpkins, the moon, persimmons, etc. all are related to fall in one way or another.  This afternoon, I noticed yet another...orange...or oranges in this case.  The citrus trees are starting to show the ripening of the fruit.  In another week or so, we will have more citrus fruit than we can use. The excess will be carefully picked, wiped clean and boxed to bring to our elderly friends.  A lot of them remember growing citrus trees in their yards and a sampling of the fruit brings a lot of smiles...both theirs and ours.  Sharing the bounty from our gardens is something that I learned from growing up on the farm.  Pop sold his crops but if he found someone in need, he never hesitated to load up the old truck with bushels of produce and share it.  He often would bring enough for a family to can for the winter.  It was/is the neighborly thing to do. 

  Since the trees are so heavily laden with fruit, Son had to build props for under most of the limbs.  Had he not done so, there was a huge chance that the trees would have broken by this time.  Come January, all of the citrus trees will need to be deeply pruned to prevent this from happening again.  A good pruning helps the trees to remain healthy.  Pruning, fertilizing and carefully watching for mildew or black spot is all done before the next buds show.  

  Today, I started collecting boxes to be used in sharing the oranges and making my list of names so I will not forget anyone. Once again, folks, it is the neighborly thing to do.  In this day and time, it seems that greed and neglect has become the norm and helping others has gone the wayside.  Be generous, folks, be kind.

On His Own

   Well, it was bound to happen and now it has.  It is time to buck up to the times and get on with life.  Well, at least, the little bird needs to go about his business of being a bird.  The little cardinal that was coming to the feeders with Mom and Dad Cardinal has now been officially booted from the nest.  He is on his own and will have to start "adulting" if he is going to make it.  Mom and Dad are not going to be there for handouts any longer.  The little fellow was taught where to find food and water and how to find shelter.  It is up to him.

  In the avian world, life can be tough on little ones.  Once the parent birds have taught their brood the basics of survival, they literally give them the boot.  In fact, this being a young male, he will most likely be chased from the territory eventually.  Right now, he is chased from the feeders if the adults wish to eat.  Life is not easy for fledglings that are accustomed to being fed or, at least, led to food.  Once parent birds are ready to nest again, the fledglings are out!

  This little one has learned its lessons well.  He comes to the birdseed and, more oft than not, feeds below the plants.  He knows that the local hawk could easily swoop down and grasp him.  Hopefully, that will not be the case and this little cutie can grow to be a handsome red fellow like his dad!  Good luck, Little One!

Hurricanes, Petunias and Pop

  A friend recently told me that it was refreshing to listen to me babble since I seem to be able to find at least some small bit of good in just about anything.  I replied that it was for my sanity.  If I, like most people now, only see and spread the bad, this old world is a goner from my standpoint.  According to even a lot of my family members...everything is bad and they have no problem stirring the pot by posting stuff (even things not true because they are too lazy to verify) on social media.  This merely gives them a sense of self importance as obviously, there is nothing else to occupy their time.  Methinks they need a hobby of some sort other than trying to get folks riled. 

   But, back to my original statement of how I tend to look for blessings instead of curses.  I was out watering the gardens when a lone petunia bobbed its head sweetly at me.  "Good morning, beautiful!" I said.  I figured flowers, at least, are not troublemakers so having a conversation with one is a good thing.  The visit was nice but the dialog seemed to be a bit one-sided.  However!  However, that tiny petunia sure made me think of how blessed I am.  

  Years ago, Hurricane Katrina just about devastated the entire Mississippi Coast and that included my little Bayou.  The tidal surge covered everything in sight and wormed its way into the Little Bayou House.  Winds rattled and shook the house until I thought sure we were soon going to be on a roller-coaster ride northward.  The seemingly endless storm gave us all a renewed look at how precious life really is and how it should not be wasted.  After the winds subsided and the waters receded, the place was in such disarray that we were in shock for days...weeks...months.  We had no running water, no electricity, no way of exiting the Bayou area...nothing for two months.  The place had been ravaged so what did we do?  We pulled up our bootstraps and set to work  Around here, you do not wait on handouts or go around expecting help from anyone.  It does not happen.  Starting at the house and working outward, we cleared the ten foot deep piles of debris from against the house until finally we had a meager yard!  Oh, happy day!  

  It was after clearing a bit that I began to notice tiny plants sprouting where not even a sprig of grass remained.  Watermelon plants!  Cantaloupe plants!  Tomatoes!  Squash!  Beans!  The yard was virtually a huge garden!  Seeds washed in from parts unknown were now sprouting and flourishing in the yard!  The Good Lord was providing food for those in need!  We were able to share our bounty with those who came to the Bayou to ask for a meal.  We had plenty.  Then hundreds of flowers started blooming...everywhere!  Our yard and my brothers' yards were a sea of purples, reds, yellows and pinks! Those were given as food for the spirit!  It was an amazing incident that will not soon be forgotten.

 While the vegetables and many of the flowers were seasonal and never appeared again, the little petunia was a remnant of the blessings of that year.  Now, it serves as a reminder that out of devastation, beauty can appear.  It is there.  The little volunteer petunias show up each spring and earn a place of glory in the gardens.  To me, it is only fitting that the petunia was chosen to be representative of the glorious Hurricane Garden.  Pop always loved his petunias and had just this kind in his gardens.  His guidance still floods through in the form or memories.  "Always look for the good.  It is there.  Sometimes you have to wipe away the grime to find it, though."

Oh, to be a Forest Elf!

  Have you ever had one of those nights where the brain just would not stop working?  Last night, mine was in overdrive and with all that active thinking going one inside my head, there was no chance of the body resting.  Had I been here by myself, I would have gotten up and worked on one of the million or so projects that seemed so simple at 2 am.  Today, those very same projects seemed far more difficult.  Whether the simplicity of last night was a figment of the overactive brain or whether the lack of sleep made doing anything much harder today is yet to be seen.  No sleep makes for a long, long day.  I say "if I was here by myself", because if I start major chores in the middle of the night, those poor,  "sleep-deprived" menfolk are liable to complain. (A bit of pure sarcasm there, folks, as men can sleep through a freight train thundering through the living room. The complaining might be a real thing, however.) So, I suffer in silence until I see the eastern horizon starting to get that faint glow.  Morning is on its way!  Yep, about 4:30 am, I was on the pier.  The billion things that were in a frenetic state in the brain during the night suddenly flew away on the gentle breeze.  Peace, at last.  

  A fine, sliver of a moon hung in the sky just above where the sun would soon be rising.  That moon was shining brightly even though it was tiny.  It made me realize that my insignificant self could actually be pretty important.  Life has a way of battering folks in the head and making them lose all reality of their self-worth.  Lately, with all of the hullabaloo happening in the world, I felt about as tiny as a forest elf.  Now as much as I would love to be a forest elf and live amongst the mosses and ferns, they are a wee folk and I have great things to do!  It is better that I try to be like that moon and "shine on"!  Oh, wait a cotton-pickin' minute!  The moon is in its waning stage.  Not good!  In a couple of days, I would just fade away. I would be nothing but darkness!  I would not be here! There wouldn't be much shining then. Hmmm...I wonder how hard it is to become a forest elf?  I could be an elf and still do great things, right?  Plus, it might be pretty fun!

  

The Loving Couple

  For any of you going through life's trials, sometimes it pays to take a look outside.  As Pop used to say, "People could learn a lot from nature if they would only take the time to really study what is going on around them."  Pop was a smart man.  Nature does give life lessons for free on a daily basis.  All that is required is that you show up for class and pay attention.  You won't be tested, you won't be graded and you will not get a "degree" but I guarantee that you will learn a lot.  Personally, I find that a solution of how to handle most "problems" can be handed to me simply by taking a stroll around the hillside.  That "Bayou Magic" always has an answer.

  This morning's sunrise was completely blocked by fog once again.  While most folks fuss about the weather, I find fog to be to my liking.  Of course, if I had to drive in it, my attitude would surely change to where I do NOT like it.  But, I don't so I do...nuff said.  The morning meanderings took me through woods to the swamp.  Even though, I could hear my bird friends, nary a one could be seen through the drippiness of the fog.  It took me to come back between the grape arbor and the greenhouse before any critters consented to be seen.  A pair of mourning doves sat in the black gum tree.  Both were huddled against the pea-soup thick fog.  The male watched my every move while she preened.  He was guarding his ladylove as she flicked droplets of water from her feathers. Their closeness warmed the heart and blocked out the chill that was starting to envelop me.  This is how each loving couple should be.  The male bird is protective of his ladylove and she is steadfast in her devotion to him.  

  Most mourning doves mate for life.  They both make the (weak and wobbly) nest, both brood the eggs and both feed the hatchlings.  The chicks are called squabs and are fed "pigeon's milk" or "crop milk".  Both parents are capable of producing this as it is created in the crop from the digested food of the parents. Even though it is called "milk", it more resembles yellowish cottage cheese. Mourning doves are the epitome of how a family should be.  They start as a loving couple, raise their broods and remain a loving couple!  Folks, if there is any question, this is how it should be!

Lessons From The Bayou

  It is a rare time that the pier is not in constant use to catch food for the folks of the Little Bayou House and those who come to visit.  Lately, however, the weather has not be considerate enough to allow much fishing.  If there is not a stiff north wind blowing the tide far out from the pier, clouds cover the sky and rains empty upon the Bayou.  Thankfully, during better weather, we stockpile enough fish, shrimp and crabs to tide us over through inclement weather.  

  Today was one of those rainy days.  Although predicted, there were no torrential downpours but a drizzly rain kept me indoors most of the day.  A quick trip to the pier now and again was all that was in order.  On one such trip, a thought entered the mind.  How sad that the crab traps sit empty on the pier even though crabs were wandering about in search of an easy meal.  The crab traps can sit through rain without us having to tend them so it would seemingly be an ideal situation.  Nope...that north wind will leave them high and dry.   If this happens, any crabs inside would surely die and I am not about to let that happen.  There are strict rules regarding things like this.  Around here, if you kill something, you had better make use of it in some way.  

  The thought about the crabs and not killing things evoked a memory from years ago.  A trio of teenagers came to the Bayou to visit Son.  As usual, they wound up on the pier fishing.  I was happy to supply fishing gear, bait and time.  Son came back to the house after a bit to do some chores and left his friends on the pier.  A couple of hours later, I meandered down to check their catch.  The three fellows proudly showed me an ice chest with about two dozen croakers in it.  "Wow!  That is great!" I exclaimed "You will eat good tonight!"  All three boys looked at me in astonishment.  "Oh, we were not going to eat them...just catch them."  Huh?  Not happening, my friends!  I quickly reminded them of the rules of the pier that they agreed to follow and told them that they would, indeed, clean those fish and eat them.  "We cannot.  We do not know how to clean fish." a chorus of voices followed my statement.  Needless to say, those three were quickly plied with fillet knives and a lesson on cleaning fish.  Once they managed to chop (literally) their way through the fish, they were mighty proud but then asked me what should they do with the fish since their moms would not cook them.  "Fry them yourselves." I said.  Well, that seemed to present another problem because nary a one of these teenagers knew a thing about cooking.  I was appalled, to say the least, and immediately told them that a cooking lesson was in order.  "Up to the house, boys. You are going to cook your first meal."

  That said, we all headed to the kitchen where I showed them how to wash their fish, prepare the seasoning, heat the oil and fry fish.  Son came in to help with teaching his buddies on preparing a few side dishes to go along with their catch.  Afterward, we all sat down to a hearty meal and some happy conversation.  The boys were proud of their accomplishments that day and needless to say, they never wasted another fish from that point.  When any of them come back "home", they are quick to remind me of that day and how they learned a lot of lessons from coming to the Bayou.

A Near Drowning

  Late this afternoon, Mark suggested we meander about the hillside.  It was the perfect afternoon for that leisurely stroll since the temperature was not too high and there was a lovely southwest wind making it even more comfortable.  We started, of course, at the pier.  There, I spied what first appeared to be a duck in distress.  Then...maybe it was a cormorant.  Or...perhaps a large gull??  This was bewildering, to say the least.  Since the bird was off in the distance a bit and it kept going under water, I was just not sure what it was but I could tell it was not doing well.  With the small skiff on shore, there was not much we could do to help.  We watched and after a few moments, the bird managed to take flight...almost.  It fell back into the water but immediately tried to fly again.  This time, it used all its strength and made it to my brother's pier and landed on a post.  The bird was not any of the aforementioned fowl but rather an osprey.  This confused me as the ospreys are usually expert fliers.

  After a moment, the bird took off to the back of the Bayou where there is a dead pine tree that is a favorite roosting spot of the ospreys.  I told Mark we had to go check on our friend.  Once we neared the pine, I could see the bird trying to preen its feathers.  It was soaked!!  Poor bird!   I eased nearer and nearer fully expecting the bird to show some distaste for my presence.  It did not.  So, I sat on the old oyster bench and started taking photos.  I was only a mere twenty feet from the old dead pine and not much further from the osprey.  The treetop had long fallen leaving a short stob of only about twenty feet so my view of the bird was quite good.  It was at this time I realized that this was a juvenile osprey perhaps of the most recent nesting.  Obviously, its flying skills are not perfected and a simple dive nearly killed it.  The bird had nearly drowned.

  It did not take long for the bird to relax enough to carry on with its task of getting the feathers in order.  The osprey shook, flexed and stretched.  With each gust of wind, it spread its wings wide and let the air fluff the feathers.  Using its long, curved beak, it laid feathers back in place.  It almost seemed after a while that the bird was literally putting on a show for me!  After about a half hour and a hundred or so photos, I decided to leave the bird in peace and escape the mosquitoes that were gnawing on my arms and face.  Hopefully, the osprey will be alright after its terrifying experience of near drowning.  Take care, Little Osprey.  I am rooting for you!  You will get better with this flying and diving.  See you around!

Better Hone Those Hiding Skills, Squirrel!

  Sometimes the critters of the Bayou tickle me.  Of course, I am easily amused (so says Son) but animals can do some of the cutest things.   The adorable antics are expected from our pets but when wild animals start putting on shows for you, there is an element of surprise.

  Both Mr. PJ and Ms. Nycto have the inability to "hide".  They have not mastered the art of playing hide and seek.  Mr. PJ has long played the game with me but still has not fined tuned his hiding skills.  The dog will hide his face behind a tree and expect me not to find him.  Well...he is a large dog.  Hiding the face does not hide the body.  The cat is the same way.  Yesterday, she hid her face behind a chair but her entire, fluffy body sat in the open.  Silly, Nycto!  I could NEVER find you like that!  Right...right.

  Then, there are the squirrels that do the exact same thing.  Several of the gray squirrels in the yard have no clue of stealth.  Their hiding abilities rate right along with the dog's and cat's.  It is amazing that they are still alive with the hawks that would love to dine on squirrel.  Just yesterday as I was cutting back some more of the roses, a young squirrel sat just above me on a branch in the old black gum tree.  It obviously had the idea that I could not see it since a tiny twig blocked its vision of me.  Goofy squirrel!  I could probably reach up and knock you off the branch if I so desired!  You are within arm's reach and that twig is not obscuring my vision...only yours!  The young squirrels should learn a few life lessons before the hawks become active in feeding their young.   It could be a matter of life or death.

Just A Little To the Right

  While wandering the hillside with the old dog, one has plenty of time to ponder things.  Since movement has to be kept at a snail's pace with rest stops about every forty feet, there is not much to be a distraction.  In fact, I have to "find" things to keep the brain from becoming bored.  The early morning hikes at least give me a glimpse of what the day has in store.  The sun peeking over the pines on the far side of the Bayou can let me know if it is to be clear or rainy.  That sun also gives me a view that never fails to astound.

  This morning, Mr. PJ decided he had to go out before the sun was high in the sky.  Our walk took us down near the marsh edge.  As he sniffed for the "perfect spot", the sunrise pulled my attention.  The only way that I can view the eastern horizon from this area is through a gap between trees.  Looking across the marsh, it occurred to me that from the right angle two pine trees appeared to be one.  Move slightly to the side and a small sliver of sunlight could be seen between the trees.  

  This sight started me thinking of how a lot of what we see can be deceiving to the eye.  It pays to look at things from all angles before making a judgment of what things actually are.  Life is funny that way.  There is always more than one view...one angle...one side to every story....or, in this case, tree.  

Ok, so they bite

  It seems that I always have to find out things the hard way.  Never once has anything stayed in the head without a physical reminder to go along with it.  Sometimes it takes more than once!  Take this morning, for instance.  I have dealt with critters all of my life.  Growing up on a farm, you are exposed to just about every critter alive both domesticated and wild.  No problem except for the fact that critters defend themselves (and some are just downright mean.)  Growing up, I was bitten by all sorts of critters and lived to tell the tale. I have had rat snake bites, black widow spider bites, bat bites, otter bites (yes, an otter did bite me), cat bites, dog bites, bird bites and any number of insect stings and bites.  I came through them all fine.   (Note here, the otter and one cat died shortly after biting me so I garnered the reputation of being poisonous!  Biters beware!) \

  Years ago, I was bitten by a rather large centipede.  I remember it was quite painful.  That rascal came in on some firewood and decided to go for the juggler vein!  I received a nasty bite to the neck and it left me in pain for hours!  Yep, it seems I would learn.  Nope, I had forgotten all about that pesky centipede and its ability to render intense pain.  This morning, it all came flashing back like some big, bright boomerang!  Smack!  Duh!  Ouch!

  As I was preparing to do a load of laundry, a squiggly centipede caught my eye.  It had wiggled its way under the back door to reside inside.  Nope, not happening, Centipede!  Not being one to kill things needlessly (except roaches!  I hate roaches!  And termites...yeah, termites are bad.  And Eastern Lubber Grasshoppers...eww! Sorry for getting off track.), I slipped my hand down and under the critter.  I was going to gently pick him up, cradle him softly until I got outside then release him in the woodpile.  Sorry!  That sucker is now squished!  He died but not before he bit me!  Geez!  The thumb swelled to twice its normally chubby size and throbbed for over an hour!

  Perhaps now that I have been viciously reminded of the biting power of centipedes, I will think twice about being so kind to them.  No more being the nice, old lady that gently removes the critters from the house.  They will die by the very hand that once was extended in kindness!  

Too Bad...

  The fight to survive is an ongoing struggle.  The critters of the Bayou fight on a daily basis to protect themselves and their young, find food and find shelter.  Their will to live is amazing.  It carries them through without fail.  In all my years, I have yet to find one wild critter to just give up and waste away.  It is not in their nature.  Humans are the only ones who bemoan the state of their life.  People whine far too much to suit me.  It seems to be the popular thing to blame everyone for any misfortune instead working to better the situation.  Critters do not have this option.  No one is going to listen anyway and if a critter sits there long enough, it will become lunch for a larger critter.  That is the way of life.   

  Not only is this struggle in the critter world, it is also in the plant world.  Inclement weather, poor soil and that good old thing called "progress" takes its toll on plants.  No one thinks much about it, however.  For some strange reason, I do.  I take notice of the successes and failures of both the flora and fauna around here.  I figure that someday it just may come in handy.  

  This afternoon, I headed out to the back of the house to grab satsuma off of the tree.  I love these things as a snack and having them just a few steps away from the house is rather handy.  This year, I fully did not expect to have any fruit, whatsoever.  The few days of winter weather that plummeted the temperatures to the low teens wreaked havoc on the citrus trees.  The trees immediately went into self preservation mode.  Every leaf dropped and branches died back almost to the trunk.  The trees went dormant which made me think we had lost the whole bunch.  Son kept telling me to have patience and not cut the trees.  I did.  He was right.  This spring, a few leaves budded out but the trees bloomed prolifically.  To my surprise, those blooms set fruit on the satsuma trees!  

  That will to live and that struggle to survive was evident here.  The normally almost seed free satsumas are loaded with seeds this year.  The trees are trying to reproduce so that life would continue.  While the citrus trees look ridiculous with so few leaves and so many satsumas, they are beautiful to me!  Under our constant care, almost the entire grove of trees are at least surviving.  It appears that we only lost one tree completely.  The others are struggling but living.  And to think...through it all, I never heard one whine about how bad life is.  Too bad people cannot take notice and emulate nature.  The world would be a far better place.  I am sure glad I live down in the Bayou so I do not have to deal with it.