I used to love smorgasbords. The possibilities are endless, too many foods to try. But the stomach and the eyes were always willing to try. Now that I am on a restricted low carb diet, they don’t have the same appear. I can’t eat half or most of the foods. I can’t even drink much beer. Luckily wine and whiskey are still on the approved list.
So today I finally got Bob’s Beer. Yes, BEER with capital letters. It’s been a process to retrieve. Multiple Cale’s to UPS, notices, missing signatures, and eventually a trip to the UPS warehouse. Sothis is special beer — a birthday present from his three daughters. Every month for the next six months, he gets a special delivery of 12 beers — 4 new types — every month. And since he’s gone on vacation, the text message said “I got your beers and drank them all. They were delicious. Sorry, should have saved one for you.”
It’s only fair, he abandoned me and left for a camping trip with Kate, Nate, and Crystal. I stay home, clean the kitchen, and feed the bluebirds. Yep, we have our second bluebird family for the season right outside in a great bluebird box. So earlier this spring, we had a bluebird couple that moved into the neighborhood and had a set of kids. 4 baby birds survived, there may have been a fifth that got caught by one of the cats. Or it was some other kind of bird. The babies grew up and the parents decided to have a second family. YEAH.
Now Bob is feeding these birds mealworms on a daily basis. And the male seems to know that hopping around on a branch in front of Bob means food. Then THE SHOW BEGINS. It’s fun to watch. All four babies, mom, and dad, are feeding the second set of kidlets. They all know that Tall Man means food, especially when he puts a new bowl on top of the bird box. The little birds cheep loudly “Me, ME, MEEEEEE!” I love watching them get food as the six other birds ferry food from the bowl to the hole in the box.
So what does feeding bluebirds have to do with cats you might ask? Well, those cats of mine are prodigious hunters and would love nothing more than catching a bluebird doing cleanup from an evening feed. Clean up is where the birds go down to the ground and pick up all those lovely dried mealworms dropped during the feeding frenzy. Charlie and Sophie have been having a great hunting season. Rats, gophers, mice, lizards and birds; they probably have changed the local ecosystem with their successful hunts. So we try to keep them inside while the blue birds are eating.
Speaking of hunting, Charlie sort of got a baby crow a few weeks ago. Bob went outside because he hard low cawing cawing cawing from the driveway. Went outside to see Charlie had caught a baby crow. And all the other crows came to help. Charlie was holding on to this crow while being pinned under a bush. Every time Charlie moved the other crows would dive bomb at him. Ouch. Charlie retreated, one hand hooked onto the baby crow. Bob came, rescued the baby, and brought an indignant Charlie inside. But at least he still had his hair. And every time Charlie went outside for the next few days, he got attacked by the elder crows protecting the baby. I am pleased to say the baby probably survived and has left the immediate area.
Well dishes await. Bob was not up to his usual standards of a home beautiful this morning when he left. Dishes in the sink — horrors. Floors needing to be swept — awful. Extra bags left in the hall — yuck. And even a birthday present for Josh on the counter that needs to be wrapped and sent off to him. So I guess I had better start the dishwasher before going to be.