Eat more cookies

Well, we’re flooded out again (or is it still?) in Stillwater this morning. I was up and out the door listening to “Car Talk” on the radio and hoping to photograph some herons at the Teal Ridge Wetland, one of my favorite local haunts. But street after street was barricaded ahead of standing water on the roadway - I couldn’t get there.

The same old-timers who last year said they had no memory of it ever being that dry are now saying they have no memory of it ever being this wet.

Check out this update from the Oklahoma Mesonet weather monitoring dude:

“Looking at all the Mesonet stations, Stillwater is in ‘first place’ for rainfall for the last 30-day and 60-day periods, and trails only Minco by 0.16 of an inch for rainfall during the last 90-day period,” said J.D. Carlson, OSU Mesonet researcher and meteorologist with the department of biosystems and agricultural engineering.

Stillwater stands – or floats – at 31.71 inches of total rainfall for the 2007 calendar year, according to data available through June 20. From 1971-2000, the average annual rainfall for Stillwater was 36.71 inches.

“To put that in perspective, if Stillwater were to experience its current level of rainfall to date over the whole year, local residents would be dealing with more than 63 inches of precipitation,” Carlson said.

Monthly rainfall totals to date for Stillwater are: January, 1.34 inches; February, 0.42 inches; March, 5.46 inches; April, 4.15 inches; May, 10.43 inches; and June, 9.91 inches as of June 20.

Well, we’ve had about 6″ more rain since the 20th, so I think we’re officially over our average annual. Form here on out, we’re above average with every drop of rain that falls from July through December.

Is this a problem? No one is sunburned, our lawns look fantastic, we’re using less energy on air conditioning, and the cows are growing fat on fresh, green grass. But, in addition to the obvious flooding (and the traffic accidents and sewage back-ups that go with it), what else has been affected?

*mosquitos - by the pound, everywhere.

*entire wheat fields have been lost to mold all over western Oklahoma.

*Ginger won’t wet on wet grass - she’s driving us crazy!

*big trees are starting to topple because the ground is just too soupy to support their weight.

*the rainwater in my wheelbarrow has been colonized by a diving beetle.

*and as for the birds (the real story), some of them are really having a tough go of it:

This may have been a disastrous year for Louisiana Waterthrushes. We haven’t found a single fledgling, or even a single nest that we can confirm made it to the nestling stage. In contrast, we keep encountering birds that appear to be in early stages of nesting, which is odd for birds that were back on their territories by late March. Of course, we’ve got NO evidence of breeding anywhere right now - they’re done.

Those little creeks (along whose banks the birds nest) swell quickly in these flooding rains, and easily wash out nests that are only a foot or two above the water.

We found a waterthrush nest (female incubating) in late May that contained two eggs. Egg stage in late May/June usually means disturbance to a previous attempt, as double brooding in waterthrushes is quite rare. These birds start off the breeding season with 4-6 egg clutches; subsequent attempts usually include progressively smaller clutches. To be down to just two eggs in a clutch suggests to me that this female was on at least a third attempt this season, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a fourth.

So we’re about ready for the old Oklahoma right now: the one that’s hot as an oven and windy as all get-out. I’m sure that one will be back with a vengeance at some point . . .

http://www.unity08.com/

Gore/Powell 08? I could vote for that. But if Colbert gets elected, he better name me Secretary of the Interior!

Whew! I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard of one these dang things being de-fused. Great work, London cops! We should give props as well to the dude who called in the suspicious behavior of the guy he saw crash a car and then run like hell away from it. I hope they catch this creep and deliver him quickly to his date with those heavenly virgins he’s probably counting on . . .

But the real reason I’m writing is to ask: Did you see the car? It was a freakin’ Mercedes! These people are way too well funded. You’d think they’d waste a Ford Pinto or something - those were pre-adapted to being car bombs anyway. But this strikes me as rather foreboding that these terrorist types are making bombs out of $50k cars . . .

I’m struggling to understand this whole immigration thing. Maybe some folks out there can help me wrap my head around it.

*Why do they come here? We have jobs to fill. Last time I checked, the unemployment rate in this country was pretty darn low. Anyone reading this note who’d like to give up their current position to be a migrant farm worker, raise your hand. (crickets chirping) That’s what I thought.

*Why do they come here illegally? There must be something in the process of legal immigration that’s broken to make people risk their lives to get here illegally. Where is this bottleneck, and why don’t I ever hear the political pundits discuss this? If all 12 million illegal immigrants had come in legally, would this even be an issue? I suspect it would with a lot of people, ’cause I think a lot of the rhetoric on this issue is pure xenophobic nonsense.

*Spend billions of dollars to build a wall? Great plan. Very well conceived. Why don’t we build a fort too while we’re at it. Construction of this wall will employ hundreds of illegal immigrants over the next few years. Plus, as Penn and Teller illustrated on their TV show “Bullsh*t”, a two-man team can get through (or under or over) the wall with a pair of tin snips in under a minute’s time. Boy, do I feel secure! (And don’t even get me started on the ecological ramifications of this stupid wall.)

*Round ‘em up, send ‘em home, and make them apply for legal status? And this accomplishes what, exactly? What are we looking for, Mexican birth certificates from these people? I wonder how hard it is to get a fake ID in Mexico . . . Plus, while we’re waiting for these people to come back, all our produce will be rotting on the vine. Again, great plan.

*Amnesty, a four-letter word? Why not just create a system for the twelve-freakin’ million illegals in this country now to register with the gov’t and rely on ourselves to keep tabs on these people in the US? Give them a “one strike and you’re deported” policy for a felony crime. Then let’s crack down on employers to make it a seriously risky venture to employ illegals. Once the promise of jobs for illegals dries up, so too will the flood of them across the border.We can learn a lot from the way kids solve intractable problems - there is profound wisdom in a “do-over” sometimes.

After living and working at Penn State for nine years, we can usually spot a PSU logo from a mile away. I noticed a Penn State T-shirt on a young lady at the gym the other day, but missed a chance to introduce myself. This morning she was back, and in another Penn State T-shirt. I approached her, and check out this weird conversation we had:

me: “Hi, did you go to Penn State?”

her: “Oh. Yes I did. I was in Zoology.”

me: “When did you graduate?”

her: “2001.”

me: “Oh, then we overlapped!”

her: “Yes I know - I had a class with you.”

Come again?! Talk about small worlds. Yes, this woman took my “Mammalogy” class in 2001 (she got a B+), and she just graduated from Vet School here at OSU. I was bowled over that I actually (at least at one time) knew this woman: Penn State graduates about 10,000 people every year. I was also proud that one of my students “made good” by succeeding in Vet School. She, however, was completely nonchalant - in her defense, she was breathing pretty heavily after her workout, and probably not prepared for in depth conversation.

Now I’m curious, though. Did she already know that I was here at OSU? We’ve now overlapped at OSU for several years. Had she already spotted me in the gym and recognized me as a former professor, or did she figure it out as soon as I approached her? I wonder how many other people like this - people I’ve known in the past - walk past me every day, without the benefit of a T-shirt or hat to clue me in . . .

Last week, while in the midst of negotiations with the guy at Toyota, we took a break and attended Stillwater’s first Celtic Festival. It was great! There were many Scottish clans promoting clan membership, selling tartans, and celebrating their history. Several burly guys in kilts (and a couple of burly women) spent their time outside in the mud tossing cabers and hurling hammers about. Some shepherds held sheepdog demonstrations (we missed those). Vendors sold music, jewelry, and kischy “Irish stuff.” There were two stages with live music and dancing, and Katie literally jumped (off my lap) at the chance to go and dance “The Walls of Limerick” with one of the dance troops. Outside, delicious Celtric treats like corn dogs, Indian tacos, and deep fried ding-dongs were going fast. (This was Oklahoma, after all. What did you expect? Fried cod and mutton stew?)

I had a great chat with a big dude in a kilt who attracted a lot of attention at his table with his big sword - a 5′ tall Claymore that felt like it weighed 10 pounds. He explained that this kind of sword was designed to be carried by foot soldiers and used to “neutralize” combatants on horseback. Coooooooool.

But then he said something that really ticked me off. He motioned to another guy walking by from a different clan and in a different tartan kilt. Apparently, this guy’s family was sold out by the other guy’s family in a “Braveheart”-style double cross a few hundred years ago. To this day, the two clans DO NOT get along. He described it as “just like what’s going on in Iraq with the Sunnis and the Shia.” It dawned on me that he was right. Back in the day, there was no unified “Scotland” or “Ireland” - these territories were comprised of smaller territories and kingdoms, and it took political will (and a lot of bloodshed) to unite the people of different clans into multi-kingdom nations.

So that was cool, that these people who are really into the clan thing keep that history alive. The uncool part was how he could equate his feelings toward the guy in the other tartan to “Sunni and Shia” and not see how utterly pointless it was for him to maintain his animocity in the year 2007 in Stillwater, Oklahoma. There’s preserving your history and there’s recognizing that you’re actually not living in the medieval Scottish highlands. You’re a dude with a Harley from Oklahoma who likes to grow his hair long and show off his sword. Get over yourself and learn to get along with people! If we can’t get Americans to get along because of something that happened in Scotland centuries ago, then what hope do we have of anything positive coming out of this mess in Iraq?

A new car for us!

We need it to last ten years.

Twenty-seventeen . . .

We’ve bought the kids an expensive new toy! Sterling, the silver Toyota RAV-4 has joined our family:

(click to see it bigger)

They think it’s fabulous - their seats fold almost flat and they can roll around and play all kinds of games in it. And with the weather we’ve been having it’s can be the only place to play outside the house.

- Tracy

Yesterday was the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist and the deacon at our church was preaching his homily. So far, so good. But the deacon starts talking about how John died for speaking the truth. Okay, we’re with you; what truth do you mean? How Jesus said to love our neighbors and help the poor, etc., etc.? No. Apparently the truth, the only truth, is the sanctity of all life and that a marriage is the union of a man and a woman.

Okay, now he’s gone too far. Tim and I don’t think Jesus said anything about these issues. I’m not even going into any of the sanctity of life stuff, but personally I don’t care who gets married to whom (is that grammatically correct?). I just think that marriage should be for consenting adults. I don’t even really care about bigamy, as long as all parties involved know about it and agree to it.

Then this morning I was thinking about this in the shower and I realized that I think the age of consent for marriage is off. If people can’t be trusted to drink until they are 21, then maybe we shouldn’t let them get married until then. Or vote, or drive, or any of the important and dangerous things we allow people to do.

Okay, now I feel better!

- Tracy

Growing up in New York, I longed to see and hear the Yellow-breasted Chat, a beautiful bird of southern thickets known more for its unusual song as its brilliant yellow-orange breast. While some chats can be found in New York, and even points farther north, their real stronghold is in the southeastern US. That’s where one can stand in one spot and be serenaded by several chats simultaneously.

I first got my chance with chats in the summer of 1990, when I found them near the southern tip of Virginia’s Eastern Shore. Chats on the Eastern Shore use woodland edge, old fields, and shrubby wax myrtle thickets for breeding, sometimes right up to the edge of the salt marsh. My first chat I only heard: these birds are usually very difficult to see despite their bright colors. Their song, however, is distinctive. It starts like the call of a Fish Crow from far away:

“Wah!”

pause

“Chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck.”

pause

“Wah!”

pause

(whistled) “Too - too - too-too-tootootootoo.”

They keep doing these phrases, and a whole bunch more I haven’t transcribed, morning, noon, and night. The result, expecially when multiple chats are singing, is a delicious cacaphony of chirps, chucks, whistles, chatters, and, of course “wahs”, all delivered with the tell-tale pause between phrases.

But chats go one better when they’re really excited. Apparently it’s not enough to sing non-stop with vigor and puff out one’s golden breast. Sometimes a chat just has to add a flight disply into the mix. To do this, the bird flies out from its protected thickets and climbs about 50 - 100 feet in the air, all the while pumping its fully extended wings in an exaggerated flapping that seems much too slow to keep the bird aloft. Of course, the singing continues during this part. Then the bird sets his wings outstretched, and gracefully wafts back down to its perch, looking for all the world like a big butterfly sailing on a gentle breeze.

Seeing this display for the first time all those years ago convinced me that these birds have panache! But, for every 10 chats I encounter, I probably only hit 1 on a good day, that makes it feel like doing the aerial display.

I’ve now seen lots of chats since 1990, but it’s still a thrill when I do. The other day, I was slogging through a clearcut pine plantation with trees about 10-15 feet tall. Their branches slapped me in the face, and the blackberries growing beneath them left me with dozens of little punctures in the legs. But there in that stifling heat in an Oklahoma clearcut were chats - about one per acre. They were singing like mad from the cover of the pines, and a few were doing the flight display too. At one point, with a chat just overhead that was blocked from my view, I heard a weird and low “pup” “pup” “pup” sound. Then it hit me - with each exaggerated wingbeat of the display flight, the wings make a popping noise. After all these years, I learned something new about those chats, and something I’ve never read anywhere. Must be one of those things you have to be really close to experience. I love stuff like that.