We installed a feeder on our front deck by our main entrance. I doubted that it would work but we filled it with the sweet red water and waited. We didn't have to wait long. We had a visitor the first day and we were all pleased. We were less enthusiastic about all the ants it attracted. The hummingbirds don’t seem to be bothered at all, though. They buzz in many times daily and I find myself inordinately impressed by this. They are truly amazing creatures.
Mostly I find birds boring, except for birds of prey. Eagles and hawks are hella cool. And OK, I do have a soft spot for seagulls, those garbage cans of the avian world. My dad once pointed out to me that they are really good fliers and since that day I have admired them. Plus they have that really nice colour combo of gray and white. But aside from hummingbirds, eagles, hawks and seagulls, birds are pretty dull.
Hummingbirds combine the best features of birds and insects. Most of the ones that come to us have emerald green on their backs. Maybe it is the same one over and over again?
A couple of weeks back, I was stretching on our front steps after a particularly hot and demoralizing run past Miss Daisy's house and along Ponce de Leon. As I was standing by our front steps, recovering, the little Green Baron did a couple of laps around my head. Thinking it was the biggest wasp in Georgia, I freaked out, flailing my arms about and shrieking like a little girl. The bird continued to the feeder and I was grateful no one had seen. I watched it as it drank and buzzed around the feeder. It made little chirping sounds and the whir of its wings sounded like a high-speed miniature fan. Soon it was off into the trees but was back a moment later. It hovered a few feet in front of me, watching, deciding whether to stay or go. It stayed and fed a while then flew off into the big holly tree in our yard.
Other times they come and look at us through our living room window before they have a drink. One sat on our sun deck railing for a while. He was so ridiculously small.
There is much wildlife in our urban setting. I wouldn't have expected this when moving to the metropolis of Atlanta. At night, it sounds like a jungle outside with the crickets, and the general buzz of the night, and screeches of the birds(?) I imagine those sounds come from squirrel monkeys (escaped from the horrors Yerkes) or bush babies. There is an unusual spider living in the plants lining our front walk. He is a pretty good size with long legs with grey and black/ brown markings in a stripey pattern. His web has an unusual white strip down the centre. We see him day after day, sitting in the same spot in his web. We’re amazed he is not washed away by the torrential rains. Today, another smaller version of him appeared, lower in the web. Georgie speculated that it was the baby and that the mother had died, and instructed Elise to keep her distance. Elise took this as her cue to stick her finger in the web. Anyway, spidey is starting to give me the creeps. It just keeps getting bigger. He's still out there in the dark, plotting our demise.
There are many other (boring) birds about, notably cardinals. We once saw a bat, at dusk. It flew over and spread its wings in a perfect bat signal against the sky. Most of the life around here is insect. So many bugs. There are fireflies, most noticeable at dusk but as I think about it, they seem to have disappeared in the last few weeks. Mosquitoes are a constant. Elise is covered in bites despite our daily efforts at repelling the little bastards. They do love her the best and I am a close second. The crickets/ cicadas/ katydids make an incredible amount of noise. Then there is the dreaded palmetto bug. This is a euphemism because it is really just a roach. One that can fly. They seem to come in the house when it gets really hot and apparently are not “nesting” roaches. So we need not fear infestation... They do seem a little hapless and only occasionally make it into the house. They have an annoying habit of taking flight just as I am about to crush them. Last night one flew down upon me as I tried to get him with a broom. Back home, I had a basic live and let live policy when it came to bugs. Here, partly because they are weird, exotic and disgusting I have a new policy: kill first and ask questions later. Actually, it is more like: kill and kill again, then kill some more. Then clean up the gross mess. I hit one so hard that I broke our broom. I don't know my own strength.
We have also seen some lizards, and there are crazy squirrels about. They are in a constant state of over-stimulated hyperactivity. They also act as thought they have never seen a person when ever we drive up or walk out our front door. They go into full on panic mode and dive into or out of bushes, trees, run into each other, drop, tuck, roll, etc.
My most recent wildlife encounter took place yesterday as I ran the trails of Lullwater park. It is on Emory grounds and has a creek, a lake and the impressive president's residence. It is a welcome shady escape for walkers and runners. It also has a number of ducks and Canada Geese. Good to see that they crap up the place down here as well. I think people eat Canada Geese here. Anyway, as I ran along the creek side trail, lost in thoughts of half marathon glory I was startled to almost step on a large snake stretched across the path. I could see neither his head or tail only his thick, spotted body. I have no reference point for this in my life, no Piagetian schema in my head to help me classify this perception and feel ok about it. My reaction was one of extreme alarm, panic even. I lept very high in the air and ran down the path as fast as I could. After running away for a while, my curiosity got the better of me and I crept slowly back to see if what I had seen was real. He didn't even bother to slither away. His big disgusting tail was still sticking out of the bushes. He was about 3 feet long and had markings that made me remember the story about the 100 thousand wild Boa Constrictors in Florida. That’s only one state away. There they hired snake killers and are considering marketing the meat (OK, now I just have to go to Florida).
When I got home I looked this guy up on the UGA’s herpetology and sneaky snake website. I was happy to convince myself it was a northern water snake, not a boa or a deadly cotton mouth. I was very unhappy to learn about all the different snakes that live here.
(I have since learned that this snake is not a water snake but a venomous copperhead. I have been reassured though that the bite probably wouldn't kill you.)
Friday, August 14, 2009
Praying Mantis
“There’s a Praying Mantis in the tree!” We were in the yard of Georgie’s pre-school. It borders on the forest of Lullwater Park and in one corner there is an enormous tree. Some of the children were jumping and yelling and pointing up at a little bug on the trunk of the tree. Georgie and I went over to check it out. About ten feet up, a good sized green grasshopper-like bug was slowly making his way up the trunk. One of the kids whipped a plastic shovel at it, but missed by a mile. “Looks more like a katydid”, I said. I had just learned about crickets, cicadas and katydids on a recent visit to the Fernbank Museum of Natural History. Basically, they’re all crickets. “What’s a kay-tee-did?”, the shovel-hucker said. I tried to tell him about the world of crickets but he quickly grew disinterested. I don't care about any of that, I just want to kill it. Meanwhile, Mr. Greenlegs was getting out of harms way. I decided it was a katydid, like the one we had on our front door a while back. Or maybe a Cicada. Praying Mantis!
A few days later, I was walking across the parking lot of the grocery store. I felt like I might melt. (The Kroger parking lot has got to be the hottest place here) I spotted a little green leaf in my path. I was about to step on it but changed my mind. There was something funny about the way it was upright and not flat to the ground. I tried to avoid it at the last minute but it caught my sandal and went sailing a few feet away. I bent over to look at it. I was an insect, a stick bug or something. It seemed no worse for wear after his rude introduction to my foot. I took a closer look. It was a Praying Mantis.
A few days later, I was walking across the parking lot of the grocery store. I felt like I might melt. (The Kroger parking lot has got to be the hottest place here) I spotted a little green leaf in my path. I was about to step on it but changed my mind. There was something funny about the way it was upright and not flat to the ground. I tried to avoid it at the last minute but it caught my sandal and went sailing a few feet away. I bent over to look at it. I was an insect, a stick bug or something. It seemed no worse for wear after his rude introduction to my foot. I took a closer look. It was a Praying Mantis.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Atlanta radio
I am in the car quite a bit and I have been listening to Atlanta radio for a few weeks now. I am driving our leased Mitsubishi Lancer. We had no choice in the matter, so we got what we got. A cherry red Lancer. Georgie seems to like it, and I have grown quite fond of it as well. I think it has two cylinders and when you give it some gas, it rattles and shakes like an old sewing machine. I think I might call it "Flame", like the Moped in the Jim Stafford song "Cowpatty". That is a great song, and if you haven't heard it you've missed a good laugh. Anyway, Flame (the car) gets about 100 miles to the gallon and I don't mind telling you, it turns some heads.
Lancer: one that lances, an instrument which is used to slice, cut, dice, chop or hack. Dr. Stevens eyed the festering boil and asked the scrub nurse for a #6 Mitsubishi Lancer.
Anyway, back to the music on the radio. OK, I get it, REM is from Georgia, but do I have to hear "It's the end of the world" so many times? And what is this fascination with The Red Hot Chili Peppers? And man do they love The Counting Crows, and The Black Crowes. Any band with the word "crow" in it. Thankfully, I have only heard 'Mr. Jones' once so I haven't had to consider offing myself. Actually, to my surprise, I have grown to like the C. Crows. Maybe it is true what my friend Bruce once said about some bands. If you strap yourself down and force yourself to listen to something that at first sounds awful, it sometimes actually grows on you. That seems to have happened to me with the Crows. Not that they are awful. Maybe I should try that with the Kings of Leon. Jesus. How can something so annoying be so popular?
Dave Matthews is also on heavy rotation here but this is OK. He has a new release and it sounds great. And too much Pearl Jam! Not even discussing if it is good or not, "Jeremy" is just an unpleasant experience and not one that should be repeated weekly.
I have found the rock station, the alt rock station, the pop station, the R and B station. Gudrun favours the pop station. I like a lot of what they play too, but I get confused by the Kelly Clarkson- Pink continuum. When Kelly tries to be rockin' and rough then it sounds like Pink to me. The reverse is true when Pink shows her sensitive side. 'Big Girls Don't Cry' by Fergie was one of my guilty pleasures during our first few weeks here. Another guilty pleasure was, "If today was your last day" by Nickelback.
It is not all bad but there is an absence of "foreign" music on any of the stations. Very little British music. Except Coldplay. And that's how I know they are gay. They listen to Coldplay. I actually miss Canadian music. I heard Blue Rodeo once here and almost fell off my chair. A little Bruce Cockburn, perhaps? I'd even settle for Tom Cochrane (just not the song that dare not speak its name).
Soon after I wrote the above, I would enter a dark period where I listened only to sports talk radio. I didn't know how bad it had got until I found myself actually caring about the NCAA basketball tournament. This was my wake-up call, my rock bottom. I am happy to report that I am back listening to music, taking it one day at a time. There are a lot of new songs out now so it is good.
I now actually appreciate the one station I listen to most of the time. Dave FM. They have a great program called, "Acoustic Sunrise" on Sunday mornings. It is great to hear the stripped down versions of songs. Pearl jam has a new album and I love the songs I have heard. They seemed to have eased back on RHCP and REM, and Kings of Leon seem to be on the fade. Thank god.
Mr. Canada
In our first weeks here we needed a plumber and so we met the friendly and colourful character Curtis, master plumber and MBA from Emory University. "I've been trying to sell it back to them for fifty cents on the dollar!" he said, gesturing in the direction of the campus. Curtis speaks in a big, booming voice, slightly hoarse, and has a flare for the dramatic. In the couple of hours he was fixing our sink, he offered kind advice and shared wisdom on life in Atlanta. It was his friendly welcome. He reassured me, "You'll find that most people in this neighbourhood are just like you,” he pointed at me and paused, “from somewhere else."
In our first weeks here we needed a plumber and so we met the friendly and colourful character Curtis, master plumber and MBA from Emory University. "I've been trying to sell it back to them for fifty cents on the dollar!" he said, gesturing in the direction of the campus. Curtis speaks in a big, booming voice, slightly hoarse, and has a flare for the dramatic. In the couple of hours he was fixing our sink, he offered kind advice and shared wisdom on life in Atlanta. It was his friendly welcome. He reassured me, "You'll find that most people in this neighbourhood are just like you,” he pointed at me and paused, “from somewhere else."
He, too, is an outsider, from Virginia. He is a proud southerner. When talking about folks up north (“you won't hear the word ‘Yankee’ come out of my mouth”), he said, "You can chase your tail all day, but you're still never gonna catch it".
He is a fan of Obama, an increasingly rare thing here in the south. "I cried when he was elected. At first I wasn't so sure about him but when he came to town and I saw the thousands of people lining the street to see him, I thought, wait a minute here..."
He cautioned us about the weather. In July, August and a good part of September, he said, "it is not to be trifled with". He told me, it is neither the heat nor the humidity, as formidable as they are, but the poor air quality. He likes to watch movies until late at night with a friend of his. After midnight, they step outside to "get some fresh air into the lungs." At this point he inhaled deeply and held it in for a moment. He let it go and said, “but sometimes, there is just no fresh air to be had".
When I told him I might get a job that would often take me to Alabama, he stopped and stared at me for a moment. "There's another thing I didn't tell you about Alabama,” (the topic had not come up), "don't go there!" In fact he shared his dislike for even venturing outside "the perimeter". Atlanta is divided roughly into downtown/ in-town neighbourhoods and the suburbs. "The perimeter" is a zone defined by the number 285 expressway which encircles the city. I had heard that the "in-town" neighbourhoods are where it’s at. They are liberal, progressive clusters of good restaurants, culture, a cosmopolitan feel and "character". The suburbs (outside the perimeter), I was told, are just the opposite. When I shared this, Curtis remarked that people "out there are just not very intelligent". He has a particular disdain for the suburb of Marietta.
He told me to be careful when south of Ponce de Leon after dark. Ponce is a major east- west artery in the city that traditionally divided the white neighbourhoods to the north from the black ones to the south. "You may be walking to your car after dinner, you've had a bit to drink, and there may be someone, now I am not racist, but it is usually a black man. As I say I am not a racist, that's just the way it is. I don't want to scare you folks but people have been shot. You just keep your eyes open"
And Curtis hates Ikea. He shuddered and recounted his one and only visit there. "Man, no windows, I felt like I was like a rat in a maze and I said ‘get me out of here!’" Probably needed some fresh air.
He has been to Vancouver twice. He stayed at the Sylvia Hotel and rode his bike around Stanley Park. He had a lovely time. He would like to return but is currently banned from our country. It seems on his last visit he was detained and interrogated for two hours. He was not given a reason. He sent a letter of complaint to the consulate here and was told he was lucky something worse didn't happen to him. He wanted my opinion on the matter. Why did this happen to him? Is this common for visitors to Canada? I didn't know what to say. I was actually a little embarrassed that my government would treat such a decent guy so badly.
He suggested some restaurants and family friendly activities. He wrote these on the back of his card. He also invited me to call him some time if I had questions or needed help. "I may not be the smartest person in the world, but I know some things and I have lived here for more than fifteen years"
About a month later he returned, when they had to dig up our front yard to replace the water main. He pulled up in his ‘70’s era GTO. It was a rough-looking vehicle painted in a dull primer. "Mr. Canada!" he said and shook my hand. He and Craig and I stood over the pit, shooting the breeze. It was an impressive trench, about 15 feet down through the Georgia red clay. Curtis talked about some folks who dig these trenches incorrectly, or at the wrong time, or after it has rained a lot. "You go down that hole, you may not come out. Usually you hear about it happening in Marietta or somewhere out there, there's a cave-in and they pull ‘em out, sometimes dead, sometimes not".
Somehow we started talking about our fathers. Craig said he does something and then thinks, "Oh my god, I’m becoming my dad." Curtis jumped in, "Not me! I will NOT wash my car when it does not need it. I will NOT cut my grass when it does not need it. No, I will not".
The trench has now been long filled in and the grass is slowly returning. I haven't seen Curtis in a while. I should give him a call.
He is a fan of Obama, an increasingly rare thing here in the south. "I cried when he was elected. At first I wasn't so sure about him but when he came to town and I saw the thousands of people lining the street to see him, I thought, wait a minute here..."
He cautioned us about the weather. In July, August and a good part of September, he said, "it is not to be trifled with". He told me, it is neither the heat nor the humidity, as formidable as they are, but the poor air quality. He likes to watch movies until late at night with a friend of his. After midnight, they step outside to "get some fresh air into the lungs." At this point he inhaled deeply and held it in for a moment. He let it go and said, “but sometimes, there is just no fresh air to be had".
When I told him I might get a job that would often take me to Alabama, he stopped and stared at me for a moment. "There's another thing I didn't tell you about Alabama,” (the topic had not come up), "don't go there!" In fact he shared his dislike for even venturing outside "the perimeter". Atlanta is divided roughly into downtown/ in-town neighbourhoods and the suburbs. "The perimeter" is a zone defined by the number 285 expressway which encircles the city. I had heard that the "in-town" neighbourhoods are where it’s at. They are liberal, progressive clusters of good restaurants, culture, a cosmopolitan feel and "character". The suburbs (outside the perimeter), I was told, are just the opposite. When I shared this, Curtis remarked that people "out there are just not very intelligent". He has a particular disdain for the suburb of Marietta.
He told me to be careful when south of Ponce de Leon after dark. Ponce is a major east- west artery in the city that traditionally divided the white neighbourhoods to the north from the black ones to the south. "You may be walking to your car after dinner, you've had a bit to drink, and there may be someone, now I am not racist, but it is usually a black man. As I say I am not a racist, that's just the way it is. I don't want to scare you folks but people have been shot. You just keep your eyes open"
And Curtis hates Ikea. He shuddered and recounted his one and only visit there. "Man, no windows, I felt like I was like a rat in a maze and I said ‘get me out of here!’" Probably needed some fresh air.
He has been to Vancouver twice. He stayed at the Sylvia Hotel and rode his bike around Stanley Park. He had a lovely time. He would like to return but is currently banned from our country. It seems on his last visit he was detained and interrogated for two hours. He was not given a reason. He sent a letter of complaint to the consulate here and was told he was lucky something worse didn't happen to him. He wanted my opinion on the matter. Why did this happen to him? Is this common for visitors to Canada? I didn't know what to say. I was actually a little embarrassed that my government would treat such a decent guy so badly.
He suggested some restaurants and family friendly activities. He wrote these on the back of his card. He also invited me to call him some time if I had questions or needed help. "I may not be the smartest person in the world, but I know some things and I have lived here for more than fifteen years"
About a month later he returned, when they had to dig up our front yard to replace the water main. He pulled up in his ‘70’s era GTO. It was a rough-looking vehicle painted in a dull primer. "Mr. Canada!" he said and shook my hand. He and Craig and I stood over the pit, shooting the breeze. It was an impressive trench, about 15 feet down through the Georgia red clay. Curtis talked about some folks who dig these trenches incorrectly, or at the wrong time, or after it has rained a lot. "You go down that hole, you may not come out. Usually you hear about it happening in Marietta or somewhere out there, there's a cave-in and they pull ‘em out, sometimes dead, sometimes not".
Somehow we started talking about our fathers. Craig said he does something and then thinks, "Oh my god, I’m becoming my dad." Curtis jumped in, "Not me! I will NOT wash my car when it does not need it. I will NOT cut my grass when it does not need it. No, I will not".
The trench has now been long filled in and the grass is slowly returning. I haven't seen Curtis in a while. I should give him a call.
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