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The Mint Green Jumper


~My Family Circa the 70's~

In the midst of all the moving/not moving/moving/not moving drama that's taken place this week I found an envelope from my mom containing some pictures from my childhood.  In this one we were about to go to my cousin's wedding where I was to perform my flower girl duties.  I remember two distinct things about that day:  I hated my hair (which coincidentally I fought desperately to replicate in my early 20's) and I loved my mom's green jumpsuit.  It had the widest legs and a little hood in back.  For years I dreamed of the day I would be able to fit in it and sashay around with those legs swishing about, so you can only imagine how disappointed I was when I called to see if she had it in a box only to learn it was long gone.  The dream may be dead, but the photo and memories live on.

Bankable Lifers?

Indian hill myna

On a recent quick trip to South Florida, I was shown two new, but currently uncountable, life birds. The Indian hill myna, and the chestnut-fronted macaw are established exotics here in SoFla. We saw them nesting and making babies, so we know they are establishing their North American populations, however neither species is currently on the North American Bird List as an accepted, countable species.

Chestnut-fronted macaw.

So I am tucking these sightings away for the day when some enterprising ornithology student decides to do a study on these species for his/her PhD thesis. We're calling these species "Bankable Lifers" until they are countable.

Chestnut-fronted macaw. This one is for Charles.

Working It Out In Prints

Guess what?  My landlord is on my last nerve.  He danced all over that mother on Saturday causing me to seriously consider if I even want to live at Chez Carrie anymore - a place that has been my home for almost 6 years.  Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, shred, shred, shred.  I'm trying to calm my nerves and clear my mind in order to make a decision, but it seems that's easier said than done.  It's been a long time since I even contemplated moving so I decided to take a peek at what's out there...just in case I opt to take a flying leap and carry on outta here.  Pardon me while I take a nap - this whole thing is exhausting.

On Sunday afternoon we zipped over to one of my favorite buildings in the neighborhood.  There is rarely a vacancy, but I hold out hope.  Whenever perusing rental possibilities I try to pull myself together and put my best foot forward.  Read:  competition can be a real biznatch and you only get one chance to make a good first impression aka seize that property.  I went for the gusto mixing prints and textures galore - sadly there were no vacancies, but a really nice lady invited me onto the property to take a look around.  I think she was in love with my dress - no jokes.  Maybe we can do a trade?  Nah.

See what I mean?  She's in love with the dress - as am I, so no deal lady - 
and I'm in love with the property - as is she, so no deal Carrie.
I scooped this dress on Gilt a few weeks ago and have been waiting for the weather to warm up just a bit so I could break it out.  Yesterday was the perfect day for fearless bright prints all mixed together.
Key word:  Fearless 
Remember last year when I scored these Miu Miu babies? Probably not I had 30 followers then.
Last pair on the West Coast in a 36 purchased in a Walking Pneumonia delirium.
I jumped up and down in store, went home, and passed out for 3 days.
They slept with me - see here.



At the last minute I tossed on the belt that the Tucker team sent over (post here) and loved the wild
punch it gave to the dress.  This lace vest was hanging on the back of the door so I swung it over and
off we went. The Chef even loved the combo.  No Man Repeller action going on over here today, ladies.
ps-and no that is not my stomach - I am shredding.  It's day 6 and going strong. Woot!
Even though the dress got a little wrinkly in back (inevitable) and the picture's not totally clear
I still wanted you to see the back of the vest.  Look at all the amazing detail and how
well it fits around the arm.  Big thanks to Carey for the heads up on this one.

Isabel is featuring me as her girl of the Blogosphere today - hop on over and check it out.  Anyone new to the Shred Crew? If you don't know what that is there are a group of us working our way through Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred dvd and encouraging/commiserating on twitter.  We're at varying stages so feel free to jump in at any time.  Toning the calves and arms has never felt so good.  Have a great Monday everyone!

*Update* - Holy mother of pearl Roots featured me and Blanket over at The Buzz.  Check it here!


Outfit Details:  Tucker by Gaby Basora - Wrap Dress & Belt, H&M - Vest, Miu Miu - Bird Print Shoes, Free People - Necklace, J.Crew - Ring, Kate Spade - Bangle, Target - Sunnies

New Beginnings

Isn't it interesting how on Monday morning Friday seems so far away?  On Tuesday it's almost even worse.  Yet here we are at Friday and I caught myself thinking, "bugger only 3 more days and it's Monday again."  I'm really trying to change that mentality and be content in the moment, whatever the day is and whatever I'm facing, including Jillian Michaels and her 30 Day Shred.  Day 3 down only 27 more to go. *hobble hobble*

It seems like only a short time ago that the Chef stopped working in LA and set out full-time to find/start a restaurant of his own, but the truth is it's been about a year.  A year of looking, getting close, having locations get purchased just as he was ready to make an offer, getting discouraged and then starting all over again.  This week, after months of jumping through hoops, he took possession of his restaurant in Huntington Beach and the demolition began.  It's pretty exhilarating yet overwhelming to think that in 5 or 6 weeks he will be open for business.  I'll  be sharing more details in the upcoming days and weeks ahead, but for now here are a couple of pictures of the interior that will be undergoing a drastic change.

Here's a picture taken before they started removing the interior and prepping for the re-design.  It's been a Chinese restaurant for over 40 years - almost a historical site in the community - and will now be something much different, yet hopefully something the community will embrace.  Not to worry I will be pilfering through all the artifacts and seizing the goods...including hand-embroidered pictures from the Orient.  Hold.the.phone. 

And here is a picture he sent over from his iphone yesterday afternoon.  Whoa.  Who knew tearing out carpet to prep for concrete floors could be so brutal?

In  two words?  Holy cow. 
Note to self:  Inquire about turquoise foo dogs.  No foo left behind.

For all of you who have followed my blog and tested his recipes since the early days last year, you know he comes up with some pretty creative food combos.  I hope you'll stick with us as I keep up the updates throughout the process - I'll keep posting pictures on facebook too, if you'd like to see the play by play.  I started this blog to keep a running record of my life - clothing finds, outfit loves, zany stories, and of course - food.  I'll still be doing the same only now you might be seeing more of my outfit pictures from the inside of the restaurant or out in the parking lot since hauling a tripod is not something I see myself doing.  Read:  recipe for disaster given my coordination.  The best part is hopefully we'll be able to share some of his cool food posts like in the beginning.  

Whatever the case may be it's an exciting time over here and we're looking forward to sharing it with you.  I hope you have a great weekend and I'll see you back on Monday - hopefully with at least one more day of the Shred behind me.  Siwy denim shorts here I come...

Peregrine Nation

Once upon a time, when a bird watcher flipped through the raptor pages of his or her field guide, the image of the peregrine falcon probably engendered wistful and wishful feelings. Despite the fact that the peregrine is one of the most widely distributed raptors worldwide, in North America it has been an endangered species for as long as most of can remember. This was due to the lingering effects of DDT and other chemical toxins in the food chain, which inhibited the falcon's reproductive success.

A number of recovery efforts for this species—mainly hacking peregrine chicks into protected human-made nest sites–has succeeded beyond expectation. With the happy result that the American peregrine falcon was taken off the Endangered Species List in 1999.

Today we find peregrine falcons nesting in places where they never existed. Indeed this has been the subject of great debate among birders, wildlife managers, and both government and NGO biologists. Is it OK to put a super predator into a habitat where it never naturally occurred? For example: a peregrine nesting tower built in a vast, flat, coastal marsh which has chicks fledge successfully from it is likely to be where at least one of those chicks returns to nest. And when it does it begins to prey upon the local colony of least terns or piping plovers—two other federally endangered species. Depending on the location and landscape, historically such a habitat would only have passing visits from migrant peregrines.

And what if the local great horned owl comes by the peregrine tower and starts making owl pellets out of the peregrine nestlings? Big dilemma.

Setting aside the bio-ethical dilemma for un momentito, I have to say that I LOVE seeing peregrine falcons on a more regular basis. We even have them nesting on a bridge over the Ohio River between Belpre, Ohio and Parkersburg, WV. And in this area, my guess is that the falcons are living primarily on a diet of rock pigeon—which we have in abundance.

Last Friday as we were leaving a rather somber event in Parkersburg, I spotted a big female peregrine flying between buildings, heading away from the river. She landed on a six-story bank building and began to call. Within minutes her mate swooped in carrying food, landed briefly, then both birds took to the sky. What a thrill!

One of the birds landed on the Wood County courthouse and began drinking (we hypothesized) from a rain puddle on the roof. My guess is that this is the pair of adults that nested under the bridge last year, raising three birds to fledging.

Atop the Wood County, WV courthouse.

On my recent Bohemian waxwing adventure, I spied this peregrine in downtown Grand Rapids, Michigan, perched on a hospital.
Grand Rapids, Michigan peregrine falcon.

Many middle-to-large Midwestern cities now have a resident breeding pair of peregrine falcons. There are scores of falcon web-cams documenting the private lives of these aerial masters. As bird watchers, I would imagine that most of us are happy to see this impressive raptor. We have become, if you will, a peregrine nation.

I just hope that, when I leave this mortal coil, I'm not reincarnated as a rock pigeon in Parkersburg, WV.

Jump on the Shred Mill

It happened so fast I'm not even exactly sure how it went down.  Monday was barreling by:  I finished up an email to a colleague, started packing up for class, glanced at twitter and saw Katie mention she'd started the 30 Day Shred.  The next thing I knew Monday must have run off with my sanity because I offered to partner with her for the sake of motivation aka whining.  Cut to twitter scene and there are 5 of us in the game planning not to 'phone it in'.  What have I done?  I mean aside from thrown myself on the altar of summer's around the corner and the saddle bags have got to go...

Even though I've done the Shred twice before with excellent results, for some reason I can't seem to get back on the wagon and stick to it.  On Friday I got the sickest package from Free People.  Prepare.  Are you sitting down?


Mmmmmkay?  It's sold out so I can't even give you a link.  Sowee.

How in the sam hockey stick am I supposed to pull this thing off with a slight bit of muffin top left over from Christmas?  Really people.  How?  Truth:  I don't want to.  I want to lose 10 and feel healthy again.  Boho is on the verge of in full swing.  I can't have a muffin of any sort except for the occasional breakfast one or I'll never be able to pull this sheer romper off.  And may I just note that it is even more fantastic in person?  Think Moroccan dancing on the rooftop deck should my landlord ever cooperate and throw me the upper space.  Doesn't he know I have dreams??  Dreams!!

My body must be in a full on panic.  After class I found myself at the conventional grocery store that I rarely go to standing in front of the Ben & Jerry section.  It's all Valerie's fault (just like an addict to blame everyone else-haha!).  She mentioned that ice cream with the chunks of potato chips in it.  Even though it wasn't in the grocer's freezer I somehow managed to leave with a family size bag of Ruffles potato chips and a pint of Chocolate Covered Macadamia Chocolate Ice Cream.  I need an intervention.  Jillian tweeted me once.  I hope she's not reading this or I'll race into the living room, turn that video on STAT, and proceed to do it repeatedly until collapse.  Or infinity.  Whichever comes first.  Don't mess with Jillian - she does not play.  I'm rambling.

So here we go.  Anyone else up for the Shred Mill? (really I don't know where I come up with this stuff) The more the merrier.  Think toned legs and a lifted butt for summer.  Oh yeah and abs.  I'm getting out a picture of Carrie Bradshaw's skinny legs and pinning it next to my computer.  

Spring is a Teasing Vixen


I found further proof, thanks to today's balmy weather, that writing about birds is much easier when you can write with the windows open, bird song floating in on the gentle breeze. Spring!

However there is this caveat: Spring in mid-March (at least here in southeastern Ohio) is a teasing vixen. She'll let you glimpse her rapturous beauty and catch a whiff of her sweet perfume, but reach out for her expectantly and she'll slap your face with three days of sleet and snow.


She'll make you watch while she coats the daffodils in frost and forces the timberdoodles to forage in roadside ditches. She'll bruise your heart with her apparent cold-hearted cruelty, but that's just spring's natural way of making you truly thankful when she arrives for real.

And on that day, each year, I drop to the ground and roll around in the new green grass, trying my best to hug the entire Earth.

Blanket

As it turns out Michael Jackson is not the only one with a child named Blanket.  I now have one, too.  Only mine really is a blanket.  But I'm still thinking of it kind of like my child and have not left it unattended since it arrived last week.  You know - a similar set up to the high school kids who have to look after an egg like their baby and not let it smash.  Only I'm not giving this one back to my bio, er, home economics teacher.

Disclaimer:  I have no excuse for my rambling except I may or may not have eaten approximately 20 (okay probably more) sour gummy cherry coke bottles prior to typing this post.  Oh, and I'm deliriously in love with my blanket, too - rendering me unable to think or speak coherently.  

Examine it for yourselves, but exercise caution if you are in the work environment as you may find yourself incapable of performing employment duties such as articulating thoughts, forming sentences and/or completing simple tasks upon viewing.

It came along to Palm Springs
and was very well-behaved in the car.
Sometimes it rested on the desk
other times opting for quiet time on the deck lounge off our room.
It also may have played part in a ridic outfit post I can't wait to share next week.

Talk about an item exceeding your expectations.  When I first saw the blanket in the Roots Spring Campaign I took to the phone lines and tracked this mother down thinking it may not be as good in person.  Nothing like being wrong and loving every minute of it.  When I removed the blanket from the box even my mom gasped.  Sign of a family heirloom...hope my niece retains a bit of the hippie as she gets older :)

ps-have you checked out the facebook page I put up for the blog?  if not, be sure to stop by and examine the picture of the chef, the blanket and a crystal he found at the hotel.  secure depends prior to arrival.  just saying.

Pause. Rewind. Reflect

I'm back, I'm alive and I'm grateful.  If you've been keeping up on twitter or facebook then you've heard brief blurbs here and there, but this is the first real moment I've had to sit down and put a post together since my parents left this morning.  So much and yet so little has gone on in the six brief days they spent with me in Southern California.  I guess I'll start at the beginning.

Last wednesday evening I rolled into my usual hair salon for a color job.  Three hours later I rolled out with orange roots...think not far off the "publish post" button on blogger.  Can you say gong show?  My scalp was on fire and I was spent.  What was supposed to be a routine touch up ended up a total sh*t show when someone decided to inject their two cents into my INOA treatment.  Suffice it to say I went home, finished cleaning until 3am and returned to the salon by 10am for correction.  By noon I was at LAX chasing down some poor woman who had half a mile of toilet paper trailing behind her shoe as she exited the restroom while I waited for my mom.  All in a day's work, I guess.

After dropping bags and still being a mite bit stunned and somewhat choked up that my parents were actually visiting me in SoCal (it's been over 10 years and my dad's never been) we headed over to the Chef's new restaurant so they could take a peek through the doors.  

He's just waiting on the final papers to begin construction...exciting!
My family loves food so it's tough to actually tell who is more excited.  hehe
From there we indulged in mad amounts of Mexican food - this is only one stop -, and took in a few
 sights before heading back to my place to get some rest.  Famous last words.

For whatever reason I stayed up late that night.  Just as I was about to turn off the television I slipped quickly past the news and learned about the tsunami.  It took my breath away as I sat for over two hours in a total state of shock.  By 2am they had listed my neighborhood with a potential arrival time should it hit the west coast, and they were recommending evacuation.  

My parents live on a farm.  My dad has only been to California a handful of times in his life and doesn't like the idea of earthquakes.  Now I had to tell him about Japan, as well as the possibility of backlash in the west?  Jesus take the wheel.  I'll keep it brief and say a bit of panic swept through my home.  Thankfully I have the best of friends a bit inland who are really like my family here.  Their daughter goes to UH and they already had been texting me about her evacuation plans, so we were able to go to their place and wait it out.  Thankfully nothing rolled in, but to say it was a nerve wracking experience is an underestimation - only exacerbated by footage of the all out devastation in Japan.  

It was here that this visit changed.  I had been wound up wanting them to have a boat load of fun and really like it here.  My focus shifted to sheer gratitude that we were together period.  The next few days consisted of more food, a wonderful trip to Palm Springs to visit some of my parents' friends who winter there, a great stay in a fun hotel, and getting some rad pics of my dad standing on the shore of the Pacific Ocean.  Here's a photo montage if you're still reading along.

mmmmmmcheese
Winter Kate
Road Trip
Palm Springs
Hotel
My Dad and the Chef
I said "act lively" - um, okay Chef - hahaha!
Feet in sand
The Original Cat Whisperer

I swear my dad wore all kinds of clothes, but I never seemed to catch him in anything other than this.  Woops!  Anyway I'll cut it short with the pictures, but am so tempted to post the one of him darting off in a jog across the sand calling out, "get one of me doing the fitness thing like everyone else around here."  I swear I almost peed my pants laughing - it was so awesome. 

Here's to getting back into the swing of things, although I'm not sure how any of us can do that with all of the trauma and chaos in Japan.  My heart bleeds for the country and its people.  This trip with my parents was quick, but it seemed to go by in a slow haze because we can't stop thinking about it - this could happen to any of us.  Have you helped out?  I'm going to give to the Red Cross here and here, but would also like to hear if you know of other ways we could help out.  Thanks everyone - hope you're all hanging in there.

Talking with the Old Oak

"How can we know for certain," I asked the old oak, "that those are your branches reaching up to scratch the sky? And not your roots, in some weird, inverted universe?"

The sky and snow-covered ground look to be one and the same to my early morning eyes.

"But then my acorns—here's one plonking your head now—would be falling upward, would they not?" answered the oak.

"True. But let me see your roots, then, just to be sure," I replied.

"You don't really want that now, do you?"

"No, I suppose not."

"It is good that you see alternatives to this reality, my friend. But you should also know that there is reality that is real, yet unseen," the oak said.

"Like your roots?" I asked.

"Yes, and yours, too," came the oak's final reply.

Bohemian Quest: The Final Day

Dawn breaks over Harbor Springs, Michigan.

After spending the night inside my wrapped Christmas-present box of a motel room, I got up early, put on every piece of clothing from my duffel bag, and loaded up The Back Breaker for another day of looking for our target bird (also known as tilting at windmills). We thought we'd get on the road by 5:45 am, grab an early breakfast at a local diner by 6 am, and probably nail the Bohemian waxwings by 7. At the latest.

Wearing eleventeen layers of clothing for cold-weather waxwing chasing.

Minor detail: there is no diner open at 6 am in Harbor Springs. So we lowered our sights and grabbed a couple of convenience-store belly bombs and two cups of hot battery acid (with hazelnut creamer). NOW we were ready to go birding.

Down to the harbor we went, arriving well before the sunrise. Gazing out over the frozen harbor, I noted the distinct lack of bird life. No crows, no starlings, no Canada geese. It was 2 degrees F. I couldn't blame them.

We drove around the old familiar places, getting excellent looks at bare fruit trees, piles of snow, and some ice-fishermen out on the lake, still frozen in the same positions they'd been in the day before. We even went back out to the land of snow buntings, where some waxies had made sporadic appearances. We scanned the open water on the lake. Nada.

Heeter scans the open water of Lake Michigan.

The day was slipping away.

I'd sent out another plea for help on the MI-birds listserv and got some good leads on BOWAs both farther north and farther south. Since we were running out of time, we needed to make a strategic move, and fast.

By 10 am I was getting both restless and slightly annoyed. So Heets and I decided to head south to a hopeful-sounding sighting in Traverse City. A kind soul named Holly had e-mailed me to share her day-before sighting of a sizable flock of BOWAs in a neighborhood with ornamental fruit trees. It was time to man up or clam up.

Man up it was. I took a nap while Heeter drove us down the lakefront highway to Traverse City.
We stopped at several places where fruit remained on the trees. No dice. We spotted some tundra swans. And a ring-billed gull. And a pile of rock pigeons. Yawn.

And then we pulled into the un-gated gated community where Holly had seen many, many Bohemian waxwings the day before. We began driving the roads, hoping for a miracle. First street: nothing. Second street: nothing. Third street...

"THERE THEY ARE!!!"

Those dots at 1 o'clock in the tree are Bohemians.

They were just seven or so dots in the top of a tree, but I knew, KNEW, that they were Bohemian waxwings. It's possible that I caught a whiff of their diagnostic aura of patchouli. After gawking at them for three seconds in my binocs, I began scrambling for my various cameras. First the Canon 30D. Clickclickclickclick.
Two shots taken with my big rig Canon 30D.



Then the Leica spotting scope for some digiscoping.

Two shots taken with my digiscoping rig.


And then, like leaves blown by the wind, they lifted into the air and disappeared into the distance. Gone! But we'd SEEN them. How sweet! Figuring we'd find another flock or that this one might return, we left the perfectly manicured neighborhood and went looking for a lunch spot. We found a great little deli a half-mile away and settled in for our first real food of the day. Four spoonfuls into my soup I felt the irresistible urge to check Bohemian waxwing off on my checklist. Geoff caught the moment on video.



And so the journey ended successfully. Sigh of relief.

We headed southward so Geoff could visit his family in Big Rapids and Grand Rapids (lots of rapids in these parts, nearly all frozen solid). We made a stop at Geoff's boyhood home.

Geoff Heeter, 2009 or so model. (photo by Jeffrey A. Gordon)

And I took the opportunity to capture a photo of a photo of good ol' Geoff (I'm OLD GEOFF!!!) from "back in the day." It was on the wall of his parents' house, so I am sure I'm violating some sort of bro-code by sharing it here, but....it's simply too amazing NOT to share.

Geoff Heeter, late-70s model.

So here's to you, Heets! Thanks for making the trek with me, bro. And I've gotta say, dude, if you'd been a singer, with your flowing mullet, you could have given Shaun Cassidy a run for his money.

And that's the story of The New Brohemians and their birding victory over the itinerant Bohemians.

The New Brohemians Head North

The unrelenting winter was slowly turning my mind space to slush and mush when I realized, in a rare moment of clarity, that the perfect curative prescription was adding a life bird to Ye Olde Life List. You may recall, gentle blog readers and lurkers, that I have previously broached the subject of the life list.

I'd recently broken my self-imposed ban on list-serves dealing with bird sightings and the two that I subscribed to represented opposite ends of the spectrum. The Ohio Birds list-serv had reports of great birds from around the Buckeye State, but very, very few species that would require a new check mark on the life list. And NARBA, the North American Rare Bird Alert gave me great birds that were at least 2.5 million miles away in places like Caribou Sac, Yukon and Blown-out Flip-Flop Key, Florida. Most were a bird too far.

What I needed was an attainable goal. And there it was, right there (unchecked) in the middle of my life list and making regular appearances on the Michigan Birds List Serv: The Bohemian waxwing.

I posted on Facebook that I was planning this quest and my friend and fellow birder Geoff Heeter (see photo above) sent me a message asking if I needed a co-pilot. The Heets is a fun dude. So of course I said "Sure." [If you'd like further insight into the humanoid critter we call Geoff Heeter, visit his business website, or his birding festival website, or my earlier post here in BOTB about the trip.

So it was all set: the Brohemians were going after the Bohemians.
Massive amounts of gear.

Geoff arrived late on Sunday afternoon at my mom's house in Marietta. He bolted a plate of food, and we loaded up all of my gear (weighing several tons) into his vehicle. Then I folded myself into the passenger seat like some contortionist getting into a Houdini submersion box. The level of discomfort I was to experience during the next three days nearly wiped out the gratitude I owed Heets for agreeing to drive. We could have taken the Birdmobile, but its track record on snowy, icy roads is scary poor.

So, riding uncomfortably in Geoff Toyota truck, now known forevermore as The Back Breaker, we hit the highway headed north to Bowling Green, Ohio, where my friend Annie had agreed (surprisingly) to let us crash for the night. On the drive we spoke of many things, of cabbages and kings, of bees with no stings, of LeBron with no rings, of caged birds that don't sing, and so on.
Birding junk in the trunk.

We passed through Toledo and then Detroit mumbling our respects, respectively to Jamie Farr and Eminem. The farther north we got, the fewer birds we encountered. In fact our bird list, upon stopping for gas and tire air in the town of Old Gregg, Michigan, was:
European starling
Rock pigeon
Mourning dove
American kestrel
Red-tailed hawk
American crow
Snow bunting
Canada goose
some flying ducks
sky pepper

It was not looking good. Yet we pressed on, blindly optimistic that ours was a quest worth taking.

By late in the day we reached the town of Harbor Springs, MI. This is the home of our my friend Sally, who had responded to my query on the MI-Birds listserv asking about Bohemians. She had seen a huge flock of them in Harbor Springs that very day and we were welcome to come up. She, however, was wisely leaving town with her husband before we arrived.

The Michigan birders from the list-serv were very helpful and generous in sharing their BOWA sightings. Geoff and I mapped all of the sightings and concluded that Harbor Springs gave us the best shot—recent intel, plus it was not as far north as Sault Ste. Marie, where MOST of the sightings were clustered. And, being a Michigan native, Geoff was somewhat familiar with the area. [During the next 36 hours I would hear about every youthful misadventure young Master Heeter was involved in during summers spent in Harbor Springs. We'd go past a house and he'd wax nostalgic about some young lassie and a warm can of Hamm's beer. Lucky for us, the statutes of limitations on most such escapades were expired.]

We followed Sally's directions to the letter and found the fruiting trees the waxwings had been, apparently, occupying non-stop for the past month. Most of these trees were along the lakefront streets and nearly all were stripped almost bare of fruit. Not a good sign.
But we could see ample evidence of the carnage—of the raw masticating power of the roving Bohemians.
The snow was stained from the juice of thousands of crushed berries.


We loafed around the harbor and its springs enjoying the quiet of a waxwing-free winter's afternoon. Common goldeneye and common mergansers edged their way onto the trip list. The temperature began to drop from a balmy 12 degrees F so we changed strategies.

We went to the pet store.

I figured it might sell bird seed and therefore the owner might know another local bird watcher and that local bird watcher would know where else we could go looking for the waxies.

Bingo! Within 30 minutes I was talking to a nice woman who was, indeed, a local bird enthusiast. She'd had the waxwings in her yard that morning. We got directions and headed out to her rural home, racing the daylight, which was doing its best to disappear into Lake Michigan.

Then we got lost. Found a general store. Got directions. Found the woman's house and yard, now 100-percent devoid of Bohemian waxwings.

The Waxwing/Bunting Lady's house. She was both nice and helpful.

"They come every morning to eat the fruit on that tree right in front of my living-room window!"

I muttered to myself, feeling slightly wounded.

"Ya can't hardly shoo 'em away once they start eatin'!"

Wound now gushing blood.

"Yeah, I didn't even know what they were 'til I talked to my daughter on the phone and we figgered it out!"

Wound: meet salt. Salt: wound.

Geoff pulled me away, toward Back Breaker. We needed to go elsewhere so I could have my missed-life-bird conniption fit in peace.

And here is where our luck changed ever so slightly. We ran into a big flock of snow buntings. you can read the tale of this in my recent post over at the 10,000 Birds blog.

Snow buntings. In a tree, of all things.

After enjoying the buntings and their weird, tree-perching behavior, we rolled back past the Waxwing Lady's house, just in case we were on an actual roll.

She came out again to chat with us. We told her about the snow buntings.

"Oh yeah, those things come to our feeders round the back of the house every day, all winter!"

I felt my knees begin to buckle.

Back to town we went, but it was to late to see any more birds. Instead we added planked white fish to our gastronomic life lists, got some affordable hotel rooms and crashed out, with visions of Waxwing/Bunting Lady's birds dancing in our heads.

My room had plaid wall paper which made me think I might be sleeping inside a giant Christmas present.

Ahh. Sleep. Let me drift until tomorrow, when I will take on the Zenlike aura needed to ADD THIS #$&(%(+@ BIRD to my life list. But, really, I'm not like that.

I'll continue the saga in my next post.
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