NOTE TO THE READER: I would like to apologize in advance for any typos I may have missed prior to publishing this post. I’m still under the influence of a colorful assortment of muscle relaxers, pain killers, vitamins, blood pressure meds and God knows what else and using Google Translate to convert this from my native language, Gibberish, into what I’m told is English, at least on this side of the pond.
The weather system that brought torrential rains, high winds and tornadoes across a wide swath of the southern United States and kept the area under severe weather warnings most of the day roared through here this morning bringing torrential horizontal downpours and winds of up to 65 miles per hour. Luckily, it was a fast moving system and was out of here by noon. While we escaped without damage, several surrounding counties reported downed trees, power outages and at least one mobile home blown 5 feet off it’s foundation by straight line winds!
By late afternoon the brisk winds had scattered the clouds enough to allow the sun to peek through from time to time but our weather guessers are saying to enjoy it while it lasts. A chance of rain each day and a steady decline in temperatures is predicted for the remainder of the week.
At least it ain’t snow!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, while I was sitting on the foot of the bed this afternoon, staring out the window, waiting for it to get dry enough to go outside and play, an old friend appeared in Burd Town. I call him Leroy and he brought with him an epiphany.
Leroy is a Mourning Dove (Zenaida macroura) You didn’t know I could type in Latin, did you? I didn’t either! The species is so named because they mate for life and, if they lose that mate, spend the remainder of their lives with their flock but alone nonetheless. There are at least a dozen pairs in the flock Leroy belongs to and they arrive each afternoon to feed on the seeds scattered by the other species feasting overhead in Frankie’s collection of feeders.
Leroy is always the first to arrive in Burd Town, landing on the peak of our storage shed, overlooking the feeders and the smorgasbord below. After carefully scanning the area for marauding felines, especially if Sam isn’t outside, he’ll land on the ground, eat his fill and fly off into the trees on the ridge. A few minutes later he’ll return to his rooftop perch followed by the rest of the flock which lands on the nearby power lines. After once again scanning the area Leroy alights in the middle of the feast, apparently signaling his friends that it is safe to feed.
Incidentally, if Sam is outdoors when he arrives, Leroy thinks nothing of landing and feeding within a few feet of his four legged guardian. Sam loves watching him and his feathered friends. My only concern is that I’ll gaze out the window one day and see Sam flying around the yard. Wouldn’t that give a rogue kitty cat a heart attack?
Once the other birds land Leroy flies back up to his perch and watches over his friends while they eat. On more than one occasion I have seen Leroy swoop low over the flock, startling them into flight, when a cat comes within sight. Watching him buzz the flock I can’t help thinking that if I could figure out away to outfit Leroy with itty bitty Hellfire missiles there would be a lot fewer felines stalking Burd Town! Cats or not, Leroy is always the first of his flock to arrive and the last to leave.
Now for the epiphany:
As we get closer and closer to Election Day next Tuesday the campaign ads, propaganda, slander and outright lies on the television (Man, whoever dubbed that thing the Idiot Box sure hit the nail on the head!) are building to a screaming crescendo. Trying to make sense of all the crap they’re shoveling I’m struck by the realization that if the people we chose to look after our interests and represent us in government were half the bird brain this guy is we’d all be a damn sight better off!
I wonder if I can get away with writing in Leroy the Mourning Dove on my ballot.
Anybody want the soap box? I’m done.