Ducks in the Pool

They’re back! And when they arrive, it’s with a big splash! 

Who is “they”?

One of the true and delightful rites of early spring in my life is the arrival of the male and female ducks who unfailingly land and plop down in the water-filled cover of our neighbor’s above-ground pool. It’s going on 10 years that I’ve “experienced” them. Sadly, the average lifespan of a duck is less than 10 years, so is our time together nearing an end? Or might one of the many offspring who have sprung here pick up where his or her parents left off.

Stop! These lovely creatures have just arrived and already I am focusing on their departure when there is another wonderful beginning right in front of me.

Their Story

Every year the ducks arrive soon after the last snow and thus the spring saga begins. They spend some time swimming in the pool cover, and disappear at times, usually evenings, when together they locate the best spot for Mama to lay her eggs and keep them warm. Unlike some other avian species, only the mother is allowed to sit on the eggs while Papa guards the nest and forages for food.  

It’s interesting how she forms her nest. It begins as a 1-to-6-inch bowl-like depression in soft ground into which she plops, and once plopped, that’s where she stays. Instead of bringing materials to the nest, she reaches for brush and vegetation from her perch to both cushion the nest and hide it from view.  Once she lays her eggs, she plucks the soft, downy feathers from her breast to cover and insulate them. Discretion and safety is the watch word for this entire process and believe it or not, in the 10 years I’ve been observing this springtime ritual, only once have I seen Mama with her ducklings waddling behind her.

As I wrote this little piece and did some additional research on one of my favorite wildlife species, I learned some interesting facts about ducks.

  • Although they are “monogamous,” males are known to have “dalliances” with other female ducks.
  • When their wings flap like crazy, be aware they can actually propel their owners up to 55 miles per hour.
  • Quacking? Only females quack; makes merely make a grunting, guttural sound.
  • When breeding season is over, ducks shed their feathers and are unable to fly for 3—4 weeks, a highly helpless time for them.
  • Ducks have a varied diet. They don’t dive in water, but will eat bugs and plants along the surface. They otherwise forage for seeds, worms, snails, etc.

Like all nature’s creatures, ducks have their own special stories to tell, and when they do, they put a smile on my face and joy in my heart.

Happy Spring!

Photo by Photo by Liudmyla Shalimova: https://www.pexels.com/photo/ducks-swimming-in-a-body-of-water-19824820/

A View From 1970

As rain pelted on our windows, the temperature also plummeted and brought with it a deluge of gropple that coated the grass. This is spring. Ha!! In other words, it was indoor time. Feeling bored and restless, I dug through some old files and stuff, and came across this little piece I wrote back in 1970! It’s certainly not as appropriate today, but I thought I’d share its raw simplicity with you.

The little piece

Strange things are happening to a certain mass of individuals we call mankind. Like just the other day I was downtown and on that particular day, the gray streets, huge buildings, and a large mass of mankind roaming about aimlessly, gave me this feeling of panic(I’d been feeling this way a lot lately), like I was lost in a prison with all those people and couldn’t breathe.

I became very depressed, so I walked up to some executive looking guy (briefcase and all) and I asked him, or tried to, “Sir, don’t you ever get depressed being here in the city all the time? Don’t you ever long for the green grass and…”

“Grass!! How DARE you approach me young man. You deserve everything you’re going to get, you, you, you … PUSHER!!”

“Sir, I…” After a vain attempt to try and relinquish the accusation that was thusly levied on me, I found myself admitting something I’d never even done. (My God, I’ve never even seen the stuff!)

I was arrested and given a fair trial. I told my story like I’ve just told you and the man told his, and well, here I am spending the next 25 years of my life in prison.

No, I don’t feel angry. Somehow, I’ve become resigned to it all. I figure if I’m good, I can get out on parole in 10 years or so.

You know, though, it’s funny. I haven’t had that panicky feeling in a long time…

Picture by Photo by Guy Hurst: https://www.pexels.com/photo/cells-in-prison-16293842/

Meditating with my Horse in Spring

I went to see my old horse yesterday. His name is Buzzy; he’s a retired Standardbred racehorse, and I’ve had him since he was 8.

Yesterday was a lovely April Fools Day with the temperatures in the mid-50s under a sunny sky in a part of the country where 10 inches of snow have been known to fall in May.

Today I joined Buzzy in the small lean-to in his also small corral, picking my way through the mud that is officiating whatever spring we are going to have now, before the May snow, that is. Buzzy is blind, but his ears and nose are faultless and when he heard the crinkle of the carrot bag I brought, he stuck his nose out in his blind way of moving and slowly ambled to me.

There we were, together, standing in spring mud while I doled out the mini-carrots to him one by one. His winter blanket is now off, and I was able to brush off the caked mud on his face, neck and body. He is shedding and I love brushing all the winter-born hair off his body. He likes to be groomed. I like to groom him. It’s a meditative thing – creating pleasure in a simple way for an old being. For this human, it’s soothing – watching the geese pair as they devotedly waddle together,  the wasps who have awakened from their winter nests, and the other horses lollygagging in the first warm sun of the season.

Buzzy is 32, and that is old for a horse – VERY old!

I wonder how many more years, seasons, and days we will have together. Hopefully years, more likely seasons, hopefully, more than days.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Losing a Beloved Fur Friend

Toys, untouched now, scattered across the floor.
Bowl, crusty with dried, uneaten food.
Leash hangs, unused — yesterday, today, tomorrow.
A deathlike grip on silence fills this place that is no longer a home.
The little life I fed, walked, played and cuddled with for 12 years
Took a different path, a journey where life is forever snuffed.

This goodbye is the worst — the pain is excruciating, much worse than losing a human
Will it ever end?
This pain of losing the one thing that gives true, pure unconditional love and happiness, expecting nothing in return.

Addendum

I have lost many pets in my life, and the pain never gets easier. I grieve for each and every one of them. Right now, a good friend of mine is facing the potential loss of a beloved pet, and her pain ignites the grief I feel for each and every one of my bygone babies.

If you are not a pet person, you may not understand the horrific pain that comes with the loss of a beloved fur friend. I provide this link which may help you, as well as all pet lovers, understand why this grief is so passionate.

Why losing a pet hurts so much

When You Were a Kid

Remember when you were a kid and all the old people in your life said, “Back when I was a kid…”?

Back When

I swore I would never say that, but here goes – I believe my childhood was about as good as it gets and far better than that of today’s kids – for myriad reasons,

I was a child in the latter 1950s and the 1960s. Life was simple compared to life today. Phones back then had no dials or pushbuttons. They were plain, black, boxes and required you to pick up the receiver and tell an operator what number you wanted. I only used this kind of phone once, when I was 5 y/o, and it was scary talking to a black thing that talked back. Later phones evolved to have rotary dials, still black, and later into phones with pushbuttons that were available in several models.

An old TV with a monochrome kinescope on wooden table. 3d

Television sets were also smallish, usually black-framed, with rabbit ears used to fine-tune the pictures, which, of course, were in black and white. When color came along it was like mana from heaven! I’ll never forget seeing the Wizard of Oz in sparkling, dazzling color.

Play

As kids we played. We KNEW HOW to play! We played outdoors in all seasons, all weather. We played school, we played with Matchbox toys in the dirt pile behind my best friend’s house, we played Barbies, trading outfits and making up stories where our dolls were the actors. We played with jacks, and paper-dolls; we rode our bikes, and pretended they were horses. We walked everywhere and there was never a fear of being kidnapped.

On summer days, we waited in anticipation for the ice cream man. Nickels and dimes were clutched tight in grubby little hands and handed over for icy prizes. My choice was always Hidden Treasure – a plop of orange ice cream hiding a plastic figure that was basically useless except for the thrill it gave me to discover it.

Remember Fizzies? That’s a long gone treat of small disks dropped into water to create a bubbling liquid. They came in different flavors and colors and were highly coveted among the childhood gang.

We also played impromptu group games including kickball, red rover, and tag. We laughed, we argued, and we had an exhausting, fun-filled time, all designed without the interference of any adults.

Playtime Today

Lately I have had a delirious desire to play. The other day we went into an old-time toy and craft store. It was like strolling into a time warp of wonder and want where the toys, games, and puzzles called out to the child in me. What was completely missing were electronic games, phones, or today’s “toys” that are anything but.

There’s so much more to say about my childhood and the play options it is inspiring in me today. I could go on and on, regaling about other toys and games, and maybe I’ll drop a note or two along the way. And if you have any childhood play memories to share, I would love to learn about them.

Plastic Hazards for Pets

You know those little plastic things you have to pull off of milk and other cartons to open them? Everytime I pull off one of those things, I get angry thinking of all the harm just that little piece of plastic can potentially do to both domestic pets and wildlife.

And then there are the myriad other plastic hazards that are part of our everyday life! I feel guilty that I do not stop using the products that present danger, but the issue is, they are everywhere! I know I cannot directly affect the huge piles of plastic-based garbage that suffocate our oceans, but I can do something about the plastic hazards that threaten my dogs.

Following are a number of hazards that arise from the use of plastic and plastic packaging.

Choking

Everytime I pull off one of those small plastic pieces on cartons of milk or juice, I think about the potential danger should one of my dogs get ahold of it.

Intestinal Blockage

An intestinal blockage is serious and can be fatal if not treated quickly. I once had a pug who ingested something that almost killed him. Fortunately, a good animal surgeon removed a pinecone from his intestines.

Chemicals

Plastic packaging often contains chemicals that can affect a pet’s hormones causing growth, development and reproductive health issues.

Entrapment

Imagine: you are out for the afternoon, and you have left your normally trustworthy dog alone in the house. You come home to find his nose had found its way into one of the holes in the plastic packaging used to hold 6-packs of your favorite beverage together. Although he is panting, both from having his breathing restricted and his anxiety of being trapped, it turns out that after lots of cuddles and a few treats, he is okay. You are lucky.

What Can You Do?

Short of forever refusing to purchase products packaged in plastic, here are a few more practical things you can do:

  • Look for products packaged from recyled materials or cardboard.
  • Use airtight containers to store foods.
  • Be mindful of how you dispose of plastic: cut up any packaging that can strangle or choke wildlife.
  • Be vigilant about the potential dangers of plastic packaging for your pets.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“

To Cell or Not to Cell

I had a disturbing “thing” happen the other day. Now, first, a caveat. I have a smartphone, I use it, but I really don’t like it. My digital dinosaur preference is my laptop.

The smartphone is a necessity, I admit, but when it comes to long text conversations, or other cellphone input requirements, I’m off to my laptop.

Now, a few notes about me. I have trouble keeping my fingers from “dancing” (they shake), my eyesight sucks, and I’m not one to be permanently attached to my phone. In fact, I often leave it at home or in another room and when I’m out communing with nature, it is nowhere to be found.

So, admittedly, I am in the “senior” society, which doesn’t mean I’m a technology washout, but does have some other characteristics. In my early career days, I was trained on the most advanced computer technology of that time, and I was good at it. I am still good at it as I am the computer guru in our household. I also taught business communications in college for 15 years which necessitated using and teaching students various digital tools.

But here’s the rub – I do not like using cellphones for anything long and involved. In fact, I’m not a cellphone fan in general. Tablet is about as low as I prefer to go.

Another issue here is the type of request. Prior to my recent dentist appointment, I received a request to complete a form that was sent to me via text. Right off the bat I was annoyed by this intrusion into my privacy, which became outrage when I got to the part where they wanted my photo and a picture of the front and back of my driver’s license? Huh?? No way! To make matters worse, you could not advance in the form unless you filled in all areas. Fool that I was, I didn’t just close off. Instead, my Catholic school good girl thing took over and I uploaded a photo of my dog and a random UPC code for the driver’s license. .

Okay, so the thing is, different strokes for different folks. I cannot pretend to claim I am the spokesperson for the senior crowd, but I can espouse the need to recognize that all things digital, especially things like involved medical forms, should not be distributed by text especially in this day of rampant fraudulent activity.

I have spoken.

Amen.

It Only Takes One

I had lunch the other day with a very dear friend who I’ve not seen for a while – silly me for not partaking in such rich conversation and astute observations (hers). We had worked in several corporate environments together many moons ago, none of which we espoused with great joy and enthusiasm.

So, we reminisced and groused about our past professional gigs, and grumbled about the many toxic work environments that existed then, and perhaps even more, today.

And then my friend said something that perhaps should seem obvious about workplaces, but never has in my many, many moons working in many, many different places.

“It only takes one person,” she said. “Only one toxic person can pollute an entire organization.”

Well, do pardon me for perhaps stating the obvious, but this seeming innocuous comment lit a lightbulb of “Wow” for my old and humble self.

Please Pick Up the Poop, People

100_0050It happened again today. My spitfire puppy, Rosie, and I were off for a pre-rain walk when my foot suddenly slid as I took a step into something gross and squishy. Instantly I knew.  The pooper-scooper had not found its way to this part of the block – an all-too-frequent occurrence in this, our quiet suburban neighborhood.  What’s worse, there are multiple pooping culprits here based on the variations in size and color of the many poops scattered about. Let’s face it, most dogs poop when they’re on the beloved leash for a walk, and there are those owners who religiously clean up after them. I am one of those owners. However, there are those owners who simply don’t. Are they lazy? Careless? Believe in the ultimate “let nature be nature” approach?

Ugh, I for one am sick of hopping home and having to turn on the outdoor spigot to remove the by then the malodorous crap (literally) from my shoe. What’s a step-in-poop soul supposed to do?

One answer I came up with is to be hyper-vigilant about every footfall I take on a walk. This is not ideal for me because I’ll miss much of the enjoyment I get from walking my precious pups. On the other hand, looking down might help control my other walking issue which is the frequent trips taken  by one who is not graceful.

Another idea is to call the local animal control folks and complain. Scratch that thought.

Educate by example? Unfortunately, it is a rare occurrence that one of my dogs’ poops within close proximity of one of the offenders, so scratch that one, too.

The one I think about often is this: I know the worst offenders who, get this, have two dogs they take on two miles-long treks each day. Their pups’ poops now adorn the entire town. What I am thinking of is catching up with them one day with one of my dogs, a blue poop bag in hand, and asking them what brand of poop-scoop bag they use for their dogs!  And of course, I’ll go on to tsk-tsk about all the unpicked-up poops ( not to mention those of their dogs, of course) scattered about, and what a terrible nuisance, not to mention health hazard, they are. <grin>

Result? Will I succeed in shaming these two into picking up the poop or piss them off so they make sure their dogs always poop on my lawn. Oops – never thought of this.

Perhaps it’s back to the pooper-scooping drawing board.

 

Dehuminizing with a Humanizer

So, I’m having my morning coffee and going through my usual digital news stuff, and I come across the Humanizer! Just consider the name!! It sounds like some sort of evil, human-destroying thing. It is!

I can’t express enough here my total revulsion for what this thing is. It’s a tool that goes through AI generated material (another dehumanizing technology) and makes it “human.” In other words, it replaces the “real” human being in the writing process. Now the companies that sell these things don’t say that, not at all. Here is what one site says proudly about their product:

“Our platform uses advanced algorithms to analyze content and produce output that mimics the way human (sic) write.”

In other words, what this is all about is to “hide” material that comes from an AI tool. I used to write for a company that just sent out an email to its writers, and this is what it says:

“As many of you know, our team is launching a Humanizer tool for writers to polish and fact-check AI-generated content at the end of this week. It is not replacing our human-written content process, which is still our top priority, focus, and core offering. However, we recognize that times have changed, and as with every organization in our industry, we are adapting and evolving with the available technology. We still believe that human-written content leads to the best performance.”

Read through the lines and you’ll see that this company is looking to eventually replace its humans with a humanizer.

In yet another aspect of the impending doom of the humanizer tool, an article by MIT researchers discusses the allocation of blame potentially associated with the output of humanized AI:

“The way we allocate responsibility is complicated when AI is involved. AI is simply a tool created and used by humans, but when we describe it with human characteristics, people tend to view it very differently. It can be seen more as an agent with independent thought and the ability to create.”

Besides being sickened, I am also terrified. We are not dummies, and we can think ahead as to what this means: digitally generated material where the tool is charged with the responsibility for what’s in the content, content that will not be created by talented, experienced writers. So, in other words, who, or what, is responsible for what?

Sigh.

So much for the little newsletter I wrote and crafted by hand when I was a kid. Today’s kids will press a few keys and voila! No brains. No creativity. No life….