"Not Too Sharp, ARE Ya!"

    In New England, we often phrase questions as if they are statements of fact. We say things like "Not too sharp, are ya?"  almost daring the subject to challenge what we already know to be true; there is no doubt in our minds. My father used to say that particular thing to me when I had done something he thought was dumb, which was often. It's usually nice to have company when you do something dumb. Even if you can't totally shift the blame to the other person, it feels a touch less lonely if you can share the corner on stupid. In this case, I shared my lack of sharpness with this Sharp-shinned hawk. "Oh ya! Who's stupid now? He's got the name, not me!"



     Yesterday, I was working on a slide show for a public presentation. I was under a deadline, so of course, the electricity went off and on five times in twenty four hours. This scrambled my computer in a big way making it very frustrating. Deep in concentration, I was chewing my cuticles, swearing at the computer, and bashing keys against my better judgment. At least once, I'm sure the computer spit back at me. I hunched over the keyboard, haggard with a glazed look in my eyes. I was so  absorbed in getting my project done that I hadn't tied my crazy hair back nor had I put on a bra. I don't think I had brushed my teeth, either.
     All of a sudden, there was a thunderous crash into a living room window. It was so loud I thought for a second the glass had broken. The magnitude of the sonic boom was such that I couldn't tell just which window had been struck, the confusion compounded by both of my dogs barking like maniacs. Leaping up on the surge from my last frayed nerve, I ran outside and found this Sharp-shinned hawk on the deck. It was alive, but disabled. It glared at me with one wing askew, its beak open and panting, clear signs of bird stress. It had the same look I did!
     Empathy kicked in and reflexively, I went to reach for it, but stopped myself.  Its hooked beak and talons made me think better of it. I had to act quickly before the dogs showed up or the poor bird became hypothermic. It was about forty degrees out and the wind was blowing, but I pulled my shirt off for the hawk. Having watched enough shows on falconry, I knew to cover up its head. The cold wind whipped my hair into a cyclonic disaster and reminded me that my amply bosomed self was totally exposed out in the yard, so in I came with my feathered friend in a bundle. My hands were shaking. Mind racing, I wondered aloud if I had a box somewhere to put it in. "Where would I have put that phone number for the avian rescue people," I asked myself.
     My address book was on the dining room table, so I laid the hawk down and reached for it. Suddenly, the Sharpie extricated itself from my shirt and zoomed like a rocket into the living room. "Oh shit!" I screamed dashing in pursuit, leaving my shirt behind. The commotion incited the dogs to start a snarling fight provoking more screaming and yelling from me. My living room is thirty-two by thirty-two feet wide, but not adequate as an aviary for a bird with a two foot wing span, I can assure you. Grabbing a towel from the nearest bathroom, I booted the dogs out of the room, then closed the doors. Towel in hand, I scanned the upward bound perches like the ceiling fan and chandelier, but no angry hawk. "Where the hell could it be........." my eyes roamed the room. And there is was, perched atop the open lid of my laptop computer.
    I tossed the towel over the bird praying it did not poop on my keyboard which would have served me right, and took it outside. If it had not flown away immediately, I would have then gone looking for a suitable container and called avian rescue. Thankfully, it swooped away to the branch of the tree where it's perched in these photos. It took a minute to collect itself, just long enough for me to grab my camera for these shots. I'm hoping that it is okay out there. I'm sure it's better off than with me, no matter how kind my intentions. When it came to the Sharp-shinned, I was, as my father would have said, "Not too sharp." Now, where did I put my shirt?
 
(By the way, I think the hawk was chasing a Blue Jay when it struck the window, which wasn't too bright. It did fix whatever was ailing my computer, though. Remember, it is unlawful to possess hawks or their parts. All wild birds in Maine are protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 (MBTA). If you need help to rescue a bird, click here on AVIAN HAVEN. Let the professionals handle it. It's better for the bird and better for you, too. You could go to jail.)

Ya Win Some, Ya Lose Some...........

Dale Earnhardt said "Ya win some, ya lose some and ya wreck some." Of course, he was talking about NASCAR racing, but I'm talking turkey. For at least thirty years, I've been roasting colossal birds for the holidays. Getting the biggest turkey I could find has always been an ego thing with me. This year it was twenty three pounds. Now I know some of you are going to say "Well, that's not so big! My frail, ancient grandmother cooked a forty pounder!" But bear in mind that we only had eight people eating my dinosaur. This was our first Thanksgiving without either of my children home which was a distressing element for me; I found myself quickly teary over not too much for days prior. So I had to keep myself really busy and cooking a ridiculously large turkey seemed just the thing. I'm a reasonably good cook. Not much in the kitchen intimidates me. James Beard, the famous chef said "The only thing that will make a souffle fall is if it knows you are afraid of it." That is the attitude I employ in all things culinary. The cooking triumvirate which instills terror in the hearts of the novice - pie crust, rice or gravy, come easily to me. But every decade or so, my confidence takes a nap, or I do, while I should be paying attention to the cooking. This was the year for things to go to hell in the kitchen. My race car skidded off the tracks and crashed. Had I made a souffle, it would not have merely fallen but would have blown up! Though the turkey was delicious, it was the ugliest bird I've ever cooked in  my life! It fell off the bone. I don't mean just tender, but literally, fell away from the bone such that it was impossible to carve. All that could be done was to artfully arrange hunks and pieces in a heap on a platter.  Then, there was the gravy. Eventually. The meal was served an hour later than I had told guests to arrive. Additionally, I had lied to at least one guest having said that dinner would be served an hour earlier than I actually intended to serve because that person NEVER gets here on time. The gravy would not thicken no matter what I did to it. I added additional roux, then just plain flour. Then I resorted to corn starch. I had to plead to my new best friend Arrowstarch a second time, too. I had such a rolling boil going on the stove that my face has swollen from a protracted gravy facial! I was thankful that there were several meals worth of just appetizers and that the wine was flowing like Niagara. By the time I served, everyone was so hungry and drunk that I could have served unadorned Spam and preserved my image as a kitchen goddess. I noticed that the leg of one of my good dining room chairs had been gnawed. Initially, I blamed one of my dogs but realized it was probably a guest. Oh well, there is always next year and another race. As Dale said, "Ya win some, ya lose some and ya wreck some."

This Sharp-shinned Hawk glowered from a tree branch on Thanksgiving Day. It was hunting birds at my feeders.

"When is that turkey going to be done, anyway?????"

                                                                                     

Bird On A Wire

I am convinced that this is the same Sharp Shinned hawk that I posted a couple of days ago. It was in almost the same place on Rt 209, but on the opposite side of the road. The road runs along the edge of Center Pond and the utility lines travel part of the way then cross the road. The hawk likes to hang out on the wires, hunting. There are lots of small birds, snakes and rodents. The wires make a perfect place to sit and wait. I look for the bird every time I drive by there and most often am rewarded. Sometimes, it sits high in the oak trees that line the ledge above the road, but seems to prefer the wires once the trees leaf out. As long as I stay in my car, it knows I'm there watching, but doesn't seem too bothered by me. That's right: I didn't even get out of my car for these shots. And, only the hawk, God and I will ever know if I was in my bathrobe or not.

Tree Swallow

I love Tree Swallows. They are so social and chatty. These are nesting in a box on Haskell Point in Phippsburg on Rt 209. They are notorious for nesting in Blue Bird houses. In this part of the world, there are far more Tree Swallows in Blue Bird houses than Blue Birds. I did see an Eastern Blue Bird on the Heron Cove Road last Friday, though. It was thrilling!














































This is a Sharp Shinned hawk. It was sitting on a utility wire not too far from the Tree Swallows. 'Sharpies' are notorious for picking off small birds in mid air. They are swift, deadly fliers and zoom like fighter jets after prey birds. Sharpies are easily confused with Cooper's hawks, but I'm pretty sure this is a Sharpie.