Archive for January, 2009

Deer Browse

Saturday, January 24th, 2009

deer

Some people, good hearted souls they may be, think to help the deer survive the winter is as simple as throwing out some hay or corn, unfortunately they are doing more harm than good. Deer survive the winter not by eating grass and corn but by eating woody plants–check your shrubs. Their ability to gain nutrients from their food changes with the seasons and, with the amount of cold and snow we’ve had thus far this winter, that means they need browse to survive.

Last week I did some pruning on a couple of apple trees that hadn’t been touched in about 5 years. When I finished cutting out water suckers, topping off one of the trees and generally cleaning out the middle of both, I had more branches on the ground than were left on the trees. While I intend to chip these up come spring–or at least what is left of them–they are left where they fell for the deer to feed on. Considering the number of deer hanging around and the amount of branches, I don’t think this browse will last that long. In the photo there are 8 deer around the browse itself and another 3 laying down back in the windbreak. At the rate they’re going at it, I expect it’ll be down to uneatable stuff in a couple of days.

A Great Event

Tuesday, January 20th, 2009

Hundreds of thousands of people packed together in a mass of humanity, all with hope for a better day which may not be realized. Experts making wild predictions, both pro and con, as to what will transpire based on the experience gain while being part of events leading up to this day. A huge uptick in commericalism that may lead to increased revenue and economic growth; pumping thousands if not millions into the economy of a single city. A media frenzy fueling all of this with 24/7 coverage and bulletins inside of bulletins and indepth interviews with those involved as well as spectators.

Obama’s inaugural? Nope, Super Bowl LXII. We Americas know what’s important.

My Political Blog

Sunday, January 18th, 2009

If you’re looking for some sort of left/right political comments on this blog, I’m sorry to have to disappoint you. It isn’t that I don’t have political opinions that I am, under the right set of circumstances, quite willing to express, but I’d much prefer to do them in person rather than sound off on a forum like this—or any other one for that matter. I’ve been a party to and taken part in a lot of arguments about politics in my life but I find the current use of blogs as a means to put forth one’s one-sided political opinions nothing more than a way to bully the opposition, stroke one’s ego and add misinformation to the pile of political horse manure that is out there. The sad thing is that most bloggers have to use bits and pieces of misinterpreted or completely fabricated information to make their point, much of which originated with and/or can be traced back to either the blogger or some organization that has a political ax to grind. I mean, how tough is it to link your blog to another without having to do any original thinking anyway? While in a face-to-face argument these kinds of things can either be refuted, ignored or forgotten, once they appear in print it is out there forever where others of like ilk can refer to it. All these blogs do is add to the huge mass of misinformation available and confuse those without the means or the wherewithal to research them.

Of course the above is a political comment but it is bipartisan and the last one I’ll make. Feel free to cite me if you want.

Zapping Squirrels

Friday, January 16th, 2009

I’ve been feeding the birds for a long time. In fact, we have home movies of birds at a feeder when we first moved into this house over 45 years ago and that feeder was one we brought with us from our previous home. Over time I’ve used a variety of feeders—most hung from a tree or the eaves but some on posts, others on the ground. At one point I built a couple that used the swivel off furniture casters to rotate with the wind. Of late, however, we have stuck to one feeder, a three tube variety with a large umbrella top to protect the seeds from rain and snow. It is attached to a pulley line so we can get it far enough from the deck to keep the cats from bothering the birds but make it easily accessible for refilling. It is located between a flowering crab and our deck just off our sunroom where we can enjoy the birds as we eat our breakfast and lunch, as well as entertaining our cats with “cat TV”.

Over the years as well, I have fed a variety of food from a mixture of “song bird” seeds to straight thistle seed to a cracked corn combination. About a dozen or so years ago, after doing some research, I hit on feeding straight sunflower seeds as the best for both the nutritional needs of the birds, to attract the largest variety and to minimize the number of feeders I had to care for. The only problem I encountered was the damn seed husks. In the spring, after the snow melted, there was a huge pile of black sunflower husks under the feeder which, since they hid a few uneaten seeds, made it a Mecca for mice. It also turns out that these husks are an excellent herbicide so even once the husks were cleaned up (no easy task) no grass would grow under the feeder and, since this spot was in front of the cellar door, it proved a prime source for bringing mud inside. As with any problem, if one is willing to throw money at it, there is a solution. In my case the solution was sunflower hearts. These shelled sunflower seeds, although more expensive, are husk free and the birds cleaned them up. Even at a price of about three times that of the whole seed, they are less bulky, last twice as long and given the cleanliness, are a bargain as far as I am concerned. That is until the squirrels showed up.

Considering that we live in a rural place where there are plenty of trees, including a large number of native nut species, it is surprising that it took the squirrels nearly 30 years to discover our feeder. My mother, who lived about 500 yards away, had problems with them for years—once they even carried her cheap plastic tube feeder down in the woods to clean it out at their leisure. In retrospect, it may well have been the use of sunflower seeds, but not long after I began feeding them the squirrels found us.

Now I’ve nothing against squirrels. For one thing, they’re cute and their antics around the feeder and with each other are entertaining. For another, they’re delicious, especially fricasseed or in stew—they taste more like chicken than chicken. But at the bird feeder these freeloaders are an expensive nuisance. It wouldn’t be too bad if they just ate a few seeds and left like the birds do, but they fill their stomachs, then their cheek pouches, carry away that food and, a few minutes later, come back for more. (I suspect they forget where the first load was stashed and never do eat it.) While they’re at the feeder, they aggressively keep the birds at bay. To top it off, their solution for getting at the seed in the feeder is to chew through whatever is between them and the food, destroying the feeder in the process.

Now there is a cottage industry that has grown up around keeping squirrels away from bird feeders. Books have been written, videos shot. One author even created a whole line of “Outwitting…” books after the success of his book, Outwitting Squirrels. (My older daughter coauthored one on dogs for the series as a matter of fact.) The problem is most of these methods work only briefly. Sooner or later the squirrels seem to find counter measures to combat each. They jump, shimmy and, seemingly, fly up, over, along and/or chew through anything that is used to keep a feeder away from them. In our case, they jumped from the deck railing, dropped down from the tree to the top of the feeder, and tightroped along the pulley line. The umbrella top didn’t bother them; they just slid off it onto the feeder tray, then sat there and chewed notches in it to make the trip easier. They ruined one feeder by chewing through the plastic seed ports so I replaced it with one with aluminum perches. We yelled at them from inside the sunroom, opened the door and “shooed” them away. All they did was move, defiantly, to the other side of the feeder. We even swung brooms, yard sticks and flyswatters at them, actually making contact sometimes. All they did was drop the 12 feet or so to the ground and return as soon as we went back inside. Even the cats proved no deterrent. Our biggest one nailed a few young ones which, apparently he found unappetizing, but the older, wiser adults stayed clear of him. He and the other two cats we allow outside have, apparently, lost interest. In the meantime, we watch the seed depth in the feeders drop and the amount we pay for seed increase.

Then my younger daughter gave us a solution. This past Christmas she and her husband gave us a Wild Bills Squirrel-Free Electronic Bird Feeder.

This feeder, a product of Nature’s Needs Inc., is a hopper-type feeder built around positive and negative charged electrical poles that are insulated from one another. One is the hanger which goes through the feeder and connects to the metal seed tray at the bottom. The second is a metal disc on the baffle at the top of the feeder which is connected to a metal ring at the bottom of the hopper. This ring also includes metal perches at the three lower seed ports of the feeder. If an animal, say a squirrel, makes contact with both poles by trying to climb down the hanger to the baffle or standing on the tray and attempting to eat from a lower port, he completes the electrical circuit and gets what the brochure calls “a static correction”. In other words, an electrical shock that is strong enough to surprise him and knock him off the feeder. The source of this current is a 9-volt battery.

Skeptical, I particularly filled and hung the feeder the day after Christmas and watched as the first squirrel approached. He jumped from the tree limb to the seed tray and kept right on going directly to the ground. Puzzled, he tried the down-the-hanger route. He was doing okay until he partly let go of the hanger and dropped to the baffle—and kept right on going to the ground. At this point he left. Apparently this was going to be a solution.

The next morning dawned rainy and cold. I looked out and here was one squirrel on the feed tray trying to chew his way into the feeder while a second that had figured out how to get under the baffle, was busily filling his seed pouches from on top of the seed hopper. You see, there is a flaw to this feeder. Apparently, to avoid overloading the circuit whenever the feeder gets wet, i.e. when it rains and/or snows, there is a fail-safe system that shuts down the current and only resets itself once it is dry. Since it was raining and the squirrels had not learned the system held a surprise for them, they were having a post Christmas feast—this new feeder was bigger, had more seed ports and, as one found out, had an easy access lid. We spent most of the day chasing squirrels.

I am happy to report, however, that once the feeder dried and reset itself it has worked as advertised. In fact, after a few “static corrections” the squirrels seem to have given up. They climb up the tree or on to the railing, look longingly at the feeder, tails flicking, but do not jump to it. They are now reduced to scavenging for fallen seed under the feeder. They have not, however gone away completely and I do fear that we have not seen the last of them for several reasons. First, sooner or later, one of them is going to discover the thing shuts off when it is wet. Second, according to the instructions the battery will only last a maximum of 3 months—less if there is a high number of “static corrections”—and it is going to shut down without my noticing or changing it. Third, the instructions are explicit about keeping everything clean of “film”—read bird poop—that will prevent contact and this film builds up fast. The fact that the company also offers replacement ports is a good indication that, sooner or later, something is going to be chewed. Finally, given the evolution of the squirrel, eventually they will grow some sort of insulated footgear that will allow them to circumvent the whole system. They can be persistent devils.

Addendum: A week after installing this feeder and watching mournful squirrels eyeing it I felt sorry for them so went out and bought a squirrel feeder. It is filled with cheap corn pellets that they don’t find particularly tasty but they are coping, waiting for the day they can get back at the sunflower seed.

Goodbye to the “Kicker”

Wednesday, January 14th, 2009

When you get to my age one of the first things you read in the morning paper—usually between the crossword puzzle and the sport’s page—are the obits. It is one of those habits that has gradually taken on a life of its own, done without thought on my part, a habitual search for something. Sort of like standing in front of the refrigerator door and not really knowing why you’re there. It does, however, have some merit. I do gain some information, usually about the life of a former acquaintance, colleague or maybe the wife of some guy I bowled against. Most are lives well lived and deaths that aren’t unexpected. Most, that is, except when I come across an obit of one of my former students. While accidents can happen to people at any age, when they die of one or the other of those maladies of “old age” it comes as a shock to me. How could it be that kids I knew when they were in their late teens be old enough to have become victims of one or the other of those things that should be taking out my generation?

That happened last week: A former student, age 61, died of a heart attack. It doesn’t seem possible.

Now this isn’t the first time this has happened, not even the first time in the last month. It is not that he was a special student, so gifted in some learned way that he was bound for greatness. In fact, if truth be told, he was an indifferent student in my math class. Nor was he an especially old and dear friend that I‘d had a close post-high school relationship with. (Although, this being a small place, in later years we both sold items in a local craft cooperative.) No, the thing that made him special was the memories that, seeing his obit, came back to me. You see, he was the first “kicker”.

(Disclaimer: I’m going by memory and not going back to look up dates but, given his age at death and the fact that he would have been 17 or 18 as a high school senior, I’m guessing he played football in the early to mid1960’s.)

In the 1960’s high school football in this area was entirely different than it is now. For one thing teams played in leagues that were geographically set up for all sports (male only, by the way) and not football specific divisions arranged according to the size of the schools to allow for a maximum of divisional “champions” (routinely with 2 -1 but overall losing records). In addition there were no sectional or state playoffs. A school played six or seven league games plus one or two nonleague ones for practice. In our case, we were in a seven-team league and played 8 games: six in the league and two nonleague, the second of which was traditionally played as the last game of the season against Greene. (This made no sense inasmuch as Greene had then, as it does now, about half again as many students as we did. This game was a traditional David vs. Goliath match in which Goliath not only won but inflicted a great deal of damage to David’s players.) In short, our high school team had three goals at the beginning of each season: win the league, go undefeated and beat Greene. Success at any one would be considered a good season. All three would make the team immortal. In the 60’s it was rare for any one of the three to happen. (Another might have been, given the limited number of male athletes, to come out of the Greene game with enough healthy players to field a basketball team.) One final difference: with school traditionally starting on the Wednesday after Labor Day, this was also the first day of football practice—July and August were for other things.

Aside from the above, things were pretty much the same then as now. Boys followed their fathers on to the gridiron. Families and friends gathered on Saturday to watch games—only one team in the league had lights and played on Fridays. It was a small town team from a small town school where games were played on real grass fields which; given multiuse, turned into quagmires in the rain and, at least once per season, snow. It was a game where boys became men and the men who fathered them didn’t think they knew more than the coach because they watched three or more pro games per week. And, oh yeah, there wasn’t much foot in football.

There were a couple of rules that prevented this. First, the point-after touchdown (PAT) could be scored by either kicking through the uprights, or moving the ball over the goal line with a run or successful pass. Either way, it was worth only a single point. Second, if a team gave up the ball by either punt or field goal try, the ball went to the defensive team either where they recovered it or, if it crossed the goal line and stayed there, at the 20-yard line. This latter rule meant that, as long as you had a kicker that could get it high enough early enough and kick it far enough, a field goal try was as good as a punt. That it was worth 3 points wasn’t a consideration since no one was that accurate anyway and failure to score was not consider a bad thing. With these two options for the kicking game, there wasn’t much call for a player that specialized in place kicking. If one came along and the coach recognized him, fine, otherwise kicking was an afterthought at best. That is until the first real kicker came along.

The story at the time was that it was his father’s idea and, given his closeness to his Dad, the father probably was responsible, maybe even pushed him into it. Nonetheless, the son practiced in the backyard kicking over telephone lines; against the neighbor’s house, whenever he could. He might not have been diligent about his school work, but he was about his kicking and, by the time he reached high school, he was good at it. Now this wasn’t some foreign, soccer style, sidewinder kind of kicking. It was straight ahead, Lou Groza style kicking: get behind the ball, line it up and boot it straight through. He was, for a high school player, able to hit them accurately from the 30-yard line in and rarely missed a PAT. In short, for that time and place he was a pioneering wonder, a specialist, and, because the coach wasn’t afraid to use him, a winner of football games. Touchdowns became a sure 7 points and fourth downs inside the 20 turned into 3. The team won games by slim margins, even beat Greene. Strangers showed up to watch and local sport’s writers took notice, sport’s page stories were written. Sure, he would have been more than an adequate football player as a back and defensive player but as a kicker, he was special. He also begat a culture whereby in the ensuing years the team had a series of kickers the like of which no local team has produced. Coaches changed and the kicking style changed but the kickers kept turning up, some good enough to continue on to the next level. So long is the list that, when the latest kicker was written up by a local paper, the writer failed to know the history and succession of kickers so the original wasn’t even acknowledged.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. Maybe it is because I remember standing behind an end zone on a crisp fall day and watching a 30-yarder off his toe, arcing high, tumbling end-over-end and splitting the uprights. Maybe it is because I remember this and think others should as well. Remembering that there was a time when things began and, when all is said and done, those who were there first should be remembered. RIP George Genung, you were the “kicker”.

Coming Back

Tuesday, January 13th, 2009

After a year of neglect, I’m preparing to write on this bilog again. Funny how, when you first start a thing like this, your have so much to say you write every day, sometimes two or three times, but, pretty soon it becomes an assignment, one you kind of get behind on, and, finally, say “to hell with it”. At least that’s what happened to me. It’s not that I ran out of things to say, it’s just that I ran out of the ambition to say them. Hopefully, I’m back enough to add a log or two to this site as time goes on.

BTW, in the time I’ve been gone I’ve lost my mother–passed away at 99 in March–and reach the next decade–70 in October–otherwise things are still much the same–golf, gardening, getting older/better.