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Feathered Cacophony

This morning bright and early

Against the window pane,

I heard a loud commotion

That might make me go insane.

 

About the same time last year,

It went on for 100 days,

At five o-clock every morning,

And left me in a haze.

 

I think it is the same one

That came again this year.

It makes me dread the springtime

I once held very dear.

 

You see… HE sees another

Reflected in the glass.

And he body slams the window

In order to harass…

 

This feathered spring intruder

Dressed in a bright red vest,

Staring right back at him

Threatening his nest.

 

Banging on the window,

He tries to chase away

His very own reflection

From the eggs his mate did lay.

 

So until the eggs are hatched,

And the robins do migrate,

My mornings will be ruined

No more sleeping late!!!

 

friendship lost

Was it disdain you cast in your glance,

As you passed me today on the street?

Will it be the new “waltz” we dance,

With regret that we ever did meet?

 

If we pass by each other one day

With no clouds at all in the sky

Will a tear slide down my face,

While memories of what might have been fly…

 

…Through my heart, fleeting visions of us,

On two paths that met one day?

I chose the one that would merge

And you took the one leading away.

 

My Dinner Guest

A very hungry bumble bee

I found out on my walk.

I invited her to dine with me,

And though she couldn’t talk…

 

She came along without protest

Happy to have me serve…

The wildflower blossom I picked for her,

Six-petaled bee hors d’oerve.

 

Once in the house, I seated her

As my honored guest,

Then I served her with a bee size drink…

My vintage nectar best!

 

A little sugar mixed

With water all together

And the happy bee was well revived

To survive this cold, spring weather.

 

She buzzed about and thanked me

For the sustenance,

And then she asked to be excused

With her little bumble dance.

 

I opened up my front door

To see her on her way

She said to look for her again

Some sunny summer day!

ImageImageImage

Bombus mixtus or Mixed Bumble Bee queens emerge after overwintering to begin the process of making a nest (typically in the ground) where she will begin to make wax pots to lay her eggs in.  You can help save these important pollinators by reducing use of herbicides and lawn chemicals in your yard.  If you find one on a cold day, help it out by providing a boost of carbohydrate energy.  You can wet a sponge or cotton with sugar water or prepackaged hummingbird food and offer it a drink.  The hungry bee will thank you for it.  Remember to “bee” nice to bees!

***Text and photographs copyright 2012 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

Writer’s Block…a “Waxing” Poem.

Writers block
the words won’t come
All I hear is a constant hum.

Jumbled thoughts
I try to pen…
but they’re all wrong and I begin again.

My paper’s due
in another week
Will my wax moth report ever be complete?

The Fairy Moth

Fairy moth on Oxeye Daisy, San Juan Island, WAIncurvariidae: Adela septentrionella

Fairy moth on Oxeye Daisy, San Juan Island, WA
Incurvariidae: Adela septentrionella Walsingham, 1880

The ethereal Fairy Moth, clothed with finespun silky metallic wings, waves fragile tendrils of anntennae sensing the aromatic fragrances of summertime as it rests on the petals of a daisy.

The Adela septentrionella, classified as a Micro-lepidoptera is a diurnal species. Males are known for enormously long antennae and both sexes are found taking nectar from blossoms other than their larval host plant, often sipping from the aromatic Ocean Spray blossoms common in the Pacific Northwest.

The name, Fairy Moth, comes from behavior associated with mate-finding in the species when the males aggregate to form dancing groups to which the females are attracted… and the courtship begins!

It Was Something Called LYME

The day I was bit,

by that little tick,

He was so clever,

Did I feel the stick?

 

Not once did I notice

A sting, itch, or prick,

Since with his own anaesthetic

He came equipped.

 

That “needle” he plunged

Down into my skin

carried anticoagulant

To make my blood thin.

 

He slurped it right up

From out of my vein

Liquid dinner for one

Parasite champagne.

 

There’s more to it though

Than a simple blood toast

This tick didn’t know

He was a parasite host.

 

A stealth pathogen

Living inside

Used that little tick’s saliva

To take a ride

 

Down into my vein,

As that hungry tick fed,

The stealth pathogen

Through my body did spread.

 

I didn’t know then

That the bite of this tick

Would leave me with something

That would make me so sick..

 

The stealth pathogen

Shaped like a corkscrew

Drilled all through my body…

I thought it was flu.

 

From my head to my toes

I ached every day

Wishing the pain

Would all go away.

 

Doctor to doctor

I went to in vain,

All shook their heads mystified

No diagnosis to be claimed.

 

My knees swelled one day

All my joints hurt,

But the red bullseye rash

Was the target alert!

 

It was one more clue

In the great mystery

That helped one wise doctor

To diagnose me.

 

The test came back,

“Positive” for LYME.

It could be cured,

If it had been caught in time.

 

That wasn’t the case,

Since for me it had been,

Days, months and years

And pain with no end.

 

I’m slowly improving

One day at a time.

From this awful disease

Spread by a tick called Lyme.

 

Chronic Lyme disease is a controversial diagnosis.   One many will not acknowledge until more research reveals how this organism has the ability to persist in its human host and evade antibiotics.   Borrelia burgdorferi, responsible for Lyme Disease is one of several pathogenic organisms carried by ticks.  Current research shows it can become resistant to antibiotics, enhanced partly by its ability to change life forms in its host.   Morphing into a cyst with its own body armor, it shields itself from antibiotics designed to penetrate the corkscrew form of the organism.  Once the antibiotics are stopped or no longer effective, the organism is free to begin replicating itself again.

***Text copyright 2011 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

Don’t Feed the….CAMEL!

 

 

Mona, I’ve heard isn’t doing so great

With all the snacks tourists feed her, she’s gained too much weight.

 

Now it’s affected her system “E” “N” “Do” “crine”

That’s not fun at all, no not a bit…WHEN…

 

One at a time, then two or three clumps

Mona’s lost her hair, even over her hump.

 

The vet came to see Poor Mona one day

And this is what she had to say:

 

“Mona needs to lose weight

No more snacks can she eat.

It’s putting much too much stress

On all her four feet!”

 

“She needs healthy food,

And a little medicine

To help her hair

Start growing back in!”

 

Come say hello, but please do refrain!

Mona needs to follow the vet’s regimen.

 

Watch out for traffic when you stop over too

And please not too late, Mona has a curfew!

 

And after your visit, if you feel so inclined

Stop by San Juan Vineyards for a nice glass of wine!

 

 

It’s a Boy! Love, Cow and Pig

I get all sorts of creative and imaginative inspiration from Cow and Pig…or maybe it’s Pig and Cow.  So here’s another poem for your to enjoy now!

It’s a Boy!  Love, Cow and Pig

Cow and Pig they danced a jig,

And moo’d & oinked with joy,

For after all these years of waiting,

They’d been blessed with a baby boy!

Inside the egg he’d grown so big

Until one sunny day,

A little speck of light came through

The corner he’d pecked away.

All day long he’d worked to free

Himself from that shellac,

That when he finally made it free

He gave a loud “quack quack!”

He fluffed his yellow downy feathers,

And looked up overhead

At his parents who watched over him

Nestled in his bed.

Cow and Pig announced to all

So happy with their luck,

They wanted everyone to see

Their little baby duck.

The Wiley Fox and the Folk Song

I came across this photo today.  Took it over the summer from my front porch.  My daughter laughingly reminded me of a poem she remembered reading long ago about a fox.  She said the poem had lyrics that went something like “they chewed on the bones-o!” I remembered then…a sing-song that certainly appealed to the imagination of a yong child.   A quick Google search found just the one.  It’s an old folk song that was in one of her homeschool poetry books.  There were several versions out there so you can find one that you enjoy and sing it along with your child….or NOT 🙂

 

           Little fox went out on a chilly night.

 

        He prayed to the night to give him light.

 

        He had many a mile to go that night

 

        Before he reached the town oh,

 

        Town oh, town oh.

 

        He had many a mile to go that night

 

        Before he reached the town oh.

 

 

 

        He ran and he ran till he came to a pen.

 

        The ducks and geese were kept therein.

 

        He said, “A couple of you are gonna grease my chin

 

        Before I leave this town oh,

 

        Town oh, town oh.

 

        A couple of you are gonna grease my chin

 

        Before I leave this town oh.”

 


 

        He grabbed the grey goose by the neck

 

        And flung a duck across his back.

 

        He didn’t mind the “Quack! Quack! Quack!”

 

        And the legs all dangling down oh,

 

        Down oh, down oh.

 

        He didn’t mind the “Quack! Quack! Quack!”

 

        And the legs all dangling down oh.

 

 

 

        Old Mother Flipper Flopper jumped out of bed.

 

        Up to the window she cocked her head.

 

        She cried, “John! Oh John! The grey goose is gone

 

        And the fox is on the town oh,

 

        Town oh, town oh.

 

        “John! Oh John! The grey goose is gone

 

        And the fox is on the town oh.”

 

 

 

        John, he ran to the top of the hill

 

        And blew his horn loud and shrill.

 

        The fox, he said, “I’d better flee with my kill,

 

        Or they’ll soon be on my trail oh,

 

        Trail oh, trail oh.

 

        The fox, he said, “I’d better flee with my kill,

 

        Or they’ll soon be on my trail oh.”

 

 

 

        He ran till he came to his cozy den.

 

        There were the little ones: eight, nine, ten.

 

        They said, “Daddy you’d better go back again

 

        It must be a mighty fine town oh,

 

        Town oh, town oh.

 

        Daddy you’d better go back again

 

        It must be a mighty fine town oh.”

 

 

 

        Little fox and his wife, without any strife,

 

        Cut up the goose with a carving knife.

 

        They never had such a supper in their life

 

        And the little ones chewed on the bones oh,

 

        Bones oh, bones oh.

 

        They never had such a supper in their life

 

        And the little ones chewed on the bones oh.

 

 

 

What do you think happened the next night?

 

 

 

Guitar:  C  C  C  G  C   F  C-G7  C  G  C  F  C  G  C

 

   

 

Old versions of the song:

 

Fox Went Out

A hungry fox jumped up in fright
And he begged for the moon to give him light,
For he had many miles to trot that night,
Before he reached his Den-o.
Den-o, Den-o, for he had many miles to trot that night
Before he reached his Den-o.

So he cocked up his head and out went his tail
And off he went on the long, long trail
Which he done many times in calm and gale
But he always got back to his Den-o.
Den-o, Den-o, (repeat last two lines).

And soon he came to the old farm yard
Where the ducks and geese to him were barred
But he always got one by working hard
To take back to his Den-o.
Den-o, Den-o, (repeat last two lines).

He grabbed the grey goose by the neck
And slung her right across his back
And the old grey goose went quack, quack, quack
But the fox was off to his Den-o.
Den-o, Den-o, (repeat last two lines).

Ol’ Mother Slipper Slopper jumped out of bed
And out of the window she poked her head,
Oh, John, John, the grey goose has gone
And the fox is off to his Den-o.
Den-o, Den-o, (repeat last two lines).

John went up to the top of the hill
And he blew a trumpet loud and shrill
Said the fox, that’s very pretty music, still
I’d rather be in my Den-o.
Den-o, Den-o, (repeat last two lines).

At last he got back to his den
To his dear little foxes eight, none, ten
And they’ve had many fat geese since then
And sometimes a good fat hen-o
Hen-o, Hen-o, (repeat last two lines).

from the Copper Family

 

 

The Fox (2)

The old fox stepped out one moonshining night
Stood upon his hind feet just about right I’ll have
some meat for my supper this night
Before I leave this townee (townee, townee)
I’ll have some meat for my supper this night
Before I leave this townee

He went on down to the blacksmith’s gate,
There he saw an old black drake
Come on along old drake and go along with me
You’re the finest old fellow in this townee
(REPEAT AS PER FIRST VERSE)

The old drake sat still and the word cried NO
Just sat still ’cause he didn’t want to go
If you eat no meat ’til you eat meat of mine

You’ll eat no meat in the townee (REPEAT)

He went on down by the farmer’s gate
These he swa an old grey goose
Come along old goose and go with me
You’re the finest old fellow in the townee (REPEAT)

The old goose sat still and the word cried NO
Just sat still ’cause he didn’t want to go
If you eat no meat ’til you eat meat of mine
You’ll eat no meat in the townee (REPEAT)

He went on home to his den
Out come the young ones 8-9-10
O father, O father when you again
You’ve had no luck in this townee (REPEAT)

He went on back on his back track
He took the old grey goose by the neck
Her wing went flip-flop over his back
Her feet went dingle dangle down-ee (REPEAT)

Old mother tipped up in the bed
Out of the window she poked her head
Old man, old man the grey goose is gone
I thought I heard her go quack, quack-eo (REPEAT)

The old man jumped up in his shirtail
And with toe dogs on the trail
They caught the fox at the end of the trail
And that was the end of the fox-e-o (REPEAT)

 

‘Twas the night…

‘TWAS THE NIGHT…”

‘Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the dark,

 

THAT ranger was stalking around in the park.

Tearing down forts the kids built that day…

 

On the beach, out of driftwood, when they were at play.

The foxes and rabbits were hiding with fear,

 

Afraid they’d not make it to see the New Year.

Grownups were home lamenting the fact,

 

That the tickets he gave out were beginning to stack…

Up so high, in a pile they could never be paid,

 

And they wished all along that at home they had stayed,

Instead of taking the dog for a run,

 

On the beach, sans the leash, so he could have fun.

But Santa was watching it all from afar,

 

And sent out his elves to sneak “Ranger’s” car.

They locked it inside the bathroom that night,

 

And in exchange they left this note in plain sight.

It said:  Be nice to the islanders’ or you will get coal in your stocking this year!

 ***Text and drawings copyright 2011 by Cynthia Brast.  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

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