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Journal of a Sabbatical |
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May 23, 2001 |
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cats and catbirds |
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Today's
Bird Sightings: Today's Reading: Grave Undertakings by Patricia E. Rubertone Today's Starting Pitcher: David Cone Plum Island Bird List for 2001 Plum Island Life List |
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A dozen cats have come down with an upper respiratory infection, making for sneezing and misery. There are not enough volunteers today. Bob is out learning how to drive buses, Louise is off visiting family, etc., etc., etc. It's just me and Roy waiting at the sink for the dishes as a young girl we haven't met before cleans cages. And it's not even summer yet!
There's no naval discussion today but
there's plenty of boat talk. Roy sold his boat last year but
still officiates races at the yacht club (which he Cut to Angelina's where I'm chowing down on a veggie sub as if I haven't eaten in a month and watching CNN Headline News alternate between Senator Jeffords not saying anything and the Dalai Lama in Our Nation's Capital irritating the Chinese. The guys discussing the finer points of boat engines between mouthfuls of pizza have left and I'm the only customer in the dining room. A father and daughter come in and order a pepperoni pizza in extraordinarily loud voices. The kid is about 7 or 8 years old. She walks up to me and asks if my veggie sub is good. The dad picks up the remote for the TV and asks if I mind if he changes the channel. I ask "What, not into CNN?" to which he replies he wants to keep her (the kid) occupied. Only thing is he can' figure out how to work the remote so the TV stays on CNN after all. The kid stares at me instead of the TV, totally absorbed in watching me eat. Cut to 20 minutes later. I've eaten my sub and gone to the restroom. The restaurant is full of customers again. I walk out of the restroom headed for the door. The kid with the loud father jumps up and yells good-bye to me, waving as if I'm a favorite relative. Diners interrupt their pizza consumption to watch me leave as if I'm a character in some drama they all know about and I don't. The Dalai Lama walks up to the White House microphones for the gazillionth time on CNN...
Catbirds are all over the place today, chasing each other vigorously. The funniest thing I saw all day (besides the Dalai Lama making the Chinese squirm) was two catbirds running at each other on a fence rail. Neither took off . They ran full tilt into each other and butted heads. Then one changed direction and the other chased after it. All while still on the fence rail. They ran along the fence one way then the other for about 10 minutes. All the while another catbird did a passable imitation of a yellow warbler from deep in a bayberry bush and a confused yellow warbler answered from the top of the outhouse in the parking lot. From cats to catbirds the entertainment never stops. |
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Copyright © 2001, Janet I. Egan |
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Savannah
is firmly in control of the big yellow bucket. She's
friendly, cute, lovey, and totally harmless today. When Roy
started petting her she rolled over and showed him her
belly. This is unprecedented. She even let me pet her
without so much as a peep. Meanwhile, Sandy who has been the
soul of affection lately has reverted to swiping at everyone
who walks by. He lunged at my arm and tried to bite me. He
finally went into the laundry room and parked himself on top
of the dryer - the one not occupied by Miss Newburyport.
Does this have
anything to do with losing out on the big yellow
bucket?
There
used to be days like this back when I first started here.
Days when Dawna was the only staff person and I was the only
Wednesday morning volunteer. Days when I would start at 9:15
and get done with cage cleaning, dishes, and some of the
laundry at 2:00 or 2:30 in the afternoon. Days when I was
convinced that I should just pack three or four meals and a
sleeping bag and maybe a book or two and just stay until the
laundry was done. Whew! I get tired just thinking about
it.
claims is far too grand a name). I don't think they race
land attack destroyers there though. The Merrimack's a
little shallow for that.
Cut
to Fowle's Coffee Shop. A major crisis is brewing over a cup
of tea, which was either supposed to be or not supposed to
be mango. The discussion is so complex I can't follow it.
People sitting at the counter drinking coffee are chiming in
asking questions. Finally the guy who wears the Gumby for
President button suggests that the kid wait on me while he
brews some more tea. I get my large dark roast to go and
leave as more customers join the tea crisis.
Leaving
the strangeness of restaurants and coffee shops behind, I
decide to drink my coffee at the North Pool overlook on the
refuge. I've been wondering when the bobolinks would be
back. Not seeing any has been bothering me. Scanning the
granite marker field (so-called because there's a granite
post in the middle of it, which I've once seen a flicker
pecking on but mostly kingbirds perch on the top of it) I
spotted three bobolinks right away. I'm sipping my coffee
and watching the bobolinks and kingbirds when another car
pulls in. A man and a woman scan the granite marker field
with binoculars. The woman announces each bobolink in a
voice to rival the guy at Angelina's. Then she gives a play
by play of a family of Canada geese walking through the
grass to the water. Howard Cosell couldn't have done a
better job. Are people louder today or has my hearing
suddenly got way way more acute?