MONDAY MUSINGS—A MYSTERY IN RED

First he tried to break in through my living room bay window. It was totally unexpected.

Click, click, ka-thunk.

I jumped; my book did a loop-de-loop with a bad landing on my armchair table, barely missing my coffee. All I caught was a flash of red and he was gone. Once I caught my breath a flicker of movement across the room showed two of my cats in hunt mode slinking, belly down, across the room.

Click, click, ka-thunk.

Casey on my desk and my Dragon 

My cup of coffee did not survive the second attack on the window or the twenty-pound cat leaping up and over. She’s a Maine Coon cat (on her mama’s side) and huge. Despite her size she’s incredibly fast.

As I mopped up the coffee I watched with bemusement as a flash of red flew first at one side then the other of the window then moved to the porch railing and back to the window for another run. Hover and attack. Repeat again and again.

I couldn't make out what he was other than bright red. But I became accustomed to his fascination with my window and dive-bombing the lower areas where two of my cats settled on the wide window seat for a front row view.

Then he tried to break in through my kitchen garden window while I was doing dishes and about scared the life out of me. The saucer didn't make it.

Then he fell in love with my car. Granted, he has good taste but my car window had...gunk on it. Then my car developed multiple paw prints because, of course, the pride of cats had to investigate. I moved the car from near the oak tree where his nest was located. Three hundred feet away seems to be the magic number.

All the while I’m trying to figure out what he was. It was a mystery. Not a Cardinal, which has more sense than to attack my windows and his song, is prettier. He sits up on the oak branches (or on the front porch railing) and sings his heart out. Beautiful repertoire. Definitely not a Cardinal. I have a Mockingbird family in another oak out front. Two different males almost drown out the other birds like my Golden Finches, Grosbeaks, and Orioles. I have a lot of Robins who sing, Bluebirds, and a couple of pairs of Indigo Buntings, but they’re usually in the back yard area. A truly marvelous symphony happens in my yard everyday. J

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I finally identified him. He’s a Summer Tanager. His mate is sort of a golden color with some reddish tones, but I only see her once in a while. Summer Tanagers were once classified as songbirds and now are classified as part of the Cardinal family. I've seen Tanagers before, at a distance, and thought they were Cardinal without the black markings or the crest. I thought they might be an immature male Cardinal? Didn't think much of it until I got a close look at this one as he assaulted my windows.

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My area is a prime breeding area for the Tanager. While they’re raising babies they consume a lot of bees, wasps (they knock the stinger off against the tree and then carry it to the nest) and fruit, like Poke berries and blackberries. This guy does not like any squirrels in his tree. I've watched him chase them off. He also doesn't like Blue Jays, which is understandable, considering Jays will attack the young of other birds. I do have a pair of Jays that customarily raise their young on the far eastern boundary of my yard. They mostly stay away from each other but do clash now and then.

So, the mystery red bird has been identified and although I’m not thrilled with his window attacks—which are becoming less frequent or I’m becoming inured.  I am happy he’s taken out two good-sized wasp nests near the front bay window and the one near the front porch. Saves my husband from spraying them, as he’s had to do the last few years. He is fine looking bird and makes beautiful music.

I’m going to miss him when he leaves for Mexico. I hope he returns next spring.

Here's his song.

MONDAY MUSINGS—Where Time Stands Still

The other night I was on my way to pick up my son from and evening class in town. As I was traveling down our paved two lane country road leading to town (7 miles away) I saw a strange sight up ahead on the side of the road. We’re smack dab in the country so there is no street lights at all, although you’ll find a few houses with lights on their electric poles. When it’s dark, it’s really dark.

I only caught glimpses of the red blinkers as I topped the rises in road and it was about a mile away when I first noticed them. I couldn't really be sure what it was—maybe a one of the farmers in the area out checking on the cattle and parked on the side of the road. As drew closer I saw it was a couple buggies of my Amish neighbors on their way home (I believe these two groups are part of a construction crew). I don’t often see the buggies at night. I had no idea they had flashing red lights on both front and back—not really bright ones, but blinkers never the less. They also had some sort of battery styled lanterns to light the road. Naturally, I slowed down to about 10 mph and turned my on my low beams. I’m sure the horses weren’t thrilled to have headlights hitting their eyes. They were tossing their heads and I could see the lead man holding them in pretty tight. I certainly didn’t want to spook them. That would be disastrous.  

There was that moment of feeling like I drove through a time portal (cue the theme from the Twilight Zone).

Horse and buggies isn’t an every day sight in most areas, unless you live in the country and have Amish communities nearby.

Did you know that Missouri has North America’s 7th-largest Amish population, with roughly 10,000 Amish? I didn't.

Missouri has attracted many Amish settlements in recent years.  We’ve added roughly two-dozen new settlements over the past two decades, averaging more than one new settlement per year.

We have a large community of Amish in Seymour, Webster County. Seymour is about 70 miles (114 km) from where I live. Any time I would go to Springfield, Missouri we’d pass through the area which has various shops the Amish sell their goods in—from foods, to quilts and of course furniture. You’ll find many a buggy or farm wagon trotting along the (deliberately designed) wide shoulders of US 60/63. Good thing the shoulders are wide considering that the traffic zips along the four-lane highway at speeds of 70-ish on most days. I admire their horses. They’re beautiful, strong and definitely road savvy—I’d be nervous walking on the shoulders of that highway.

Missouri is also home to a high percentage of small Amish communities. Closer to home, we have a small settlement in Raymondville (about thirty minutes away), established in 1985. You’ll see handmade signs advertising livestock, harness and tack makers, foods, and services offered by the Amish. There are several Amish construction crews that work in our area.

This is before the mill was completely renovated and a new
hitching post put in. 

Recently, we had several Amish families move into our immediate neighborhood and about four miles down our gravel country road. The original couple (and I believe they’re Swiss Amish) moved there about three years ago. There are now several families living there and I’m sure there will be others. I see them at our grocery store in town and know a few of the women enough to say hi. It’s not at all an unusual sight to see several horse and buggies at the hitching post at the old mill on the property next to the parking lot of the grocery store. You can almost imagine what it must have been like a hundred years ago.

My Danes set up a bit of a ruckus when one of the buggies or farm wagons passes by our house with large wheels crunching gravel—and horses of course. They pass by the house at least three or four times a week and the Danes are growing accustomed to them. But to my Danes minds, the horses belong in the pasture behind them and not on the road. If I’m out in the yard we’ll exchange waves. I’ve gotten to know some of the families—at least by sight and vise versa.

I’ve mentioned, more than once, that I live beyond the back forty—I’m not kidding when I say that. We’re far enough in the country that you don’t hear the traffic from Route 63—a main artery cutting through this part of the Ozarks—except on a cold winter night you can faintly hear the jack brakes on some of the semi-trucks. If you listen closely.

Time seems to slow down out here.

Today, with the autumn sun drenching the landscape and the wind blowing through the gold and red leaves of the trees. Birds flittering in the brush and the high-pitched call of the hawks hunting prey—it somehow seemed fitting to see a horse and buggy drive by.As they passed we exchanged a smile and wave set to the music of horses clip-clopping down the gravel road.