Pesky Squirrel

As you have no doubt guessed, we love birds.  Love to feed them, love to hear them, love to watch them, love to have them take bird baths...love, love, love. We've been really lucky here in our "new" yard with having birds visit our bird feeder.  We have a plethora of birdies that come to our feeders. --Or at least we did. Lately, though, we are having trouble keeping the feeders full.  We thought, "Yep, those birdies like the food!"

Turns out it's not the birdies that have eaten all of the food. It is a pesky squirrel.  Or rather several pesky squirrels.  The ring leader is Pesky himself. Once on the feeder he simply sits and eats for hours.  --Maybe not hours, but certainly longer than necessary to fill his little belly.  After seeing Pesky for the first time, over the next few days we started to count the little furry fellas.  There were two then three.  Before we knew it there were five!

So, off to the Wild Birds Unlimited store we go. To purchase a baffle. Once home we add the baffle to the bird stand thinking "Okay...that'll teach ya!" Less than an hour later...dang squirrel on the feeder.   

This squirrel is brash, I tell ya, brash! He's on the feeder almost every morning now.  When I knock on the window to scare him he barely wiggles his ears. When we open the bedroom window to yell at him we actually hear him giggle! When we go to the back door to walk the dog we stick our head out and yell "Get off there squirrel!"  --No reaction. Nothing. Hubby walks down the back door steps, still nothing. Hubby has to get halfway to the feeder before the squirrel takes him seriously. Hubby moves toward Pesky making cowboy "YAH!" sounds before the squirrel to leaves the premises.

(Sidebar: I love me a cowboy.) 

So when I saw the squirrel on the feeder the absolute same afternoon that we installed the squirrel BAFFLE...I couldn't believe it. How rude! I mean, let us think we've stumped you for at least a full afternoon. I was on the back porch when I saw Pesky on the feeder. I was actually sweeping the porch when I saw him. I may have looked a little crazy when I came outside. First I opened the door and yelled, "Don't make me come out there!" Nothing. Then I yelled, "Don't make me come down these steps!" Still nothing. So I came out, broom waiving in the air screaming, “I mean it! I mean it!"

So we moved the bird feeder.  Or, hubby moved it. 

Next morning...Pesky is eating from the now moved birdfeeder. The feeder that has a baffle and has been moved. We are starting to feel crazy. Crazy like Carl Spackler, the greenskeeper in Caddyshack. Spackler who is tasked with getting rid of the gophers that are tearing up the golf course. Spackler will tell you that this is no easy task.

Carl Spackler:  You must know your enemy, and in this case, my enemy is a varmint. And a varmint will never quit - ever.

So, Hubby, knowing his enemy is a varmint that will never quit...sits in wait to see how Pesky is still getting on the feeder. I'm at work about mid-morning when I get the following text: "Caught in the act-squirrel jumped from lawn chair to bird feeder! The chair has been moved. Squirrel now sitting in a tree and contemplating next move."

I couldn't be prouder.

Urban Chicken Keeping

Raleigh's Urban Chicken Coop Tour, took place this past Saturday.  That's right...a CHICKEN TOUR.   It turns out that the Tour D'Coop is an annual event. My Mamacita loves chickens. Both she and my Dad had chickens when they were growing up in Rural Town. When I was at their house yesterday, both Madrecita and Dad had stories of holding their "pet" chickens in their laps when they were young.  Dad's chicken was a Rhode Island Red.  I can't remember what Madre's chicken was.  Since returning to NC, I've been more aware of the whole chicken keeping idea. As an aside, a dear friend of mine that lives only about 20 minutes outside of Seattle keeps chickens.  She has little goats too. Her chickens are allowed to roam the grounds until bedtime when they are put into their roost for safety. Before knowing my friend, I was only aware of chickens being part of livestock on a farm. It was neat to see that chickens are not just for people with large tracts of land and barns and the whole early to bed early to rise lifestyle.

Buff Orpington

In December of last year, Hubby and I were driving around some of the "Old" neighborhoods of our town. The houses are early 20th Century with an eclectic flair. The streets are narrow and many of the homes do not have garages or driveways, so street parking is prevalent. As we slowly navigated the cars and individuals puttering near the road in their yards, I saw an adorable house on a corner lot with three chickens in the front yard.  The FRONT Yard! The homeowner was in the yard working on yard landscaping type activities.  Of course, I had to stop and talk. The gentleman was initially guarded when I got out of the car to walk up to him. I suppose when he heard my squeal "Chickens!  You have chickens!", he realized I wasn't there to annoy with either Girl Scout cookies, Magazine Sales or Religious Pamphlets. I asked if I could take photos of the hens and if I could ask him some questions. He was quite gracious. City ordinance allows up to 3 hens to be kept inside city limits. These hens are Buff Orpingtons and his wife named them each something to honor their color. I was completely fascinated.

A neighbor down the street also has chickens. --He is someone I don't actually know, but I see the chicken coop in the front side yard. Mi Madre wants to keep chickens but my Dad is completely against the idea. I think for him, the thought of predators is something that would be too sad to bear. There are certainly predators around.  Last summer I saw several foxes running between the houses in my very suburban neighborhood.  And of course, there are hawks that are a concern. Dad says that the neighbor lost some chickens to foxes.  I have a friend that actually has a "real farm" and he has chickens.  He told me this Spring foxes devastated his hen house.

Hen located at Coop #16

Saturday, as I was reading the local Independent paper, I came across the one day only tour in the big city of Raleigh. The tour is billed as a garden tour as well as a "coop" tour that seeks to educate visitors about keeping hens and showcase garden ideas and inspiration. There is a wide variety of coop styles as well as surrounding gardens. This tour was one I couldn't resist. I picked up Mamacita so that we could both enjoy the event.

First of all, let me tell you, the tour was not overbilled. The homes are truly in established urban neighborhoods. As we drove through the neighborhoods with homes that are so beautiful they remind me of HGTV. Though the neighborhoods are defined as urban, they each had pretty substantial sized lots. Urban here doesn't mean highrises and bus stops. I think it really means very established older neighborhoods that are truly residential and not a hint of ruralness.

As we drove through the neighborhoods, there was absolutely no evidence of chicken keeping. But, as we were allowed to enter the back yard oasis, our eyes were treated to fun and artful chicken coop design. Evidently, there is not a clear maximum number of hens that can be kept inside Raleigh's city limits. Several of the chicken keepers had upwards of 20 hens. The hens were fun to watch scratching their grounds and hearing their quiet little clucks. It was clear that the owners enjoyed every aspect of chicken keeping. Not just the chickens and egg production, but designing and adapting their structures for aesthetics as well as utility. 

I'm Home...Part III

My Kitchen

Moving "back home" was not something I expected to do necessarily.  Though, I expected that we would "move back" to NC after our Seattle, WA adventure.  When we decided to go to Seattle, I thought:  "We'll go...we'll have fun and then we'll come back. And, bonus: we'll have the reverse of the housing market sticker shock when we return."

When we moved to Seattle, we settled on the "Eastside". Which is to say the east side of Lake Washington and not actually Seattle at all.  But Seattle was just a quick ride across the bridge.  There was tremendous sticker shock, but somehow we bought a house that was a wonderful place to call home. I loved so many things about our time in WA, but that is a topic for another day. 

I've always thought that home is where the terrain is.  That the terrain you grow up with is what feels like home. I grew up with green rolling hills and dogwood trees.  When we lived in Va. Beach, the terrain was very flat (like at a beach...).  There were limited trees and absolutely no hills.  I never got used to that.  After our baby was born a homing time bomb went off. "Must return to the homeland" is what my heart told me. I attribute it to wanting to see and live in the familiar while I navigated the world of the unfamiliar (motherhood). We did not move to my "home town" but moved to the same state and my eyes could rest on hills and flowering trees and my restless heart was immediately calmed.

As I've said, I'm from the South.  Our accents are sweet like our tea.  Heaven is a rocking chair on the front porch or on a screened-in back porch.  Hubby and I had recently built the most spectacular screened in back porch when we got the chance to move to WA.  The porch was almost a reason for me to say "No Thanks", plan on sittin' on this porch forever.  But, then we thought:  Why not?  We loved our house. But it was still just a house.  Why not go see this place they call Seattle?  You know, the place where Bobby Sherman and his brothers claimed the bluest skies you ever saw are.  We went and I was in love.  Not once did my homing pigeon heartache for my childhood terrain.

I made amazingly fun friends there and loved the beauty of God's Country every single day. But...my friends and family from "back home" were so far away.  That is what my heart began to ache for. A three hour time difference makes a big difference when you want to make a quick call to Sissy and tell her about the great shoes you just saw but didn't buy.  And when you need her to tell you to go back and get those shoes because you deserve them! When it's 7 p.m. my time and 10 p.m. her time, we just weren't in the same frame of mind.  Plus, there are all the moments of just being able to drop by Dad's house for a sec after work. Or meeting Sis at the Mongolian Grill restaurant after work. These were the moments I was missing.  These were moments my daughter never had. We had always lived about a 3-hour drive to Grandma and Grandpa's when we were on the East Coast so, we never got to just drop by. 

When Hubby and I began to plan our return to my home town it felt so right that it felt unreal. It felt very much like when we moved to Seattle.  That feeling of "Are we really doing this?  Can we really do this?" butterflies of excitement feeling.  Moving home felt the same:  "Are we really doing this? Can we do this?"  Answer:  Yes!

I'm Home

The Terrace of our Bellevue Highrise

Let me begin by saying, "I'm home". And let me add, I never knew it would feel this much like home. This house, this town, this everything has turned into a fun adventure and I want to drink it up and continue exploring.

My "home" story: I grew up in the same town that my parents grew up in. In the same town that their parents either grew up in or lived in for virtually forever. I went to the same elementary school that both my Mom and Dad went to.  When they were there, it was 1-12 and they both graduated from this same school. I walked the same school halls from 5th to 7th grade.

My parents had an adventurous side to them, and they did not stay in their home town long after graduation. Dad joined the Air Force and went off to see the world...or at least the country...the Air Force bases, anyway.

Mom moved to the big city (the capital) and went to business school.  At some point, she drove to Ohio to finally marry this young man who enchanted her for so long. They lived in Massachusetts (where I was born, along with my sister). We lived in Colorado for a time (when we were toddlers) and then we moved to Florida.  --As I was young, I don't actually know if I have the order of these moves correct.  (But, for today, we will say that I am completely correct). Anyway, you may have guessed, we are from the South. I do not know how my parents felt about their time in Massachusetts or Colorado.  I have vague memories of my own of Florida.  Before the move to Florida, Mom (and my sister and me) stayed in their home town while Dad went to Florida to find a house and get settled.  The family made that move in two parts (Dad, then Mom, and kids) because Mom was too pregnant to make the move immediately.  She stayed near her mother to await the birth of our baby sister before bringing us all to join Dad. 

We lived in Florida until the summer before I was to start kindergarten.  This is when my parents brought their family "home". And here we stayed. We moved to our "first house" in town and five years later moved to the "new house". That was the house that Mom and Dad built.  Dad was the general contractor and together they made the house happen.  The first house had a path through the woods from my Mother's parents.  The "new house" had a path through the field to my Dad's parents. The growing up years involved lots of time with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. It was a rich time with fun memories.

The new house was so modern and very '70s. My parents carpeted every room in the house. The kitchen carpet was a low/no pile carpet that was able to deflect stains from spilled food. (That was something!) Each of us kids had our very own bedroom and we were able to choose our own color scheme including carpet. This house was the stuff!

The House my Parents Built

That house was "home" until I got married (right after college). --I went "away" to college (1 hour away...but that was away). I went home on holidays and breaks as well as some weekends (when I was so homesick I couldn't stay away).

Anyway...after going away to college, I met my husband and never went home again. Actually, going home meant visiting Dad and my sisters. It was never to be where I unpacked my suitcase again.

This story is continued in I'm Home Part II.