this week in bird-watching

In the world of the super unusual, we have three gigantic Cooper’s hawks that have settled into the backyard and called it their new stomping ground.

John thinks they’ve nested just over the fence in the dense woods, and we just can’t see where. They sit along our back fence, looking for rabbits, I suppose.

The other day, one of the hawks caught a rabbit just as I let Otis outside.

It was like a Keystone Cops comedy — the hawk swooped; the rabbit shrieked; Otis pounced; the rabbit escaped. And the hawk was pissed off all day.

It made me think of this:

 

 

who’s your daddy, Otis?

fifteen

This is Otis. He’s a funny dog — likes to have his picture taken. Seriously.

He poses.

Anyway, we’ve always thought he was a mutt with a lot of lab mixed in there, but he has such a charming demeanor and personality that we decided to have that DNA test done to discover what kinds of breeds contribute to his sweet gentle nature.

The results are back, and here’s the scoop:

Lab mix with American Stafford Terrier mix
also in his parentage: Kerry Blue, Border Terrier, Dogue de Bordeaux, Pharaoh and American Eskimo Dog
I think he’s just a Ham.
.

the Great Twitter Wars Part 2

I was already indignant with the mockingbirds eating all my blueberries.

This morning I woke up to another indignity. I caught a great big ole fat squirrel on my feeder (not John’s lesser, rejected one) and that little sonovagun was eating the birdseed right out of the top of the feeder.

How in the world did he get that open?

Let me tell you he was going to town in there, too. I did a double take when I first saw it because I wasn’t sure it was, in fact, a squirrel. Oh, yes it was, and that little chunky monkey was getting fatter on my nickel. Um, birdseed.

The cardinals were a little put out by it, too, because they were dive-bombing the feeder like a bunch of World War II aces.

It was rather entertaining right up until I’d remember I was insulted by the squirrel, then I’d be all mad again and everything.

Of course, I wasn’t so mad that I didn’t see the hilarity of it, so I grabbed the camera so I could share it.

Because I love you like that, dear reader.

three strikes…yer out!

Fantastic.

I’ve managed to set off the alarm THREE TIMES THIS WEEK. It’s only Thursday.

Besides feeling put out and totally stupid, I’ve now become that guy at the alarm company. I called to report the false alarm, and the agent laughed, laughed, and asked if I was walking the dog again.

Well, it’s nice to know that I bring some joy to other people’s day.

Meanwhile, I now know who to really blame…