by James Brush
Author: James Brush
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
Last weekend, we visited Wild Birds Unlimited to see about getting a better home for the guy out front. We got a hanging birdhouse, but on the way out we noticed some pictures of owls looking out of boxes.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “You can get owl houses?!?”
The store manager nodded and pointed to the owl nest boxes above the counter. I learned that the eastern screech owl lives in these parts, and that they eat mostly bugs, spiders and small mice. My wife and I looked at the picture and quickly decided that a home isn’t a home without some owls.
Getting it mounted in the tree was a bit of a challenge requiring a ladder and some contortions, but it’s there now. Hopefully some homeless owl will stumble on it. If not, I’m sure the squirrels will enjoy it.
While searching for screech owl info, I came upon Chris’ Eastern Screech Owl Nest Box Cam, a site dedicated to the goings on in a nest box here in Austin that’s been tricked out with cameras and other gadgetry.
Mine’s just a box, so hopefully a few Austin owls won’t mind living in something so archaic.
Incidentally, the title of this post refers to Owl’s house in The House at Pooh Corner. Owl, you’ll remember, spells his name W-O-L, but has a great deal of trouble with more difficult words like measles and buttered toast.
Phoebe discovered her new favorite treat last week: fresh icicles.
I broke one off to see what she would do, and she carried it off a few feet and then bit it into a rain of shards. Then the real fun started, namely trying to pick the pieces up again. She kept working at it until she figured out how to do it at which point she ate all of them.
I broke another off for her and she ate that too. It wasn’t long before the porch was littered with icicles and Phoebe was shivering from the cold as she ate them. Eventually, I got her inside where she warmed up and then wanted to go back out to eat some more.
Icicles, the ultimate dog treat. They’re free, non fattening, provide a challenge, aren’t a choking hazard. Your pup will love ’em.
(This edition of Weekend Hound Blogging sponsored by the American Icicle Association.)
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Want to make a fast friend by saving a greyhound in Central Texas? Check these pups out. Or go here to find a greyhound near you. You can also go here to find out why greyhounds are running for their lives.
If you have dogs who need proven leadership, go here to find a cat.
This was taken sometime in the early ’90s at the quarry on McNeil Road in Round Rock. I spent a lot of time out there when I was at UT taking photo classes. Some of my favorite images came from those excursions.
I took this one on the same day.
Today we start off with The Mermen whose song titles are generally some of the best ever. Jim Thomas’ guitar playing is pretty awesome as well. We discovered them on the trip that was the subject of last week’s Old Photo Friday because the guy we stayed with in Albuquerque had hosted them just a few days earlier. He talked them up so big I had to buy A Glorious Lethal Euphoria, which stayed in my CD player for quite a while.
I once saw their sound described as Sonic Youth meets Hendrix in a psychedelic surf band. We finally caught them at the long gone Electric Lounge in Austin where I bought the CD that gives us the first track, which at twelve minutes is the most shreddin’ surf jam I’ve ever heard. It even segues into “Paint It Black” for a few incredible minutes.
Here’s the ten…
- “The Whales Are Coming and Boy Are They Pissed” – The Mermen – Live at the Haunted House
- “Here” – Pavement – Slanted & Enchanted
- “Missing” – Everything But The Girl – Amplified Heart
- “Cum On Feel the Noize” – Bran Van 3000 – Glee
- “Relative Ways” – …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead – Source Tags & Codes
- “Babylon” – David Gray – White Ladder
- “Plateau” – Nirvana – MTV Unplugged in New York
- “The Boy in the Bubble” – Paul Simon – Graceland
- “Night Train” – Bruce Cockburn – Anything Anytime Anywhere – Singles 1979-2001
- “Leif Erikson” – Interpol – Turn on the Bright Lights
The rest of the set is pretty pop. Bran Van’s Quiet Riot cover is wonderfully subversive and still every bit the party song it was meant to be. “Boy in the Bubble” reminds me how great Graceland is and why it’s still in my top albums of the ’80s list.
Guest blogging at In the Pink Texas again: Two Bills That Will Save Public Education
I was off Monday for Dr King and then on Tuesday and Wednesday for Dr Freeze, so this is kind of a Monday.
Sort of.
It’s also Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, but because of that Mondayesque quality, and because this is a blog, I’m pretending it’s Monday and rounding up movies.
Battlestar Galactica (Michael Rymer, 2003)
Holy Frack! How did I miss that Battlestar Galactica had returned, been reinvented and spun off into a new killer series? The “miniseries,” which plays on DVD like a three hour movie had me hooked.
Much has changed. Starbuck is a woman, but still plays cards and chomps cigars. Baltar is, well not exactly evil, but certainly self-centered and instead of sitting on that throne (what did he do up there all day?) he’s totally in lust with a sexy Cylon who looks just like a human.
The new twist on the Cylons was my favorite part. I love that just before destroying the twelve colonies of man, the Cylons created artificial humans. Creepy as the old robots with the buzzing red eye were (and are) this is scarier in a more existential way.
The miniseries sets up the basic plot from the 1978-79 TV series about the Galactica leading a ragtag fleet in search of the legendary thirteenth colony: Earth. Cmdr. Adama’s revelations about Earth at the end of the show carry a great twist and are wonderfully handled, altogether indicating that this is a show for these times. I can’t wait for Netflix to deliver season one.
The Night Listener (Patrick Stettner, 2006)
Billed as a thriller, The Night Listener sets the viewer up for something, well, thrilling. What we get, though, is a very interesting film about hope and the lengths we will go to know that we matter to someone.
Robin Williams’ performance as an aging radio raconteur is compelling, and I found myself hoping that he would find what he sought, the one listener who understood him. Someone to whom he mattered.
In short, a beautiful film.
A few weeks ago, every time I went out the front door after dark, I heard a flutter of wings and could just catch the silhouette of a winged form as it disappeared into the trees.
The first few times, I thought it was a bat, but then I finally got a look at it, and instead of just seeing motion flitting into the night, I was able to recognize the motion as the flapping of bird wings. On another night, instead of charging out the front door, I peered at it through the blinds and saw a small sparrow house finch huddled against the porch light.
It’s gotten to where I glance out the window at him each night as if to say good night to this creature who has decided to make himself at home here. When I heard that it was going to get cold, I made sure there was seed in the feeder, which I hadn’t done in weeks, and each of these icy mornings, I’ve found myself relieved to see that he’s still there when I go out to get the paper.
There’s no nest construction going on, and it seems an unlikely spot for a nest anyway. I suspect it’s just a convenient way station between here and there, then and later, but it pleases me to know that that little bird finds our front porch to be a place of refuge, a home, however fleeting it may be.
This morning I walked about the neighborhood, enjoying the icy world that’s descended on us for the past few days. There hasn’t been much precipitation, but how quiet and still everything seems when encased in ice.
On the trail, all I heard was the sound of my feet crunching through the sheet of ice that formed over the grass. Around me everything shimmered, grey and wonderful.
I walked off the trail into a sort of meadow that I’d never noticed before and found myself surrounded by trees that seemed more ominous than they do on a summer day.
But it’s the smaller things that really beg for attention, the way the ice surrounding a twig catches the grey sky.
Or the prickly pears with each spine covered in a crystalline sheath.
Being cold outside has become such a foreign sensation to me that it’s utterly thrilling, but the best part is, of course, coming home to a bowl of soup.
Yesterday was MLK day and today and tomorrow are snow/ice days for many people, me included. The last time we had one of these that shut things down to this degree was in February 1996. Two weeks later the mercury hit 100 and it didn’t rain again until August.
Today, though, was a good day of chili and reading and watching the sky fall.