Anyone for Stump?

Here is what goes on in places where it's frigid all winter and there's not a lot of "entertainment" to be had. Such as northern NH. Games like "stump" are born and cultivated. Actually I have no idea where stump originated, but since moving to NH, Andy and I have both learned about this game from unrelated sources, so it's obviously got a stronghold here.

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Here is how to play: Get yourself some buddies, a stump, a hammer, and a nail for each player. And don't forget the beer if you've got any. Each person's nail is started in the stump in a circular pattern. Next comes the fun part... each player takes turns stunt throwing the hammer up into the air - a sucessful catch with one flip in the air is one "hit", two flips = 2 hits, under the leg = 2 hits, and around the back = 3 hits. Drop it and you drink. With your awarded "hits" you get to bang in other player's nails. If your nail is hit, you drink. The last nail which has not been driven entirely into the stump is the winner. Nothing like alcohol and airborne hammers.

I got a chance to see the game in action this weekend (at a work function, so minus the beer). Enjoy the photos, and let me know if you want to play... we've got plenty of stumps up here.

Pine Grosbeaks!

Long Weekend, Not Long Enough

It's about this time every year that I have had it with winter. We got another dump of 8 inches last night and it's depressing to see the mountainous yellow-gray snowbanks towering on the sides of the streets, some of them are several times as tall as I am. There are so many days to go before they will be completely gone. I am happy that it's actually light out until 5:30 pm though, and soon Valentine's Day will turn into St. Patty's Day which will turn into Easter...

Last week was a pretty stressful one for us, since I narrowly escaped a round of layoffs at work prompted by the failing economy, and we were trying not to dwell on all the repercussions if I were to lose my job. Somewhat miraculously, my position was not cut, but it's hard to be too happy about that when several of your immediate co-workers with young families have not been as lucky. The office atmosphere is a bit depressing at the moment.

The long weekend gave me a chance to escape all that for 3 days, and we made the best of it. We went out for a nice Valentine's Day/President's Day brunch over the long weekend, and made a quick afternoon trip to the seacoast to throw rocks in the water and look for waterbirds. Aiden picked up hundreds of empty periwinkle shells, but didn't want to take any back to New London, and threw them all back to their "home" in the ocean. We had to really work to convince him that going for a swim was not a smart idea in February.

Plucky Girl

With most parrots, you really can't tell from looking them whether they are male or female. The only true ways to tell are the following: if your bird lays an egg, it's a girl; either that or get a DNA test. I have called Tupelo a girl from the day we got her, figuring that if she did lay an egg, then I would not have to "change" her sex. Nine years later, tupe has never laid an egg, but some of her favorite things to say are "Good girl!" and "Tupee-girl!!" so she is now invested in her girliness, so to speak. Needless to say, I was in no mood to rush out and get a DNA test to prove her wrong.

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But when we got home from our week in Florida recently, we realized that Tupe had started plucking her feathers out. This is (unfortunately) a common issue with Quaker parrots, and could be the result of an infection, parasites, skin problems, or behavioral issue. So Andy brought her to an avian vet in Concord, where they took all sorts of tests and blood samples including, yes, a DNA sex test. And so, it turns out we were able to confirm a few things about our little green chicken:

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1) Tupe is too fat. (20 grams overweight, to be exact)

2) Tupe is a GIRL! (awww...)

3) Tupe is bored.

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The prescription is an interesting one. And very labor intensive. We have to teach Tupe (and Zaitsy, who by the way is SOO ANGRY about this) to forage. The theory is that birds in the wild spend about a third of their waking hours preening, a third of their time foraging and eating, and a third of their time socializing. If eating takes them only a few minutes since all the food is provided in a known spot (their bowl) then they have to fill up the remainder of their day with something else... and that something else is preening for tupe. So she is an "overpreener."

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To fix it, we have to "hide" her food and make her look for it, thereby occupying more of her day so she does not "overpreen". Like wrapping up treats in paper or wedging them around her cage in different places every day, and just generally not making it easy to find. So far it has been slow-going. Zaitsy is absolutely livid that his nutri-berries are not where they should be, but Tupe is just dumbfounded. The fourth thing we've confirmed about Tupe: She's not the brighest egg in the easter basket. If she can't see the food in her bowl directly, she figures it doesn't exist. Even if she watched you wrap it in paper. Sigh. At least she will lose that 20 grams in short order :)

Beaver vs. Hawk Owl

This weekend we dragged our unsuspecting toddler on a 2 hour "drive to nowhere" (from his perspective). Actually we drove an hour west to Center Harbor, NH to see a Northern Hawk Owl that has been hanging out there for a few weeks. We did warn Aiden that we were going to see a "Hawk Owl" and he just looked at us and said, "Hawkowl, Momoo?" "Hawkowl, Dadoo?," with his head tilted as if to say, "Really?! Is this necessary?" And it was.

We noticed the group of birders standing there with their scopes and cameras pointed before we saw the Hawk Owl, and then we got some satisfying looks at the bird (usually a species found much further north, a lifer for both of us), as well as some unsatisfying photos (the light was terrible).

Is it a hawk, or is it an owl?

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But don't feel sorry for Mr. Fussabud Aiden-Aiden-Poop. He spent the afternoon in the garage with Dadoo building a new toolbox, just like Beaver Carpenter's!! Ever since HaPa and Grandma gave him the book "Beaver the Carpenter," we have read it umpteen times per day and Andy has been promising that the two of them would build a toolbox together like Beaver does, from the actual plans in the book. Only one problemo: Beaver is Canadian (he IS a beaver, after all) and his plans are in millimeters. Andy made a valiant attempt to convert all the measurments to inches to coincide with our only shop ruler, but gave up shortly and just fudged the dimensions a bit. Still a very nice finished product if you ask me! All the tools Grandma Chris gave Aiden for Christmas fit nicely, with room to spare (more tools, Grandma?)

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If you ask Aiden what he did this weekend, do you think he mentions any Hawk Owl?

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