Monday, August 20, 2007, 21:46
Hot and Cold Weather
A week ago Saturday while I was taking pictures at the meat animal auction at the fair, it was sweltering. Randy went with me, and we only had to stand in the auction barn for a few minutes and we were drenched with sweat. It was absolutely miserable.
Strong thunderstorms blew through later in the night, but we didn't get much rain out of it.
Monday it was hot and sweltering again, and Monday evening more storms blew in. We got about 3/4 of an inch. It didn't storm hard here, but south of here, in the town where the newspaper is located that I write for, there were trees and powerlines down and semi-trucks flipped over on the Interstate.
What a difference in only a week's time.
Last Saturday, it was unbearably hot and sweltering. This Saturday, it was what you would call almost cold.
Flea Market
I got up early Saturday morning to take my books to a flea market in town. The flea market was at a park that is only a half block from the newspaper office. Randy followed me in with his truck and helped me set up my tent awning and get the table set up and so forth. The flea market was in conjunction with a few other events going on in and near the park. The sale started at 8 a.m. and was supposed to finish up at 3 p.m.
The sky was overcast Saturday morning, and the weather forecast the night before had talked about rain in the Twin Cities. I wasn't too worried about rain in the Twin Cities. It has been our experience here for the past four years that when it rains in the Twin Cities, it does not rain here.
Randy helped me set up, and then he went to run some errands and to go back home. He planned to come back later in the afternoon to help me pack up again. Usually when I go to a craft sale, I don't have the luxury of having any help setting up and tearing down because usually, the craft sales are many miles away. This one was only 15 miles away, so it was practically in our backyard.
Cold and Raw
As I sat by my table under my blue tent awning Saturday morning, a cold, raw wind blew out of the south. The temperature was about 60 degrees. In the summer, a south wind usually means hot, dry weather. But this south wind, like a south wind in the winter, was cold and damp.
I had worn a zip-up, hooded fleece jacket, and as I sat there, I decided it would be a good idea to put the heavy hooded sweatshirt I had brought with me *over* the fleece jacket.
I haven't been that bundled up since last March.
As the minutes ticked away, it began to mist. By mid-morning, it was actually raining at a fairly steady rate, although not too terribly hard. I went to the food vendor's trailer to get something to eat, and I asked if they had heard any weather forecasts.
"They're saying that once it starts raining, it's not going to stop," the woman behind the counter said.
"What?" I said.
"They're saying that once it starts raining, it's not going to stop," the woman repeated.
"That's what I thought you said," I said.
Internet weather
When I got back to my booth, I used my cell phone to call Randy to see if he was home. He wasn't. He was at the church, trying to finish up the rest of the trimming. He had mowed the lawn Friday night. It was raining too hard to do anymore trimming now, though, so he said he would head home and check the weather radar on the Internet.
He called me back a few minutes later.
"Rain all the way through Minnesota and down into Iowa," he said. "It doesn't look like it will be finished any time soon."
"That's what I figured," I said. "That's what they've been saying around here."
Because it was so cold and wet and damp -- and now raining -- very few people had turned out for the flea market and the other events. As I sat there talking to Randy, a number of other vendors were already packing up to leave.
"Some of the vendors are leaving already," I said. "Maybe I should leave, too."
"Might not be a bad idea," Randy said.
When the weather is nice, I don't mind going to outside sales. But when the weather is rainy, I don't like to have my books sitting out. There are many things that can get wet and when you dry them out, they're none the worse for the experience. But books aren't one of them.
"I think I should pack up and leave," I said to Randy.
"I'll be there in 20 minutes to help," he said.
Packing Up
I have put up the tent awning and taken it down myself, but it is much, much easier if you've got two people working at it.
I carried my sign board back to the truck, which I had left parked at the newspaper office. Then I went inside the office and talked to my editor for a few minutes. She had "obituary duty" and was just finishing up when I walked in. The newspaper goes to press for Sunday early Saturday afternoon, and if a late obituary comes in, it gets put into the paper on Saturday morning for the Sunday edition.
When I left the office a few minutes later, it was still raining, a slow, steady, cold drizzle.
By the time I got the books packed up and the tablecloth put away, Randy had arrived. We took the awning down, and then Randy helped me carry the rest of my things back to my truck.
The rain continued for most of Saturday afternoon. It was still raining Saturday evening. And it rained during the night on Saturday.
Sunday morning it was still drizzling and misting. And it rained off and on during the day Sunday.
We have not had two days of soaking rain in a couple of years.
By Sunday evening, we had gotten an inch and a half of rain.
All day Monday, it also stayed cloudy and cool, and it rained a bit more during the afternoon with more rain in the forecast, although whether we do get more rain remains to be seen.
So much for the flea market/craft sale on Saturday. I sold two books while I was there. But like I told Randy -- we need the rain so badly, it really was worth getting rained out.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Friday, August 17, 2007, 21:38
A Near-Drowning Incident
I was moving around at top speed Friday morning, trying to get the horses fed and the dogs fed and the barn kitties taken care of and medicine into Guinevere before I had to head off to cover a court hearing for the newspaper.
When I checked Kajun's bucket outside, I stopped short.
Floating in the water was a baby sparrow.
Usually at least once during the summer, I will find a baby bird drowned in Kajun's water tub in the barn or his water bucket outside.
As I untied the bucket, however, I noticed that the baby bird was not dead.
Shivering
I tipped the bucket forward so that the little bird slid out with the water and was gently deposited on the ground. As I looked closer, I couldn't help but notice the poor little creature was shivering uncontrollably.
Well, of course he was shivering. The air temperature overnight was 44 degrees -- so the water in the bucket was 44 degrees too.
I carefully picked up the baby bird and looked around. I knew I couldn't leave him on the ground because either a cat or Charlie would be sure to fin d him. Maybe if I set him on top of a fence post, he could rest there until he warmed up.
Unfortunately, the little bird was just too cold and could not keep his balance. Down he tumbled off the fencepost.
I picked him up again and looked around the barn for something else. What about a flower pot? I could set the little guy in the flower pot and then hang the flower pot from the fence. He would be safe there.
Flower Pot
The flower pot, I discovered when I set the sparrow into it, was too small for the bird to sit in comfortably.
I looked around some more What about the wheelbarrow?
I pushed the wheelbarrow out into the sun and set the bird in the wheelbarrow. He flopped around pathetically and then laid motionless on his side. Well, not motionless. He was still shivering uncontrollably.
I went into the barn and picked up a couple of handfuls of chaff. Maybe I could make a nest for the baby sparrow.
When I had piled the chaff into a small nest, I set the bird in the middle of it. He was not really conscious that I was there. He closed his eyes and huddled down into the chaff, shivering.
What Else?
I finished feeding the horses, and all the while, I tried to think of something else I could put the baby sparrow into. I had another bigger flower pot with holes in the bottom in the basement. Maybe that would work. If I left the sparrow in the wheelbarrow, any cat could come along, and that would be it for the bird.
Once I had located the flower pot in the basement, I headed back out to the barn. I found two twine strings to put through the holes in the bottom so I could hang the flower pot from the fence.
When I approached the wheelbarrow, the little sparrow's eyes snapped open. He was no longer shivering. As I reached for him, he scrambled out of his hay chaff nest and up over the side of the wheelbarrow. He flopped onto the ground, and then, faster than I would have thought possible since he still could not fly, headed across the grass toward's Kajun's pasture.
Safe Haven
"You can't stay out on the ground, you know. The horse could step on you. Or a cat could find you," I said, as I followed the young bird across the grass.
Finally he made his way over to a wooden box tipped on its side. The box used to be a feeder for the horses, but lately, I have been using it to prop open Kajun's gate when I let him into the L pasture.
The baby sparrow scrambled into the box and sat there looking at me, blinking.
"Stay there and don't make a lot of noise," I said. "If you rest up, maybe you'll be able to fly soon."
It was then that I became conscious of the adult sparrows. They are the regular house sparrows. English Weaver Finches, actually. And they were sitting on the gate, scolding me at the tops of their lungs.
"I'm not after your baby. I'm trying to help it," I said.
The adult sparrows obviously didn't believe me.
Taking Care of Babies
Before this summer, I sort of -- God help me -- thought of house sparrows somewhat as pests. They take over all of the bird houses and won't let other birds nest.
Then one day, I happened to watch a male house sparrow with his children. Daddy sparrow brought them to the bird feeder to show them were they could get something to eat. The male sparrow landed on the platform bird feeder, and three youngsters landed next to him.
The male house sparrow picked up seed and went from one baby to the next, patiently, gently, tenderly feeding them from his own beak. Then a blue jay landed on the platform. The blue jay was obviously too much of a threat, so the male sparrow flew into the pine tree by the bird feeder, the babies right behind him.
I watched as the male sparrow flew back and forth from the feeder to the pine tree. Each time he flew into the pine tree, I heard the babies chirping, so I knew he was feeding them where they were perched in the tree.
I had no idea male house sparrows took care of their babies that way.
Hissy Fits
Since then, I have noticed the house sparrows going into a royal fit if one of the barn cats comes by the gate to the horse pasture. The baby sparrows like to sit on the metal horse gate, and even though the cats can't get up there to get at the birds -- or at least they can't get up there very easily -- Momma and Daddy sparrow pitch a hissy fit and let the cats know they are not welcome.
I didn't have time Friday morning to wait around to see if the baby sparrow would be able to fly. I had to take a shower and leave to cover the court hearing. Since the sparrow warmed up so quickly and was able to move around enough to get to the wooden box, I am hoping he was able to rest until he had regained all of his strength. I know the momma and daddy sparrow were right there, sitting on the gate, watching over him, because they were still scolding me as I crawled through the fence.
Guinevere: The fungus test for my old kitty cat Guinevere came back negative. I took her into the vet clinic again Thursday, and the vet has now put her on three kinds of antibiotics. She will be on two of them for three weeks all together. I don't know how she is going to hold up under so much antibiotic therapy, but I know if I don't try something, she won't last much longer, anyway. The poor cat is now down to 7 pounds -- half of what she weighed when she was feeling well. I've got to say, though, for a sick cat, she sure can run away awfully fast when it's time for me to give her medicine. And of course, since she has to get medicine so often, she now runs every time she sees me. (Sigh.)
LeAnn R. Ralph