A murder of crows - really?

Anyone who knows me is aware of my fierce interest in humane animal care. In addition, it's always interesting to me to know how animals received their names and later their group designations. The great joy in the morning is watching the critters who grace the Critter Café and gobble up everything in sight. It's especially fun to watch the Crows and Ravens interact with the Squirrels, while the Banded Pigeons and Jays ignore their antics and go about the business of scarfing down seed and peanuts as rapidly as possible. I already knew that a group of Crows is called a murder, which strikes me as the most blatantly erroneous name that could possibly be assigned to a species. Crows don't murder -- they cleanup after murders since they are carrion eaters. So that made me look up the other creatures who visit, and some seem apt, and others seem like someone had too much to drink the night before they named them. See what you think:

Ravens are either a conspiracy or an unkindness My observations of their behavior would dispute both of those vehemently.

Squirrels are a scurry or drey. Scurry makes sense to me, but a drey is actually their nest, so what makes that a gang of Squirrels?

Pigeons (banded or otherwise) are a flock, kit, or plague. A plague? Really? Maybe in New York City. But definitely not here.

Jays are referred to as a band. Apparently someone thought their squawks reminded them of musicians. The Jays who frequent the Critter Café sound more imperious than musical.

Doves are a dole or a flight. Mmmmkay, Have no idea what the thought was there.

And last, but not least, Coyotes are a band. Yup. That makes sense.

My suspicion is that many of these designations were made before actual study of animals in their natural habitats. It may be time to rethink some of these.

Artistic tile in an usual place

Sitting in a doctor's office is never much fun. After all, one is usually there for some reason that's concerning. Every now and then, though, there's something to take your mind off waiting for grim news (or relief), and knowing my penchant for tile art, this office fit the bill for a lovely distraction. The building is clearly older and has some interesting architectural features, but the staircase is special. The tile on the steps is artistic, but it was the tile trim against the brick wall that makes this distinctive. At first I thought it was painted, but nope, it's actually tile work.  From one angle, it looked like the brick was cut around the tile, but further inspection indicates the tile is simply on the brick, which makes sense because cutting brick to shape would be a nightmare. It's a true work of art.

Every now and then, I amaze even myself

While I do like trying to figure out how to fix things, and the cheaper the better, every now and then the solution is so stunningly easy, it amazes me. So, here was the issue. One of our dog beds that had a bolster running around two sides, decided to fall apart - the bolster that is. Not surprising, since the fabric holding the stuffing in was more like toilet paper than real cloth. So, being the fixer, I cobbled together some pillow slips and stuffed the batting in with the cheesy cloth taped together, and well, you don't need to know the details of that mess. It turned out to be more of a problem since it was too big for the cover and it required two of us to muscle it into place every time the bed was washed. Not fun. So the last time we were struggling with it, I decided to just throw it out and let the dogs lie on a perfectly comfortable bed with nothing to lean against. That's not breaking any laws, right? Well, Nellie and Rascal  were none too pleased with that arrangement. So I hauled the tossed bolster out of the trash (fortunately nothing else had been tossed in) and decided to figure out a solution that actually worked. And I did. Okay, it's not perfect, but it serves the purpose nicely, is very easy to stuff in, and the dogs have given their blessing for the arrangement. Whew!

I started with cut off legs of sweat pants. Now, you're clearly wondering why perfectly good sweat pants would be cut off. Well, five pairs were sacrificed for the first hip surgery. Let's leave it at that. I saved the pieces thinking they would ultimately make pockets for some sweat shirts, but that never happened. So, being a miser with fabric, the pieces were in a drawer just waiting for a higher calling. 

 The next step was to sew them together to make a tunnel, tie off one end, start stuffing, and then tie off the other end. The bed needed two. It took hardly any time at all. This is the bed already stuffed on one side, with the next bolster ready to go.

While the sewn bolsters clearly don't fill the entire space, it's close enough for rock 'n' roll. And again, the dogs approve so that makes it A-OK.

Who says sour can't be fun

I can't seem to grow fruit trees. The Bearss lime tree planted over ten years ago is still an infant and has produced exactly 5 limes (the size of cotton balls) in all that time. Way back in the day, there was a struggling lemon tree, which happily produced a few lemons until it fell over in a storm. It looked to be about 50 years old when we moved in, so we weren't surprised that it decided to give up. The point is, that having lemon in my afternoon tea is a requirement, and there are no trees in our yard to supply that demand. Except -- this neighborhood has abundant lemons and people are so willing to share. Yes, they even leave boxes of fresh picked lemons on the front porch, knowing they will be juiced in a nano second and put to good use. Now here's where it gets a bit messy. Juicing is time consuming and cleanup is no fun, but what to do with the rinds? If you just toss them in compost, they simply get rock hard and take forever to decompose. Throwing them in the trash should be punishable by having to perform a several block trash pickup, so what's the answer? Well, it's time consuming, but there is a solution. Just cut the rinds into tiny pieces, set them out to dry, and then put them in a blender to create a wonderful lemon dust that happily goes into the compost tumbler. Also helps to keep it smelling fresher. Or, if you don't have a compost pile, you can add it directly to the soil as it helps plants that prefer a little acidity. 

This pile represents 1-1/2 hour of juicing and 1 hour of slicing rinds. A perfect combo for a drizzly, cloudy day. 

A year later and progress is slow

The Eton and Palisades Fires created a path of destruction that was unprecedented in Southern California. While there has been much finger-pointing and blame for the fires, that doesn't help with the rebuild. As of now, there is only ONE fully completed house out of over 9,000 structures destroyed. At that rate, the Earth will have crashed into the Sun before all the structures are rebuilt. The other shame is that even structures that were damaged, but not destroyed, are taking forever to get back to livable conditions. It is heart wrenching to see such slow progress. Walking the dogs past still vacant lots is heartrending. 

This house was damaged on the outside. A matter of a new roof and new stucco. Still waiting.

The Girl with No Name

Normally I just like to read and keep my opinions to myself. Since cozy English mysteries are the go-to most of the time, nobody needs to have a book review. Occasionally, however, a book, usually of the nonfiction kind, will impress me enough that talking about it seems the thing to do. One such book is A Girl with No Name, by Marina Chapman, her daughter Vanessa, and the ghost-writer (in this case the actual writer), Lynne Barrett-Lee. It purports to be the true story of a woman who was kidnapped from her Columbian home around the age of 5, dumped in the jungle where she grew up with a troupe of monkeys for four or five years, and then found her way back to human civilization via some illegal trade wildlife hunters. From there she was basically sold into slavery and the rest of her childhood was a horror story of abuse until she was finally able to escape that life and reach safety. Her recollection of events are both gruesome and fascinating. And I'm having trouble believing it. Apparently others believe she may have false memories as well, so I'm not the only skeptic. Though I have serious doubts about the veracity of the story, it is an interesting read. And if even half of it is true, then Marina is one brave and amazing survivor.

Bailey being soothed with dog candy

Our friend Bailey, who is also going through a tough time with flooding and torrential rains far north of us, has not been happy with the situation at all. Definitely do not blame her. Fortunately, her Mom knows just what to do, and it being Christmas and all, it made sense. Snuggling on a comfy bed with a huge chewy is the best way to relax.