Coffee heat rising

No Ducklings in Sight…

Well, we discovered DUCK’s nest on May 14. She was first spotted on April 11, a month earlier, but it wasn’t until the middle of May that Ruby found her nest. Assuming she’d begun to lay by then, I think it’s safe to assume that she’s not going to hatch any of the eggs sitting there.

Mallards, we’re told, take 24 to 28 days to hatch. The mother doesn’t begin incubating until all the eggs are laid; at a laying rate of one egg per day, the incubation period started no later than May 25. Today is June 22, which would make today Break-Out Day. So far, though, no sign of any babes.

It’s likely she started laying sooner than May 14, though, because she was SO determined not to leave the pool area after I discovered her. If she had begun laying in April, then the ducklings are way overdue.

She still sits on the nest at least part of the day. But she’s gone for extended periods now. The weather is so hot that she presumably could leave for quite awhile without having them cool down…it’s 5 p.m. right now, and the back porch thermometer says 110 degrees. That’s in the shade.

So, I suspect DUCK is returning for a few hours a day out of habit or forlorn hope. But it looks like that hope really is forlorn, indeed. {sigh}

House Repair the First

The Funny Farm needs a long series of small fix-ups, most of which I’ve put off for lack of anyone to do them. Recently, though, I found a handyman through Angie’s List who seems to be an experienced craftsman and is a very nice gentleman, to boot.

Abigail’s recent post on the endless costs of damfool things you can’t do yourself (or know better than to try) spoke to me as all this was coming to fruition.

So he came over on Saturday morning to attend to the most urgent matter: A previous owner replaced the doors on one of the bedroom closets with a set of flimsy, cheaply made louvered things. They were great, but a few years ago they began to fall apart. I’ve limped along with them, though, sorta fixing them but mostly putting off the inevitable. Finally they reached the point where they threatened to fall on my head or Luz’s if they were dusted one more time.

The developer equipped the closets with ordinary flat, no-panel, paintable composite bifold doors that slide back and forth on an overhead track. They’re certainly nothing fancy — the place is just a little tract house, after all — but they’re sturdy and unobtrusive. Why on earth anyone would replace them with cheesy louvers escapes me. But there they were.

So on Saturday our guy went by the Depot and bought a pair of replacement doors. By some sort of miracle, they were still being made in a size that fit the door opening in a 44-year-old shack. Earlier I’d bought a can of Dunn Edwards’s finest in the desired gaudy color, and so he went right to work. In short order, he had the things installed. And I think they look just fine:

P1030572
As usual, click on the image for a better view.

Still have to get a pair of knobs to go with the fake-pewter knobs that hold forth throughout the manse. Amazingly, Amazon has a style very much like the ones I got years ago at the now-defunct Great Indoors. If I don’t find anything at HD or Lowe’s when I’m up in that direction tomorrow, I may just order those.

That room essentially functions as a hallway to the doggy-door and as storage. Off-season clothing goes in the closet, and the armoire that no longer holds a television set is full of bed linens.

So it was kind of annoying to have to spend $333 to upgrade it. Still, with that cheap little area rug I picked up at Pier One, the room now looks better than any of the other rooms in the house!

Surely would love to have area rugs down in the living room and family room. But a) they’re more trouble to clean than they’re worth and b) with dogs, area rugs are powerfully contraindicated. Because…where does a dog invariably go when it feels moved to barf, pee, or dump? To the softest spot it can find!

At that would be, yea invariably, the nicest area rug in the house.

So we have tile. Acres and acres of tile.

Other handyman chores remain for our guy to take on:

  • Replace the kitchen faucet
  • Replace the bathroom faucet (if I get rich in the porn novelette biz, make that “replace the bathroom  countertop, sink, and faucet”)
  • Install new weatherstripping around all the exterior doors
  • Replace the cracked tiles on the kitchen countertop
  • Replace the cracked tiles in the living room
  • Replace the laundry room faucet
  • Repair the cracks around the fireplace hearth and touch up paint
  • Repair popped drywall nails and cracks in three rooms

And I’m sure I can dream up all sorts of other things to keep him amused.

All of these will have to wait until I have more money. But the door was a major annoyance, and it was becoming unsafe.

 

Lost Mockingbird Chick

Yesterday afternoon Ruby the Corgi Pup shot across the side yard and GRABBED something! O doggie joy!

It was a baby mockingbird, just starting to fledge but not big enough to fly yet. When I hollered, Ruby dropped the little chick.

At first it looked like her wing was broken, but in short order she had it back in place and was able to move it normally. Other than being terrorized, she seemed fine.

Ruby back in the house. Lock Ruby and Cassie indoors.

I figured the best thing to do was to leave Chick outside where she was sheltering in the shade and CHIRK-ing for her mother. Usually with wild things, it’s best to let nature take its course. Probably (I hoped) she could fly well enough to make her way back into a tree and from there to find her nest.

But no.

A couple of hours later, the mother bird was CHIRK-ing from the lime tree, trying to lure her babe back home. The babe was CHIRK-ing from the ground but making no effort to move.

Half an hour before closing time, I called Liberty Wildlife, a wildlife rescue group. Unfortunately they no longer come by to help save critters in predicaments — some years ago they rescued a hummingbird that flew into the house and decided the only exit was through a skylight (unopenable). But the recession threw them into a permanent tailspin, and they no longer have the resources to do that. The woman I spoke with referred me to another woman, who referred me to another woman.

While these worthies were on the phone, I asked them about the care and feeding of DUCK and her progeny. All three said that baby ducks routinely drown in swimming pools, because they can’t make it from the surface of the water over the coping to the ground. The third woman, who eventually took Chick, said I should gather up the eggs and bring them to her, and she would put them in an incubator.

Welp. In the first place, it’s against the law to mess with a wild mallard’s nest. In the second place, I don’t want to mess with DUCK’s nest. And in the third place, the third woman I spoke with sounded…well, kind of nutty.

And yea verily, when I arrived at her house with CHICK, she proved to be…well, kind of nutty. Their house, in a down-at-the-heels “arty” section of North Phoenix, had been transformed into a kind of aviary and wild-mammal kennel. When I say “nutty” here, I mean seriously nutty.

However, the strange woman quickly made it obvious that she was very knowledgeable about wild birds. And in fact, she proved to be a kind of Mockingbird Whisperer. As soon as she picked up the terrorized little bird and stroked it under its birdie chin, it relaxed, closed its eyes, and looked as if it would purr if only it could figure out how.

One glance at Chick and she exclaimed, “Oh, you have pox on your eyes!” When I asked what that meant, she pointed out the wart-like growths over the bird’s upper eyelids. Hm.

Soon as I got home, I called up the Hypochondriac’s Treasure Chest. And indeed, avian pox or a bacterial infection with similar symptoms was probably what ailed Chick. Pox can infect a bird’s throat and innards. So it’s possible that the little bird was on the ground because it was sick and was going to die anyway.

{sigh}

The eccentric bird rescuer said she would dose Chick with antibiotics, and maybe the bird would recover. She said she’d raised many mockingbirds.

By the time I got home, the mother mockingbird was gone.

Meanwhile, we have the problem of the drownable ducklings. More to come on that, after I figure out what to do about it…

Spider Gems

Click on this!
Click on this!

When the sprinkling system came on the potted plants this morning, a delicate and almost invisible spider web caught these exquisite little gems.

Cat Wars: Reinforcing the Battlements

tabbycatSo the carpet-tack strips I zip-tied along the tops of the cinderblock walls by way of discouraging Other Daughter’s nuisance cat from jumping into the yard, predating on the birds and geckos, and using my desert landscaping as a giant litterbox have worked middling well. I haven’t seen her atop the wall for a long time, nor have I found any of her parasite-laden little doggy treats laying around the backyard.

And so, as crackpot as this particular decorative element appears, it seems to be working to keep the damn cat out.

A year and a half later, the strips have buckled and warped under the onslaught of rain and sun. Fortunately, this was easily fixed simply by adding a another half-dozen plastic zip-ties. They’ll last a few more months before I have to take them down and replace them.

But the problem of the caps atop the cinderblock support columns remains. They present no practical way to tie down pieces of carpet-tack strips. Aluminum pans full of water, besides looking even crazier than the tack strips, breed mosquitoes and get tipped over by mockingbirds using them as watering holes.

I ended up jury-rigging some little squares of carpet tacks, which provided a couple of crossbars that could be tied to the decorative blocks abutting some, but not all of the columns. These worked to keep the cat from perching on the columns, but they can’t be tied down firmly — or, in one corner, at all — and so the buckling renders them even more bizarre-looking than the straight pieces and, where no tiedown is reasonable, essentially nonfunctional.

What to do?

Several folk sites on the Internet claim that cats dislike tinfoil. With a lifetime supply of Costco aluminum foil residing in the pantry, this would be an easy and cheap fix.

However, one crass skeptic has mounted a video in which he tests this theory. He tapes lengths of tinfoil down a short, hardwood-floored hallway and lets the camera run.

Kitty approaches the new carpeting with suspicion. She sniffs. She tests it tentatively with a paw. Then she strides over it, marches up to the camera, and rubs her furry flank across its lens.

😆 Yay, crass skeptics!

More believable is the claim that cats don’t like sticky stuff under their feet. We’re told that double-sided tape stuck atop a counter or on furniture you would like to remain un-clawed will discourage counter-roaming and sofa-ripping.

Possibly. At Amazon, reviewers of an anti-cat product designed to stick on upholstered furniture report that the cat simply removes the tape and then proceeds with its project of shredding the sofa.

However. Perching on top of something is different from clawing fabric. There actually IS a good chance that sticky stuff could repel Other Daughter’s cat from the cinderblock column caps.

However1. Sticky stuff will stay sticky about 48 hours out there. So much crap drops out of the Devil-Pod Tree and also, at this time of year, out of the paloverde tree that a sticky surface would soon be rendered nonfunctional.

This returns us to the question of how to affix tack strips to the column caps, even if temporarily.

How about using double-sided tape to hold them down? Scotch sells an exterior mounting tape that is beloved by a huge majority of Amazon reviewers. The minority who whinge about it complain that it doesn’t hold up certain objects. But as a weapon in the Cat Wars, the stuff would lay flat — it wouldn’t be called upon to stick anything to the side of a wall. Some of the product’s admirers claim that heat only makes it work better; it seems to lose effectiveness in sub-freezing temps. Those do not occur around here, at least not often.

This could be the answer. Four hundred and fifty feet of heavy-duty double-sided tape would hold down a lot 18-inch strips of cat-repellent tack sticks.

House_gecko_with_spiderIn the absence of Other Daughter’s accursed cat, life has begun to return to the backyard. The gecko population is slowly recovering.

And in the presence of geckos, the mosquito population has declined.

We still have some, but nothing like the swarms that normally harass the Funny Farm’s warm-blooded denizens at this time of  year.

The flies also seem to have declined a little. Still enough to be a nuisance, but not six or eight in the house at a time.

And I believe there are more birds out there than before.

And there’s a duck.

Yes. DUCK. A little research reveals that it takes baby ducks about 60 days to fledge. So if they hatch and if they survive, they’ll be around for most of the summer.

DUCK is not disturbed by the presence of the human in the pool. Today I do have to shock-treat, since we’re starting to get some algae. But the only time she leaves the nest to forage is around 3 to 4 in the afternoon. So I figure if I slip some chlorine into the drink early in the morning, by mid-afternoon the water should be safe for her even if she happens to go into the pool. Which she doesn’t. Not often, anyway.

M’hijto remarked that the ducklings are likely to be picked off by the neighbor’s damned cat, if not by the coyotes, the raccoons, and the resident red-tail.

Hence the project to shore up the battlements. Quack!

YoungDucksminimized

Ant Wars: The Battle of the Garage

 The Ant Queen has marshaled her troops once again. Over the weekend the little Amazons launched their forays with great élan. In fact, they did something no one would have thought possible for Ant nor Man: raided a big pot full of dishware soaking in Dawn detergent. Apparently the prize of cooking oil floating atop the toxic stew was too much to resist.

Saturday night M’hijito came over and we prepared one of our amazing feasts: an entire bag of Costco mussels, steamed in butter, garlic, and white wine. Now those were good!

musselsOf course, a large project like this creates a large pile of dirty dishes, none of which I happened to feel like scrubbing after having spent half the day eating and drinking. So I hauled the huge kettle we’d used out to the garage utility sink, dosed it mightily with Dawn, and filled it to the top with soapy water. Dropped a couple of smaller pans into it and went on about my business.

Come Sunday morning, I opened the door to the garage to drop something in the recycling basket, and HOLY maquerel! The place was a-swarm with busy ants!

Busy, biting ants.

They’re raiding the trash basket — apparently we’d dropped something nummy in there. But then I look over at the sink and find three times as many of the little gals charging the giant soup kettle as are dallying with the trash can.

WTF????  They actually were attacking a potful of Dawn detergent!

And they were brooking no competition.

Braving a barrage of bites, I charged into the breach. Dumped the water down the sink (damn! Was there that much grease in there? How clogged can a sink clog?) and blasted the Enemy’s troops with a squirt cannon loaded with Dawn.

dawn detergBugs hate Dawn. It kills them dead.

They went on the retreat. Followed them to a crack under the garage’s side door, whence they had entered my territory.

Not just any crack. It appears the Hive is actually under the slab there. They weren’t exiting through a crack along the door threshold. They were disappearing into it.

Interesting.

Sprinkled food-grade diatomaceous earth along their retreat route and all along the door’s little concrete threshold. Especially around the entry to their Castle.

Before long, the survivors had disappeared.

I suspect they’re not gone. For the nonce, though, they’re in abeyance.