tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22640958338277856002024-03-05T20:55:32.504-08:00The Dr Codfish ChroniclesPaul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.comBlogger384125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-57454732429172726402017-07-16T20:31:00.002-07:002017-07-16T20:44:17.692-07:00<br />
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Season of Plenty</h2>
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We feed birds, intentionally, and sometimes unintentionally. I notice now that most of the regular visitors, the chickadees, the Goldfinches, the scrub jays and others are now bringing their young to the feeder. Chairman notices too. He wants to make a kill but he's just too old and slow now. Still he looks longingly. </div>
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The face of sullen patience</div>
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A spotted towhee</div>
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Gold finch family</div>
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The scub jay chick hammering away at a sunflower seed. Seems like more energy expended than gained. <br />
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the adult stands watch</div>
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The berries are on now. We pick a bowl of each of blue berries and raspberries most nights then have them after dinner or with breakfast in the morning. I have noticed robins raiding the blue berries recently. This evening a robin brought her chick along to see how it is done. She feasted but the chick didn't seem to get it. I'm sure they will be back for another lesson.<br />
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Caught in the act</div>
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The three bucks are in the pasture most mornings, they seem to prefer the raspberries and fresh shoots of almost everything. They especially like my neighbors garden, he finally broke down and built a deer proof fence. </div>
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We went for a ride out on south bank road this morning. It was the perfect day for a ride, broken clouds, a bit cool in the morning but warm by noon.</div>
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The Cedarville volunteers have a sense of humor. This is the USS Cedarville, launched but waiting for the tide to come in. That's 'Station 2' in the background.</div>
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It is that time of year also</div>
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-44203692581314760812017-07-10T22:36:00.000-07:002017-07-10T22:41:55.506-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Graduation Day?</h2>
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quick post here. The big chick was 4 weeks and 2 days old on the 4th of July when (s)he flew from the nest box, never to return. (S)he's now a full time resident of the flight cage, the adults still feed her, but not much, she feeds from the seed cups regularly and we have started making Parakeet Salad to help boost growth. Parakeet Salad you say? Simple recipe really; small dice three parakeets, add two cups of ....hey just kidding. More on Parakeet Salad down the road.</div>
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Anyway, what I am getting at is that the little chick is still in the nest box. We've opened the door to the nest box so that if/when he wants he can just step out on a perch I put there for him. As it happens this makes it super easy for the adults, mom, dad, and even Uncle Oliver to feed him. He hangs out there and the adults come to the perch and feed him. This may be in the process of backfiring, perhaps he'll never see the need to fly so long as the adults keep feeding him.</div>
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It is a good thing actually, I have been weighing him since the big chick flew, to see if he has been maintaining or gaining weight. He actually lost weight recently, went from 37 grams on the 6th, down to 35 grams yesterday. He's getting bigger now, was 36 grams tonight, I think the Parakeet Salad is helping. </div>
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Anyway here are your chick pics for today:</div>
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At The Weigh In</div>
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doesn't feel very hefty to me</div>
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And back in the nest box waiting for someone to feed him</div>
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These may be the last pics of him being held, once they fly they don't just automatically sit on your finger. We have heard him in the nest box fanning his little wings practicing up for the real thing. Perhaps he'll be perched out in the flight cage tomorrow afternoon. </div>
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Little chick will be 4 weeks and 2 days old tomorrow. </div>
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-72294533133429434322017-07-09T13:04:00.000-07:002017-07-09T13:04:46.553-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
A beautiful Day in the Neighborhood</h2>
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As Mr. Rogers would say. But it was Friday and I was stuck in my gray walled cubical staring at the dope scope, fact checking an environmental report on a waste water treatment plant. Oy.</div>
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I got an email message from Brian who has moved to Astoria. He said he was coming to town and wanted to stop by on Saturday to pick up some tools I had borrowed years ago and would I be home, and also, how about a ride (Brian never travels without a bike, even when he's driving).</div>
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Talk about a mood swing! The thought of a sunny day social pace ride out the Southbank road with an old friend really lifted my spirits. So heck yeah bring it on, and about what time will you be showing up? </div>
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That evening as I was doing a tune up ride I thought of the many miles, events, brevets etc. we had ridden together. It occuried to me that friend John who lives just a coulpe miles away might be interested in joining us. I emailed him when I got home and he said he'd be there, '9ish' was the agreed start time. <br />
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Saturday dawned, one of those days that makes any place seem like the nicest place in the world to go for a little bike ride. 70 degrees, sunny, and no wind, that's hard to beat. I am not saying our neighborhood is better than your neighborhood, but when it is like this, the homer in me thinks there is no better place be. </div>
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We rolled out and in less than 5 minutes were tooling along on a country road, bright sunshine broken by deep shadows cast by maples and firs, the occasional car or farm truck rolling by, These folks always give us a wide berth and usually a wave. Southbank road is farm country<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-O0GsM6KHfCj6qKD9k_HfZ5evfRhWGemxiHhChq-dC14I6Nx1QkifCf0Xg5mNEZy4SZbjSn9VBa088hA9wteJTtuILLQZ3pdZTcV99TVeaJ9tZH7X7R7daeGcfhX02nsEoGmx_9chpym/s1600/P1040449.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-O0GsM6KHfCj6qKD9k_HfZ5evfRhWGemxiHhChq-dC14I6Nx1QkifCf0Xg5mNEZy4SZbjSn9VBa088hA9wteJTtuILLQZ3pdZTcV99TVeaJ9tZH7X7R7daeGcfhX02nsEoGmx_9chpym/s400/P1040449.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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and is used almost exclusively used by locals, folks who are not in a rush to get 'somewhere'. They're not put off by those pesky bicycle people. I like that about this place.</div>
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An almost idyllic ride but there is always something wrong with everything. In this case it was the road surface.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgrOCx985qnIuxHYZGo9lflGQnCtenaNKP0FAhqILjzPdhwvoZCg6QCitOeYOO5_6Oeuru_4eawZijIcED0X7oZpXrJUF2iKPJPuwxMxP3UgSY4JbV_x1GNd_a5b-6Xr_lwJfljO2uE_w/s1600/P1040408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgrOCx985qnIuxHYZGo9lflGQnCtenaNKP0FAhqILjzPdhwvoZCg6QCitOeYOO5_6Oeuru_4eawZijIcED0X7oZpXrJUF2iKPJPuwxMxP3UgSY4JbV_x1GNd_a5b-6Xr_lwJfljO2uE_w/s400/P1040408.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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I don't mind keeping my speed below 35 mph, but fresh chip seal is no one's friend. but even that wasn't too bad. The chip seal was a couple weeks old, so it has been swept of the really loose stuff, and has not suffered that searing heat which brings gooey wet tar to the surface to stick to your tires and bike frame. As someone said, it could be worse: it <i>could</i> be 1:00 am and we <i>could</i> be riding in a cold rain and it <i>could </i>be 25K to go to the next control.</div>
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At certain points we went form new chip seal to old smooth pavement</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilg-twbl-zWvaUTKv3DXMQKeGRBOFd1efbXFuo-RETDazBrBPUnr2wb0Wyp1-XWEOpOS9_ZkTTO6lcS3WdQIaDKLXYhWym6bC9pKICTzZ9Me0dWBd_b7cW2ulOzllGI4OV5-YVNGnhHhj_/s1600/P1040445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilg-twbl-zWvaUTKv3DXMQKeGRBOFd1efbXFuo-RETDazBrBPUnr2wb0Wyp1-XWEOpOS9_ZkTTO6lcS3WdQIaDKLXYhWym6bC9pKICTzZ9Me0dWBd_b7cW2ulOzllGI4OV5-YVNGnhHhj_/s400/P1040445.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Or there were segments where the road crew didn't bother to put down new chip seal all the way across the shoulder.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPLa5e7GQssLkqQ7natl8OrA8rIevhk3DXtsnNPjAV7Qr31vt8rq6iEC7EYcuCvPv4y-jQCtdm871k_i6W0EE3nUT8_KhrbyiFc1awaKI-rlQYXaj-Zwq1sejEN93aHKoJjKIqQKYdzgh/s1600/P1040432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPLa5e7GQssLkqQ7natl8OrA8rIevhk3DXtsnNPjAV7Qr31vt8rq6iEC7EYcuCvPv4y-jQCtdm871k_i6W0EE3nUT8_KhrbyiFc1awaKI-rlQYXaj-Zwq1sejEN93aHKoJjKIqQKYdzgh/s320/P1040432.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Hey, little things can become big things, right? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTT6yjykYwaWYUkyrX3ofVXBbj8gNXD35M-LdUv10loRNwPMXA7G6wAUdqVn3-OL5FdB_0BLvNnCFVDQkHJlCOPmILdDIxlUXnJbn3Z4FhOair8xAtT05Zb56CrYSgxV9tCJm-UW_kaZAu/s1600/P1040444.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTT6yjykYwaWYUkyrX3ofVXBbj8gNXD35M-LdUv10loRNwPMXA7G6wAUdqVn3-OL5FdB_0BLvNnCFVDQkHJlCOPmILdDIxlUXnJbn3Z4FhOair8xAtT05Zb56CrYSgxV9tCJm-UW_kaZAu/s400/P1040444.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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This road can devil you however, thanks to a weather phenomenon known as the<a href="http://www.seattleweatherblog.com/clouds/the-chehalis-gap-revealed/"> Chehalis wind Gap</a></div>
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shown here</div>
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<a class="image" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Chehalis_River_07776.JPG"><img alt="Chehalis River 07776.JPG" data-file-height="1920" data-file-width="2560" height="300" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/36/Chehalis_River_07776.JPG/420px-Chehalis_River_07776.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Winds coming in off the Pacific (onshore flow in weatherman speak) meet no resistance where the Chehalis river dumps into the ocean (Aberdeen and Hoquiam) and so we can get monster blowers on days when most everyone else is experiencing light breezes. The weather Gods smiled on is this day, there was no perceptible head wind on the way out however we all noticed a 2 or 3 mph speed increase on the return leg, we were getting a slight push home. </div>
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At Elma we took the obligatory C-store break and had snacks and cold drinks. And then headed back toward Oakville.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFxExqjL15RNEGskl-k_RMGHU_TYRxf2sQ3PX8i0ApqyOlIW0YymPP5S8qiT4tymeCjNWaskaAOvZFVuTou1L0ZJKxOdzTvOs6C1SXODfEJ05u_724omFladm3BpYQvMwPs18MZ5Omxxo/s1600/P1040433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFxExqjL15RNEGskl-k_RMGHU_TYRxf2sQ3PX8i0ApqyOlIW0YymPP5S8qiT4tymeCjNWaskaAOvZFVuTou1L0ZJKxOdzTvOs6C1SXODfEJ05u_724omFladm3BpYQvMwPs18MZ5Omxxo/s400/P1040433.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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There is a nice Osprey nest close to the Chehalis river bridge if you are interested in seeing one of these majestic birds.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3c0quxrJ4EeaUGaBp1gPo2FHmZg2DbRCZISkavguNI63F1-_uhe8zHbhN3pVGRCQ3Mw7b-muLacbf2DRhuk9GJ2OjvovuLbO25lURI1gKrkZuyaH5KcJSk9CL23UjkxA7d7kJhtm-QLm/s1600/P1040438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3c0quxrJ4EeaUGaBp1gPo2FHmZg2DbRCZISkavguNI63F1-_uhe8zHbhN3pVGRCQ3Mw7b-muLacbf2DRhuk9GJ2OjvovuLbO25lURI1gKrkZuyaH5KcJSk9CL23UjkxA7d7kJhtm-QLm/s400/P1040438.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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Fishing must be good on the Chehalis. there are two more of these nests (active) within 3 miles of my house. And I once lost one of my Koi to an Osprey, really, I saw it happen.</div>
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The rest of the ride was uneventful and soon enough we were back at Rocky Acres where Mrs. Dr C had a nice spread of cheddar and crackers, an array of drinks and raspberries fresh from the garden with short cake and whipped cream.</div>
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So no ride stats, not stories of epic suffering, just a mellow ride report - imeasurably better than being cloistered in the office cube.</div>
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Thanks Brian and John for the fellowship.</div>
Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-17590836348687355132017-07-06T14:49:00.000-07:002017-07-06T14:49:24.756-07:00<h2 style="text-align: justify;">
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The Next Phase </h2>
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From this </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqmTJLsI63IOc_Y9R1BG2e2putIp0c3cfKOh4K06v3CPWKmkXF3uyVr0eF2ZG0VvxBvRsXOyk6H-lXHM1vC4f1Y5sYOmRf4B-b3IVjvf2T3QGBVd3nbCUHZn90qBPWzmlcj7znAMcyUmf/s1600/P1040252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJqmTJLsI63IOc_Y9R1BG2e2putIp0c3cfKOh4K06v3CPWKmkXF3uyVr0eF2ZG0VvxBvRsXOyk6H-lXHM1vC4f1Y5sYOmRf4B-b3IVjvf2T3QGBVd3nbCUHZn90qBPWzmlcj7znAMcyUmf/s400/P1040252.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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To this, in 8 days.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdhiwL5nSlrrxfoktsbG81bVaF4jhlddHbkhK3UQjji7tgUjEJdoR_TERLhDiISmQtZREdRWFABw6wjyKVnRPh7KA-hbdzviw8fEhPU4cjlZ8LVIuSuDd6A5bTDBpm9HQGny83u9cX-Ww/s1600/P1040335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCSYMQDAd3qOf1JcFa0wNOQHrvcz2iR7ZIqAzf0mMxboTzo_HdUVOfrwAgUFxSmGMcGdSU2RUe0wvRl07ZA5BPcKUglkQfKhZ-m0xUFpEh8XIWGM4jwRboZy257cEJIfO5sP1QLHsVSpz/s1600/P1040340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCSYMQDAd3qOf1JcFa0wNOQHrvcz2iR7ZIqAzf0mMxboTzo_HdUVOfrwAgUFxSmGMcGdSU2RUe0wvRl07ZA5BPcKUglkQfKhZ-m0xUFpEh8XIWGM4jwRboZy257cEJIfO5sP1QLHsVSpz/s400/P1040340.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdhiwL5nSlrrxfoktsbG81bVaF4jhlddHbkhK3UQjji7tgUjEJdoR_TERLhDiISmQtZREdRWFABw6wjyKVnRPh7KA-hbdzviw8fEhPU4cjlZ8LVIuSuDd6A5bTDBpm9HQGny83u9cX-Ww/s1600/P1040335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdhiwL5nSlrrxfoktsbG81bVaF4jhlddHbkhK3UQjji7tgUjEJdoR_TERLhDiISmQtZREdRWFABw6wjyKVnRPh7KA-hbdzviw8fEhPU4cjlZ8LVIuSuDd6A5bTDBpm9HQGny83u9cX-Ww/s400/P1040335.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yes the little chick is now fully fledged (hard to believe). He runs around on the dish towel like a little mouse looking for some place to hide. Apparently he has not yet figured out the utility of wings. Any day now.</div>
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Meanwhile big chick is out in the world and not looking back. He has not been back in the nest box since he 'flew the coop' on the 4rth of July. Today was a 'day in the sun' kind of day.</div>
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Mom taking a bath</div>
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Uncle Oliver feeding big chick </div>
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Junior (the dad) feeding big chick </div>
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big chick munching on the Honeysuckle blooms </div>
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and finally, big chick eating from the seed tray (I think [s]he is going to be fine)</div>
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-14650088610074725682017-07-05T21:45:00.000-07:002017-07-05T21:45:40.531-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Up, Up, and .... Oops!</h2>
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It was the 4th of July, we were out on the patio chatting after a nice little holiday BBQ with my son Gunnar and his girlfriend. Gunnar looked over my shoulder and said, "oh look, there is one of your parakeets in the window!" I turned to look and who was sitting in the window, looking out on the world but the yellow chick!</div>
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Frequently we take the flight cage into the guest bedroom, drape everything with drop cloths and old sheets and turn the birds loose so that they can have a couple days to get some real flying time. </div>
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I knew the yellow chick must be getting close to 'stretching her wings' but never thought she would have the strength or mind to exit the cage and fly across a room to join the adults. That's a pretty big first step and it's not supposed to work that way according to the books I have read. I guess the keets have not been reading the right books. Later we had the chicks and nest box out for their close up exam and the yellow chick quickly flew from my hand to crash into the kitchen window, fluttering harmlessly into the kitchen sink. There's flying and there's learning to fly. </div>
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Tonight when we came home from work the yellow chick was out in the cage (we moved them back into the living room where they normally reside). She became agitated when we came into the living room and crashed around the cage, 'landing' alternately in the water dish, clinging to the bars, or flopping on the bottom of the cage. By the end of the evening she seems to have come to grips with the fact that we are going to be coexisting in the same room and learned to settle on the perches. The adults were ravenous for their evening feeding, the hen feeding the little chick still confined to the nest box. I think the adult male was feeding the yellow chick.</div>
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We will be intently watching to see that both chicks are getting enough to eat.</div>
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In other news, Chairman Meow, the exiled ruler took a turn for the worse over the weekend. By Sunday night he wasn't walking much and when he was, it was with a medley of both hissing and crying, a sure sign that he was in severe pain and also that he demanded a wide berth. I tried gently to palpate his right hind leg and he attempted (not so gently) to amputate my left forearm. He's a 'difficult' patient. OK, well now we know were it hurts.</div>
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So Monday morning we went for a ride to see the vet (where he has quite a rep). The doc said she could see that he was obviously in pain and that she would have to put him under to get a closer look. This is something of a routine with him, or it was in his younger 'fighting' days.</div>
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She would need to give him a shot in the butt (this would be exciting). They have a male vet tech who looks like the enforcer around the place. He came in wearing a pair of gloves that belong in a steel foundry, with a very thick towel. I told the guy he better get a good grip, he looked confident. When the vet poked him in the rear Chairman exploded, vocally and with what seemed like six legs and 38 claws. Rocko looked stunned, and of course Chairman demonstrated a few of the moves that earned him all those ear scars. When it was all over the doc had been able to administer the injection, Chairman was on the floor, eyes big a saucers, hissing like an anaconda, and four humans were backed up against the walls in varying degrees of terror. The doc and the bouncer left the room and Mrs. Dr C and I waited and watched as Chairman fought his demons to try to keep from drifting off.</div>
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When he was pretty far gone I gave him a good ear scratching and some comfort petting and gently lifted him to the exam table and on to the big thick towel. He was compliant. A few minutes later his head hit the table, nose first. I gently rolled him onto his side, and with his last vaguely waking breath he gave me a low growl as if to say, "I'd bite you if only my mouth would work." love sometimes has a funny look. </div>
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After a thorough exam and X-rays the doc was able to determine that it wasn't an abscessed bite wound (something we have seen all tooo frequently), no fractures, but probably his arthritis giving him trouble. He has two lumbar vertebrae which are nearly fused together, NEVER pet this cat much past the rib cage. The X-rays also show the early stages of arthritis in his hip and knee joint. He and I seem to be headed down the same path. Let me tell you about his fall from the neighbor's big fir tree some day.</div>
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Mrs. Dr. C picked him up after work and by the time they got home he was dancing around the place like a teenager. The pain meds they gave him are a narcotic derivative. He didn't act drugged in any way but it was clear that he was feeling no pain, literally. </div>
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Perhaps I need to check myself in to the vet clinic for a shot in the butt. </div>
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-30049905938939444782017-06-28T20:48:00.001-07:002017-06-28T20:48:50.691-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Teal over Yellow</h2>
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Tonight we noticed that little bird is developing some dark green or teal in his wings, had not noticed this before today. He's also going to have that iridescent green tail that the male has.<br />
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A nice look but of course who knows how this little bird will look in a couple more weeks. <br />
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Big birds wings are all feathered out.<br />
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This is the typical look we get when we first open the nest box.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipBRUCaAl5mE1RIuWyuFb_Ko-8YpXwBlPQ1HmQ5hHr9TU_M-hLFITYoRZPLgP7R34EiBue6MS1ylZgw2uV2eSvZ62X_DK5yBmyum_R72WRoLSHGCPaKIrvh9wwgoj24r-nBEFKdrnp-0OZ/s1600/20170628_201054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipBRUCaAl5mE1RIuWyuFb_Ko-8YpXwBlPQ1HmQ5hHr9TU_M-hLFITYoRZPLgP7R34EiBue6MS1ylZgw2uV2eSvZ62X_DK5yBmyum_R72WRoLSHGCPaKIrvh9wwgoj24r-nBEFKdrnp-0OZ/s400/20170628_201054.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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When we 'put them to bed', rather than depositing them in the nest box, tonight I put them right at the threshold to see if they would walk in. Little bird is not there yet so I had to deposit him which is complicated by the fact that he really hangs on with his little fishhook claws. This necessitates gently disentangling him. not easy with two human size hands and a delicate chick crowding the nest box. Big brother on the other hand knew what to do, he climbed in under his own power and scrambled for the farthest corner of the nest box. Another example of this amazingly fast development.<br />
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<br />Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-43131779034348356582017-06-27T21:30:00.001-07:002017-06-27T21:53:10.664-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
More Normal Behavior</h2>
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During our chick check tonight it seems that the chicks are maturing to the point that they are starting to exhibit more 'normal' behavior. When I check on them, I take the nest box from the flight cage and get things ready on the counter for them before I open up the nest box. In the past they just huddled there looking at the big monsters who suddenly appear. Tonight, little chick headed for the farthest corner of the nest box pronto! and the bigger chick went running after. </div>
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Perching! (and eying that ugly black camera)</div>
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You can see in this pic that the wing primaries appear to be coming in white, this could be a very pretty bird. Scroll down to the post on the 25th (just two days ago). Can you see how much this little bird has grown in such a short amount of time? </div>
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Precarious Perching</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVpfpKJSG8hTatSuzmqPnWhU9IUWOwLnIB3Pw4qwd2H0HOFbv7hKbZBZS0V1G2g2xoKEB_l3kTjq2G7f90zRzarnSE9M1UswyL-e-kTuF3huEmMohiWVAtKsmep7E2mJWSbumKJFF_pSZ/s1600/P1040264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVpfpKJSG8hTatSuzmqPnWhU9IUWOwLnIB3Pw4qwd2H0HOFbv7hKbZBZS0V1G2g2xoKEB_l3kTjq2G7f90zRzarnSE9M1UswyL-e-kTuF3huEmMohiWVAtKsmep7E2mJWSbumKJFF_pSZ/s400/P1040264.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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If they seem precarious or at risk of falling in the photos I assure you it is anything but. These little birds have the grip of an Osprey, and the talons to match. Balance is another matter however so I am careful not to make any sudden movements that might cause them to go head over handlebars so to speak. </div>
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When I raise them up and down rapidly they instinctively spread their wings to 'fly' on the down stroke. It won't be long before they are flying.<br />
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-75499323079032100832017-06-26T21:35:00.000-07:002017-06-27T21:09:48.843-07:00<h2>
What a Difference ...</h2>
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Well OK it is only a day since the last pics and you may not see much difference, but here at Rocky Acres it is striking. It is clear that the older of the two chicks is going to be, well YELLOW! Enlarge this pic and you will get a better sense of just how screaming yellow zonkers this bird is in person.<br />
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But more than just that the development seems to be coming along. M one concern is that this chick does not stand on his feet very much. He can perch (really has the grip) but out of the nest box he seems to spend more time on his breast than I remember the chicks in the last clutch doing. <br />
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Chick #2 is doing her best to play catch up, though she is more fuzz ball than bird. As I see the feathers starting to develop I am starting to think that this chick too will be a yellow bird. But see how this one is standing on open feet.<br />
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That's your chick pix for tonight. </div>
Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-25445099982849445792017-06-25T21:41:00.001-07:002017-06-25T21:41:47.125-07:00Growing like weeds, and seemingly with no problems. It is amazing to me that these little birds grow so fast, but how they grow is even more fascinating. Think about how much energy it would take to grow enough feathers to completely cover your body. <br />
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Learning to perch. There is nothing to perch on in the nest box but so far they seem to be getting the hang of it. <br />
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This little bird is actually much more brightly colored than this picture suggests. as Almost iridescent. </div>
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It is not easy at this point to get a feel for what the little one will look like when he is grown. One nice thing: we won't have to wait long to find out. <br />
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That's your chick pics fix for the night. Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-8644314441439565002017-06-21T22:55:00.002-07:002017-06-21T22:58:16.613-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Unplanned Parenthood</h2>
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There is a story behind these pics, there's always a story isn't there? Anyway the short version is we were not planning to raise more parakeets (just like we never planned to raise the first clutch, or to even <em>have</em> parakeets in the first place). <br />
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But stuff happens, <em>life</em> happens so now we have two little chicks that are just now going from really ugly little quivering pieces of chicken skin to something cute and fuzzy - looking like tweedy bird with heads, eyes and feet too big for their little bodies. I am always amazed at how fast these helpless little creatures develop. Click on the pictures to embiggen them, you will see they are approaching the cute threshold. <br />
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The nice thing is they seem to be making it on their own, or I should say making it without any need of assistance from us. This hen is not plucking feathers out of the chicks and their crops are usually bulging when we take them out of the nest box to check on their development. Both have that eagle claw grip and the little one is just now developing the strength to hold his head up, that adds bonus points on the cuteness scale.<br />
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We are down to three adults in the cage now, and they are various shades of green, nice but sort of boring. It is too early to say with confidence but it appears that the little bird may turn out blue, like the matriarch of the clan. We will know within a week, that's how fast these feathers come on. <br />
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Stay tuned.Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-41426278286701279212016-11-26T10:49:00.000-08:002016-11-26T10:49:13.643-08:00ThankfulIt is that time of year when we traditionally consider giving thanks. Thanksgiving comes to mind but of course the tradition of giving thanks for a bountiful harvest goes back in time. The Greeks the Romans, the ancient Chinese and Hebrews all had or have similar traditions. <br />
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Here at Rocky Acres we have much to be thankful for. I started prepping for the big dinner early that morning. First I fed the keets, they got a little extra dose of seed. I tuned the radio to the local NPR station which plays jazz, they seem to be especially talkative when jazz in on. Next I fed Chairman, he seemed his normal not-so-thankful-self and to let me know that something more 'special' than dry cat food would be appreciated he planted himself squarely in the middle of the 'kitchen triangle' (you know, that space between the fridge, the sink and the stove) with his tail laid out as far as it would go. he wanted some ham lunchmeat of which the 'cupboard was bare'. I microwaved some bacon for him (and me) which was accepted.<br />
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I put out some extra seed for the wild birds, this being a particularly cold, wet and windy day of thanks. The ground feeders arrived quickly even though it was still pre-dawn gloamy. Once it was light, the doves arrived in several flights and then by ones and twos, till the feed trays were covered with gray birds.<br />
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As I was prepping the dough for the dinner rolls<br />
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I saw a flash out at the feeder and looked up to see the Cooper's hawk take one of the doves. I always feel bad when this happens but if you look at the numbers you realize that dove populations are in no danger. All the birds scatter when he comes but as soon as he has his prey on the ground the seed eaters immediately flock back to the feed tray. I guess it is like what happens after a cop pulls someone over on the freeway; Everybody seems to speed up, knowing the cop is busy. I guess even the Cooper's hawk has something to be thankful for just as the seed eaters do. <br />
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He came the next day but was unsuccessful. Here he is sitting on the fence contemplating. <br />
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I made a pumpkin cheesecake with gingersnap crust the day before, this is something of a new-ish tradition for us.<br />
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The rest was a dinner from the past. We had mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with brown sugar, the old standard green beans w/mushroom soup and fried onion topping, and of course a turkey. It all came out well, the turkey might have gone just a little longer in the oven, but was fine otherwise. I found a plastic packet in with the bird which turned out to be ready made gravy, something new to me. I gave it a shot and was very disappointed, tasted like Herb-Ox beef bullion with too much corn starch, it jelled almost to pudding consistency as it cooled, but made a good topic for jokes around the dinner table. <br />
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We hosted a couple and their son from our church who are serving as missionaries in China. They live in the very far west of China, in the Lisu Autonomous Prefecture among the Lisu people. This remote area is home to about one third of China's ethnic groups. She was born in China though not in this prefecture. <br />
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They are back here just now because he is suffering severe pain as a result of having several ruptured discs, something I can completely sympathize with. He is trying to get medical assistance through the VA and is not having much luck. Another data point on the spotty chart that is our patchwork health care 'system'.<br />
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So, this is a thankful time for us, which is a stark contrast to all the commercialism which seems to overtake every form or social media. It seems too easy to me to switch from thankful to buying, I wish there was more of a transition to help me focus on the notion that giving gifts could be connected with my thankfulness, a way of paying forward my good fortune.<br />
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Some time ago I came across this, the <a href="https://www.givingtuesday.org/">national day of giving</a>, actually it has gone global. Never mind that, the idea is that there are many ways to give something, to pay forward your good fortune. Do we need a special day for this? I don't know but if you do have a tradition of charity around this time of year, this day is a good reminder to uphold your tradition early so that it does not get overshadowed by the hectic commercial side of the season which looms ahead. <br />
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Thanks for reading. <br />
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Dr CPaul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-70398018337569763242016-11-17T23:00:00.001-08:002016-11-17T23:00:16.509-08:00UnseasonalOctober was one of the wettest on record here, November has been on and off but unseasonably mild. I won't say warm, but mild, as in no dramatic temperature plunges.<br />
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The pond water temp has stayed above 50 degrees much later than normal this year. 50 degrees is the break point for feeding the fish, or cutting them off. That usually comes around Halloween. I stopped feeding the a day or two before Halloween anyway, better a little early then to feed them too long.<br />
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The key to good fish health is pristine water conditions. Normally I clean the pond in late October or early November, and for a bunch of reasons (excuses) I missed that window this year. Though I have a filtration system, 'stuff' gets in the pond over the summer: needles, leaves, lots of dirt in the form of dust, and too, the filter doesn't remove all the fish poop, so 'mulm' (fish keeper speak for pond muck) forms in the bottom of the pond and it is the perfect medium for growing parasites and bacteria which can cause health problems for the fish.<br />
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So sending them off for their long winter sleep in pristine water is really important - they won't eat again until April and so will be weakened by the lack of food and dormancy in very cold water. In this condition they become vulnerable to parasites and bacteria. Worse, the 'bugs' tend to come out of their dormancy on the bottom of the pond before the fish do.<br />
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So I was feeling 'dirty pond water guilt' when there appeared last weekend a hole in the rainy weekend cycle, and I got an extra day off thanks to the veterans. I decided to take advantage of the circumstances to clean the pond, especially opportune given that the fish were still lively, it's a stressful process for them and best not undertaken after they have gone into their dormancy. <br />
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First we set up the quarantine or "Q" tank, and add an air pump to assure the water will be amply aerated when we move the fish in. If they were going to be in there for more than a couple days I would also install a filter. In this case it would be just an over night 'camp out' for them.<br />
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Next is to transfer the fish. <br />
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This entails capturing them in the big dip net, then sliding them into a 'sock net, then carrying them to the Q tank and releasing them. This is a process that cannot be hurried: start 'chasing' the fish around the pond and they all get very stressed, and progressively harder to catch. It all went pretty well, the last of the Koi was pretty spooked so I had to catch him after I had started to drain the pond. The last fish to be caught is always the big, black Chinese catfish. He is almost impossible to see (he's black, the pond liner is black and by the time I have the pond mostly drained, the water is filthy, black.<br />
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Then drain the pond, power wash it, and then drain that water out, and finally getting down in the pond and scooping out all the mulm.<br />
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It's a stinky, messy job and always reminds me why it is a good idea to clean the pond twice a year, spring and fall.<br />
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Then I refill the pond and add a chemical disinfectant, Potassium Permanganate and let that circulate through the pond overnight. This stuff does a good job of 'oxidizing' all the micro organisms in the pond that don't get removed in the cleaning. <br />
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Then next morning it is draining that mess out of the pond, scooping out any remaining messiness, and refilling the pond with clean water. Once the pond is refilled with clean water we again go through the process of transferring the fish. <br />
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I go to the trouble of measuring and recording the measurements of the fish when I do this. It is a good way to give them a close examination to assure that they don't have wounds or other problems and it is also nice to note their growth year over year.<br />
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Most of these fish started their time with us ranging from 6" to 10" in length. As you can see they have all grown quite a bit. (the grid on the bottom of the pond is 1"X1".<br />
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These last two little fish are comets, Japanese gold fish.</div>
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It's a big job and I usually prune the plants around the pond at the same time. <br />
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Mrs. Dr. C is always a great help. <br />
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Chairman Meow provides QC inspections.<br />
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and supervision from a distance when it starts to rain.</div>
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<br />Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-28105649242105460452016-11-13T15:01:00.001-08:002016-11-13T17:32:46.891-08:00There's No Place Like Home The Big Horse is off to the mechanics for a 'makeover', velo version (not extreme). Bikes never need work ... if you never ride them. Even though my mileage has dropped dramatically over the last couple years, things do wear and much of what needs fixed is the result of 'deferred maintenance'.<br />
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Winter in these part is hard on bikes. No salt on the roads but sodium chloride spray, sand and the regular road grime combine with rain water to create an effective grinding past for all the moving parts. Chains, chain rings, cassettes rims and hubs suffer the steady wear. On my bike the brake hoods are worn through and the bar tape is frayed. These were new when I had the bike built, that was before PBP '07 so new is in order. Spendy stuff but I'd say I got my money's worth. <br />
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The shifting is balky, it requires a forceful nudge to get the next gear. It works but you have to pay attention and that is not the way you want this business to work. A little extra squeeze of the fingers, a bit of extra attention, what's the big deal right? On a long ride you may shift gears hundreds of times. On a really long ride maybe even thousands of times, (SIR rides mean hills and for me, that means shifts). I have learned that over time little things can become big things, all the more so if it involves simple repetitive motions, like pedaling, or, ... shifting. A blister on your finger or cramps in the hands can take away from the fun and divert your attention from the business of getting to the next control or the finish.<br />
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You know, 'after' pictures are never as dramatic as 'before' pics and by themselves they really only tell half a story. <br />
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I admit it didn't occur to me that a bike overhaul would make much of a blog post. This says something about the scale of drama in my life. But when I saw the 'after' bike I was immediately overcome with a big silly kid grin so pictures seemed entirely appropriate, ... the age of social media and all. And really, you will never again see this cassette and this chain this clean <br />
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the pictures before we march off to war so to speak. </div>
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New jockey wheels </div>
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bar tape and hoods too</div>
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There were other tidbits, not very impressive visually, but it all adds to the bottom line and the improved performance. I did spin several laps up and down the lane just to see how it shifted, and braked. like new oddly enough.<br />
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I am a little concerned that 'stuff' can instill such an inner sense of well being. Does this mean I am a shallow person? Or have I become one of those people who thinks of his bike as a sentient being? I'm well on the way down that road, the machine does have a name, sort of.<br />
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Giving this some thought I have a couple justifications to offer:<br />
<ul>
<li>I have been a little blue since last Tuesday night, November 8th. Maybe this is just a bauble to distract me from the train wreck. There will be plenty of time for recrimination and soul searching in the future (four years anyway, ... oy!)</li>
<li>This bike has been with me on many memorable occasions, some epic successes (we'll always have Paris) and some unforgettable failures. Why not attach a degree of special meaning to its 'resurrection'? </li>
<li>This newly refurbished bike is a sort of reverse motivation for me, hello smile of irony. </li>
</ul>
So sure, a big smile and sense of well being is perhaps understandable. I guess we shall see how durable this newfound optimism is when I find myself pedaling out to the <a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz/the-bee-hive-restaurant-montesano">Beehive</a> for breakfast on some cold January morning. <br />
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I have always said the equipment has never held me back. Where others can honestly say that lighter gear or certain tires can shave time, I have always known that there are huge gains to be made for me just by working on the motor. This shiny newish toy motivates me, and that makes me smile. <br />
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Thanks Cory<br />
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<br />Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-90593028369461874632016-10-17T01:21:00.000-07:002016-10-17T01:21:16.376-07:00The Storm of the Centurywe got the tail end of Typhoon Songda this past weekend. It was supposed to produce sustained 60+ mile per hour winds, gusts to 70 and lots of rain. We don't often see Typhoons here in the North Pacific, they tend to go east or south of us. There was some wind, and some rain but nothing really to get excited about. I'm not saying there wasn't weather, there absolutely was, two tornados set down in Oregon, that too is very unusual for us, but no sense trying to dramatize a Chihuahua attack. <br />
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I feel sorry for the folks who lost property in the storm but oddly, I also feel a little sorry for the local weather men and women: We did get the gratuitous shot of the idiot weatherman standing out in the rain, leaning slightly into the wind but to tell truth, it was at best slightly entertaining and at worst well, pathetic. Let's face it, we get rain, and for a meteorologist it must be deadly boring to have to drone on, day after day; rain turning to showers with possible 'sunbreaks' in the afternoon - highs in the mid 50's, lows in the lower 40's.<br />
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So they can be excused for that lame imitation of the southern pros who have the drill down; Leaning into <em>real</em> hurricane force winds, gi-normous surf crashing over a battered seawall with palm trees whipping wildly back and forth in the background. <br />
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We get rain. October is early for a real storm out of the North Pacific, this was sort of a 'dry run' for what may be in store. Even year in late October I start thinking about getting through those November/December storms. Once we make it to January we are usually safe from flooding for another year.<br />
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By the way, sorry there are no dramatic pics, I would have had to travel in the rain for them and of course no guarantee that there would have been anything to get scared about. <br />
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-18854166817407949302016-10-10T01:35:00.000-07:002016-10-10T01:35:14.349-07:00Telling the Story According to Wikipedia: <br />
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<b>"Long-form journalism</b> is a branch of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journalism" title="Journalism">journalism</a> dedicated to longer articles with larger amounts of content.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Poynter_1-0"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long-form_journalism#cite_note-Poynter-1">[1]</a></sup> The length of long-form articles is between that of a traditional article and that of a <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Periodical" title="Periodical">periodical</a>.<sup class="noprint Inline-Template Template-Fact" style="white-space: nowrap;">[<i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Citation_needed" title="Wikipedia:Citation needed"><span title="This claim needs references to reliable sources. (January 2016)">citation needed</span></a></i>]</sup> Long-form articles often take the form of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creative_nonfiction" title="Creative nonfiction">creative nonfiction</a> or <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narrative_journalism" title="Narrative journalism">narrative journalism</a>."<br />
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There are some things, topics, stories, which just don't fit very well in a Facebook post, and don't even get me started on 140 characters. I know that blogging is so 'yesterday' but I still read blogs, I listen to NPR because I want to know more about current events than I can get in a 30 second 'story'. And too, I guess I am just wordy. My brother is a writer and a master at getting more mileage with fewer words, but he too is a story teller not a tweeter. <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
As some know, I am a hobby baker and in the last few years I have honed my craft in efforts to make 'authentic' sourdough French bread. I'm pretty happy with the bread I make but this is a lot like playing baseball in the world series: You can't rest on your laurels, there is another game the next day and you have to be on your game every game or, .... you fail. <br />
<br />
Another thing about SD French: this product only contains five ingredients, flour, water, sourdough yeast, a little oil and a pinch of salt. and like so many French food recipes it is technique more than anything which separates fabulous from failure. <br />
<br />
It takes a long time to produce a loaf of SD French. I usually start on Friday evening when I 'feed' my starter. Then on Saturday you mix the dough, and then start the bulk ferment, a process than can take form three to six hours. Then, it is into the 'bannetons' those little baskets that the loaf rises in for the final proofing. But that process takes place in a refrigerator, ... OVER NIGHT! OK, now we are on to Sunday and still no fragrant loaf stinking up the kitchen. So Sunday morn the loaf comes out of the fridge and the final rise begins,. This takes anywhere from one to several hours, while you preheat your oven in anticipation of sliding the loaf onto the 450 degree baking stone at just the right moment. Too soon and your loaf will split or crack wide open, too late and it will fall flat, looking lke a a ciabatta but very dense, heavy and flat like a ... cow pie.<br />
<br />
So, somewhere along the way I woke up to the fact that it was folly to spend all that time and only produce ONE loaf. It takes almost no additional time to produce two, or even three loaves. Not that we eat three loaves of bread, they get 'distributed' among the neighbors and co-workers. This is no great financial gift, remember what I said about the ingredients? There is probably not 15 cents worth of ingredients in a loaf of my SD French. But when I went from one to three loaves I decided that I needed to trade up from my dough whisk to a real mixer.<br />
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<br />
I picked up a beautiful (used) KitchenAid 6 quart mixer on Ebay. It wasn't cheap, but it made mixing a three loaf batch of bread dough a breeze. I could still only bake one loaf at a time but so far everything was working.<br />
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But here in America there is the relentless drive for bigger and better, and MORE. It may be my OCD tendencies but after a time of contentment I yearned for MORE! I reasoned that going from one to three loaves in a batch had worked pretty well, so why not double down? Why not make a six loaf batch of dough? This worked great in theory, but it turned out that there was no way my beautiful 6 quart mixer was able make such a batch of dough. I wound up making two separate batches of dough, one after the other. I did this for a while but lurking in the back of my mind was the notion that, 'if I only had a beefier mixer I could make all that dough in one batch and that would be a time saver. <br />
<br />
So for the last few years I have kept my eye out for a mixer that could handle the task. 'Just looking' I rationalized but as I kept on with my baking 'habit' I got more and more serious about a mixer big enough for the task. <br />
<br />
A couple months ago (August) I found a much bigger (20 Qt) commercial scale mixer at an unbelievable price. Some backing and forthing via email on the details and provenance of this mixer and one bright Saturday morning I was on the road to Newburg (A suburb of Portland OR) to check out a 'real' mixer. At first glance I will admit the size of the thing was intimidating, but also seductive. This thing was big, REALLY BIG! Very low hours was the claim and it looked like it had hardly been used and never used hardly. It sounded good running with no load. The more I fiddled with it the more it the more it seemed like it wasn't<i> that</i> much bigger than an 'normal' mixer. The seller had to do vey little selling, I sold myself on this thing.<br />
<br />
It sat on a wheeled cart and that was a good thing because when I rolled it out to the truck the cart was just about even with the tailgate, good thing also because there is no way I was going to be able to lift this thing. With a little Rube Goldberg/McGyver I was able to wrestle it into the middle of the truck bed. I tied it down as best I could and then took a step back and looked at it, The thing towered above the cab of the truck (Ford Ranger). It looked like King Kong lashed to the deck of a freighter ready to sail into NY Harbor. So heavy that it sat on the floor of the kitchen for two weeks <br />
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until I was able to secure a rolling cart capable of handing the beast. Neighbor Troy came over and helped me lift it onto the cart. <br />
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<br />
Sheesh it looked waaaay out of scale in the kitchen (had I made a stupid?)<br />
<br />
The timing wasn't great. In my world August is not a baking month, there are just too many things which call me to the great out doors. The test drive would have to wait. <br />
<br />
As I write I am half way through a four day weekend, the result of an unusual alignment of the stars, the planets, a federal holiday and my somewhat unconventional work schedule. And it just so happens that this has been a wet and chilly run of northwest weather which nature provides to soften us up for the brutal realities of November and December here in the great (WET) pacific northwest. In other words nearly perfect baking weather. <br />
<br />
I dumped the ingredients for a 6 loaf batch of dough into the bowl and the bottom of the dough hook was barely covered. I was seriously worried that this thing was indeed way too big for my purposes. But once I turned it on my mountain of ice cold fear melted into a puddle of warm satisfaction. The machine did it's job to perfection. A day later I had six nice loaves. Some to give and one to take to my old riding Buddy Brian's birthday bash. <br />
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(after gifting and pot-lucking - 4 loaves remain)</div>
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<br /></div>
It was a potluck so bread seemed like a good idea but just a plain loaf seemed a little underwhelming. Then at the last minute I had a lightening bolt idea: Warm garlic bread! I didn't really have time: to pull this off I would need to slice the loaf, mix up some garlic butter (real garlic, granules would never do) and somehow warm up the loaf before we arrived. I was able to slice the bread and mix and spread the garlic butter which I had nuked in the microwave. I stuck the loaf in the oven to warm but after getting my coat and preparing to leave I realized I'd need a half hour and it was time to go now. I removed the bread from the foil, rewrapped it in two layers of 'plastic film' then wrapped that in a dish towel and popped it into the microwave. I picked a power setting of 2 and set the timer for 2 minutes and ran off to put my shoes on. I came back shortly to see how this was progressing and ...FREAKED! In my haste I had set the microwave on HIGH for 20 minutes. Fortunately less than 2 minutes had transpired so I pulled the bread out, rolled back the dish towel and, gasped. The plastic film had shrunk down tightly around the loaf and the bread underneath looked soggy. YIKES! I quickly cut the plastic film off and replaced the aluminum foil, rewrapping the whole thing back in the dish towel. I wasn't hopeful but too late for plan B. At least one thing had gone right, it was warm!<br />
<br />
I should not have worried, when we got there I unwrapped the little bundle of garlic joy and plucked out a test slice. I anticipated an aerobic chewing exercise but it was ... PERFECT! Well perfect it you like your garlic bread with a little too much butter and a whole lot of garlic. It was well received by all who huddled in that chilly cooking shelter! What is it they say? Sometimes it is better to be lucky than good?<br />
<br />
I am blessed. <br />
<br />
Tell me this, could this possibly be boiled down to a FaceBook post? (I don't think so either)<br />
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<br />Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-53259132960453183302015-05-03T08:36:00.000-07:002015-05-03T08:37:02.055-07:00PBP - 2003<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>This is a PBP year and across the country Randonneurs are abuzz with the prospects and planning for the grand event in August. I won't be going to France this year but am getting something like a contact high just listening as people make their preparations, share information and work their ways through the qualifying brevets. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>Recently several people have asked about my previous PBP efforts. My '07 PBP ride report is buried in here somewhere but I don't think this, the report of my first try at PBP in 2003 isn't included.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;"> After that ride I was interviewed by a local newspaper reporter and I recall saying that I thought PBP was the most fun you could have on a bike. I still believe that, but it was for me, much more than just a long bike ride. If there is such a thing as a bucket list and you are a rider, this is such an event</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">.</span></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>Here then is what I wrote those many years ago:</em></span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></st1:place></st1:city></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></st1:place></st1:city></span> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Paris</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brest</st1:place></st1:city>
<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city> – Not so
Fast!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">PBP is a ride with great history, but more than that it is
an event, a touch point for randonneurs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At PBP, you not only ride with people from all over the world, you also
have a connection with the very earliest ‘hard men’, and women of cycling, you
participate in one of the seminal events in the world of cycling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">My ‘strategy’ for the 15<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> edition of PBP had
been all over the map since I committed to entering the event in the winter of
2002-3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had gotten swept up in the
“get a good time” motivation and so shaped my training early to be as fast
through the ride as I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As time
went on, the other side of my mind weighed in with the notion of trying to get
more out of this ride than a fast time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As my training progressed, the argument for this approach gained more
credence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, the difference
between my fastest possible time and just finishing under the wire might be a
total of 5 hours or so, and really, in comparison to the fastest times, it would
not make much difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But those
additional hours spent on the ride might allow me to gain more experiences, collect and
participate in more stories and actually bring home with me more of the real
trophies I was after, the stories, particularly if I wasn’t watching my time so
closely.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">So, in late spring I decided that my goals for the ride were
essentially two fold: I definitely wanted to finish within the allotted time
(90 hours for me); and I wanted to immerse myself in the experience as much as possible,
take pictures, meet and talk with people, and bring back more of the
experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please note, this is not an
indictment of those who choose to shoot for a fast time, hats off to them, I
just had a different motivation.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Waiting in the stadium for the start, the warm night air was
filled with a sense of excitement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the buzz of waiting riders, snatches of nervous laughter wafted across the crowd
and I was surrounded by conversations in many different languages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had not yet started and already I was
ticking off parts of my second goal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Before we left, Sheila, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city>,
and Cathi came into the stadium and found us, I was really glad for that, it
was obvious that once our flight rolled, there would be little possibility of
seeing us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At <st1:time hour="10" minute="0" w:st="on">10:00</st1:time> there was a roar out in front of the
stadium as the first wave rolled off into the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It sent chills up my spine.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I was in the last wave of riders to go out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in fact at the back of the last wave,
much closer to the last starter than the first starter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I checked my watch as I rolled across the
line, it was <st1:time hour="10" minute="50" w:st="on">10:50</st1:time>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They said this time would be considered at
the finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the start, people were
lining the streets clapping, cheering and actually treating us as though we
were heroes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smiles on their faces
gave the impression that it was as exciting for them as for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to admit, I got a little misty, the
enormity of all that went into this moment: my training, the support of all my
friends and teammates, the effort of the organizers and the incredible sense of
history that this ride evokes, it all go to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Uh, oh yeah, my thanks to God was mixed in there too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a sense of release, to finally be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> the event, no longer planning for,
preparing for, or qualifying for ot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m riding PBP!</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quickly the 500 or so in my ‘flight’ broke up
into smaller groups, as few as 10 or 15 and as many as 50 or 60.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the first 30 K or so, all the
intersections were managed by gendarmes, directing traffic, the lights and
signs were ignored and the cyclists, for the moment had the absolute right of
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Contrary to what I was used to at
home, motorists had their windows rolled down, and like the families on the
streets offered us cheers of support, “Allez PBP!”, “bon Route!”, and “bon
Courage!”</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">As we transitioned through the suburban areas and into the
farm country, riders grouped according to their paces, and conversations were
struck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rollers reminded us not to
go out too fast; there was plenty of challenge ahead, though it was hard to
keep the energy in check.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">This must be similar to what if felt like when the Roman
legions marched off to war centuries ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>All were filled with a sense of adventure and possibilities, what would
we look like on the return trip in four days time?</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I rode on and off with a young British rider, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Niles</st1:place></st1:city>, whom I had met the
day before on the train back to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Paris</st1:place></st1:city>
from St Quentin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had just had his
bike inspected and I was wearing my PBP T shirt, so we compared notes, like me,
he was a first timer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are the odds
that 24 hours later, riding among 4,000 participants he and I would randomly
connect on the route?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>PBP is like that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I had been concerned about the distance from the start to
the first control, a food stop actually, Mortagne Au Perche.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A distance of 141K, I was not sure if we would
be able to get water along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let
all know that getting water on this stretch is not a problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though there were almost no commercial
services available, many people along the route had set up tables and were
offering “l’eau”, and “café”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had not
brought along enough food however.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
should have packed a couple sandwiches; all I had were liquid nutrition and
energy bars.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">When we got into Mortagne, I took the time to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The line was not long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My riding partners had brought sandwiches so
I made quick work of a plate of pasta, and a bowl of rice pudding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Note to self; next time bring a sandwich or
other sufficient food for this leg from St Quentin to Mortagne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put a baguette in my jersey pocket for
later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the infamous Jambon et
Burre baguette, more on this little gem later. </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Villaines La Juhel (223K) was a festive scene, the town had
turned out for this in numbers and we received heroes’ cheers rolling in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was efficient in the control but once again
I ate a big meal: Pasta, mashed potatoes, a chicken breast, spinach and
bread.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a little concerned to be
eating so much, but my body was telling me to do so, as the ride went on, this
turned out to the right thing to do.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">At Fugeres (311K) I was feeling the effects of slight
dehydration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had debated about
bringing the camelback, but was glad I had, I just needed to be sure to go
through that and then to the bottles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Between Fougeres and Tinteniac (311) I bonked during the middle of the
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped at a park bench, in a
little village and ate a cliff bar and downed a bottle of Sustained Energy,
then got back on the bike, for a gradual recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was here that Charlene from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Canada</st1:place></st1:country-region> overtook
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We rode along together for a bit and
I wanted to ride with her but I knew better than to push the recovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew I’d get my legs back but I did not
want to put myself more into deficit, so let her go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered if we would see each other again.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I had a bad situation in Tinteniac (366K).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was very hot and late in the day, the sun
was low, almost blinding at times and I really wanted to get off the bike, cool
down, get a bit of a rest and get something to eat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traffic was bad, the turn into the control
was very busy and a little confused with just a couple too many control
helpers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Here I should note that I think
being part of the local organizing effort in the villages appears to be a bit
of an honor or a position of prestige.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throughout
the controles, you see lots of elderly ladies and gentlemen in official yellow
PBP event staff T-shirts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not all of
them appear to have an official function.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But you figure out very quickly “who’s who” when you ask a question or
find yourself in the wrong place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those
who don’t have any authority quickly direct you to those who do, or in some
cases you hear a referee whistle, that always gets every ones attention and
identifies persons of authority immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">My problem was a combination of poor management at the
control and flawed thinking that comes with the early onset of exhaustion and hunger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I turned into the control, I was directed
to the “run in chute”;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So far so
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a bit of confusion at
this point, lots of supporters and bystanders sort of clogging the way, and a
fellow in a yellow T-shirt was standing to one side holding up a strip of
flagging or what I call’ “crime scene tape” between two barriers and waving a
rider ahead of me through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thinking this
was the way to go I followed and was soon in the stream of riders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went through a couple commercial parking
lots and were quickly back on a street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At this point I got a little nervous, this didn’t seem right, most of
the controls are in a school or college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But back on the street, squinting into the sun I had to pay attention to
avoid getting run over or knocking someone down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mind went into high gear and erected a
plausible explanation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what the
brain does when it is not getting the required supply of glucose (my brain any
way): 10 cents worth of data and a million dollars worth of analysis will
usually support a flawed conclusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
tend to loose the big picture and get lost in the details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sort of reminiscent of my time in the 60’s
when there were other ‘distractions’ to play tricks on the mind. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps there was an accident or a bad traffic
situation they had routed us around and the control would be just ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">5K down the road when we passed the “Leaving Tinteniac” sign
I panicked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sprinted up to the rider
in front of me, a stylish Italian on a nice Pinerello and in my best American
pidgin, asked <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Controle Tinteniac ahead
or behind?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He gave me a look and jerked
his thumb to the rear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Major
bummer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On my way back to Tinteniac, I
passed Peg and Brian, my riding partners; they went on, as they should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In haste to get time back, I ate very little,
(jambon et burre, baguette) watered up and went out quickly (judgment<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>error #2). </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">The Jambon et burre is either a bane or a blessing depending
on the rider.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a small baguette with
thinly sliced ham, dressed only with butter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For me it was great, similar to my secret rando weapon back home; the
convenience store white bread sandwich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You know, Wonderbread, American cheese and some form of mystery
meat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others riding PBP didn’t find it
so wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to be careful
eating these. Too big a bite, not enough chew time, and the thing could swell up
in your throat like a big plug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A day
or so into the ride those of us of the Baguette league might be identified by a
prominent butter stain in the outside jersey pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Things were better once the sun went down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I elected to continue riding through dusk
before putting on my night gear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
still very warm and I had ridden through the previous night with shorts and
short sleeved jersey, putting on arm warmers just before dawn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was on with a mixed group of Danes and Brits,
I was some how able to keep their pace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Danes are very steady, and up till now most have been stronger
riders than me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt good, actually
thought I was perhaps getting stronger as the ride wore on (Me and Jan
Ulrich,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ja!)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">At the top of a long climb we pulled over to ‘dress
up’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just going dark, a beautiful
orange sky, another village on the crest of a ridge ahead was sky lighted, the
steeple of the church clearly standing out, a Kodak moment for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was packing disposable cameras and taking
pictures along the route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope they
turn out well, I struggled with the right camera system to take along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Riding into the dark I was buoyed at the
thought that Loudeac (452K) was my next stop, and I would have a chance to
shower change and get a couple hours sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">In the villages we passed through there was a festive
atmosphere, kids were shouting encouragement, the folks lining the streets were
standing or sitting on chairs they brought out and clapping, just clapping and
smiling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People hung out the windows of
upper floor apartments shouting encouragement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Water and coffee were offered at every corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the smaller villages, locals were out in
the roundabouts warning us of the rough pave’, or directing motor traffic to
allow us to ride through without interruption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Clearly, PBP was a part of their fabric of life, a season or event they
looked forward to, and I felt honored and humbled at the same time to be the
recipient of their warm affection and encouragement, to be just a little part
of this very big thing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">At about <st1:time hour="23" minute="0" w:st="on">11:00 pm</st1:time>,
approximately 24 hours after my start, I was riding alone, through a long
stretch of farm and wood land.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
far distance I could see taillights and what looked like headlights
approaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they drew nearer I could
see that this was not a car but a pace line of riders, the first
returnees!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They came fast and steady, most
wore clear plastic capes or Assos jackets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Each was back lit by the rider behind and the jackets diffused the
light, making them glow, they appeared as ghosts out of the mists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a stunning vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were riding a perfect paceline; fast,
efficient, and silent, just the sound of gears turning over and heavy breathing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After 24 hours of riding, I had covered
approximately 400K, and they were over 800K into the ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truly amazing, these were the riders who
people came out to see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They deserved
the adulation; they would not be stopping for café or pane au chocolat.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I stopped at a farm lot and had café and plums fresh from
the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The coffee was good (no milk
though).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They spoke no English, and I
spoke less French however we were able to exchange pleasantries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In French, a woman of my age asked the
distance to Loudeac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Young Jean the farm
boy volunteered that it was approximately 14K.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew better and by showing him my que sheet, he was able to see that
his village, Illefaut was actually more like 40K from Loudeac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was excited to recognize his village name
listed on the que sheet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was feeling
weary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rolled off to the next quiet
spot I could find and sat down against a wall for a 5 minute rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before sleeping, I downed about a half a
flask of hammer gel espresso.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I figured,
leaning up against a rough stone wall I could not sleep long but was worried none the
less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What seemed less than a minute
later I awoke with a start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I
focused my eyes I could se that I had slept for 15 minutes!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was surprised that the time went by so
quickly, but the coffee and gel were doing the job, and now I was anxious to
get back on the bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Funny the effect
caffeine has on my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things just
seem so much better, I am more optimistic. It really is a drug.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Soon a fast group of Americans (the ones who talk the
loudest) came along and I hooked on with them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were flying, maybe 25 KPH, I was not sure
I could hang with them but figured if I could, I’d save some time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bit later we passed Terry Z and Bob
Brudvik.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew they were SIR riders,
fenders and mudflaps!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were morning
starters so had covered the distance in about half the time I had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They hooked on for the run into Loudeac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt great and finished to Loudeac with flair
…. and a sweat!</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Cathi, Dan and Nancy were there at the finish to cheer me (I
was really surprised) and it was a good thing, finding my way to the lodging
would have been near impossible on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cathi motor paced me the 3K to the sleeping quarters.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">These quarters were not what was promised by Claus, it was
difficult but I just made do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A shower
and a sandwich (Thanks so much <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Tracy</st1:place></st1:city>!)
and off to sleep in a bunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In no time
at all I was up and rolling again with Brian and Peg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was still dark and we were on our way to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brest</st1:place></st1:city>, it was cold and
damp out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Figure 2 to 3 hours sleep.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">They say PBP does not really start until Loudeac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had this built up in my mind as the hardest
part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More climbs, more intense climbs,
and still going away from the finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While it may be the more punishing segment, I also think it is the most
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here you are deep into <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brittany</st1:place></st1:state>, and you see
some of the unique character of the region.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>From the graffiti (‘Liberez Jose’, and Liberte’, Equalite’, et Fraternite’?’’),
and home made monuments to independence you can see that there is a deep seated
independence here and a degree of resentment toward the Republic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The architecture and cathedrals also show
more of a Spanish or Moorish influence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was nice to climb into forests, with lakes and streams, the country
here was really beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m more
comfortable with trees and forests than endless farm country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">We were quickly into Carhaix (529K).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a beautiful town, I expected the
control to be more crowded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out of the
night clothes, a quick bite and we were away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The climb to Le Roc was great, I stopped to help Peter Beeson tighten up
his light, rode with lots of people along these climbs, at a more sociable
pace, but still, I felt I was actually getting stronger. </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">The descent to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brest</st1:place></st1:city>
(615K) was enormous, we kept descending and by this time I almost disliked
descents, knowing that the end of every descent means the start of another
climb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brest</st1:place></st1:city> was crowded and I was very hot, even
though I was wearing my sleeveless jersey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I saw Homey here and he had a long face on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He explained he had a couple broken spokes
and the wheel had been sitting at the mechanic’s for an hour already.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to do something but could think of
nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to be quick but still
we spent a little time there. Peg got a quick nap and Brian really wanted to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had another big meal, and to quote my
favorite stock picker, Ms Martha, “it was a good thing”.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Climbing out of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Brest</st1:place></st1:city>
was not as bad as I had feared though the traffic in the town was a
bother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rode with an Englishmen who
explained some of the traffic customs in Europe. He said that in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">England</st1:place></st1:country-region>, lights
and signs were mandatory, as they are in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> they are advisory, thus no citations
for running a red light, but have an accident and you pay dearly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Italy</st1:place></st1:country-region> he said, the lights are purely
for decoration, they just love the blinking colors, but have no effect on
driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(He said it, not me). </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I climbed most of the way to Le Roc with Peg, but in the
last few K I could not keep with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
the top I took yet more pictures and struck up a conversation with a local
farmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He explained that he made his
living raising between 50 and 100 beef cattle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Times for the beef industry in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region> are really rough (BSE) but
he showed the stiff upper lip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made a
point of showing off the pristine waters of the lakes and streams, the area is
some sort of nature preserve and he proudly proclaimed that the nuclear power
plant in the distance was shut down “fini” he said.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Brian caught me on the descent, we rode into Carhaix (696K)
together where we met up with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brian was tired and elected to take a nap
here, I was tired too but Peg was ready to go and I chose to ride with
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took off with Peter Beeson whom
we had passed, sleeping by the side of the road on the climb to Le Roc. </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">We rode off into the night with a large group of
Englishmen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went strong with them for
quite a way but they were too strong for us and soon we were on our own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stretches between Carhaix and Loudeac are
very dark (forest) and poorly signed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
were at times able to see taillights and follow them but the route makers were
not the best so we had to creep in parts of this section. On the outskirts of
Loudeac I bonked again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a jambon
et burre baguette in my bag so alternately choked that down while trying to push
through the hills in town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rolled up
to the controle about <st1:time hour="2" minute="0" w:st="on">2am</st1:time> I
think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peg had come back to look for me,
bless her heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was ok, just needed a
little more steam in the boiler to get to the finish.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">This time the digs were as Claus
had promised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cathy bucked my bag and
helped me find my room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My exhaustion
was reminiscent of my younger days as a fire fighter with the USFS; Too tired
really to make sensible decisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some
food and then a bath (no shower in the room). The bath was problematic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so exhausted I kept falling asleep, and
put off getting out for fear that I actually wouldn’t be able to get out of the
tub<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Then some random rearranging of my gear and I was in bed for
a couple hours of sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">3 hours later I was leaving Loudeac (773K).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peg and Brian had left a few minutes ahead of
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cathi helped me out the door of the
hotel, and stopped me as I started the wrong way!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This could have been disastrous and would be
significant later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought how
fortunate it was that she had taken the time to see me out of the garage door.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I started fast but realized it was very cold and I was very
stiff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I was going to catch Peg and
Brian it would probably not happen because I was going fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, PBP is in some ways a war of attrition,
and conservation of energy is a significant element in a success strategy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sort of like chess, you need to strategically
sacrifice your pawns to preserve the Queen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Imagine my surprise, an hour and a half later when Peg rode up behind
me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had left the hotel going the
wrong way!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five minutes later we rolled
up on Brian, WHO ALSO HAD LEFT THE HOTEL GOING THE WRONG WAY!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We probably rode together for 5 minutes when
on a climb I shifted off onto the bottom bracket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took me awhile to get untangled, a half
hour later I was up to Brian again who also was also having shifting problems,
Peg had gone ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We rode together for
awhile and discussed strategy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were
both suffering but knowing that we were two thirds of the way home, and with
every pedal stroke getting closer to the finish was real motivation.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Brian was trying to avoid using his little ring so I would
drop him on the climbs, this was unusual, normally he climbs away from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I chocked it up to his shifting problems and
the feeling that I was getting stronger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He caught on again and we compared notes, I dropped him on the next
climb and rolled into a secret control ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Peg was there, we talked briefly and she left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I waited a bit there but could spare no more
time, I never saw Brian again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">On this stretch from Loudeac to Tinteniac there was a
beautiful sunrise that put us through lots of little villages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we rolled through the towns, the smells from
the Patisseries were intoxicating!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
stopped for a croissant chocolat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exquisite,
fresh from the oven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not much for
sweets, especially in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
you told me I’d like bread and chocolate in the morning I would have scoffed,
but this is not Wonder bread and M&M’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is a good thing I don’t live in rural <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>, I’d probably weigh 450
pounds!</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Into Tinteniac (859K) was better this time, I felt strong
and confident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw Charlene from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Canada</st1:place></st1:country-region> here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was having trouble with her handlebar bag
and had devised a system for piling all her stuff (no mean feat) onto her rear
rack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her rear bag looked like the
empire state building after the holocaust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I gave her my spare water, offered a hand full of zip ties, wished her
luck and went on my way.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">It was here that I also saw John Little and Sarah
Galazan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sarah had been sick from the
start and I was very surprised to see her still in the game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave her encouragement, she seemed doubtful
but committed to taking it one control at a time which seemed to be working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I briefly thought back the months to the <st1:place w:st="on">Peninsula</st1:place> 600K we rode together to qualify for PBP.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were changed now, like battle worn
veterans, compared to young recruits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">366K to go is both intimidating and liberating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The finish is tantalizingly there in front of
you, but much like a mirage in the desert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You have to be careful, to get to the finish you still have to cross the
desert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this stage my mental defenses
go up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I get unstable, I actually
have balance problems off the bike deeper into these long rides, and the constant
vigilance that comes from knowing you are one foolish move, one second of
inattention from going down and prematurely ending your ride takes a toll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rode lots of this segment to Fugeres solo,
at times I hooked up with other solos, but much was on my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here I saw the old women of the farms tooling
into the towns on their bicycles, or on the way home with their baskets loaded
with produce and the ever present baguette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I passed up several photo ops of this scene and I regret it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not want to be the voyeuristic American
but really wanted documentation that this <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">France</st1:place></st1:country-region>, of rural stone cottages and
barns, religious monuments and mamare on her velo to and from the market really
does exist, it is not just a poster in a travel agents’ office.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I ate big again in Fougeres (914K).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a little time here, I went to the controle
office and checked with the computer for Brian,.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first I jumped for joy, as the fellow said
he had checked through Tinteniac, but a moment later he said he had made a
mistake and he was last checked through Loudeac.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a sinking feeling but knew not to
wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the cafeteria they had rice and
it was great with beef gravy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was hot
but I was buoyed with the notion that I was ticking off the miles. 311K to go
that was less than STP, no problem! (Obviously I’d had another cup of coffee!). </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">From Fugeres to Villaines La Juhel was a beautiful ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got into a rhythm, including the climbs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just monitored my HR and stayed hydrated
and picked off riders left and right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now you start to see people in bad shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bad limping pedal strokes, people struggling
to find a comfortable position on the saddle where there is no comfort, and
those with the beginnings of Schirmers neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A couple riders already sporting neck braces, reminded me that anything
can happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had developed a saddle
sore from sliding forward on the saddle, I stopped and made an adjustment to
see if I could get myself back on the saddle.</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">The little <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">village</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">La Hutte</st1:placename></st1:place> I think was
especially beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A large castle
above a river crossing below, a sharp turn onto the bridge and a wonderful ice
cream shop,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(got a pic here in front of
the cathedral).</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Into Villaines La Juhel (1002K) the town was rocking!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just getting dark and I knew I needed
to press on to Mortagne before I slept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
went to the computer after checking at the controle to learn what I could of
Brian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reported that “the rider Monsieur
List was fini, abandoned”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hit me
hard; I sat down, had a Perrier and cried for a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">At the cafeteria I was treated like some sort of returning
war hero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was exhausted and a little
off balance, I’m sure they were probably thinking: “This one, should we allow
him to eat or send him to the infirmary?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I got to the food line just as the day shift volunteers were being
fed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No problem I thought, but a little
old man comes running through the crowd and insists, “Ah non, monsieur, you
must go to the head of the line!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
whisks me ahead of the workers in their yellow shirts, carries my tray for me,
gets me soup, won’t give me the tray but insists I go through the line picking
the entrees I desire while he loads them onto the tray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then leads me to the cashier, where I
pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once paid, the cashier motions me
to stay and calls for little Claudette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A cute little school girl possible 12 or 13 comes up, gets my tray and
leads me to a seat in the cafeteria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She’s beaming in her new school dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Due to my fatigue, I am on the verge of tears. </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Is it the fatigue, or the poignancy of this moment, this
bridging of cultures?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve ridden my
bicycle right into a strange world that has existed for a very long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here I’m accepted as more than just a
stranger on a bicycle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m some sort of distant
kin, different but connected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s just
all so bound in tradition and honor that I feel a sense of duty to finish this
thing out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many people going out of
their way to help me achieve what I thought was a personal goal, but I am
learning, is really a small part of something much bigger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Fed and somewhat rested I’m back out to the bike and ready
to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The festive atmosphere, bright
lights and music entice me to stay, but it is late now and I need to press
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope to find a group to ride with.
Solo in the dark can be punishing when you are very tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I catch on with a small group of Americans, a
guy on a beautiful Rivendel, I stroke him about his bike hoping to get in his
good graces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just on the way out of town
I’m having trouble clipping in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last
street light and I have to decide if it’s good enough to go, or should I stop
and check this out in the light?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Caution wins out, </span>I elect
to stop, and it’s a good thing I did because my right cleat was loose, all
three screws are still there so I get it as close to aligned as possible and
tighten it down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watch as the
taillights disappear into the dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
uphill; I have no power to catch back on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">As I start up the hill into the dark, I hear another group
coming behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the language and the
softness of the voices I can tell they are Italians or Spaniards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are generally not too receptive to solo
riders, but they tolerate me as long as I stay at the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think they actually appreciate my light, a Schmidt
E6.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re good riders but deign to put
anything extraneous on their bikes and so ride with what I think is poor
lighting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the back there are a few
other Americans and some Brits as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Spaniards take the lead in double pace line and lead straight as
arrows and just at the upper limits of the pace I can sustain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think if I can keep with these guys the
ride to Mortagne should go well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
only 165K but lots of climbing and lots of riding through the country in the dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m able to ride with them and again feeling
like I’m actually getting stronger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
only concern is that when they bark out their commands I really don’t know what
to do so I’m pretty vigilant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stop at
one point for one of their riders who has dropped his chain, I go up the road
half a kilometer to stay out of the way, one of the Brits goes with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stop to wait and I comment on their
beautiful riding and he says they are great to ride with so long as you don’t
try to pull at the front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know what
that’s about from my Team Fish days at STP.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>At one point in one of the villages we miss a turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stopping at a roundabout, there is much
discussion back and forth and three riders go out three different routes as the
rest of us wait.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In three minutes time
they are all back and we know which way to go, excellent team work!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We steam through climbs and rip through the
chicanes in the villages; these are the tricky parts, riding a pack on these
narrow streets with brief stretches of cobble and roundabouts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Locals are there even at the late hour to
direct us and the traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one point
we overtake a solo rider who upon figuring out what’s up, speeds ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can tell by the leaning tower of pizza on
her rear rack that it is Charlene.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
scoots ahead, and is off the front, but the pack is relentless in its steady progression
and 10 minutes later we are on her again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As they say at Microsoft, resistance is futile!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The groupetto slides smoothly to her left and
as we pass, I say hi, just to let her know I’m in this group.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>10 minutes later she motors up along side and
we climb together through the mountains with the help of the Spaniards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">We enter a deserted little village and, just on the way out
of town we come to an abrupt echelon left stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is a small brasserie, Choki, and it’s clear that these guys have
been here before and this is an obligatory stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fine with me, a coffee, or a wine or whatever
works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have coffee, Charlene gets a
frommage sandwich and lays down out side in the street (there are lots of
riders lying in the street).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Spaniards crowd the bar and boisterously go for the wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finish my coffee and am antsy, more so for
the coffee, but I really am enjoying riding with these guys. The atmosphere
here is great, camaraderie among the nations!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Wandering out from the back of the pub comes one of my team mates, Ray
McFall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looks like death warmed over,
but upon seeing a friendly face he lights up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was tired when he rolled in and, seeing this, the proprietor took him
aside and said there is a cot in the back, go lay down and we’ll wake you in an
hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s ready to go and wants me to
go with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I explain the situation but
he really wants to go and I know he’s a strong rider so take my chances with
Ray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We catch some taillights going out
and are on our way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon we are on top of
a broad high plain, there is a bone white crescent moon hanging low in the
sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is an incredibly beautiful night
for riding. Ray and I trade pulls with a guy on a recumbent and in no time at
all we are rolling into Mortagne (1084K).</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">We agree to eat, sleep for an hour in the gym and meet back
at the bikes at <st1:time hour="18" minute="0" w:st="on">6:00</st1:time>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After eating (more rice pudding, yum!) I go
to the gym, tell them my wake up time and am escorted to a mattress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lay down thinking, I’m probably not going
to get much sleep out of concern for being late, but a few moments later, a
woman is shaking me awake from a deep sleep to say it’s time for me to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m up and about ready to go but suddenly
there is an undeniable urge to visit the toilette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>10 minutes and about 10 pounds later I’m
really ready to ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ray is
righting his bike and says he was just getting ready to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ask for time for a cup of coffee, and he
says take your time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get a great
cuppa, and then we are away just as it is getting light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No need for reflective gear I think, the
control gives me a side long glance as we are going out but I shrug and point
to the east where the sun will soon be over the horizon, he smiles and waves me
through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">It’s really cold and coming out of Mortagne (1082K) there is
a lot of descending over rough roads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
we are headed down we hear a siren in the distance and Ray says “gee, I wonder
what that’s for”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can mean only one
thing, rider down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as we are going
out of the town and the hill drops sharply there is the ambulance in the middle
of the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suggest to Ray that he
mark the time:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we are held up along the
route for emergencies, there is the possibility to add the time back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the dim morning mist I can make out the
rider, sprawled lifeless on the rough pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are covering him up with a blanket and preparing to load him onto a
gurney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s not moving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rethink my strategy for making up time by
bombing the descents into Nogent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a
horrible way to end your ride. </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I’m in that state
where I can see how far I have to go, and I can see how much time I have, but
my mind is incapable of that complicated mathematical equation: distance
divided by time, to come up with rate (or is it the other way around?) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I call my reptile brain state.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more I struggle with this, the more I get
worried, and so arrive at the conclusion that, in order to get to Nogent within
the time limit I just need to go “fast as hell”!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I settle back and watch my HR,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can keep from blowing by keeping it at or under 25KPH.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel so strong, and am going so well, I
really am at the point of believing, absent catastrophe, I’m going to finish
this thing!</span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">About half way into Nogent I warm up, and strip off the long
sleeve jersey and leg warmers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun
is up and my brain has warmed enough that I realize I have plenty of time to
get to Nogent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I throttle back and watch
the scenery slide by as the sun rises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Riders look punished, but most have that look of confidence. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">About 10K out of Nogent I role up on Charlene again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s looking a bit haggard, says she’s having
digestion problems.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I offer a cliff bar
and she perks up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rather than dig
through the handle bar bag on the roll I suggest we pull over, I also have a
banana and offer that which she attacks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She gets it about half way down and takes on that green bloom that can
mean only one thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I immediately move
off a step or two thinking I really don’t want any part of this banana back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This makes her laugh, but she keeps it down
and a few minutes later we are rolling into Nogent (1167K)!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a real sense of elation here, a
party atmosphere!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I try to find a phone
and am offered a cell phone from other SIR riders, I call Cathi’s number and ask
her to let Sheila know I’m going to make it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I wanted to wait for Ron since he got me to Mortagne, as I
do, more SIR riders come in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We agree to
all ride in together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I probably should
have just left, I was ready, and they wanted to eat and I am sure I was a pain
with my ‘hurry up lets go’ chant. But it all worked out, we came in as a group
supporting one of the riders who was having stomach trouble. </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">It was a wonderful experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
only scratched the surface with this description.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have tons of other vignettes to relate, and
I plan to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll probably get sick of
hearing them, if so, do let me know. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Before I went to France I wondered how Americans would be received. I must say, a hard as George junior has tried to much up relations, the real international relations, person to person are in great shape. The French, in fact all the people I met were gracious, wonderful, inviting folks. I only hope I was as good an ambassador as they.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-60359781023342198032014-04-27T19:45:00.000-07:002014-04-27T19:45:00.489-07:00Spring-ish<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There
is a day on the calendar posted here in my office that says “First Day of
Spring.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like that because it is a
scientifically defined point in time, not generally subject to the whims of
strong argument or fashion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the
better that it was first documented by ‘primitive’ people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This equinox thing has been around a long
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We had
a mild winter compared to many of you but even so, this year (as with most) the
first day of spring felt about the same as the day before which just happened
to be the last day of winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
difference was on the calendar, not on the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made a note of it in my pen-and-ink-one-point-oh journal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Today
however, some five weeks later is decidedly spring like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“rain, showers, T-showers, sunbreaks, the full
range of meteorologist-speak for grab your raincoat if you’re walking down to
the post office and back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So I have
been playing tag with the showers: out to mess with the fish in the pond, back
in, then out to add a little more seed to the feeder then back in and so on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That kind of day when I’d just get out there and
weed the beds in a hoody if I was feeling particularly good, or stick with inside
projects if I was feeling puny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a
little in between (nursing a sinus infection) so doing the in-between.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gives me a chance to catch up here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When I
left off we had four parakeet teenagers heading to the vet for their pre-adoption
physicals. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m happy to say they all
passed their physicals with flying colors, literally.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chick #1 escaped w/in the exam room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once everyone settled down we just let her
fly a bit until as expected, she landed on the cage trying to get back in with her
sibs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They taught me a neat capture
trick:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get ready to grasp the bird, you
know, get as close as you can before the bird flies in fear, and then have your
assistant flip off the lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
dark the bird will freeze in place and never see the big scary hand of capture
closing in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve employed that
technique a time or two since to get them back into their cage.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I guess
that is a bit of a giveaway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve had
no takers and our four teens have morphed into young adults.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been enormous fun watching them grow, they
have progressed through the awkward phase, they now routinely make good two
point landings, they have become very acrobatic and spend long parts of each
day playing with and exploring new ways to play with the toys we put in the cage.
We change up the toys about every two weeks, they are never bored. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It
turns out that three of the chicks are males and #1 is the lone hen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will remember she had a rough start with
her mother plucking lots of her feathers out before we really knew what was
going on. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know if it is genetic or
learned behavior, but of the four chicks, she’s the most aggressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pecks the others, runs every one around except
…. The mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Billie Holliday, aka
Sapphire definitely rules the roost as the saying goes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think she must have irritable bowel
syndrome or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took the
longest time before we could re-integrate her into the big cage,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was just so hard on the chicks when they
were juvies, but now that they have matured they can get out of her way and
even stand up to her on occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But mostly
it’s an un-uneasy truce in the cage, none of the birds mess with her, and Kermit
aka Emerald dotes on here, they groom each other exclusively (who can explain
love?). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But it
has not been all inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have been
a few ‘sucker hole’s, my friend Brian’s term for </span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">patches
of bright spring sunshine that come crashing through the clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been out I the yard and down the road on
the bike. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently
I was out for the classic spring morning ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The day unfolded as predicted; it was cloudy and cool early but
manageable with a long sleeve wool jersey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I might have appreciated tights instead of shorts and possibly a wind
vest, but hey, they don’t call me the Arctic Codfish for nothing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I
headed out the South Bank road and pushed hard enough to generate a little body
heat at the start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were all the
harbingers of spring: calves and kids, the Ospreys on their nests, rhodies in
riotous color, the fruit trees a little more elegant in their show of pastels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even a honey bee or two.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">They were having the annual oyster feed at the Sharon Grange</span>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All you can eat oysters draws a crowd in these parts!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
bike is due for an overhaul; chain, cogs, maybe chain rings, and probably a
couple cables, but even so, everything worked as it should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a mellow, no drama ride and traffic
was negligible, that’s one of the things I most like about riding in my
neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of our county roads
are low traffic affairs routes, a few farm trucks hauling out the last of the
hay bales before the grazers move on to green pasture exclusively, and not a
lot else.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
typically blustery weather has kept the birds coming to the feeders, including
the spring migrators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The band tailed
pigeons are here in force and colder and wetter than normal weather has kept
them closer a little longer than normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve had a few people ask questions like: Aren’t you worried that they
won’t go away?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s because people confuse
them with rock doves, imports from Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The band tailed pigeon is a new world bird, larger and much more wild than
rock doves, these birds migrate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
birds we see are on their way north from a sunny winter in California.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll spend the summer in the forests of Washington
and British Columbia, and then head back south when it starts getting cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But while they are here, the feed bill goes
up, and the doves and other smaller seed eaters have to wait their turn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Something
unusual happened yesterday: The Coopers hawk dropped in for brunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just happened to be at the sink and caught
this frantic flash of birds scattering, the hawk flashed by and coming up empty
he returned to one of the oaks above the feeder to skulk and preen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We saw him here a lot over the winter, usually
by this time if year he’s off to the fields.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally,
the reason I have not been on here much is that I have taken a tumble down the
staircase of communication technology. As some of you know I have reawakened an
interest in fountain pens, and so I’m spending a lot of my time writing, with
centuries old technology: pen, ink, and paper 1.0.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of journaling, a few letters and some
short fiction vignettes. There is something therapeutic about this kind of
writing, with no delete or back keys, I find I spend more time composing before
writing than I do at the keyboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh
sure, Blogging has a therapeutic effect also, but different. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The weather
man says temps in the high 70’s and low 80’s next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May is bicycle commute month, perhaps I’ll
get some therapeutic saddle time in on the way to and from work. </span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</span><br />
<h2>
</h2>
Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-72523863391163124002014-03-06T07:58:00.000-08:002014-03-06T07:58:15.678-08:00Well Baby Check upOK, here we go off to the vet's for a well baby, pre-adoption physical check up. Oh yes, we'll also be posting the first of the Amazing Parakeets for Sale poster. <br />
<br />
Wish us luck!<br />
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-68425372263009806172014-03-01T10:12:00.001-08:002014-03-01T10:12:22.363-08:00Change<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gbO2_077ixs&feature=kp">Change goan come</a><br />
If you don't remember this, you missed something amazing and transformational. Not to put you down if you weren't there or don't recall the emergence of a new social consciousness in R&B of that time, but just a chance to say I am so glad this happened in my life time. I have trouble imagining a future where Justin Bieber's catalog could stand up to the likes of Sam Cook, Curtis Mayfield, or Marvin Gaye. (what's goin on, yo?)<br />
<br />
But this post wasn't intended to be a tribute to a time in my past. I sat down here at the dope scope to inform you all that a plan is hatched! Next week I'll take the four chicks to the vet's office for our well baby check up, sports physical, or whatever you want to call it. The thinking is that if these chicks are accompanied by a 'cetificate of OKness' from a real vetrinarian it might make potential adopters a little more comfortable in the notion that they are not getting puppy mill chicks. At least that is my hope, plus I am curious to get the Vet's feedback on our little accidental family rearing project. <br />
<br />
While there I'll leave a flyer (invited to by the clinic manager!!) announcing the availability of some particularly 'special' parakeet chicks. The vet shop add was a great suggestion from my friends at Budgarigar Forum. That flyer will also announce that all proceeds will be donated to <a href="http://www.fhswildliferehab.org/index.html">For Heaven's Sake</a> wildlife rescue and rehabiltation center. This was a suggestion from my friend Emily in Boston. <br />
<br />
Interesting that For Heaven's Sake is just up the road from us and I drive past twice a day to and from work. They were recommended as a worthy recipient for this effort by the vet clinic manager. <br />
<br />
In this way we hope to hit a slightly modified triple bottom line: helping a good but needy social enterprise, doing good locally, and most important getting the chicks into the homes of people who will provide the best setting possible. I'm no bleeding heart, but I am liberal and I know that for organizations such as For Heaven's Sake, making ends meet is a constant struggle; occasionally I work with SE's as part of my job. <br />
<br />
for the flyer, what Pics do you think would be most compelling:<br />
<br />
baby pics?<br />
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juvenile pics?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SWg1S7ntnIBEg-p5gF9X7JiChMwKLkf9JfuLaitzrI3WzNDUE4D7bUTXbRkXBKQc2Xq_G-GVF5zqB-u_8SPaCRLETDxrpat5S88RdK4eiQNF5kj1apTdDY4QEbcCJt9tzl_0oBTL1K6Z/s1600/P1130012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SWg1S7ntnIBEg-p5gF9X7JiChMwKLkf9JfuLaitzrI3WzNDUE4D7bUTXbRkXBKQc2Xq_G-GVF5zqB-u_8SPaCRLETDxrpat5S88RdK4eiQNF5kj1apTdDY4QEbcCJt9tzl_0oBTL1K6Z/s1600/P1130012.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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or adolescent pics?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVclczVTzE4Yiz8obFrShKdI4sXXe06OXiDbMcyzO4FIprFGr00Np2EGrO_0k64L1FQo07dhc2HJtkS_aGR0k6WCfkJa2UGbCSZSvkwcBoV-wYYoj2Anp72-Gup7E8GMj3GAR2p-_0gOF/s1600/P2280008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVclczVTzE4Yiz8obFrShKdI4sXXe06OXiDbMcyzO4FIprFGr00Np2EGrO_0k64L1FQo07dhc2HJtkS_aGR0k6WCfkJa2UGbCSZSvkwcBoV-wYYoj2Anp72-Gup7E8GMj3GAR2p-_0gOF/s1600/P2280008.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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(I would put up a poll on this but, ... 3 responses from you slackers on the last one? ... doesn't seem to be your cup of tea.)</div>
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And just to close the loop (good authors often end with a 'hook' which brings the reader back to the start of the story) let's have Curtis Mayfield take us out with a funky, modern day spiritual from the golden age of R&B shall we? <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOXmaSCt4ZE&feature=kp">People Get Ready</a> ...</div>
Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-20064866099032224792014-02-19T23:13:00.000-08:002014-02-19T23:39:57.387-08:00Chicks Seeking ...<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I am
working up that Craig’s List add and well, … I'm rethinking the first
line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I have some trepidation
about this approach, at least as a first effort at ‘re-homing’ the chicks as
they call it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not to say that you don’t
meet just the nicest people on Craig’s List (so I’ve heard) but these are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">special</i> chicks and we definitely do want
the nicest people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Clearly, this is a situation to consult with my friends over at the <a href="http://budgerigarsforum.proboards.com/">Budgerigar’s Forum </a>with a few questions about how this is best
done, and any other advice they have about what might be good to do in the
process. They came up with a Smashing good idea! (many are British, thus the
‘Smashing’ adjective).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their idea: start
with a ‘chicks for sale’ note at the Vetrinarian’s office!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What could be more perfect? ('more' perfect? sure, there is perfect and <em>more</em> perfect)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The vet knows us, and she knows our birds and
well, where better to look for good homes for animals than at the office of a
respected avian veterinarian? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We also have
a long standing relationship with another vet clinic between Olympia and
Shelton (where Chairman Meow has made quite a reputation for himself) and I’m
thinking we might prevail upon them with a similar request for assistance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hey, it’s the least they could do for us;
with Chairman’s poor record in the Greater Oakville Neighborhood Cat Fight
Invitationals every fall/winter/spring/summer, I think we have earned naming
rights for the next wing when they add on to the clinic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t expect this transition to occur
overnight, and these little birds are really not much of an imposition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are patient and willing to wait for the
‘right’ sort of people to come along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
worse comes to worse, we can always wait till summer and take them out to the
Capitol Forest and leave them by the side of the road; a proven method of
assuring placement in the very best, caring homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me ask
you a question:</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
Do you think
we should offer these birds for ‘free to good home” or do you think we should
charge, perhaps slightly less than the going rate, say, $25.00?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ask because I fear that ‘free birds’ might
attract someone on a lark (pardon the pun) whereas if we charge a small amount
(and perhaps even forgive the price if we like </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">who shows up at the door) we are
more likely to get these birds into homes that really want parakeets and have a
good idea of what they </span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">are signing up for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ll add a
poll over to the right on the 'Gizmo' column, (if I can figure out how to do it, Blogger does not make these things idiot proof .... I'm proof) and ask that you respond. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">And if
YOU have any great ideas about how we more our little parrots along to the great homes please, and I
mean this most fervently, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">PLEASE</i> let
us hear from you in the comments section of this little tabloid. </span><br />
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-41487182907880449392014-02-17T21:52:00.000-08:002014-02-17T21:52:28.081-08:00UnnervingThere are some situations which rattle your confidence. When you were a kid they scared the hell out of you, but as you get older, more mature, you collect a few scars and it takes a little more to shake you.<br />
<br />
We were flooded in 2007. We had lived here less than a year and flooding was not on our minds when we bought this place. We just saw a nice new house out in the country with a lot of what we wanted.<br />
<br />
Our flood risk is normally highest in the transition from fall to winter, usually around November and early December. We get big wet storms sweeping in off the north pacific. They slam into the front range of the Cascades and depending upon the temperature they dump feet of snow, or inches of rain. Eventually it all comes down the rivers to the sea. It becomes a problem when it all tries to come to the ocean at once. <br />
<br />
This makes me nervous:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldI7uOGH-yE9JepHorFqelvbG_CPOP6cQvj_IVzhcw5xGmPOK5aZBWMdesYhx6S8-crbndoNtJrJN6LS9RWuG_M3LW5jY9isPpVI0trNenXjO2jfxXAL-Zn6zM9OQ_49Cv9dydZ5DENSU/s1600/Flood.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgldI7uOGH-yE9JepHorFqelvbG_CPOP6cQvj_IVzhcw5xGmPOK5aZBWMdesYhx6S8-crbndoNtJrJN6LS9RWuG_M3LW5jY9isPpVI0trNenXjO2jfxXAL-Zn6zM9OQ_49Cv9dydZ5DENSU/s1600/Flood.png" height="248" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE
FLOOD WARNING CONTINUES FOR </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE CHEHALIS RIVER AT PORTER </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">FROM 8 AM TUESDAY UNTIL FRIDAY MORNING. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">AT<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> 3</span>:45 PM MONDAY THE STAGE WAS 19.7
FEET. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">FLOOD STAGE IS 21.0 FEET. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">MINOR FLOODING IS FORECAST. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
FORECAST...THE RIVER WILL RISE ABOVE FLOOD STAGE AROUND 8 AM </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">TUESDAY AND CREST NEAR 21.8 FEET AROUND 10 AM
WEDNESDAY. THE RIVER </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">WILL FALL BELOW FLOOD STAGE THURSDAY NIGHT. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">*
IMPACT...AT 21.0 FEET...THE CHEHALIS RIVER IN GRAYS HARBOR WILL F</span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">LOOD LOW PASTURE LANDS AND SOME ROADS. HIGH
TIDAL LEVELS AT </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ABERDEEN WILL WORSEN FLOODING ALONG THE LOWER
REACHES.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
Porter is down river from us, 8 miles as the crow flies, so by the time the river crests in Porter we should have seen the worst of it, though the curve suggests a pretty slow fall. <br />
<br />
Flood stage at Porter is 21 feet, we are having minor flooding now: We've got water in the ditches and Elma Gate Road is flooded between here and Rochester. There's water over the road where our street meets Elma Gate RD. It is unnerving.<br />
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Our house to the right, neighbors to the left</div>
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this morning at 7:00am</div>
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It's like standing next to a ferocious tiger in a steel cage. You know as long as nothing goes wrong you are safe to stand there, but one slip up and you are toast, or an <span class="st"><strong>Hors</strong> d'oeuvre as the </span>case may be. </div>
<br />
In this case we won't suffer any teminal maulings, however if our friends at the National Weater Service misplaced a decimal point, or if the North Pacific blesses us with a little more 'drought relief' than she currently is promising, we coud have some serious trouble very quickly. For the sake of everyone I would gladly share some of this with my pals in SoCal.<br />
<br />
But that's not what you tuned in for, you want news (and pictures!) of parakeets, and we have both in full measure.<br />
<br />
So funny, I sat down to the dope scope on Monday the 10th to say what a shock it was that I had not made a blog post in a WEEK! I had actually started typing, ... and then that pesky rabbit 'life' went hopping by; of course I got up to give chase, and here I am, back in front of the 'confuser' in just about the same situation, only a week and some days later. How <em>does</em> that happen? <br />
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From left: #1, #4, #2, #3, Billie, and Kermit </div>
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So here is the news with the little birds. Chick #1 turned 8 weeks old on Saturday just passed! <br />
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birthday bird, all feathers, no bald spot! </div>
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sleepy birthday bird</div>
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We had a big party! Lots of millet spray, a big cake with birdseed frosting, and a salad with all the favorite ingredients; grated carrot, chopped broccolli and corn, heavy on the diced, boiled egg. What a blowout! Once eveyone settled down we gently broke the news that this meant that chick #1 was now officially eleigible for ... adoption. the rest of the chicks will pass the 8 weeks milestone in the next seven days. </div>
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Olive (#3) the would be gymnast - teasing a cranky Billie Holiday</div>
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easy there mommy dearest!</div>
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neener, neener, neener</div>
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no telling what this means</div>
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(tell me I'm not cute!)</div>
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They're big now! Looking at them they are hard to discern by size from the adults. And they do all the adult things now; They talk (but not nearly so much as Papa), they bicker and play fight with each other, they fly pretty well, and they all sleep purched as high as they can get in the cage. But they still do lots of juvenile stuff too: Lots of 'three point' landings (that beak is awfully handy) they hang upside down alot, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not so much.<br />
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(#4, nap time)</div>
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(#2, the blue-est of the bunch)</div>
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So I am crafting that Craigs list add now, also cooking up some cute 3X5 cards for the store and post office BB's. I know I am going to hate to see them go, but I also know I am going to be happy to see them go. It's the handoff that is going to be a challenge. Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-59836590487250517552014-02-04T18:33:00.000-08:002014-02-04T18:33:32.416-08:00Young Adults<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">When you
were old enough to leave home, did you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was easier to go off into the world for my generation; you could find
a job that would support you, and you could find a place to live which you could
afford on your modest wages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These days
it is much harder to ‘launch’.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">L to R: #4, #1, #2, #3 (I think)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our little
birds are almost there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Early this
morning I took the sleepy little birds from their cage and put them in the
“weigh in” bowl (the bottom half of our salad spinner) and weighed each of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>they’ve spent the last couple days feeding
themselves without any help from their parents or us and they are holding their
weight and seem to be thriving in the cage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are still a little goofy at getting around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They need to perfect their roosting
procedures, I have had to ‘reposition’ #3 and #4 on a couple of occasions at bed time I found
them roosting on the rim of the water dish, their little butts and tails dragging in the
water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Then </span>there are the
occasional crash landings and “oops I'm upside down on the perch” scenarios but I
am confident they will overcome these minor difficulties with time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Will Rogers once famously said “Good
judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that come from bad judgment”.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">#1 is six
weeks and three days old today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span># 4 is one week younger, #2, and #3 </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">are of course, in between.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
books say that it’s best to keep them with the parents until they are about 8
weeks old, or a couple weeks after they are weaned, that they will learn a lot
about how to eat and care for themselves from the adults.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had them in with the adults a couple times
in the last two weeks and I was not real impressed with the ‘learning’ that was
going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lessons all seemed a
little harsh, and it appears that they are gaining plenty of ‘social skills’
living with their siblings. Admittedly I am a rookie at this and I am not
around them all day every day, but I like what I see and I have trouble
imagining how our preparations might come up short for them in the next
stages of their lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Given that, there does not seem to be a lot of
reason not to gin up that funny, charming, attractive add to go in Crag’s list
and up on the notice boards at the pet stores, post offices, and supermarkets announcing
the availability of four cute little green birds, dripping with character looking for new
homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">We'll keep the lid on this for another week and a half, and for #1's 8 week birthday celebration, we will put up the notices. </span></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t want
get all gushy, but the truth is these little tweets have grown on us both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In some ways I am glad it only takes about
eight weeks to go from egg to bird.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
it was six months I would probably have a lot more trouble turning loose of
them.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the meantime, we will watch them mature, and make further attempts at taming them. They should be prime catches by the middle of the month.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m thinking
of writing a brief bio to send with each of the birds to their new homes. The folks who get these little birds need to have some sort of provenance, to know their 'background'. It seems all the more important when I consider how little we know about Billy Holidays’ 'roots'. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am sure it
will be a little hard so see them go, but we will do the best we can to place them in homes with as much or
more love as they g</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">et here.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Chick #1</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-45855405960940096162014-02-02T22:14:00.002-08:002014-02-02T22:17:07.671-08:00Who ARE You ...?And what have you done with my cute little parakeet chicks?<br />
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Hard to believe it has been a week since my last post. I think a week in parakeet years, especially adolescent parakeet years is like decades for us. Last weekend was how to take a bath day. As you can see they learned that lesson well:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Brave and adventurous #1. The only way this bird could be wetter is if she were bigger.</span></div>
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Mr Greenburg lost interest in feeding the chicks once they were able to fly up in the cage. They would beg him for food and for awhile he would just try to avoid them. Eventually he began to peck them, to chase them off. We decided if he could not be part of the solution, we would not allow him to remain in the cage and be the source of a problem. So he was sent 'down to the minors' (to the travel cage in the back bedroom with Billie Holliday). </div>
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And that is when it became much more fun to have these four little birds. </div>
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Granted we were still hand feeding them morning and night but they were at peace with each other in the flight cage and gave endless entertainment learning to fly, (more so learning to land!) nose diving into the feed trays and hanging upside down from the perches and figuring out how to extract themselves from their predicaments. It is easy to see why so many keet keepers have a cage with a bunch of birds. No worries, we will find homes for these chicks, but even so, they are fun to have at this stage. Getting ready for move day, we are trying an experiment this weekend:</div>
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We have turned them loose in the 'flight room' (our spare bedroom draped almost completely in drop cloths) along with the adults to see if they can be weaned. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(chairman wanted to help with the 'experiment' too)</span></div>
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We weigh them every morning and every evening. The usually loose a gram or two in weight overnight, so we hand feed them in the morning, and then again before bedtime. They have steadily gained weight day over day but in the last few days they seem to be evening out. They would normally be weaned from parental feeding at about this time naturally, but with both parents out of the picture it is hard for us to determine when we should stop hand feeding them. You would think it's just a matter of them no longer being interested in the baby formula. But those cute videos you see on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xbY1zmKBMU">YouTube</a> of the chicks gobbling up the formula proffered via the eye dropper of syringe, ...? Well that is not quite how it goes around here.</div>
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Our chicks are still fairly wild and very much afraid of humans. We have started employing the typical taming activities. These duties have fallen to Mrs Dr C, I think she does not mind too much (BTW, keet cudlers wanted, enquire within!).</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I want to EAT you!</span></div>
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So far so good. They don't seem to have lost weight over the last couple days without hand feeding, we'll know for sure tomorrow morning. I won't miss those early mornings of feeding the chicks and having them spray it all over the kitchen. Well, in some ways I will miss it. </div>
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These family times have brought out Billie Holliday's dark side. <br />
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Any time any of the chicks land or are otherwise within her reach she lashes out at them with that strong, sharp beak of hers (don't ask me how I know how strong and sharp it is!) And she does not let up until they fly, or fall or otherwise get out of her reach. Mommy dearest indeed.<br />
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The rest of her time she is obsessed with trying to get into the nest box. I have it sealed up and I should have removed it but I need to solder up a patch for the hole I made to mount it. This is no surprise, less than five minutes after we put Mr G in with her they were 'doing it' so I imagine she feels some urgency to nest. We watch for eggs on the cage floor and if and when they appear we will remove them. We don't plan to raise any more chicks, especially not with her as the mother. <br />
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And what else does a rabid Seahawks fan do to while away the hours leading up to the big game? Bake bread of course! I was not too pleased with my loaves a couple weeks ago, so I wanted to give it another try. They look good on the outsidem, but I give this stuff away so I always rely on my 'customers' to give me honest feedback in terms of taste, texture, crumb, all that bakers jazz.<br />
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By the way, for those of you who have been jonesing for a Keet post here is a little tip from Blogger land:</div>
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If you look in the lower right margin of the front page, you will see a gadget called Followers. Click there and join and you will get an automatic notice whenever there is a new blog post. (I'd do that myself, but I have an uncanny knowknack for knowing when a new post is going to show up (donlt ask, trade secret) And don't worry, the NSA will not come knocking, but you may end up on the "Affiliates with Dr Codfish" list.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lhV7eGGT5TWet5QimfWQYniCQvzsj_zWvm2ng0XuULw2zGKfIZ49wK2Oq0EEjCpnhf-KIKKzOYhcHExsmJcoGG9gvYmvpwlOdtl6uw2ulcWv2G-uHqkIO9tJ1RYBCTCQZco-7mO2iuQA/s1600/P2020005+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6lhV7eGGT5TWet5QimfWQYniCQvzsj_zWvm2ng0XuULw2zGKfIZ49wK2Oq0EEjCpnhf-KIKKzOYhcHExsmJcoGG9gvYmvpwlOdtl6uw2ulcWv2G-uHqkIO9tJ1RYBCTCQZco-7mO2iuQA/s1600/P2020005+(2).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-43371992763680852612014-01-27T00:20:00.002-08:002014-01-27T00:33:45.364-08:00A Couple Days Later...Because I thought you might be having chick pic with drawals:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajZ_V6usCZVy8KdQ7Zpx7weOAoq_fSjXzu3dJmEEfQJZGIwXvIV-BxWSDaU0c-whp38F2BsAm1YiOHZUn-gjy5UMYjnekt9xHh8PAIc1E89q5cYJUPofgvPpWZrs41Nn5K93XIz4GwZX0/s1600/P1260015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajZ_V6usCZVy8KdQ7Zpx7weOAoq_fSjXzu3dJmEEfQJZGIwXvIV-BxWSDaU0c-whp38F2BsAm1YiOHZUn-gjy5UMYjnekt9xHh8PAIc1E89q5cYJUPofgvPpWZrs41Nn5K93XIz4GwZX0/s1600/P1260015.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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look how nicely #1's feathers are growing in! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHavPpv3-MDtnPUgZcp6Y6kiaJfT0BpkBytL8DtgN3NNebEcoQeK71GLVJ5lOEfc4BYHKGsb3pF2B9uUTw_4hKg79mnURs4WBWONkt0OSAbK9QlySamzmpn22pQxYAm8CU7CX9wv_Q1cpG/s1600/P1260004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHavPpv3-MDtnPUgZcp6Y6kiaJfT0BpkBytL8DtgN3NNebEcoQeK71GLVJ5lOEfc4BYHKGsb3pF2B9uUTw_4hKg79mnURs4WBWONkt0OSAbK9QlySamzmpn22pQxYAm8CU7CX9wv_Q1cpG/s1600/P1260004.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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#2 preening</div>
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Dad in the middle</div>
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#1 and #2 are buddies now </div>
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Friday was 'how to take a bath' lesson day</div>
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How it's done</div>
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#1 either trying to figure how to get in the pool, or trying to avoid the spray</div>
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OK, everybody in the pool</div>
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then comes drying in the sun</div>
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Ummm, ... nothing like a nice clean parakeet </div>
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do you detect a color theme here?</div>
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I <em>AM</em> smiling!</div>
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#3 and #4 are bunk buddies too</div>
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It was a beautiful day to be at the ocean in January</div>
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Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2264095833827785600.post-52400491609592906472014-01-24T07:22:00.000-08:002014-01-24T07:22:30.043-08:00There is Always Something(s)<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Since we re-organized the
parakeet cage (just last weekend) things go something like this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">First thing in the morning
Chick #1 flies up to the upper part of the cage and continually chases Mr
Greenburg around begging (quite loudly) for a meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIki4_ivYvG0i1uLI-hO9xtYRN8tkkxk-b6hCRdRJvIPKmVvrP0ZYslM1U0fisoQkMevqbVg9HVY60RWj1mpqFDZ4YYX8l_dvCfvflTFw-9vfj9012q7bKkcuBgtQmqLk9P4wtfMaz2ClS/s1600/P1230007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIki4_ivYvG0i1uLI-hO9xtYRN8tkkxk-b6hCRdRJvIPKmVvrP0ZYslM1U0fisoQkMevqbVg9HVY60RWj1mpqFDZ4YYX8l_dvCfvflTFw-9vfj9012q7bKkcuBgtQmqLk9P4wtfMaz2ClS/s1600/P1230007.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He alternately avoids her, and feeds
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s not eating his ‘salad’ as he
did before this extreme makeover which concerns me: I want him eating more so
he can feed more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When chick #1 flies up
in the cage, chick #2 hops up on the low perch, just above the makeshift open
plastic nest box.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">During the day Mr. Greenburg
flies down to the makeshift nest box on the floor of the cage periodically to
feed the rest of the chicks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he
does so he is intercepted on the perch I set up just outside the new nest box (the
low perch) by chick #2, who begs him quite effectively for a feeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems that he rarely gets around to
feeding the two youngest chicks, #’s 3, and 4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These two chicks appear not to have figured out the trick to getting up
on the perch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This may be due to their
younger age and reduced development.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
any case, Mr Greenburg appears not to be feeding these two younger chicks
much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have placed a water dish and a
seed tray in the box easily reached by all the chicks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am happy to say I have seen chick #3
nibbling at the pellets in the seed tray, which is heartening. As I mentioned
earlier, we weigh each of them, morning and night and it appears that chicks #1
and #2 are gaining weight slightly while chicks 3 and 4 are not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or so it would be if we were not still
supplementing their nutrition via hand feeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have read that the process of
weaning from mash/parental food to solid food is a challenge and chicks can be
expected to lose up to 10% of their body weight during this transition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is just on the early side of time for the
chicks to start this process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
only seen chick #3 eating solid food, and he is really just nosing around the
feed tray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all seem interested in
pecking through the bedding.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In the evening, after we feed
and weigh the chicks I put them all back into the open nest box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chick #1 immediately flies up into the upper
reaches of the cage, and resumes pestering Mr Greenburg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chick #2 takes up her post on the low perch
and 3, and 4 stay dutifully on the box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
last two nights Chick #1 has been getting into the original high elevation nest
box to bed down for the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before I
go to bed, I retrieve her from her little hidey spot and place her back in the makeshift
nest box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have a little floor heater
under this box, but I still think they all benefit by having each other close
to huddle with for warmth overnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
birds don’t fly after dark so they are all together when I get up in the
morning. And the process as outlined repeats.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, we are concentrating on
keeping all the chicks well fed as they learn to eat solid food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the book, this should take a couple weeks,
so that by the time the chicks are six weeks old they should be well on the way
to eating solid food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really hope the
little ones have read this part of the book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hand feeding them is sort of fun, but it is also stressful, for the
chicks and for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it is a mess and
takes a fair amount of time as well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Figuring
out if they are able to sustain themselves on solid food will be a tricky
business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ll just monitor the use of
the pellets and seeds, and continue to weigh them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much they beg Mr Greenburg for food
should also be indicative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We won’t be
able to tell much by how interested they are (or aren’t in hand feeding because
they all fight and resist the hand feedings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>None of them likes to be restrained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I ‘burrito roll’ them in a warmed cotton wash cloth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have tried feeding them without any restraints
but it just does not work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe next
week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though they resist and struggle,
all of them eat once I get the formula in front of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I use a small syringe placed just a the
corners of their little mouths, and once the warm food begins to flow their
little beaks begin to nom, nom, nom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3
and 4 are the best eaters, #1 is the worst, but she is no shrinking violet, she
is amazingly strong and wrapping her up in a wash cloth is like trying to put a
hand full of bees in a jar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such strong
legs, and SHE*CAN*BITE! with her sharp little beak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shades of her mother, who is also a little
biting machine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have some concerns about
chick #3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though she is the biggest
eater, she does not perch well. At all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>she seems to have poor balance and is always very tippy on the perch,
rarely standing up she squats on the perch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She presents a wide stance and I worry that she may have a slight case of
splayed legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She walks fairly well so
I am hoping I am just overly concerned or that if she does have this problem
she will grow through it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We let her
ramble at feeding time; fortunately she does not yet know that she can fly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, OK that’s how it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>for
the last couple of days, but when I came home from work last night, chick #1 and chick
#2 were both up in the cage with Mr. Greenburg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisBaoKuzMlO5UDfiT0ihBvixRzABBbVCIlE5SwuOZdSGlzyxEe_R0CZbXyYRaC5QsVAO97QKYwwlkWIbtxqPCtSsTZPPe4_PmayTg46ZrnGiwJ4Mcz6ZKIUNROQftuzGQsRFrjhOcr0oG/s1600/P1230005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgisBaoKuzMlO5UDfiT0ihBvixRzABBbVCIlE5SwuOZdSGlzyxEe_R0CZbXyYRaC5QsVAO97QKYwwlkWIbtxqPCtSsTZPPe4_PmayTg46ZrnGiwJ4Mcz6ZKIUNROQftuzGQsRFrjhOcr0oG/s1600/P1230005.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I suppose that’s how it will be for the next little while. (emphasis on
little)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So that’s the scoop here at
Rocky Acres.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It was sunny when I got home from work yesteday so I took a few pics of the birds in direct sunlight. Enjoy: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoWni7fv3Rx2FAvrcubO_hXIK2s9RliI36lI6WcnMzCRpyFJXHR0_4vqbwfl-VaNKb6LbJtT8ZiXBxtA7J9HfitruZxQwMtfD5Je2tCqpJuWzruVr3PaRjbkCGgK9NOsqc74aY4adoTBa/s1600/P1230015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpoWni7fv3Rx2FAvrcubO_hXIK2s9RliI36lI6WcnMzCRpyFJXHR0_4vqbwfl-VaNKb6LbJtT8ZiXBxtA7J9HfitruZxQwMtfD5Je2tCqpJuWzruVr3PaRjbkCGgK9NOsqc74aY4adoTBa/s1600/P1230015.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Chick #4 </div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaXI-LhsYxKyenzXXIT8-h5glOcKx7q7QvqFUbUAdyDAbEzWZzzRiaM2G1ogyLV-2iPh8q6kR-2ksBDCrIJ35_B4Wvns2zw0IEeXFGOunYoynXGlt3_g0irq_vCaxbT_dfig8pPcU8Vbc/s1600/P1230035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaXI-LhsYxKyenzXXIT8-h5glOcKx7q7QvqFUbUAdyDAbEzWZzzRiaM2G1ogyLV-2iPh8q6kR-2ksBDCrIJ35_B4Wvns2zw0IEeXFGOunYoynXGlt3_g0irq_vCaxbT_dfig8pPcU8Vbc/s1600/P1230035.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Chick #3</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHT65W7lSpaeT24D8rGeRh4Epk6ZbuarkluBWTcxRRflzbDn9JSmKRbFPUI_cPNm00a1iaCzLXzQ_r5fx94C1nrAMJ6Rc_25HKvxh4tmhEAFe83Swjif3ibtgsTffRA8M077AVs6nH2cy/s1600/P1230033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHHT65W7lSpaeT24D8rGeRh4Epk6ZbuarkluBWTcxRRflzbDn9JSmKRbFPUI_cPNm00a1iaCzLXzQ_r5fx94C1nrAMJ6Rc_25HKvxh4tmhEAFe83Swjif3ibtgsTffRA8M077AVs6nH2cy/s1600/P1230033.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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#3 </div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinTAcCc7RhsEtz4BdVyzXdA56wgY0ISW8JuMMNoNFvNx8ZxOknv8olIsuc6js2k6dBfRT6dY1oc3IPqKTGtr-874zaqmz2aL1gPr-UmNom9F74FNSvLItRxFzfWsmmZ3GYZq7vFozMqycH/s1600/P1230027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinTAcCc7RhsEtz4BdVyzXdA56wgY0ISW8JuMMNoNFvNx8ZxOknv8olIsuc6js2k6dBfRT6dY1oc3IPqKTGtr-874zaqmz2aL1gPr-UmNom9F74FNSvLItRxFzfWsmmZ3GYZq7vFozMqycH/s1600/P1230027.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Chick #2<o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></div>
Paul Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06072480695472781764noreply@blogger.com0