The Halves and Half-Nots

           There is much to be said about the beauty of large birds. The Bald Eagle is even our national symbol. And there are hawks, owls, and falcons in my own neighborhood, since Rocklin, California is dotted with lovely wetlands.

          HOWEVER… these are predatory birds, and if you think they only eat mice and other pests, you would be wrong. They eat other birds!  Yes, that earns an exclamation mark because I was stunned when I learned this.

          In fact, if you type “large birds that will not eat other birds” into a search, you will not find anything. Just lists of the 30+ ones who do gobble up their kind.

          And, of course, they also eat rodents, which brings me to the hideous discovery I made in our back yard last week, when I saw a neighbor’s cat staring at our hammock.  On closer inspection, there was the top half of a BUNNY there! It had fallen from someone’s talons, just like the Norwegian rat that one of those winged gluttons dropped on our roof a couple of years ago.

          AND, one of them even tried to carry away our own little dog, a Chihuahua mix who was just small enough to tempt them.

          This is why I hate nature shows. Okay, first I love them because of the beauty of the sleek leopards, the swiftness of the gazelles, the agility of the Orca whales.  But TV producers cannot stop at this; they have to show you how the animals eat.  And it’s inevitably somebody else.

Don’t we have enough reality in our lives? Can’t we just pretend that everyone gets along, then goes home and slaps on an apron and bakes cookies?

 You could always post a link to a list of their favorite foods, so we don’t have to see the grizzly details. I’m just saying.

Hey, Christmas is coming, and my book, A Little Christmas Prayer, is the perfect inexpensive gift! Sometimes it takes a child to raise a village, and this tale teaches anyone, of any faith, the magic of gratitude. Available on Amazon. Other books and Youtube Mom videos can be found at jonihilton.com.

Raven Lunatic

         The other day I saw an online post that said, “The Difference Between Ravens and Cows.” 

          WHAT?  If you can’t tell the difference between a raven and a cow, you have more problems than not knowing the difference.
     

          And then, of course, I looked closer.  Yes, it had said ravens and crows. Oops.  I blame my eyesight. But, just in case I have piqued your interest, here is some information about these two birds.

          They’re hard to tell apart. Websites will tell you ravens have longer bristles atop their beaks.  I assume you need to gather both kinds, pull out a tape measure, and hope they hold still for your analysis.

          But ravens are also larger, the size of hawks. They travel in pairs, while crows prefer groups.

          Both are smarter than any cat, and than most children. Their IQs are about that of a 7-year-old. They make tools, they play, they communicate, and they can deliberately deceive you. They can do abstract reasoning, problem-solving, and group decision-making.  Hey, I know plenty of humans who can’t do that.

         So next time you need to solve a problem or an equation, look outside and hope you see one of these feathered friends, and hope they take pity on you. Meanwhile, check out my Youtube Mom videos for other invaluable life hacks.

Strawberry Rocks

         Yes, as a flavor, strawberry definitely rocks. But today I’m sharing a terrific trick you can use in the garden: Strawberry rocks!

          This is not a joke. You paint some small rocks to look like strawberries, then scatter them by your actual strawberry plants.

          Birds will come to steal your berries, peck on the hard rocks, and fly away. They’ll figure you are a terrible gardener and have nothing edible to offer.

          You’re welcome.  And, if you’re actually no good at growing things, you can do this with all your veggies, because it will impress the heck out of your neighbors. Imagine watermelon and pumpkin boulders—wow!

I even have a youtube video about this that you can see here.

Until We Meet Again

           I’ve told you quite a bit about our amazing cat, Simon. But now I have sad news. We lost him this week. He passed peacefully in his sleep, on a bench at the foot of our bed. We’re grateful that our church teaches we’ll have our pets again in heaven. I can only imagine the ruckus he’s stirring up there.

          This is the blog I was going to post about him today, and it still brings a smile to my face:

          I think Simon pities me. In fact, I think all cats pity their owners. First of all, no claws. Second of all, no tail. Third of all, a weird affection for dogs. The list goes on and on.

          But I think Simon most pities my lack of hunting ability. Whenever he sees me outside, I seem to be digging in the dirt. Don’t I know there won’t be a mouse under there, let alone a bird?

          And not once has he seen me climb a tree to raid a nest. Yet, you can see these nests with your bare eyes.

          Further, I never keep up my hunting skills. I do not fall on my side to wrestle with a small ball, nor do I pounce on a piece of string. I don’t suddenly dash through the house like a rocket, then hide behind the sofa. And I certainly don’t lick my coat to pretend I’m not watching a string.

          Maybe that’s why he curls up on my lap and purrs. He’s trying to comfort his poor, inept owner and let me know I’m lovable anyway.

          Thanks, Simon. I miss you.

          Be sure to subscribe to my Youtube Mom videos—you’ll occasionally see Simon wandering by.

Aloha Oy

           St. Bob certainly deserves his title. This time he took me on a surprise vacation to Hawaii for our anniversary. What a guy.

          He even entertained me on the balcony of our rented beachside condo. When doves, cardinals, and myna birds fluttered in hoping for crumbs, he adopted a tough-guy accent and said, “Hey. No mynas allowed here. You gotta be at least 18.” Ba-doom-boom.

          We were on the island of Kauai, which gets frequent rain. It also has about a zillion chickens and roosters. And I can now report to you that “mad as a wet hen” is a complete misnomer. These drenched hens were not one bit mad, nor were they seeking dry shelter. They simply went pecking about, the same as if the sun had been shining. You’re welcome.

          We ate fabulous food and saw gorgeous scenery. Then we went tubing, boogie boarding, and scuba diving. 

            Afterwards, one of the divers said she saw an octopus.  Uh-oh. I felt my face turning red. Do you think she saw my super-curly post-chemo hair?

         All too soon it was time to go home. Our dear friends, Alex and Nancy Theriault, picked us up at the airport at midnight and drove us home. But the battery in our button code door lock had died, so we were locked out. 

        Alex came to the rescue, crawled through our doggie door, and let us in. But of course! This is Joniopolis.

Whether you want the perfect beach read, travel tips, or a bunch of great life hacks, check out my books and Youtube Mom videos here.

Alexa Lays an Egg

            I just read an article in Consumer Reports that said bird songs can lift your mood, according to a study done of 655 hikers in Colorado.

Well, hot-diggity dove! I immediately asked Alexa to play some, to see if it worked. It started with a soft squawk.

No sooner had I opened this Pandora’s Box than Mickey, our Terrier/Chihuahua. came racing into the kitchen, hackles up, barking like the maniac she is. I could just imagine the wheels turning in her little grape-sized brain.

Then our cat, Simon, charged in, eyes the size of hubcaps, fur puffed out. He kept kept staring out the back door, on high alert for a bird foolish enough to rest on our patio. I had to wonder—are these recordings of injured birds who are easy to catch?

Mickey continued carrying on until I told Alexa to stop the bird songs. Did this lift my mood?  You tell me.

BUT… my books will definitely lift your mood. Fine them all right here.

Ka-Blooey!

          “Hey,” St. Bob says, “Birds are exploding in mid-air over California.”

          I roll my eyes.  “Are there kids with BB guns below them?”  Once again, I am sure there is a rational explanation.

          First I ask him where he’s reading this, and look over his shoulder at his cell phone.  This has got to be another anti-California article about acid rain or metaphysical retribution from jealous birds in the next life, who didn’t get to live by the ocean.

          But no—it’s a legitimate article in a legitimate newspaper, USA Today.  The headline reads, Why birds are igniting in midair over Calif.

          And it turns out that every two minutes, a bird is scorched to death by the light rays coming from BrightSource Energy plant, the largest solar thermal power plant in the world.

          This plant (built for $2.2 billion) has 300,000 mirrors the size of garage doors, and they all focus the sun’s power toward 40-story-tall “power towers.”  And it doesn’t take a genius to see what could happen in the path of those stunning beams—experts say as many as 28,000 birds will die within a year, drawn to bugs that are drawn to light. Thousands are already dead, and pilots flying in and out of L.A. and Las Vegas report being dazzled by the light as well.  Hard to believe?  Here’s the link. 

          Wait a second.  Aren’t solar plants supposed to be nature-friendly?  Isn’t that their entire appeal?  So what happens when the environmentally aware facilities turn on the environment?

          The article doesn’t say what’s currently being done to remedy this mass genocide (I’m guessing nothing), but something tells me there’ll be plenty of feral cats out there, holding butterfly nets and smacking their lips.

Have you visited my website, lately?  It will shed light on some great books you can buy and videos you can watch.  But I promise that light will not make you spontaneously ignite.