PIC for AJ

Morning all......yes nice vacation ..once I got loose..........I love the challenges that life presents.
I woo’ed my man....... I begged for a spanking ....and He fell for it ...hook...line...and sinker..............so he let me loose.........then I pounced on him and gave him his medicine for leaving me in the back with all that wind. Bad hair day to say the least.....but he is forgiven..........what choice do I have .I must forgive him or I will have no ride back home.....so..............now that we got past that little chicken prank we were in good shape.

So will have to post some pics.....saw an eagle yesterday at Cheat Lake..............

Guarding against squirrels, possums, and smoker thieves

Here's a little serendipity about Crow's--the early newscast (CBS) had a thing about Portland's problems with the migratory Crows. As soon as they started into the segment I remembered that STJ (4x4 John) was talking about this last year. Evidently most of the resident crows and those from further north who are moving south (about this time of year)--and because they are big, numerous when gathering to migrate south and messy beyond all reason--Portland has for years been trying to find a way to dissuade te crows from gathering in the middle of downtown Portland.

So there is now an army of raptors--some kind of hawk--they didn't say which one but one of the bigger guys have been trained (successfully) to roust the crows. When the crows start to mass in downtown Portland the falconers come bringing their crow trained hawks and turn them loose to drive the crows out of the area.

The hawks don't kill the migrating crows but they sure scare the pants off of them and the crows leave that area and gather elsewhere.

Some of our crows simply don't migrate which explains why right now there are almost no crows in my neighborhood (which usually has quite a few--their in downtown Portland wishing the migrators good luck and have a great trip, see ya' next year.

I think our robins do migrate--I never see any around here in the winter--but the really aren't all that common in the summer either.

One of the smaller birds that crows do catch, kill and eat if they can catch them are the non native starlings which were imported by that idiot who wanted to make sure that every bird mentioned in Shakespear was present in the US as well a in England. He brought starlings in. Unfortunately they occupy the same nitch as (that isn't spelled right, is it?) as a lot of the native song birds and their poop will remove automotive finishes if it dries on your car.

More than you wanted to know Lannie--I don't blame you--I never wanted to know it either but I have a hard time not accidently remembering stuff like this--perfectly useless, mostly.

ABTLH

Sorry for the long post !!! I put the entire lyrics/poem at bottom. I can easily see the imagery of the Poem.

Thanks ABTLH I learned some things while researching!

Kris Kristofferson - Best I can tell at least from internet he at least was part writer of the songs - more to the story??? Me and Bobby McGee - Fred Foster was the other guy and Sunday Morning Coming - looks like he did and Ray Stevens and Johnny Cash sang it. And Me and Bobby McGee - I really just recall Janis Joplin singing it

Bob Dylan - Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues - Guess I do not know a ton of his songs other than the "main stream" ones (Like a Rolling Stone, Mr. Tambourine Man, Knockin' On Heaven's Door, and Blowing In The Wind...etc...)

Phil Ochs - I definitely had not heard of Phil - looks like his life was a bit hard...I liked some of the songs I listened to. I came across this one he sang: The Highwayman
I had already known that one but from Loreena McKennitt. It is a poem by Alfred Noyes.

Phil's version - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hX1o1yLIvak

Loreena's version - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGFo0xn4JeY

Poem below - the bolded parts are not in Loreena's version...Phil's version cut some more out...it is long
PART ONE

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred.
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter.
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

PART TWO

He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her breast!
“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The red coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.

He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high.
Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

. . .

And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

You still tied up? Or did you get loose?

Guarding against squirrels, possums, and smoker thieves

Yep pretty cool - sounded louder than normal....Looked like you needed some walkie talkies with Norm(if I heard correctly) - especially being hard to see?

1964--I had that album and I think I used to know all the words to every song on it. The other Dylan song I once knew all the words to was the one that starts'

When you're lost in the rain in Juarez
And it's Easter time too,
And your gravity fails,
And negativity won't pull you through..

I'm not gonna' look it up--last night I was still trying to think who did Piano Man--and got to poking around in old lyrics--turns out the guy I was trying to think of was Kris Kristopherson--but he never did Piano Man--the two songs he was really best known for were "Me and Bobby McGee"--which he didn't write and "Sunday Morning Coming Down" (which he also didn't write) He wrote a lot of songs and some of them are much better known by other artists--weird how that happens.

Anyway I spent way too much time poking around in the music stuff and remembered that another guy whose lyrics I really liked was Phil Ochs.

I have a cat and two geriatric Dobermans claiming that it's time to come and feed them...

Bye ya'll...

ABTLH

Niche.

Though if you're pronouncing it in the American way, your spelling makes more sense.

"According to the Cambridge dictionary it's pronounced 'Nitch' in American and Canadian English and 'Neesh' in British English."

Ya know, that might be a good halloween picture for our October calendar.

I think entries are closed, but since we only have about 3 or 4 pictures, you might be able to submit late. PM dax0402 if you're interested and see what she says.

Guarding against squirrels, possums, and smoker thieves

<VBG> Yeah

dobebug

Yep it was Dylan - I did not know the song had to look it up Here are the lyrics -

"My Back Pages" was on his 1964 Album...

Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rollin' high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
"We'll meet on edges, soon," said I
Proud 'neath heated brow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
"Rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull, I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.

Girls' faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.

A self-ordained professor's tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
"Equality," I spoke their word
As if a wedding vow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.

In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not I'd become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My existence led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I'm younger than that now.

Bob Dylan - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92cF_KCH7TU
The Byrds (cover in 1967 - good year ) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h80l4XIPJC4


Jim Croce and Maury Muehleisen were awesome!

Steve Winwood sang - Back in the High Life Again - Roll With It - Valeri - While You See A Chance

Hiya Lannie,

4 x 4 John and I are the two that live in the left hand Portland and crows are evidently only partially migratory in this part of the world (also true of some other migratory birds). While I'm in a neighborhood that has a big resident bunch of crows and there are fewer in the winter there are always some crows around. I'd rather have them around than the damned squirrels--there is a crows nest in a big ancient cherry in my back yard and while there are eggs or nestlings the crows will very efficiently keep the squirrels away.

One of the bigger hummingbirds is around all winter (more of them during the summer too and a small unidentifiable wren/chickadee sort of thing that is around here all the time.

I always figured it was because generally the weather is mild enough that with very short periods of time (like when it decides to snow and sticks around for three days and panics the drivers) the crows can mostly find food and every other house in the local neighborhoods seems to have a hummingbird feeder under cover on the porch (I have the hummers from the time my fuchsias start blooming early in the spring until it gets too cold for them--they entertain my indoor only cats all summer long.

One of my dogs used to follow airplane shadows on the ground--never occurred to him to look up I guess. It was pretty funny to watch him when he spotted a shadow...

ABTLH

Right on time Lannie! That was Hilarious!

Except, she likes getting tied up.

You still tied up? Or did you get loose?

Hello?

For you Mod

Hello?

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