wayner

I’ve often wondered how best to approach making posts to a blog. Do you throw everything into a single post the next time you update? Or do you try to keep separate ideas and themes to their individual entries?

I ask this as there are a number of things I’d like to touch on at the moment. They seem a little too all over the map for a single post, yet if I separate them, how do I write about them? In order that they happened?

Screw it, I’ll just wing it.

Over the weekend I bought a lawnmower, a Gardena 380 C. It’s a manual push mower. While manual anything really isn’t my style the idea behind this is is that:

• it’s not a huge backyard
• I want it small so I can keep it in the backyard and not have to walk around all the houses to get to the garage
• I don’t have to keep a gas can around just for it
• And it’s cheap

They’re probably not the greatest reasons, but they work. And so does the lawnmower.

Every depiction I’ve ever seen of the push mower made it seem like a hard, hard, hard task. In fact, I was afraid it’d be the death of me. But this thing just chews through the grass. At least the short grass. We’re thinking that the lawn hasn’t been mowed in a year and it was kinda high. Any grass that was fairly rigid bent over completely and didn’t get caught in the blades. So I’m going to have to hack them down a little bit myself to get them all in line.

Once I establish a baseline everything should work just fine.

Something else I wanted to comment on was that I saw X3 over the weekend but I think I’ll put that in a later post by itself. (Tho it’ll probably me trying to decide if the movie is awesome or just excellent.)

Last weekend we also picked out new furniture which will be delivered this coming Saturday. And it’s yellow! It should (I’m hoping) look pretty nice against the blue walls. It’s made using microfiber which is suppose to be good with pet hair. We shall see.

I think there was something else but I’m going to cut straight to the big pain of tonight^tm ’cause I’m tired and still have some stuff to do.

Anita tried to check the messages on the phone from work today but the answering machine didn’t cut in. Then she tried calling her mother tonight and didn’t get a dial tone.

Odd.

The last time we remember getting a call is Sunday evening and we haven’t touched it since then so it’s been out at least two days now. Our number still generates a ring on the calling phone, just not the receiving. Tho before this I thought the ring was an indication that an actual phone was ringing. And that without a phone connected you’d get a busy signal or something of that sort.

I guess not.

Anita called Bell on my cell phone and they seem to be convinced that it’s something we did because nothing at Bell could Possi-bligh go wrong. They’re sending out a tech on Thrusday who will show up sometime between 8AM and 7PM. That’s one hour short of a watch dial. That’s insane!! I think I’ll switch to Rogers just for that.

In honour of Stu’s Birthday:

Suffering in silence, nowhere to go after thirty in this life, just hang on and humor the children. Let the young enjoy themselves while they can. Why not?

-Hunter S. Thompson

On my way back from the corner store today I noticed a little something in the grass of the path I was taking. From my passing glance it looked like one of those hairy caterpillar and I turned around to take a second look.

Well it wasn’t.

It was a freshly hatched baby bird. And I mean freshly. Only the slightest bit of feathers on him, I don’t think the eyes were open yet and when curled together still resembled the shape of the egg he broke out of. I was thinking to myself how tragic it all was when he moved.

Damn it.

Now what was I going to do? Here’s a little life that’s not even had a chance to put up a fight and he’s sitting in the middle of a dirt path.

I went back to the house and got a paper towel, not really knowing what I was going to do with it.

With the paper folded into fours it made a nice little cone shape to pick the little guy up in. But what do I do?

He had the ugly of newborn all over him. Wide, soft looking beak, shriveled limbs, etc.. This guy hadn’t even been fed one meal yet.

To make it worse, he chirped. The little instinct cry to call attention from the mother for feeding. That along with stretching his little head up with wide mouth hoping for a little food was one of the most pitiful things I’ve ever seen.

Mother birds eat food and then feed it back into the mouths of the little ones. You might be surprised to know this, but I can’t do that. I needed a Mama Bird. But even that doesn’t mean much as it would be unlikely that you could force in an adoptive child without the mother objecting strongly. I’ve heard that if you disturb the nest too much they will abandon the chicks.

But I had to try…

So with the little tweeter in hand I went looking for a nest. I think I found one. About twenty feet up on the side of a building there was a little hole which this one bird kept going back to the entrance, bobbing her head in and out, then taking a step back. I’m thinking this is where he fell out. But I have no idea how it could have survived the fall. Since it was in a straight line from where I found him that means that he must have kicked/pushed himself about 5 or 6 meters crying for food.

Just bloody wonderful.

So that was not an option. So I took the chick for a little walk around the building to see if there where any other nests I might be able to find.

Nothing.

I’m guessing that I spent about 10-15 min’s looking for some sort of hope but there was none to be found. Like the fool I am I was talking to him the whole time.

Looks like I’m going to let you down, little guy.

And to be blunt, I did.

There where no other nests, no hope of contacting Mama Bird to even recognize her fallen chick. No way for me to feed him.

Where’s Superman when you need him? He might have been able to do something. But not me.

The entire time I was explaining the situation to the little bird more to apologize to myself then to him. I ended up placeing him near where I found him, tho off to the side so no one would step on him and (I pray) with the possibility of Mama hearing a tweet if the traffic noise dies down for a moment. Tho I’m not sure if that would actually make a difference. I tried to leave him visible so that if someone else who knows what to do walks by there’s a chance. (Now I’m lying to myself as well.)

So with him next to a telephone pole, weak, hungry and defenseless, I walked home for supper.

God, I feel like Hitler.