April 26, 2024
All The Hungry Ladies
When we woke up on Friday morning, it was still dark outside. I came into the kitchen after washing up, and my wife had a pot of hot coffee ready to go. We took our cups outside and sat down to watch the sky light up. It was 42 degrees, but all the patio furniture was dry, signaling the humidity had dropped. I was happy the spring morning temperatures were still so cool.
We had a game we played with Kilo, where my wife and I acted like we were talking to each other, throwing words into our conversation that Kilo understood. There were words like “are you”, “hungry”, and “breakfast” that threw our smart girl into a state of excitement. Intending to tease our hungriest dog, I began talking to my wife in front of Kilo. I said, “Wow, I’m really HUNGRY this morning and I sure would like to EAT some BREAKFAST”. My wife didn’t catch the game and thought I was about to invite her to go eat breakfast. We laughed once we figured out my little game had fooled all the hungry ladies in our home.
My wife whipped up some waffles with peaches for breakfast. After, she sat down to study while I made some notes in my office. During this time, the exterminator arrived at the house, so we played musical dogs, trying to get them all put away before the dreaded knock on the door that would throw them into a barking frenzy. We were sure the gentleman was going to pull out dozens of dead mice from the traps below the house, but after twenty minutes, he came back to the front door with a single small, sad looking mouse. He asked if he could throw it into the woods and we concurred. Then he was off to his next pest emergency.
My wife studied for an hour, and I was still at my desk writing, when she called me to the deck with some sad news. Recently, our wren parents had rebuilt their nest under the pergola and were preparing for a brood of chicks. This morning, however, my wife discovered two eggs broken on the deck underneath the nest. The small white eggs with rust-colored speckles had cracked open and there was egg yolk, white, and red goo that appeared to be blood. We were heartbroken to see our wren parents lose their brood. We became attached to these two birds after witnessing them parent eight chicks last spring.
In the early afternoon, my wife put vegetables on the smoker for smoked salsa. She sent me to the store for a few items, so I drove to the Piggly Wiggly in Bailey to pick up pellets for the smoker, some spices, a suet block for the birds, and four packs of firewood they had on sale.
While checking out, the cashier asked me about the suet, which was advertised to attract woodpeckers. She asked, “Now why on God’s green earth would you want to attract woodpeckers? I’m trying to get them off my house”. I laughed, explaining that I took photographs of birds, and she told me about an article she read on how to scare away woodpeckers. The article prompted her to buy a fake owl and small Halloween bats to hang outside her house. I laughed at our different views of the situation.
She followed me out to my car and I assured her I didn’t mind loading the wood myself. But she whispered that the manager, who was standing outside arranging a sign, would “holler” if she didn’t. I told her to let me know if he hollered at her because I would holler back and give him what for. God, I loved living in the country.
After delivering the groceries to my wife, I changed shirts, grabbed my lucky fishing hat, which, by my definition, was any hat I had on while fishing. Ready to head out to the reservoir, I kissed my wife goodbye, only to be sent to her bathroom to apply sunscreen. I was a good boy and complied with her orders. I jumped in the car and drove off, but I turned around because I had forgotten my wedding ring, which I took off while putting on the sunscreen. After, I rushed out the door and headed to the lake, making a quick stop at the trash service center.
The reservoir was less busy than on a weekend. It was sunny and bright, with blue skies and intermittent clouds that were puffy and white. The wind was manageable and the weather warm. It was going to be a great fishing day. I made my way to the end of one pier and set up shop. On my first cast, I got a couple of bites, and within ten minutes, I had reeled in my first smallmouth bass.
About an hour in, I felt the sun burning the back of my neck, so I flipped my cap around so the visor would protect me. It was a peaceful time near the water. The reservoir was quiet except for the sound of small waves lapping against the pier. A pair of ducks flew right over me, their wings making a whizzing sound, cutting the air in their high-speed flight. It was impressive. I left Buckhorn after catching two smallmouth bass, two yellow sunfish, and one crappie. Spring fishing was back, and I was excited about this year’s season.
I was happy to see my wife when I returned home. The dogs were also excited to see me and they loved smelling my hands, dirty from handling earthworms and fish. My wife showed me a base she found for the outdoor umbrella. It was so small and sleek and perfect, kind of like her. She was finishing up the smoked salsa and preparing food. Once she came to a stopping point, we walked into the forest together.
The sky clouded, and the woods felt cool, almost cold. I had just been battling the sun without a hint of shade, and now, thirty minutes later, the weather was completely different. We made our way down the trails, over to Beaver Tooth Rock. As we approached the large boulder, we heard something crashing down from a tree. It was a squirrel that had fallen, catching a low, flexible limb at the last moment.
My wife told me the wrens were back in the nest and we wondered if they were laying more eggs. I speculated the birds knew the eggs weren’t viable and had pushed them out. There were also birds who laid eggs in occupied nests, hoping the hosts would hatch their young. Maybe the broken eggs didn’t belong to the wren. The description matched wren eggs, but nature had a way of being sly. Invading birds often had eggs that looked similar to the host’s, another effort to fool them.
Back at the house, we sat on the deck and drank one beer together. An eastern bluebird flew up into a tree in front of us. Soon after, a red cardinal landed next to the bird. Then another bluebird arrived. I giggled, telling my wife the Bloods and Crips were about to throw down. We ate fish tacos outside and talked about the upcoming week. My wife would be gone during the weekdays for the next month, but back home on weekends.
Although we disliked being apart, there was no alternative, and this was the last rotation this would happen. I felt optimistic. Exhausted from all the yard work, walking, and outdoor activities, we showered and went to bed, my wife arriving in our bedroom about an hour before me. When I slipped into bed, I pulled her close, knowing that in a few days, she’d be gone.