If you don't like the heat, then wait fifteen minutes and the humidity might kill you.

Thunder, lightning and heavy rains have produced a record setting blackberry season and a welcome change from last year's forest fires. Blackberry pie, blackberry jam, blackberry muffins, blackberry salad... Interestingly, Lula began to eat blackberries right off the bush. Buckley initially thought this was not proper behavior for a dog, but about one month later he was spotted grazing on blackberries in the field himself. The dogs now wander the fields all day and return with berry-stained snouts. Of course, the chickens are gorging themselves on berries too.


Cymande continues her garden experiment and though she feels this season's crop wasn't as abundant as planned we continue to get fresh vegetables and herbs daily. The purple carrots are especially good.


We recently cooled off in the Blue Hole at Itchetucknee Springs with our friend Allison. We also attended the July 4th fireworks downtown. Allison got to see many of our patients wandering amongst the explosions and smoke. I found the experience a bit surreal. Allison is on a raw diet, but that didn't stop us (or her) from drinking wine and eating recently slaughtered OWR chicken. We all would like to thank her for our overflowing Ipod and Ariel Pink playing continuously in the studio.

Swampy!

We took a little trip to Amelia Island via some hereto unknown route through the Oceola Forest. We got lost and nearly run off the road by a small fleet of swamp folk. A one point we watched amazed as a swamp man nearly flipped his swamp mobile into the swamp. Then we braced ourselves as five swamp mobiles swerved willy-nilly across the dirt road and somehow parted to allow our narrow escape. I will write no more about the swamp people and their swampy ways.





Arriving on Amelia Island, we experienced the now requisite wind-blown umbrella crashing down the beach and later soothed our nerves with ice cream.



We also played camp counsellors when our clinic took a trip down the Itchetucknee River. We were able to break away and take a private swim at a spring head.




Much to everyones amusement I decided to repaint the garden tractor and replace the tires. Initially, we attempted to save the tires with a fix-a-flat and injectable foam combination. The result was basically me driving around on flat tires as the drive belt burst into flames. Today, the tractor is shiny red with some sweet new tires. Vrooom!

The Cull, the Greeks and the Gliders

A few stubborn broody hens had created a flock of over 35 chickens and as nature would have it, half were males. Seven rapidly maturing cockerels can create quite a stir around the coop and order needed restoration. Saturday was unusually cool and damp. I woke with the roosters declaration of dawn. I boiled a large pot of water. I collected all the necessary implements. Out of respect and empathy, I had a few words with the chickens, but they didn't seem to care. Cymande and Charlie woke shortly before I began the cull. Two hours later we had seven cleaned chickens. We celebrated over a few waffles and a stroll around High Springs.


Sunday evening we had a memorable meal of chicken, biscuits and fresh carrots from the garden. The garden continues to grow with new vegetables and flowers sprouting daily. Our little water garden has been sustaining itself for over a year now and the small native fish have kept it clean of mosquito larvae. We only have one complaint. There seems to be an unseen and powerful creature that seeks out and eats entire flowering plants in the quiet of the night. We have theorized that it is a deer, but it has yet to reveal itself. Sometimes it is just easier and more enjoyable to blame Buckley for any destruction.


Our wide variety of roses all seem to be thriving. Cymande reminds me of the specific names, but more powerful bits of useless information force them out. Charlie and I have been working on the patio area between the barn and house. He seems obsessed with perfection, but this doesn't bother me. I mutter something about the Greeks and the Parthenon and something I call the "correction stone." This seems to distract his criticism long enough for me to inaccurately lay another block. It's a fascinating process.



The morning of the chicken slaughter I sat at the edge of the field enjoying the cool day. I noticed a bluebird nest box that I hadn't checked in about a month. I carefully opened the box and revealed not a bluebird, but two large-eyed mammals. Upon further examination they were determined to be:

Glaucomys volans


Common Name: Southern Flying Squirrel
Description: 8-10" length, light brown with white abdomen, large eyes for nocturnal activity. Gliding membrane, or patagium, extends from wrist of front leg to the ankle of the hind leg. When the legs are extended the patagium forms a wing-like gliding surface. Additionally the tail is flattened and serves as a rudder and stabilizes gliding. Flying squirrels produce both an audible "tseet" sound and also high frequency sound which is inaudible to the human ear.
Range: Eastern North America from Ontario to the Gulf Coast with isolated populations in Central America.
Habitat: Deciduous forests with oak, hickory, pecans or walnuts. Live in cavities and will inhabit nest boxes. Live communally, especially in winter when huddling gives them significant energy savings.
Food: Primarily vegetarian: nuts, seeds, fruits, berries, mushrooms, flower buds and blossoms, and tree bark. Occasionally bird eggs, insects, shrews, mice. Nuts are eaten in a distinct pattern, usually cutting a smooth oval in the shell to remove the nut while tree squirrels crush the nut and shell.
Other facts: Apparently, Southern Flying Squirrels have been kept as pets and have formed close bonds with humans when obtained at a young age. This is frowned upon...but what isn't these days.


Buckley maintains that he had nothing to do with anything.

Ajo, Arizona

Cymande and I recently pursued adventure and relaxation with my parents in Ajo, Arizona. The start was a bit confusing and frustrating with a missed flight in Atlanta due to severe weather which then resulted in a 3AM taxi ride to Buckhead with a slightly deranged cabbie. We slept, watched cable and left 24 hours later, finally arriving late at night in Phoenix.



The following day my parents gave us the Ajo tour including the Curley School which has been repurposed into studios and housing for local artists. We also stopped by the deserted rodeo grounds. We finished the day with a bout of my unpracticed pool playing, plentiful food and Ajo friends.





My parents arranged a tour of the nearby desert with their friend John. He volunteered to put his vehicle through some serious desert trauma and for this we are sympathetic and thankful. The surrounding mountains are sinking into their own eroded material after centuries of wind, rain and powerful heat. From a distance the mountains seem barren, but will a little exploration an abundance of life can be observed. The trip took us east of town over the nearby low mountains and into a gorgeous valley full of saguaro cacti, chollas, creosote, bursage and ocotillo.



Which reminds me, my parents have a spectacular semi-famous ocotillo that seems to attract every bird in town. (behind Cymande and my father who appears to be mid-story)(as usual)!


Fouquieria splendens
Common Name: Ocotillo
Description: Stems 5cm diameter at base, up to 10 meters high, bright red flowers in spring, with rainfall small ovate leaves appear and last weeks to months. Only species of this family in North America.
Range: Southwest US and Northern Mexico.

The birds that visit the ocotillo appear to be eating the flowers and drinking nectar. Species include: phainopeplas, white-winged doves, a variety of sparrows, cardinals, cactus wrens, curved-billed thrashers and finally:


Auriparus flaviceps
Common Name: Verdin
Description: 9-11 cm songbird, gray body/yellow face, small sharp bill.
Range: Desert Southwest into Central Mexico.
Habitat: Desert Scrub, especially along washes.
Food: Insects and spider.
Other facts: Builds nests for breeding and roosting with the roosting nest being much smaller. The male builds the outer stick shell while the female builds the lining. The roosting nest in winter are heavily insulated and decrease energy needs by up to 50%.

Anyway, back to the tour...So, before we got started we all took some practice rounds out at the shooting range. Cymande blasted holes in a poor defenseless sheet metal deer and I shot the living hell out of a soda bottle.


Then John fearlessly drove us into the desert. The roads were composed of little rocks, moderately sized rocks and big rocks, but that didn't stop us. We had a picnic on the shore of a large dry wash.


Finally, Cymande rode, well, sat atop John's patient horse. We slept well.


The next day we travelled south to Organ Pipe National Monument and watched the vultures soar off of the Ajo Mountains. We learned about the flora, fauna and geography. Now I can casually discuss the bajada, alluvial fan and arroyo.



Ajo is a strange and beautiful place full of interesting people, plants and creatures. My parents were the perfect hosts and have surrounded themselves with fascinating and kind people. It makes it easy to visit and difficult to leave.

Ross Returns..."OOOZE!"

After many years away Ross, bearing wiffle balls and bats, made a much anticipated visit to OWR. He found himself involved in a variety of activities that are unique to the local environment. On day 1 Ross and I floated down the Santa Fe and paddled up it, in that order. I take full responsibility for the sequence. The float down was placid and lovely; the return, athletic and sunburnt. Turtles basked, hawks soared, night herons hid, fishermen cast, Ross and I paddled. We spent the remainder of the day pleasantly wandering the field, eating and imbibing.




We woke early the next day to get Charlie who has been several months in South Carolina. His train was late and we had hearty breakfast at The Fox in Avondale. We travelled from the train station to St. Augustine. Food, drink and ice cream was consumed yet again. Ross spent a considerable time disputing the age of St. Augustine. He feels it is not the the oldest city in America and steadfastly denies its importance. It is still unclear why he feels this way.




We returned home to prepare for the night's activities, a night of burning rubber, motor oil, filth, noise, pollution and testosterone at the North Florida Speedway. Ross seemed impressed by the carefree attitude of children (and their parents) playing four feet away from speeding deathtraps. He seemed less impressed by the cheese fries. Charlie seemed impressed and took to banging his coke bottle on the bleachers while screaming the name of his favorite car, "OOOOZE..."




The next day was a sporting day of wiffleball, tim-e basketball, tim-e soccer and lawn bowling. There was a brief episode of a sport best described as wrestle ball, luckily everything ended peacefully. On the last day Ross and Charlie began with the axe and timber fell. It then progressed to a trip to the feed store and finally to the discovery of 12 new chicks in the coop. Sadly we dropped Ross off at the airport only a few hours ago...a brief visit. We all look forward to the next time. Cymande's in recovery from testosterone overexposure...as for Charlie he is still screaming "OOOOZE!".