|
B-52 Burgers and Brew lies at a midpoint among the confluence of the Minnesota, Mississippi and St Croix Rivers. Here also is the northeastermost breeding site of a bird known as the Lark Sparrow.
Until this spring, I was not aware that there was such a bird, the Lark Sparrow. Now I've got one pair in my back yard, and two more pairs have been nesting in the pine trees which line the patio at B-52.
Although the Lark Sparrow is not described as dimorphic, the males here are mostly gray and white, and the females tend to brown, at least when breeding. The colors shall correct, no doubt, before they migrate south. Both sexes have dramatic white slashes across their faces. They vocalize as "Chya-et, chya-et," followed by "Brzt, brzt, brzt," in a higher register, although my phonetic approximations are perhaps exaggerated. Lark Sparrows tend not to speak English.
But they're very sociable.
From the far corner of the lower patio at B-52, which patio serves as a smoking area, there are six strings of lights spread overhead, fanning out over a 40 degree wedge, and attach to the building, spread to a width of thirty feet. The pole from which these light strings diverge is maybe 12 feet tall. At certain points one or two of the strings aren't more than eight feet above ground.
So I'm out on the patio, puffing on a nail in bright sunshine, and a male Lark Sparrow is hopping up and down on the light strings, vocalizing enthusiastically. "Yc, yc! Zt zt zt!" The guy hops down a wire until he's nearly within arm's reach. He can't vocalize as well as he'd like, because he has a worm clenched in his beak. The worm doesn't appear very happy, but the Lark Sparrow is exultant.
"Yc, yc. Zt zt zt!"
Having been invited to share in his success, I reply, "You have a nice worm!"
"Yc, yc." He hops back up the wire and turns to face me. "Zt zt zt."
"You aren't going to offer it to me, are you?"
"Zt zt."
"But what if I want some?"
"Yc, yc. Zt zt zt!"
"You mean I have to catch my own? What a beautiful worm!"
At the top of the pole, another male Lark Sparrow is silently staring down at us, and you can see it in his body language: "What a couple of idiots."
This scene was repeated three days in a row. Then it stopped. Only later did I realize that my interlocutor must have been a fledgling: Junior's first worm.
Back indoors, DOTCOM collected her first Countdown perfecto, and she was obviously elated, but commendably sedate. There was some clinking of glasses, and when the scores came back, AUVA, unbidden, took out his phone and photographed the screen.
When, an hour later, DOTCOM ran another Countdown, she asked, "AUVA, can you take a picture of this one, too?"
AUVA took out his phone again. "Don't bother," I advised him. "An hour ago she was a virgin. Now she's just a whore."
But AUVA had also run the second quiz, and this time it was he who got the recognition.
____
Postscript: Several years ago, JOHNL, originator of this thread, and BOGEY, third place in the photograph John posted, were playing Countdown side-by-side when they were confronted with a quiz, the first fourteen questions having to do with Osaka, Japan. And what was the fifteenth question, John? "I don't remember, but I sure was glad it wasn't about Osaka." BOGEY recalls the same quiz, but only specifies, "Japan. It was all Japan, until the final question."
|
Login
Register
FAQ
Search
