Busy, busy. And then I discovered I was even busier than I thought. I had been racing around entertaining guests, teaching workshops, caring for raptors and I was driving home from the aviary thinking, “phew! Night off, getting in my jammies and reading.” As I walked in the door Rich announced that he wanted to go to some live radio theater recording of his baseball buddy’s new one-act play and it started in half an hour, so hurry. (It’s complicated but remind me to tell you about Rich reliving his second childhood, playing fast pitch with the famous Half-Century league. I keep tripping over bats, mitts, sports cups, #27 shirts…) Almost as an afterthought, he commented, “Remind me to give you a check to put in the joint account. We must be overdrawn.”
“Huh? That can’t be.” I had just checked it yesterday and there was enough for another week in there, plus there’s overdraft protection linked to the account that has ALL of the Asheville remodel funds in it.
“Nope. I was in Panera’s and they looked at me funny and said my card was no good. Must be overdrawn. But hurry or we’ll be late for the play.” (This very comment gives you some idea of how casually out of touch a certain person is to our personal financial affairs. He’s a top notch bread winner but not the person to mind our store. I, on the other hand, have my pulse on every penny around here and notice if even one is moved. We make a team, of sorts.)
I had to walk past the laptop on my way out of the shower and to the closet- it was on the bed-so standing there in the altogether I clicked on the online bank link and AYYYYYEEEEEE! Okay- don’t think about the visual. Just imagine the sound of me shrieking, panting, hissing and barking all in one breath. Because that was when I discovered that, in a madcap dash through South America, I had leased a Mercedes, bought two computers and a very high-end sound system, bought a whole new designer boutique wardrobe and- wait for it- had multiple plastic surgeries at the Clinica Estetica in Guayaquil, Ecuador. And then, a short half hour later, I stopped for McDonalds right there in Guayaquil.Now, you might think that after the abdominplastia, the blefaroplastia and the mamoplastia de aumento I would be in too much pain to start pounding my head and race around the bedroom in little frantic circles, but no.
Calls and hours later we discovered that our credit card had been “skimmed” at a seedy 7-Eleven in Tampa when Rich made an emergency stop for gas on an airport run. I guess this is a device they put right in the pump and it reads all of your info and then sends it off wirelessly to credit card fraud artists and before you can say “big titties” someone is having fun at your expense. So that was exciting. I will say, as much as banks get bad press, J.P. Morgan Chase gets beaucoup points from us for taking care of this in relatively painless fashion. So far, they have removed all the charges except the double cheeseburger with fries. Good bank.
Some of you already know about all this from my facebook page and you’ve even seen my new look.You like? I mean, it’s one thing to say, “make me look like Jean Harlow” but only in South America can you get the owl implant.
Eagles go and Eagles come
Down at Boyd Hill we’re all still feeling really crummy about the absence of Spirit and in fact, we’re having a little ceremony celebrating her passing tomorrow evening, complete with some Native American representatives. But then yesterday there was a little bit of “goes around, comes around” when we got the call that a new baby eagle was in need of a foster nest and our nest had been chosen. Well, it’s not really OUR nest, but the one that Boyd Hill aviary folk monitor. It was chosen because it’s already home to a youngster the same age- which we know because we monitor it. Anyway, this new juvenile came from a toppled nest near Okeechobee and was one of a pair. His sister was also relocated a few miles away in another nest but I guess you can only sneak in one youngster before the foster parents, who never signed up in the first place, go WTF? Because really? These are not small babies.Here is the Audubon person from the Center for Birds of Prey in Maitland getting ready to stuff the six-week old in a zippered duffel bag so he can be sent up to the nest. He was quite testy: bit her on the cheek. I’m telling you, eagle wrestling, as noted in previous posts, is not for sissies.Here he is, being dumped into the nest with the current occupant saying, “Hey! Get him the hell outta here!”Bird in a bag
Just to give you perspective. The nest is WAY HIGH up. It took the tree climbing bird guy a long time and a lot of negotiating to get all the way up there. Once he was in position, newly banded baby was unceremoniously scrunched into a gym bag and sent up a rope pulley. This was all done right around dusk and you know how birds quiet and calm down in the dark? Well, in this case, not so much. This was clearly not a case of slipping him in unnoticed and hoping that mom and dad would wake up this morning and think, “huh! Look what the eagle fairy brought!” They were very cranky while all this was going on and circled, swooped, darted and called the whole time.
Over the next few days we will keep constant watch to make sure the new addition to the nest is well cared for and fed and not pushed aside or injured. But eagles, by and large, make good foster parents. Spirit the eagle is gone, but we still have lots of eagle spirit about the place.Dad, watching over the human shenanigans in his nest. (Photo credits: Barb Walker)
If you had a pig and posted pictures of your pig on your blog and someone left comments like “Some pig” and “Humble pig” and signed them ‘Charlotte’ wouldn’t you catch on? Apparently not.