My Little Cheep Cheeps

Proud Parents:
Cheep Cheep (on left) and Cheeper (on right) 

For the most part my little patio garden is devoid of any living things besides those that creep or crawl....or shimmy (is that what snails do?). But every spring, for the last 3 years I have noticed that a couple birds (actually 4 last year) seem to find my hanging spider plants an ideal location to nest. But never before has it resulted in chicks. The first year it rained and a gutter broke and practically washed all the dirt out of the pot along with nest. Last year a ornery old cat came and knocked the plant over,  (I still don't want to think about what happened after that).
So this year I made sure I moved my hanging spider plant to be both out of the rain, AND in a place that felines can't reach. And just like clock work, my little birds came back! There were only two this year (I had 2 doves also last year, but I think the cat ate them because there were feathers....lots and lots of feathers...)
And sure enough they made a little home in my spider plant! When I got home from Alaska, about two weeks ago the pair, Cheeper (Momma bird) spent most of her time in the nest, while Cheep Cheep (Poppa bird) spend most of his time "cheeping" at me and trying to distract me from said nest.
Then about a week and a half ago I was outside watering my plants when I heard the weirdest noise. It was like a high pitched screeching noise. Kind of like an "eeeeeeeeee". Then as suddenly as it began it would stop. Meanwhile Cheep Cheep was practically having a heart attack and jumping all over the place, fluttering around me, and getting much closer than normal. That was when I realized I was getting awfully close to the nest with my watering can. So I backed away and took a seat at my patio table and waited. Soon Cheaper was back, and she took a sort of incremental path to the nest watching me the whole time while Cheep Cheep was STILL jumping around making a racket and trying to distract me. She wouldn't fly up there if I was looking right at her, so I had to hide behind my sunglasses and turn my head a little in the other direction. Then she'd go from her lookout on the fence to the olive tree....wait, and check on me...then from the olive tree to the bistro table.....wait, check on me again....and then quickly up to the nest, where I immediately after heard "eeeeeeeee".
My birds had babies!!! Hooray! I was super excited. It sounded like two or three, but I never got close enough to actually look in the nest because I was afraid that Momma and Poppa would have a heart attack and die, or worse, abandon their little ones.
For about a week after that as soon as I got home from work I'd open the sliding door and listen to my little avian family. And it was always the same routine. Cheep Cheep was the lookout, and first responder whenever I stepped outside on the patio. He was relentless in chirping at me and never stopped until I went inside. Cheaper was a diligent mother going back and forth, back and forth, with food for her babies. I think she trusted Cheep Cheep to keep me distracted because she never went out of her way to ward me off. She only made sure I wasn't looking when she flew into the nest with her mouthful of green little worms and insects.
I managed to take a photo of the nest from afar by holding up my camera, and zooming in, but it's not a great shot, and I didn't dare try to get any closer for fear of attack by Cheep Cheep.
And then on Sunday morning I noticed a strange silence outside when I opened the sliding door. I stepped out, and Cheep Cheep wasn't there to holler at me. I got close to the plant and whistled, but still nothing. I have no idea how long baby birds take to leave the nest, but it seemed awful quick. I looked around on the ground hoping I wouldn't find little chicks with broken necks anywhere. I didn't.
Then on Monday when I got home from work I almost got dive bombed my Cheep Cheep on the way to the front door. I was like "What the heck?!" as I hurried to unlock the door and rush inside. I peered out the window, and even then Cheep Cheep was fluttering in front of it trying to distract me. I tried to see if maybe somehow the little chicks got out of the nest but couldn't fly, but Poppa was having none of it. I gave up.
Then on Tuesday I was walking to the front door again after work and a little tan and brown striped bird flew up and crashed into my screen door, then got stuck fluttering in the corner of the building. It was swerving (as much as a bird can swerve) all over the place, half falling then, flying up, then tumbling back through the air. At first I thought it was injured.....but then came Cheep Cheep and Cheaper to the rescue (yes she joined in this time). They practically dive bombed me, and  there was birds chirping, and flying things everywhere, and me freaking out in the middle of it all. Finally Cheeparito (the baby) managed to remove himself from my doorway and I was able to dash inside. I spent the next half hour at my kitchen window watching the FedEx, UPS and mailman get harassed by the worried parents. It's much funnier when it's not happening to you. I only saw the one chick, so I don't know if there were others that died or what.
Yesterday I was finally able to grab a couple photo's of my little family or squatters. Cheeparito doesn't look like mom or dad, but he is also much harder to see on the ground than they are, so maybe it's to protect him. I am wondering if his feathers wont change when he is older. I've heard of some birds laying eggs in others nests, so that's a possibility too. Either way he's pretty cute.
As of yesterday he can fly...sort of. And all afternoon he fluttered around the yard and bushes and mom and dad were right behind him. Cheaper is feeding him still. Or maybe she is trying to teach him what to look for and how to feed himself.
You might be wondering how I can tell Cheep Cheep from Cheeper, and it's mostly based on behavior, and the fact that Cheeper always feeds the baby. She stays on the ground looking for bugs and whatever only paying attention to me when I am super close, while Poppa is always between us, and ALWAYS watching me and ALWAYS making noise.
Anyway, I don't know a darn thing about birds really, so all of what I've written is just based on what I saw. Who knows? I could have it backward. Maybe the dad's feed the babies and the moms do all the guarding? I don't even know what kind of birds they are! But I've enjoyed observing them and learning a little about them through good old fashioned observation. Here are a couple photos of the happy family!

Cheeparito in his nest.

Cheeparito outside my kitchen window

Cheeparito. What a cute baby!

Cheeper with an ant in her mouth for baby.

Poppa Cheep Cheep always on the lookout!

The Tale of Kale...A Scientific Inquiry

(Note: This short story is directly inspired (in general idea, and writing style) by my recent infatuation with M. Twain)

You are never going to believe me, but I swear this is the truth, and I will recount it just as it happened, and as best as I remember, leaving out no thought or detail.
Way back yesterday I came across a recipe for baked kale chips (the leafy green veggie) while aimlessly cruising the Internet. How I arrived upon it is something of a mystery (like the lost colony of Roanoke, or where Jimmy Hoffa is buried). As best I remember I followed a link from one page and then another and then three to five more after that until there was no hope of ever finding my way back to the Google home page by the route I'd come. However I managed it, suddenly there before me was the recipe. It was most unexpected (and both my eyebrows shot up accordingly), kind of like walking down a dark alleyway, and finding an old man smoking a pipe and reading a paper in a purple and green polka-dot recliner. It was just that strange. Ironically, if someone had asked me moments earlier what was the least likely thing I thought I might come across on the Internet I feel certain I would have answered, "A recipe for kale chips." And if someone had asked me what was the least likely thing I thought I might find at the end of a dark alley I would have said a old man smoking a pipe and....well you know.
Normally at this point I would beat a hasty retreat since I find "vegetable"chips (excluding potatoes of course) of any variety among the most frightening things I can think of (along with high heeled tennis shoes, people who name their babies after characters from Lord of the Rings, and airplanes made out of wood) but with a morbid curiosity not unlike peeking out behind a pillow when watching a horror film, I read on.
Anyway the author of the recipe said she ( I am just going out on a limb and assuming the lady is a she. I could be wrong but most ladies are not men, and men don't eat diet chips and so you see the clear line of reasoning here...it all adds up to the lady being a woman. I'm not saying that guys and gals don't equally like to have our cake and eat it too (as the saying goes) it's just that we women seem to like our cake without any calories, no matter what the cost. Speaking of cake I tried a "diet" cake once, it was like eating a cracker of wheat flour and sand with a dash of Splenda sprinkled on top....but I digress.) So where was I? Oh! Of course. The author of the recipe said she used kale chips as a substitute for potato chips. Impossible I thought. That poor woman must be delusional (the sort of mad person that wears a dirty bathrobe all day and mutters to herself in the mirror mistaking her own reflection for that of the "crazy lady" that she is certain is always staring at her). I could just see her eating radishes and telling herself they were strawberries. In my mind I watched her piling them on top of her "diet" shortcake, and writing a recipe for that too. As lovely as it would be, I told myself, there is just no way a bland, nutritious, healthy, green vegetable could possibly supplant the deliciously salty, cholesterol laden and fat saturated euphoria produced by that dream within a dream: the potato chip. There is just no way. I rolled my eyes but diligently read on, all the while thinking this was one of those ideas that needed to be trashed, thrown away and forgotten along with soy hot dogs, vegemite, spray on hair, skinny jeans and reusable toothpicks.
Anyway being the ever vigilant scientist I am it occurred to me that it would be unforgivable, never mind unscientific, to state the above as a fact without a rigorous experiment to prove the truth of it. How many sorry people have made false claims based on nothing but opinion! On of my most awful nightmares is to become so confused. I had (in the past, although I cannot recall the date exactly, April or May 1995?) vowed never to become one of those lost and ignorant souls so I knew even though it irked me, I needed to test my hypothesis. My culinary sensibility sighed in annoyance while the scientist is me cried "Sally forth my brave girl!"
So I "sallied" (in my car of course) to the grocery store after work and purchased a bunch of kale, which to my regret was not on sale. The cashier raised an eyebrow when I went through the line, as it was my only purchase. "What is this for?" She asked with a smile. "I am making chips." I responded solemnly. My comment was followed by an awkward silence as her smile pressed itself into a frown. For the rest of our brief encounter her eyes darted back and forth like balls in a pinball machine in every direction but mine. She didn't speak to me again either as though any further verbal contact might expose her to whatever mental illness I had inadvertently contracted. (Who was I to criticize her hypothesis? I had only read the words of Crazy Recipe Lady, and look where I was?) Even so, I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, as she silently handed me the receipt while staring at my left ear.
The perils of scientific inquiry are often difficult, I told myself. More than once a scientist has been looked upon with skepticism, and this situation was no different. I was not the first scientist to be viewed as "a little cream cheese short of a shmear", and it was very unlikely that I would be the last. "She probably eats radishes on her strawberry short cake." I think she mumbled under her breath as I walked out of the store.
When I got home I set to work. I put my hair back in a ponytail, wrapped my apron securely around my waist. Took it off and got a different one because the first one was dirty and needed to be washed. Then washed my hands. I laid out all my ingredients on the counter. This was going to be a lot of work and from my best guess I calculated I would dirty approximately two bowls, a whisk, a spoon, and one baking sheet. That was no good as washing dishes seriously cuts into my evening reading time...besides I decided it was too much work for an experiment I was sure was going to fail. Then I was struck by a thought. Call it genius, or brilliance, (or whatever other word you want to use that implies superior mental power focused to produce a better than average idea). It shot through my brain like an invisible bullet with no mass, whereupon it lodged itself in the front of my consciousness. I quickly put everything away, including the whisk. The recipe called for apple cider vinegar, oil, and some other stuff. But, as we all agreed, I am a genius and on top of that I am lazy (we'll we didn't actually discuss that I am lazy, but I am sure you would concur were all the facts laid before you). So I just decided to coat the leaves in a light layer of Italian dressing (with my hands over the sink). It took me longer to tie my apron than it did to prepare my kale. I turned the oven on to 350 and waited until it warmed.
While I was waiting I eyed the kale suspiciously. Not suspiciously like i thought it was going to leap off the cookie sheet and try to kill me, but suspiciously like why would the Crazy Recipe Lady choose kale and not..oh I don't know, cabbage or rhubarb? Just then it occurred to me maybe she didn't eat all the chips afterward, maybe she smoked some of them too. Who knew? If kale could get you high that would explain why she thought the chips tasted so good, and why she was often inclined to eat the whole batch. It made scientific sense. At any rate I decided I would leave the experimental smoking of vegetable produce for another day. I took a bite of the raw kale, just out of curiosity. It was really tough and kind of bitter, just as I expected. If brussel sprouts and a head of lettuce were somehow able to break the rule of extra-species mating and have a baby, I am sure it would closely resemble kale. I spit it in the trash. I thought to give up on the whole experiment right then, but I told myself I'd come this far, and my reward for finishing the process would be a totally justified and scientifically based scathing review of the recipe on the authors page (that is, assuming I could ever fine the web page again, which was unlikely, but I suppose at least theoretically possible). So I popped the kale in the oven and baked it for...oh 12 or so minutes...then I pulled it out and waited for it to cool. It looked like it did before, but dryer and more shriveled up. It looked like stuff I had seen growing on rocks along stream beds.
I poured myself a large glass of water and opened a beer before I tested my first piece, just in case I needed an emergency mouth rinse. I reached for a tiny piece, and sniffed it. It didn't smell like much and it was very crumbly, like a thousand year old piece of parchment. Hopefully it doesn't taste like one I thought as I took the plunge, and set it on my tongue. I began to chew before I could change my mind. It was too late to turn back now! I chewed vigorously. The cold brewski in my hand was my only comfort in the following moments of uncertainty.
The crispy green leaf was gone (probably half way to my stomach by the rate at which I was swallowing) before it registered in my brain that my tongue actually enjoyed the experience. I stopped. Could it be? Had I lost my mind?!? Why, it was delicious! Not exactly a potato chip mind you, but something close and yummy, and just as addictive. And it was good for me? I almost fainted in disbelief. It was too much. Who would have thought I would live long enough to see such a miracle? I ate the entire tray, stopping only briefly to take a breath and marvel at my discovery. Even my accidental pairing with Miller Lite ended up being what some might call divine inspiration.
I certainly learned my lesson. You becha. It goes to show you ( and me, and everyone else for that matter) why experimentation is so important, even when we are so sure what the outcome will be. Most of the time we will probably be right. But those few times we are wrong (and pleasantly so) make all the process of discovery worth while.

P.S. The author would like to apologize for calling the above mentioned Crazy Recipe Lady crazy.