[Above photo: An intruder upon discovering suet a la carte during snowfall.]
16 January 2023
I read a witty one today: Kierkegaard—“It’s good to live in a small town, for if you find that you don’t know what you are doing, someone else does.”
I stand corrected, although I take a tiny bit of pleasure in having realized my mistake before the corrections poured in. Warblers migrate and aren’t hanging around in Maine in the winter. In addition to the single visit I observed from a nuthatch, my regular bird friend is a female Downy Woodpecker. She sat on a branch, glancing around, for 10 or 15 minutes. It gave me time to maneuver slowly around my room, retrieving my bird book and stepping back from the window far enough that my monocular could focus. It was confirmed by a friend who knows his birds and said he often sees Downies in our neighborhood, with their occasional, larger, cousin, the Hairy Woodpecker.
As I was reading emails at my desk, an immense grey squirrel discovered my hanging feeder and lowered himself (herself?) down from the branch on which it was hung, nibbling away at the suet. His fur was remarkably thick and he looked very well-fed. I extended my pole, opened the window, and poked threateningly at him. He moved off but clearly wasn’t frightened, just irritated. Back to the feeder several times but I was more persistent and he finally dropped down to the ground and lumbered away.
Why do I favor a Downy Woodpecker over a Grey Squirrel? I think of rats with a fluffy tail, for squirrels are rodents. I think of the damage red squirrels do to siding and shingles, trying to enter and build a safe, protected house in which to store acorns and raise their families. I think of Squirrel Nutkin, from Beatrix Potter.
However, birds are marvels. We can all walk and climb trees, albeit not with the speed or grace of squirrels. But we cannot fly. We can fly in airplanes, which is a bit like saying a beetle can fly, although not even. I think much of our affection for animals comes from how we anthropomorphize them. Squirrels are prosaically industrious and busy, cute survivors. Birds are magical, lighter than air. Both have remarkable physiology. It would be much more satisfying to me to befriend a bird, any bird, than a squirrel. And so it goes. They both are doing the same thing, I think: eating, avoiding danger, perhaps courting, and reproducing.
It is not surprising, given his gaffes and impulsivity, that the President is now tarred with harboring Classified documents. But there is no equivalency between his, or his aides’, sloppiness and their prompt return of the small number of them when requested and DT’s intentional removal of vast numbers of them, refusing to surrender them, lying about keeping some, and shrieking “Political targeting!”. It will dog Joe, however, giving Jim Jordan and Matt Gaetz something to howl about [rather than actually make constructive policy for the American people].
I also read an Opinion Piece, I think in the Times, listing Joe’s lies. I cannot retrieve it but went to PolitiFact and they have cataloged his frequent untruths. I wish he didn’t and think less of him for doing so. He is clearly flawed, but I generally agree with his decrees and the legislation he supports. He is on the right side of history and progress. He appears to be trying to restore order and civility and stand up for working people. Unlike his predecessor he doesn’t reveal intentions of self-enrichment. At least he wants to improve racial discrimination, address human-made climate change, diminish economic inequality, repair infrastructure, decrease child poverty, and give some of those struggling—-immigrants, college students, the poor—a break. Kevin, on the other hand, is a hapless climber, for sale to the highest bidder.
I watched the two-part series on Frontline about Israeli-developed (and supported) Pegasus spy-ware. Wow! It can know where you are, see what you are doing, and steal all your data. Big Brother is here. I want to ditch my smartphone. There is no real protection, I think. What Man has built, Man can work around. Move to the country, turn off your phone, plant your garden, raise your chickens, and explore the local bays and inlets in your kayak.
I had a culinary mishap, but not a total disaster, on Saturday. I invited 5 people for supper and decided to make a paella. I love eating it; now was my opportunity to construct one. I bought a paella pan at La Roux Kitchen on Commercial Street, gathered clams, mussels, and shrimp at Harbor Fish, purchased dry Spanish chorizo and arborio rice at Micucci, and acquired an onion, garlic, a red bell pepper, fire-roasted diced tomatoes, vegetable broth, parsley, and saffron at Hannafords. I had plenty of time, scrubbing the clams and mussels, peeling and “de-veining” the shrimp, making a broth of the shrimp heads and peels, infusing the last with saffron, and so forth. I cooked the sofrito, added the rice, then the broth, and arranged the seafood with artistry, garnishing it all at the end with chopped parsley. I heated and served the chorizo separately.
One didn’t tolerate gluten or dairy. Another didn’t eat meat or meat products. A third, I only learned by observation, avoids shellfish. Jesus! The mishap was that my Blomberg gas range, apparently an expensive one, has a malfunctioning thermostat. 350F on the dial is, by the oven thermometer, 300F. After discovering that, I turned it up to 400F. It reached 325F. The outcome was that, since we all had to leave for the theatre at 7PM, I had to serve it prematurely. The periphery was reasonable cooked but the center was not. We drank lots of wine and had lively conversation. The paella did look spectacular, however, and what’s left is terrific if microwaved in portions for 5 minutes. George’s Test Kitchen: Paella Valenciana (with modifications) ver. 1A.
I am about to go for coffee and a walk with a friend. There are 4 inches on the ground and it is snowing like crazy. I totally love it!! The aesthetic experience of watching and walking in a serious snowfall is glorious!
I hope all of you in Northern California are staying dry and avoiding mudslides.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 