Stephen King used the line that I've used as today's title in his book, "It". The line is used by therapists to help children with lisping issues, or with stuttering issues as a little practice line.
This line, as well as Ozzy Osbourne's tune "Crazy Train", have been running through my head laely in reference to my daughter's cat, who is living with us temporarily while his "human mama" gets some issues in her life straightened out so that she can get them a new place to live.....
But let me explain what this has to do with a half Bengal/half Maine Coon cat.
In the state of Maine, as in most of the states in the Northern United States, we have a lot of creatures that migrate each year. For example, each fall, there are the massive flying "v" formations of Canadian geese that head south, and then, at this time of year, one can be outside and hear the distance honking of the geese heading back into the north country for the summer. The bird feeder in my back yard, which has mostly been visited by chickadee, blue jay and the occasional cardinal, is suddenly inundated with dozens of bird breeds, all flying in for a mouthful of seeds that they then take off to nests among the trees that flank the yard.
Meeko, being a typical cat, loves to watch my bird feeder, sometimes getting so excited by all the activity that he has to race from window to window, trying to figure out how to get out there and get a nice bird for dinner, since he isn't allowed outside unless he's on a harness with a leash. The thundering sounds he makes as he runs from room to room, leaping onto the window sills, has made me joke about him being "the conductor of the Cruzy Train"....
The past couple of weeks, the Crazy Train has been making a daily run, courtesy of a certain little bird, whom I happened to catch right outside my front window, where my husband left a ladder for climbing up onto the porch roof to shovel off the snow....
Now, this little one isn't the first woodpecker I've ever had near my home. Most of the time, in order to get photos of them, I'm creeping around the yard, listening for the distinctive "rat-a-tat-tat" in the trees. In the older farmhouse we moved into in 1998, it hasn't been unusual for me to get a photo or two of a woodpecker, quite possibly this same one, putting little holes in the wooden siding on the house to collect bugs. It was the persistence of the woodpecker working at a particular spot on our roof that made my husband realize how bad the old shingles were a couple of seasons back, and he has replaced a portion of those rotting shingles (and the supporting wood underneath the shingles as well) with new plywood and metal roofing that has resulted in him being able to spend less time outside each winter pushing the snow off the roof, as the metal warms up when the sun comes out after a storm and, with a rumble like an avalanche in the mountains, much of the snow now slides off the roof and onto the ground, preventing further damage to the roof. (We still have some sections that we need to pull off the old shingles and replace with metal, thus the reason that there's a ladder propped against the front porch right now.....)
It wasn't until the first year with the metal roof that we noticed an interesting behavior pattern emerging with our little red-headed friend. It seems that woodpeckers, to draw a mate, will try to find the most hollow tree to make the largest amount of noise, thereby calling to the females from a distance away. It's like the louder the noise, the more apt the handsome male is to draw the most beautiful female, as she's going to be drawn to the sound that will indicate that he's the best provider in the area. I have friends who have noticed that the woodpeckers in their areas will find a piece of metal on a chimney to hammer on so that they are the woodpeckerr making the loudest noises and thereby drawing the mates from the furthest away. We noticed this phenomenon with the metal roofing and our little friend over the past two years.....
And this year, it's almost as if the metal ladder, less than three feet from a new front window that has a very interested cat sitting on a chair, is somehow proving that my little red-headed friend is the bravest of all the male woodpeckers who live nearby.
Each day, at some point, there is the distinctive "pimg-ping-ping" of the woodpecker tapping on the ladder. The conductor of the Crazy Train calls "All aboard" in his squeeky excited little kitten voice, and then the thundering sounds of the train echo through the house. If one is paying attention, there is a certain point in time when a prudent side step will avoid a head-on collision with the speeding locomotive. The dog still hasn't causght on to what that sound means, so there is often a squeak as the train passes a certain station and the dog gets cuffed out of the way. Then the thudding noise as the train pulls into the station on the chair, skidding to a forced stop against the window.
Yesterday, while hanging laundry on the line on the porch, expecting that the Crazy Train wouldn't be running until well after I had put my clothing out to pick up the marvelous fresh scent of a slightly damp spring day, I discovered that I've become part of the "I'm braver than the average bird" game. Half-way done, I heard a ruffle of feathers followed by the "ping-ping". Two steps to one side and a glance down showed me the little feather-brain tapping away on the ladder, and a glance to one side showed me a very hopeful cat face peering out, his green eyes going from me to the bird and back to me. I could almost feel the encouraging thoughts, urging me to just move quietly and carefully to reach down, extend my claws, and catch dinner for my furry little grandson.
I suck at being a cat.
My "prey" looked up, got a very startled look on his little birdy face, and flew off to the rotting oak tree next to the road, where he found a nice hollow branch to continue making his loud noises to attract a mate.
Meeko, not impressed with my hunting skills, is still giving me an assessing look this morning that tells me that I really suck at being a cat, and he's not at all impressed with me thrusting against the ladder, trying to get it to move from the spot that it's been sitting for so long that the base has sunk into the soft spring soil....
And my little "ghost" keeps coming back to haunt and taunt both Meeko and I.
Hopefully, though, the appointment with the doctor in an hour will allow me to return to work, getting me away from my ghost......and the Crazy Train......and the accusing eyes of the train's conductor, who keeps insisting that he prefers fish over chicken, but he WOULD take that little red-headed "chicken" that keeps making him crazy.......
This line, as well as Ozzy Osbourne's tune "Crazy Train", have been running through my head laely in reference to my daughter's cat, who is living with us temporarily while his "human mama" gets some issues in her life straightened out so that she can get them a new place to live.....
But let me explain what this has to do with a half Bengal/half Maine Coon cat.
In the state of Maine, as in most of the states in the Northern United States, we have a lot of creatures that migrate each year. For example, each fall, there are the massive flying "v" formations of Canadian geese that head south, and then, at this time of year, one can be outside and hear the distance honking of the geese heading back into the north country for the summer. The bird feeder in my back yard, which has mostly been visited by chickadee, blue jay and the occasional cardinal, is suddenly inundated with dozens of bird breeds, all flying in for a mouthful of seeds that they then take off to nests among the trees that flank the yard.
Meeko, being a typical cat, loves to watch my bird feeder, sometimes getting so excited by all the activity that he has to race from window to window, trying to figure out how to get out there and get a nice bird for dinner, since he isn't allowed outside unless he's on a harness with a leash. The thundering sounds he makes as he runs from room to room, leaping onto the window sills, has made me joke about him being "the conductor of the Cruzy Train"....
The past couple of weeks, the Crazy Train has been making a daily run, courtesy of a certain little bird, whom I happened to catch right outside my front window, where my husband left a ladder for climbing up onto the porch roof to shovel off the snow....
Now, this little one isn't the first woodpecker I've ever had near my home. Most of the time, in order to get photos of them, I'm creeping around the yard, listening for the distinctive "rat-a-tat-tat" in the trees. In the older farmhouse we moved into in 1998, it hasn't been unusual for me to get a photo or two of a woodpecker, quite possibly this same one, putting little holes in the wooden siding on the house to collect bugs. It was the persistence of the woodpecker working at a particular spot on our roof that made my husband realize how bad the old shingles were a couple of seasons back, and he has replaced a portion of those rotting shingles (and the supporting wood underneath the shingles as well) with new plywood and metal roofing that has resulted in him being able to spend less time outside each winter pushing the snow off the roof, as the metal warms up when the sun comes out after a storm and, with a rumble like an avalanche in the mountains, much of the snow now slides off the roof and onto the ground, preventing further damage to the roof. (We still have some sections that we need to pull off the old shingles and replace with metal, thus the reason that there's a ladder propped against the front porch right now.....)
It wasn't until the first year with the metal roof that we noticed an interesting behavior pattern emerging with our little red-headed friend. It seems that woodpeckers, to draw a mate, will try to find the most hollow tree to make the largest amount of noise, thereby calling to the females from a distance away. It's like the louder the noise, the more apt the handsome male is to draw the most beautiful female, as she's going to be drawn to the sound that will indicate that he's the best provider in the area. I have friends who have noticed that the woodpeckers in their areas will find a piece of metal on a chimney to hammer on so that they are the woodpeckerr making the loudest noises and thereby drawing the mates from the furthest away. We noticed this phenomenon with the metal roofing and our little friend over the past two years.....
And this year, it's almost as if the metal ladder, less than three feet from a new front window that has a very interested cat sitting on a chair, is somehow proving that my little red-headed friend is the bravest of all the male woodpeckers who live nearby.
Each day, at some point, there is the distinctive "pimg-ping-ping" of the woodpecker tapping on the ladder. The conductor of the Crazy Train calls "All aboard" in his squeeky excited little kitten voice, and then the thundering sounds of the train echo through the house. If one is paying attention, there is a certain point in time when a prudent side step will avoid a head-on collision with the speeding locomotive. The dog still hasn't causght on to what that sound means, so there is often a squeak as the train passes a certain station and the dog gets cuffed out of the way. Then the thudding noise as the train pulls into the station on the chair, skidding to a forced stop against the window.
Yesterday, while hanging laundry on the line on the porch, expecting that the Crazy Train wouldn't be running until well after I had put my clothing out to pick up the marvelous fresh scent of a slightly damp spring day, I discovered that I've become part of the "I'm braver than the average bird" game. Half-way done, I heard a ruffle of feathers followed by the "ping-ping". Two steps to one side and a glance down showed me the little feather-brain tapping away on the ladder, and a glance to one side showed me a very hopeful cat face peering out, his green eyes going from me to the bird and back to me. I could almost feel the encouraging thoughts, urging me to just move quietly and carefully to reach down, extend my claws, and catch dinner for my furry little grandson.
I suck at being a cat.
My "prey" looked up, got a very startled look on his little birdy face, and flew off to the rotting oak tree next to the road, where he found a nice hollow branch to continue making his loud noises to attract a mate.
Meeko, not impressed with my hunting skills, is still giving me an assessing look this morning that tells me that I really suck at being a cat, and he's not at all impressed with me thrusting against the ladder, trying to get it to move from the spot that it's been sitting for so long that the base has sunk into the soft spring soil....
And my little "ghost" keeps coming back to haunt and taunt both Meeko and I.
Hopefully, though, the appointment with the doctor in an hour will allow me to return to work, getting me away from my ghost......and the Crazy Train......and the accusing eyes of the train's conductor, who keeps insisting that he prefers fish over chicken, but he WOULD take that little red-headed "chicken" that keeps making him crazy.......
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