After making a WiFi symbol in the snow by opening the gate to the ditch, it reminded me of my mispent youth back in the 20th century, when us boys peed our names in the snow, while the girls made snow angels. Any of us whose snow monikers were in our girlfriends’ handwriting were like super groovy back then. A snow WiFi symbol seems fitting for our 21st-century tech.
Sandias at noon
Sandias at 1:00 pm
Spunk in the catio
Silly Spunk
This is the best tree when it snows
Laurie got Jake happily running in the snow.
GIF by Laurie
While Jakes was out running around, the cats lined up on the bed to nap, with the odd cat out.
I’ve read forecasts for snow and cold all over the country, and we are forecast to get some of it. We really need any precipitation we can get, so I’m not going to complain. And while it’s been cold here, our cold has been nothing compared to the reports from the Midwest and Canada.
Did you say Snow?
Silver, Marble, and I are relaxing in front of the fire.
Quintin & Cruella de Quill watching the colors at dawn
Cruella: “Hey Quintin! It looks like a pathetic paparazzo is pestering us poor porcupines.” Quintin: “It seems that way, doesn’t it!” Cruella: “He can’t leave a pair of porcupines in peace to enjoy the colorful dawn.” Quintin: “A paparazzo with no regard for porcupine privacy!” Cruella: “So? What are you going to do about him?” Quintin: “Uhhh! Like what can I do about him?” Cruella: “Throw some quills at him! Poof up and act scary like you’re going to attack him, or something!” Quintin: “You know I can’t throw quills…” Cruella: “Yeah! But that pesky paparazzo might not know that. Humans believe we can throw our quills at them.” Quintin: “Il paparazzo is unphased by those tactics!” Cruella: “You’re going to have to hit him with the heavy artillery! Quintin: “Nooo! You don’t mean…” Cruella: “Yes, I do… Set up him the stink bomb!*”
*Cruella de Quill’s weird grammar in her last statement is based on a bad translation of an old Japanese video game. When poofing violently, like they are going to throw their quills, doesn’t phase pesky paparazzi predators, porcupines will drop powerful stink bombs trying to keep predatory paparazzi at bay.
Cats: “Cheese is always a mystery!” Paparazzo: “As mysterious as cheese is to you cats, cheese is not the mystery.”
Jake and I ventured off down another coyote trail. We went as far as we could go and discovered a pair of shovels.
Cats: “Not a pair of shovels! Those shovels are not what one would use in a kitty litter box. Where do you think the body is buried?” Paparazzo: “Good question, kitties. I was asking myself the same question.”
“Don’t look at me! I had nothing to do with it.”
“Those are suspicious-looking ‘Hightops’!”
“I saw no evil. Heard no evil, and I don’t give a bloody hoot about no buried bodies or stinking evil!”
“We’re with you, Daddy Owl! Who has time to give a bloody hoot about another stinking shovel mystery?”
Jake and I stood on the edge of the river at twighlight and watched the Sliver Moon rise this morning.
The Sliver Moon did not get to rise very high before it was swallowed by Dawn.
Osric Owl. Nora and Osric
Cranetrail
Quite A Surprise
After we came home last night, I opened the door to the bedroom and there was a bird flying around in the dark. Before I could turn on the bedroom light, it flew into the bathroom. When I turned on the light in the bathroom, it was a Western Screech Owl.
I offered my hand like I do to our birds, and told him to step up. He stepped up onto my hand with his sharp claws and iron grip. I lifted him up and he hopped over to the towel rack where we photographed him. I stroked his feathers behind his head while I talked to him, and then checked to see if he was injured. He did not seem to be injured, so I put on a glove and tried to get him to step onto my gloved hand so I could take him outside and let him go. He did not like the glove, and bit it while he held tightly onto the towel rack. I finally got him into a sweater box, covered it with the towel, and took him outside to let him go. He refused to fly out of the box, so I offered my hand, he stepped up on it, I lifted him toward the sky, ad he flew off.
It’s a real mystery how he got into our bedroom. He had to get on the deck, which he could through the 4-inch vents near the top of the roof. Then he would have to get through two cat doors to get to the bedroom. Even though screech owls are small, I believe he is too large for a cat to carry in through the cat doors without the cat getting injured by the owl’s sharp claws and iron grip, and the owl getting injured by the cat.
I think like Spunk disappearing for a month, Sasquatch and the scoop shovel, the Screech Owl in the bedroom will remain a mystery.
Screechy is a handsome little guy. Not happy with il paparazzo taking pics of him.
Laurie’s GIF gives you a sense of scale. He is full grown. He started to relax and closed one eye while I stroked him.
Off Center & Not Even 