Squirrel Wars

 Cute little gray squirrels are the oppressed minority on the mesa.

 

I guess no matter where you go, there are squirrels to provide comic relief. We have two species here in Texas- red and gray, and both are amazing athletes, able to hang by their toes while stuffing themselves, as they constantly try to decimate the bird seed supply. 

 The mature red squirrels can wipe out a bird feeder in a few hours.

We decided to try and slow them down... and give the birds a chance, so we purchased a couple of different “squirrel-proof” bird feeders. Both automatically close off the feeding ports whenever a squirrel puts his weight on the feeder. They may only slow the little buggers down, but they have finally stumped them over time because squirrels are extremely impatient. They try to stick their hand into the contraptions and manage to get a few crumbs, but the progress is too sporadic to satisfy them. Sometimes they have to go rest and get their nerve up, then try again.

 This split-eared old red battler gets so mad he gets depressed.

Part of their challenge is the red ones are always chasing off the gray ones in an ancient blood feud, which drains them of energy but sure helps prevent gluttony. The little gray ones are very cute, and seem to only come out when the coast is clear, cramming in as much seed as they can before the big red bullies show up.

 Gray Squirrel has learned to stop, look and listen.

Anyway, after the “squirrel proof” feeders began to take effect, we began to feel sorry for the little guys, even the red ones, and bought some squirrel food, consisting mostly of corn, and hung that out as a peace offering. The squirrel food comes with an occasional peanut here and there, and they clog the feeders. So now the squirrels are more trouble than they ever were. BUT now there is relative peace in the valley. The birds can feed in peace but the red vs. gray skirmishes continue.

Here is a little video featuring the  change to the "squirrel proof" bird feeders.

During the rain some kind of predator... perhaps a cat or fox, came up on the porch and tried to snatch one of my furry comedians as it fed on one of the bird feeders which I had taken in out of the rain. There were muddy paw prints all over the porch, but I did not see any blood. Mr. Squirrel was almost too smart for his own britches, as they used to say. I found myself angry with the carnivore who caused such a near tragedy... and had to remind myself, these are not pets. Our back yard is WILD KINGDOM!

Yes, I see a moral to this little observance. When I was a kid, we used to torment the squirrels by wiring pecans to the boughs of the Chinese Tallow tree in our back yard. The unsuspecting squirrels would zip down the tree, grab the pecan in their mouth, and then instantly zip back up- as the well-bound pecan ripped out of their mouth. That had to hurt. Over and over. The squirrels would tug and bark furiously at the confounded uncooperative pecans. It was great fun to watch them go ballistic trying to get the tempting nuts, which sat low on the tree and a little too close to us for their comfort. But the squirrels would not be bested. They would keep returning, and eventually chew them free, and go to the very top of the tree to enjoy their prize...

And we would tie on another one!

It was great. So to I will be paying restitution for the rest of my life, picking peanuts out of the corn barrel, refilling the squirrel feeder every morning, trying to make up for my fun at that poor squirrel's expense. Thinking about those days, I still get a chuckle. So I guess it was worth it!

Just and Unjust.

We have these HUGE white-winged doves here on the mesa. About a dozen of them hang around daily and gorge themselves. At least the other birds come and go... you know, sort of look busy. But the doves just eat and eat and eat. Except when it rains. But they don't go far.

They look so pitiful, hanging on their wet perches like lumps of wet seaweed. So sad and dependent and unproductive. I had to remind myself they would soon be leaving... to join their dove brethren in great flocks to fly across South Texas grain fields so they can get SHOT TO HELL. It won't be long until Texas dove season. 

Only a handful will return next spring. Anyway those sad, drenched, condemned birds seemed to take the form of a sermon illustration...

It says in the Bible that it rains on the just and the unjust. Now rain can be a good thing or it can be a bad thing... depending on your situation. Farmers in the Holy Land during biblical times probably thought rain was a very good thing. But it says that the "unjust," in our modern lingo meaning bad people, get rain right along with the good people. In other words, life is not fair.

Sweet fat doves get "harvested"... some of them, and some make it to Mexico. Bad things might happen to good people, and good things might happen to bad people. Those who look for, or expect justice in this life are more than likely going to be disappointed. 

We who follow Christ trust that our Creator has His reasons... and He will distribute ultimate "Justice" in good time. Those who cannot trust in a Holy and Just God are doomed to the worst scenario possible, since life is not fair; no justice now, but justice for their God-rejecting soul for Eternity. 

And that would mean separation forever from the Creator of this magnificent Earth, the giver of all good things... our very lives... Nature... love... the rain... To me that makes even Texas heat sound good. But this brings us to Hell, whatever that means, all because of a human miscalculation. Jesus referred to it as "Gehenna," known then as a local garbage dump... but in his metaphor, for souls.  On the surface, to our limited and mortal intellects, this seems so unjust... but if Jesus was speaking of a real spiritual destination, it is the determined, half-baked choice of millions.

 The Apostle Paul wrote that Nature itself was sufficient evidence of a benevolent God. And I concur.

Still, some are staking their whole Eternity on Paul, not to mention Jesus, and all his billions of followers, being wrong. After TWO THOUSAND years of sun and rain on this earth, with so many millions of followers from all over the globe worshiping this God who made extraordinary measures to facilitate our fellowship with Him... FOREVER, still they turn their nose up because He has, in their estimation failed to either prove Himself, or earn their Faith and obedience. Yet no philosophers or great teachers have ever proven that the God of the Bible or Jesus were just a myth. Quite the opposite.

"Unbelievers" see an unjust earth, condemn any god who would allow that, second-guess Him who set the stars into motion, and choose Hell... out of insolence. They are those hapless, for the most part harmless, innocent birds, animals gorging themselves, following their instincts... to certain destruction. 

These "birds" pretty much live a hedonist lifestyle... exploring anything that could be judged as NOT-God; grasping for the fullness of human existence, pleasing their own idea of life... and fashioning their own concept of a personal legacy. And their own idea of justice. They spend their lives trusting in themselves, asking for no mercy and giving little, making sure they get all they can out of the only life they know... the one they live. They don't want a God any greater than their own conscience, and refuse that one even exists, or that anyone knows what is true. They are quite content with the now, no God above, no afterlife.

Jesus promised, "Seek and you will find"

And in the end, these sad, willful atheists will get all of that which they have sought. And that will be justice.

Always... the rains finally come

Rain over the Lake Belton area.

It seems every summer we suffer a drought and wonder how our plants will survive. And some don't.  But always a rain comes, and keeps the Earth green and replenishes her reserves. The Earth is a timeless organism, that has managed to provide a beautiful and fairly generous home to mankind. And rather than random physics or geology, many of us discern a mighty hand of genius at the helm of this incredible world and its biodiversity... and most importantly, its balance and longevity.

Everyone needs a safe place.

Everyone needs a safe place, a place where they can hear themselves think. A place where their voice is more than just a sound- where they are truly heard. Grace Mesa is that place for me. Where, if I ran the world, this is what it would be like.

The Proverbial Empty Nesters.

It has happened before that my fascination with birds has launched a blog... and this blog will be no exception. The whole Grace Mesa thing is really about how God so faithfully cares for us, and there is no better illustration of this theme than this little slice of our daily bird watch.

After the neighborhood birds began to recognize our place as a reliable source of food and water, soon representatives of the various Hill Country bird species began to honor us with the status of bird day-care center. Most thrilling, besides the presence of so many young birds, just learning how to fly, how to fend for themselves, how to SURVIVE, was watching the Cardinals raise their young.

First of all, the baby cardinals are... well, babies only a mother could love. They are sooty-beaked, patchy and scruffy, and their head feathers stand straight up as if there are all running for Indian Chief. They are charmingly ugly and ridiculous. This must be to confound predators into thinking they are some kind dangerous species, not to be messed with. But the fact is they are just gangling adolescent brats, totally spoiled and dependent on their meals being delivered regularly.

But here is the interesting thing, like the intrepid Emperor Penguins of the far north, the cardinal father plays an indispensable role in the daily care of his offspring. And this is very necessary, as Mrs. Cardinal has raised a bunch of needy crybabies who refuse to grow up.

 Cardinal fathers as a rule are much more devoted and useful than most human fathers. 

Each morning Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal bring their more manageable youth to the feeders, where they are carefully monitored. The babes just stand there, waiting. Surely someone will bring some food shortly. The parents watch out of sight, waiting for them to try to feed themselves. But the rotten little things just look at each other, barely taking a step, and peck randomly, as if they do not know that they are standing right on top of a pile of breakfast. The young cardinals can fly, hop, fight, whatever, but they apparently cannot feed themselves.

Finally one of the devoted parents will flit down and pick up a seed, and approach one of them. Now it is time for the young cardinal to put on his best act, the most pitiful flapping and shaking he can muster, as if to day, Oh God, I am dying here, somebody feed me. This seems to work every time.

 Here stupid!

The parent cardinals are the living embodiment of the phrase “helicopter parents.” They put the kids out, as if to set them on their own, but then cannot stand if one of them is the least bit inconvenienced. It's very cute, and reminded me of human children. They want to grow up, be independent, avoid parental oversight, and even refuse criticism, but are often slow to really fend for themselves. It's fun to play baby. A long as mom and dad go along. 

 

 And these parents make humans look lame, as they go out on a limb to spoil their helpless flock.

The cardinal babies are experts at managing their parents, making demands so constant the parent birds have little time for themselves, and keeping them busy for weeks as the young ones mature. And they are in no hurry. After all, what else do mom and dad have to do?

 It was birds, not humans who invented the “empty nest” syndrome, and cardinals who perfected the procrastination of it.

 You can't blame me!