Though neither a birder or artist, Antranik's artsy hobby reminded me warmly of a favorite story involving my deceased parents and a young, very literal, me. Faced with the daunting challenge of putting pencil to paper and drawing a reasonable facsimile of a prehistoric creature for a 3rd grade school project, I asked my dad if he was able to draw one. Before my dad could answer, my mom quickly interjected that the only thing my dad could draw was flies. Duly impressed that my father was able to recreate the intricate details of a common housefly - the multifaceted eyes and delicate wing structures - I proceeded to boast to all of my friends and my 3rd grade teacher Ms. Givens the following day of my dad's unique and very specific artistic talent. It wasn't until years later when I discovered sarcasm that my mom's sense of humor revealed the true intent of her repartee. My parents and I shared a good laugh when I subsequently revealed to them that I had regaled my 3rd grade teacher and anyone else within earshot at Edgewood Elementary of my dad's gift. Thanks for conjuring a great memory Antranik!
medium at baseball... zing! Mr. Offerman, please forgive me for I am not the link-spamming type whatsoever. But today I make an exception for your pleasure if you please. Apropos of your professed affinity for all things baseball, I can only assume this fake baseball pod from my friend Mr. King would be right up your alley, or right down the middle as it were.
Northwoods Baseball Sleep Radio - Fake Baseball for Sleeping
Mr. King
It's a fake baseball game (an entire game) for sleeping or relaxation! No yelling, no loud commercials, just a sleepy small-town ballgame over an AM radio. ///// Produced by: Mr. King ///// WSLP Producers: Philip T. Hunter, Corrbette Pasko ///// Website: http://www.sleepbaseball.com ///// Fan Mail: northwoodsbaseball@gmail.com
Thank you, Nick. This was by far my favorite installment of Donkey Thoughts to date. If you don’t mind, I would like to share with you my connection and reason for today’s personal enjoyment.
Several years ago, as a naive half-boy/half-man, I purchased my first home in an attempt to “get with the times” and/or “grow up.” The property was settled on a cul-de-sac near the back of the neighborhood, no more than a football field’s distance from a nearby creek. This home had neighbors to both sides, but the backyard abutted to a tall, relatively deep forest which provided shade to the aforementioned creek, and even parts of my own backyard.
As inferred above, I was a dumb kid at the time, naively trying to prove to everyone else how accomplished I was for becoming a homeowner. And I knew that as soon as I got the keys, I would turn that place into one badass bachelor pad.
I purchased the home from an elderly couple which I had the pleasure of meeting at the closing. As I prepared to leave the closing attorney’s conference room, I thanked the couple for selecting my offer and allowing me the opportunity to take a significant step in my life. As I walked out the door, the seller said very enthusiastically “don’t forget about the birds!” I looked back, smiled, and thanked her again, then went straight to my new place to start making it my own.
Her comments did not click for me at the time, but when I returned to my new home, big chested, full of piss and vinegar, I noticed several bird feeders, bird houses, and bird baths had been left behind. It all made sense. “Don’t forget about the birds.” However…
As a dumb, stubborn individual, excited to turn this place into something newer and more fitting of my style (to this day, I still have no “style”), I unceremoniously discarded the materials left in my yard not for me, but for the birds…
Fast forward about a year: I began a new job working from one of my spare bedrooms which was converted into an office. It wasn’t until this time did I fully understand what this woman meant by “don’t forget about the birds.”
There were entire work days wasted and my production significantly slowed down at times because I would find myself staring out into my backyard in awe of the natural beauty that was always there. Whether it was birds, deer, squirrels, rabbits, even snakes, I was captivated by how much activity went on in my very own yard.
The birds, however, were always the stars. I would frequently wake up to northern cardinals chirping outside my bedroom window. Red headed woodpeckers would be knocking away at the trees out in the forest (or my wooden fence posts). I would see the occasional hummingbirds, and blue jays, and even red tail hawks would swoop through my backyard. One day alone, I counted 22 separate species of birds that I had seen in and around my yard. This discovery accidentally became one of my favorite hobbies, even to this day.
I have enjoyed this hobby because, like you, I find ways to associate the various birds’ presence with some type of spiritual/religious/native guidance, or proof of my good fortune in life. Even though each species has its own supernatural qualities, they are all great reminders of how beautiful nature really is when you just look outside.
I’ll never forget about the birds ever again. Thank you for sharing your story, Nick.
P.S.: thank you for also turning me on to Lagavulin whisky. I believe that was the moment I truly “grew up”. Cheers.
Hi, Nick--thanks so much for answering my question! It was a real treat to open up the Donkey Thoughts email this morning and find that you had. You made my day. Those owls you have sound incredible! I keep hoping to see more owls around, but I rarely happen on them. I've put my recent bird drawings on my Instagram, should you or anyone else here feel like checking them out; you can find me with the username @skullwingdoors . Many thanks again!
Here in New England, and probably at many other places, the Canada Jay or Gray Jay is a very cool and friendly bird. Usually, when hiking and getting to tree line (3-4,000 feet) that Jay will appear. Put a little GORP in your hand (or on your head) and it will fly down, land on your palm (or skull) and enjoy the treat. Very cool.
Though neither a birder or artist, Antranik's artsy hobby reminded me warmly of a favorite story involving my deceased parents and a young, very literal, me. Faced with the daunting challenge of putting pencil to paper and drawing a reasonable facsimile of a prehistoric creature for a 3rd grade school project, I asked my dad if he was able to draw one. Before my dad could answer, my mom quickly interjected that the only thing my dad could draw was flies. Duly impressed that my father was able to recreate the intricate details of a common housefly - the multifaceted eyes and delicate wing structures - I proceeded to boast to all of my friends and my 3rd grade teacher Ms. Givens the following day of my dad's unique and very specific artistic talent. It wasn't until years later when I discovered sarcasm that my mom's sense of humor revealed the true intent of her repartee. My parents and I shared a good laugh when I subsequently revealed to them that I had regaled my 3rd grade teacher and anyone else within earshot at Edgewood Elementary of my dad's gift. Thanks for conjuring a great memory Antranik!
Haha! Thanks so much for sharing that great story, Bob!
medium at baseball... zing! Mr. Offerman, please forgive me for I am not the link-spamming type whatsoever. But today I make an exception for your pleasure if you please. Apropos of your professed affinity for all things baseball, I can only assume this fake baseball pod from my friend Mr. King would be right up your alley, or right down the middle as it were.
Northwoods Baseball Sleep Radio - Fake Baseball for Sleeping
Mr. King
It's a fake baseball game (an entire game) for sleeping or relaxation! No yelling, no loud commercials, just a sleepy small-town ballgame over an AM radio. ///// Produced by: Mr. King ///// WSLP Producers: Philip T. Hunter, Corrbette Pasko ///// Website: http://www.sleepbaseball.com ///// Fan Mail: northwoodsbaseball@gmail.com
Listen on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/northwoods-baseball-sleep-radio-fake-baseball-for-sleeping/id1603912731
Thank you, Nick. This was by far my favorite installment of Donkey Thoughts to date. If you don’t mind, I would like to share with you my connection and reason for today’s personal enjoyment.
Several years ago, as a naive half-boy/half-man, I purchased my first home in an attempt to “get with the times” and/or “grow up.” The property was settled on a cul-de-sac near the back of the neighborhood, no more than a football field’s distance from a nearby creek. This home had neighbors to both sides, but the backyard abutted to a tall, relatively deep forest which provided shade to the aforementioned creek, and even parts of my own backyard.
As inferred above, I was a dumb kid at the time, naively trying to prove to everyone else how accomplished I was for becoming a homeowner. And I knew that as soon as I got the keys, I would turn that place into one badass bachelor pad.
I purchased the home from an elderly couple which I had the pleasure of meeting at the closing. As I prepared to leave the closing attorney’s conference room, I thanked the couple for selecting my offer and allowing me the opportunity to take a significant step in my life. As I walked out the door, the seller said very enthusiastically “don’t forget about the birds!” I looked back, smiled, and thanked her again, then went straight to my new place to start making it my own.
Her comments did not click for me at the time, but when I returned to my new home, big chested, full of piss and vinegar, I noticed several bird feeders, bird houses, and bird baths had been left behind. It all made sense. “Don’t forget about the birds.” However…
As a dumb, stubborn individual, excited to turn this place into something newer and more fitting of my style (to this day, I still have no “style”), I unceremoniously discarded the materials left in my yard not for me, but for the birds…
Fast forward about a year: I began a new job working from one of my spare bedrooms which was converted into an office. It wasn’t until this time did I fully understand what this woman meant by “don’t forget about the birds.”
There were entire work days wasted and my production significantly slowed down at times because I would find myself staring out into my backyard in awe of the natural beauty that was always there. Whether it was birds, deer, squirrels, rabbits, even snakes, I was captivated by how much activity went on in my very own yard.
The birds, however, were always the stars. I would frequently wake up to northern cardinals chirping outside my bedroom window. Red headed woodpeckers would be knocking away at the trees out in the forest (or my wooden fence posts). I would see the occasional hummingbirds, and blue jays, and even red tail hawks would swoop through my backyard. One day alone, I counted 22 separate species of birds that I had seen in and around my yard. This discovery accidentally became one of my favorite hobbies, even to this day.
I have enjoyed this hobby because, like you, I find ways to associate the various birds’ presence with some type of spiritual/religious/native guidance, or proof of my good fortune in life. Even though each species has its own supernatural qualities, they are all great reminders of how beautiful nature really is when you just look outside.
I’ll never forget about the birds ever again. Thank you for sharing your story, Nick.
P.S.: thank you for also turning me on to Lagavulin whisky. I believe that was the moment I truly “grew up”. Cheers.
- JB
Hi, Nick--thanks so much for answering my question! It was a real treat to open up the Donkey Thoughts email this morning and find that you had. You made my day. Those owls you have sound incredible! I keep hoping to see more owls around, but I rarely happen on them. I've put my recent bird drawings on my Instagram, should you or anyone else here feel like checking them out; you can find me with the username @skullwingdoors . Many thanks again!
Here in New England, and probably at many other places, the Canada Jay or Gray Jay is a very cool and friendly bird. Usually, when hiking and getting to tree line (3-4,000 feet) that Jay will appear. Put a little GORP in your hand (or on your head) and it will fly down, land on your palm (or skull) and enjoy the treat. Very cool.