October 2, 2016 - Saturday

50 degrees/broken overcast/calm winds

Pentoga Road

I was relaxing in front of the barn Saturday afternoon when I heard, rather than saw, a frantic whirring followed by a light weight on my crossed leg. I instantly knew it was Jimmy the Chickadee who'd come home to roost.

He greeted me with a chirp, then promptly marched up my leg, continued across my belly, up my chest, and after brushing by my face, stopped on my shoulder demanding sunflower seeds. I eventually retrieved a handful to restore peace and quiet. The half pint chickadee was content to sit on my shoulder and eat, his feathers occasionally tickling my face and ear. 

It was good to see my old feathered friend. Jimmy and I hang out from October until the following May of each year and when he leaves in the spring, I wonder if I'll ever see him again. Though the Black Capped Chickadee can live for over a decade, Jimmy and I have already have a five year history. I like to think he was a youngster when we first met. 

Being adopted by a chickadee isn't without it's disadvantages. Jimmy has displayed some jealous tendencies, mostly towards Brutus, who could care less. He's landed on Brutus's back, his head, and even on his tail, chirping in an attempt to scare him into submission. The bulldog could care less. 

Jimmy's not slow in demanding attention, affection, or sunflower seeds. If I ignore him, he'll flutter around or land on my head in an attempt to batter me senselessly with his three inch wings. 

Over the years, Jimmy has become adept at nosing (beaking?) his way into my pockets looking for a snack. Last year, I was backing out of the drive when I discovered I had a bird in the pocket of my jacket. He's even been known to hitch a ride on my shoulder into the house... and back out just as quickly.

It's said the best things in life come in small packages. In Jimmy's case, it's a half an ounce of pure love and friendship. Welcome back, little buddy.

After the usual hike on Saturday morning, I installed the trim around the new kitchen door and mounted the wooden screen door.

I'm going to have to buy a new screen door next spring. The current one, an aging relic, is difficult to keep square, even with an adjusting rod. I think the door has banged shut a few too many times.

It took a while to put away all the tools used from Friday's installation. I think I had half the tools from the shop in the garage and am grateful that I have the little blue four-wheeler to serve as a mini pickup truck in which to haul everything.

The remainder of the day was very lazy. I dug some fishing worms and tiptoed outside after dark last night to pick up a few night crawlers. 

Potatoes were harvested from two pots, all Pontiac Reds. Those will be dropped off at Yooper Brother Mark and Sheri's when we go to town later today.

Sargie was home early last night and we had a quiet evening. She was a tired girl and fought to keep her eyes open long before bedtime.

One of the last doubled ruffled petunias I grew from seed early last spring. 

Sargie has today off. We've talked about going fishing and I told her I would sweep and vacuum all the floors and steps in the house. Other than a ride into town, I'd say anything is fair game.

Coffee's done. It's time to get this show on the road.

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...

Brutus was having a difficult time keeping his eyes open while waiting for me to go to bed. He's been known to topple over after falling sound asleep in a sitting position.