Sorry about the silence. Odd thing: As a result of my (I think) growing absent-mindedness, it turned out that my flight was on Sunday night and not on Saturday night (as I thought when I did the previous post), so I suddenly had an unplanned 24 hours on my hands in Aspen.
I decided to spend the extra day lying low getting some work done – various things I thought would get undone on this trip suddenly had another chance to get done! Mostly administrative stuff. It is amazing how much one can get done when there’s a whole extra day suddenly appearing in your schedule, and so that’s what I worked on.
One thing I could have done was reminded you that the Phoenix was due to launch Saturday, and indeed it did! Be sure to check out a post about it on the Bad Astronomer with some links to really nice launch videos. The Phoenix mission plans rather wonderful things when the craft gets to Mars (including making the old reverse-thrust landing maneuver vogue again), as you can learn from their site.
Today, Monday, saw me running errands. Boring things, really. Things you do after being away from the nest for three weeks. Anyway, I’m trying to get to used to all the extra oxygen, and the unbelievable dryness. There’s still been no rain. I will miss the daily downpours and thunderstorms of Aspen. This leads me to the garden report. Nothing to say except that there’s been a bit of loss – the relentless sun and dryness took its toll on all my squash plants, and two of my tomato plants – and lots of cobwebs and general detritus everywhere. A lot of work to be done, all over again. Ah, the never-ending cycle that is gardening…
More interestingly, and speaking of nests, a pair of ground doves decided to make a nest in my camellia bush right in the back garden. They must have taken a look at the mess of a garden and thought that it was clearly abandoned. It must have seemed like a prime spot. I’m not sure what to do now. My every movement in the back garden scares them off. I worry that those little eggs (above left; click for a larger view) will be abandoned. I’ll leave you to have a look at the rather bitter-sweet image of the nest.
-cvj
Ok… I’ll sing some James Brown to the nesting bird. “Get up offa that thing…!” 😀
(Thanks for the thoughts though…. very interesting and useful.)
-cvj
When your every movement scares them off it might not be a bad sign. Their natural instinct in the presence of a predator should be to redirect the attention of the predator away from the nest. When the result is that you don’t chase after them, or the nest, they might be getting used to you.
By the way, the proper way to charm wild birds is to sit very still and sing to them. Use songs with long low notes, as these distinguish a bird with very great vocal powers, (and therefore a bird that every bird would like to know better). Humans have been charming birds for thousands of years, but like the milky way, modern man has lost sight of it.
Good news…. I crept out earlier (to check the fig crop… more later) and it seems that the dove is not too bothered by my presence. It is watchful, but so far has not broken cover and headed for the skies. I’m hoping that this means we can coexist without me being a prisoner in my house.
It seems that various creatures have not been hesitant about harvesting the ripe figs already, Moshe. At least ten have gone…. or should I say ten halves, since they don’t have any interest in finishing each one before moving to the next.
-cvj
You are not harvesting ripe figs? that is just wrong, a crime really, when there are less fortunate figless people in the world…
HI,
The good news is that I poked my head out of the door very slowly last night to look at the nest. The nest is at eye level and right next to the back door. My eyes met an unblinking eye of one of the doves sitting on the nest! Checked again just now (late afternoon) and they are still there. So all is good so far. Problem is I feel trapped now. Can’t go out to the back garden (not to harvest the tasty figs, for example) without scaring the sitter. I shall have to maybe start a series of short, quiet outings to the garden (going via a different door) to let them get used to me. I hope that works. Or I could just not go out to the back garden at all for a number of weeks (how long is incubation and the subsequent flying out of the nest, I wonder)…That would be hard.
-cvj
Ah, that’s lovely Clifford. I share your fears about the fate of the nest. How about heaping loads of branches in front of the nest to hide it better from the rest of the garden?
I’m not that suprised about Aspen Absentmindedness, surely the altitude decreases oxygen to the brain and all that? I recall that the very best view of the heavens is at about 7,000 feet. Any lower there’s too much air, any higher and visual acuity diminishes.
Don’t forget the Perseid meteors please. I believe they are particulary well suited for west coast US this year and are already underway.
regards,
astromcnaught (who really must resume his own blog)