A Southern Belle with Northern Roots/Junkflirt

I enjoy watching birds scatter about, making nests, digging for worms, fighting with squirrels.
But, this year, I discovered something new...

I don't love grackles.

I use that phrase because of a relative that has taught their son to say just that. He is 3 and beautiful and verbal, as most 3 year olds are.
They, like all parents, would cross their fingers when invited to dinner. Hoping the ever honest child would not say "I don't like it!" or " I hate that!"
So, Douglas politely says "I don't love liver."

I don't love grackles.
They are mean birds. Always picking on the smaller ones, noisy and obnoxious.
However I found them quite amusing the other day. It started with our new flower bed and a cat that claimed it for it's litter bed.

I don't love cats.

MOTHBALLS! That ought to do it!
Except every time I put them in....the cat threw them out.
Back and forth we went. I figured this cat must have quite a kick because mothballs were scattered over 15 feet.
I began to peek more frequently out my window, determined to catch him in the act.

And there they were- Grackles.
A dozen of them having a mothball party. Yep. Fighting amongst themselves as to who would claim the prized glittering ball. Whoever had possession flaunted it in front of the others, who would squawk and try to steal it.
Rubbing it on their back, wings and stomach, they bathed themselves with the glorious orb. All seemed delighted.

Generally, they use ants for this purpose, thus, it is known as anting. Ants secrete a substance when squeezed that is a topical treatment for mites or infected pin feathers. When an ant isn't to be found -mothballs will do. So will walnut shells or marigolds.
Of course mothballs are toxic. Dumb birds.
And the cat still thinks it is his litter box.

I do love dogs.
I just chased two of them out of my yard-I think the cat told them where I live.

I sit peering out my window,
waiting... watching.
Soon, the parade of characters will come. Clean up week has begun. I am the curb watcher.

First to stop by, the fixer; He is searching for parts or things that need parts. He has more parts at home than he knows what to do with. You may find a rescued lawnmower or sprinkler at his next garage sale.

Then the Junker stops by on her search for hidden treasure. She can make a planter out of a toilet or a bulletin board from a coil mattress. An old window pane or a metal bird cage is a diamond in the rough.

Now, the scrappers, they can come alone but usually travel in packs. Organized and highly skilled, distinguishing iron from aluminum they can strip a grill in under twenty seconds.

My favorite, the shy ones, they are fun to watch.
Hesitantly circling the block, they spot their prey.
Quickly, they try to shove a chest of drawers in back of the mini cooper. Embarrassment gives way to giggles and the dresser instead is perched on the hood like a prized buck on opening day.

Last is Mr. Practical, he is selective and need based. He won’t pick it up if he doesn’t need it. Usually sticks to his list. He scans the curb until he finds the perfect fertilizer spreader. His wife is with him, she would like him to grab the nice flower pot, but he won’t. It isn’t on his list.

Tomorrow, I the curb watcher will become the Junker, I love clean up week.


Note: Once a year our area has clean up week. During this week you are allowed to throw away garbage not normally taken. Things like appliances, building materials etc. Some of the piles are literally 10 feet high. The town tradition is to drive around all week, looking for your hidden treasure and to get rid of your junk or someone else's treasure.