Just back from taking doggo out to tinkle before bedtime.
It’s quiet here in flyover country; yet now that the solstice is past
things are coming to life. Yes, even when you live halfway between the
equator and the North Pole.
The Pink Moon is almost full. The ducks are chuckling and quacking down at the big pond.
And we heard the first plaintive peents from the returning timber doodles.
Spring peepers are defrosting in the on deck circle…..
If you are reading this you have ample notice about tomorrows' full moon - called the Pink Moon.
The term ‘Pink Moon’ actually does not imply that the
moon is pink. The term derives
from the spring appearance of native ground phlox and their pink blooms
that coincides with the April full moon. I recommend that if viewing
conditions are good tomorrow night that you step outside around 9 PM so you can witness the moon at its
largest.
Started my day with making the dough.
Easy peasy.
Braised and deboned a couple wild turkey hindquarters for soup,
assembled a batch of Lenten tuna salad, prepped for Wednesday’s class
and closed with that dough.
Daily Bread!
Entirely possible my kitchen likely smells better than yours...
The TV dinner represents a major shift in our 20th Century lifestyle - the moon shot moment the aluminum-plated frozen meal met the living room. To be clear, I haven't had a TV dinner in more than five decades; however eating in the living room persists as a cultural shift.
Believe it or not, this uniquely American gastronomical contribution to our rich culture heritage has an origin story involving C.A. Swanson & Sons. Seems that following Thanksgiving in 1953, the company found itself with 260 tons of unsold frozen turkey sitting in ten refrigerated rail cars.
Gerry Thomas, a Swanson salesman, inspired by the tiered aluminum trays used by airline commissaries envisioned a complete frozen meal that could be heated and consumed smack dab in front of a television. In 1954 Swanson launched the TV Dinner and sold 10 million turkey dinners that year. The original price was 98 cents.
Naturally, this coincided with the launch of the space race and all things aluminum and before too long menu offerings included entrees like fried chicken, Salisbury steak, meatloaf and eventually a fourth compartment featuring a dessert such as a brownie or fruit cobbler. Swanson ditched the 'TV Dinner' name from their packaging by 1962; nevertheless, just like Kleenex tissues the name stuck as part of our vast genericized American cultural lexicon.
With the proliferation of microwave ovens, by the mid 1980s plastic and paperboard packaging conspired to deliver your frozen gourmet feast in less than ten minutes!
Sure, I'm being modestly snarky because I'm a food snob but I admit that this mash-up of industrialization and frozen food technology was a boon to working families struggling to get dinner on time and on the table. Trust me, I've eaten my share of frozen Banquet turkey pot pies served at the temperature of molten lava on the surface of the planet Mercury. You might have too.
Anyway, the Chopped Sirloin of Beef (hamburger) swimming in a ubiquitous brown gravy highlighted a partnership between Swanson and Pepperidge Farm featuring a blueberry muffin in the fourth compartment thus elevating the culinary experience to the level of festive celebration. Mad Men advertising brilliance!
Between you and me the inclusion of crinkle-cut fries and buttered peas is a monument to the pinnacle of American industrial processed food know-how, sodium content and poor food pairings. The birthday candle and even the smiling cat screams domestic tranquility.
Dammit; this is the Right Stuff. This is what Made America Great!
Some of you readers may recall my experience with applying for Medicare the summer of 2020. My application for coverage was denied.
Yup. This was a consequence of my being born in another country; Germany in-fact. No matter that both my parents were American citizens. No matter that I have been paying into the system forever and held a valid US passport. The Social Security Administration had me classified as an undocumented non-citizen and therefore ineligible. My application was rejected. If anyone tells you that illegal immigrants are lining-up to collect Medicare and Social Security benefits I am living proof that they are either lying to your face or ignorant. But I digress.
I can only speculate; but this was likely a bureaucratic record-keeping holdover traced to my registration for the draft in the very early 1970s. The local draft board was somehow convinced that because I held both a US Army birth certificate and a German birth certificate my dual citizenship status would entice me to flee the country and thereby circumvent any attempt at conscription and a all-expense-paid trip to Vietnam. The fix was I had to renounce any claim to German citizenship.
There was paperwork and a trip to the federal office building. And after I raised my right hand and swore an oath to 'absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty, of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen'. I was issued a Certificate of Naturalization and as a sole citizen of the United States of America my draft-dodging moment was over.
The people over at the Social Security Administration eventually cleared-up any confusion over my citizenship status and I am covered by both Medicare and Social Security. A happy ending to a stressful three months.
The other happy ending was on January 23, 1973. The year of my high school graduation Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird announced an end to the military draft and move to an all-volunteer military. POOF! Any chance of conscription vanished.
After I retired, I was moving some personal files, and found this precious piece of history...
Throughout most of our country's 250 year history the draft has come and gone. General George Washington groused about the unsoldierly quality of state militias during the revolution against Great Britain and pushed for universal conscription. Congress put the kibosh on the entire notion.
During the war between the states both the Union and Confederacy enacted drafts. The Union's Enrollment Act of 1863 was particularly controversial inasmuch as it allowed wealthier individuals to pay a $300 fee or hire a surrogate to avoid serving in the military.
World War One and the Selective Service Act of 1917 created local draft boards to determine exemptions emphasizing 'selective' service based on agricultural and industrial manpower needs.
During the Second World War the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940 instituted the first peacetime draft in history. At its peak it processed millions of men necessary to meet the unprecedented manpower needs for fighting a war on two fronts.
Conscription continued at the close of hostilities as a consequence of the Cold War and need for a standing army. Nevertheless, by the time the Vietnam war peaked the draft had become a source of increasing social unrest largely because of the inequities resulting from student deferments and the lottery system. The recommendations of the Gates Commission led to the demise of the draft and transition to an all-volunteer military.
Even though the draft is not active, in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan President Carter resumed registration in 1980 requiring men born in 1960 or later to register with the Selective Service System as a contingency addressing any extreme national emergency.
The all-volunteer shift has changed the military from a temporary obligation for many to a professional career path with higher retention rates than a conscript force. When a service member sticks-around for one or more decades the military retains the institutional knowledge and technical expertise that would otherwise be lost when a draftee rotates out after a couple of years.
Volunteers require higher pay and benefits allowing the military to set higher standards for aptitude resulting in higher education, morale and better discipline. It should come as no surprise that the military enjoys higher education levels than the general public. The quality of the military has not suffered.
In a letter to James Monroe in 1813, Thomas Jefferson wrote of; 'The necessity of obliging every citizen to be a soldier. We must train...our citizens and make military instruction a regular part of collegiate education. We can never be safe until this is done'.
Jefferson's vision of mandatory service is certainly noble; and most families nowadays no longer have a member in the service. Yet the volunteer force is the best trained, best educated and best-equipped ever. And among my own circle of friends, neighbors and acquaintances I don't have to cast my net very far to locate somebody who has voluntarily served or is presently serving.
On a personal note, in 1980 I graduated with a Masters Degree in Education and after three years as a classroom teacher promptly lost my job. With a newborn daughter and a world of declining student enrollments and school closures my teaching career was looking a bit bleak. Maybe even grim. Only 25 years old a career change had a high probability of success. Figuring I should leave no stone unturned as to options I spoke with a recruiter. A Navy recruiter. The Navy was as interested as I was having a deeper discussion with a 25 year-old with a couple of college degrees. My spouse at that point in time put the kibosh on any further discussions. Same for relocating. That spouse is now a long-gone former spouse. The newborn has a family of her own. I pursued a wildly-successful business career and am married to the best spouse on the planet. Happy endings all-around for everyone involved; including the former spouse. Nevertheless, with more than a wee bit of wistfulness, I wonder some days how a career in the military might have turned-out.
Raising a toast to all who have served our nation and continue to do so.
Cheers!
Because these buggers don't stand still and seem to materialize from multiple directions this is a little bit like trying to play a shell game.
Count them.
Count the whitetails...
Written by Fats Domino and Dave Bartholomew this song was released on Imperial Records in 1955. Selling a million copies it was an immediate hit and rose to the Number One position on the Billboard R&B chart and Number Ten on the Pop chart. The song is ranked number 438 on Rolling Stone magazine's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time list. High praise, indeed.
The song gained additional popularity after Pat Boone covered it; appealing to a broader audience. The song was also covered by the Four Seasons in 1963, Hank Williams Jr. in 1971 and Cheap Trick in 1978.
The Cheap Trick cover charted at number 35 after its release on the 1978 Live album - Cheap Trick at Budokan. Remarkably, it was this group that made this song their own.
Ain't That a Shame...
I am told that it is meteorological spring here; where I live half-way between the equator and the North Pole.
In the Northern Hemisphere this is defined as the three-month period of March, April and May - commencing on March 1 and ending on May 31. It is used by meteorologists and climatologists to align seasons with annual temperature cycles and to simplify the collection of weather data instead of using the varying dates of the astronomical equinox like the rest of us nerdy stargazers do. But I digress.
What I know for sure is that when you score a 60F day you take your canine sidekick out for a run and let her explore the melting edges of the ice-covered pond and creek.
For sure it is Mud Season after all...
After a long hiatus these are showing-up on the trail cameras regularly.
What I do not know is where they go to hide?
Black Ash Swamp maybe?
Anyway, the turkey birds are on the move....
Most everything came from the freezer and pantry inventory. Picked-up an beautiful, imported Mexican farmer cheese yesterday while in Sturgeon Bay.
Lazy Sunday chile verde chicken enchiladas.
From six o’clock, homemade guacamole, lettuce and tomatoes. Queso
fresco and frijoles from our friendly neighbors south of the border.
Chips.
Post-solstice there’s no eating in the dark either.
How good is that?
On this day in 1765, the British Parliament passed the Stamp Act to fund British soldiers stationed in the colonies after the French and Indian War. The Act taxed most printed documents in the British colonies—everything from legal documents to magazines and playing cards, touching nearly everyone's daily life.
It was the first direct tax on American colonists and had to be paid in British sterling, a currency nigh impossible for the colonists to obtain (who
had long paid taxes to colonial legislatures in local currency). Act
violations were prosecuted in jury-less Vice-Admiralty courts that could
be held anywhere in the British Empire.
The Act broke decades of
"salutary neglect," a mostly hands-off stance from Great Britain that
had allowed the colonies to prosper. At the Stamp Act Congress that
fall, representatives argued that as English subjects, they could not be
directly taxed without representation in Parliament, and announced a boycott of British goods. Although the British repealed
the act a year later, it dug in with the Declaratory Act, which
asserted Parliament's right to legislate for (and tax) colonists.
On the heels of the
Writs of Assistance these taxes led to widespread protests and fed
colonial resentment over British taxation. The episode was a key stepping stone toward the American Revolution that unfolded a decade later.
I took this photo last night following the Sturgeon Bay Rotary Club’s annual trivia contest.
There has been considerable melting following the blizzard from a week ago.
Nevertheless, there were kids climbing and sliding on the BP’s
Matterhorn at Michigan and Third Avenue. In the foreground is the snow
still bordering the sidewalk.
Nuts.
As for the trivia, hoping for a four-peat First, our Team took Second Place.
Rats.
Last week doggo and I went out for a walk to see if we could find a forester in our woods. No, we weren't playing Where's Waldo; I had gotten a text from a consulting forester we recently hired notifying me that on very short notice he was conducting a timber cruise. You're probably thinking this has something to do with a luxury cruise ship or forest ocean liner. For forestry purposes a timber cruise is a field survey conducted to measure, count and assess the quality, volume and species of standing timber for reasons of management, sales or tax purposes. Inasmuch as we've not listed anything for sale this is strictly about updating our management plan going forward the next 25 years or so.
Doggo located our guy in short order and after an exchange of pleasantries we discussed past management practices and his professional first impression of what we got going-on in our built-from-scratch forest.
Some of you may recall that after acquiring our crappy piece of farmland in 1994 we decided to naturalize much of it by means of planting native cover - namely trees but also seven acres of pollinator habitat. In 1998 and 1999 we planted roughly 40,000 native Wisconsin conifers and hardwoods. For years I imagined I'd never live long enough to see those little seedlings ever amount to anything. Lo and behold we woke-up one year and discovered we had a real forest on our hands. It was so thick that in some locations you couldn't see through it, walk through it or even consider hunting it.
So on the heels of the COVID shitshow we hired a logger to perform a pre-commercial thinning; a practice of removing less-desirable softwood conifers in order to release the more desirable and valuable hardwoods. A release is basically removing the competition so that the oaks had more access to sunlight and other resources.
And I gotta tell you that opening-up the canopy accomplished two things. First, the released trees put-on a huge growth spurt.
Second, with sunlight reaching the understory Ma Nature allowed all manner if little seedlings to sprout and all of a sudden we had thousands of tiny little trees popping-up all over the place.
And an updated management plan will inform our actions going forward and serve as a guide to any future owners.
Next step is to hire a surveyor and actually determine where the property lines and corners actually are located.
Stay-tuned.....
Just got home following some folderol with our curling
friends in the naked city. And it is stunning to see how much of the
snow deposited over 48 hours a week ago has melted. My sump pump
rejoices.
And a bigger hand to everyone else who toiled under stressful conditions to keep roads and essential services open.
Cheers!
This week we celebrate the Feast Day of St. Patrick - Patron Saint of Ireland. We're celebrating our Semiquincentennial this year and our war for independence from the yoke of the British Crown. The Irish have their own story of the struggle for independence from British rule. I figured this is as good a week as any to feature this song.
Composed by Father Charles O'Neil (1887-1963) it is a product of the political situation in Ireland in the aftermath of the Easter Rising and World War I.
More than 200,000 Irishmen served in British forces during the war. This resulted in mixed feelings for many Irish, particularly those with nationalist sympathies. Many Irish felt the moral justifications for the war and freedom for small nations such as Belgium and Serbia should be applied to Ireland subjugated by the British.
The Easter Rising of 1916 was an armed rebellion in Dublin against British rule. The British put down the unrest in six days of street fighting. 450 were killed - mostly civilians and the rebel leaders were executed. Public revulsion to the response and executions contributed to a growing alienation from Britain and led to the Irish War of Independence (1919-1921).
O'Neil reflected this alienation when he composed the the song telling the story of the Easter Rising and commemorating the few hundred brave men who rose-up against the most powerful empire in the world.
His feelings are summed-up in the line: Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud el Bar.
Foggy Dew.....
 |
| 06.08.24 Stonehenge |
The ancient Druids did not build Stonehenge. As a matter of fact, as a consequence of a timeline mismatch they had nothing to do with it. This monument was constructed during the Neolithic and Bronze Age and predates them by more than 1000 years. This was long before the Celtic Druids appeared in Britain. Any association is a 17th-century myth, although ancient Druids may have used the site for rituals just as modern-day Druids do.
As the sun grows warmer we notice small signs of life beneath our feet. First are the crocuses and daffodils, followed by the bluebells and wood anemones. Many of us view these emergent plants as mere greenery. Druids see life in all living things including springs, creeks, rivers, rocks and stones. In Druidry all life is sacred.
One of the great mysteries is the Druid's egg. Life-giving, it is the egg protected by the hare, which is the symbol of Alban Eilir, - the Festival of the Spring Equinox which means The Light Of The Earth. As Christianity supplanted pagan festivals Christians today celebrate Easter with eggs courtesy of the Easter bunny.
Happy vernal equinox.
It's what's for dinner.
Pretty good chow if you can get it.
We've had a pair of resident sandhill cranes nesting here for as long as we've had our big pond; making it thirty years. I don't believe it has been the same pair for the duration ; nevertheless, we've been witness to cranes arriving here in the month of March is some remarkably harsh weather conditions. Including Winter Storm Elsa which ended late Monday. Our cranes have been here for a couple of weeks already and when I arose yesterday they were easy to spot given all the snow on the ground.
There they were - several hundred yards north of the house - at the edge of the frozen pond, in a couple feet of snow, on a sunny 18F morning. The sandhill is an incredibly hardy critter always arriving at their northern breeding grounds while there is still snow covering icy wetlands.
This bird comes factory-equipped with some sophisticated physiological adaptations that allow it to thrive under the harshest of conditions. One of these is a sophisticated network of blood vessels in their legs called rete tibiotarsale. Also found in penguins and turkey vultures this allows warmer arterial blood from their heart to transfer heat to the cold venous blood returning from their feet. This keeps their core temperature warm while allowing their feet to remain at a lower temperature while standing in snow or icy water.
When airborne cranes typically fly with their long legs trailing behind. If it is too cold at 10,000 feet of altitude the bird will tuck their legs into their belly feathers to conserve heat. Speaking of which, the crane's plumage is a dense layer of soft downy feathers beneath an outer layer of contour feathers. Air trapped by the inner layer provides thermal insulation beneath the outer feathers that repel wind and freezing rain.
Crane behavior strategies include the use of tail winds to speed their migration from Mexico and southern states, roosting in warmer waters adjacent to power plants and preening their gray feathers with mud to make a rusty-brown camouflage to hide from predators. Until the arrival of spring green-up, this is a bird capable of digging beneath snow to locate waste grain in agricultural fields and tubers and dormant invertebrates and amphibians in frozen mud.
Anyway, we're looking forward to observing the ritual mating dance of Wisconsin's tallest bird. The birds will face each other, bow and jump while flapping their wings and making loud cackling calls. Yes, this tough bird can dance too.
Stay-tuned for any lucky trail camera photos I might capture this season.
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| Clonmacnoise, Ireland |
The Feast Day of Saint Patrick has taken-on more significance
for me since we traveled and visited the Old Sod of my ancestors before COVID. Unless you are oblivious it is obvious that the Republic of Ireland is
most assuredly a bastion of the Roman Catholic tradition of the Christian faith. And I suppose more than a few visitors are left with the impression that Ireland is - in some official capacity - a Catholic
country. While Catholics significantly outnumber all other faith traditions in Ireland, there is no
reference to Catholicism in the Irish Constitution. Ireland
is officially a secular state and tolerates all belief systems. Of
course, on my visit not even once did I spy a Lutheran church. But I
digress.
Getting back to the Feast Day the story of Ireland’s Patron Saint persists and you readers
are likely wondering if St. Patrick really did chase the snakes out of Ireland. Or is that tale just a bunch of
blarney?
According to the tale way
back in the fifth century the legendary priest raised his staff and banished
the reptiles into the seas surrounding the Emerald Isle. Save for those in captivity it is true that
Ireland has no snakes. But this current
condition has less to do with religious tradition and more to do with geologic
history and events dating many millennia ago.
Following the retreat of the last glaciers some 15,000 years ago Ireland
was devoid of snakes. Surrounded by icy
waters to this very day snakes cannot swim or find their way there and as a
consequence Ireland remains snake-free.
That’s too bad because if my
recreational DNA test is to be believed I am becoming more Irish with every
passing year. And I have a particular
fondness for snakes. The bigger the better.
Like this dandy five foot long Western
Fox Snake. I also like a good saint when
I see one and St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish.
Patrick was born of aristocratic blood
in Britain probably around the year 390.
The legend says that he was not particularly religious. At age 16 he was kidnapped into slavery was
forced into life as a sheepherder in Ireland.
It is held that it was during this time that he found God and became a
believer.
As the story goes he
began hearing voices and the voices instructed him to flee. Which he did.
Patrick eventually found his way back to Britain and his family. Alas, the voices returned commanding him to
return to Ireland. He was ordained a
priest, went back to Ireland and spent the balance of a rather difficult life
converting the pagan Celts to Christianity.
He died on March 17, 461 and was promptly forgotten.
Nevertheless, over many years faithful
conviction and belief in the story of Patrick grew. And he grew ever larger after his death than
he did in real life. Hundreds of years
after the fact he was honored as Ireland’s patron saint.
So
on March 17th we gather to pay homage to this saint who - ostensibly - banished
the snakes from Ireland. It is said that
on this one day of the year everyone is Irish.
Since I have real Irish blood coursing
through my veins I intend to raise a glass of Guinness and toast my ancestors
and Saint Patrick. I will ignore the
part about the sketchy British and Western European connection.
Speaking
of Guinness - according to the Guinness people somewhere around 5.5 million
pints of Guinness stout are consumed world-wide each and every day. On St. Patrick’s Day this will grow to 13 million pints; lifting a Lenten restriction on alcohol for just one day.
Drink responsibly
people.
Sláinte!
I haven't had much to say about the war with Iran. On one hand it is easy to come down on the side of regime change or, at a minimum, defanging the regime. The Mullahs are a dangerous collection of twisted religious revanchists who would kill me in a heartbeat for simply being American, Christian or both. Yup, I am the Great Satan. Nuclear weapons in the hands of these gangsters is taboo.
On the other hand, my preference would have been for a President to take his case before Congress before going to war. I am unconvinced of the clear and present danger of an immediate threat as much as I am convinced that the president would have gotten the go-ahead from Congress along with buy-in from the public. What we got instead was more executive unilateralism.
Almost three weeks into Operation Epic Fury - the war on Iran - the President's promise of prosperity and economic growth in his second term is facing a handful of critical risks that heretofore did not exist. Going into the new year the current economic condition was basically OK. Notwithstanding a nonsensical tariff regimen my sense was that the president was counting on a second-term economic agenda of deregulation and tax relief to propel the economy forward.
In the absence of a Congressional resolution supporting the war, shifting rationales for the war itself and no clearly articulated strategy to end the hostilities at this particular point in time and space there are any number of elements that might conspire to trip-up both the domestic and world economies.
The most immediate of which is the disruption to the energy supply chain. Even an Iranian 'threat' to shipping via the Strait of Hormuz has caused oil prices to spike impacting everything from gasoline, to LNG and diesel. The domino-effect of this is a spike in inflation pressures as a consequence higher prices for groceries (transportation and farming costs), airfares and utility pricing.
Wars costs a big pile of money; with the first week alone reported to cost us taxpayers $11.3 billion. Even if the burn rate settles-in at $1 billion a day the implications for expanding the the federal deficit are huge. The President and Pentagon are going to come back with hat-in-hand to ask for more money; and the resulting borrowing will crowd-out private investment and lead to calls for raising taxes.
Iranian threats have disrupted maritime security resulting in the rerouting of shipping, higher insurance premiums and increased freight costs impacting virtually every last consumer good traveling the global supply chain.
Economists have been setting-off alarm bells that a prolonged conflict could damage business confidence leading to a pause in hiring and capital investment. A combination of persistently higher energy costs and depressed growth could lead to a 1970s style 'stagflation'. Naturally, the investment market's response to uncertainty is greater volatility.
I do not believe that an air campaign alone can effect regime change much less political change. Consequently, I'm anxious to know how this gets wrapped-up before it morphs into an unintentional 'forever war'.
Meanwhile, the resulting energy crisis and fiscal drain have very real implications to our economy, and the world economy writ-large. The risk for shifting from an expected period of domestic growth to one of stagnation and rising living costs is quite real.
I want policy that improves your and my prosperity and general lot in life. Along with making the world a safer place. But what it is ain't exactly clear. We have not been to a Trump rodeo like this before.
Spoke too soon about springtime.
When you live half-way between the equator and the North Pole the month of March can throw you a curve ball from time to time.
Woke-up today to this.
Business has been brisk at the bird feeders all day with the arrival of more of the summertime species in the past week. So doggo and I went out to top them-off and deployed an additional two suet feeders.
Presently it looks like there is 8 to 10 inches of snow on the level, with another 18 to 20 in the next twenty four hours. We got a regular nor'easter on our hands with winds coming off the lake gusting to 40 miles per hour.
Snug here with a nonstop fire in the wood burner since last evening. We even had bacon with breakfast; because, there's a blizzard going on.
No power outages (yet).
Everything is closed except the local watering hole Come to think about it the only way to get there is by snowmobile.....
It is officially spring here in the northern hemisphere meteorologically-speaking.
Meteorological seasons are conveniently divided into tidy calendar months. The seasons begin on the first day of the months that include the equinoxes and solstices: Thusly, spring runs from March 1 to May 31; summer runs from June 1 to August 31; fall (autumn) runs from September 1 to November 30; and winter runs from December 1 to February 28 (February 29 in a leap year).
The astronomical definition uses the dates of equinoxes and solstices to mark the beginning and end of the seasons: Spring begins on the spring equinox; summer begins on the summer solstice; fall (autumn) begins on the fall equinox; and winter begins on the winter solstice. The beginning of each season marks the end of the last.
Because the timings of the equinoxes and solstices change each year, the length of astronomical seasons within a year and between years also varies.
If you want to keep it simple remember this and this alone: The arrival of the male redwing blackbirds to stake out their breeding territories is a harbinger of spring and has always been my benchmark for the official start. On March 7 the first one arrived precisely on-time. Now there are vast flocks of them.
And If
you have a sporting dog in your household this also marks the beginning
of mud season.
Raising a toast to the janitor slop sink and hot and cold running water....
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