Frankly speaking

I did it again! I forgot to edit last week’s Nat or Not babe photo to show the votes embedded in the picture. Some weekends it get a little rough after the brew reviews and this time is no exception.  My apologies. Don’t know if it really matters.  Seeing how readers voted on the image from the previous week is always interesting. I still have the results, just in a different form. I’ll try to make good on that sometime tomorrow.

Readership is robust, relative to where we were, and where we are today. Daily visits are exceeding 1,100 and page views are in the 2,500 range. That’s decent based on where SPT was three years ago. I’m extremely pleased that some of the entry pages are for past beer reviews.

With spring/summer in the air, my thoughts turn to warm weather tasks. Cleaning up a bit out in the Manly Garage, getting the Intruder ready for the street and fixing an opening in the soffit where some sparrows found a niche to make a nest and bother me when I’m sleeping.

Sparrows are everywhere. They’re relentless. They seem to speak in two or three bird-cheep syllables. At the courthouse in downtown Morris, towards sundown, thousands of sparrows congregate for a group chat in a large tree. The noise is almost deafening. They all look the same and they all sound the same. This common occurrence of nature, when I think about it, has me wondering what is the sparrows’ purpose?

Maybe they were put here to eat bugs and grubs and spiders and such. And also build nests in that opening in my soffit. Gotta hand it to them for seeking out new opportunities for springtime housing. The robins, on the other hand are complete, clueless jagoffs.

Robins are considered the harbingers of spring and, yes, they are here for the duration. I have no idea where robins prefer to build their nests and thankfully there are none living in my soffit. But robins have no clue as to what time of day it is. I hear them chirping at 8:30 at night, 10, 12:15, 1:40, you name it. When their eggs hatch, the youngsters chirp and moan on into the small hours of the morning. And when a robin hunts for worms, it kicks its head sideways to cast that one stinkeye they have to better nab their prey.

Bluejays are just brutes. Bullies. They’ll visit a feeder scaring all the other birds away. Then it chows down like a glutton, more like a squirrel packing nuts into its cheeks, until it can’t hold anymore. Bluejays… a wonder to behold, asshole, douchebag bird of nature.

Jesus H. Christ! I just did a rant mostly about birds! Flying descendants of the raptor dinosaurs from eons ago. Gave me a whole new perspective on the Jurassic era and which species of dinosaur were the jagoffs and which were the douchebags. Then I remembered that at some point in time, Man came onto the scene. Man. The soffit builder.

I’m done. Thanks a lot for visiting.


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