The first storm of the year (and second of the season) arrived this past weekend, so the birds were happy to see that our new Birdbuddy birdhouse — a Christmas gift from daughter Inga and her partner, Todd — was freshly filled with seeds. We, in turn, were happy to see the arrival of Mr. Cardinal, thanks to a camera in the birdhouse that is triggered by visits and not only captures still and video images but also uses artificial intelligence to identify the species.
Previously, we had seen chickadees and tufted titmice, and there was an interesting video of a gray squirrel raiding the feeder, keeping a tufted titmouse away until the squirrel moved on.
I expect that, when venturing outside later today, I’ll see signs in the snow of other animal visitors. We typically find deer tracks all around our property, even in our front yard near the highway. Other small animal tracks that show up might belong to a feral cat, a raccoon, or some other creature — including, of course, those squirrels that always appear when there are bird feeders about, but scurry away when we open our back door.
Like others in the region, we hurried to complete all necessary tasks ahead of the storm’s arrival on Saturday. Our big job — which turned out to be much bigger than we anticipated — was picking up a china cabinet we bought through an online auction. Arriving in our rented U-Haul van, we soon discovered that we should have rented a larger truck because the china cabinet was not only huge, but heavy — even after removing the glass shelves and drawers and separating the upper section from the lower. We didn’t think to bring along helpful moving aids such as a furniture dolly and tie-down straps. The auction personnel were willing to provide some help in getting the piece out of the building, but left me standing in the driveway with the base of the cabinet resting on the pavement until another customer offered to help me get it into the U-Haul. Laying the two sections flat, we managed to fit everything into the van, but Lee and I then faced the task of unloading the cabinet back at our house. We managed to get it out with only a slight blemish to one edge, but I ended up with a large bruise on my arm.
That was my first experience with an online auction, and I was impressed with the process (if not with those in charge). Bidding online is pretty easy, and a running update on where the bids stand allows one to decide when to offer more or stay put — a virtual version of an auctioneer’s “I have $10, do I hear 20? Going once, going twice ….” And all without the cigar smoke I recall hanging in the air when attending auctions as a child.
Babe Caldwell would have loved online auctions, I suspect, if he were still around, and if he could have learned to use a computer. Growing up, my sister and I would accompany him and our mother to auctions and yard sales and flea markets to “pick up junk” that they would turn around and sell for a small profit. After he retired from work at a sawmill, Babe ran a perpetual yard sale on Profile Falls Road, traveling around to look for new items he could sell. After he gave up his license, people would come to him with objects he could buy and resell. There was local chain of enthusiasts who would trade antiques and other items among themselves, so objects often made the rounds from Babe to Dave Cote to Charlie Reynolds to some other trader.
One of Babe’s best customers was Lee, so when I married her, I “re-inherited” a lot of the furniture that once had been mine and then was passed on to him for his yard sale.
That circle of possessions was similar to my career in newspapers. Having started out at the Bristol Enterprise, my career would take me, and some of those I worked with, from one newspaper to another and, sometimes, back. My path led to The Citizen, The Telegram, back to The Citizen, on to the Union Leader, and, finally to the Laconia Daily Sun. Many of us also spent time as freelancers for online media such InDepthNH.org before retiring, turning to other jobs, or volunteering for “causes”.
It’s not only journalists: We all seem to be caught in a loop, losing contact with friends and acquaintances, then reconnecting years later — although sometimes not quickly enough, and finding out that they are no longer alive.
Spending time in nature puts all that into perspective, even if a snowfall keeps one inside and nature comes by way of a birdhouse camera. Observing the birds or the animals, listening to the sounds of a river, hiking in the quiet woods — all provide a different form of stimulation that shines light upon the soul.