Notes from a not-so-small Island

Here I am at Heathrow Terminal 5 waiting for my flight back to Boston -- delayed 45 minutes. I've managed to find one of maybe half a dozen places here to recharge my phone and computer. And, here's the good news, British Airways has got off its elitist high horse and allowed us to get access to the Heathrow free wireless. Previously, there was wireless here but "only for club and first class, Sir"

So, what's changed here, especially in light of Brexit? Surprisingly, not a lot. Still the same great food and beer. Still the same excellent road system. What's really a pleasant surprise is that "Team GB" is now in third place in the medals table at the Olympics. Normally, we languish at about 10th place, if we're lucky. Even my rental car was a treat (well done, Hertz). Although they tried every trick in the book to make me pay more than the basic cost of the rental. He could upgrade me to "a very nice Mercedes... just a small increase in the rate." What about SatNav (GPS)? (turned out it was in the car already so I'm certainly glad I didn't opt for that). And then, of course all the CDW nonsense. Finally (and he tried each of these at least twice), was prepaying fuel. I was tempted because their rate was L1.03 per litre (I ended up paying L1.23). But of course I knew that anything that he was so keen to sell me must be bad for me. And of course it was. Even though I must have driven about 400 km all told, the efficiency of the (diesel) car was so good that I had used barely a quarter of the tank. So, prepaying for fuel, even at the good price, would have cost something like L70 instead of the L25 that I actually paid to refill it. That's the part they forget to point out: you probably won't use all the fuel in the tank.

Speaking of the food and beer, they were great (again). There was a time very recently when the quality of British beer had gone right down the drain. Too much choice amongst different beers combined with a general lack of knowledge about keeping the stuff meant that frequently the beer was bad. My solution is to enquire which is their most popular beer and buy that. But I've discovered that you can actually ask for a sample now! That's the way to go (next time). In the car heading to the airport, I was listening, on Radio 4, to an interview with someone who has been a director (or spokesman, or something) of CAMRA (the campaign for real ale) for many years. He pointed out something I hadn't really thought about. The decline in beer quality that the big brewers tried to ram down our throats, unsuccessfully, in the 1970s actually paralleled a decline in food quality. Big profits and lots of advertising, meant that they were getting away with passing off alcoholic lemonade and many different types of food as real beer or food. Many people weren't noticing. But some were, fortunately. I was one of those.

To all my American friends. You really don't know what you're missing if you haven't eaten/drunk in a British country pub. And, it's not just pubs. In the supermarkets, they sell real bread! And of course lots of great savory dishes and pies.

What else can I tell you about the trip? It was just great hanging out with family. Especially seeing my 91-year old mother. I wanted to encourage her to work on our family tree. To that end, I did quite a bit of research into genealogical tools. My conclusion? Very disappointing.

Ancestry, the most senior of the offerings, is still quite difficult to use. Too difficult for my mother, certainly. Plus it has several annoying bugs. It doesn't work with Internet Explorer. And, despite advertising 1 billion records, they seem to have a lot of trouble finding my family members (and, no, they weren't all shipped off as convicts to Australia!). We did discover some things she didn't already know (her mother had four more siblings than the four she knew about, for example). FindMyPast was even worse. Not so many bugs and maybe a bit easier to use. But, even with their two billion records, it was no better finding my relations. When you consider that these things want to charge you more than $10 per month, it's just daylight robbery IMO.

Well it's seems we're boarding to it's bye from me.

Puga, the love hound

Hello all, this is Kim, borrowing Robin's blog to commemorate the story of our beloved Puga.

Puga arrived in our lives on April 8, 2008. From the first, she liked to be petted and stroked so much that when I stopped, she would always nudge my hand until she got more. I called her “the love hound” because of this, but also, because she turned out be a supremely devoted, loving little dog. Her heart failed her on April 5, 2016.  She enriched the past eight years of our lives beyond measure. There will never be another dog like her. 

Puga as photographed by her wonderful dog walker, Amy

I first saw Puga’s photo on petfinder.com as I was searching to fill the gap left by Darcy, Robin’s dog who lived with us for the first three years we were married. With Robin’s acquiescence, I submitted an application to adopt Puga from Great Dog Rescue New England. I received an affirmative response that she was still looking for a home, but I couldn’t meet her since she was in Tennessee. They suggested I could talk on the phone with her foster family and find out everything about her, and if we decided we wanted her, she would travel on a special transport truck to Massachusetts. Huh! That’s when we first found out about South-to-North dog adoptions.

And that’s when I had my first conversation with Susan Gilbert, a dog rescue angel in Jackson, TN and Puga’s foster mother. Little did I know that over the years, Susan and I would become further acquainted, share a couple of crazy lost dog adventures (both dogs were found), visit back and forth, and become great friends. Both of us will always be thankful for the little dog that brought us together.

Susan and I at her home in Jackson, TN, 2012 with Puga 

Susan and Puga

Having been assured that Puga was the great dog we were looking for, she did ride the transport and came somewhat nervously into our family. But she quickly became my devoted companion, following me from room to room, sleeping by my side, and waiting for me in her dog bed by the front door every time I went out. If I went on a work or bridge trip, Robin told me that she waited by the front door the whole time. She was always there to give me an enthusiastic greeting when I got home. Puga’s tail wagged constantly. My sister Kara called her a “world-class champion tail wagger.” 

Puga on the day she arrived in 2008

And that name? Well, she answered to it, so we kept it, but we never found out its origins. A Portuguese-speaking acquaintance theorized it might have started as “Pulga,” or “flea.”

She did have a happy life with us. For a few years, we were busy hiking the mountains of New England and Puga followed us up many trails. She loved the outdoors. We always tried to find her a swimming spot in a pond or stream. She didn't really swim, but loved to wade up to her chin to cool off. In her early days she thought it was her duty to hunt rodents, birds, deer, and anything else that moved in the woods. We once lost her for half an hour when she went after a wild turkey. She jumped into nasty swamps to chase ducks, and the one time we took her to the beach, she leapt into the waves and started swimming out to sea in pursuit of gulls! We had to work hard on her training to get her to come back to us, and for many walks and hikes she wore a bell so we would at least have some idea of where she was.

Puga liked going out in the snow....

....and in the rain

I have so many beautiful memories of being in the woods and mountains with Puga by my side. These photos reflect a few of those outings. 

On the trail to Little Monadnock

Cindy and Puga at Lonesome Lake in the White Mountains, 2011

On top of Mt. Hight, 2011

Mt. Caribou in Maine, 2008

Puga’s 4,000-footer achievement list included Jackson, Pierce, Monroe, North and South Kinsman, Carter Dome, Osceola, Moosilauke, Abraham, and Bigelow. And there were many lesser peaks — Cardigan, Ascutney, Kearsarge North, Chocorua, Caribou — as we trained for the bigger ones. I remember Puga leaping across a wide, fast-moving stream on Speckled Mountain as I tried to gingerly cross on the rocks. Puga arrived dry on the other bank; I did not.

When we started fostering other rescue dogs, Puga got a little less attention than she would have liked. To try to make it up to her, I took Puga to a number of recreational and obedience classes including Agility, Nose Work, and Canine Good Citizen. She was never a top performer. I finally realized that what made her the happiest was just being out in the woods — whether on a mountain trail or rambling around the pond near our house. Robin and I did a lot more walking over the past eight years than we would have without her to motivate us — that’s for sure!

Puga in the woods near our house, 2013

A few other memorable aspects of Puga: She got grumpy towards our other dogs as she got older, barking ferociously at them if they threatened to hone in on any available food. Her coat was silky soft, the softest I’ve ever felt, and I loved stroking the fur on the top of her head. She kept a reliable internal clock for mealtimes, and she would give her signature howl when it was time to be fed.

Scruffy Puga

The Howl?

Puga with foster dog Charlie. "Our bowls are empty and we're not happy."

In recent years, Puga stopped running off as much and stuck closer to us. We tried some vegetable gardening in our back yard and Puga loved being out there with me, poking around whenever I was watering plants or whatnot. When our Chihuahua Pixie died 3 years ago, we planted one azalea as her memorial, and then another and though we watered them profusely, neither survived. Puga is now buried nearby, behind our apple tree and soon more flowering bushes of different varieties will be going in to help remind us of them both. Let’s hope the new ones make it!

Puga and CJ in 2013

Lillian and Puga in their Christmas finery, 2011

And a new sweater she got that Christmas!

When Puga was diagnosed with heart disease this winter (we took her to the vet for a telltale cough), we knew her life expectancy was limited. She saw a cardiologist and went on meds that were supposed to keep her alive for 18 months, on average, but she only got another two. I kept her close to me during those two months, and had the chance to spoil her a little more than usual. Her tail was wagging right up to her final moments. I consider it a great gift that she was able to spend them in my arms and that her end came peacefully. Her absence is enormous and my sadness is deep, but I am so very grateful that Puga, the love hound, was MY love. She and I had a beautiful friendship. I hope to find another great doggie love someday, but there will never be another like Puga. Thank you my girl for your unwavering devotion and love.

March 2016

John Biggins

My son Will recently introduced me to the novels of John Biggins, an English author who writes about the early days of the 20th century, with a particular protagonist: Otto Prohaska, who is at various times a submarine commander, a naval gunnery officer and a flyer for the decaying Austro-Hungarian Empire.

There are four novels in the Prohaska series and they open a window on a lesser-known theater of WWI: the Adriatic sea. The background to the stories is factual and well-researched. The specifics, like those of Conan Doyle's hero of the Napoleonic wars Brigadier Gerard, are entirely fictional.

The first in the series is titled: A Sailor of Austria: In Which, Without Really Intending to, Otto Prohaska Becomes Official War Hero No. 27 of the Hapsburg Empire.

I highly recommend these books, especially if you have an interest in naval history, or European history, or just the World Wars. The humor is a little more scatological and slapstick than the subtle humor of Patrick O'Brian in the Jack Aubrey series, but is nonetheless very engaging. There is, for example, the exploding lavatory, and the camel, a reluctant passenger from Cyrenia to Crete.

We Adopted a Teenager

(Another guest entry by Kim)

CJ’s adoption was finalized in court on Tuesday, September 9, 2014. We could not have asked for a lovelier experience on the big day.

CJ had wanted to keep the event low-key, i.e. not a big party with all our friends. We wanted to respect his wishes and keep the day about him. But as we neared the official date, he decided he wanted to invite three of his school friends (Jacob and twins Maggie and Andy), along with their parents. These two families have been a big part of CJ’s life this past year and have warmly welcomed him to the community, and we were so happy to have them be part of this occasion. We were also impressed that CJ decided to share his Adoption Day with his friends.

Also in attendance were CJ’s grandparents, Cathy and Bobby; CJ’s brother Liam and Liam’s mom/my friend Karen; CJ’s social worker Katy and his lawyer Garry; our social worker Maria; my sister Kara and her boyfriend Brian; and our good friends Jim and Eileen. Robin’s daughter and son, Miranda and Will, both took the day off work to be there (Miranda flying up from DC just for the day) and we are grateful to both of them for making this a very special family event.

In the courtroom, the super nice judge came down from the bench and sat with us at a table and talked to us about our lives and the adoption. She was full of appreciation for what we were doing, and remarked how nice it was to have a happy occasion in court. In a remarkably thoughtful touch, she gave CJ the gavel and instructed him how and when to use it to finalize his own adoption. I loved that. CJ was indeed happy and enthusiastic about the whole occasion, and his good spirits were contagious to everyone.

Talking with the judge in court

Should we be worried that after CJ’s adoption was decreed as “final and irrevocable,” he muttered to us, “You ain’t seen nothing yet!” ??????  Haha love that kid.

Family! Robin, Kim, Liam, CJ, Miranda, William (with judge in back)

Friends!

After court, our group of 20 went to a nearby restaurant for drinks, snacks, and cake. We had a little speaking program in which nearly everyone, including the youths, got up to wish CJ well, and said nice things about him and about us. We really felt the love! One doesn't get to be the center of attention very often in life, but we did enjoy it on this special day.

In a way Tuesday was just a formality. We first met CJ seventeen months ago, and since then we've been working on becoming a family. We’re pretty much an ordinary family now, albeit one in which the three members of the household have three different last names and the 13-year-old calls his parents by their first names. But I still get a hug every morning and every night at bedtime, and Robin is helping CJ with his algebra and shepherding him through his fall soccer season, and we’re trying to get him to brush his teeth without us having to remind him Every. Single. Time. It is all I hoped it would be, and more.

THANK YOU SO MUCH to all our friends and family who have given us your unconditional support, and opened your hearts to CJ, during this incredible process. Life is Good.  

Sudden Hearing Loss

Hello Readers,

This is Kim once again, "guest blogging" with an unfortunate new development in my life.

I have learned this week why it’s such a good thing that our bodies evolved with so many redundancies: two ears, eyes, limbs, etc. When you lose one, you still have the other! As many of my acquaintances know, I’ve been suffering from an “ear blockage” and deafness in my left ear for the past six weeks. On Monday I finally saw the ear specialist and my official diagnosis is SSNHL (sudden sensorineural hearing loss). She gave me the unwelcome news that I am now permanently deaf in my left ear.

I learned that the feeling of “blockage” had nothing to do with a head cold or trapped fluid in the ear; that there is no known cause for this condition, but it affects about 5 in every 100,000 people; and that the leading theory is that a virus causes inflammation of the inner ear, which destroys the nerve cells. Had I seen a specialist in the first two-four weeks, I would have been treated with steroids in an attempt to reduce the inflammation, which sometimes works. But although I first went to a CVS Minute Clinic and then my own nurse-practitioner in the first 12 days of my symptoms, neither of them referred me to a specialist immediately. My NP flagged the possibility and called Mass Eye and Ear Infirmary (MEEI) and they advised us that I should see a specialist, but the first available appointment was four-and-a-half weeks in the future. When I finally saw her, six weeks after the onset of my symptoms, she told me the hearing loss is untreatable and irreversible.

Now that we’ve read several articles about it (see links below), it is clear that anyone experiencing sudden hearing loss should go to a specialist or the ER immediately. But as the articles explain, this condition is actually so rare that few medical practitioners know how urgent it is to receive speedy treatment. And the symptoms are very similar to head colds or fluid blockages, which is what everyone thought I had. Those conditions are treatable or resolve themselves, and I was taking lots of decongestants, nasal sprays, etc. to try to clear the blockage when that was not my problem at all. Yes, I am feeling some anger and incredulity over how it happened that although I sought medical attention twice within the treatment window, and even had MEEI on the phone, I somehow never got advised to seek urgent treatment for sudden hearing loss.

Still, what’s done is done, and even if I had been treated, chances are iffy that it would have worked. I definitely had additional issues of vertigo the first week, and the articles say that hearing is recovered less often when those symptoms are present too. Sometimes one just gets unlucky, and that seems to have been my fate.

Enjoying London in February with one good ear!

As to where I go from here, I found out that hearing aids can’t help since amplifying sound, just to reach a non-functional nerve, would be futile. There is a type of “transmitter” they can implant in my skull on the left side, which would send sound over to my right ear, theoretically improving my ability to hear sounds from my left. The doctor says most people find this doesn’t help enough to be worth the effort, and that most make do with their one good ear, but it is something I can explore. I also asked what would happen should my right ear suffer the same fate. She said that was highly unlikely, kind of like being struck by lightning twice. SSNHL is almost always in one ear only, and chances of it happening to me again are 5/100,000. They told me at the doctor’s office that if I ever DO feel the slightest problem in my good ear, to rush immediately to the ER at Mass Eye and Ear. Also, no scuba diving, loud machinery, or rock concerts in my future – a “monaural” person has to keep their good ear as safe as possible.

Anyway, although it must be recognized that this is somewhat life-altering, (yeah, I can't hear a lot of stuff now), I am focusing on being grateful for my general good health and all my blessings. Robin and CJ are going to be very supportive and remember to talk to me in my good ear. I’m also feeling appreciative that here in the US the driver sits on the left side of the car, so my passenger can still talk to me (wouldn’t work if I were driving in England!). Thanks be for my good ear, as I’ll still be able to enjoy life “almost” to the fullest. I guess when I think back on the past six weeks, there have been some irritations and inconveniences, but life in general has gone on. I have much to look forward to.

Patient Guide Sudden Deafness

Washington Post article

Memories of Pixie

Hello Readers,

This is Kim, a guest contributor to Robin's Rural Rides. Both of us have been really saddened by the loss of our dear Chihuahua, Pixie, two weeks ago today. As Robin said, "There was an enormous amount of character, loyalty, and affection in that little body of hers. We are really going to miss her."  

We wanted to capture some of our happy memories of Pixie over the past three years, and there were many. Here is what we came up with.

Pixie came to us on April 2, 2010. She had been found as a stray on the streets of Worcester in February. She went through Worcester Animal Control, the Worcester Animal Rescue League, and then Great Dog Rescue New England, who asked us to foster her. By the time we got her medical issues sorted out, we couldn't give her up.

She had three surgeries the first year with us: spaying, tooth extraction, and eye removal. The latter was a tough decision but was so right, as it ended her pain and she adjusted beautifully. After those surgeries, she was in good health, although we still cared for her like a baby and spoiled her rotten. In the spring of 2013 she started suffering from IBD, which daily Metronidazole miraculously cleared up. Her last week she was slowing down, but her death was unexpected and sudden.

Cutest one-eyed dog

Pixie lived life to the fullest right up to her final day. She died on July 7, 2013 of congestive heart failure. Her clay paw print is buried next to our crab apple tree under a white azalea bush we planted in her memory.

Pixie was full of life and personality. She greeted us with furious tail wagging when we came home, and waited until we acknowledged her and petted her before she went back to her spot. She loved to come on errands, and followed me around the house to make sure she wasn't missing anything.

She had a furious little bark and afterwards made little motions with her mouth like she was adjusting it back into normal position. She always barked at our dog walker, Amy, even after she’d been taking care of Pixie for months and years.

We sometimes described her as ornery since she didn't like strangers. During her past, she must have had trouble with a tall man wearing a baseball cap, as she could be quite aggressive towards that type. She once lunged and bit a plumber matching that description on his way out. (Fortunately, she did no serious damage.) After that we learned to keep her separated from service men visiting the house. However, she accepted many of our friends and relatives by sitting in their laps on the sofa.

Mt. Kearsarge 2011

She participated in hikes and walks in the woods with us and our other dogs. She gave us a scare the first year by taking the wrong trail and getting lost in Pisgah State park – she could be a little too independent! Sometimes she would go on ahead (especially on the way home). But more often, she would trail behind, sniffing, and we would have to call her to come trotting back.  She could put on quite a show of speed when she wanted to. Her longest hikes were 6 miles, up Mounts Percival/Morgan in New Hampshire and Mount Ascutney in Vermont – both steep, rocky climbs. Her only reservation was crossing any stream or watery spot, so we had to pick her up and carry her over. Otherwise, she loved the woods and the outdoors like any dog.

We got an Agility set for Christmas one year. During the months I had the weave poles set up in the basement, Pixie was just as proficient on them, if not more so, than the other dogs!

She made an endearing little grunting, throaty sound when she settled herself down.

She shed like a year-round blizzard going on in our house.

She loved her heated dog bed, especially in winter. She also sought out any spots where sunbeams came through our windows.

Pixie loved when Robin and I were close together on the sofa or in bed, and insisted on snuggling between us. She showed her contentment by licking our hands, arms, and legs.  She was quite a “licker.” A true lap dog, she spent many, many hours in Robin’s lap while he worked at his computer.

She was a faithful sleeping companion. In the winter she would sleep cuddled up against our knees under the blankets. In the summer, she would sleep right next to us or on top of us. She spent the winter nights of 2010-11 with Miranda, who lived here during her last year of vet school. 

Pix, as we often called her, impressed many in our circle of friends, who told us of their affection for her, most notably Miranda's friends Jenni and Sarah. She did not win over everyone, but those who were won over often told us how much they adored Pixie.

In the morning when Pixie woke up, she would come lie on my stomach and gaze into my eyes, and I would massage her and she would half close her eye and stay there for as long as I would pet her. Her ears would go horizontal and she reminded me of Yoda. She always welcomed a tummy rub too.

Pix was part of the group that drove to Memphis and back in 2012. On long car rides she would stay in my lap with her head in the crook of my arm, wrapped in a blanket, and snooze the journey away.

She loved coffee with cream and sugar.  She had a special bark for coffee, and would come into my lap and try to get at it. I usually gave her the last few sips from the cup.

During her last two springs and summers, she discovered joyriding with her head out the car window. She loved this with a passion. Thanks to the stern warnings of Cousin Jeff, she was harnessed and tethered while she did this. She would follow me around in the warmer seasons, hoping for a car ride each day. During her last few months she got in a lot of joyriding, including on her way to the vet the day she died. She especially enjoyed the trips to Kimball’s and getting a spoonful of ice cream.

Pixie was ingrained into the fabric of our lives and was a daily bright spot. She loved us, and we loved her, with all our hearts.

Thanks for all the love, our little Pix.

Dambusters

A recent trip to England has re-awakened in me my interest in the "Dambusters raid" of 1943, officially known as Operation Chastise. First, we (Kim, Mia and I) decided to go and see the new statue of Barnes Wallis at Herne Bay while we were on our day out to Howlett's Wild Animal Park. Then, while looking for a book to read at the airport for the flight home, I saw (and bought) Dambusters by James Holland.

The book tells the story, in great detail, of the early stages of the idea by Wallis and the struggle to get it taken seriously; the go-ahead and the formation and training of 617 squadron of the Royal Air Force; the raid itself, which happened almost exactly 70 years ago; and the aftermath. It's an excellent book - very well written.

I should of course point out, that Barnes Wallis was an "Old Blue," that's to say he, like me, went to Christ's Hospital. Indeed, he was a familiar presence there when I was a boy. It is said that he was devastated by the huge losses of the bomber crews. If I recall correctly, he used the money that was given to him later by a grateful government to fund scholarships at CH for the sons of RAF officers.

The statue, is placed there because of the bouncing bomb trials (see photo below) which occurred there in the early part of 1943 in preparation for the raid. The trials were at the time considered to be at Reculver, rather than Herne Bay. But Reculver is rather difficult to reach these days and it is all the same bit of coastline.

All this reminded me of the only unpleasant German I ever met (I've met a lot of very nice Germans over the years, by the way). He was the ticket agent at Bochum when I was visiting in 1979. I wanted to see Wuppertal (where I was born) and in particular wanted to ride on the Schwebebahn. I stood in line and when I reached the window, politely asked for a "hin und rundfahrt" ticket to Wuppertal Hauptbahnhof. "Kein Hauptbahnhof in Wuppertal," he almost screamed at me. So, I was forced to leave the line and consult the chart. Clearly the main station was at Elberfeld. So, I rejoined the queue and eventually got my ticket. That memory has always rankled with me and when I think of the thousands of innocent folk who perished as a result of the dams breaking, I like to imagine they were like that railway man. What a contrast from the agent in Stockholm on another occasion who after I asked for a ticket to Uppsala, replied in the most perfect English "would you like a single or a return?" The irony is that, since 1992, the station in question has actually been called Wuppertal Hauptbahnhof.

But back to the Dambusters. There was an excellent two-hour documentary on Nova entitled "Bombing Hitler's Dams" recently in which a team of engineers tries to reenact the Dambusters raid. The technical challenges were formidable, even with today's technology. How they managed to get it working in just a few months during the war is nothing short of amazing. The goal of the documentary team is to build a small dam somewhere up in the wilds of Canada, and destroy it with a bomb. You'll have to see it to find out if they succeed.

One thing which I don't entirely understand is why the actual raid had to be flown at 50-100' all the way from England to the targets. Wouldn't it have been possible to fly high, like normal bomber raids, and then swoop down? Many of the crew losses seem to be attributable to this night-time low-level flying. In at least two cases, the planes flew into power transmission lines, hundreds of miles from the targets.

Anyway, it's a great story of ingenuity, dedication and sheer bravery. The 1955 movie, which I saw for the second time a year or so ago, is a great way to see the entire story.

The Carlisle Fieldfare

Fieldfare

(from Wikimedia Commons, copyright Adam Kumiszcza, license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en)

Well, I know it's been a long time. The topic that has prompted me to resume my electronic pen is the "Carlisle Fieldfare."

What is a fieldfare, some of you may be asking? It's a large Eurasian thrush that hoves to this side of the pond about once every 35 years or so. Here is the Wikipedia entry although it is rather disappointingly brief.

This particular bird was seen first on St. Patrick's Day (perhaps it was an errant Irish bird?) on the Greenough property (where we take out dogs walking regularly) by fellow-Brit Alan Ankers. I'm not sure how serious Alan was about birding before he left England, but since living over here he has become very expert. I've been on a few nature walks with him. Nice guy. See his posting on the Yahoo group for Nature in Carlisle that he set up (and which I subscribe to).

I don't know when I first saw the posting but probably the next day. I didn't pay it much attention. It's just a fieldfare, I thought. Whoa! Wrong response. To every other American birder, a fieldfare is big news. See the article and photo in our local paper later that week [this link probably won't work after a certain period of time so I have reproduced the photo here - with many thanks to our wonderful Carlisle Mosquito].

Judging from the posts on the MASSBIRD listserv, the scenes probably got even more crazy later. People were still pouring in from all over the Northeastern US just to see our bird.

Again, based on MASSBIRD sightings, it would appear that our fieldfare only stayed a week, after having moved a little Southward. But apparently, the homeowners on Maple St. and the police have all been very helpful and welcoming to the twitchers.

So, it got me wondering. Where exactly have I seen fieldfares? I seem to recall them in large flocks mixed in with redwings. On Otmoor, perhaps? Or have I only seen them further North? I probably should have rushed out to get another sighting early last week when I heard about it.

So, it seems that Carlisle has finally found itself in the news, although as far as I can tell not in the radio or TV media. If you're interested, google Carlisle and Fieldfare and you should get plenty of hits, including some good photos of the actual bird, such as this one by J. R. Trimble.

Cheers and good birding!

Just another Tuesday

It's the eve of the 2012 election, as well as the 407th anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, and I have a few thoughts to share. Nothing very amazing but I've taken a lot more interest in this election than in most previous elections. Why is that? Two reasons -- and both relate to the Supreme Court. The first and most obvious is the composition of the nine justices. Because the appointments are for life, the vacancies can't be easily predicted. With twelve years of Republican administrations, the number of democratic seats has dwindled to historically low levels. What's that you say? The court is supposed to be non-partisan? Tell that to Al Gore.

The second reason has everything to do with the decision that the court made recently which essentially allows corporations and individuals to give as much money for political purposes as they like. What that means of course is that enormous sums of money are being spent by both sides this time around. Given that there is no legal requirement for all of this spending to promote the truth, we are being barraged by scaremongering and misinformation on behalf of the "establishment" represented by the richest 1% of the population and their representatives. For these people, it is very fortunate that there are at least 40% of the population that are extremely gullible and love to believe in conspiracy theories. There was a hilarious series of interviews at a recent political rally in Ohio where the attendees were asked about their various concerns. One woman was very concerned about possible losses of freedom that might ensue if the incumbent wins. Needless to say, she couldn't actually name or otherwise identify any of these freedoms at risk. Another woman was concerned about Obama's religion (and that of his father, as if that is of any concern to us). He's a follower of the Rev. Wright, he's a muslim and an atheist. When asked which of those she believed he was, she simply said "all of them." The level of ignorance is staggering.

I could go on and on.

But the one thing that I was shocked to hear is split right down the middl, is the belief (or disbelief) in anthropogenic global warming. Ten years ago, largely thanks to Al Gore, a substantial majority of the population believed in AGW. But so much money has been put in on the other side now (money, I should point out that could be better spent trying to figure out what to do about the problem), that approximately half the population now believes that global warming is a hoax. And this despite a devastating series of hurricanes in recent years that surely even the backwoods boys have heard about.

While of course looking at just one aspect of climate doesn't prove anything, I am still convinced that the vast majority of specialist climate scientists, almost all of whom are of the same opinion, are right. These are the people who have the expertise, the data, and the networking to look at every aspect of the issue. Thank goodness there are still such people who are willing to speak up.

I feel strongly that the opponents of the mainstream view, and who are politically or financially motivated (actually those are the same thing), are actually evil. When we should be listening to our scientists and planning for the future of our children and grandchildren. we are instead, like Nero, prevaricating.

Over the years I have come to realize that there are three essential differences between the Democrats and the Republicans:

• long-term view versus short-term;
• distribution of wealth (and correspondingly maximizing GDP) versus concentration of wealth;
• hope (and open information) versus fear (and censorship).

Everything else derives from these three. I dare say that you could make a good case for combining these into just one.

Just think about the way the internet is viewed by democrats and republicans. The former have embraced the new medium, the latter want to control it, by making information companies liable for anything posted on their sites. In this way, the internet is to conservatives as the printing press was to the Catholic church. Another obvious example is the politicizing of evolution. Only countries ruled by religious fanatics are fearful of the theory of evolution.

Heaven help us if the wrong guy gets elected tomorrow. The future of our 236-year-old experiment in democracy will then be in serious jeopardy. And I will probably have to delete this post!

A deaf mutt

Daddy is a pure white mix of who knows what kind of dog who also happens to be deaf.  But it in no way spoils his fun as he's a huge fan of playing, people and pooches.  He's a lovely, friendly, playful dog.  On Sunday, we will be handing him over to his adopters who live in New Jersey.  Here's the story, taken from the PetFinder web site:

Daddy is a 10 month old Mix with silky soft (not wire), white hair and a story that will make you smile. A few weeks ago, a rescue worker was called and told by a woman that she had been watching a momma dog with small pups out alone in a field for several days. She said the momma was making shelter for the babies at night and bringing them food, but after several days, the good samaritian was very sure no one was coming back for these dogs. The rescue workers arrived and the dog was, obviously protective of the babies, but after some coaxing, they got the "mamma" to come to them. It was then that they found out that "Momma" was the "DADDY". In all our experience, we have never seen a Daddy dog stick by tiny puppies: feed them, protect them, love them. But, this guy did it all on his own. We may never know what happened to the mom, but somehow at just 3 weeks old....Daddy managed to keep all his little pups alive. I think of it as a tribute to all the good daddies in the world! Daddy is sweet and kind, he aims to please and gets along well with other dogs. He has experience with children as young as 2 years old and seem to adore them. His favorite things are to get hugs and be petted. He also does not mind car rides. There is one thing....after Daddy and his pups were rescued, he was brought to the vet where it was discovered that he is completely deaf. Daddy gets around just fine and can learn to follow hand signals. He sometimes startles when people come up on him unexpectedly, but he has never been aggressive...just surprised! Other than not being able to hear, Daddy shows no health problems and is ready to live a good, long life. Daddy is currently 45lbs.
Isn't it a great story?  Anyway, we have him for just this week.  He really is a super dog.  I believe his puppies are all spoken for too.  We wonder if he misses them or worries about them at all.  Below (left) is a photo that makes his coat look a bit creamy.  Below (right) he's in the field looking after the puppies.  He might have bits of Airedale and poodle as described in his profile, but I doubt it.



Supposedly, there is a correlation between a whte coat and deafness, although I wasn't able to establish the strength of that correlation. He isn't albino, although he does seem to exhibit partial albinism.  His irises are hazel but his eyelids and exposed bits of skin are all very pink.  He's got some blotches around his "undercarriage", so there's definitely pigment there.  He's a bit underweight but he's a good eater (including counter surfing if he can get away with it) so we expect him to catch up pretty quickly.  And he's extremely smart and trainable, with an excellent sense of smell.

Meanwhile, I went to see Philip Glass' opera Satyagraha ("truth force" in Sanskrit), the name by which Gandhi's philosophy of non-violent protest is known.  It's incredibly moving emotionally, which is amazing given that there are so few words that are actually translated.  The action is very slow and contemplative.  And of course the music is endlessly repetitive -- but I actually like that.  It really works.  Look up Satyagraha on YouTube if you're interested in seeing excerpts from it.

Last week we were in Seattle for the NABCs.  We had a super time, although the bridge was not quite as successful as we would have liked.  However, Kathy made life master (!) and we had a nice party for her -- that was a lot of fun.

A most sacrilegious murder

I've had murder on my mind quite a bit lately.  In the academic sense, of course, although I did dream I had murdered someone (unknown to me) a few nights ago.  That wasn't very pleasant.

But I've been listening to John Grisham's The Innocent Man and it is a harrowing true tale of injustice resulting from a murder which occurred in Oklahoma in 1982.  Two men were convicted of the rape and murder of a young woman, despite there being no physical evidence against them.  The little forensic evidence available did more to eliminate them from than to link them to the crime.  Nevertheless, it was used along with some other fabricated testimony to get a conviction.  One of them was 5 days from execution when a federal judge finally put a stop to all the nonsense (Oklahoma has the highest per-capita execution rate in the United States).  Soon after that, DNA evidence was analyzed which not only cleared them of all wrongdoing, but actually pointed the finger quite directly at another person who just happened to have been the last person seen with the victim, but whom the police had never considered a suspect.  The weird thing is that after their release the entire town, and especially the police and prosecutors, still believed them to be guilty.

The murder that I've been entertained by tonight was that of King Duncan inter alia by the dastardly Macbeth -- in this case in Verdi's masterpiece.  This was the Boston Lyric Opera at its finest.  I cannot remember such a good production of theirs, although I admit I don't go to many of them.  I went with Will to the Shubert Theater in Boston and we had a really pleasant evening of dinner, followed by a pre-performance lecture, followed by the opera.  The lecture, by Dr. Elizabeth Seitz, concentrated on the role of Lady Macbeth, demonstrating how her vocal part starts as confident and determined, passes through tentative, questioning, and ends rather sadly in the famous sleep-walking scene as completely unhinged.

The singers were outstandingly good.  Most of my recent opera outings have been either to the Met itself or to its HD broadcasts at local movie theaters.  While the Met talent may be more experienced and robust, there is a huge benefit as an audience member to being so much closer to the stage, which is really only practical at a smaller theater such as the Shubert.  And while, many rave about the HD broadcasts, they leave me a little cold.  There is nothing like live opera. 

While Macbeth (Daniel Sutin) and Lady Macbeth (Carter Scott) who between them carry most of the solo work (the opera also relies heavily on its chorus) were predictably excellent, I was actually very impressed Banquo (Darren Stokes) and, especially, Macduff (Richard Crawley) who have relatively minor roles.

The production was overall brilliant -- extremely imaginative designs, costumes, choreography.  Perhaps the most stunning aspect was the corpses hanging over the stage at the battles that begin and end the story.

The orchestra was excellent too, directed by (Englishman) David Angus.  Although I'd never previously seen the opera, I was already very familiar with the music from recordings and I was not disappointed in the orchestra.  I even know the 2nd clarinet, Karen Heninger, from gigs we've done together.  And, I was quite surprised to find that there was an instrument in the orchestra that I'd never seen before: the Cimbasso, a kind of tuba that looks a bit like a trombone.

I would heartily recommend this production to anyone who can get to it.  And I happen to think that Macbeth is actually one of Verdi's most entertaining operas.  The Verdi of 1846 was not quite so smooth as the when he wrote the big three from six or seven years later: Rigoletto/Trovatore/Traviata.  And definitely not as polished as the later operas of twenty or thirty years more experience.  But Macbeth is refreshing, invigorating and very direct.  The music is somewhat dark as befits its subject (plenty of bassoon and trombone stuff) but full of good tunes, with marvellous choral writing.

My personal interest in "the Scottish play" goes back almost as far as I can remember.  It was the first Shakespeare play that I learned and studied.  I think I can still do "Is this a dagger that I see before me?"  I've even been orienteering in the grounds of Cawdor castle (not very far from where the photograph at the top of the page was taken).  No doubt the real Macbeth got a bum rap at the hands of the bard, as did Richard III of England, but today his actual life signifies nothing. Yet the message of the play resonates whenever we hear of corruption and greed among the rich and powerful.

Perhaps Shakespeare's wisest line from the play, which applies to many aspects of life (take note, followers of famous people, and prosecutors and defenders of suspects in crime), is this: [Duncan]: "There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.  He was a gentleman on whom I built an absolute trust."

Robin's Rural Red Ride

Having been a BMW owner for the last 15 years or so, I had to struggle with myself not to buy another one.  They're wonderful cars to drive and the first 60,000 miles are true Fahrvergnügen. Then, as soon as the free maintenance and bumper-to-bumper warranty expire, little messages start to travel around the wires deciding which part gets to fail first. And of course the parts, which don't fit any other make of car and presumably have to be imported from Germany, are expensive.  And then there is the labor.  It's not just any old Joe Mechanic who can service such a beautiful machine.  No, these guys wear suits!

So, with some reluctance on my part, we went looking for a less costly alternative, probably Japanese but still maybe made here in the USA.  I don't spend a lot of time driving so a nice reliable car and, moreover, one that performs well in the snow and not too much of a gas guzzler, would be nice.  After quite a few test drives and much research on consumer reports, we hit upon the all-wheel drive Subaru Legacy.  And to cut a long story short, we bought 2012 model: a very pleasant shade of red.  I had traded in the BMW and was really very sad to leave it behind.  But I love the new Legacy!  I really do.  Not only have I actually visited the original Subaru (Fuji Heavy Industries) in Japan, but the Legacy is actually made here in Indiana.

The car is well-endowed, with navigation system, 3.6 litre 6-cylinder horizontally aligned engine , leather seats, all mod cons.  Even the gas mileage is decent (better than I was getting with the bimmer).  The audio has blue-tooth connectivity so that, theoretically, I can play stuff from my iPhone on the speakers.  I definitely can make phone calls hands-free through the speakers, although the voice recognition to make it truly hands-free either doesn't work, or is too hard for me to figure out.  I've since learned that there are some deliberate policy decisions which prevent certain things happening together, like voice recognition while the map is visible.  Or something like that.

The real Achilles heel of the car is the navigation system.  First, the good news.  It has the best voice that I've ever heard in a navigation system.  Really nicely done.  But after that things start going downhill a little.  The only time I've bought a factory-installed navigation system was in one of the BMWs, back in around 2000.  There were some minor problems, mainly with the accuracy of the maps, and little things like choosing non-optimum routes.  I figured that the state-of-the-art would really have improved in 12 years.

I was too optimistic.  You'd think that getting from our house to Sturbridge and back would pretty easy, right?  Not so fast.  As we were heading down I-290, we ran into a huge traffic jam which we later learned was the result of an accident.  I figured that with the navigation system, it would be easy to get off and go around it.  The manual says, press the "Dest" button and then touch Address, or whatever.  But Address wasn't sensitive (i.e was dark).  Eventually we found that double-clicking the button sometimes made the address on-screen button sensitive.  But then, actually entering the address was incredibly difficult and took several attempts.  By this time, we were pulled over on a side street so I got out my trusty iPhone.  It showed the way with no problem.  Its only drawback is that it doesn't give turn-by-turn directions audibly.  Both systems were in agreement about the first couple of turns.  Then they diverged.  We followed the car system.  It was wrong and we made a u-turn.  Then when we finally were approaching the ticket booths for I-90, the car system told us to go East instead of West (showing a route to the next exit and back).  We ignored it of course but making an error like that could easily cost 15 or 20 minutes.  On the way home, it wanted to take a bizarre out-of-the-way route, avoiding I-90 (no, it's not programmed to avoid tolls or anything like that).  I ignored it. 

One of the hardest things to do with it is to turn the darn thing off!  You'd think it would be incredibly easy to cancel navigation.  But apparently, the designers didn't think we'd want to do that.  You have to turn the whole system off before you can start over.

Fortunately, I didn't buy a GPS system because I need directions.  It's unusual that I do.  But every now and then, I'm going somewhere I haven't been before and so navigation that I don't have to break the law to use would be nice.  I mainly like these systems because I'm a map nut.  I love maps and anyone who loves maps presumably also loves the GPS system.  So, having a few errors doesn't bother me all that much.  It's more of a joke really.

But, if anyone at Subaru is actually reading this, then get off your zabuton and get the bugs out!

Katahdin

Looking towards South Peak and the Knife Edge (to the left)

Last weekend, Kim and I, with two friends Cheryl and Ginger, succeeded in our year-long goal: reach the summit of Katahdin (the "Mount" is superfluous although officially part of its name).  At 5267' (almost a mile high), Katahdin is the highest point in Maine and the 6th highest in New England.  It's also the second most prominent mountain in New England and third most prominent East of the Mississippi.  See my previous blog An Achievable Goal? for an explanation of prominence.

Being from Maine, Kim of course has a special reason to climb Katahdin and it was her goal, established last year, that we were fulfilling.  At the start of the year, I didn't think I would want to go all the way up myself.  But a funny thing happened on the way...  As Kim puts it, I got "summit fever" and became determined to get to the top.

What is it about these mountains that makes us want to climb them.  Mallory famously said of Everest "Because it's there."  And I think there is something in that.  A mountain as tough as Katahdin represents a challenge that we feel, to some extent, compelled to meet.  While there are probably more difficult trails in New Hampshire and elsewhere for that matter, what is unique about Katahdin is that there is no easy trail to the top.  All of the trails are difficult.  This contrasts with, say, Mt. Washington (6288') where there are some trails which are relatively easy.  There's also the auto road and the railroad to the summit!  But, if you want to stand on the summit of Katahdin, you must do it by your own not inconsiderable efforts.

I've written up the details of our hike here, but suffice it to say that our route requires just under 4000' of actual climbing and a total round trip of 11 miles. The hike took us 15 hours all told, including rest stops and a three-hour exodus in the dark. You can also see more photographs here and there is a video here.

Planning for the trip was considerable.  First, there were all of the training hikes, starting back in April and totaling 35000' of climbing and 110 miles for Kim and a little less than that for me.  Then the logistics of the hike itself: it's over six hours driving from our house to the parking area at the trail-head, but of course we needed to stay overnight both before and after the hike.  Then there's the little detail that only Maine residents can reserve parking spaces (there are only 35!) more than two weeks ahead of the day.  When Kim logged in at midnight two weeks ahead, there were three spaces available!  Then of course, there's the worry that the weather will turn out to be bad, or the mountain will be cloaked in clouds affording no views.  We would have rescheduled under those conditions.

So, it is with a great sense of achievement and relief that I write this.  The best time to climb Katahdin is when you're young and fit.  Three of our party are significantly past our sell-by date and that doesn't bode well for fast hiking. But we did it. And we also have a great sense of gratitude, especially to Percival Baxter, for whom the State Park containing Katahdin is named.  He was Governor of Maine 1921-25 and spent his life and fortune buying up the land around Katahdin.  Then he donated it all to the state together with an endowment to pay for its upkeep, requiring that it remain a wilderness in perpetuity.

As it turned out, the weather was absolutely perfect: cool and dry.  The only problem was that it was slightly too cool -- with patches of ice up on the summit (you can see the ice - rime to be precise - in the photo at the top).  Several trails were actually closed, making our chosen trail much more popular than it otherwise would have been.  But the views, and the feeling of elation at the top, were just incredible.  Unforgettable!

Robin, Ginger, Cheryl and Kim on top of the world

An achievable goal?

Well, I've had quite a problem with blogging this summer.  Some stories were too big to go in the blog, some were too insignificant.  Some I just couldn't describe appropriately.  There are several embryonic drafts in my folder.

Kim and I just got back late last night from our final training hike of 2011 - in preparation for the "biggie": Mt. Katahdin later this month.  Our goal yesterday was Mt. Monroe, a distinct peak on the shoulder of Mt. Washington and, as the name implies, part of the Presidential range.  At 5372', Monroe is the 4th highest mountain in the Northeastern US.  We had planned to summit Monroe then Eisenhower (4760') on our way back down which would have involved an extra 0.8 miles (in addition to the 9+ that we did) and another 300' of climb.  I was too exhausted, though, even for that.  I'm not sure why but the three-week layoff didn't help much.  More detail in my report on EveryTrail.

These hikes have to be planned quite carefully.  We need the right amount of distance and climb to fit into the training schedule.  This final training hike entailed (in practice) about 3650' of elevation gain and about 9 miles round-trip.  Katahdin (5267') will require about 3750' of elevation and more like 11 miles round-trip.  It will also require some scrambling over boulder fields and some challenging sections (but don't worry, we will not be attempting the knife edge).  So Monroe was excellent training for that.  We will also have to start very early in order to have as much light for the descent as possible, now that the days are getting shorter.  We'll probably be on the mountain for 12 hours or more.

So that's twice in as many hikes that I've missed the secondary peak (Kim got the earlier one) but it doesn't help my chances at the "48" club**.  But then I never aspired to belonging to that club anyway.  Kim isn't sure yet - she has 19 now (would have been 20 with Eisenhower) and might want to complete the other 29.

But I think I've adopted a new goal, one slightly less onerous: the eight 5000 footers of New England.  After Katahdin (fingers crossed), I will only have two to "bag": Mt Washington (which at 6288' is hard but probably no harder than Katahdin) and Mt. Adams which was planned for our Presidential range hike seven years ago but which I couldn't manage due to lack of fitness (again it was only 300' to the top but wobbly legs aren't good for climbing mountains).

But these lists of peaks have a big flaw.  They are based on a completely arbitrary value for minimum prominence: 200 ft.  Prominence is defined thus:

The prominence of a peak is the height of the peak’s summit above the lowest contour line encircling it and no higher summit.
It is in some ways a better indication than the actual elevation of the summit to the amount of climb necessary to get to the top.  This is because the starting point for an ascent is often one of the cols (or saddles) around the base of the mountain. When mountains are listed by prominence, many peaks are relegated beyond the practical limits of the list -- all of the Presidential range, for instance.  Of course, listing peaks with no prominence requirements at all would be an impossibility -- the number of peaks approaches infinity as the prominence threshold gets smaller and smaller.

There is an entire web site devoted to lists of prominence throughout the world.  In New Hampshire, for instance, there are 14 peaks with prominence greater than 2000'.  And we've climbed slightly more than half of these: Carter Dome, Lafayette, Kinsman, Moosilauke*, Carrigain*, Osceola*, Kearsage, Monadnock (*I'm taking credit here for some that Kim only has climbed).  There are 12 in Vermont, of which we have climbed only one (Ascutney).  There are 16 in Maine of which we haven't climbed any - yet, although we've been close (Bigelow's Avery Peak - West Peak).   Katahdin will be the biggie: over 4000' of prominence.  And this list makes it more important to climb Massachusetts' own Mt. Greylock: the only mountain in Southern New England with 2000' of prominence. 

I'm even looking at the lists for the British Isles.  I note that Paul and I have climbed #67 Croaghaun with 688m (2257') of prominence (this page has a great photograph) and #112 Cadair Idris (608m, 1994'). which comes just after Ben Loyal (which I would like to climb one day as we didn't have time on our last visit to Sutherland).

So, perhaps a realistic goal is to climb all of the peaks in New Hampshire and Massachusetts with at least 2000' of prominence.  Only seven to go.  Many of the Maine peaks are simply too far out of the way to be practical.

** people who have climbed all 48 of New Hampshire's 4000'-plus mountains.