Something for the hunter to ponder…

I come across deer every other day either in my neighbor’s backyard or on our patio, or by our front yard. They look at me in a bored way, as they stand barely 3 yards away, munching whatever is left of the blooming hostas.

And then I found this video, via Maggie’s Farm.  It immediately made me think of  “Schadenfreude”.   Not that I am necessarily judging.  Still, OH MY…

Which led me to one of my favorite books, Aesop’s Fables:

The Hart & The Vine

The Library of Congress has an intriguing collection of old children’s books.

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The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

I just discovered a wonderful blog,, that has captivated my attention with what the author calls The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald – the Annotated Gordon Lightfoot.  

I did not realize that the haunting song sung by Gordon Lightfoot referred to a ship that only 40 years ago ended at the bottom of Lake Superior, taking 29 souls to their grave.  Am thinking of the El Faro, that has yet to be found.

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The Heron.

I once wrote:

Blue herons hold a dear spot in my heart, even though they eat the fish in our pond.  They are majestic and very patient. I was not aware that the native Americans of the Northeast called the heron “CASCO”, of Casco Bay fame. The Wabanaki name is “kasqu”.


Because of my childhood rearing, I always associate anything to do with the animal kingdom with Aesop.  Having observed herons fish at the pond, I understand the fable:
heron A Heron was walking sedately along the bank of a stream, his eyes on the clear water, and his long neck and pointed bill ready to snap up a likely morsel for his breakfast. The clear water swarmed with fish, but Master Heron was hard to please that morning.

“No small fry for me,” he said. “Such scanty fare is not fit for a Heron.”

Now a fine young Perch swam near.

“No indeed,” said the Heron. “I wouldn’t even trouble to open my beak for anything like that!”

As the sun rose, the fish left the shallow water near the shore and swam below into the cool depths toward the middle. The Heron saw no more fish, and very glad was he at last to breakfast on a tiny Snail.

Do not be too hard to suit or you may have to be content with the worst or with nothing at all.


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Of spiders and flies: cartoons.

A while back I shared an old and allegorical poem about the spider and the fly.  I have a son who is a very talented cartoonist who specializes in bringing creatures to life (he has been doing this since he was a toddler).  So, I am always paying attention to drawings and animation of insects and animals.  I just came across this old 1936 cartoon about The Cobweb Hotel.   I do wonder whether this type of cartoon film could ever be made today…

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Of Ducks and Dynasties…

From my talented sister:

Dynasties of ducks abound,

silver  and  gold stars fill the  sky

and dreams of Autumn allure…Haiku by Cynthia-San



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Living Blood Full Moon Times…

Via Dillon Reads, an excerpt:

The Way of the Lobster….

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Handle With Care…

So much talent in a little video…

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Phyllis Dillon’s Perfidia.

Her beautiful performance of this song will forever remind me of my Father, who loved this song…

Enjoy a beautiful song, “Perfidia” by Phyllis Dillon (perfidy:  treachery):

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Fauna Near The Capital of the USA.

I returned from Maine, where hunters are getting ready for the deer the season, to my neighborhood in the Washington, DC suburbs…and these two young bucks were eating shrubs between my neighbor’s and our property. I parked our car in our driveway, and did not scare the deer. One of them lazily looked at me as I took this photo.

Deer in the suburbs of Washington DC

Deer in the suburbs of Washington DC

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Sunrise, sunset…

Sunrise, sunset…



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Of Interest: The Masculinities Theory.

Because I work with exceptional women who are experts in gender violence and rape as a weapon of war, I am sharing this article “SEXUAL VIOLENCE AGAINST MEN AND WOMEN IN WAR: A MASCULINITIES APPROACH by Valorie K. Vojdik” , thanks to Instapundit. Its challenging premise ought to make one ponder, especially if one is involved in “Rule of Law”:

Sexual violence against men during war has occurred throughout history, yet remains largely invisible. Following the mass rape of hundreds of thousands of women during armed conflicts in former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, feminist human rights advocates succeeded in persuading international tribunals to recognize sexual violence against women as a weapon of war, crime against humanity, and means of genocide. In each of these conflicts, men were also raped, castrated, and sexually assaulted, yet they are largely absent from the international jurisprudence of gender violence during war.1 Reports of rape and sexual violation of male civilians, detainees, and combatants have surfaced in over twenty-five conflicts in the past two decades alone—including Syria, Congo, the former Yugoslavia, Sudan, El Salvador, Sierra Leone, Central African Republic, Sri Lanka, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Rwanda.2 Despite its prevalence, sexual violence against men in armed conflict has remained largely hidden from view under human rights and international law and theory.

The New York Times may be reporting now, but the plight of young boys in Afghanistan has been talked about many years ago.

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Maine: Good, hearty food.

We had friends and family for dinner last Friday. Our pork loin (from a Maine supermarket) looked and tasted great paired with sweet potatoes from Virginia, small red potatoes from New York, scallions (pictured on top) from our vegetable garden. The salad bowl has tomatoes, onions, carrots, mushrooms, basil, peppers from the same vegetable garden. I was about to add romaine lettuce and arugula, home grown. We did not do anything fancy, other than roast the loin in the oven with some salt, garlic, olive oil.  We did not follow a recipe.  The only thing I can share is that we cooked the pork loin, the sweet potatoes and the red potatoes for about an hour at a 350 degree oven.  The end result: delicious.

Pork Loin

Pork Loin

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Maine: lobstering during a glorious morning…

Lobstering is not for wimps.  Actually, it is a manly man’s work:  smelly, rotten bait that must be put into bags that go inside the traps that are submerged in very cold deep and shallow waters.  Those same traps (they used to be wooden, and pretty… today they are made of wire, they are functional and ugly) are lifted up onto the boat, the lobsters are measured and chosen:  too small or pregnant female?  Back to the water you go.

At the end of the laborious work, the lobster men sell their catch, which is kept in special containers in the cold Maine waters.  At the end of the day, some of us “sit at the dock of the bay”  reflecting on a gorgeous 5 hours giving thanks for having witnessed a morning of sun, blue skies, beautiful scenery, seals, loons, cormorants, seagulls, hawks, crabs, jelly fish, and no people!!!!

If you want to learn about the trade, check out Mike Rowe’s video:

Otherwise, enjoy my pics…


Lobstering in Maine ~ lifting a lobster cage. Photo by BDH


Lobstering in Maine – Where lobstermen come to sell their catch. Photo by BDH


Lobstering in Maine – Where some of the lobster traps are kept. Magnificent! Photo by BDH


Sitting on the Dock of the Bay in Maine – Photo b y BDH

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Glorious Black-eyed Susan…

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A glorious Black-eyed Susan ~ Photo by BDH

From my garden, the glorious Black-eyed Susan:

Excerpts of odes to Black-eyed Susans:

Black-eyed Susan by John Gay (1685–1732)
ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard;
‘O! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true
If my sweet William sails among the crew.’

Black eyed Susan by Arthur Bernstein
Who is this, so tall and slender
Like a graceful maiden fair,
By the roadside in the sunshine
With her locks of yellow hair?
See you how she leans and listens
To the west wind wand’ring by
As the sun god calls and woos her
Stands the bashful maiden shy?
Must I tell you in her splendor
Her quaint old-fashioned name?
Would you know her when you meet her
With her tawny yellow mane?

Here you will find the why of the name Black-eyed Susan to a flower that belongs to the “rudbeckia” family that freely grows in the US.

As an astringent and diuretic, it was also used by Native Americans to treat sores and snakebite, dropsy, earaches, diarrhea, and various other maladies. We gardeners love it, however, because it is so easy and rustic looking and, well, just bloomin’ good!

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Ripening Apples.

The Ellsworth American, a newspaper in Maine, had a delightful poem on apples, which I reproduce below.  What I did not know is that the author of the poem, James Russell Wiggins, was the owner and editor of the newspaper, and that he had worked for The Washington Post for many, many years before retiring to Maine.

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Before there were apples that grow on the trees,
There had to be blossoms and had to be bees.
And what they were doing each day in the sun
Was as wicked and sinning as what Eve had done.
Before there were apples, bright red and so winning,
Man didn’t know when he was wicked and sinning.
The snake and the apple put people in clothing;
The apple gets loving, the snake gets our loathing.
So why were the bees all permitted to stay
In the Garden of Eden on Eviction Day?

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