GOING, GOING, GONE...

Well, it didn't work.  The hunger strike, I mean.  Mostly because...well, Miss Creative's sister roasted this chicken last night...and...well...

So here I am, stuffed into an automobile with four human beings, six suitcases, five large chocolate cakes (I can't imagine what THOSE are for), AND A LARGE DOG COVERED WITH CURLS.  And we are traveling at sixty miles an hour.

Maybe in my NEXT life I will find out why we are doing this...

A DREADFUL REVELATION

I have just today realized that readers of my blog are leaving COMMENTS.  (This is NOT the dreadful revelation.)  And one of the comments read,  "a little bird says I will be going on yet another trip".  I knew that reader was wrong, of course.   Had somehow gotten things mixed up.  Except...I just heard Miss Creative and her sister making plans...

....and we are leaving tomorrow morning on another trip.  


This is the dreadful revelation.  I am shocked.  Flabbergasted.  Speechless.  To think Miss Creative would actually contemplate ANOTHER JOURNEY.  And even worse, SHE WOULD CONSIDER DRAGGING ME ALONG WITH HER.  But this time I am not going.  I refuse.  Absolutely.  If necessary, I will go on a hunger strike.  Starting now.  (And I haven't even had my supper yet.)  NO MORE TRIPS.

A DISCOVERY...

It was perfect weather for my flying excursion today.  Except that both short dash and long distance performances were...embarrassing.  (Don't tell anyone, but I'm shamefully out of shape.  That's what comes from sitting on Miss Creative's mantlepiece for forty years.)

More rewarding was the foraging.  Spent several hours in wait on the porch...

...observing rabbits, birds, moths and butterflies, a small garter snake...and this juicy chipmunk, who carelessly paused to scratch his ear directly in front of me...

...with the result that after a very busy afternoon, my storage bags and pantry are now nicely over-stuffed with fresh supplies...

And the discovery?  I overheard Miss Creative talking at the breakfast table with her sister.  (Eavesdropping---the only way I can get any information in this household.)  It seems that dear Miss Creative actually is planning on purpose to spend summers on Cape Cod, winters in Phoenix.  So, contrary to appearances, Miss Creative is NOT losing her mind.  She's merely becoming a Migratory Creature.  Why didn't she tell me?  I would have understood.  I know all about Migratory Creatures.  In fact, some of my best friends are Migratory Creatures.

It's evening now---my favorite time.  (That tiny blip I'm looking at is the moon.)

I'll keep you posted...

NEVERTHELESS...

The day did not go as planned.  (When does it ever?)  Rain, fog, and overcast skies interfered.  NEVERTHELESS...

...I did make note of several promising pine trees.  True, the pine trees around here are nothing like the pine trees I'm USED to---rather anaemic specimens.  But they are pine trees...

...I also confirmed to my complete satisfaction the existence and location of three or four chipmunk byways...

...But the vigorous excursion planned for today was cancelled due to adverse weather.  NEVERTHELESS...I stepped outside just now to examine the western sky, and all signs point to WARM TEMPERATURES and  SUNNY SKIES in the very near future.  Perhaps my excursion can take place tomorrow...







(To those of you who for some strange reason might be interested in Miss Creative's activities:  Today SHE pumped up her bicycle tires; cleaned out a refrigerator; did three loads of laundry; and went off on a little expedition in her car without taking me along.  Typical.)

 

SETTLING IN?

I have no idea how long I'll be here...or when I will once again be snatched up and transported AGAINST MY WILL to yet another...building?  state?  country?  universe?

In the meantime---no time for any watching and looking today.  Too many overdue housekeeping tasks.  Recycled, and threw out garbage.  (Quite a buildup after the past ten days.)  Relined nest with fresh moss.  (Though it still needs tidying).  Replenished pantry at nearby store.  (They must know about owls because they had some of my favorite food items.)

My plan for tomorrow includes:

• Investigate nearby pine trees for possible living or sunbathing sites
• Follow up rumors of careless chipmunks in neighborhood
• Indulge in REAL exercise (that means FLYING---by OWL WING)

Time for sleep.  Miss Creative opens the window here at night.  I don't know what SHE gets out of it---but I can hear all sorts of delicious sounds---tender insects chirping in the weeds, fat moths bumping against the glass, the scurry and rustle of a plump reptile in that heap of rocks...

By the way---don't tell Miss Creative I said this---but actually I'm a little bit homesick for Phoenix...

UNWELCOME TRAVEL

A day of airports and crowds and planes.  And other unpleasant events.   Now I'm HERE.

Oh.  I forgot.  You can't see in the dark.  Well, I'm back on Cape Cod.  Dragged here by dear Miss Creative.  I can't think what she's up to.  She's lost all control.  Turned flighty.  Or something.

I'll get back to you tomorrow.  

A NEW DEVELOPMENT

Today my couch reappeared.

But is my life going to settle down now?  Of course not.  It seems that Miss Creative is getting on an airplane tomorrow.  And taking me with her.  Whether I want to go or not, I might add.   AND WE'RE FLYING BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED FROM.  Did you ever hear of such ridiculous shenanigans?  Why can't dear Miss Creative just make up her mind?  

And all that talk about a house for me?  Talk---just talk.  Is it any wonder that my feathers are so ruffled?  

IT FINALLY HAPPENED...

Look at me.  I'm done for.  And you know why?















Well, this is what started it.

This behemoth truck.  It showed up yesterday morning before I'd even finished my breakfast.  And as soon as it appeared---COMPLETE TURMOIL!  I retreated to the closet and sulked waited patiently for hours and hours while feet tramped back and forth, voices shouted, things banged and bumped and thudded.  Finally---quiet at last.  Time for a nice sunbath to soothe my jangled nerves.  But when I opened the closet door, my couch had disappeared.  Instead...everywhere I looked...

                                   ...boxes...

...hour after hour...boxes...

...all night long...
...boxes...
...boxes...
...boxes...

Now it's forty-eight hours later, and I still haven't found my couch.  I haven't slept a wink since that truck arrived, I still haven't had a sunbath, and my poor nerves are still completely frazzled.  This has all been too much for me.  Much too much.  Maybe I'll give up on the couch.  For now, at least.  Go to bed instead.

 If I can find the bedroom, that is....

BAKED, FRIED, AND BOILED

The past few days have been torture.  Seems to be my lot in life.  I've been dragged around in an automobile with Miss Creative, her daughter, and her daughter's fiance, for hours and hours on end.  We've driven to hardware stores, building supply stores, drugstores, supermarkets, appliance stores, libraries, and probably hundreds of other stores as well.  Too many to even remember.  Each time we stop, THEY all get to go into the air conditioned store.  Of course.  But do I?  NO.  I get left in the backseat of the boiling hot car, in the boiling hot parking lot, under the boiling hot sun.  My brain is cooked.  And has anyone thought that I might get thirsty while I was sitting there waiting?  Or hungry?  No.  I've lost half my weight since arriving.

Speaking of hunger---there's no refrigerator here.  Did you ever hear of such a thing?  Just this big ugly empty space.

That means no fresh mice for me, of course.  Nothing but crusts and water.  When Miss Creative moves me into MY house (IF that ever happens...and I'm not holding my breath) a refrigerator will be number one on my list.

There is one bright spot in this house of Miss Creative's.   It's this corner in the livingroom.

It's a good place to sunbathe in the mornings.  And I get a good view of the---well, I was going to say "lawn"  But there's no lawn.  I'd hardly even call it a yard.  Let's say that I get a good view of the DIRT outside.  Haven't seen any mice yet.  But I HAVE seen something called geckos.  (I looked them up in the Audubon Guide Book.)  And strange things called lizards.  And small, tasty-looking birds...

Some kind of a commotion going on.  Sounds like a big truck...a lot of voices...I'm going to retreat to the closet for the moment...

Well, things have quieted down, and Miss Creative's gone over to her daughter's house.  So I'm just going to take a quick peek, see what's going on...

PINE WOODS AND FIR TREES!  That's what the commotion was---delivering this thing!  Did you ever SEE such a refrigerator?  It's big enough to...why, it could hold maybe 3 million mice!  In fact...I believe I could LIVE in this refrigerator.  In the freezer section.  With the door open, of course.  The downstairs part would be for storing the mice...  

Do you think Miss Creative changed her mind, and she means for THIS to be my new home?  I don't think I'd mind a bit...

INVESTIGATING...

I tell you, I'm still in shock. A house for me? I probably imagined it. Yes, I imagined it. But---what if it's really true?

Well, go look. Now. While Miss Creative is off somewhere.

All right, I'm going to explore...(I think I'm hyperventilating...I may not survive this...) So here I am, starting out in the living room...

...now the kitchen...so far no house for me, of course...

...and this must be dear Miss Creative's studio...

...and the guest room...(notice that in this house, even GUESTS have a room to themselves, but do I? NO.)

...and HER bedroom....STILL no house for me...I KNEW it...it wasn't true after all...

...but wait a minute...there's something out that window...something...something that looks like...like a...

...like that house for me. I can't believe it. A house for me. Me, Bessie Beetum.

You know what? Maybe Phoenix won't be so bad after all. I'll keep you posted.

A SHOCK

I'm exhausted. And deaf. And squashed flat. Yesterday I suddenly got bundled up by dear Miss Creative into that horrible plastic bag again...stuffed into what was surely an already overstuffed suitcase...and then---while still inside that hideous suitcase---buffeted this way and that by who knows WHAT...assaulted by tremendous droning and whining and roaring noises that went on and on and on for HOURS...buffeted and flung about once more...Until I was suddenly removed from the suitcase and released from the plastic bag...and this is what I saw:

Dear Miss Creative's new home. Right next door to her daughter's home. And had anyone bothered to explain all this to me? NO---I deduced this from the squealing and screeching and hugging that I observed taking place. So some of Miss Creative's move to Phoenix, Arizona makes just a tiny bit of sense to me. But that doesn't turn this...this...BUILDING...into any more of a home for ME. I always wanted a hollow tree of my own, remember?

Right now, Miss Creative is taking me on a tour of the inside of HER new home. (I confess---I am keeping my eyes shut. Right now I can't bear to look. It just isn't fair. This is the place where I, Bessie Beetum, am going to be imprisoned for the NEXT forty years. Maybe later, when I feel stronger...)

Now Miss Creative is taking me out into the back yard. Something else she wants to show me, she says. Something just for me. Something I've always wanted. Can't say that I trust her. She has no idea what I want. She's never asked.

I'm still keeping my eyes shut. But now...I feel fresh air on my feathers...I hear other birds chatting...and it smells just a little...Mousey?

Don't say a word to Miss Creative. I've got to take a peek. Just for a second. Just to get a glimpse of whatever it is that has that poor deluded creature so excited on my behalf...

This is for ME? Just for ME? It's not a hollow tree, that's for sure. But...just for ME?

I feel weak...I need to lie down...I'll get back to you later...

MORE SURPRISES

After yesterday---well, that was the end. The end of me. The end of talking. At least that's what I thought yesterday. But today was so---well, you just wouldn't believe it. It was so...so...Oh, I simpy must keep talking. And today started out fine. For once the plan was a sensible one: spend a restful day with Miss Creative's sister. Exactly what I needed---rest. But is that what I got?

NO. Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, I found myself stuffed into dear Miss Creative's backpack,

bundled into a car, and then dumped out in the middle of nowhere. To wait for a bus. (All because of a little fog, it seems. Or something like that. Something about how small planes can't fly in fog, stupid things that they are. Though what that had to do with anything, I have no idea. I of course have no trouble flying in fog.)

So I found myself on a bus. A bus. Can you imagine? And that was only the beginning. Hours and hours trapped on that bus. Hours and hours squashed into that backpack. I nearly suffocated.

It's only now, looking out the hotel window, that I feel at all comfortable. Because of the big tall pine tree right outside. (It's dark, so you can't see it, but of course I can.) There's a plan for tomorrow. It has to do with big planes that can fly in the fog. But I'm not going to bother saying any more about it. Because it probably won't happen. Especially if it involves something I want. You see what I mean about Miss Creative saying one thing, and doing another? I probably won't sleep a wink tonight, after a day like this.

EVEN WORSE TORTURE

It wasn't my imagination after all. This morning a moving truck really did come. And a driver. And...

But what happened

after that was just too horrible.

I can't talk about it.

You may never hear

from me again.....

A DAY OF TORTURE

Well, I'm still here. Packers really did come today. The result? Complete chaos, as you can see. What you can't see is my brain---thoroughly addled. Not surprising, since I've been trussed up in a plastic bag all day. Supposedly to keep me safe. But really to keep me out of the loop. Dear Miss Creative only now unwrapped me. I've done my wing flaps, and some deep breathing, too. But I'm still muddled. I actually thought I heard talk about a moving truck and a driver. Arriving at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. That can't be. Too ridiculous.

It's getting dark. Time for a snack. And some serious thinking. I'm going to figure out a way to make Miss Creative change her mind about this silly move. I'll keep you posted.