A Scrub Jay passed out in my hand one day so I could free it from my garden

My resident Scrub Jay.

I got to hold a Scrub Jay once when it got trapped in my garden.

 

That was cool. And especially cool that I found it all, because it was winter and I hadn't been in my garden for weeks.

 

But something made me walk out to it that evening. And I saw the jay, frantically trying to fly away but never leaving the fence because the netting I used months earlier to protect my cherry tomatoes (from thieves like jays) was wrapped around one of its legs. 

 

I put on my gardening gloves and reached for the bird. After a few tries I got my hand around its wings and felt it go limp immediately, likely collapsing from exhaustion and fear.

 

I cut off the netting easily with scissors, but still couldn’t free the jay because the talons of its foot were closed around the top of the fence. I had to carefully open those long, sharp talons before lifting the jay away from the fence, relishing being so close to a bird’s foot while still keenly aware that at any moment it could awaken and injure me.

 

Once the bird was free from the fence, I saw that the netting was digging into its leg, so I laid it down in a pot of dirt to perform surgery, carefully cutting off as much of the black netting as I could.

 

But I couldn’t get it all, some of it was just too tight. I stopped and stood over the still bird for a few moments, trying to decide if should get my seam-ripper and try to remove more netting, though I would be risking injuring the leg even more.

 

Deciding it was worth a try, I reached to pick the bird up again to carry it with me, but it was done with my help and scrambled up to fly away clumsily, dropping into the bushes as soon as it cleared the fence. 

 

Worried the jay might not have survived its ordeal after all, I checked the bushes the next morning but it was gone. And now every time I see a scrub jay at my feeders I scan their legs for a tiny black bracelet. 

 

But I haven’t seen one yet. And yes, I cut the rest of the netting off the fence and never used it again.

I saw a skunk tail in all its glory ... right before it sprayed my dog in the face

I saw a skunk tail in all its glory last night, sticking straight in the air and fluffed out like peacock feathers.

That was cool.

Unfortunately, that was seconds before my dog ran straight at the skunk and got sprayed in the face, so it ended up not being cool.

Even less cool, I’m pretty sure that was the fifth time she has gotten sprayed by a skunk. I think I’ve lost count. But I’ve definitely lost hope that she will ever learn to leave them alone.

However, one of the cool things about the Internet is this recipe I found to help get rid of the smell. (Don’t even bother with tomato juice. Didn’t do a damn thing but turn my dog and me into a wet blob of skunk-smelling tomato sauce).

Here is what works: one quart hydrogen peroxide, ¼ cup baking soda and one teaspoon dish soap.

These instructions from the Humane Society of the United States take you through the rest of the process. (Funny enough, the canine culprit in their photo looks a lot like mine).

I now keep those ingredients on hand at all times just in case, but the Humane Society suggests that you can use vinegar diluted with water in a pinch.

Staging a fake crash? Make it as shocking as possible, please.

One of the student actors is put through the car's windshield.

I recently watched a group of teenagers act out a fatal crash in front of Ukiah High School, and one of the organizers made tons of fake blood to cover the kids and cars with because she wanted to make the scene look as real as possible.

That was cool.

Because while some might think such displays are too graphic, I think they can never be graphic enough.

When I was in high school, my mother was killed in a car that a 17-year-old boy had driven into the path of a semi-truck. Overnight, the “Hamburger Highway” films we had been giggling at in Driver’s Ed went from silly to unwatchable. But just for me, not for my classmates.

So as I stood next to hundreds of teenagers watching a staged DUI crash last week, many of them laughing as I once did at carnage we knew wasn’t real, I couldn’t help thinking that no amount of fake blood or fellow teenagers writhing in pretend pain could come close to having the impact needed.

Unless you’re in a crash yourself, or you visit an accident scene to find your mother’s shoe on the side of the road, I’m not sure what other visuals could bore the tunnels of pain necessary to keep anyone, let alone teenagers, from making stupid decisions behind the wheel.

Because only six months after seeing the twisted metal that crushed my mother’s legs, I too felt the rush of freedom and power that comes from driving as soon as I got my license. I had it maybe a month before I got pulled over. All it took was two friends in the car and the radio blasting for me to start acting stupid.

But as futile as most attempts to make teenagers grasp the dangers of driving will be, I fully support all of them. Just please make them as shocking and painful as possible, because only those will have a real chance of making a difference.

Such as one aspect of the events staged at Ukiah High School I think might have the necessary impact. It won’t be the wounds oozing food coloring or the boy sprawled on the hood after crashing through the windshield. It won’t even be the boy who gets handcuffed by a California Highway Patrol officer because he was drunk while crashing into another carload of teens, killing two of them.

No, it will be the letters shared between some children and their parents after their deaths.

Twenty-four Ukiah High kids will have “died” after the fake crash when the Grim Reaper pulls them out of their classrooms and their lives for 24 hours. They will make their own tombstones and exchange good-bye letters with their parents.

And those letters might actually make a difference. If their parents can make them understand what a hole they will leave behind, how the adults will grieve for the years they expected to watch their children grow into adults themselves, that might be heartbreaking enough to make some of those children take the responsibility of driving a little more seriously.

And then if they look at all of the other faces in their car and imagine those children’s parents waiting for them to come home as well, maybe they’ll take it even more seriously.

So I say bring on the fake horror. If it saves just one person from the real horror of a fatal crash, it will be worth it.

Got something you don’t want anymore? Bet a Trading Time listener will take it.

When our microwave died, I put in the garage and figured it would sit there about a year before I dragged it to the dump. But less than two weeks later, I heard a man on a local radio show who wanted it.

That was cool.

Jay, left, and Alice hosting Trading Time with me listening in.

The show is called Trading Time, a Mendocino County original that airs on KZYX&Z every Saturday morning at 11 a.m. When I first moved to Ukiah several years ago, I wondered why anyone would ever willingly listen to it. Now I never miss it. 

Which is why two Saturdays after the little motor that rotated the glass plate inside our microwave died a fiery death, I heard a man announcing that he was looking for microwaves, working or not, because he wanted to use their parts.

So I called him. “How much do you want for it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “You’re saving me from taking it to the dump. You can have it.”

My husband didn’t want me to call microwave man. He didn’t think it was possible that some stranger would come to our house, pick up the microwave, and then both would disappear from our lives forever.

But I had listened to Trading Time enough to get a feel for the type of people who called in. And I had a feeling that this man would do what he said.

And he did. I gave him our address and told him I’d leave the microwave in the front yard when I went to work. When I came home that day, the microwave was gone. And I never heard from microwave man again.

So, got something you don’t want anymore? Call Trading Time. I’ll bet someone who listens does.

Read more about how the show started and some of its former hosts in this Ukiah Daily Journal story: “The weird, wonderful world of Trading Time.”

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Blue Jay: a funny, touching movie about how sad it can be to grow up

 

Watched a movie recently that I’ve been thinking about even more than Manchester by the Sea and Moonlight, even though I thoroughly enjoyed both of those films as well.

It’s called Blue Jay and was written by Mark Duplass, who stars in it with Sarah Paulson.

The plot is spare, and there’s really only two characters: a man and woman who dated as teens, then moved away from their hometown to live separate lives.

The movie begins 20 years later when they run into each other at the grocery store while each has come home for a bit. They’re very awkward at first, but then they begin opening up and remembering how much fun they had together. 

I really enjoyed just watching them interacting and waiting to find out why they ever broke up, which the movie takes its time in revealing.

A warning: the movie could serve as a heartbreaking reminder of how deeply sad it can be to become an adult. But it’s an admirable piece of work and a fun time, especially if you like both actors and you were in high school in the early 1990s.

Need another plus? You can stream it on Netflix!

Miss Mendocino contestants deserved more time on stage in their own event.

Four young ladies competed for the title of Miss Mendocino 2017 Saturday night in Ukiah, where they sang, danced and shared their thoughts on current events.

That was cool.

Unfortunately, after watching all two-plus hours of the pageant, I knew little more about the contestants than what was written in the program.

That’s because so much of the ceremony was devoted to the “celebrity guests,” one of whom had no ties to Mendocino County. In fact, the professional opera singer admitted she was visiting the area for the first time to attend the pageant held Feb. 4 at Ukiah High School.

No matter your opinion on what assets are being celebrated, the purpose of local pageants is to celebrate the attributes of local residents. And since there were only four contestants this year, the organizers had the perfect opportunity to give each young lady more time in the spotlight.

Instead, they seemed to focus on the visitors rather than the home team. I didn’t keep track with a stopwatch, but I’d bet each celebrity guest was given at least twice as much stage time as each contestant.

Chris Pugh - Ukiah Daily Journal

For example: instead of giving the professional opera singer, who spends her daily life on stage, at least twice as much time to sing than any of the contestants were given, I think each contestant should have been given more time to showcase her talent. And instead of shuffling the local girls off the stage as soon as they finished performing to give more time for “visitations” with the celebrities, why not ask each girl why she chose the skill she wanted to share, and perhaps let her explain how hard she worked to perfect it?

And when I consider how much money each of the girls’ families spent on multiple outfits, especially an evening gown, I can’t help but think that a few more minutes could have been spared to give each girl more time to wear those outfits with her family watching, providing the “Cinderella Moment” that was the theme of the event.

And while one family member is invited to escort each lady in her evening gown, there was also plenty of time to ask that family member what makes them the most proud of the contestant, and why they feel she should be representing Mendocino County.  

Again, in stark contrast to the life of the opera singer and the other celebrity guest, this might have been the last time some of the contestants get an opportunity to stand on stage at all, let alone with their families and their town cheering them on. Why not give them as much time up there as possible?

I mean, that’s the whole point of a local pageant. Right?

Dog owners chip in to improve Ukiah dog park

While their dogs ran around, some owners cleaned up their play area.

At the dog park in Ukiah, one of its regular users started an impromptu work party Saturday morning.

That was cool.

The recent onslaught of rains had turned the lower part of the park into a swamp, caking dogs and owners in mud on their way in and out.

So the user spent his Saturday bringing a wheelbarrow and shovels to the park, then set about moving wood chips to the mucky entrance to create a drier platform.

When other dog owners saw what he was doing, a few of them chipped in to help, turning one man’s idea into a community effort. 

Their actions reminded me of my favorite line in Barack Obama’s farewell address: “If something needs fixing, then lace up your shoes and do some organizing.”