Carolina wren

The bird of the week this week is the Carolina wren, which was visiting the back deck a lot over the winter but has not been around so much since spring really set in.

Sometimes there were two or three out there, poking about for the remains of peanuts left behind by the squirrels.  Despite the Carolina in the name they are quite common here in Pennsylvania throughout the year.  They are easily distinguished from their cousins the house wrens by their bold white eyebrows.

They also have a very bold song which sounds far too loud to be coming from a bird the size of a sparrow.  My reference renders the song as chip mediator mediator mediator chip - truly a diplomat among birds. 

It's hard to see in photos but the barring on a Carolina wren's feathers creates quite an unusual speckled look, although strangely it's a bit easier to see in action shots.

Anyway, these friendly little fellows were keeping Mrs Walles and I company a lot over the winter.  It's a shame they've left us, but then there are plenty of other critters to take their place.

Little squirrels!

I first spotted these little tykes the other evening and managed to snap some pictures of them the next morning.  There are, as far as I can tell, four little squirrels living with their mother in a nest inside a branch of a big maple out the back of our house.  Two of them are pictured here, one playing outside, and the other poking its head out of the nest and looking around cautiously.

I don't think that they belong to Myrtle - she doesn't hang around that tree much, and these little guys seem too big to have been born less than a month ago.  I did see what I assume was the mother tending to them and she didn't look very familiar - I think she visits our deck for food, but she's not the character that Myrtle is (but she is raising four pups on her own, so all power to her).

Watch out

Mrs Walles and I had to go to York earlier this week so that the government could "capture my biometrics".  It's less violating than it sounds, they just wanted my fingerprints, photo and signature.  We didn't get to see much of York itself, our business being on the outskirts, but from what I can tell, the New York is a little more exciting.

On the way back we took one of the state roads (routes, as they call them here, all with numbers, all of which everyone except me seems to be able to remember).  At a few points along the way we passed signs like this one.

That's fair enough.  There are plenty of deer here, even around towns.  We had one browse through our back yard last summer and that was just the one we saw.  They aren't that worried by people, or roads, so they are a real hazard.  More than once I've seen a carcass lying on the side of the road.  But wild deer aren't that weird to us Kiwis.  The next one isn't something you won't see back in New Zealand, though.

That's a horse and buggy, specifically the kind that the Amish like to use.  They have to use the road just like everyone else, and you'll see them out in their buggies or riding bicycles in their uncomfortable-looking, old-fashioned garb, even in the ludicrous heat and humidity that the summers bring here.  On this trip I saw an Amish man ploughing a field with a team of horses and an Amish couple tending their garden.

The generally acknowledged Amish centre in Pennsylvania is Lancaster County, around the town of Lancaster (surprise, surprise) which isn't far from where we were in York.  Unfortunately the Amish and their way of life have become such a tourist attraction that many of them have left for distant parts of the US to start a new life away from the glare of publicity.  There are still plenty there, though, and the tourists flock in their thousands to tiny places like Intercourse and Blue Ball (I know, I know) where specially built attractions cater to their every need.  It's pretty much like Rotorua or Queenstown, but in a corn field.  And, though it can feel a little exploitative and artificial, it's really great fun.  More on that another time, perhaps.

For all their differences, which are many, I do feel an affinity to the Amish in one tiny way.  Like most New Zealanders, and unlike most Americans, they dry their washing outside on a line.  That's probably where the similarities end, though.  I doubt I'll be joining them in their spiritual endeavour any time soon - I don't think I could handle the beard for a start.

Flat out

This is a squirrel we've dubbed Fertile Myrtle (the squirtle), sprawled outside our back door.  More on why she is sprawled below.

She's the most friendly of the squirrels that visit, the one that actually comes right up to the window and looks in at me to ask for more nuts.

She's also the one that we thought was a fella until her pregnancy became very obvious.  We think she's delivered, now, and judging by the nuts she's squireling away it was quite a litter.  We'll probably have six little squirrels asking for nuts in a couple of months.

If Myrtle sees that I'm near the window she will usually run down the hill and ask for nuts.  Sometimes I don't see her, but she is persistent, as you can see.

Usually she'll stand patiently on her hind legs until she catches my eye, but on the day the top photo was taken things were a lot hotter and muggier than usual as a storm front approached.  She's actually cooling down in the traditional squirrel fashion, spread-eagled on the ground.

I hope her kids realise how much effort she goes to so they can eat, slaving over a hot deck all afternoon...

Northern cardinal

It's time for the bird of the week, and this week's flashy entry is the northern cardinal, so-called because they are the colour of a cardinal's robes.

My references are silent on their theological views, though it should be noted that the females don't get the bright red, instead they are a yellowish brown.  So some might say that these cardinals have more in common with their Catholic namesakes than just the colour they wear.

Anyway, cardinals have a reputation for being a bit nasty, but from what I've seen they are fairly mellow, certainly better behaved than the blue jays.  They are around throughout the year but they are often associated with winter, I think because they stand out so well against the snow.  This one and what I assume to be his mate have been visiting daily since March, apparently drawn by the bird feeder.

They are really a bit too big to use the feeder, but this chap knocks seed from it on to the ground and goes from there.  I think I've seen him take an interest in peanuts, too.  When he visits he chirps as he eats, which is rather endearing, it's like he is having a little conversation with you.

There is also one - maybe the same one - that spends a lot of time in a tree out the front of our house.  We often see or hear it outside the window.

The females look so different from this - apart from the general shape and colour of the beak - that it took a while for Mrs Walles and I to realise that they were cardinals, too.  If I manage to snap a picture of the female I'll post a picture for comparison.

They like us, they really like us!

It's a curious thing that, although the typical American doesn't know a lot about New Zealand, quite a few are very keen on it.  This is a relatively recent phenomenon, I'm told, having started just in the last few years.  I can only assume that all the flashy tourism promotion actually does some good, though I can't help thinking that having a man on the spot charming the locals with his Kiwi ways plays a part, too.  I expect I'll get a cheque from John Key any day now.

Anyway, as proof of New Zealand's current popularity, consider this floor cleaner, spotted in the supermarket.

 

Drawing your eye away from Mr Clean (Mr Muscle's clean-living yankee cousin), you will observe that this cleaner is scented with New Zealand Springs.  It's not just floor cleaner either, here's spray cleaner with the same stuff.

For the full story we have to go direct to the source, Febreze, which lends its brand and scent to these products.

 

In case you can't make it out the can reads "Inspired by New Zealand's south island, where springs feed glacier-carved streams & verdant vistas".

So it seems that if you're the kind of person who likes to stand on lofty South Island peaks enjoying the fresh air and reflecting that no amount of money could buy all this, then the good people at Febreze have proved you wrong.  The fresh air, at least, is worth US$2.79 before tax.

I haven't bought any - I can't quite bring myself to, even out of curiosity. Somehow I doubt its authenticity.  But given that most people here think I sound like an Englishman, I doubt that they can smell the difference between my homeland and whatever comes out of those bottles.  Meanwhile, I'll stick with lemon scent, thanks all the same.

Garden decor

Last time I left off with a teaser about what people put in their gardens instead of plants, and now I'm feeling a bit sheepish because I'm short of photos to illustrate just what I mean.  Possibly this is because I'm too busy taking it all in when I come across a good specimen to snap a picture, and possibly because when I see something I want to document I'm worried that the owner might view my photographic interest with displeasure, and express that displeasure through the medium of bad language or firearms.

Anyway, whatever the reason I don't have a lot to show, but needless to say that googling for "yard decoration" will turn up plenty of examples.  You've got your gnomes and other statuary, of course, your fake flowers, your wind chimes, your little windmills and so on, which are familiar from New Zealand.  There is a lot of seasonal decoration too (inside and out).  Imagine the kind of thing that people around the world do for Christmas and multiply it by all the varied public holidays.  At the moment Easter is the theme, before that it was St Patrick's day.  First shamrocks, now bunnies.

I've got no problem with this on the whole, it's not unfamiliar even if quite a few people take it over the top.  But there are some elements which aren't so familiar.  Like the flags.

I don't mean Old Glory, though I do have plenty of examples of the stars and stripes flying outside homes. Here.

And here.

And here.  Handy if you forget which country you're in.

No, I'm talking about garden flags.  Mrs Walles and I have one, everyone does.  Some people have more than one.  They're little flags that hang down from a metal frame you stick in the ground (the middle US flag up there is really an overgrown garden flag, to give you the idea).  You can get them in all kinds of patterns, typically they are seasonal, so as you can imagine bunnies and chicks are common at the moment.  I think they're rather sweet, and I didn't suspect their existence before I came here.

Of course some people kill two birds with one stone, and fly a stars and stripes garden flag, especially around the patriotic holidays.  Now if only they made them with the design of the New Zealand flag, I'd be able to ruffle a few feathers around here...

Daffodils

Today was really the first time this season that I've been able to go for a walk.  The planets were all aligned: I had the time and the weather wasn't throwing snow or rain at me.

I learned on my brief excursion outside that I had been a little harsh in my previous assessment of American gardening.  Having previously been here only in the height of summer (when it's stifling) or the height of winter (when it's freezing and everything is covered in inches of snow and ice) I had formed the opinion that the people in these parts don't go in for flower gardens.

But the many daffodils, tulips and hyacinths I saw today proved that this isn't entirely true.  Many houses have a few little clutches of spring flowers in their front yards  It's pretty and reassuring but, I have to say, it's still not gardening as I know it.

Now I certainly don't want to tar everyone with the same brush here.  There are people who garden and in some places I am sure it is more common than it is around here.  But you can in other ways that gardening is a minority pastime.  It's mentioned very little on TV, for a start.  There is a series of ads running at the moment from the Home Depot, in which they feel it is necessary to define "perennial" and "annual".

There are quite a few keen vegetable gardeners, even among our neighbours.  But flowers don't really seem to be their thing (an interesting exception in Pennsylvania are the Amish who, I once read, edge their crops with flowers).

That doesn't mean that yards are bare, though.  Next time I'll look at some of the ways Americans decorate outside the house without recourse to horticulture.

Tufted titmouse

I've decided that I'll try to make one post a week about a different bird, which might stimulate me to get some decent photos of them (and I hope will be interesting, too).  So today we have the tufted titmouse.

 

These are friendly little birds that like our bird feeder but also visit just to pick up scraps the squirrels leave behind (though they are quite capable of taking off with an entire peanut and holding it between their feet while they shell and devour it).  Oddly, I didn't see them until this winter, which means that for two summers and a winter they were hiding in the trees out of sight.


Looking at my field guide I see that they can be attracted by making a squeaking or pish sound (that pish could be anything...bird enthusiasts seem to have a language for bird calls that is about as penetrable to the outsider as wine language).  I haven't had much luck calling birds here, most of which seem very shy.  If I can master the pish I'll be a regular Francis of Assisi.

There is something about the tufted titmouse that makes it look happy, and they act that way too.  They're quite clever as well - it says here that they cache seeds and remember where they put them.  That puts them a step above the squirrels, who cache nuts but forget where.

Most of all, though, I'm impressed that their name has survived American mores.  In a country where "cockroach" and "tit-bit" are seemingly too racy for everyday use you'd think "titmouse" would be right out.

You can't always get what you want

America is, undoubtedly, a land of plenty.  But every so often I'll come across something that just isn't easily available here.

Case in point: on her first visit to New Zealand my wife encountered cream lamingtons for the first time, and took quite a liking to them.  I haven't seen them here, but then I didn't expect to since they are a distinctly antipodean treat.  (Though I did spot something in the supermarket recently that looked like it might one day evolve into a lamington: a large angel food cake with some kind of pink icing and giant flakes of desiccated coconut attached.)

Nevertheless I thought it would be a simple matter to recreate them, it's just sponge cake, icing and coconut, right?  The icing was no problem, I could make that from scratch, and while finding the right kind of coconut took a little effort I eventually tracked some down at the little Mennonite store we frequent.  But the sponge cake...ah, the sponge cake.

There is no equivalent of Ernest Adams putting out rectangular blocks of sponge cake by the acre.  There might be elsewhere, say in New York, but here in Pennsylvania the closest thing is the angel food cake mentioned above, which is sponge cake, but always comes in a ring which is about the worst shape possible for lamington production.

So I'm forced to make my own square sponge, which means knocking up a few lamingtons for Mrs Walles is a rather more involved process than I'm used to.

Another baking basic I've yet to track down is pure golden syrup.  The best I've found so far is watered down with corn syrup and, while it looks and pours the same, it tastes wrong.  Corn syrup is used a lot here in place of cane sugar as a sweetener because it's cheaper.  It is not, I can assure you, tastier.

Still, I live in hope that I'll stumble across some (probably pricey) golden syrup.  Wikipedia tells me that it's used in Louisiana.  Sounds like a good reason to pay a visit to New Orleans, I reckon.

A chipmunk monkeying around

As mentioned earlier this week, the chipmunk has figured out how to get into our bird feeder.  Here he is tucking in.

The bird feeder is cleverly designed so that squirrels can't get into it - the cage on the outside is pulled down by their weight and blocks access to the delicious sunflower seeds within.  But chippy here is too light to pull the cage down so he can gorge to his heart's content.  And he has no scruples about it, as you can see.

This wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for his carrying capacity.  He may be only a little larger than a sparrow, but he has these nifty cheek pouches which he can stuff before carrying everything back to his den.  It's a little hard to see but they're already filling up in picture above.  For a better illustration, here's some snaps from a couple of weeks back.  First, he finds an almond and picks it up.

He could grab it in his teeth now and scurry off like the squirrels do, but no.  A few seconds of jostling and hey presto it's in his cheek pouch.

Nevermind that he looks like he's got a massive goitre, he can in principle fit one nut in either cheek and one in his teeth, which is more than the squirrels can and they're about ten times his size!

As you can imagine that the seed in the bird feeder has disappeared pretty quickly since he figured it out.

I'm not sure what to do, the difficulty is that he still looks so darned cute even when he's pilfering the seed from the birds.  He runs away if I open the door but I've got better things to do than sit around guarding the bird feeder.  I could perhaps mix pepper in with the seed, but that sounds like it might hurt him.  So maybe the birds and I will just have to live with him and his antics.

I'll keep you posted.

Blue jay

More critters today, this time the feathered kind.  I figured that after my airy fairy post two days ago emphasising uncertainty that we could do with some certainty to balance things out.  And there is nothing uncertain about these critters - they are definitely here.

I was about to add that they are as delightful as they seem, which is generally true, but in fact my subject today does have some less delightful traits.  Here is a blue jay that visited after lunch.

Blue jays are stunning, but they also terrorise other birds.  They're cowards, though - you wouldn't believe how hard it was to get these pictures because they can see me through the window and don't land if I'm near.  Today, though, I was wearing neutral colours and standing still, and the temptation of peanuts was just too much for this one.

Even so, this is the only picture I got of it standing still, all the rest are action shots.  If you can stand a little blurriness here is a picture that shows off the plumage a bit better.

They're quite big, about thirty centimetres long.  And they are very common in this part of the country.  I don't think there is another bird I see quite so much of all year round.

Next time, more chipmunk pictures, including some shocking ones showing that he, too, can be less than delightful.

Wildlife out the window

I was looking out the window wondering what I could write about today when a topic hopped into view.

That's an eastern cottontail, which is a bit different from the ravaging hordes of rabbits I'm used to in New Zealand.  For one thing, it isn't in a ravaging horde.  For another it isn't at all afraid of humans - hence it was happy to sit outside the window while I took its picture.  Last summer I often had a bunny companion on the lawn while using the grill (or barbecue as I used to call it before I discovered real barbecue). 

Of course they aren't a pest here, except perhaps to vegetable gardens, and there are too few of them to cause much trouble even there.  They like the morning and evening best, but they are out all day like this one, taking the afternoon air.

There are other differences, too.  They are a bit squatter and have shorter ears than the rabbits I'm familiar with, and they don't burrow apparently.  All in all they are just another cute furry critter.

The critters are out in force today.  The chipmunk has learned how to get at our bird feeder, so he's having a field day.  One of the squirrels that visits regularly, that we though was a he, turns out to be a very pregnant she and has been asking for more nuts now that she's eating for up to seven.  The birds are about, too.  Blue jays and wrens are after the nuts.  Finches, sparrows and cardinals are eating seed from the feeder.  Robins are scratching on the lawn, and I even saw a woodpecker poking around in the grass.  It's like a Disney movie out there!

A disclaimer

In writing this blog I'm bound to attribute a lot of things to Americans that don't really apply to all Americans - indeed I've probably done it already.  I don't mean stereotypes, which I hope to avoid, but the danger of generalising from the people I have encountered to those I haven't.  Because they aren't all the same.  Far from it.

Take, for example, the classic stereotype that American service is excellent, but insincere.  I believe there are places - though I haven't personally visited them - like Los Angeles and Southern California generally that this is true. Visitors to those places have the stereotype reinforced each time they go.

I can personally attest, though, that neither part of the stereotype applies in heartland Pennsylvania.  Here the service can be good or bad, but either way it is generally very sincere.  They're good, salt of the earth types, and I just don't think they have any time for putting on a show.  Even in New York City, where service generally depends on how much you're willing to fork over, I have many times experienced spontaneous and sincere offers of help - the hotel doorman who hails you a cab, or the theatre usher who offers to take your photo.

The point is that attitudes vary widely in the US and it is a point I didn't really appreciate before I came here.  Of course I didn't think Americans were all cookie cutter duplicates.  But I didn't appreciate that their differences from one another might outweigh their similarities.  I'm still not sure exactly how diverse they are, but it is a lot more than I expected.

The differences cut across each other.  There are geographical differences, ethnic and racial differences, language differences, religious differences, educational differences and who knows what other kinds of social differences.  There are individual idiosyncrasies, too, but if you look carefully you can identify characteristics that are common among, say, New Yorkers, or rural Pennsylvanians or urban Jews.  Take the whole nation, though, and it is a lot harder to pin down those commonalities.

I'm not sure why this is.  Individualism is a virtue here, but is that a cause or an effect?  It is a documented fact that before independence the thirteen colonies that made up the fledgling United States (pop quiz, can you name them?) had more to do with the mother country than with each other, so even in the beginning this country was diverse.  More recent immigration from far-flung parts of the world was no doubt another contributor.  And when the land itself varies so much, from snow-capped mountains to vast plains to deserts to forests to swamps, you would expect the people to vary to match.  Enough of my half-baked theories, though.

The upshot of all this is that it is hard to generalise from the Americans I meet to Americans in general, and I ask you, gentle reader, to keep that in mind.  When you see me boldly state that Americans do this or think that, always attach a footnote in your head reading "at least the Americans I have encountered".  And if, by chance, you happen to be one of those Americans I haven't encountered, feel free to correct me where I stray from the truth.

Don't save the sceptical treatment just for me, though.  Do it whenever you hear a weary traveller report on their experiences.  I remember in New Zealand often listening on the radio to talking heads just returned from LA or, rarely, New York or further afield, reporting on the attitudes or behaviour of the American people.  Now I know just how suspect those reports were.

Mind you, that hasn't stopped me from doing pretty much the same thing in this blog.  Just consider yourself warned.

Wings

Here is a public service announcement for any travellers to the United States: don't forget to try the wings.

Finally, someone found out what you're supposed to do with chicken nibbles.  First deep fry them, then smother them in delicious, spicy sauce, then consume with blue cheese dressing, celery and gusto.  They call them Buffalo wings, I call them a gastronomic delight.

They are very widespread here as a starter, though I'm told that there are also places that specialise, offering dozens of variations.  I stick with the mild sauce as a rule, sweet and spicy (exactly how spicy depends on who was holding the cayenne pepper, I think).

It is possible that someone has already attempted to bring these to New Zealand.  I've never encountered them there, but if they exist they must be a poor attempt because if the real thing was available I'm sure they would sweep the nation like a sweet and spicy wildfire.

They are called Buffalo wings (mostly people just call them "hot wings" or "wings", though) because they were invented in Buffalo, New York.  The story I heard was that a traveller arrived late to a hotel one night, wanted food, and this was what was cobbled together.  Wikipedia tells me this is only one of several creation myths and even then I haven't got it quite right.

However it happened and whoever was responsible, I'm just thankful that they exist.

Talking turkey

I spend a lot of time watching the birds here.  There's robins, blue jays, finches, wrens, starlings and more.  In the summer there is the occasional hummingbird which is exciting.

But this morning I was looking out and chanced to see this fellow scratching at the ground.

It (I think "he", what they call a tom, but I'm not quite sure) is a wild turkey.  I've only seen one here once before, briefly by the side of the road.  They're shy birds so they don't really hang about people much.  This was quite an unusual event, then.

The first thing I have to say about it is that it was huge.  I've seen pictures, I've seen farmed turkeys from afar, and I've eaten them too (in fact there's the remains of one of this chap's domesticated cousins in the fridge as I type; I'm feeling a bit bad about that now).  None of this prepared me for the tom I saw this morning.  It seemed to be almost a metre tall (that's three feet in the old money), which my references inform me is typical for the eastern wild turkey.  From tip to tail they are three to four feet long.  It's not as scary as a bear, I'll grant you, but I still wouldn't want to run into one of these in a dark alley.

The second thing that struck me is that it doesn't look anything like depictions of turkeys I've seen before.  If it wasn't for the big bare red neck and the size of the thing I might not have put two and two together. In shape and motion it looks a bit like a pukeko.

The colouring, which isn't that easy to make out here, is generally brown but also iridescent green and blue.  In just about every picture I've ever seen of a turkey, though, they're depicted looking like an explosion at a feather factory, with tail fanned and chest puffed out.  That is, in fact, the mating display of the male.  Most of the time they adopt this more modest, compact form.

My reference also tells me that Benjamin Franklin lobbied to make the turkey the American national bird, and I can see why.  This one certainly had a majestic look to it as it strolled through the snow.  Though admittedly it looked more comical than majestic when it ran back up the hill after I opened the door to get a better picture.

I hope it comes back.