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Posts Tagged ‘cardinals’

 

Hundreds of cedar waxwings swooped from the sky and landed in the tree tops as Maggie and I walked past them this morning. -- Photo by Pat Bean

 “Happiness isn’t getting what you want, it is wanting what you got.” Garth Brooks

 Travels With Maggie It’s cool, damp and overcast here in Central Texas this morning. No sliver of golden sun, or even a rose-tinted cloud to brighten the day.

 The birds, however, seem to love it.

 I watched a pair of northern cardinals, a scarlet male and a yellow and red female, chase each other around a row of cedar trees outside my RV. A chatty mockingbird watched the courtship from a utility line above the trees, then flew off, perhaps in search of its own soul-mate.

The cardinals’ splash of color helped make up for the missing sunrise. But it wasn’t until later, after my dog, Maggie, finally woke and demanded her morning walk, that the day truly seemed cheery. Hundreds of cedar waxwings swooped down and settled in the tops of several trees our walk took us past.  Immediately they began calling back and forth among themselves, filling the air with bird twitter.

Cedar Waxwing -- Photo by Ken Thomas ( http://kenthomas.us/ )

 The light was such that the birds seemed little more than dark blobs against a gray sky. A look at them through my binoculars added a bit of their color, but my knowledge and imagination had to add the rest.

Cedar waxwings are striking birds with fancy crests, rosy-brown heads and yellow bellies. Red splotches on their wings, yellow on their tail tips and a black mask across their eyes make them look as if they’ve dressed in their best feathers for a masquerade ball.

 They’re actually the partying kind. I can’t recall ever seeing just one cedar waxwing.

 These birds only visit Texas in the winter. They migrate north for the summer. Smart birds. Come warmer weather, Texans will be yearning for a cool, damp, overcast morning like today.

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A Camden, Arkansas, sunrise -- Photo by Pat Bean

“To read the papers and to listen to the news … one would think the country is in terrible trouble. You do not get that impression when you travel the back roads and the small towns …” — Charles Kuralt

 Travels With Maggie

I flushed a northern cardinal and a brown thrasher and startled a flock of Brewer’s blackbirds this morning when I first opened my RV door. This trio, along with mockingbirds, sparrows and crows, are regular visitors to my youngest daughter’s five-acre home in Camden, Arkansas.

 This small friendly town, where strangers you meet act as if you had been a dear friend for years, has no traffic jams (which I love) but also no Starbucks (which I occasionally miss). It’s greatest claims to fame are Grapette and Camark.

Gypsy Lee snug in her Arkansas temporary winter home -- Photo by Pat Bean

The first is the dark purple soda introduced in Camden in 1940. Although not ranking up there on the popularity meter with Coke or Pepsi, one can still buy and drink Grapette today. Remembering how I used to love its sweet grape flavor, I drink half of one every few years or so before overdosing on the sugary taste. These days I don’t even put sugar in my coffee or tea.

Camark was the name of a pottery plant that opened its doors in Camden in 1926. It was a thriving industry in the town for many years, but sold its last piece of pottery here in 1982. The pottery is considered quite collectible today, at least according to those who supposedly know such things.

 What I know is that Camden is a nice place to recharge my batteries for a few weeks in winter in anticipation of getting back on the road in the spring. Bonus features include a perfect sunrise view out my RV window, a visiting armadillo, an occasional ride on one of my daughter’s horses, being lulled to sleep by coyotes howling in the adjacent woods, and sightings of a pileated woodpecker that likes to sit in a tall tree at the end the long driveway.

 Oh yes! Let’s not forget the bonus of visiting with my daughter and her husband, and three young grandsons.

 Life is good in Camden, Arkansas.

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