A fresh faced post from Circleville, Ohio. Hey, I am halfway to Whipple! Julie and Bill, come on down and we will jazz up Circleville's nightlife.
The middle of Ohio is a little creepy. I passed through lots of small towns on the way, and it looked like no one was home in any of the houses...like everyone is at a Klan meeting.
And not much to do out here. Well, maybe cow-tipping. Or snipe-hunting.
I drove 80 miles, and I think I made maybe four turns. ZZZZZZZZ.
"Oh, Birding gods, smile on me tomorrow, and bring this rare, beautiful owl within photo distance."
"Oh, Parenting gods, help me refrain from locking the kids in the trunk on the way home."
21 comments:
She IS kidding, folks and any social services people who might stumble upon that blog, on that parenting gods comment. She is KIDDING.
P.S. I meant to say "this blog." That blog doesn't sound right.
Don't worry Geoff. We all know where she's comin' from :)
Good luck, again, Susan! Sweet snowy owl dreams to ya!
Social services people don't *stumble* upon this blog, we read it every day.
;-)
Susan, the only ID tip I can offer is to look for something in the distance that reminds you of a plastic grocery store bag.
Hope you get you owl!
I just read your post aloud to my daughters and we are having a good laugh. Cow tipping!...central Ohio must be dull indeed. I admire your sense of adventure and your girls are the better for it.
Good luck on your quest.
Good luck tomorrow Susan! I'm thinking about you, sending you good birding vibes - yeah!
Good luck- good luck- good luck!!!
Um, Ruth, dull? As someone born in central Ohio, and someone who has traveled extensively through central Ohio, I have to say, it's a very pretty area, even if it does lack mountains, gorges, deserts and oceans. The countryside is, really, quite nice to look at--e.g., meandering creeks, aging oak trees overlooking miles of farmland. And there's a lot more to do than just cow tipping. You can find a creek and skip rocks. You can find a cornfield and hide in it--or look at it. Heck, you can... um... there are probably some sheep you can tip over. OK, it is kind of dull, in terms of things to do, but there is something kind of quiet and remote and pretty about it. (I'm not really chagrined by your dull reference, Ruth... I'm just using your comment as an excuse to leave another comment; my wife's always getting on my case for not leaving more comments, and so now she can be pleased that I've left three in one evening.) By the way, everyone, Susan emailed me and said she was thinking of waking up at six a.m. to go look for the snowy owl. Um, yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. She loves birds, but she's not exactly an early bird. Still, if anything could get her up that early, I suppose it would be a snowy owl.
We here at the ICTA disapprove of your so-called humerous comments about cow-tipping. Cow-tipping is a hallowed tradition with a long and storied history. Cow-tippers have gone on to hold positions of authority in government, medicine, and the law. Many of our former champions now participate in other, more "main-stream" sports, such as cow-pie tossing and long distance chaw-spitting.
Please note: Cow-tipping is a specialized sport. A true cow tipper would never consider tipping a sheep. Sheep are for another sport - But, we won't discuss that here.
Sullenly,
I.M.A. Luzer, president and founding member of the International Cow-Tipping Association
Mr. Luzer,
I take great umbrage at your light-hearted and reckless remarks about cow tipping. It is people like you who give cows a bad name.
Apparently, you've never heard of the classic phrase, "How Now Brown Cow?" The nineteenth century sentence has taught many a student how to pronounce rounded vowels.
Or the expression, "Until the cows come home." Obviously, millions of people worldwide often set their most important agendas aside until we return to the homestead.
And that doesn't even begin to address our contributions to NASA.
Please, please, refrain from spreading the word about your juvenile sport. Your words upset my stomach, which is saying something, given that I have four stomachs.
Sincerely,
Buford, proud descendent of Bessie, the Cow Who Jumped Over the Moon
Rural southwestern Ontario is not a hot bed of excitement either. I am looking forward to some good bovine pics as well as that owl.
As we all know, the best bovine pic is of a smiling yak.
I'm actually more worried about the people at the Klan meetings...
Good luck, Susan. And, rest assured your blog is in good hands. We've got cow-tipping discussions, people afraid of Central Ohio, Klan meeting comments, and, of course, Social Services setting up a checkpoint on your route home to check your trunk for contraband children. It's all good.
I'm just worried that someone might mention Yak-Tipping and REALLY get things going. Oh.
Uh. I guess I just did!
Good luck finding your white plastic grocery bag! I've spotted a few that I thought were Egrets of some sort but they turned out to be plastic bags -- or big white PVC pipes.
Well, it appears that it is time for The Swami to step in (as opposed to stepping in it) and clarify a few things. Swami did not want to quash anyone's hopes of seeing a snowy owl, but I must clear up this grocery bag nonsense. If you see something on the horizon that is white and is fluttering in the breeze, it not only is not a grocery bag, but it is not likely to be a snowy owl or egret either. In all likelihood, it is a rare white yak with its long hair moving with the wind. Spotting a free-range white yak in central or southern Ohio is equal to 50 life birds.
Finally, it is considered very unsporting to try and tip a yak. The only exception is if you feel that you received exceptionally good service at The Yak Cafe.
Susan, I am assuming that Swami Yak is a member of your family. Perhaps he is related to your witty husband. If I see something like a white grocery bag in the horizon, I think I will run in the opposite direction. You'd better hurry back and rescue your blog before it changes from a serious birding blog to something featured on the Comedy Network.
Spotting a free-range white yak in central or southern Ohio is equal to 50 life birds.
I'm on my way to Ohio to help boost my pathetic life list by 50.
Snowy Owls - best viewed when windy and after a huge Walmart sale...nothing quite as fun as scanning a field and realizing that the plastic bag has yellow eyes...
Susan - I think it's too late. Your blog HAS become part of *Comedy Central* :o)
Good grief! I go on a one-day trip and you all just run amok!
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