Without blame: the case of the chile patch killer

Well it never really was a mystery as to who is periodically leaving a trail of feathers and blood in the garden.

Let’s just say A Feline of Interest and Number One Suspect is getting so brazen that they now spend afternoons on the front porch sleeping away the dastardly deeds of the dawn. Yes in the same area where once, a few months ago, swallows nested. Felonious feline is risking being booked for violation of the Migratory Birds Treaty Act of 1918 too though it claims I can’t prove a thing. I’m compiling a dossier anyway.

I don’t do the codependency thing of pets, not any more. I have enough relationships to take care of with this very needy, but very beloved and venerable octogenarian of a house, Red Pony, Janis truck, 2 kayaks, a canoe and the Garden of Earthly Delights. It’s almost a full time task just just keeping bird baths clean, mosquito breeding prevention treatments up to date, and full of fresh water for roommates and wayfarers alike. But then it’s a thing to do with a one wild and precious life. (Thank you Mary Oliver for words to live with)

I do have a small animal trap for relocating problem mammal trespassers. They go to the animal shelter where people who think they can own a cat pay for the experience of failure to force a feline into emotional bondage, and the cycle of trespass starts all over.

The trap has been idle all summer while Western Tanagers (Piranga ludoviciana) joined the throng flipping me the bird to gorge on grapes and figs outback. I ponder the advantages of a predator in the grand scheme of things. It seems like a good system design, given the proliferation of Hungry Birds and the fact that there might be signs of mice wanting to join the menagerie of roommates too. Ah balance, always the elusive balance.

I doubt this quick little (probably) female black chinned hummingbird (Archilochus alexandri) will ever fall prey to The Chile Patch Killer. It’s rarely still long enough to take a picture. Or at least that’s my excuse for the poor quality images, and I’m sticking to it.

Meanwhile the bokkie block is being printed on everything and I’m digging and dividing Iris germanica in the cool of dawn. It’s time.

The Iris plantings have gotten way too crowded. I divided some in early summer after they had flowered and before it got too hot. The task helped to root me back here on this desert earth after being over there, barefoot on a beach in the Old Country. There are still quite a few more clumps to thin.

Some rhizomes will be redistributed at farmers market this Saturday.

If you can’t come to market and would like to nurture a stand of these spectacular, tall imperial purple beauties (all women are queens, thank you Marianne and Ishmael), with (almost) black falls and fiery beards, let me know. Unless you are lucky enough to live in Hawaii, Alaska or anywhere outside the contiguous USA. Agricultural customs forbids me to mail to those places.

Earworm of the week, wherever you get your tunes:

Without Blame: sung by Marianne Faithfull and Ismael Lo, written by Ismael Lo, Etienne Roda-Gil (French lyrics 1994) and Roger Waters (added English lyrics 1995)

Toutes les femmes sont des reines ...

But some are more eager than others.

Some shatter a man's dream

By breaking away from their lover.

Cette chanson pour cette reine

Qui dit à son roi, "Maintenant ...

I am gone, gone with the wind."

The love that you would not defend with your life

You cannot befriend always tears in your eyes.

I am gone, gone with the wind,

I am gone in search of a new king.

Toutes les femmes sont des reines,

Sur terre, sur mer, neige ou désert.

Derrière le voile des formes pleines

Il y a le mystère des sirènes.

Burn the towns,

Burn the backstreet bars,

Burn your boardwalk basement trade.

Feel the flame,

Feel the curve of the sword,

Your living flesh reeks of compromise, babe.

And in the face of barbarian hordes

An honest defeat is your only reward.

The love that you would not defend with your life

You cannot befriend always tears in your eyes.

Ma ni dem, gone with the wind,

Ma ni dem in search of a new king.

"All women are queens,

Tell this to the woman who loves you.

You may not live up to her dreams,

Which even a king cannot always do."

Voilà ce qu'a dit une reine

A un roi bon vaincu sans haine.

Elle est partie comme s'en va la mer

Quand la lune vous a.

The love that you would not defend with your life

You cannot befriend always tears in your eyes.

I am gone, gone with the wind,

I am gone in search of a new king.

I am gone.

I am gone.