Feed the Birds

It might be my imagination that thousands of birds are seeking food at feeders this fall. Flocks of hundreds swarm through the skies in swooping aerial gymnastics and land near a feeding place. I poured a pound of sunflower seed into the backyard feeder this morning. As I write this, flying critters like English Sparrows, Chickadees, House Wrens, Gold Finches, and some that I don’t recognize are staging themselves in the adjacent juniper shrub, waiting for an opportunity to fly in and join the party. I read somewhere that when birds feed like crazy it is because a storm is coming and they are stocking up to survive the atrocious weather; it is called a “feeding frenzy.” I enjoy feeding them and recognize that with the nasty twenty degree(F) weather we are experiencing they need all the help I can give them. Like all things the cost of seed has skyrocketed and my pockets are not as deep as they were a year ago.

Numerous birds feed from the feeder
Three squirrels feed off the ground below the bird feeder

This experience with the birds is not unlike the swarms of immigrants crossing our borders to escape unhealthy conditions in their home countries. Like the birds, we feed and house them, and unless they can find work and earn a living, we must continue doing so. We can’t just put them in a motel for a week and feed them once, hoping the problem disappears. They are hungry every day. The problem, as I see it, is that these immigrants will cost me a lot more than a fifty-pound bag of sunflower seeds every two or three weeks. Feeding a few birds and or immigrants is not the same as feeding swarms of them. How do we deal with the problem?

One answer is to send them back home, but they left home because they were unhappy. We should not be concerned about their level of happiness as long as they are not starving and have shelter. Our so-called broken immigration system was carefully drafted to give the country time to assimilate new people into our culture. What is broken is the law. It is being broken daily by those who supposedly should be enforcing it.

I agree that the world has a shrinking population problem, but I also remember that not long ago people were going crazy about overpopulation. The cry was for abortion, birth control, and various schemes dedicated to keeping the planet from being ruined by too many people. Hell, China went so far as to adopt a one-child law, and they vigorously enforced it. If a Chinese couple wanted a second baby and defied the rule, they might suddenly learn that they no longer had a job or an apartment. The law worked so well that the government soon learned that there would not be enough people to care for the elderly. Now, China is panicking and encouraging more babies to be born. Except, the young people who are in the child bearing years have learned that having babies is expensive and also hard work. Without saying it, they are sending a message to the CCP to go pound sand. It is their problem, they created it, and it is theirs to deal with.

The shrinking population has also affected the USA. Like the CCP, our ruling leaders have decided to solve the problem by importing new people from countries where young people still like to have babies. Instead of doing this correctly by changing the laws to increase our population through immigration, they decided to open the borders and let the world in. I believe that the entire world population would immigrate to the USA if we were dumb enough to allow it.

Recently, I sponsored an immigrant to come to the USA. Except they were already here. It so happened that they came no matter what or how. I hired an attorney to help me make things legal. The process took three and a half years, about ten thousand dollars, and the immigration department required untold numbers of forms to be completed (I-130, I-131, I-485, I-601, I-765, G-28, I might be wrong, but I assume there are continuous form numbers to fill in all the gaps in between those I used. That would imply that there are well over a thousand forms in the immigration system all dealing with very specific cases.) . The forms are all in English but unintelligible because they are in the language of Immigration Services, and only those people trained in that system understand them. We also had three face-to-face interviews during which the immigrant was interrogated relentlessly. Thankfully, we hired an language interpreter to work with us so the questions could be answered lawfully. Many of the questions they asked were already answered in writing as they were directly from the forms submitted. It was obvious to me that they were trying to trip up the immigrant with answers different from those on the form.

Yes, the system is very hard to deal with, but our lawmakers made it that way. Any time a new case arrived that the standard forms couldn’t address, they revised the form to accept the case or invented a new form. Each form has a number. In our case the form numbers ranged from one hundred and thirty to seven hundred and sixty-five. Immigration officers must use the forms exactly as written. They must assure that the immigrant has answered the question validly, if not, the application is denied. .

This process was very much different than the one that was in place when my parents arrived on Ellis Island in the nineteen twenties. I must give our country credit for allowing over 1.4 million immigrants into the country lawfully every year. There is not another country in the world that is as generous with its immigration quotas. It is just in the last few decades that we have lost it and have decided to break our own rules. The existing system is generous to a fault. It is designed to let good healthy people in, and to give the country time to allow the newcomers to culturally assimilate, learn the language, find jobs, and housing. What we did over the last four years was to allow as many people into the country to make a new city the size of New York literally, over night.

Finally, I recommend that if you have kids, grandkids, nephews, nieces, advise them to become lawyers specializing in immigration law. They will have lifetime employment. Secondly, I urge you to feed the birds.

Cease Fire

The war with the bushy-tailed critters has ceased momentarily. There are bits and pieces of styrofoam scattered around the ground below the tower. Evidently, the foam did not taste good, and there was too much of it to consume in one attempt. There is no telling how long this ceasefire will last, but my guess is that it will end when the critters find a new way to attack. In past battles, the enemy defeated me by using their athletic abilities and jumped the gap between the feeder and the house roof. Thankfully, they have not yet learned the pathway to the house, and I’m not going to show them.

This is GrumpaJoe, War Correspondent, signing off for now.

War is Hell

My war without ordnance proceeds quietly. For the past week, my hobby has been watching to see if the bushy-tailed critters were feasting on sunflower seeds. Not only were they feasting they were sating themselves. Luckily, I saw exactly how they were breaking through my defenses. As suspected, the squirmy critters were wiggling their bodies between and around all the barriers I had put in place. Today, I stuffed the opening between the stove pipe and the wooden post with styrofoam. Luckily, I found a sheet of the stuff in my shop that was over an inch thick. I cut off two inch wide strips and stuffed it into the pipe as a block. Now, I go back into surveillance mode again.

Notice the enemy on the ground under the feeder cleaning up spillage

The War Has Begun!

We choose not to use rockets with explosive warheads, but the battles are just as nasty. This time, the odds are four to one, with me being the one. The front was quiet for the past two years, and there has been no conflict. My problem was loneliness, which can be overwhelming at times. The multitude of friendships I had established has abandoned me. Is that the price I paid for ending the war? Why can’t we all be friends and not make living together dependent on feeding all of you? Why can’t you bushy tailed bullies who overeat my generous food supply understand that it is intended exclusively for the avian crowd? Life would be so much more tolerable if you did. Instead, you continue to impress me with your wily intelligence and unending effort to outwit every barrier I place in front of you. I accept the challenge. The war is on.

I Cried When I Sold It

I just had a fantastic idea for a post and lost the idea as I sat down in front of my keyboard. Has that ever happened to you? It is definitely related to age. In the last few months, I have found myself losing many things, ideas being one of them. Another thing I am losing is motivation. I seem too content watching videos endlessly. Writing is becoming a chore, and reading is also becoming a drag. However, reading may be eye-related. And the idea I lost in the first sentence just returned to me. Trains. I love watching videos of model trains running endlessly through some beautifully detailed man made scenery. The detail in some of these layouts is amazing. Another thing I am astonished by is the many new scales that are being adopted by the hobbiests. New models are getting smaller and smaller by the day. The challenge of course is to build train layouts with buildings and scenery to match the scale. It is not unknown to see modelers making layouts on a coffee table platform or smaller.

The model train hobby is growing. I had previously thought it was limited to old men who worked for railroads as careers. I have put building a model train diorama on my bucket list. The idea of making an utterly realistic layout on a desktop fascinates me. That, and the idea of spending my retirement nest egg on man toys, seems fun. About thirty years ago, I had a similar urge, which I acted upon and built a model railroad in my garden. The job was challenging but thoroughly satisfying. I selected G-gauge as the medium because the trains were rather large and very detailed. As with all of my brainstorms the project got out of hand because I over thought it. The larger the scale the closer to reality things have to be modeled. The first impasse I reached was that I needed a large space in order to navigate the grade changes in my yard. Trains don’t like to go uphill. When the wheels are steel and the rails are steel, the coefficient of friction is not very suitable and the tracks have to be very level to keep things running. Have you ever seen a train running up a hill? If you did, the hill was very gradual at about 1-2% grade.

This is not my garden. I lost all of my original photos.

I decided to change the paradigm to make a very long story shorter. Instead of making a yard that looked like a miniature city with a railroad running through it, I decided to make a garden with a railroad to add some drama to the plants. The effort paid off because I had enough of a project to keep me interested in gardening and model railroading. The garden involved my wife Barbara who chose all of the plant life, and me who laid the track, built a trestle bridge that crossed alive stream, a tunnel that ran under a waterfall, and a trestle to climb up the hill.

Barb and I belonged to a garden club that held a yearly garden walk to raise money. My train project deadline was debuting the PA&GRR (Prestwick Area and Garden Railroad). Of course, I finished in time, and the railroad was a hit. Many visitors told us others had told them to see this garden.

As a side story, on the morning of the Garden Walk, about an hour before the first visitors arrived, I was sprinkling water on select plants when I saw something that horrified me. A large garter snake was poking his head up vertically out of the ground cover next to the tracks. Oh my God! All I could think of was the hysteria that this critter would cause if he appeared to the many people visiting during the show. I went after him with a spade in hand ready for decapitation, but he disappeared and I never saw him again.

I cried when I sold that house, garden, and the railroad with it.