A Tern for the Better

 

Osprey

 To be sure, one of the best parts of living in Florida is the frequent opportunity to watch birds.  They have the habit of being everywhere and nowhere at once, which seems to be true of birds wherever we’ve lived.  What’s funny about birds here on the Gulf Coast is that they seem to show up in the craziest places or in startling numbers.

Ibis ( Both photos: Google Images)

White Ibis are like cats here in Bradenton; there’s always one walking across your lawn.  Quite often they are in groups of five or more and they will move about like a herd of cattle, grazing on whatever bug or food matter is unfortunate enough to be in their path.  They move undaunted along the grassy verges of car parks and sidewalks, their long, curved beaks ready to pluck the next tasty tidbit in view.  We had one graceful visitor we named Iris, Iris the Ibis, who spent the better part of a morning giving the lawn a thorough going over.  Today on the way home from the beach, we saw six ibis perched on the power lines looking like quarter notes on a big piece of staff paper.  Brilliant and oddly comical.

Wood Stork

 Our most neck-jerking bird sighting to date was several months ago.  Again, we were on Anna Maria Island going to the Bay Fest festival and there on a patch of lawn just a couple of feet from the road was a wood stork looking all the world like a child’s drawing.  We were so shocked I turned the car around immediately and Jamie snapped a couple of photos.  What is fabulous about long-legged birds is how they walk, like women in extremely high heels that are walking cautiously through cow patties.  Each step is strategic and deliberate.  The stork posed for several shots before sending us on to the festival.



Roseate Spoonbill

 Our most coveted unexpected sight was a roadside pond with five roseate spoonbills and an assortment of ducks.  Again, the car was whipped into a u-turn.  It’s hard to explain the excitement and sheer joy of seeing a pink bird, let along five pink birds.  Then there’s the whole novelty of their bills and watching them feed.  Another birdwatcher was happily snapping away photos with a massive camera that stirred serious lens envy in the Pearsons.  He told us that about 15 minutes prior to our arrival, there had been over 30 spoonbills in the pond but a pair of squabbling egrets had moved most of the flock along.  He said the flock is at the pond every morning and evening.  We went back a few days later but the scene was empty save for a policeman talking to someone who was pulled over right in front of the pond.  I hope they were talking about birds and not arguing over warnings for being on the side of the road looking for spoonbills.

  On the verge of creepy is the recent arrival of big flocks of big birds.  Near  our house, crows have been appearing in large groups.  We’ve all seen those big flocks of grackles and starlings that move as one unit in amazing feats of agility but lately it’s been crows in our neighborhood.It’s usually mid-morning and they come cawing from the direction of the river, flying in all directions at once, their shadows dancing a macabre waltz on the porch awning and driveway.  It’s like a clip left on the cutting room floor when Hitchcock was filming “The Birds.”  (Pictured Above:  Willet)

The vultures have also been massing.  We have turkey vultures and black vultures here in Florida.  While it’s common to see them tidying up carcasses along the road (I refer to them as “the road crew”) it’s a bit spooky to see them in large numbers riding the thermals, avian tornados hundreds of feet tall above the pastures and orange groves.  For some reason it’s even more foreboding to see them kettling at the coastline and yet it’s incredibly beautiful to watch.  My favorite vulture visitation happened on a November day back in Maine six or seven years ago.  We were starting a new tradition of an early Thanksgiving as Dave was usually away deer hunting the week of Thanksgiving and would miss the turkey and trimmings.  Friends and family were just tucking in around the table that took up the entire living room when what to our wondering eyes did appear but a turkey vulture perched quite contentedly on the grape arbor looking towards the house! He stayed for the entire meal.  My brother wisely recommended we use the buddy system if anyone left the house.  One misplaced step and you would be ripe for the picking…hahaha. (Turkey Vulture & Black Vulture:  Google Images)

(Pictured above:  Brown Pelicans, Great Blue Heron, Gull, Sanderlings.   Pictured above:  Royal Terns)
Depending on the day and the fishing, you can expect to share the beach with brown and white pelicans, great white egrets, gulls, herons, osprey, oyster catchers, black skimmers, willet, sandpipers, sanderlings, crows, grackles, pigeons, parrots and my happy favorites, the terns. While well acquainted with the common terns and Arctic terns back home, I was instantly captivated by the Royal Terns with their bright orange beaks and punk rock head gear.  Most often you will find them in groups, sometimes mixed in with the waiting gulls.

(Pictures:  Black Skimmer, Brown Pelicans, Great Egret, Brown Pelican) 

Let me first say that the gulls along the beaches of Anna Maria Island are a brutish lot.  They may cut a dashing figure for a picture postcard but they are grifters of the most notorious sort.  We’ve watched them mob beachgoers for their sandwiches and chips.  Upon stepping out from under a sun canopy with a cheese doodle in his hand, a four-year old was instantly set upon by a pack of gulls and left crying, pecked and doodle-less within seconds.  We had gulls trying to land on a hot hibachi to snag shrimp we were grilling. Most astoundingly though they have the cheek to steal fish from the mouths of the terns and pelicans.  We watched in disbelief as a gull flew alongside a pelican, hovered as the pelican dove into the water, and then landed centimeters from the pelican’s mouth within seconds of it breaking the surface in the hopes of nabbing any fish sticking out of the pelican’s beak or any spilling out as the pelican tossed its head back to swallow.  The practiced precision is amazing.  Oooh, the buggers!

(Pictured below:  Royal Terns and Cheeky Gull)

By comparison, the Royal Terns are positively polite.  Gregarious but not ingratiating, they seem to suffer humans tolerably well.  If you approach a flock at a gentle pace, they will move en masse to grant you passage, sometimes letting you walk right through them.  They don’t beg; they don’t steal; they simply fish, chat and look fabulous.  At least in my mind that’s what they do.

(Pictured below:  Royal Terns & Jamie)

For me, it’s always a great day at the beach when I’ve spent it in the company of the Royal terns and Mr. Pearson.  Several months ago we were lucky enough to share a stretch of sand with a massive flock of the Royals.  As with big piles of leaves or giant puddles, human beings can’t seem to resist the urge to run through flocks of birds.  Over and over again, Jamie and I stood still with cameras going while children and adults alike flung themselves along the sand sending the terns to flight in a flurry of feathers.  Unlike being mobbed by the gulls, this was magical; a living snowstorm of white and wing that rose and subsided on the whims of passersby.  It was an afternoon we will never forget.

Bonus video:  See if you can spot the endangered  le petit maillot de bain bleu in this footage.  Always an unexpected sight!

Bradenton Beach on Dwellable

Thank You For Not Littering

One cool thing about seeing life in terms of stories and pictures is that quite often, if you watch long enough, you discover amazing patterns.  When I say amazing I don’t necessarily mean awe-inspiring realizations but more the quixotic combinations that life forms from the amoeba to the human come up with to navigate their daily petri dish.




Jeff, myself and  Wendy the Cat

 It happens that I’ve spent the last four years living with smokers.  Back in Austin during my days with Jeff and Wendy, Parliament cigarettes were a food group at Casa del Pepe.  At home, at some else’s home or in a bar, the cigarette butts would be disposed of properly, but just out and about the butt would get tossed on the ground, maybe stepped on and left.  It made me crazy and in reply to my scolding to pick that litter up, I would be told that the butt on the ground represented a job for someone clearing the streets of trash in Austin.  Baloney, was my response.  Only sometimes would I pick up the butt, having to draw the line somewhere at just how much picking up I would do for someone I wasn’t legally responsible for, but I always put the empty cigarette packets in the recycling.  Eventually, butts were not tossed on the ground when we were out together and these days Jeff has more important things to put to his lips, like his beautiful pregnant wife and their precious little girl.

Jamie is also a smoker, though by American standards he is not only a light smoker but something of a throwback.  He rolls his own cigarettes and has for a long time.  The first time my dad saw Jamie pull out a pouch of tobacco and a paper he slapped his knee in amazement and said, “Now that takes me back.  My father used to roll his own.” Some people have that same reaction but the majority of folks here in the US who stumble upon this guy with tattoos and an accent fiddling with white paper and something leafy usually assume my husband is rolling a joint.  It can lead to some funny and sticky situations as you might imagine.  Twice at one outdoor concert, security guards told Jamie they didn’t care what was in the pouch, they didn’t want to see him rolling anything so he was left to covertly make his tobacco cigarettes while the drunk girls behind us spilled beer down my back and smoked their Marlboro Lights.

To his credit, Mr. Pearson is a stickler about disposing of his duff ends, even keeping them in his pocket (and subsequently into the washing machine!) if there’s no place to throw them away.  The odd thing is, it’s incredibly difficult to find hand-rolling tobacco these days and the stuff that is available is often horrid compared to even the cheapest tobacco that’s available in Britain.   Jamie’s favorite brand, Amber Leaf, is a Virginia or brightleaf tobacco, but it’s not available for purchase in the US despite its American origins, at least not that we have uncovered, even online.  Bless Jamie’s mum, Melody, for tucking a pouch of Amber Leaf and little filters into her Christmas box.  If he can’t get a “decent cup of tea or a decent pint of beer” then he can at least have a decent smoke.  (He’s just kidding about the tea and beer…mostly.)

One thing that is quickly evident if you happen to compare tobacco packaging from the US and the UK is that American tobacco producers are certainly doing the very least they have to where the obligatory health warning labels are concerned.  American warnings are printed quite small and put on the side of the pack where they won't get in the way.  When I first met Jamie in London and he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, I was flabbergasted at the words “Smoking Kills” taking up fully half of the front of the packet in large, screaming text.  Wow.  It’s not uncommon for the health warning to include graphic photos of mouth cancer, lung disease, at-risk fetuses and other complications associated with smoking plastered on the packaging.  If you are at all squeamish and considering taking up smoking, don’t start in the United Kingdom, kids.  Come to America.

As a non-smoker, I’d be just fine if no one ever smoked again.  I appreciate not having to eat in smoke-filled restaurant or not flying next to someone with a cigarette going.  I’ll speak up (sometimes) if I’m uncomfortable with the smoke you’re making me breathe in but for the most part your smoking is your business unless you are an idiot like the woman I saw today.

Let me first say that in my perfect world I would have access to things like motor vehicle records and DNA-based GPS for the purposes of tracking down people and offering them the chance to right their grievous wrongs perpetrated in my presence.  At the very least, I would have the wherewithal to join the YouTube nation of people filming things on their cell phones because isn’t far more embarrassing to have the whole world see what you casually do than to have one person point it out to you outside a hamburger shop? But I wasn't in my perfect world.  I was in Bradenton.

While sat at a table by the window waiting for our order of mind-blowing fabulousness at Five Guys Burgers and Fries, I noticed the two women at the picnic table outside.  They were both dressed quite elegantly in white linen blouses, smart-looking trousers, posh shoes and plenty of diamonds and gold to catch the mid-winter sun.  The taller of the two, a very attractive gal perhaps in her late sixties with perfectly highlighted blonde hair and a brilliant smile which she shared frequently with her companion, reached into her Coach bag, pulled out a package of Marlboro Lights and lit up.  It was like watching Lauren Becall having a burger and a smoke.  The cigarette was merely an extension of her exquisitely manicured performance.  Then she stood up, stretched her slim torso and tossed the cigarette butt on the sidewalk.  A quick grinding out of the last ashes with a practiced and elegantly-clad toe finished her act and she stepped around the butt, around the trash can that was three feet from her table and came inside to powder her nose.

I was beside myself with disgust and immediately began weighing my options as to what to do when she came out of the bathroom.  But then the burger and fries arrived and I was reduced to just watching the offender saunter back outside and join her companion in lighting up another Marlboro. Moral outrage is no match for half a double cheese and bacon burger and hand-cut French fries.  I briefed Jamie on the situation developing at the picnic table and by turns we scrutinized the women between mouthfuls of beef and careful monitoring of the ketchup to fries ratio infront of us.  I was very nearly in my happy place when the ladies beyond the glass started gathering up their things to leave, having tossed their finished cigarettes on the ground.  Purses were casually deposited on shoulders.  Extra napkins were wrapped around soda cups to catch the condensation, saving clothes and upholstery from moisture stains.  Both women slid their large Chanel sunglasses down to cover their eyes and stepped lightly off the curb towards their car.  But then the taller woman turned around, fumbling with her keys and the Marlboro Light packet she was trying to carry in one hand.  She took a few graceful steps back towards the restaurant and placed the empty cigarette package deftly in the trash can.

Thank you for not littering.

Life in Florida

Though there is constant interaction between both sides of my brain, it seems that I can either write or paint but not at the same time.  Today seems good for writing.  The last few months have been full of paintings and creative endeavors for art shows back home in Maine over the holidays.  My first attempt to enter the local art scene here in Bradenton was an abysmal failure.  Who knew everyone only buys tropical paradise themes here.  Thank goodness Mainers and a handful of Texans are more art curious and kind supporters.

Florida is proving a strange place to be living, a curious vortex of things that don’t quite make sense.  Despite orange groves everywhere and a Tropicana bottling plant just two miles away, orange juice is more expensive here than it was in Austin or back home.  Due to agriculture on a large scale, there are precious few small farms that sell their produce at road stands and farmers markets.  We have taken to buying our veggies off stands at the flea market where the prices and often the quality are much better than the local supermarkets but even there many items are coming from California or other countries.  “Shop Locally” is verging on oxymoron here.  Conversely, I have never been so excited to see fresh, baby bok choi as I was at the St Petersburg Morning Market last week.

Right now the strawberries are in supply from Plant City and it’s tomato season in Ruskin.  The trouble is, the berries have little taste despite their enticing color and heady bouquet.  The tomatoes, too, are an exercise in disappointment.  They are either hard or rotting and in either case mostly without flavor.  But to be fair, we have all become the guinea pigs of an economy where what matters is quantity and not necessarily esthetics. It’s not just here in Florida.

I think what makes it all the more unpalatable though is that false advertising is a very real part of life here in the Sunshine State, whether it’s the blush of a strawberry or a job ad in the paper. We have both become skilled at investigating any business that invites us for an interview, though even then they still manage to catch us out.  One place was scamming seniors on magazine subscription renewals, moving its office often to avoid the cops.  Another was an online newspaper that misrepresented the position they were hiring for after a lengthy and friendly interview discussing something completely different.  There was the pizza place that was more interested in human resources-generated questions than whether you could make pizzas under pressure. The young owner has obviously been putting those human resources profiling classes from his M.B.A degree to use with little success as he keeps advertising for help two months later.

I showed up for an interview at a cool and groovy shop/art gallery/bakery not far from our favorite beach. We had been to the shop many times with company or for a nibble.  When the owner finally came out from his office he said, “Do you mind if we go outside and do this so I can have a cigarette?”  I should have said, “Actually, I do mind, yes.  Thank you for asking.”  But I didn’t because to me that would have seemed as impolite as having to sit through an interview with smoke being blown in your face, which is what happened.  As it was, he spent more time talking with people on the sidewalk than he did with me.  Needless to say, I didn’t get the job nor have I been back for coffee.

Oddly, it’s been a pattern that the people running businesses here in the Bradenton area are often guys in their fifties from New York and Chicago in uniforms of stained t-shirts or Hawaiian shirts, baggy shorts, filthy flipflops, big gold chains on their necks, big watches on their wrists and even bigger attitudes.  They mock Jamie’s accent and ask me if I go around “shushing” everyone because I’ve been a librarian.

We try very hard to be circumspect as we meet each day.  Our landlords are great.  The postman is friendly.  The cable guy went beyond the call of duty.  The lady at the sushi place chats with us now when we stop in.  But after ten months of living here, we have acquired the feeling that many people, upon retiring here, start their new lives by abandoning their manners, their patience and to a large degree, their humanity.  Whether it’s road rage, aisle rage, queue rage or just plain rage rage, it’s tough sledding if you are a nice person.  You can forgive the tourists for being idiots; it’s much harder to forgive the locals. And maybe that’s just it.  Maybe it’s because most folks who live in Florida are not from Florida.  Like all of us who move to some place new, we bring our internal geography with us and attempt to force it into the contours of a new map.  Plus there is also the possibility that we were as rude in Ohio as we are here.

•Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty, 80's, slim, 5'4' (used to be 5'6'),
searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion. Matching white shoes and belt a plus.

•LONG-TERM COMMITMENT

•Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband and am looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot.Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.

•SERENITY NOW

•I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation.
If you are the silent type, let's get together, take our hearing aids out and enjoy  quiet times.

•WINNING SMILE

•Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser
to share rare steaks, corn on the cob and caramel candy.

•BEATLES OR STONES?

•I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights and still like to play the guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let's get together and listen to my eight-track tapes.

•MINT CONDITION

•Male, 1932, high mileage, good condition, some hair,
many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves.
Isn't in running condition, but walks well.

 http://www.funnyordie.com/lists/a27cc6b611/actual-personal-ads-from-florida-senior-citizens



(photo from Google Images!)

 Then there is the issue of aging and longevity.  It’s the active seniors cutting you off in traffic and shoving you aside in the produce department, not the ones relegated to nursing homes. As in any city, you only see those who are still able to be independent.  Independence coupled with a sense of entitlement in a concentrated population is, let’s face it, daunting.  Imagine a never-ending Sunday dinner with all of your relations being right about everything and you’ve got Florida.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for people living vibrant and interesting lives right up until their last breath but I’m relieved I never had to encounter my 96 year old grandmother in her bikini top and sequined pareo pushing me aside on her way to the tiki bar for another margarita while she complains to her Speedo-wearing (barely!) husband about the tourists.

 

For now we soldier on, thankful for things like fresh orange juice from free fruit and walking the beach with the sandpipers at sunset.  It’s a nice place to visit…

Classic Cars with Bear & Wren

Senior citizens are not the only things that come to Florida to retire.  Classic cars abound here and we were delighted to stumble across nearly 100 of them at Bay Fest 2011 on Anna Maria Island a few weeks ago.  We parked up early and spent the morning admiring beautiful machines and hearing stories from their owners.   Here's the view from my camera and further down you can see the view from Jamie's!

                    Bay Fest Bear-Style from here on down!

Anna Maria Island on Dwellable

Made In India

It recently came to my attention that Durex brand condoms are made in India.  I know this because it is printed on the back of each packet. Given that the tag ‘Made In India’ is not always associated with quality and dependability here in the States, this discovery was a bit thought provoking.    It struck me as ironic as well that the second most populated country on the planet is manufacturing a product designed to prevent population increase.  Durex claims to the number-one selling condom brand in the world which made me wonder if that is also the case in India.  Turns out, it’s not.

Thanks to a bold advertising campaign in 1991, Kama Sutra condoms burst onto the scene in India exchanging the view of condoms as protection and prevention for images of sensuality and sexuality. Utilizing two of the country’s top models and edgy cinematography, the campaign which focused on sex with pleasure was a massive success making Kama Sutra brand as familiar to Indian consumers as Durex is to America shoppers.   Which got me wondering, can you buy Kama Sutra condoms in the US?

  It seems that you cannot. After an hour of searching the internet looking for outlets, I could only find the condoms listed on websites outside the United States.  You can have them shipped in from Canadian or Greek pharmacies, online Indian bazaars or from the manufacturer itself but forget nipping down to Walgreens for a box.

To ask why you can’t buy Kama Sutra condoms in the US would certainly begin a long lesson in international trade agreements.  Durex, which is headquartered in England (at one point in the city of Knutsford) and has manufacturing facilities in over a dozen countries, entered India’s condom market in 1997, though it’s not clear if that is just the retail division or if manufacturing began in 1997 as well.   A quick glance through ads and blogs shows there are many companies producing condoms across the globe, most of which American consumers will only encounter while traveling abroad.  

In an attempt to once again catch the eye of Indian consumers, in 2009 Kama Sutra launched a desktop application that responds to keywords and phrases in its constantly evolving database by launching a two-second flash movie that has the Kama Sutra logo and the words “Be Safe.”  The app comes from a website called SendSomeRubber.com where you can send application invites to your friends or download it for yourself.  The application’s creator is Bangalore creative products firm, Hungry & Foolish (H&F). 

And as if they were not doing enough for love and pleasure, each Kama Sutra condom wrapper has a sexual position from the ancient Indian Kamasutra text.  Now that’s a well thought out product.

Who knew the proliferation of prophylactics could be such a complex topic.  I guess I should be happy (and relieved) that Durex condoms receive high ratings for dependability at Consumer Reports.  A few of those 1.2 billion folks in India probably feel the same way.  Let’s hope the Kama Sutra lovers are happy, too.

Visit these links for some stimulating reading!

http://www.kamalounge.in/main_lounge.asp

http://www.durex.com/Pages/default.aspx

http://inventorspot.com/articles/kamasutra_condoms_17051

http://www.consumerreports.org/cro/shopping/december-2009/sex-and-the-supermarket/top-condoms/index.htm

http://articles.economictimes.indiatimes.com/2009-06-03/news/27641180_1_kamasutra-condom-usage-jk-ansell

http://www.business-standard.com/india/news/kamasutra8217s-creative-foreplay/127873/

http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2011-09-15/man-woman/30154782_1_condom-brands-ks-online-store

www.sendsomerubber.com

All photos are from searches on Google Images. 

How To Ruin a Perfectly Good Monday in Ten Easy Steps

Step One:  Try to find an internet provider in central Florida that doesn't bait and switch on their website.  This will take several hours with the same result: you cannot have basic internet at a decent price without bundling services. Bundling used to be just for wrapping babies but now it isn't.  And you end up with a contract that is more complex than attempting to bring peace to the Middle East.

Step Two:  Try to set up online access to your dental insurance.  You will be told you do not exist.  When they finally find you, they cannot discuss your benefits with you but they will send a booklet that should arrive in a week to ten days.

Step Three:  Try to find a bank or credit union that does not punish you for letting them use your money to make money for their stockholders.  I know Occupy Wall Street is all over this but they are too busy protesting to help me find free checking in my new city.  Good luck to anyone in Florida  finding a bank/credit union that will cut you a money order or bank check for under a four dollar fee.

Step Four:  Try to get a check list and fact sheet from the exterminator and your landlord regarding precisely what you must do to prepare for your carriage house apartment to be tented and filled with poisonous gas for termite extermination. 

Step Five:  Try to find a trunk mount bike rack that will carry three bikes and fit a 2007 Ford Taurus. Despite what various websites tell you, the fine print says no.

Step Six:  Try to find bike racks that don't require an adapter to carry women's bikes.

Step Seven:  Try to find a place that sells and installs trailer hitches for a 2007 Ford Taurus for a hitch mount bike rack you have yet to find.

Step Eight:  Try to get a replacement title for your vehicle.  Florida charges $77.00, which is more than twice what Maine charges and fifteen times more than Texas.

Step Nine:  Check the pitiful remains of your 401(k) because misery loves company.

Step Ten:  Attempt steps one through nine without the aid of chocolate, wine or pizza.

(Caution:  do not bundle more than two of these steps at a time.)