Vix Voice

The Wild Show Continues

I really thought the spectacular critters of Chickadee Farm were done, at least for the moment. And, no, I haven't seen our delicious Indigo Bunting again, so I just had to republish his photo, he was that gorgeous. But I was wrong about the critter sightings being over. Boy, was I ever. Day after the bunting, I spotted this quite spectacular Baltimore oriole in our apple tree. Isn't he a beauty? And so you don't think I'm just about the flash, check out the sweet chickadee  and grosbeak. And the goldfinches are everywhere, of course. But as much as I love our birdies, as they used to say in Show Biz, "That ain't all, folks."

Picture it - one a.m., two nights ago, Muffin (our wee black dog) starts howling. Soon, Burt , our Brittany, joins in, as does Gracie, our basset hound.  For those of you who know me well, you've figured out what all the howling was about:  a bear. Not just any bear, but a Large Ursine Creature.  He or she (somehow, she seemed awfully female to me)  stole our feeders, which we should have not had out at night, and came right up on the deck while Bill , myself and the dogs were howling-shouting at her. She reached up and stole the suet feeder!  This was one gutsy bear. She hung around for about ten minutes, then vamoosed.  Sorry the photo isn't better, but here she is:

But are we done? Heck no! (I think Phil's been busy, sending this raft of critters  our way.)  The following morning, after we'd retrieved the feeders, yet before we'd put them out (now only during the day), we had another Large Visitor. This one is right in front of my office sliding window. Did I notice right away? Naw. See, I was busily composing  when I sensed a Presence ,  a Large Presence  looming. So I looked up, and what did I see? (No, not an out-of-focus shepherd's crook), but a bear, a different bear. This fella (or girl) was smaller, less gutsy, and far more tentative. Plus, he was out during the day. Unusual. Hysterical with excitement, I grabbed my Nikon, still set on the night-time setting, and shot away, hence the not-so-hot images. But, heck, I bet you get the idea. 

 

And today?  Gorgeous, sunny, and  filled with the smell of spring and an absence of large, furry creatures. Maybe they'll be back, or not, since we've taken in the feeders. But, you know, I figure we've been blessed. 

Wild at Chickadee Farm

If you who think we lead a boring, tedious life here in New Hampshire at Chickadee Farm, we'd like you to check out today's visitors. They were quite remarkable. First was Foxy, who visits regularly. Problem is, I can't seem to grab my camera fast enough, as she crosses the yard and then disappears into our woods. Here's a not-so-hot photo:

We were thrilled to see her, but wait! The dogs began howling soon after Foxy left, and we had a sweet young buck come visit for a bit of nosh. He was not disappointed, and he lingered quite awhile.

Finally, when we were all calmed down, we celebrated the Main Event -- Bill noticed something bright blue on the feeder just outside my office. At first we thought it was a bluebird, but once we checked out the bird book, we knew we were being visited by an Indigo Bunting, a bird neither of us has ever seen in person before. Mind you, he's perched less than ten feet from where I write my novels. Cranberry, our young kitty, was quite disappointed she couldn't reach the Indigo. Isn't he gorgeous? It was raining, and I had to shoot through glass, but what a treat!

So, no, life on the farm is never boring, and sometimes we're blessed with unexpected visitors who give us a thrill.

Happy Day.

P.S. - I'd like to think that just maybe the Indigo Bunting was a sign from Phil, saying that he was okay, that all was as it should be, that we would see him again. I know - sounds sort of crazy. But stranger things have happened.

You Were Delish

My dear friend, Philip R. Craig, died yesterday. He left us way too soon. Objectively, he was a writer of the Martha's Vineyard J.W. Jackson mystery series...a surf caster and sailor...a champion fencer...an English professor...a teacher of writing...a scallop-er and clam-er...a singer...a writer of the cookbook "Delish" with his wife, Shirley...a collaborator with my husband, Bill, on three J.W. Jackson/Brady Coyne mysteries...a dad to Jamie and Kim...a grandfather, too...and a cowboy from Durango, none of which really describes the man that we all loved.

Phil was BIG. He was tall, maybe 6'5", and broad, and when he talked he waved his arms. His whole body talked, really, but it was his booming voice that grabbed the attention. You just knew his deep-throated laughter would thunder up any minute, no matter the topic.

Phil loved well, too. He and his wife, Shirley, (a buddy of mine), were peas in a pod. They traveled the world together, had adventures together, had kids together, had good times and bad times together. They defined a great marriage, at least in my eyes.

I rarely saw Phil angry, yet when he did express displeasure, say, at man's cruelty to man or beast, he was volcanic in his fury. But anger wasn't really Phil's way. He smiled often, and his grin rose from his lips to the gleam in his eyes. Phil Craig was full of mischief!

I meander. Please forgive me. But it's hard to contain Phil on the written page. Like I said, he was BIG. But it wasn't his physical presence that defined him, but rather his big-heartedness, his generosity of spirit, his large intelligence, and his big-beautiful ability to squeeze every ounce of life out of each day. Phil defined the term, Living with Gusto.

So it's really incomprehensible that he's gone so swiftly or so soon.

Phil Craig is the only man who ever offered - offered! - to take me shopping, just because he knew it would please me. That shopping excursion resulted in an up-close-and-personal viewing of Bill Clinton and Chelsea in Vineyard Haven, not to mention me getting to pet Clinton's chocolate Lab, Buddy. We returned home with great tales to tell, all of which Phil told in his inimitable, exuberant style. The man was a great storyteller.

The four of us—Phil and Shirl, Bill and I—had synchronicity.

Goddamn, I'm going to miss you, Phil Craig. Many folks who knew you, either personally or through your writing, will miss you, too. So will my dear Bill, your great friend and co-conspirator on books, tall tales, and the Phil 'n' Bill Show.

And we'll keep an eye out for Shirley and the Vineyard and Durango gang. We'll send them love, too. And hugs. Not quite the same, but we'll try our best.

Bottom line is Bill and I were lucky to know you. At all times and in all ways, my dear Phil, you were Delish.