Pre-Ramble: So, a “long-awaited study” of aging in rhesus monkeys indicates that the human life span can be “considerably extended” by severely restricting calorie intake. 

Researchers at the University of Wisconsin report that test subjects are showing many beneficial signs as an outcome of the reduced calorie diet including “significantly less diabetes, cancer, and heart and brain disease.” Monkeys on the restricted diet were expected to enjoy a life span extension of 10 to 20 percent. Researchers apparently regard this as “very good news.” 

Note to the UW research team — Good luck with that.  Personally, I get crabby if I miss a snack; there is no way I am going to sign up to live 10 to 20 percent longer and be LITERALLY STARVING the whole time.

The Take-Away:  It’s the old “quantity vs. quality” debate. Would you rather bite the bullet a little earlier with bits of chocolate-dipped waffle cone stuck in your teeth, or spend all of eternity on a treadmill popping flaxseed capsules? 

Tofu-celery smoothie anyone?

Pre-Ramble: Lots of flapping and preening in the nest today as the Chiplets pull downy fuzz out of their coat by the beak-full to make way for the more streamlined, aerodynamic feathers below. Little did I know, as I watched the activity, that these fledgling feathered wings would be soon called to action.

So, earlier in the week, I had witnessed Mother Chipping Sparrow swoop onto the scene with a fresh, plump, bright green caterpillar dangling from her beak. From what I could see from my viewing bunker, she had chopped it up and distributed it evenly among the clamoring kids. Smart bird. We moms have all had to contend with the sibling rivalry ruckus that comes from the inevitable inequity of food portions … “No fair! Her piece of caterpillar is bigger than mine … ” blah, blah …

Since then, I have come across these bright green caterpillars everywhere…  I’m walking the dog — there’s a caterpillar… I’m on a run – there’s a caterpillar… I’m out in the garden — there’s a caterpillar. And, rather than pass up a perfectly good caterpillar, I’ve been coaxing them onto sticks and dragging them up onto the porch. (I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to anyone; the fact that I’ve set up orange traffic cones across the nesting zone to minimize disruption has generated more than enough snickering among my heartless, unsentimental family and friends.) 

I thought about delivering the caterpillar hot dish directly into the little outstretched beaks, but then thought the better of it. Would I want a complete stranger walking up to the crib and shoving food into my baby’s mouth? Something they had picked up off the street, no less? And what is the shelf life on these insects? I’d hate to be giving the Chiplets an expired caterpillar. So, I’d carefully lay the bugs-on-a-stick on the porch near the nest and slink away. They were always gone the next time I looked out there.

We knew it was going to happen.  Just after the above photo was taken (if you look closely, you can make out three little bird faces … one is looking right at you). (And, yes, there were four eggs in the nest … I don’t know what happened to the fourth bird, and I don’t want to talk about it.) As I made my way back inside, a frenzy of chirping broke out, and before I could turn to see what the commotion was all about, the nest was empty.

That’s the way it’s supposed to be. We’ve known since day one, that sooner or later the little birds were going to be ready to take that leap of faith, or predestination, or whatever it is that makes a creature fling itself beak-first into the future. Any other outcome would have been sad, tragic even. So, why is there still such an empty place where the energy around the nest used to be?

I’m sure the fact that our oldest child has gone to college and the youngest one is poised on the edge of our proverbial nest has something to do with it. It somehow doesn’t seem fair that in raising a child, the outcome that you hope for, that you work a significant part of your life for, exposes you to a deeply complex range of emotions, each of which resonates with a twang somewhere in your heart. It’s like suffering a loss and receiving a great gift all at once.

The Take-Away: Enjoy the moment and take things as they come. Just when you think things are the way they are, new things happen — bird nests pop up in bushes, kids move on to the next exciting phase of their lives, a twist of circumstances presents opportunities to try new things in the world. Seems like our best bet is to experience the things that come our way to the fullest extent of our interest, and be ready to move into whatever comes next. 

Sure, the Chiplets are gone. It’ll be an adjustment… (…what will I do with all that extra time?)  The good news is we can use the front door again, and I can finally sweep up all those dead pine needles and restock the Christmas planters. My hope is that the young birds will learn to find the bright green caterpillars on their own, perfect their flying skills, and send me a Tweet once in a while.

Pre-Ramble:  In an effort to keep the baby-birds-in-nest habitat near the front door of our house as tranquil as possible, I’ve taken to re-routing all nonessential traffic to one of our alternate entrance/exit sites — much to the consternation of my girls, (who are perfectly happy to run around the neighborhood with their peeps for hours on end, but ask them to take ten extra steps to the back door and their tail-feathers get all bent out of joint.)

Also, to minimize disruption, I’ve cut back on the number of times I check on the nest to just 50 times a day. Still, each time I think I’m sneaking up on the foyer window as my stealthiest self, I’ll focus in on the nest only to find Mother Chipping Sparrow looking directly at me with her death glare, all, “Seriously? … You’re looking out here again?” 

In spite of the suboptimal accommodations, the Chiplets seem to be doing just great. Mom and Dad have been fetching take-out – bugs mainly — and all four chicks are looking discernibly fuzzier.

The other big buzz today centers on the 82nd Scripps National Spelling Bee which moves into the nationally televised semifinals in Washington D.C.  If you haven’t seen the award-winning film, Spellbound, you have no idea just how … well, spellbinding, the National Spelling Bee can be.

… one of the highest-rated specials on ESPN (a sports channel), … a nail-biting face-off among hundreds of teens who train as rigorously as any Olympic athlete on their heroic quest for glory.

A few fun facts about the bee:

• The National Spelling Bee was begun in 1925 where nine students participated in the event
• The program, which hosts a record 293 spellers, is open to students attending public, private, parochial, charter and home schools
• Participants range in age from 9 to 15 years of age; most of the kids are either 13 or 14 years old
• English is not the first language of 33 of this year’s spellers, and 117 of them speak languages other than English
• According to the Bee’s official website, the spellers’ favorite words include Weissnichtwo and humuhumunukunukuapuaa (my spell check just shorted out)
• Most bees are fuzzy and carry an electrostatic charge which aids in the adherence of pollen. (You didn’t think I would get through this post without some stupid reference to honey bees, did you?) 

The Take-Away: I think we can all agree that we are more than thankful that we are not in front of a microphone trying to sound out the word “ameliorate” …   And just to drive that point home, here is a spelling tip from the official spelling bee primer:

One of the hardest tings to remember about werds from Latin is weather an internal consonant (like rr in interrupt) is doubled. To reinforce your memery of the correct spelling, try to remmember related werds all together (like interrupt along wit interrupshun or necessary along with necesscity).

Pre-Ramble: I was all set to write a little Memorial Day blog about war heroes, and explore the sentiment around the military from the perspective of one of my daughter’s friends who will be headed off to West Point in the fall.  As I went to hang our stars and stripes from the hooks on the front porch for inspiration however, I realized that, patriotic or not, all that flag flapping would probably scare Mother Chipping Sparrow as she bided her ol’ time on the nest. (I’m sure she’s already annoyed with the paparazzi.)

As you can probably tell by the title and photo, when I looked out at the nest Sunday morning, the four little blue eggs had begun to hatch into baby Chipping Sparrows (the “Chiplets”) … little pink faces that only a mother could love.

As you can also probably tell from the photo, the strong winds that tore through the neighborhood earlier in the weekend knocked ALL of the needles off of the branches surrounding the nest. Suddenly, the prime, secluded nest location is stripped bare — like a bedroom with no drapes.

The Take-Away:  There is probably a profound parallel to be made between the hatching of the eggs and going off to a prestigious military academy, but I haven’t had enough coffee yet this morning to put that together.  Instead, I’ll just hope that the Chiplet’s favorite food is fresh mosquito larva and bid you to stay tuned…

Pre-Ramble:  At the risk of sounding like Dr. Seuss on a backyard nature hunt, I was all ready to call out the fact that yesterday, our little bird nest had gained a third egg. ! 

That’s right — every day for the past three days, Mother Chipping Sparrow has added another tiny blue egg to the brood. I am just fascinated by this nest … I must check on it fifty times a day. My husband isn’t nearly as taken with the whole thing. Basically, he just rolls his eyes and says something dismissive and passive-aggressive like, “Great.” 

So, then I got to thinking — really — do your readers care about some bird laying eggs on a front porch in suburban Minnesota?  Where’s the witty commentary on the important issues of the day?  The keen observations on innovation, creativity, and human behavior?  Where are the uplifting stories? The wise-cracks about celebrities and political figures?  Advice for the President’s dog?  … So, I figured a couple days of this birdy-cam news is all anyone really needs…

UNTIL TODAY!!  

This morning, plain as day, right there in the bottom of the nest, was A FOURTH EGG!!! 

Try as I might, Mother-B (shown above — not actual size) returned to the nest before I was able to scramble for the camera. I haven’t been able to catch her in an on-leave moment ever since.

Four eggs in four days … this Quatro-chick is really delivering!  The bird book said 3-5 eggs per brood was the range … and here we are at egg number four! Will there be a fifth tomorrow?  Will she exceed the national averages and go for egg number six?? This is almost more exciting than the American Idol finale! (Ok, maybe not.) (And my husband rolls his eyes about that too.)

The Take-Away:  Sometimes, you just need a break from all the gloom and doom …, the tabloid drama …, and take a look at the stuff going on in your own backyard.  Sure, the market might be down and gas prices might be up, but, hey – we’ve got four eggs in the nest!!

Pre-Ramble: Quick update on our bird nest …. According to the National Audubon Society’s Sibley Guide to Birds, our resident feathered friend (as discussed in May 12 post) is a Chipping Sparrow (Spizella passerina, shown right).

… a small, gray brown bird with a clear gray chest, rusty crown, white eyebrow with a black eye line, a thin gray black bill, and two faint wing bars.

Apparently, the female builds a “cup” style nest and lays 3-5 blue-green eggs with brown markings (!).  The incubation period is 11-14 days and then an additional 10-12 days of toddlerhood. The tell-tale detail though was this: “Nest is placed low in dense shrubs and is almost always lined with animal hair.” (!!!)

The Take-Away:  Another egg showed up in the nest this morning (see blurry photo below);  T-minus 1-3 more …

Pre-Ramble: The other day, much to my surprise, I spotted a tiny bird’s nest in one of the potted “trees” next to our front door. There was no bird in it, and no real signs of activity. I’ve been keeping an eye on the nest, hoping that the tidy, intricately woven little structure hadn’t been abandoned before it had had a chance to host a little bird family.

This nest was remarkable for several reasons:

1. just big enough to hold a golf ball, the architectural symmetry and detail of the nest was a wonder to behold;
2. as I looked closer, I realized that, mixed in with the blades of grass and twigs, the inside of the nest was lined with hundreds of strands of Daisy’s white dog hair. (Amazing, both in terms of the dexterity required to pick up a single stalk of dog hair in one’s beak, and in the incredibly putsy and undoubtedly time-consuming process of weaving all of that stuff into something livable.)
3. of all the luxurious, secluded locations available on our 2 acres of heavily wooded lot, Mother Bird picked a dried out tree topper (hastily jammed into containers last Christmas) that flanks the front doorway of our house — one of the highest trafficked areas possible, and right at Daisy’s nose level.

Well, so, this morning, after several days of the empty nest, just when I had nearly given up hope, I heard an unusual chirping coming from the front of the house. I won’t admit that I dashed over to see if the noise could be coming from the nest, and sure enough, a bird was now scrunched into the perfectly round little space… !

Immediately, I texted my girls with the good news; who, I assure you, are sitting at school right now going, “My mother is a nut-case.”

But wait — it gets better … (I know, you can barely stand it) … When I looked out the front window a few minutes later, the bird was gone, and cradled in the bottom of the nest was a single tiny blue egg… !

Yep — another text to the girls — and a photo (above right).

The Take-Away:  With spring break already a distant memory and grad parties in the air, many folks are lamenting/celebrating the fact that their youngest child will be headed off to college. I am happy to report that we’re not empty-nesters yet!

Pre-Ramble: While generally a mild-mannered person, I have been known to exercise my inner rebel by wearing wild pajamas. Without going into untoward detail, Target has an awesome brand of PJs made out of some kind of wonder-micro-fiber. Stretchy, wrinkle-proof, and more comfortable than all get out, these jammies come in a variety of bold colors and designs and are the perfect wardrobe choice for sleeping, lounging, (and blogging).

While perfect for many occasions, these jammies are not ideal for going out to get the morning newspaper. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that the end of my driveway was on some sort of parade route. Invariably, as I dash out to get the paper, I’ll be darned if somebody doesn’t come by at precisely that moment. We’re not talking about a distant drive-by — we’re talking about somebody, on foot, walking directly toward me in my pajamas. 

Busted!  It’s not like you can just turn around and bolt back into the house — you’ve already been sighted. No. Instead, like Wile E. Coyote standing on the “X” waiting for the anvil to fall, you’ve got to complete your mission, strolling casually out to the box and retrieving the paper as if there is nothing unusual about the situation. And, as if it’s not bad enough that you’re standing out on the street in wild pajamas, the oncoming person is probably close enough that you have to acknowledge them with some kind of eye-contact, or worse, an audible greeting. (I’ve found it best to say something like, “Good morning,” than what you really want to say.)

So today, while standing behind a tree while my husband fetched the paper, I heard some rustling overhead only to discover that there were two full-sized ducks sitting 40 feet up on a nearby tree branch.

Ducks! In a tree!? 

Probably any duck hunter worth his feathers knows that ducks hang out in trees. But to the average person, it just looks goofy. Ducks are bulky; they have a fuselage style body, and huge, flat, webbed feet. Ducks are not built to be up in trees, they are built to swim.  A duck in a tree is like Michael Phelps on the balance beam.

Turns out that these were wood ducks … elaborately decorated waterfowl, (shown above) which are generally found in wooded swampy areas in North America, and commonly nest in trees. Who knew?  Wood ducks will also build a nest in special “nest boxes” elevated four feet or higher near a lake or swamp. (Apparently a bunch of people knew about this; these boxes are all over the place.)

The Take-Away: This is just another reminder of why I love living in a wooded area — you just never know what kind of nature is going to happen. Today it was wood ducks in a tree; last year it was woodchucks in the backyard (and the five tiny woodchucklettes that would line up along the edge of the deck every afternoon to bask in the sun). 

The point is, having nature happen in your own backyard is both a pleasure and a privilege. We owe it to our fellow creatures to do what we can in our own sphere of influence to make the Earth a hospitable place for all of us. I’m not suggesting that you need to head over to Home Depot for wood-working supplies; just go a little green … recycle more stuff … spray less poison around in your yard … break for squirrels … Do what you can  

Post Note: If you are so inclined — to learn more about the “best practices” around wood duck nesting boxes, consult the Minnesota Wood Duck Society website. Unfortunately, we missed their annual meeting which was held on April 4th.

Pre-Ramble: According to our favorite meteorologist, the planets Venus and Jupiter will be brightly visible in the southwest skies at twilight over the next week or so. Astronomy is so amazing. There is something eerily comforting about the moon and stars and the enduring vastness of space. When my kids were little, we would take our sleeping bags out onto the driveway in the middle of the night and scan the canopy of darkness for the magical streaks of shooting stars.

Interestingly, moving along in the stardust as well, are thousands of orbiting ”space objects.” According to the U.S. Space Surveillance Network, there are more than 12,000 objects, including 600 operational satellites and what is known as “orbital debris” circling in the skies above the Earth, many of which can be seen with the naked eye. Iridium Communications Satelites, for example, are approximately the size of a Volkswagen Beetle and have highly polished antennas which reflect a bright flash of light when their orbit comes into alignment with the sun.

Featured moment: This week, and for the next several centuries, it is likely that you and the kids will also be able to spot a small, greasy, backpack-sized bag full of tools moving across the evening sky. In a recent and highly unfortunate mishap, astronaut and Minnesota native, Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper watched as her untethered tool bag, valued at $100,000, floated slowly out of reach during the first of four spacewalks scheduled to repair a jammed Solar Alpha Rotary joint. Apparently, a grease gun had exploded in the bag (hate it when that happens) during the “extravehicular activity,” whereupon the miffed astronaut was recorded as saying, “Oh, great.”

Seriously, that is what she said. I think something else would be rolling off my tongue if a grease gun had just exploded in my bag in the middle of a seven hour spacewalk. When interviewed later, the mortified Stefanyshyn-Piper blamed herself, noting that, “…[it was difficult] knowing that [I] made a mistake and living through that… it was the hardest coming back in and having to face everybody else.”

Hold on a second there, Heidemarie… If I’m not mistaken, while you, the only gal on the mission, were out there working your space gloves to the bone, your male crew mates were essentially inside just hanging around. (Please don’t tell me you still had to shop and rehydrate dinner when you finished up with that spacewalk.) And let’s not forget history here – in 1971, revered Apollo 14 Commander, Alan Shepard, lost three golf balls in some sophomoric high jinx on the moon. It’s hard enough to find a lost golf ball here on Earth and you don’t see him all sheepish and apologetic. He’s the one who should be embarrassed – did you hear the play-by-play on those iron shots?? He topped the first one, sliced the second, and then totally exaggerated the distance on the third. Let’s not blow the gravity of your situation out of proportion, for heaven’s sake; who among us hasn’t made a mistake on the job?

The Take-Away: Four things to take away here: 1) Grace under pressure - you have set a stellar example of how to handle challenging circumstances for the millions of young men and women who look up to you; 2) Teaching moment – you will probably learn and grow more from this experience than from all the perfect missions put together; 3) Notoriety – as “that astronaut who dropped the tool bag,” you will have something to talk about on Ellen for the rest of your career (you may even be able to do a double dipper on this if the bag ends up hitting someone in the back of the head at some point); and finally, 4) Take heart - you will be able to look back at this a couple light years from now and laugh.

Post Note: According to satellite trackers at SpaceWeather.com, the errant bag was spotted in the sky after sunset on Saturday, November 23rd by Edward Light using 10 X 50 binoculars while scanning the sky in his backyard in Lakewood, N.J.  On the same night, Keven Fetter of Brockville, Ontario, video-recorded the bag as it passed through the constellation Pisces. The satellite tracker predicts that the bag will be visible through binoculars from Eurpoe and western North America this week, and by late next week, should appear in the eveining skies over most of North America.

Pre-Ramble: Turns out that the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow might have more relevance than we thought. According to best-selling author, Malcolm Gladwell in his new book “Outliers,”  success is as much a function of circumstance, effort, and luck as it is about innate ability.  Gladwell, science buff and staff writer for The New Yorker, examines a  collection of modern-day success stories including that of Microsoft co-founder, Bill Gates; nuclear physicist,” Robert Oppenheimer; and legendary musical group, the Beatles. In each of these cases, he concludes that far beyond any singular factor, exceptional levels of achievement were made possible by a synchronous combination of factors including  intelligence, determination, effort (practicing a skill for at least 10,000 hours…!), advantageous upbringing, optimal educational opportunities, adequate socio-economic resources, being in the right place at the right time, and just plain luck. Personal circumstances are a necessary condition, he notes, but “a lot of things need to break just right” in order to launch an individual into the realm of extraordinary success. ”People don’t rise from nothing… they are invariably the beneficiaries of hidden advantages, extraordinary opportunities and cultural legacies that allow them to learn and work hard and make sense of the world in ways others cannot.” (Note: Gladwell has written two other very well received books,”Tipping Point” (2000) and “Blink” (2005), which indicates that extraordinary success is also a function of snappy, engaging book titles.)

The principle of synchronicity was demonstrated to me up close and personal one sunny day last summer while I was brushing my teeth and watching the sprinklers in our front yard (… ok, summer days are supposed to be slow…).  Three of the pivoting spigots were launching fitful arcs of water above the grass, when suddenly, like a well-orchestrated dance, the sprays intersected with each other and the sunlight to create a tiny, brilliant segment of a rainbow. It was a magical little moment, made even more so when I realized that, had I been standing in another place, or if it had been another time of day where the sun was in a different position in the sky, this bright array of colors would not have been visible to me.

The Point: Like hidden rainbows, Wall Street Journal book reviewer, David Shaywitz (11/15/08, p. W10) suggests that the real message in Gladwell’s “Outliers” is its focus on the profound reality of lost potential and the costs of such a loss to individuals and to society. How much potential out there is being overlooked or ignored? How much raw talent remains uncultivated and is ultimately lost? Do we cling to outmoded ideas of what success looks like and what is truly required to achieve it? Shaywitz notes that Gladwell’s perspective ”passionately emphasizes the need to recognize and cultivate great minds that might be limited by their circumstances or environment.”  

The Take-Away: Potentially great minds are as close as your own backyard. In fact, there is an infinite number of ”potential rainbows” all around you all the time, just waiting for the right set of circumstances to reveal themselves. Short of watching sprinklers all day, you can encourage the spectrum of unrealized potential in yourself and others and increase your opportunities to access the success you seek.  By intentionally increasing your range of experiences and keeping your eyes open, you can increase your potential solution set and the value that is waiting there. If you aren’t seeing your opportunities, chances are you’re just standing in the wrong spot (see Descarte’s diagram of a rainbow above). Move over a little and look again.