Oppositional Behavior Disorder

At our place, it's the resident male cardinal with oppositional behavior disorder.  He reveals it by repeatedly attacking his own reflection in whatever window is nearby.  I know he's at it again whenever I hear the sharp ping of his beak against the pane.  If I walk to where I can see him, he'll  be flying up at the window before his beak makes contact, and he falls back for a moment, forced to concede defeat.  Not for long, though.  His mate was waiting in the Locust tree by the patio this morning when he was engaged in his concerted efforts.  I wonder if she thought him foolish, or if she was proud of him.

Grant and Clarissa had told us about this cardinal.  That was the explanation for the big sheet of cardboard taped to one of the living room window panes.

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We have several other troublesome residents here--inside the house, and not nearly as beautiful as the cardinal.  I find some of them around the light over the kitchen sink in the evening, and destroy all that are too slow for me.  I always also prepare a final bath for them by putting an inch or two of water in the sink with a small squirt of Basic H.  In the morning I morbidly count the tiny floating carcasses and then dispose of them.

The other unwelcome residents appear in the form of gray shadows darting across the floor.  One of them was very small and confused enough when Hiromi spied it yesterday morning that it sat still while he went for a fly swatter to dispatch it.  We'd been warned about these pests too.

One warning has not yet proved to be a problem for us:  the mockingbird's singing at night.  I see the mockingbirds and am so happy they're here.  I hear lots of birdsong during the day, and assume it comes partly at least from the mockingbirds, although robins and kingbirds and orioles are contributing also.  The brown thrashers are no doubt doing a performance similar to the mockingbird's, being another member of the mimicking bird family.  It's been warm at night, and we have the air conditioner running and the windows closed, so that explains why the mockingbird's nighttime singing does not disturb us in the least.

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Overall, I love the quiet of this place.  At the farm I had a nice sitting place on the front porch, but it was in plain sight of any passing traffic.  Here, I have a small patio off the dining room, and I can sit there in my bathrobe and no one will see me.  The locust tree we planted almost 30 years ago shades the area perfectly and the shrubs and trees we planted between the house and the road shroud it in privacy, except for the wide-open view toward the east, where the sunrise beckons, and the green and gold fields spread a rich patchwork of color.

At my computer, I look out on the honeysuckle-covered mound of earth covering the cave cellar which serves as a tornado shelter also.  (That is, it will, just as soon as the door and stairway get replaced.  Right now getting there would entail a flying leap that I'm not sure even a tornado could force me to attempt.)  Sphinx moths and white butterflies feast on the honeysuckle blossom nectar.  I know they have nefarious roles otherwise (their larva are cabbage loopers and tomato hornworms), but I like watching them in the honeysuckle.

The bustle and liveliness of the farm had lots of appeal.  It was an inhabited place, full of productive farm animals, and growing crops, and the coming and going of their caretakers--an easy stopping off place for my dad and brothers and sons and nephews going to and from their farm tasks.  Even the passing traffic provided a welcome window on the world.  But this quiet contemplative atmosphere is welcome too, and I plan to enjoy it.

If my biggest problems here are cardinals at the windows, I'll be just fine.

Keys for a Successful Transition

On Saturday I trundled in to town to do some shopping--not one of my favorite activities, but it had to be done.  Hiromi was not about to risk getting an unsatisfactory upholstery fabric for the dining room chairs, so it was up to me.  When I saw the yardage price for the upholstery fabric, I remembered one of the reasons I hate to shop.  $30.00 a yard is a lot of money, and I always feel guilty about spending a lot of money.  The other reason I'm not fond of going to town is that I usually end up doing something that makes me feel stupid.  I told Hiromi this before I went, knowing it was probably revealing a flaw in my character to feel this way, but it's best to be honest.

The stupid moment came right after I exited Lowes and tried to unlock my car.  I don't nearly always lock my car, but after stowing away $100.00 worth of upholstery supplies, I didn't want them stolen, so I had checked carefully for the ignition key in my purse before leaving the vehicle.  It was right where it should be, and I knew I was all set.  Stupidity would be held at bay, due to my diligent foresight.  Moment of truth:  the ignition key did not unlock the door.

Then I remembered a second key which I had left inside the car.  It was for the trunk, the latch and lock there having been recently changed.  Could that also have been for the doors?  It didn't really make sense, but nothing else made sense either.

All this key business is about the Mitsubishi Eclipse that we recently purchased from Joel.  I now had one more gripe against the vehicle beside the mismatch between its sporty persona and my unsporty one:  the keys were complicated.  I don't do keys very well at all, or complicated little things in general.

I tried to call Hiromi, standing there in the parking lot with my bamboo expandable silverware tray in a bag on the top of the Eclipse.  He was out mowing and didn't answer.  Next I called Joel.  Things began to look up fast at this point.  He was only a mile or two away on the Ken Kennedy Parkway headed in to town instead of 30 minutes away in Partridge.  Best of all, he had a key on the floorboard behind the front passenger seat, and he thought it was probably for the Eclipse.

He soon showed up, but not before I had wildly waved to someone in a car that looked like Hilda's car--making sure they saw me in that big parking lot.  It was the wrong car.  It was a man alone in a car with a dealer's license plate.  Second stupid moment.

Joel's key fit the door lock.  He explained to me that he had at some point had to have the ignition switch replaced in the Eclipse.  That's why the ignition key does not fit the door locks.

When I got home, I found a key ring and put all three Eclipse keys on it.  This puts us one small step closer to having our lives together in this transition time.

Moving Observations

--If your husband is scary ruthless about throwing things away, it's best to pay no attention to what he's doing when he offers to sort through anything at all.  If it's the bathroom,  the following will still survive the purge:  Eight anti-itch products, 22 unused dental floss dispensers, and 15 boxes of gauze or band-aids.  You'll be glad to learn, however, that he did not throw away all the new toothbrushes and tubes of toothpaste that five people have accumulated over years of seeing the dentist every six months.  He put them on a "donation" pile. Your faith is partially restored.

--When you count 30 loose-leaf binders, mostly filled with research notes fitting into categories with the following labels:  Greek, Hebrew, or Akkadian, you get a glimpse of one family member's passions.  A newly-constructed eight-foot-wide shelf unit sits on top of two other tall bookcases to accommodate the binders.

--Dealing with "stuff" is incredibly tiresome.

--Sleek kitchen cabinets along two walls in a galley kitchen are wonderful, but they don't embrace nearly as many well-loved/used items as does a kitchen full of furniture, shelves, and blank walls for hanging things and providing a surface for things.  I'm a lot more French country and a lot less minimalist/modern than I used to know.

--I have a multitude of electric kitchen appliances--only some of which I chose or asked for.  I wanted the Kitchen-Aid mixer, the Vita-mix blender,  food processor, electric skillet, grain grinder, bread-machine, and crockpots in several sizes.  In our cookware set, we also acquired an electric indoor grill, and a liquid-core four-quart kettle.  I'm not sure of all the occasions calling for the purchase of an electric knife, griddle, rice cooker, toaster, turkey roaster,  2 coffee makers, coffee bean grinder, meat slicer, waffle irons, hand mixer, and non-stick electric saucepan.  Let's just say I have a husband who loves to provide and use such things.  Several were gifts or pass-along items.

--I wish I had more vision for using ebay to move unneeded things along.  I'm still trying to decide if working up the motivation and acquiring the skills would be wise.  I'm thinking especially of all those shelves of books that didn't survive the moving cut, and the dishes I may not need.  Advice?

Kingman Lake and Miscellaneous

We had our second annual Memorial Day cookout at Kingman State Fishing Lake last evening.  (Can you tell that I'm busily trying to inaugurate a new tradition?)  It almost didn't happen there because of rapid air movement--that kind that comes out of Oklahoma and rushes toward Nebraska, at a clip of up to 39 miles per hour.

Besides the wind, another concern was hail and tornadoes.  Kingman Lake was pretty far from our familiar safe shelters.  All the way home we saw lightening straight ahead, in the north.  This morning I saw a picture of a hailstone that fell in northern Kansas last night.  It nestled mostly in the palm of an adult's hand and reached almost to the fingertips.  I'm guessing it was 4 inches across.  The area up there was in a tornado watch.  Earlier in the day when we finally concluded that the weather excitement was likely to happen elsewhere, we opted to go ahead with the plan to go to Kingman Lake.

If Mom and Dad had chosen the picnic spot, it would likely have happened in Marvin and Lois' backyard.  Mom didn't relish the prospect of a windy event, and Dad was feeling less adventuresome than usual because of his surgery less than two weeks ago.  Deciding to go was one of the many times when the folks in my generation have to choose what seems best for everyone, trying to accommodate the needs of the young and old and those in between.  It still doesn't feel good to say, in effect, to one's parents,  "You'll just have to put up with what we decide, or skip the event and stay home."    It worked out fairly well, with bundling Mom up after the sun slipped behind the trees, and choosing our picnic spot in appropriately close proximity to the restroom facilities.

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Everyone in the family who was there last year for the Memorial Day picnic has a memory of an idyllic scene.  It was calm and cool and clear and dry.  But not everyone could be there.  Lowell's family was missing because they were cutting wheat at home.  Dad was missing because he was helping Lowell with harvest.  Mom and Linda didn't come because it didn't seem worth the effort with Dad not going.

This year, everything was verdant and green, including the wheat, some of which only now is beginning to show a hint of ripening.  The air was heavy with humidity--not welcome for people's comfort, but so good for allowing the wheat kernels to fill out and mature without shriveling--especially a hazard with hot, dry winds.

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We were still missing quite a few people this year besides those who live elsewhere.  Benji is in Chile, and Shane and Dorcas are in Tennessee with Dorcas' family.  Kristi and Christy are in Guatemala, and Hannah and Heidi were at a youth girls' cookout.  Grant and Clarissa were with a group from Plainview, and Hiromi was working at Wal-Mart.  Marcus was missing too.  Isaac, Susie, and Adam Peters helped fill the void.

It was really good to have Joel's family present, which will not likely happen often in the foreseeable future.

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Kingman Lake has two nice-looking cabins, which can be rented from the Park Service.  They are equipped with heating and cooling and a complete kitchen and bathroom, with sleeping space for six people.  They are handicap accessible.  Food, linens, and toiletries must be furnished by the renter, and the place must be left clean.  The cost is $70 a day, with a reservation fee of $14.00.  You can read all about it here.  Apparently the cabins were built by inmates in the state penal system.

Both times we've been there, the place was almost forsaken, except for our tribe.

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Before we ate, while the boys were exploring, they saw a Common Loon swimming in the lake.  A hurried trip back to the cookout area, an excited announcement, and a gaggle of interested observers following them happened then in rapid-fire order, and many of us saw it.  It's unusually late to see them migrating through here, and I couldn't see its markings since it was silhouetted against the setting sun, but that silhouette was distinctive, and I presume the boys had been able to see more markings than I could.

Earlier yesterday, at their place, Joseph had seen a hybrid Indigo/Lazuli Bunting.  It had the typical bunting shape, but its breast was white, and it had wing bars, with blue elsewhere.  Its song combined elements of both the Indigo and Lazuli Buntings.  Hybridization between these two species is apparently fairly common, but not commonly seen this late in this area.

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On the way home from Kingman Lake, most of the distance is traveled on a road that used to be K14.  In Reno County, this road is now treated as a county road, and farther south, it has been renamed K11.  This is because of some fancy wheeling and dealing in state agencies, with the county having assumed maintenance expenses for the section of the old K14 within the county, in exchange for the state paying for the construction of a four-lane road on K61 between Hutchinson and McPherson.  K14 has been routed east to K17 for at least a portion of its meander through Reno County.

I don't know if the rerouting explains this, but on the trek home via 20-30 miles of that old K14, our caravan of vehicles did not meet a single vehicle between K61 and K400.  Marvin and Lois' observation that Kansas has a vastly overbuilt highway system came to mind--good roads with minimal traffic.

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I was driving Li'l Red last night.  This time I got the headlights on on the second try, so that represents progress.  I was feeling fairly good about how things were going on the way home till I discovered that the driver's side window was cockeyed in the extreme.  I had cranked it down all the way after I got to the picnic area. When I was ready to leave, it had gotten a lot cooler, and it was still really windy, so I cranked it up.  I noticed that it hadn't closed completely, but I couldn't seem to crank it any farther, so I left well enough alone and put up with the wind whistling through the cab at annoying speeds.  I was busy hurtling along a bumpy dirt road at the time, and ruing the minimal effect the shocks were exerting on the jolting sensations this involved.

Later, on the highway, when I discovered how bad the window really was, I could hardly force myself to maintain what felt like a slightly reckless 60 mph speed--necessary because of the whole family caravan politely following behind.  Lowell's tail lights had long since disappeared up ahead.  The top back corner of the window somehow ended up outside the frame at the top of the door, while the top front corner was firmly  lodged in the window track, about halfway up.  I don't know if side wind pressure had somehow knocked it off its normal track or what.

After Hiromi got home, he checked it out a bit and soon saw that the window was entirely disengaged from the window crank, and he couldn't dislodge it from its racked position.  Since there was still a slight chance of rain, he took the precaution of pulling it inside the open-front garage.

I'm still thankful for the use of Li'l Red, but I'm increasingly convinced that I liked my Mercury Villager minivan a whole lot better.

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On Sunday, Hiromi and I went with Joel to Wesley Hospital in Wichita to visit two people:  Marian Y. and Hiromi's brother-in-law, Vernon Smith (Smitty).

Marian was recovering from an infection which showed up in the vicinity of a port that had been surgically installed the previous week, to facilitate chemotherapy with fewer needle sticks involved.  She came home again on Monday, feeling much better, after having the port removed, the infection treated with antibiotics, and taking in IV nourishment and hydration.

Smitty had a stroke on Friday of last week.  After fairly normal early morning activities, his wife noticed some strange behavior at the breakfast table and had the presence of mind to call 911.  When the first responders arrived, she went to let them in at the front door, and Smitty, who was sitting at the breakfast table, apparently attempted to follow and fell, striking his head on something hard.

At the hospital in Hutchinson, they promptly transferred him to Wichita by ambulance.  One concern was bleeding on his brain.

After things were further sorted out, it was discovered that the bleeding on the brain, which was apparently not too extensive, was likely a result of his fall, since the stroke effects happened on the other side of his brain.  By Sunday afternoon, he had recovered the ability to speak, to use his right side, and to do a limited amount of walking.  We haven't heard when he will be released, but it's good to see him improving gradually.

My sister, Lois, who is a nurse, observed that treating Smitty's condition could be difficult, especially if the stroke was caused by a blood clot.  To try to dissolve a clot and control bleeding at the same time--that would be the challenge.

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My fall tomatoes have germinated in containers inside--so designated because I'm way too late for the normal planting time.  I planted three high-furaneol (good flavor gene) varieties:  Fabulous, Red Defender, and Scarlet Red.  I've already tried and rejected Mountain Glory (plant health and productivity were both unimpressive in our climate), but have yet to try SecurITY.  Scarlet Red is an extremely compact and bushy plant--so much so that it's difficult to find the fruit.  Red Defender is apparently very attractive to rabbits or something else, since I replanted three times in several spots last year, and they got nibbled off every time.  I did have at least one plant survive, but Hiromi pronounced the fruit slightly less tasty than Fabulous.  Both were good though.  Hiromi's highly prejudiced in favor of Fabulous, so I'm on my own in experimenting with other varieties.  I personally think it makes good sense since Fabulous seed is apparently commercially unavailable now--sad as that is.
 
 

Oklahoma!

When I was in high school, one of the singing groups there sang the theme song from the movie Oklahoma! in a program.  I didn't ever see the movie, and I don't remember much of the song, but I sometimes sing the part I remember--usually when it would fit perfectly for Kansas.  "OOOOOOOOOOklahoma--where the wind comes sweeping down the plain, down the plain, and the waving wheat can sure smell sweet, when the wind comes right behind the rain."

Today I have Oklahoma on my mind, and whenever I think of the song, I can't get past the first syllable without hearing a wail or at least a moan in that long drawn-out OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  I'm very grateful that the death toll from yesterday's powerful F4 tornado has been revised downward from 91 to 24, and that among the school fatalities, there were only nine children instead of many more, but there is still a lot of grief and destruction to deal with.  Over 200 are injured, and hundreds of homes are destroyed.

In trying to visualize the nearly total destruction we're hearing about, Kansans will think of Greensburg, only Moore, OK was a much larger urban area.  In the late 90s, a similarly destructive storm also destroyed much of the city.  I knew this one was bad when the Weather Watchers Facebook site I was following yesterday said "An incredible tornado disaster is unfolding in Moore, OK . . . They need our prayers."  I couldn't have summed it up better myself.

Food Production Class

I'm getting excited about teaching this class again in the 2013-2014 school year.  I'm hatching plans for several field trips to experts in the area who grow fruit trees and grapes.  The vineyard keeper who agreed to having us visit his vineyard on the east side of Hutchinson is trained in horticulture and works as a foreman in a nursery. He sells grapevines at the farmer's market this time of year, and is very helpful in sharing his experience and information.   The orchardist is also an experienced grafter, and I hope to have him show my students how to graft fruit trees.  Another thing I like about his approach is that he is extraordinarily tuned in to natural methods of pest and disease control, and early on in his fruit tree growing venture, he transplanted many plants from the wild if he knew they were natural hosts to insects that helped control damaging insects.  Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) is the only one I remember.

I also hope to give the students hands-on experience in pruning bramble fruits and fruit trees--in the process helping nearby families with some of their spring food production chores.

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We plan to use an extension service booklet as the "textbook" for growing vegetables.  It's an excellent guide written specifically for Kansas gardeners, and is available at a reasonable price.  I'd like something similar for growing fruits, herbs, and for raising food-producing animals--from honeybees to beef.  Everything should be applicable to family-sized, small-farm production models, and should be low-cost.  If you know of such a resource, please tell me.

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I hope students take this class with their parents' full support.  A few students know they want to take the class, but I'm sure there's a lot of "I'm afraid it'll be too much work" sentiment out there, and students are clever enough to convince their parents that this is a valid argument.   I do have plans to make some of the details easier to manage than when I first taught the class.  That's part of the reason for seeking out textbook "booklets" instead of relying entirely on gathered materials as we did earlier.  I also expect to streamline the studying/quizzing process.   What I will not do is "dumb down" the class so much that students find it a breeze, but run the risk of emerging without having learned much at all beyond what their parents could have taught them in a few sessions at the end of a hoe.  I'd like for everyone in the class to learn the sum of all that any of the parents know, and perhaps a few things beyond that.  

I wish students could look ahead far enough to see what might be very much harder than taking a class on food production:  having a family to feed on a tight budget (and in families with stay-at-home-moms, this will usually be the case), especially if good nutrition is a matter of concern--and NOT having the skills to produce low-cost, nutritious food at home.   After one year of not growing my own transplants, I'm dismayed at how much it costs to have someone else do it for me.  While setup costs for growing your own transplants may not pay off in one year, it won't take long for that to happen.  For me, this year, I would certainly have not paid more in setup costs than I paid for plants.  Besides this, if you do this with your children's help, they will feel the delight of being involved with living things, and they will know how to do this when they have a family to provide for.

Another thing I'd be happy to have students understand now is that if they learn to produce food in Kansas, they can probably do so anywhere.  The same strategies that produce food here will produce more food almost everywhere else.

If students are fortunate enough to acquire a love for gardening, they will welcome every new growing season with joy.  What's not to like about that?

Sunday Wrapup 5/20/2013

We've survived the second day of dire weather predictions without having been impacted severely by wind, hail, or tornadoes.  What we've had instead are two little rains of about a third of an inch each, with lots of thunder. Things were more exciting elsewhere in the state and region, and right now I'm pretty sure that, in this department, boring is better than exciting.

A number of the people driving home today from having been at Marcus Wagler's wedding in Missouri drove through some of the active weather events.  A few of them spent time in a tornado shelter near Augusta and others were in a cooler at the Flying J rest area near Emporia.  A few ____________? (choose your own adjective) souls continued driving right through it all.

Yesterday I pondered what would happen to cattle on this place if we really did get baseball-sized hail with 70 mph winds.  They can't get in under roof anywhere.  I remember when the old tin-roofed barn was still standing during a hail storm like this in the sixties--minus the high winds.  We stood on the porch and watched as the cattle ran in and out of the barn in a panic.  The noise inside freaked them out and the hailstone bonks on the outside did the same.

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My dad had colostomy reversal surgery last Wednesday and is still at Wesley Hospital in Wichita.  He will likely come home as soon as he is able to eat solid foods and handle them well.  In general, he is doing quite well, but it's obvious that he sometimes needs an advocate to help see that he gets what he needs (and avoids getting what he does not need).

From his 8th-floor room with a view to the west, he likely had a good view of the recent storms blowing in.

I think they must have had a real party in his room this evening.  Marvin and Lois, Ronald and Brenda, and Shane and Dorcas were all there at the same time.  Shane's family had spent Sat. night and Sun. morning at Ronald's place and they drove together to Wichita.

One strange incident during Dad's hospital stay was the disappearance of his cellphone.  The only two ways anyone could think of it having left the room were either via the meal tray or the bedding, and neither the dining room or the laundry area had found the phone.

Last night I got a call from Clarence Stutzman from Ohio--Dad's friend and age-mate, who had been trying to call him over the past few days.  No one ever answered--until last night, when a stranger finally answered and said they were at Wesley Hospital but they didn't know who the phone belonged to.  Clarence told them it was David Miller's phone, and then he called Uncle Paul, who suggested he call me.

I had just gotten home from having visited Dad, so I sent word to the hospital that the phone was somewhere there, although Clarence had not been able to give me much information, except that he assumed it was in the hospital's "lost and found." Lowell was the one at the hospital with Dad, so he was the one to receive the phone when a lady walked in with it while still talking to Marvin, who was the one I had notified, since he was staying with Dad when we left.  Marvin told her the owner was in room 831.

While she was there, someone mentioned having a problem with Dad's bed.  She reached confidently into a certain spot and flipped a lever that fixed things immediately.  She left promptly then before anyone had a chance to ask any more questions.  It's still not clear how she happened to be in possession of the phone.

People who were praying for Dad probably didn't know that their prayers might result in a conscience attack for someone else, and I'm sure they weren't praying specifically for that.  It's a good thing God can interpret and answer our prayers any way He chooses.

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The crowd at church was smaller than at any time in recent memory.  There were actually some empty sections on some benches.

Several families were gone to Faith Builders' graduation.  Jewel Y., John M., Holli N., and Kenneth S. all graduated this year.  Others had gone to Marcus Wagler's wedding, and still others went to a volleyball tournament in MO.  (I probably shouldn't tell you what I think of interstate travel for volleyball.)

Seven of our eight ministers were elsewhere today.  Oren, LaVerne, and Gary were somewhere between PA and home.  Gary had spent the night in Chicago, presumably because of weather-related flight cancellations.  Julian was in Mexico, Arlyn in OK, David at Arlington, and dad in the hospital.  Dwight was the lone minister present.

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When my sister  Clara's family moved to Columbus, OH, they moved in next to Bob and Marla Spencer.    They became almost as close as family.  Bob and Marla took the children under their wing, shared a room in their house when the Schrocks had overnight guests, and did many other things families would do for each other.  Bob died today or yesterday.

Bob had suffered a tragedy as young man.  When he retrieved a stray ball from the edge of someone else’s property, the resident shot him, and permanently paralyzed his lower extremities.

As an adult, Bob made his living by serving others who were handicapped.

I’m sure that those who were closer to Bob could share a great deal about his life that I don’t know.  I do know that he lived an amazingly bitter-free and productive life.

Stories like Bob’s have influenced my views on gun rights, as well.

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In Shane’s absence, Hiromi and I went to Farmer’s Market on Saturday.  The weather was nice and it was a pleasant day, although the crowd was a bit more sparse than a week earlier.  I think graduations must have affected the crowd.

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On Tuesday of this week, the Spanish class plans to leave for Guatemala, with two couples going as sponsors.  A total of 21 people will travel together.

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We found summer homes for all the hanging baskets at school–just ahead of the church cleaning, when one of the plants got a severe haircut last year.  A year later it is no longer painful to look at, but it still has less than half of the foliage it had earlier.

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I spent my first week out of school mostly in working on getting the garden planted at the Trail West place.  The only crops are warm weather crops, since it’s too late to plant cool weather crops.  I didn’t start my own seeds this year, but bought the plants at Stutzmans instead.  When I paid for them I had a sharp reminder of why I usually start my own seeds.

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I’m pretty sure that my priorities in getting ready to move are different from other people’s.  I won’t defend mine.  I just know what feels manageable and what doesn’t right now, so getting the garden ready is happening before getting the boxes packed.

Birding Boys

Here is a link to a blog post on the Pratt Tribune website about the North American Migration Count at Quivira National Wildlife Refuge, about 30 miles west of here. My nephew, Joseph, sent me a link to the blog. Three nephews, one cousin's son, and one family friend are the five young men in the article.  The father who is identified should be Myron--not Lowell.  Both are my brothers.  Since it's a short post, I am copying it here:

• Tracking bird migration with five young men
• • By Brandon Case

How many youth today would arise well before dawn and travel 30 miles to spend most of the day identifying and tallying bird species?

At least five young men from the Partridge and Abbyville area did as much when they headed for Quivira National Wildlife Refuge to take part in the annual North American Migration Count.

I spent about three and a half hours with the Miller cousins/brothers: Bryant, 14, Andrew, 12, Joseph, 14, and Anthony, 14; their friend Ben Garrett;  a couple of fathers, Lowell Miller and Joel Garrett; and Barry Jones, who works at the refuge.

The experience of interacting with and observing these young men gives me great hope for the future. While many youth today seem almost inseparable from their cell phones and other personal electronic devices, these five spend ample time outdoors and been birding for the past five years in Kansas and other states. They have definitely not lost touch with nature and our interconnectedness with God’s creation.

These young men readily identified birds in flight, on the ground, and hidden in the trees and brush. I was impressed with their birding knowledge and skills.

I left the refuge around 12:15 p.m., by which time the group had already six hours sighting 121 species. After lunch, the Millers and Garretts continued the count with Barry Jones, driving north to the Big Salt Marsh.

The North American Migration Count is a great way to spend all, or part, of a day. You don’t even have to travel to Quivira to participate. You can head anywhere in Pratt County and start counting. For more information about this annual event, visithttp://community.gorge.net/birding/namcstasz.htm .

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I'm also copying an email Andrew sent me:

Dear Birders, 

This past Saturday we (Joey, Anthony,Dad,a Friend,and Bryant and I) went to Quivira for a day of birding.
 Barry Jones the refuge manager had invited us because it was the North American Migration Count that
 day and he was going to be out most of the light hours.  His goal was to get as many species as possible
in a 24-hour period.  We had a great day and our group ended up with 147 birds.  Some of the highlights
were,

Ruddy Turnstone (breeding male)

Lark Bunting (15 to 20)

Sanderling

Cinnamon Teal( breeding male)

Dark-eyed Junco(Gray-headed)(beating the Kansas late date by 30 days)

Blue-headed Vireo

Black-bellied Plover

Western Sandpiper

Virginia Rail

We had a great day for birding and tons of fun

                                  Happy Birding

Andrew 

Another happy event of the day was learning about a program Barry Jones has up his sleeve, which will feature a series of levels through which birders can advance and acquire some recognition along the way.  He hopes the five boys named above will be the first to try out the program and earn the recognition.  The highest level will require the birder to photograph a whooping crane.  These birds were at one time so nearly extinct that only sixteen remained in the wild.  Although this bird is still one of the rarest North American birds, the population has begun to recover and migrates through Quivira each year.  These majestic birds stand just under five feet tall and are the tallest North American birds.  

At graduation the evening before the big counting day, I had heard from Ben's mother about the  plans for the following day.  It seems that Ben may actually have been the one who put the plans together.  All the boys are homeschooled.

Ben's father is an art teacher in the Nickerson school district.  We have learned to know the family through Hiromi and Joel Garrett's mutual interest in creating pottery.  We traveled together several years ago to the Great Bend area to dig clay in an area owned by a major brick manufacturing company.  The company president took us back into the hills around the factory to show us where to dig for the various colors of clay.  It was a lovely outing.