tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18972045879075927692024-03-19T13:23:25.810-04:00Punk Rock Big YearA year's worth of birding and tattoos.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-64380032096546712272013-05-10T17:33:00.004-04:002013-05-10T17:33:55.182-04:00The Biggest Week - 2013This is long. But hey, it was the <a href="http://www.bsbobird.org/" target="_blank">Biggest Week</a> and a lot happened in 4 days.<br />
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<span class="s1">May is the best month for a birder in the northern hemisphere. And in north America, the first two weeks of May are the absolute best. That's when we get so many neotropical migrants back. And in big numbers too. There's a very special region where a couple flyways converge. For Canada, it's <a href="http://www.pc.gc.ca/eng/pn-np/on/pelee/ne/ne5.aspx" target="_blank">Point Pelee National Park</a>. In the USA, it's Magee Marsh and Black Swamp region of northern Ohio. When I did my big year in 2011, I visited Point Pelee and saw lots of great birds, over 100 were added to my year list and will be forever inked onto my body. This year, I decided to try out Ohio, the self-described Warbler Capitol of the World. And holy shit, did Ohio ever deliver. </span>There's a birding event each spring organized entirely by the amazing Kim Kaufman and her equally amazing staff at <a href="http://www.bsbobird.org/" target="_blank">BSBO</a>. It's called the <a href="http://www.bsbobird.org/" target="_blank">Biggest Week</a> in American Birding and if you want to see spring migrants dripping from the trees, this is the place to be from May 1-15 and beyond.</div>
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<span class="s1">I had an amazing birding experience but an equally amazing people-ing experience. I had the distinct honor of being a keynote speaker at the <a href="http://www.bsbobird.org/" target="_blank">Biggest Week</a> this year. My talk was written to introduce people to Punk Rock Big Year and why I'm doing it. It also gave the folks already following me a closer look at the film, the tattoos and the person behind the initiative. I was very nervous about taking to so many people (there must have been over 100 in the room). If you know me personally, you know I'm not a big public speaker. For work, I present to people all the time, but never more than about 5 or 6. Other than one heckler, I think it went pretty well. I never puked or wet myself beforehand so I guess that says a lot. Let me say right here that I don't think Mr. Heckler was intending on disrupting me but more engaging with me so I ain't gonna complain about it. Here's a clip from my film. Some of the music is just a placeholder the edit is not 100% final but it gives you a little idea of where it might be going.</span><br />
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<span class="s1"><b>The people</b></span></h2>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">This was a Kentucky Warbler. Showing nicely.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Let's start with Kim and Kenn Kaufman. What can I say? Kenn is the man that inspired me to do Punk Rock Big Year (PRBY). Both he and Kim have been huge supporters since the first day we met. They are awesome and often I work to impress them and that's why things are still churning with PRBY. I don't need to tell you how good of birders these two are do I? I birded once with Kenn in 2011 and it was like birding with a living field guide. A great experience that taught me much in just a few hours.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Then, let's move on to Sharon, the infamous <a href="http://www.birdchick.com/wp/" target="_blank">Birdchick</a>. She is pure positive energy and awesomeness wrapped in a small package (I literally towered over her) but was blown away by how inclusive she was with anyone or anything to do with her mission, bird love and conservation. She thinks strategically about how to amplify bird conservation and never stops working at it. She's also a killer birder and I will never ever EVER forget going Wookcocking with her. No matter what craziness you get up to, Woodcocking is stranger than that. Visit her <a href="http://www.birdchick.com/wp/" target="_blank">site</a>, like and follow her, you won't be sorry you did. I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Sharon's husband, non-birding Bill. He shares a thing or two in common with my lovely wife Rachel. And that thing ain't birds.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.outdoorafro.com/" target="_blank">Rue Mapp</a>. There's a lady that has a goal. Nothing will ever stop this woman. I for one would hate to be an obstacle between her and her goals. What are those goals? To get black Americans to connect with nature. Her organization is called <a href="http://www.outdoorafro.com/" target="_blank">Outdoor Afro</a> and no matter what colour you are, you need to check out her initiatives. It's great stuff and I found her very inspiring to be around. Why? Well, I'm trying to influence another group that has potentially lost their connection to nature, youth. We share a common goal and now we have shared the experience of Woodcocking too. I think it was a first for both of us. So go, learn more about her. You'll be a better person for knowing her.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Prior to going to the Biggest Week, Rachel and I started watching a Netflix series called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2309295/" target="_blank">Hemlock Grove</a>. After the first episode, we looked at one another and said, "What the f**k just happened?" but in a good way. It felt the same sort of good you felt after a first encounter with the Log Lady in Twin Peaks. We were intrigued. We watched another episode each night prior to me departing for Ohio. We got to 7 or 8. The series never leveled out on the normalcy scale, it stayed nicely weird. We were happy to see a few actors/actresses we both enjoy in it. One of them was <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000666/" target="_blank">Lili Taylor</a>. She plays the mother of one of the characters, and she's also a birder, and she was also at the Biggest Week. I certainly didn't want to bother her on what was obviously some personal time. But I figured I should at least say hi and that I really enjoy her work. So I walked over and asked (like any birder would).</span></div>
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<span class="s1">"What have you got there?"</span><br />
<span class="s1">I can't remember now what bird it was. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Then I said, "I know you, don't I?"</span></div>
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<span class="s1">She said, "Probably, and I know you. You're that punk birder guy."</span></div>
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<span class="s1">What? She knew me? Crazy. We chatted a bit and birded a bit. Turns out she also knew Birdchick Sharon and Rue Mapp. Much to my delight, we all kind of hung out and birded together for the next few days. Ya, we all went Woodcocking together. Lili is a delightful person to spend time with and I hope we will bird together again some day. It was super cool to meet an artist I respect and find out that I can also respect the person behind the art.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Birding with <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000666/" target="_blank">LiliTaylor</a>.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Remember I said I was nervous about my talk, well, shit got more stressful when Rue, Sharon and Lili said they'd be attending my keynote. And to make things ever more intense for me, actual punks were showing up too. I'm kind of an old punk but not like a musician, more like I just love punk music and artists. The two dudes that I heard were attending the show were none other than Tony Croasdale and Bull Gervais of R.A.M.B.O. fame. If you don't know them, look them up. They were a great punk band that are also birders. They aren't the only real punk birders I've met but are for sure the only ones that were coming to the Biggest Week. They turned out to be awesome dudes and they said I did just fine with my presentation. Though they are punk as f**k, these days, Tony is an Environmental Education Program Coordinator and Bull gave me a business card that says he manages a Food CO-OP in Philly. Both very natural things for punks to be doing.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">You might ask why there were punks at a birding festival. Mostly because of the amazing birds that would be there but also, they were a great addition to Kim's whole theme of this years Biggest Week, a focus on diversity. A longtime ago we had an idea that we might try and be the first ever birding festival that held a tattoo contest. It was so good. We had 11 people enter. That was 10 more than we thought we'd have. I was of course disqualified because I was a judge. Tony and Bull though were not and did they ever bring it. Bull ended up the winner of the grand prize, a new pair of binoculars. Tony was a runner up. All the tats were awesome. Bull's entire upper body is a huge tribute to birds. Some rare, some not rare, some extinct, some from America, some from Asia. But the best part was his huge necklace made of woodpeckers and storks. It was awesome. When I began PRBY I had wondered if I were the only one. This past weekend cemented the fact that I was not.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Judging Tony Croasdale of R.A.M.B.O.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The winner, Bull. Ya, that's an Ivory-billed Woodpecker.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Tony. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Tony.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1O-jrt4kLlMN6DDidM_sGdzpW55_h-sOrqkMu8euGdN8NrZPaTeyIpCALJg-QDGoSQxAwEu2-0aMrZP6w2ktgViYvxPnCmhnvRQZ_loKXJ7H97_4tQc71GkrgoNbP0KdhcsUW4iBd0go/s1600/IMG_2722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS1O-jrt4kLlMN6DDidM_sGdzpW55_h-sOrqkMu8euGdN8NrZPaTeyIpCALJg-QDGoSQxAwEu2-0aMrZP6w2ktgViYvxPnCmhnvRQZ_loKXJ7H97_4tQc71GkrgoNbP0KdhcsUW4iBd0go/s400/IMG_2722.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGXc2mukHKhf18YaUC8CWYeGYwusbYvP4dgrIPtZIWPbFMUCD0zUPPkn83yy-Ph-2D5Ny24_C_4hAV7jPR9l2L8phwqmFKiwJty6_forThPMZ4kOf3ijD1bjTrZvwmgyel3z2Tav7vazr/s1600/IMG_2724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGXc2mukHKhf18YaUC8CWYeGYwusbYvP4dgrIPtZIWPbFMUCD0zUPPkn83yy-Ph-2D5Ny24_C_4hAV7jPR9l2L8phwqmFKiwJty6_forThPMZ4kOf3ijD1bjTrZvwmgyel3z2Tav7vazr/s400/IMG_2724.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQv66F2RWnPE8qPMkMT1AjDhAqy7b4foHI0Ph6IgWuvdDEnH0OpqmlOxxVK4AaLffh-rGcOzJry-fwNalJze3Dbw6JHeABZR3gN03-GWWyXBikGh9usuAyMr7TLETRoRl1-YeojtFKsR4/s1600/IMG_2725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQv66F2RWnPE8qPMkMT1AjDhAqy7b4foHI0Ph6IgWuvdDEnH0OpqmlOxxVK4AaLffh-rGcOzJry-fwNalJze3Dbw6JHeABZR3gN03-GWWyXBikGh9usuAyMr7TLETRoRl1-YeojtFKsR4/s400/IMG_2725.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Oh yeah, there were birds too. Birds like mad. I've never seen anything like it before. At times you never knew where to look. There were certain birds I had before but needed better views of, some I had dipped on before and some that we're just plain out of my reach. Magee Marsh Boardwalk killed nearly all the missing species I needed and wanted. The views I had of a Worm-eating Warbler were insane. I had views like I've had of Black-throated Green Warblers. It was nuts. The Mourning Warbler was basically at my feet. I had never seen that bird in full sun before. That colour I had always assumed was a muted flat gray, shone in the sunlight like a classic hotrod painted with 20 coats of deep gray, followed by a coating of sparkling silver and then a dozen coats of clear coat. I've never seen anything like it before on a bird. Then there was the Kentucky Warbler (a bird I had missed during my big year). It practically picked a bug out of a crack in my boot leather. A Warbling Vireo at arms length, a Scarlet Tanager that almost hurt my eyes it was so brilliant, a Northern and Louisiana Waterthrush foraging in the same two feet of wet leaf litter. I could go on but you probably have better things to do. Suffice to say you should go there next spring.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Some people commented on the odd picture I posted where there were Hughes crowds looking at a great bird. They said it looked terrible. If you follow my twitter feed you know I'm not one for crowds but this is different. People are respectful and we all make sure everyone gets a look. I never would've got the two Waterthrushes if it weren't for a woman that told me to stay and that it's habit was to leave and then return every 10 minutes. I stayed and I got the bird along with 20 other birders. I understand if you prefer to bird alone. Sometimes I do too but that's not what the Biggest Weeks all about. It's a birding festival, it'll be busy, we get to see folks we haven't in a while, meet new and interesting people. Hell, if I didn't go to this because of the crowds, I never would have met Sharon, Tony, Lili, Rue, Bull and so many other amazing people. Knowing that, I wouldn't trade the last few days for anything. It was an amazing experience. And besides, when I'm looking through my bins, it's just me and the bird, nobody else.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<h2>
<b>The birds</b></h2>
</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Not that it really matters but here's my list from those few days. 100 species. Not terrible.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Pied-billed Grebe</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Double-crested Cormorant</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Great-blue Heron</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Great Egret</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Trumpeter Swan</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Canada Goose</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Mallard</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Blue-winged Teal</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Turkey Vulture</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Cooper's Hawk</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Red-tailed Hawk</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Bald Eagle</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">American Kestrel</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Sora</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Ring-billed Gull</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Common Tern</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Mourning Dove</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Rock Pigeon</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Black-billed Cuckoo</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Eastern Screech Owl (lifer) grey</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Great-horned Owlette</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Eastern Whip-poor-will (lifer-visually)</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Red-bellied Woodpecker</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Downy Woodpecker</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Northern Flicker</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Least Flycatcher</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Eastern Phoebe</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Great-crested Flycatcher</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Eastern Kingbird</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Red-eyed Vireo</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Warbling Vireo</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">White-eyed Vireo</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yellow-throated Vireo</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Blue-headed Vireo</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Blue Jay</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">American Crow</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Purple Martin</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Tree Swallow</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Barn Swallow</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Black-capped Chickadee</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Red-breasted Nuthatch</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">White-breasted Nuthatch</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Carolina Wren</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">House Wren</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Marsh Wren</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Golden-crowned Kinglet</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Ruby-crowned Kinglet</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Blue-gray Gnatcatcher</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">American Robin</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Wood Thrush</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Veery</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Swainson's Thrush</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Hermit Thrush</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Gray Catbird</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Northern Mockingbird</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Brown Thrasher</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">European Starling</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Northern Parula</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Orange-crowned Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Tennessee Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Blue-winged Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Nashville Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yellow Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Chestnut-sided Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Magnolia Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Cape May Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Black-throated Blue Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Cerulean Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Blackburnian Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Yellow-rumped Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Black-throated Green Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Palm Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Bay-breasted Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Blackpoll Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Worm-eating Warbler (lifer)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Prothonotary Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Black-and-white Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">American Redstart</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Ovenbird</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Northern Waterthrush</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Louisiana Waterthrush (lifer)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Kentucky Warbler (lifer)</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Connecticut Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Mourning Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Common Yellowthroat</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Canada Warbler</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>29 effing Warblers! Had I counted before writing this, I would have worked harder for the Wilson's that was around...</b></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Scarlet Tanager</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Northern Cardinal</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Rose-breasted Grosbeak</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Eastern Towhee</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">White-throated Sparrow</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Song Sparrow</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Brown-headed Cowbird</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Red-Winged Blackbird</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Common Grackle</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Baltimore Oriole</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Orchard Oriole</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">House Finch</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">American Goldfinch</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">House Sparrow</span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span><br />
<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-2426421795900643002013-04-24T21:21:00.001-04:002013-04-24T21:21:26.746-04:00WTFWhat The Font?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Ye2_Wcdb935-OE9FFQXFSnZPb0iL8j41_pNM9yE3PFDV9_KmUbgKuwKkUK3eUcjxI7qJOasG6vojZjIFPsRvpPo8UxRSynV7Ui-GGY-7bE7j9xCBGz609KjMG3Dqc5KQAk-Y-x50kYau/s1600/armTATS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Ye2_Wcdb935-OE9FFQXFSnZPb0iL8j41_pNM9yE3PFDV9_KmUbgKuwKkUK3eUcjxI7qJOasG6vojZjIFPsRvpPo8UxRSynV7Ui-GGY-7bE7j9xCBGz609KjMG3Dqc5KQAk-Y-x50kYau/s400/armTATS.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_1479515326"></span><span id="goog_1479515327"></span><br />
<br />
This is a question that kept coming up again and again with this project. And it was something I considered an awful lot leading up to the first tattoo session. What font do I love? I mean really love. The kind of love that lasts, well, a lifetime. And according to some exhumed bodies (I've seen pictures of), this loves gotta' last beyond the grave. I hope there's no reason to dig me up after I'm done here but if they do, they'll see that I'm covered in tattoos of Latin words.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEkkyWDa22EuOLK5crLxZPTAjPWRQG7ZTqqI5uVklVeO902PqLsrV1BaKoA0vJAvMoEfsN4F4y6gnRXhWGts5Rim5T4IgjQbsia-tG6i6VRCWj5XCfafH49xK-C71ZlC7MtjvdwnhQMVQq/s1600/backTATS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEkkyWDa22EuOLK5crLxZPTAjPWRQG7ZTqqI5uVklVeO902PqLsrV1BaKoA0vJAvMoEfsN4F4y6gnRXhWGts5Rim5T4IgjQbsia-tG6i6VRCWj5XCfafH49xK-C71ZlC7MtjvdwnhQMVQq/s400/backTATS.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The question I've been getting a lot from you fine folks; So when you decided to be a crazy person and tattoo 468 Latin words on your body for ever and ever and ever, what font did you choose? It's a font called Sailor Gothic. It was designed about 10 years ago by Christian Acker, the owner of the awesome agency out of NYC called <a href="http://www.adnauseum.net/" target="_blank">Adnauseum</a>. He's the kind of designer that makes me feel like I'm a shit designer.<br />
<br />
But not only does he run an agency, he's the author of the book <a href="http://handselecta.com/book.html" target="_blank">Handselecta, Flip The Script</a> too. Oh yeah, and he's a <a href="http://www.myfonts.com/fonts/cubanica/sailor-gothic/" target="_blank">type designer</a>. The best part is you too can start getting tattoos in Sailor Gothic by clicking <a href="http://www.myfonts.com/fonts/cubanica/sailor-gothic/" target="_blank">this link</a> and buying a copy of the font right now...<br />
<br />
So big thanks to Christian for designing a font that'll be with me for as long as I'll be here. His book is a really interesting study of graffiti tags, their artistic merit and their origin. Watch this film to learn a bit more about it.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/44891425" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="400"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Links:<br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.adnauseum.net/">www.adnauseum.net</a></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.handselecta.com/">www.handselecta.com</a></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.myfonts.com/fonts/cubanica/sailor-gothic/">http://www.myfonts.com/fonts/cubanica/sailor-gothic/</a></span><br />
<br />
Paul Riss<br />
Punk Rock Big Year</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-24636026859464974102013-03-20T08:15:00.001-04:002013-03-21T06:30:42.750-04:00Healing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZGSHk12_E5rarFqrx-hlfTej21D063upx9iVn1PDHq7j3oIDNkDgg5lRqGnWpA-6vqvwVv2V6XVlZKX7Ptziqht54BWN4R9giBSYiodKgclMDeljOHVBDJPHqYWDM3xm9y3aGA0OLL_c/s640/blogger-image--485176.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfZGSHk12_E5rarFqrx-hlfTej21D063upx9iVn1PDHq7j3oIDNkDgg5lRqGnWpA-6vqvwVv2V6XVlZKX7Ptziqht54BWN4R9giBSYiodKgclMDeljOHVBDJPHqYWDM3xm9y3aGA0OLL_c/s640/blogger-image--485176.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
A lot of people ask about what it's like to get tattoos. Usually they're wondering about the pain. That mostly what people ask about. Anyone who is heavily tattooed has answered the questions. Does it hurt? Where does it hurt most? How much does it hurt? Is it worth the pain? Always with the hurting questions. I guess everyone would answer their own way. Pain is relative I'd suppose. I had this conversation with my good friend Brad just yesterday as we were drinking cans of Guinness and shots of Jameisons. Not the tattoo pain thing but more the relative nature of experience. We wondered if food tasted differently to each person. Does a green bean taste the same for me as for him. Did the whiskey we were tasting taste the same to each of us? We agreed that it tasted great to us both. The same likely applies to pain. And for sure with tattoo pain.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYSbNmuen5mIFINgG_wnQsR4k1RhykSwZoCtiEFILzYE3mnUBD5jqbLegMprDqS3351Mnnu6he7RK-CTCJlUURL4yCY8TFilfqJ1NjuCuTmBc-PRALK1I2EIH-FmOK_5yiawlAsVIO99I/s1600/chestARM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXYSbNmuen5mIFINgG_wnQsR4k1RhykSwZoCtiEFILzYE3mnUBD5jqbLegMprDqS3351Mnnu6he7RK-CTCJlUURL4yCY8TFilfqJ1NjuCuTmBc-PRALK1I2EIH-FmOK_5yiawlAsVIO99I/s400/chestARM.jpg" width="338" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Random shot of some of my ink.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I have some light work done on one of my elbows. That was the worst pain (from tattoos) I've ever experienced. For me, generally anything on the bone sucks ass. Anywhere on large muscles (not that mine are overly large) but I mean the ones I use most, is the least painful. It was very interesting though to find out that the left side of my back did not hurt at all but the right side was very painful. Pete, my tattoo artist, said he notices that with lots of people. Anyway, the short answer is yes, it hurts. Lots at times, less at others but it is never really great feeling. But then, if you get lots of work done, it kind of is a good feeling. I'm conflicted.<br />
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When it comes to healing I usually don't do much other than a good clean wash several hours after my tattoo. I never put any cream on it. I just let it heal. Until now that is. I've been converted. I was recently given the opportunity to try a more natural product to aid in the healing of my last session. The product is called <a href="http://www.tinkture.co.nz/">TINKture</a>. It's a trade secret mix of essential oils and, well, stuff. It's a trade secret really so I can't know what's in it. That's my terrible description of what I'm sure amounts to a tonne of time learning and testing and re-formulating and re-testing on the part of the owner of <a href="http://www.tinkture.co.nz/">TINKture</a>, Gillian Parkinson.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyPEFC5GFOYWWe59Og4VJxAnCOc0SWLWUugNk423R6PDb-C2Og-EDcD5CS9lnG0I_e-yvC50mRs0M4qg3D4hQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I wanted to get a real idea of how well this stuff worked so I set up a little experiment. I got a session of work done and did my usual 'let it alone' technique but paid great attention to the healing process. I did about twenty Latin bird names. It was only mildly painful really during the first day or so of healing. Kind of a dull ache. About the fourth day, the itching started (a product of some scabbing I guess, but they call Pete Golden Gloves so really I get very little scabs if any with him.) But did it ever itch. The itching is the part of it all I hate most. You can NOT scratch. It can ruin your work. The rule is always slap it, don't itch it. It was so itchy one evening I had a co-worker slapping my back while we sat and ate dinner at a work function. Another time I sat watching cartoons with my kids while they both slapped the shit outa' my back. It eventually stopped but it took a while.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhBgiJU_W4l57oPw3ayEPoGx5wqwtODFrveg6lFHjuriy0stkK6KQGJwTgWmRXPKBeLouUUjE_FMXM8uDF_ZsBnjvyS30e-8-jMwvpTIY7k9fijhjuWmXx0zcbwe858v1OrbcZzLmLXkp/s1600/noTINKture.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhBgiJU_W4l57oPw3ayEPoGx5wqwtODFrveg6lFHjuriy0stkK6KQGJwTgWmRXPKBeLouUUjE_FMXM8uDF_ZsBnjvyS30e-8-jMwvpTIY7k9fijhjuWmXx0zcbwe858v1OrbcZzLmLXkp/s400/noTINKture.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The ones on the right were not treated with TINKture.</td></tr>
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Then, I got another session of about 23 Latin bird names. I applied the oil right after the tat was done, then, as instructed by the packaging, I applied a small amount often. Whenever I felt like I needed it, I put some on. It feels better on contact. Kind of a cooling sensation? Well, I'm pleased to say that I love this stuff. There was no itchy phase. The redness and swelling were very minor. Less than my back for sure. The thing I hate about creams and so on is that they get all gooey. They don't ever really sink into your skin. Yuk. But an oil like <a href="http://www.tinkture.co.nz/">TINKture</a> goes right into your skin. Your arm is dry to the touch right away. The sensation is kind of like rubbing a little olive oil into your skin. Your skin stays nice and moisturized but the stuff doesn't get on your clothes or bed sheets. Often after a fresh tat ,you'll get a reverse impression of it on your sheets. That never happened with <a href="http://www.tinkture.co.nz/">TINKture</a>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBzAb8p6GwHGuy5gvQpKn94thAolwC5ZqHF0t_7mulee5brX0b_PF32-RI4DfjqbavbJN9PN-ZcgCFaoZvBEIIjlHMJmDa9nSfUaUzJ3fP0gjUK5ZGP9hzKoshROAQxZMMqxUaMCd8Po3/s1600/Photo+on+2013-02-28+at+3.33+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBzAb8p6GwHGuy5gvQpKn94thAolwC5ZqHF0t_7mulee5brX0b_PF32-RI4DfjqbavbJN9PN-ZcgCFaoZvBEIIjlHMJmDa9nSfUaUzJ3fP0gjUK5ZGP9hzKoshROAQxZMMqxUaMCd8Po3/s400/Photo+on+2013-02-28+at+3.33+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">Right after the session.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSrkPI-Hz4niLUi0P3GCiMgjsJ9KCVxtK75AN9fL0vO4Kh7YmDyCQ40-PnRhDGbhsK4zilc42OmUKsoqUUzOC_7p4oCt9fJJ3364kVAp5HSJGA8pvyXvb7mzok7S2ZFuStkNuV_CKImkh/s1600/TINKture.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOSrkPI-Hz4niLUi0P3GCiMgjsJ9KCVxtK75AN9fL0vO4Kh7YmDyCQ40-PnRhDGbhsK4zilc42OmUKsoqUUzOC_7p4oCt9fJJ3364kVAp5HSJGA8pvyXvb7mzok7S2ZFuStkNuV_CKImkh/s400/TINKture.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Treated with <a href="http://www.tinkture.co.nz/">TINKture</a>. 2 hours later riding the subway home (instagramFiltered).</td></tr>
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So I say try the stuff if you get tattoos. I'm kind of hooked. My tat healed faster (about a week instead of 2ish) and I'm looking forward to this weeks session so I can start using it again. I just like having it on. I put some on this morning even though I didn't need it. It just smells great. In fact, Rachel has asked that I start wearing it daily. I'm not a dude that's ever worn any sort of scent other than stress (at work) or hard work (at home) or perhaps fear.<br />
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Since we are on the topic of healing, I must mention my lovey wife in this post because I've never really had any serious healing to do. But her, she gave birth to our twins via C section and has just had another major surgery. If you like honesty and laughter, read all about her procedure <a href="http://thestaylucky.blogspot.ca/2013/03/sunny-side-up-please.html">here</a> and how it's going afterward <a href="http://thestaylucky.blogspot.ca/2013/03/an-angel-and-unicorn.html">here</a>. She's one tough lady.<br />
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Punk Rock Big Year<br />
Paul Riss<br />
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Reference links.<br />
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<a href="http://www.tinkture.co.nz/">TINKture's site.</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/TINKture">TINKture's Facebook page.</a> <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-73052272846975386692013-01-30T10:02:00.001-05:002013-01-30T10:02:49.391-05:00A little latin at work.So I've finally been able to save a few bucks and get some more of these names inked. I promised a whole lot of people I'd do it and I was feeling a little like I was punking out. Not so much now. Besides the money, there's another thing that's hard to come by for me. Time. Ya, time. Everybody is busy I know but with work as crazy as it is, family stuff and now living in the country (read: commute time), it really makes it tough to find a few hours to sit and get tattooed. Then, I had this idea. I'm sitting at my desk at work a lot. All. Day. Long. What better place to get inked than there? I asked my bosses if that was going to be ok. Now if you asked to be able to get a tattoo at work, most bosses would likely look at you as if you had three heads. Not mine. They're so extremely supportive of this whole project. They said they'd be disappointed if I didn't get inked at work. So there you have it. Yesterday was my birthday. And my gift to this film and everyone following it is follow-through on my promise.<br />
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I sat at my desk and worked away while my buddy Pete sat behind me permanently listing the birds I saw in 2011 on my back. I loved his idea for the location of the tattoo yesterday. When we are done, there'll be two long columns of names down my back. The ones on the left are flush right and the ones on the right will be flush left, leaving my spine as the gutter between the two columns of type. This won't be enough room for all the names but it'll be about 60 of them. Then we will just move on to another body part not already covered in ink.<br />
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A lot of people have been asking me question of various types regarding the ink, the big year, the choice between common and Latin names. Instead of answering these questions randomly and not having any record of them, I was thinking of having a video/text FAQ on this blog. So please, ask me anything. Anything at all and I'll answer you while I'm getting tattooed and post it here for everyone. Share this notion with everyone you know. I'm happy to answer any questions you guys might have. Send your questions to punkrockbigyear AT gmail DOT com.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9grWJKsRKh3Lpx7bTMaLp3Ci95nskMB7aACNl733Xw1Rw83euVVUp_IyrUTdEExb-8EmwRnSuJAOkODqn1lTKPGvAjINDRZnMt-KHjMMNG490oC_HjD4Sts6Faa4nG5PG4tcBnYaapMUT/s1600/5c0dadda6a4211e280cd22000a9f18de_7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9grWJKsRKh3Lpx7bTMaLp3Ci95nskMB7aACNl733Xw1Rw83euVVUp_IyrUTdEExb-8EmwRnSuJAOkODqn1lTKPGvAjINDRZnMt-KHjMMNG490oC_HjD4Sts6Faa4nG5PG4tcBnYaapMUT/s400/5c0dadda6a4211e280cd22000a9f18de_7.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Instagrams by Rob Sturch (my writer).</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rv3AoAlVp1LTRDtfoxJ1aOzk9uBATgJ49JwDmlIcEyTpA7lOHRnHfIYBa4_uakcDz1BHmvNNTVq3loKQf61ZhPOJsXfyh9zIurNsIH8q6QkFQTK8LMOH6s0aiwbxk037GND7Y1BCta96/s640/blogger-image-126194948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rv3AoAlVp1LTRDtfoxJ1aOzk9uBATgJ49JwDmlIcEyTpA7lOHRnHfIYBa4_uakcDz1BHmvNNTVq3loKQf61ZhPOJsXfyh9zIurNsIH8q6QkFQTK8LMOH6s0aiwbxk037GND7Y1BCta96/s400/blogger-image-126194948.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Note:</b> For all you serious birders out there, I already know about the error. The way I see it, this project isn't just about names, it's about showing a younger/wider audience that birdwatching and birdwatchers aren't what they might have thought. Also, with 234 names, there's bound to be some errors.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-42411148049509868552013-01-23T10:44:00.001-05:002013-01-23T10:44:46.259-05:00Two lifers and a bank job
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<span class="s1">Last week was really off the charts. Work had sent me to the west for a week. Though I always miss my family very much it’s always nice to head to the land of western birds on someone else’s dime. Turned out things got a little crazy while i was there. Not only with work but with birds. Basically, it was akin to wining to lotteries back to back.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Bird one.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Brambling. An online friend, John Puschock, that handles the ABA rare bird alert Facebook page found out I’d be in Vancouver and told me about a Brambling that was right in the middle of South Vancouver. This I learned just prior to heading west so I was excited to get to see this bird. It was of course a lifer for me. I arrived Saturday evening, got settled in a hotel that quite frankly is way above my station. That’s how it goes when I travel for work. I sleep in building that normally would see me shot as I approach the front door. I had some dinner with a good friend that lives in Van. and went to bed as early as I could. With the time change I was asleep by 2am Toronto time. I woke at 4am Vancouver time and struggled to get more sleep. By 7 am there was no more fighting it. The combination of the time change and the excitement of seeing a lifer took over. I got up, ate fast and headed to the spot. After about ten minutes of wandering, I saw the bird. It was great. Showing very nicely even to the naked eye. A few more birders came along but more about them later.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagz43VuT3L8-yFgWdyZ_vHUlJXo5v11cADDEk5nmBhrbSnGGLdGB4pP7YpecqodS02lOzA5O9maeUvIOpkqgB-DHSdkXZYFmaL3ZEmULW0HwuAE7XmdXIWwW8fN6oAzR6L4v3DQD8pju1/s1600/brambling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhagz43VuT3L8-yFgWdyZ_vHUlJXo5v11cADDEk5nmBhrbSnGGLdGB4pP7YpecqodS02lOzA5O9maeUvIOpkqgB-DHSdkXZYFmaL3ZEmULW0HwuAE7XmdXIWwW8fN6oAzR6L4v3DQD8pju1/s400/brambling.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brambling by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/48975388@N07/8179869456/">Richard Towell</a>.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Bank robbery.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I was there to shoot a couple commercials for a client. I’ll post them as soon as I am allowed but I can say that we filmed a couple dudes doing a rather poor job of robbing a bank. That was fun as I’ve never robbed a bank before. Well, actually the robbing of the bank happens just prior to us finding our characters. The subsequent police chase is what we really shot. And man was it fun. We ripped around town with an SUV being chased by two cops. Right downtown Vancouver we were closing down streets and fish-tailing around corners, light blaring. No sirens but we will add that in later. Anyway it was fun and hopefully it’ll be funny to watch.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoNu6tSCibGxCyvxZ14hPEeCaUDeLO-Tw5YzAWgo_504ARRZOR0YH8AdfS676Djdj80ql2ZDQmr92shhelpmOSx6IxBcEipARMlavIcvjBNkJrnY0npmm528FOJb7-0DtGgiB1QI9Zqf8/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFoNu6tSCibGxCyvxZ14hPEeCaUDeLO-Tw5YzAWgo_504ARRZOR0YH8AdfS676Djdj80ql2ZDQmr92shhelpmOSx6IxBcEipARMlavIcvjBNkJrnY0npmm528FOJb7-0DtGgiB1QI9Zqf8/s400/photo+3.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rig to shoot from 24 floors up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXPn95xqM92mxWa8my2WSp5pSYSdnNqord1PZUmOoCCrZnQYn2txHSXNOyvkofv_ZKNfEtHQ__FP2dO4a41PnY6XJyYYq1bSzaTIgZl5jtjuFcBFvg9Ue_UUR7i6bxpOQ2ngaaunWN9c5/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlXPn95xqM92mxWa8my2WSp5pSYSdnNqord1PZUmOoCCrZnQYn2txHSXNOyvkofv_ZKNfEtHQ__FP2dO4a41PnY6XJyYYq1bSzaTIgZl5jtjuFcBFvg9Ue_UUR7i6bxpOQ2ngaaunWN9c5/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rig we attached to the car to rip about the city.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ePox9v0rsuOv1DAgBSP8WuKo12PQj0aQqfwUYN_gVD1vk8SoiPeoC095-679l_-ng9G2cA5L6t9Ygu9JB03xnAMvFUmPMkgR3FNFmGDClczfYNzc6K4I9X6vtoxN29KoRHLVBTkrJfrO/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ePox9v0rsuOv1DAgBSP8WuKo12PQj0aQqfwUYN_gVD1vk8SoiPeoC095-679l_-ng9G2cA5L6t9Ygu9JB03xnAMvFUmPMkgR3FNFmGDClczfYNzc6K4I9X6vtoxN29KoRHLVBTkrJfrO/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from atop the building. The railing was about halfway up my thigh.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Bird two.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">While I was in a production meeting, John sent me a message that I might need to take a long lunch that day. There was a possible Red-flanked Bluetail now showing in a park in Vancouver. I decided to wait until the next day and see if it got confirmed. By 10am the next morning, it was seen again and it’s ID was confirmed. SO, that day at lunch I was lucky enough to have a PA drive me out to the park. Upon arrival there were about 60 birders present. They had had the bird only moments before. Chances were good that I’d get this one too. We waited. Suddenly, it showed itself. With all the restraint I could possibly mustre, I gave my bins over to the non-birding PA that drove me to the park. She got the bird right away. I’m not saying she’ll be a birder but she made noises that only birders make when they see really rare shit. If she does indeed become more interested, her spark bird will be a RFBT. The feeling you got from your spark bird is a bit like that first hit of heroin. OK, not really but you do spend the rest of your waking hours dreaming of that same high again and it never gets to the same level as the first time. Like heroin. Either way, she will go many years before seeing another bird that’s even close to that rare. Unless she heads ten minutes down the road to the Brambling...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogzbYqQHfN6NTWwRYqniErFBhXyHRvS1tp3D7jAAyjbmLR9CbqUijJvpQ1YTgzl-PaeHHLqWHg0yRnlihhyphenhyphenlf-QpwFdb3lxl6F-7YJmow5gW-4RF8TqaEkpgSVojCmKHIRkAhxBU_jX5V/s1600/RFBL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogzbYqQHfN6NTWwRYqniErFBhXyHRvS1tp3D7jAAyjbmLR9CbqUijJvpQ1YTgzl-PaeHHLqWHg0yRnlihhyphenhyphenlf-QpwFdb3lxl6F-7YJmow5gW-4RF8TqaEkpgSVojCmKHIRkAhxBU_jX5V/s400/RFBL.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red-flanked Bluetail by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/davethebird/8113203226/">Langham Birder</a>.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Birders</span></div>
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<span class="s1">The other birders that showed up at the Brambling were a great and diverse group of dudes that were kind enough to let me populate that empty seat in their car and spend the day birding with them. We saw many species together and I feel like I made some new western friends over some western birds. I’ll let them identify themselves here if they see fit but meeting them made me see even more how diverse a group we really are. There was me, the punk loving Associate Creative Director, an Ophthalmologist, a graduate about to become a teacher and a dude that worked at the docks in Vancouver. We couldn’t be more different but so much the same too. We share that one thing birders all have; our addiction to seeing new birds.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-59147159455952274172012-12-08T23:44:00.000-05:002012-12-08T23:44:25.685-05:00Thankful
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<span class="s1">Giving thanks</span></div>
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<span class="s1">With these posts so infrequent nowadays, I hope you are still out there listening. I need to take some time to thank a few people. 73 of you to be exact. Well, that doesn't count the all the folks that couldn't help financially but did share the shit out of my funding link. But those 73 people together donated over $4600. That coupled with a few private donors/investors got us near our goal. And for that I say thanks.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">But there's more to be thankful for. Last week my entire family was sick as dogs. After a few days of it it just felt like we were living in that show the Walking Dead. Hiding out and looking as terrible as we all felt. I write this on the commuter train my first day back into the city. At least I'm nice and healthy and looking forward to working on more than cleaning up vomit from the cracks of 120 year-old pine floors. Not an easy task.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Another huge reason I'm thankful is that we have landed a dedicated editor for PRBY. He couldn't be more perfect for this film. He knows nothing about birding (yet) but, like me, is always very eager to dig in to a new subject and come out of it knowing more about a fascinating sub-culture. He has lots of tattoos, and he loves heavy music. In fact, we went and saw GWAR together last Saturday. His name is Kyle McNair and he is super talented. He works for a company I've done some of my best advertising work with; School Editing in Toronto.</span></div>
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<span class="s2"><a href="http://www.schoolediting.com/editors/kyle-mcnair/">http://www.schoolediting.com/editors/kyle-mcnair/</a></span></div>
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DevilDriver pit.</div>
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GWAR blood.</div>
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<span class="s1">About the only thing I want now is to go and see some friggin' birds. It's been a really long year with relatively few days spent birding. I promised Rach and DDB that they'd get the lion's share of my time in 2012. I hope next year, with the kids turning five, that there will be a bit more balance to the birding/non-birding time in 2013.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-46854274510262068252012-11-20T16:48:00.002-05:002012-11-20T16:48:31.470-05:00I'll stop begging soon, I promise.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="s1">Remember in 2011 when you'd be able to read a post about a twitch I did? Remember when I used to birdwatch with my kids? Remember when all I asked for was ten minutes of your time each week? Remember when I did my best to write some funny shit for you about what its like to attempt a big year with twin 3-year-olds and a busy career in advertising? Remember when I started to feel down about not getting enough birds and you guys made me feel better about it?</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Well, those days are gone. Now all you hear from me is, "Can I have 10 bucks? Or $10, 000 if you have it lying around? ", "Hey, tell your friends about me.", "Please introduce me to your friends so I can pat them down for a couple bucks." I post on your favourite Facebook sites, blogs, your pages even, constantly begging for a few dollars. And to top it off, you don't even know if you'll see anything at the end of it. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Re-read that paragraph. I'm basically the shittiest friend you've ever had. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this post so bare with me. This last week has been a real bugger for me. Work dumped a job on me that required lots of attention exactly on the 2 weeks I was supposed to meet my editor and start this process, effectively eating up all my time so I can't move on and start so you actually get something for your generous donations. Then, both my kids get the flu so neither my wife nor I sleep right for about 7 days.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">This kind of shit breaks a couple down. No sleep + puking kids + extra hours at work + a guy trying to make a film = parents that fight. We are pretty good though, Rachel and I. We get through stuff and really, this ain't even that bad, as terrible goes. But I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel. Please tell me there's a light out there where most people live. That place where you don't try and make a movie on your free time with your own cash (and cash you can get from complete strangers and friends). I sure hope that place is out there. The place where this film is done and I can stop begging you all for a few dollars every time we cross paths (virtually or otherwise). Because honestly, I'm sick of begging for money.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">I was a bit depressed when I started writing this but now, not so much. Why? Well, if I'm to be completely honest, it's because I wrote this on the GO Train and we just arrived in Toronto. Upon standing up to get off the train, I realized that my pants have been unzipped the entire morning so far. I wonder if it's related to the fact that nobody is sitting next to me. Sigh.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
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<span class="s1">P.S. - Can I have 10 dollars?</span><br />
<span class="s1"><a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY">http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY</a></span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-11605246727137482362012-11-13T08:55:00.001-05:002012-11-13T08:55:28.889-05:00PRBY poster<br />
PRBY poster that many of you will get as a perk for donating to the film.<br />
If you want it, head over here. <a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY">http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY</a><br />
Design by Russell Gibbs. Please share it around.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-13233921612710144742012-11-08T06:32:00.000-05:002012-11-08T06:32:05.017-05:00The TrailerIt's been a lot of work for a few great people but it's finally done. This makes the whole thing feel a bit more real. Please share this with everyone you know and attach a link to the funding page. There's still 16 days for you or someone you know to get involved.<br />
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<a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY">http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY</a><br />
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Punk Rock Big Year<br />
Paul RissUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-22958657535360652562012-11-01T14:03:00.000-04:002012-11-01T14:03:00.787-04:00indieGOGO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nLLx48g82RXDgMzJHBQe3GF4JJriL71GLWdsZT5gFeiZm_J_9_sgQXqfhYQyB2jsuzTkXPZfNBZ66Dk12eqMtr20OWpnBuJCVzD1vfELsIpgStbinxwytc4DeC_HH_-BHiZpXnu8vxZG/s1600/indieGOGO_mainIMAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nLLx48g82RXDgMzJHBQe3GF4JJriL71GLWdsZT5gFeiZm_J_9_sgQXqfhYQyB2jsuzTkXPZfNBZ66Dk12eqMtr20OWpnBuJCVzD1vfELsIpgStbinxwytc4DeC_HH_-BHiZpXnu8vxZG/s320/indieGOGO_mainIMAGE.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Check out the indieGOGO campaign to raise funds for the post-production of the Punk Rock Big Year documentary. Share this link with everyone please. The perks are amazing.<br />
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http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY<br />
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There's only 23 days left to donate and get some of those awesome perks.<br />
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Paul Riss<br />
Punk Rock Big YearUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-3668086426079557682012-10-09T17:41:00.001-04:002012-10-22T21:23:42.882-04:00It's been a while. Here's why.It has been a while since my last posting. I've been working on this with my kick-ass producer MP!<br />
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<a href="http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY">http://www.indiegogo.com/PRBY</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-91380540315724980832012-09-12T13:43:00.000-04:002012-09-12T13:43:31.227-04:00Meat and Music
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<span class="s1">Summer is coming to an end. The year of no birding is closing. I hope to get out a bit more in 2013. The kids will be a bit older next year. Maybe they'll even want to go birding with me. Or at least one of them. I promised Rachel after last years Big Year I'd spend all my free time with the family. But next year? Family? What family? I'm joking dear.</span></div>
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This weekend was fair weekend in Orono. It's kind of a big deal where we live. Saturday was a bit of a bust what with all the rain. It was pretty much the saddest Orono fall fair parade I've ever seen. But that wasn't the point of my day. Mine started just before 5 am. Not for birds this time though, for meat. We were having some folks over for dinner and I was smoking pork. Ten pounds of pork shoulder bone in takes pretty much a whole day to cook. As it was cooking from 5am still took till 7pm to get up to temperature. As my buddy Shane says, "It ain't time, it's temp."</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Why?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The shittiest float of the parade.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Helicopter rides.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">G in her pink truck.</td></tr>
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People arrived about 6, food started about 7. And since most of my friends are musicians, so did the music start. And it didn't really stop until everyone left about midnight. The floors in the house were stomped, tromped and hammered on as if it were a live show at a good pub. It really doesn't get better than good friends, good music and good food. The kids were loving it, dancing like fools until some of them passed out on the floor. Here's a couple of videos of how it went. We plan on this being a monthly thing. Kind of like a Sunday dinner that we all remember from when we were kids but a whole lot louder.</div>
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Punk Rock Big Year</div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-82052406022209280732012-09-01T11:58:00.001-04:002012-09-01T12:02:12.021-04:00Be careful what you ask for.Note. This is a crazy long post but try and stick with it. It really captures the type of day I had...<br />
All Thick-billed Kingbird images were taken by and belong to <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/10821818@N07/7887892298/in/photostream">David Beadle</a>; a very good birder here in Ontario.<br />
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I haven't written anything in a while. That's obvious to you that might be regular readers. Why? I guess you could say my life has been less than exciting the last month or so. It's not been bad, just nothing standing out that I had to write about. We've had some great success in our vegetable garden. There's been some really nice birds around the yard. There's been work. That last one is the one that has kind of crushed me lately. But hey, I've been at it for years and understand it ain't all roses. Some cool projects have just begun and things at work are starting to be more fun. Suffice to say, there's been little to write about. Sitting on the deck drinking our morning bird-friendly <a href="http://birdsandbeans.ca/">Birds and Beans</a> coffee, I remarked to Rachel that I had not written a blog post in a while and wished something interesting might happen so I could have some subject matter. Well, as the title of this post exclaims, be careful what you wish for.<br />
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Wednesday, August 29th, 2012 started out as normal as any other day that promised not to inspire a blog post. I got up, showered, drank some coffee and hung with my kids until I had to leave for work. I hop in my truck, leave, get to the train station and for some stupid reason, I miss my train by about 3 seconds. I actually stood a foot from the door as it closed and I watched it pull away. The next one was just arriving. It's only a 25 minute difference to my arrival time so not the biggest deal as I don't have any 9:30 am meetings. I sit on the train. I turn on my iPhone and check email. Nothing special. For reasons I can't explain, I open the ONTbirds app to check for any cool sightings. Not that it's going to matter, I'm on the train to go to work.</div>
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As the sightings come in, there's the usual stuff for this time of year. Then, there's a post by Mark Ansell on behalf of Bill Gilmour and Doug McRae. It says, and I quote,</div>
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"Reporting for Bill Gilmour and Doug McRae. Tonight at 7:10 a Thick-billed Kingbird is being seen just east of the bridge at the Calf Pasture just where the first cottage begins on along Bayshore Drive.</div>
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<span class="s1"> </span>Mark"</div>
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This of course catches my interest. To be completely honest, at first I'm not sure exactly how rare this is. I open my Sibley App. "Holy F**k,!" I think about work, the meetings I have scheduled (there are a few) and all the expectations for me that day. Then, I promptly step off the train and head back to my truck. As I walk to my truck, I call my boss' cell phone. The conversation goes like this:</div>
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Hello?</div>
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Hey Todd.</div>
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Hey, everything OK (it's quite early after all).</div>
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Ya, but I can't come to work today.</div>
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(longish pause) What species is it?</div>
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Thick-billed Kingbird.</div>
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How rare?</div>
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Rarest I will have seen for Ontario, ever. Only been in Canada one other time just about the same year I was born, and I totally dipped on that one in '72 because it was in BC and I was only 1yr-old (my boss knows some of our lingo).</div>
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See you Thursday?</div>
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For sure, and I'm reachable all day on my phone and email.</div>
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Good luck.</div>
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Thanks.</div>
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(another pause) Paul.</div>
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Yes?</div>
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You're a nerd.</div>
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Yep.</div>
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I speed home to grab my bins and scope and realize the truck is nearly out of gas. Not wanting to take the time to stop, I fire up the Duster and take off. However fast 80 miles is in kilometers, that's how fast I drove there. I arrived and saw the bird from the car. Thick-billed Kingbird is a great Duster list bird indeed. I park a little ways away from the other cars as when I start up to leave I don't want to spook the bird. The Duster isn't super quiet and to be known as the dick that scared this bird away after seeing it might mean I'd have to hand in my bird-nerd glasses (bins). The bird was awesome, showing very well, hawking for big fat bugs, using that bill just as it was intended. Most birders I knew were there. Josh, Mark, Jeremy and so many others. Even a crew of three people I'd assume to be about 17-19 showed up. That was nice to see as they were just as eager as the veterans on hand to tick this thing. I stayed around and watched it for a couple hours and then left for home.</div>
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On the way home, the stereo in the Duster made a strange sound. It wasn't on, nor was the face of the deck even attached. That seems odd but not crazy as the car was indeed running so electrical current was moving around normally. Remember this. It's significant.</div>
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I went home, did a few work related things and then cleaned up some shit in the yard. It was about dinner time when my aunt suggested we all go to meet my mom and dad at a nearby fish restaurant. Great idea, top off the Duster driven twitch with a Grouper filet. We eat and it's good. Then my phone rings. It's a friend that says he has an injured Northern Goshawk. My first thought is how the hell did he get it into a box without severe injury to himself, being that I would imagine they are rather ornery birds. He's on- route to my house and thought I was a good person to call. We go home only to discover its actually an Osprey. Wow, this is crazy. As I'm outside calling around to find someone we notice a light flickering inside the Duster. Odd for sure as the keys are in my pocket and it ain't firefly season anymore so that's definitely not a firefly trapped in the car. I wander over to the passenger door and see a fire burning in there. Ya, you read that right, a fire burning inside my 1974 Duster.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Hot ride. Like, on fire kind of hot.</td></tr>
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I tell Rachel and she does the equivalent to Kermit the frog, all arms wailing in the air. I ask for sand which despite her flailing she promptly and amazingly brings me without spilling an ounce. I ask for a wet towel too. I send my dad, who happens to wander by at that exact moment, to grab me my drill and a Phillips head bit. I throw sand onto the fire, it almost goes out but not quite. Rachel is back with the wet towel, I blow out the rest of the fire and throw the towel on it. Its out now for sure. I lift the towel, stand up and we all look amazed at what just happened. Colin quietly says, in Colin's way, "It's burning again." I throw the towel on it and Rachel seems to magically produce another bucket of dirt from behind her back but it's out again. I use the drill to remove the deck and cut the wires.</div>
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The phone is ringing inside. It's someone Colin called about the Osprey. We now have a place to take it. I decide I'm going to take the car, yes the car that was just on fire, to my mechanics place and unhook the battery and leave it in their parking lot not near anything in case it burns to charred dust(er) in the night. It does not. The fire started because of bad wiring from the stereo. Not the original stereo which is still in the dashboard but an aftermarket Blaupunkt deck that was mounted under the glovebox when I bought the car. The funny part is that I have not really even used that stereo. It's the only one hooked up but, and I know I sound like an eight year old kid right now, it's a muscle car. It sound so cool that I never listen to music when I drive it. I like to listen to the powerful engine make its powerful noise. It's the kind of noise mostly only boys know how to make with their mouth from playing cars at a young age. It's super male and childish but I don't care, if you've ever driven in it, it sounds cool. Sorry, it just does. It's not great on gas and that's not the best for our planet but think about it this way; I don't drive it very often and when I bought it, I kind of considered it recycling. That car had been 'recycled' five times. Zero carbon foot print on its construction vs. buying five new cars. And did I mention it sounds really cool.<br />
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Anyway, it's at the mechanics now and I'll get the wiring fixed so it doesn't happen again. The Osprey is doing well and hopefully it's going to get released someday pretty soon. This post is sorely missing something cute like a picture of my kids so here's the fix for that. This is a joey that was at the vet sleeping in a home-made pouch until it is older. It's mom had passed away at a zoo of old age and the vet was keeping this one alive and well by looking after it personally. So darn cute was the noise it made.<br />
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So, how's that for a blog post? I leave you with this. If that Thick-billed Kingbird had not arrived the night before in Presqu' ile Park, I'd have never been home early enough to go to The Fisherman for dinner and wouldn't have been home when Colin called about finding an injured Osprey and I wouldn't have been standing next to my car (where I get a better cell signal than in my home) when it started ablaze. It was not that cars day to die. Had none of that happened, I may have lost my muscle car and possibly my house had the wind blown the fire two feet to the tree that would ultimately connect the fire to my home. So that Mega rare bird saved my house and car. Fancy that.</div>
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Punk Rock Big Year</div>
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Paul Riss</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-75024272095985991232012-07-27T20:37:00.000-04:002012-07-27T20:37:27.503-04:00Sandhill Cranes never looked so good.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The highway north-west of Sudbury.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">It was holiday time this past week. The family and I headed up to Rachel's parents place on Manitoulin Island. There's always lots of birds there and her dad Tim is a bird lover so he has nest boxes and feeders set up. He gets lots in his yard. Surrounding the garden we get all our vegetables from are nesting Eastern Bluebirds in boxes he built. There are tonnes of American Redstarts, Common Yellowthroats, Chipping Sparrows and so many more. I had really nice views of a pair of Pileated Woodpeckers from the deck of the hunt camp off in the woods the other side of the 100 acres Wednesday morning.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Swing bridge at Little Current.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">The best sightings were some Sandhill Cranes. They are always on the island when we go there. Mostly with young but not this pair. There was nothing special about these two birds other than their usual awesomeness. The big thing was that Rach was getting some much needed afternoon shut-eye and I was birding with the twins. This time was different. They are 4 and a half now and though that doesn't seem so much older than four. When your talking about physical dexterity and binocular use specifically, 4 vs. 4.5 is the difference between fumbling idiot and normal human.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdBWg1kYAm_FKkWZCkls3qooyGIy7vvO7LnfviB9GI_tlSDZXpYgB6bcEXHGRsklFm_ZA9lUHt5FSOOmGVZ4qCsk0lu3tvvdO4kkKnj7mOow2z3UMYU0ZpsUSDnD-dLb1W1qxdDPU4Ba9/s1600/IMG_1912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdBWg1kYAm_FKkWZCkls3qooyGIy7vvO7LnfviB9GI_tlSDZXpYgB6bcEXHGRsklFm_ZA9lUHt5FSOOmGVZ4qCsk0lu3tvvdO4kkKnj7mOow2z3UMYU0ZpsUSDnD-dLb1W1qxdDPU4Ba9/s400/IMG_1912.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Rainbow Trout I caught.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PpssywSE0lsTiQFfBwEMelfqjvPzc81Xgyk4vIZTNpAKpVUingheY43ivCdr7xwVr0xXHjdZmymdpvs3ogKzPRLeCivsqoqJb49HC7gdImP5avV9oSj8OugWfBE0vTQSz6gHiP40SPWm/s1600/IMG_1893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PpssywSE0lsTiQFfBwEMelfqjvPzc81Xgyk4vIZTNpAKpVUingheY43ivCdr7xwVr0xXHjdZmymdpvs3ogKzPRLeCivsqoqJb49HC7gdImP5avV9oSj8OugWfBE0vTQSz6gHiP40SPWm/s400/IMG_1893.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">
</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">With their new found ability to locate birds with bins, came a renewed interest, at least for Shep, in birds. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I was super excited when I had him look through and said, "See the big hay stack? (Yes.) Ok, move down until you see the green grass. (I see it.) Now move left just a bit. It was beyond cool when he screamed, "I see it!" His excitement was too genuine to be shitting me, plus he's 4.5 yrs. old and isn't a great bullshitter yet.</span></div>
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<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxfy7DwDIjyvM8rk9iokhKxDdN1k34hxQ8b-3wOPv5VSv5_yAr8pxuKuelCdI7Ge4tsqRIxNfST296Z1cBbP1lcnsU6ZB9iEzMurrFl-tIJuhVHFXdATHJZyUI9tjHEau8XndYY7Oiw23/s1600/IMG_1903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxfy7DwDIjyvM8rk9iokhKxDdN1k34hxQ8b-3wOPv5VSv5_yAr8pxuKuelCdI7Ge4tsqRIxNfST296Z1cBbP1lcnsU6ZB9iEzMurrFl-tIJuhVHFXdATHJZyUI9tjHEau8XndYY7Oiw23/s400/IMG_1903.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Georgia spots the Cranes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="s1">
</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Then I said, "Ok, tell me what colours you see."</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"Red... and brown."</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"What's red?" I asked.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"On his head." replied Shep.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"And it's body?", I questioned.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"Brown?" he said, unsure.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Then the coolest question of all. "What is it dad?"</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">"Well, let's remember what it looked like and we can look on my phone." I said.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNX3GYZeNQ1z9G-PZqyhXHWVcXiuwRJsJFi8cfWt8yB-gFg1atj4WOALG0PZ9oi5UDPD9QrujhDf8DX-eIMqBqwOod6_UOisRSwW7jvJh1SbmoHdp67t0kYli3YrguBuSGAgw6KH5N-lq/s1600/IMG_1902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVNX3GYZeNQ1z9G-PZqyhXHWVcXiuwRJsJFi8cfWt8yB-gFg1atj4WOALG0PZ9oi5UDPD9QrujhDf8DX-eIMqBqwOod6_UOisRSwW7jvJh1SbmoHdp67t0kYli3YrguBuSGAgw6KH5N-lq/s400/IMG_1902.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Shep gets them too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">
</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">We had decided it was a Sandhill Crane. Later that evening, we drew a picture of it together. For shits and giggles we added the bluebirds we had been seeing and he also wanted to add the yellow one that flew past. American Goldfinch was what our field-guide told us. The next morning, Georgia drew a crane too.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhba48IHEGwRIxIxunRE2egpkFL0K1C-3lZjDnFReVPgjojpUUUo9fI6AHSkhGGx511Nh3s7tBzWFhSRn0__0uAb7dcbWan64y8pAnjoGe3X-pHGE9IJABbim8tHp1Am_Y5hW0kfRUqc6dE/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhba48IHEGwRIxIxunRE2egpkFL0K1C-3lZjDnFReVPgjojpUUUo9fI6AHSkhGGx511Nh3s7tBzWFhSRn0__0uAb7dcbWan64y8pAnjoGe3X-pHGE9IJABbim8tHp1Am_Y5hW0kfRUqc6dE/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Shep's Sandhill Crane with blue lightening bolt.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="p1">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgn7JAQbwjmqS1udBv15K1rlVa4gjfq2fhKvmgmYlfFUiTpWPfJVxpCpq7Yt4FQ5e7u2f4XOE_baWhyphenhyphenP0iJl7H7z8awbqQygdBn3YVZLbe7B9uKu_r0zBCjfyHXr7Uc9yQKYlRRnq930k/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEgn7JAQbwjmqS1udBv15K1rlVa4gjfq2fhKvmgmYlfFUiTpWPfJVxpCpq7Yt4FQ5e7u2f4XOE_baWhyphenhyphenP0iJl7H7z8awbqQygdBn3YVZLbe7B9uKu_r0zBCjfyHXr7Uc9yQKYlRRnq930k/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Georgia's Sandhill Crane with flowers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="s1">
</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">So awesome.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Paul Riss </span></div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-7031893325693994082012-07-16T11:46:00.000-04:002012-07-16T11:46:44.278-04:00An hour, 15 common species, a memory that lasts forever.I'll be brief. And I'll try not to cry.<br />
<br />
Sunday was a great day this weekend. Why? I went birding, but I didn't just go birding. I went birding with my dad. We don't get so much time to do that anymore. I'm pretty busy, he's pretty busy and there's just less time to do that. The kids and Rachel went to a friends birthday party. I needed to run some errands and decided a one hour walk at a nearby spot would be nice. I texted my dad and he said, "Sure, let's go."<br />
<br />
We went to a place nearby that has some fields, forest and also a pretty big pond. We figured it'd have the most diverse stuff nearby. I don't care what we saw, it was in the going not in the finding. We found some good birds. We had some nice Common Yellowthroats, three Caspian Terns (one was banded and I'd guess that was a loud affair), Great Blue Herons, Cedar Waxwings, American Goldfinches, Song, Chipping and Grasshopper Sparrows, one flycatcher that never vocalized so I can't say what it was and several other species.<br />
<br />
Probably most memorable for me were a pair of Belted Kingfishers just sitting on a leafless branch. They seemed to be doing exactly what we were. Just spending quality time together. It was hot and I guess they got their fill of fish before the heat clamped on full boar. There were a few reeds leaning to and fro in the slightest breeze between us and them. We watched them for a long time and dad remarked that this sure would make a nice photo. I agreed, but I wasn't talking about the birds.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1eMM-jQ_30r0lTWmewOreZ_1fejqXjfWsz-mQbHM5ouRzsRn2BO_kEFHJ9NUAhCGUFNucBr2w-FXcNAIFIZIZdd11_tVYNst4J48glHs20AuGcFYT9dQt8j-VXHCBwkJhsqGvvooI78o/s1600/IMG_0288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ1eMM-jQ_30r0lTWmewOreZ_1fejqXjfWsz-mQbHM5ouRzsRn2BO_kEFHJ9NUAhCGUFNucBr2w-FXcNAIFIZIZdd11_tVYNst4J48glHs20AuGcFYT9dQt8j-VXHCBwkJhsqGvvooI78o/s400/IMG_0288.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Dad and I out birding last fall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwYUlFwC_1NR-A_5bPXLUx77w2iidHnb8iihvUmO6Ih0iRb1m5r86GGkEBZrSNb9PluRilO-K2o4oI56Fj4L9nezu9UkbN2DUyGrTegJwWT6NIZPnwGuOuhXxtXCKQ0N6bdWpY0kx8_O9/s1600/DSC_0145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwYUlFwC_1NR-A_5bPXLUx77w2iidHnb8iihvUmO6Ih0iRb1m5r86GGkEBZrSNb9PluRilO-K2o4oI56Fj4L9nezu9UkbN2DUyGrTegJwWT6NIZPnwGuOuhXxtXCKQ0N6bdWpY0kx8_O9/s400/DSC_0145.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Dad and I. Not birding.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
Punk Rock Big Year<br />
Paul RissUnknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-55978574325071000162012-07-13T14:54:00.000-04:002012-07-13T14:54:53.298-04:00Shep gets fixed.This was
a tough Monday. Shep has been sick since December and we finally got a chance
to get his shit fixed up. This is a very routine thing and really not anything
to worry about but for Rachel and I it was it was hard because Shep would be
put under general anesthetic for the first time. Shit I'm 41 and have never
been put under. I don't even have a reference point for it. Not to mention how a
4-year old might feel about it.<br />
<div class="Body1">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body1">
<br /></div>
<div class="Body1">
He was
plenty excited to get his 'nose fixed' as we called it for the last while.
Clearly he had no idea what was to be involved in it. The other day he was
playing the game Operation. He pulled plastic bones out of the body over and
over. Let's be honest. His dexterity level at four makes him particularly
shitty at the game. He closed the box and asked, "What does this say?"
pointing to the games name "Operation.", I said. He promptly freaked
out screaming over and over, "Don't take my bones!"<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKEUZPGtB4to1n8HhUTquyGL4n3GpDsOW70lMWni8PjKBxls3c6oYRdSdtdS-MUcOs7_PdgOvKxKQluVvaHXxI7eqOK9A_jtlUj0UhBJaQhfQPD_yZ_t58fnqu9wMriNvkXlRRjFLxrKB/s1600/IMG_1857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKEUZPGtB4to1n8HhUTquyGL4n3GpDsOW70lMWni8PjKBxls3c6oYRdSdtdS-MUcOs7_PdgOvKxKQluVvaHXxI7eqOK9A_jtlUj0UhBJaQhfQPD_yZ_t58fnqu9wMriNvkXlRRjFLxrKB/s400/IMG_1857.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Pre-op. Excited! Excited! (Anybody get that reference?)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body1">
<span id="goog_1990738924"></span><span id="goog_1990738925"></span></div>
<div class="Body1">
After
calming him down and promising they wouldn't be doing to him what he'd been
playing for the last twenty minutes, we moved on to something else. I was a
good dad and never told him that in fact they'd drug him, shove a tube down his
throat to keep him breathing and then reach into his mouth, around and up into
the back of his nose, scrape off his adenoids, flush them out his nostrils and
then burn the wounds to stop the blood flow. Good dad.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body1">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOx2IgX2Qd61gHANLcWvtQ_CkjAC9KJ6pHAb83hlhKNQFVNFzx5iCFeCXgtPBPaKBBa5b9OJU-yykznmolNvlLH3mDf-8Vs05MLIXMKh_sdwQyh4zyopuamDa-0ly_uHv6pnu6YZKcyts/s1600/IMG_1858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiOx2IgX2Qd61gHANLcWvtQ_CkjAC9KJ6pHAb83hlhKNQFVNFzx5iCFeCXgtPBPaKBBa5b9OJU-yykznmolNvlLH3mDf-8Vs05MLIXMKh_sdwQyh4zyopuamDa-0ly_uHv6pnu6YZKcyts/s400/IMG_1858.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Still pre-op. Getting closer and what looks like more nervous.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="Body1">
The
operation was a success as they probably all are for this procedure and took
maybe fifteen minutes. It was the 'coming to' that really threw him off. I was
put in a rocking chair and told to wait a moment. A second later I heard him
screaming like a madman. It was pretty nuts really. They brought him over on a
stretcher. His body looked so small on it. He was just coming out of the anesthetic
and was completely disoriented. His eyes were slow reacting to seeing me. Not
sure he even did see me. He looked around slowly but somehow furiously. I held
him and tried to comfort him. He was losing his shit and I was just singing a
song Rach and I always sing him when he's very upset. In a few moments he was able
to focus and he clung onto me like a scared monkey in a NatGeo documentary. I
felt like a real dad just then; my son needing me so completely. It's usually mom.
But today it was my turn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body1">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfHJpXNJDnQDysTA79thl2El8NWZWhSF2T0AXT3tkCIFlFZ1t7Euy93YYjt0VdvYSSyHGbL8zB9OK-kFqkHzudkq4AO56wMT25GcRKqt6fHUamdX2QAAvCvTTAlolAzWUyxTOvsec7W-e/s1600/IMG_1859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyfHJpXNJDnQDysTA79thl2El8NWZWhSF2T0AXT3tkCIFlFZ1t7Euy93YYjt0VdvYSSyHGbL8zB9OK-kFqkHzudkq4AO56wMT25GcRKqt6fHUamdX2QAAvCvTTAlolAzWUyxTOvsec7W-e/s400/IMG_1859.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Post-op. Not as happy. So vulnerable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="Body1">
We spent
another three hours in recovery just trying to get him to drink juice and eat a
popsicle. Instead, he slept. Then we went home and Rach had to pop out. She took Georgia so it was
just me and Shep again. We watched some X-Men and cuddled on the couch. I really felt
a lot of love for him. His dependency was really a great feeling. It hasn't
been like that since he was an infant. They are getting so independent. But the
love I felt was really very intense. And I think that we don't always feel that
way for a reason. If we always felt that open-raw-nerve-crazy-in-love feeling all
the time, I think we'd die from over exposure to such a powerful feeling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Body1">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JGpJyPLCjWS2wW4v26kLc5xuLs-KB5Vp3tykmzl9BM3T3IZpqb5xAjxjiYRKUQsrqKXWVAmf9yyKy-63LbfMyQtPKPTDPTOM6IBnUk2AdbXnNXiHN67G7qZxBce0yhdScMD_XS9W86iO/s1600/IMG_1860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JGpJyPLCjWS2wW4v26kLc5xuLs-KB5Vp3tykmzl9BM3T3IZpqb5xAjxjiYRKUQsrqKXWVAmf9yyKy-63LbfMyQtPKPTDPTOM6IBnUk2AdbXnNXiHN67G7qZxBce0yhdScMD_XS9W86iO/s400/IMG_1860.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sleeping off the pain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9InjaW2pWXM9l79bZm09XysqijitzB5LlBAi6BNSL_2w5f6gGRjPyftA6TpL-IoGUphdIjnjPxn6wiKWTQM_xAAOVdcZ4OeuQihBDWoRXLXh2MH4mCe79TbqoBvFHwcTWxvIHf1GcbDh/s1600/IMG_1861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9InjaW2pWXM9l79bZm09XysqijitzB5LlBAi6BNSL_2w5f6gGRjPyftA6TpL-IoGUphdIjnjPxn6wiKWTQM_xAAOVdcZ4OeuQihBDWoRXLXh2MH4mCe79TbqoBvFHwcTWxvIHf1GcbDh/s400/IMG_1861.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Still asleep an hour later. This picture destroys me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="Body1">
Punk Rock
Big Year<o:p></o:p></div>
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Paul Riss <span style="color: windowtext; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-11314650440472171802012-07-05T14:25:00.001-04:002012-07-05T14:26:25.518-04:00Is this even a birding blog anymore?It’s easy to see how the year after a birding big year might play out. For some, you’d do just about the same thing as the year before. Chase rare birds you need for your Ontario list, go birding in all your regular spots every weekend and take a few trips to super hot spots during migration. But if you deserted your family and all your major responsibilities for a measly 234 birds like I did, you don’t do any of those things the following year. Instead you do what you didn’t the previous year. You work hard at your job, you spend as much time with the family as you can and you do almost all of your birding by ear in the back yard (or wherever you happen to be). Here’s some of the shit I have done this year that isn't birding (but really, I was birding by ear every moment of these things too).<br />
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<b>Expanded my vegetable garden:</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-C1N0nPEYgjhx76td2DDOcoq1NYwwUjfQzkoZCS6EJnQQ3MmZu_5nPCyRzaHeM8rtSdDHrfbDFdxz-GqiW3DrfecnOrmPS6bDtDuGS9BISnjRUMEEW5lB7WQ_hSCIWo2ngC8Fg8m_WXjs/s1600/IMG_1696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-C1N0nPEYgjhx76td2DDOcoq1NYwwUjfQzkoZCS6EJnQQ3MmZu_5nPCyRzaHeM8rtSdDHrfbDFdxz-GqiW3DrfecnOrmPS6bDtDuGS9BISnjRUMEEW5lB7WQ_hSCIWo2ngC8Fg8m_WXjs/s400/IMG_1696.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Kid's sandbox so they can play nearby while I tend the garden.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFmyV4vxKv9DdiBzP7lpUJfma4I1DRe44uNQ3mhCf79V9XJFjBEdQVSTRfqpnKPFvqE6IXqAfJZMd3ibauMOX0qAAopCx4az6sHlsjV0ZOPJlHHgre5lrdNklXrCnQcQiNFS5kTlv_jo0/s1600/IMG_1716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFmyV4vxKv9DdiBzP7lpUJfma4I1DRe44uNQ3mhCf79V9XJFjBEdQVSTRfqpnKPFvqE6IXqAfJZMd3ibauMOX0qAAopCx4az6sHlsjV0ZOPJlHHgre5lrdNklXrCnQcQiNFS5kTlv_jo0/s400/IMG_1716.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The two expansions for this year.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The garden.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Our Broccoli.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-3zkiz3v9AbyMnlzIQuOJS2NsWNX78jsTNM2n-LfnmvdIQKycW19Ahryidj8Es7msmp7hfwITuZgNJdz5WyAJ7-69ELMG2eS8dZ5ynGewddZzrT3mYmV_VeQQmNarT3SZb53wa5l7okM/s1600/IMG_1841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv-3zkiz3v9AbyMnlzIQuOJS2NsWNX78jsTNM2n-LfnmvdIQKycW19Ahryidj8Es7msmp7hfwITuZgNJdz5WyAJ7-69ELMG2eS8dZ5ynGewddZzrT3mYmV_VeQQmNarT3SZb53wa5l7okM/s400/IMG_1841.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Shep watering his beans after soccer practice.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><b>Built a deck:</b></span><span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Bradleyboy scraping things level.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8x14kGHcFCUsnCNQwIyG5lddeTsH2KRD6cFlEiCDt7uBMngJK1q6I9PHcWLzoAsCQkwOWK7oKIYA6obKDUfo29dCQvqbi2EaDTx5uzQAVhhiaJPdDzR1ranD05obWId-i4ycNzrM8nny/s1600/IMG_1786.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8x14kGHcFCUsnCNQwIyG5lddeTsH2KRD6cFlEiCDt7uBMngJK1q6I9PHcWLzoAsCQkwOWK7oKIYA6obKDUfo29dCQvqbi2EaDTx5uzQAVhhiaJPdDzR1ranD05obWId-i4ycNzrM8nny/s400/IMG_1786.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">levelled.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUc9tpQojezHpg6k-sfRg3F535-feCsO7VOsUfliar_3XNBS6s0S9w_WXSxFqnN-8QSnz-17asL_BKAA5z3yR3fwqJwVdSwRmIQC2mFp94eSzYyc_wID9kFwBZjefD8DYDOOv7yAawU7No/s1600/IMG_1787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUc9tpQojezHpg6k-sfRg3F535-feCsO7VOsUfliar_3XNBS6s0S9w_WXSxFqnN-8QSnz-17asL_BKAA5z3yR3fwqJwVdSwRmIQC2mFp94eSzYyc_wID9kFwBZjefD8DYDOOv7yAawU7No/s400/IMG_1787.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Raking 10 yards of limestone makes for sore stomach muscles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyp9Dsqpls3hLJhOclSHcBMos-BqfZ_vHqt9P3wgQNQHgIdF5sWSNrrEj0odd_IEJ9cwL9gsXii88cuflo0lQEZEFTYT5XmzPRDfMP5o146aBKU3967JLcYwb8sahbZ98j22j6DUs160a/s1600/IMG_1788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjyp9Dsqpls3hLJhOclSHcBMos-BqfZ_vHqt9P3wgQNQHgIdF5sWSNrrEj0odd_IEJ9cwL9gsXii88cuflo0lQEZEFTYT5XmzPRDfMP5o146aBKU3967JLcYwb8sahbZ98j22j6DUs160a/s400/IMG_1788.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Limestone levelled (Duster in the background).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVquD7U9or_xBdbnpEWbVaB5AyD6YXLt688Jj4aTyGFj94yCQCE_JRR3GjKyh9TF3UiJygZs9tpT2-Lze6RxYKJ6cDTciz-xI2RjLBAKxTm-V0I7LullWnaKoAobQZiqvr6WTjldnfk_qo/s1600/IMG_1791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVquD7U9or_xBdbnpEWbVaB5AyD6YXLt688Jj4aTyGFj94yCQCE_JRR3GjKyh9TF3UiJygZs9tpT2-Lze6RxYKJ6cDTciz-xI2RjLBAKxTm-V0I7LullWnaKoAobQZiqvr6WTjldnfk_qo/s400/IMG_1791.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Day one of the build (Yes, Shep has pants on in the window).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxS3qOE_CIONZQWC7hE-iQFcWrLZbeitlC7lkgxyz8k_Jr2cXEFeG3kbju0Il9IzXffgagc5d8juVHPNdvwOMBpsIs_8Rd0V_-JtNpWTWstyyPHX-NSjgt0_U6qtcH7wfd1WpX3kEn7rT/s1600/IMG_1793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxS3qOE_CIONZQWC7hE-iQFcWrLZbeitlC7lkgxyz8k_Jr2cXEFeG3kbju0Il9IzXffgagc5d8juVHPNdvwOMBpsIs_8Rd0V_-JtNpWTWstyyPHX-NSjgt0_U6qtcH7wfd1WpX3kEn7rT/s400/IMG_1793.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Day two of the build (stairs are a real pain in the ass to make).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgevZ8V4jfbGBaSQbrM1DfwP5xQY-PFooiUT6t54jl6mKCol7DCGVQ8d-6COduIcLWxT9R-8T19TgpdQIZ-Q2wMid8YpQKGhZbxhrAmJHxTU83UFetEfQy2bchjnIP695eTRkrQxiekNN/s1600/IMG_1794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgevZ8V4jfbGBaSQbrM1DfwP5xQY-PFooiUT6t54jl6mKCol7DCGVQ8d-6COduIcLWxT9R-8T19TgpdQIZ-Q2wMid8YpQKGhZbxhrAmJHxTU83UFetEfQy2bchjnIP695eTRkrQxiekNN/s400/IMG_1794.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Two monkeys enjoying the barn-beam step to the kitchen.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjMaGiYBfBymH1psuxUdYathmHExCP3A7rwn_HGwWfo6fUcdMv8-PjlTUEV6ld9ST8rkOC-7pfYxpyxExuXbAVWn2Z5dG1XzN19tsKqXc40tRDVCL2NSROhwRqEnmlDxJKnluSeAwEsMQ/s1600/IMG_1800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjMaGiYBfBymH1psuxUdYathmHExCP3A7rwn_HGwWfo6fUcdMv8-PjlTUEV6ld9ST8rkOC-7pfYxpyxExuXbAVWn2Z5dG1XzN19tsKqXc40tRDVCL2NSROhwRqEnmlDxJKnluSeAwEsMQ/s400/IMG_1800.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Day three of the build.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hi1w1HwBLbkxMHENZ7h6p9IvEgVgL_KiY8gCX9ZYLmQHHiJg039beI0d6_E4FsYuTI2EpVrTz34_AwxNkLYMetZtsBf_m6qHfJwGdtdvmJXz9SYe_mKnfZuwB4fa2fxAq43N_aUrbvMz/s1600/IMG_1801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9hi1w1HwBLbkxMHENZ7h6p9IvEgVgL_KiY8gCX9ZYLmQHHiJg039beI0d6_E4FsYuTI2EpVrTz34_AwxNkLYMetZtsBf_m6qHfJwGdtdvmJXz9SYe_mKnfZuwB4fa2fxAq43N_aUrbvMz/s400/IMG_1801.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Live edge railing/drink bar.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkuf6Suc5FpYan8TfgTMgWvaXhOxM3D7ikn2fC_oI_GdCX4XUhhpe4mAqfhdTXr_m0FJTv0EnDkcnQ0C5k2TwSDaxGIBmam6rEsjfWJmfaMEdCmbH0-SLDQYTnKEHG74GNof4zI2AhO7Z/s1600/IMG_1802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkuf6Suc5FpYan8TfgTMgWvaXhOxM3D7ikn2fC_oI_GdCX4XUhhpe4mAqfhdTXr_m0FJTv0EnDkcnQ0C5k2TwSDaxGIBmam6rEsjfWJmfaMEdCmbH0-SLDQYTnKEHG74GNof4zI2AhO7Z/s400/IMG_1802.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Kind of done. Table I fixed with old barn wood.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWKO-rY8HatCkrfZnjNnkR8fYYnuFE-bmstlKKggDfKtFS0v9_J95ZvXYrOnGwEqO8HieX6pdHkxNksds-ItBhXVey3qKNmDj-KlcWteQ3CGuP7ZAgHOHz3RTN_CEQDDB3-OvOzf1I-_H/s1600/IMG_1803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWKO-rY8HatCkrfZnjNnkR8fYYnuFE-bmstlKKggDfKtFS0v9_J95ZvXYrOnGwEqO8HieX6pdHkxNksds-ItBhXVey3qKNmDj-KlcWteQ3CGuP7ZAgHOHz3RTN_CEQDDB3-OvOzf1I-_H/s400/IMG_1803.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Another live-edged railing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd2WqCdfBZGjXL1uAEsgI3wKCZi0hYavoraJDl-bxap2jPH_DJ_Jk8544C-CU8Qp7DSdy6QX2SuPToaHoO3xHmfch-Q7qx-CkdqCFGzUdGZRhok2N-H8bdgPZE1oWkizN004aDoa9B0fcl/s1600/IMG_1805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd2WqCdfBZGjXL1uAEsgI3wKCZi0hYavoraJDl-bxap2jPH_DJ_Jk8544C-CU8Qp7DSdy6QX2SuPToaHoO3xHmfch-Q7qx-CkdqCFGzUdGZRhok2N-H8bdgPZE1oWkizN004aDoa9B0fcl/s400/IMG_1805.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The smoker we bought. Yum.</td></tr>
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<b>Buried my dog that died:</b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3Jtd3h3Pwkt3OVqgLlKYQbPdgWRqCIAisbB1l6Qg-K8K6ZRp9_uO3c3UfI38CqIJG0oqRJCSiXf9WFlDnlREWbeKW40pSKS_PFCiXhNzKXm40qxYWU8fYcoRT77_zYyakKookKH6MFrT/s1600/lucy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3Jtd3h3Pwkt3OVqgLlKYQbPdgWRqCIAisbB1l6Qg-K8K6ZRp9_uO3c3UfI38CqIJG0oqRJCSiXf9WFlDnlREWbeKW40pSKS_PFCiXhNzKXm40qxYWU8fYcoRT77_zYyakKookKH6MFrT/s400/lucy.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Sweet Lucy's last day lounging in the sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5DCIVEzJZdqxHmSbqoIc9fouETgBtWQvCSk8RNsxEEGq6ag_eakj1v61QMJ3e0MwCnKXydphHF35irYbIRbo9l8zkXTR7KBW8sjpyASphViJl-SCWNM6KuoEOeXK4RWRc3P6WYnK-FEP/s1600/IMG_1807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5DCIVEzJZdqxHmSbqoIc9fouETgBtWQvCSk8RNsxEEGq6ag_eakj1v61QMJ3e0MwCnKXydphHF35irYbIRbo9l8zkXTR7KBW8sjpyASphViJl-SCWNM6KuoEOeXK4RWRc3P6WYnK-FEP/s400/IMG_1807.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Lucy's special spot in our garden.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1"><b>Went to a music festival with my family:</b></span><span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlGsh9AHp3zri4nK6MEh_IChuaQXbkQ0luZ2SoRApVtZC1ZJBUMBRb3jtNih1JYu-tsY46guRCEeV0Dy3rxGJZxzW8vkdV_tmIQNy9xLDolW37MWZo8tGBu7r3VBC-1USNxfO3M17WnhL/s1600/IMG_1817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlGsh9AHp3zri4nK6MEh_IChuaQXbkQ0luZ2SoRApVtZC1ZJBUMBRb3jtNih1JYu-tsY46guRCEeV0Dy3rxGJZxzW8vkdV_tmIQNy9xLDolW37MWZo8tGBu7r3VBC-1USNxfO3M17WnhL/s400/IMG_1817.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Stage design by my wife <a href="http://thestaylucky.blogspot.com/">Rachel</a>. <a href="http://thebonedevil.com/home.html">BoneDevil</a> live.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-GLYzmhXBpJK8Op9WzNFRJVLS58AfFevzp-Bgd5eMmVzMXjHFdwFYPWCRZxaf1FQ21DgQHvaGFlz7XYsnJuSANOqX-ShiWDsWjFy5LMUMy9Fjcu6i3WrXLHe5NIyB-b8OuzpIdhWy_vw/s1600/IMG_1819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-GLYzmhXBpJK8Op9WzNFRJVLS58AfFevzp-Bgd5eMmVzMXjHFdwFYPWCRZxaf1FQ21DgQHvaGFlz7XYsnJuSANOqX-ShiWDsWjFy5LMUMy9Fjcu6i3WrXLHe5NIyB-b8OuzpIdhWy_vw/s400/IMG_1819.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDa7OQQ4C68v2FZt5WbEG1apcCYiCELdvvppLX3JhHwC-KEcrLT0ERFOAT1RKWk4ldXIedS0aH581Db54taTlIywkaxo6UDrz5r3UkWkJBrdTTOLzCQjn9JyF5EJydL8erOOGK1RXcdin/s1600/IMG_1830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDa7OQQ4C68v2FZt5WbEG1apcCYiCELdvvppLX3JhHwC-KEcrLT0ERFOAT1RKWk4ldXIedS0aH581Db54taTlIywkaxo6UDrz5r3UkWkJBrdTTOLzCQjn9JyF5EJydL8erOOGK1RXcdin/s400/IMG_1830.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Beautiful Georgia.</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzaQIdcTA8K-PSbP6N25xRcDeqJTovLRIy4JPqdvU7HDK9iicg8FEbQ9FQMJr11U5eL-ujWmzV6ra8ZtUMwGQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Shep rocking to <a href="http://charmingruins.com/">The Charming Ruins</a>.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzE-E93J0QTRbP_bNzz_ZgSXXcWoAw6rfomDO0REMzf9x8kFFFr3royOtFFANgx58jvoC1Bsv5v36IvkWVtAw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Shep punching himself in the head. So punk.</div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Made a crazy Subaru commercial:</b></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>Please share this video with everyone you know. </i></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><i>It’s all about the number of Youtube views these days!</i></span></div>
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<span class="s1">So that’s what I’ve been up to. I see many of my birding friends, the older retired ones and the younger ones without twins are birding like mad. I’m insanely jealous. Jeremy and Mark have blown past my big year number easily. <a href="http://joshvandermeulen.blogspot.ca/">Josh</a> is likely going to beat the Ontario record this year. I’m sure he is looking at that Magnificent Frigatebird that just showed up as I type this. Maybe next year I can get out birding more. If my plans (yes, secret plans) come to fruition, there’ll be much more birding next year.</span><span class="s1"></span></div>
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<span class="s1">I leave you with this message.</span><span class="s1"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxGpEtFYYz2pC-b_Zv2yVxAuaqbSeVgh1yxOjZoj1ZHHN2BlZyWudkv5lpFKdUqD9gisuxCa8IaRzp9oTwB9QDakd5tQ7CImJPdLIzOFGNfQlPIzsCBEiPXLstNsGuC8B5haKJHGZFfEA/s1600/IMG_1752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFxGpEtFYYz2pC-b_Zv2yVxAuaqbSeVgh1yxOjZoj1ZHHN2BlZyWudkv5lpFKdUqD9gisuxCa8IaRzp9oTwB9QDakd5tQ7CImJPdLIzOFGNfQlPIzsCBEiPXLstNsGuC8B5haKJHGZFfEA/s400/IMG_1752.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">DO IT. DO IT NOW!<br />
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-21760913933042657702012-06-11T21:33:00.000-04:002012-06-11T21:33:32.597-04:00Back Yard (Punk Rock) ChirperOnce again I find a myself featured on a birding blog. I'm happy to be in the company of the fine people over at The Backyard Chirper. I am always pleasantly surprised when these opportunities arise. I never know if people are paying attention but I guess some are. If you don't follow Backyard Chirper's blog, please do me a solid, read their take on my project and then move on to their other stories. Who needs another birding blog? We do, we're birders and we all know we consume anything bird related like we used to consume rebellious music our parents hate. Ok, so some of us still consume said music.
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<a href="http://www.backyardchirper.com/blog/punk-rock-birder-paul-riss-tries-to-bust-misconceptions-of-birdwatchers/">http://www.backyardchirper.com/blog/punk-rock-birder-paul-riss-tries-to-bust-misconceptions-of-birdwatchers/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-68313338664700020582012-06-04T12:04:00.000-04:002012-06-04T12:04:01.338-04:00Oh poor me<br />
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<span class="s1">This week I need to share something. I wasn't sure what to write about because honestly, it's not easy having something every week. My life just isn't that exciting really. But statistically, and I know this from my advertising background, if I don't regularly reach out to all of you, you'll quickly move on to something else and the momentum I've built up will fizzle out. I wouldn't blame you for dropping off either, why spend your extremely valuable leisure time following someone that gives you nothing in return. So I'm back to trying to keep up weekly posts.</span></div>
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I thought I'd let you in on my reason for not being around for a while there. Really it was a combination of a few things. Laziness being at the top of the list. I'm not a lazy person but the following reasons made me slow down a bit. Game of Thrones. It is a killer of productivity but it's also a very inspirational thing. That intro sequence is exceptionally original and I'm a firm believer that if you're a creative person, at least 50% of your time should be spent inhaling others people's creative output. It further enhances your own. Work is another reason. I was so busy. All my time was spent either making or thinking of commercials. One part of the ad game people wouldn't really think about is execution. Executing an idea my partner and I have had is really important. Because he and I see the idea clearly but are humanly incapable of making it a physical thing. Therefore, we need to hire directors, production companies, sound people, SFX houses and photographers to make things happen. But they might see it a tad different than us. So we need to be the keepers of the creative vision. Anyway, we made a commercial and some print ads for Manulife Financial. This product was insurance. Our idea; without the right coverage, your family might be left with the burden of bringing in extra money in the event that you are injured and can't work. Since just showing a wife working overtime would be as interesting as watching paint dry, we exaggerated the idea and showed people's kids work proper adult jobs to help pay the bills. Here's the work.</div>
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The point of showing you all this is not so you'll feel sorry for me or even show understanding toward my plight (if you can call it that). No, I'm Going to call myself on this right away. I'm not in a bad way at all. Sure Shep has his adenoids thing but it's fixable. I might possibly have the second best job a guy can have. Birding for a living would be the number one job. I'm calling myself a suck right here. Why? Because I was recently followed by a person that is trying so hard to be a birder. He can't do much birding because he has no time or the funds to do it. He looks after his ailing father and works in an office much of the time. He is from Bombay and can't get to go birding. Here's me complaining that I have no time when last weekend I spent half a day fishing a local stream and birding all the while. I hope he isn't bothered by me talking about him but I think it's important for us all to remember when we have it so good. My life isn't always easy... No actually it kind of is. Anyway, this new friend of mine, if he'll allow me to call him that, has no bins. A birder needs bins. I'm going to start a collection. I'll start by giving $25. My goal is to get a nice pair of compact bins and send them over to him. That way he can at least do some local park birding. Anybody else game? If you're in and trust me to follow through, let's talk. Email me at punkrockbigyear AT gmail DOT com. If you do internet banking, send a small donation that way, if not, send a cheque or whatever. Let's try and help a fellow birder out. We always say we need to make more people into birders. Well, here's a guy that ready, willing and nearly able. Let's take one of his birding barriers away. We can't do a thing to help him with his time issues but we can get him the equipment.</div>
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Punk Rock Big Year</div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-21936316729141052002012-05-29T14:54:00.000-04:002012-05-29T14:54:53.661-04:00Fish, birds, me.<br />
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<span class="s1">If anyone was following instagram closely you know I got some time to myself this weekend. It was glorious. But let's back up to Saturday. Rachel had some things she needed to get done, something about clothes to buy and a workout and alone time. So Saturday morning she headed off to who knows where and did who knows what. All I know is I got a pair of shorts, two t-shirts and a bathing suit out of it. None of which I'd ever buy myself, regardless of how badly I need them. Clothes is something I never think about. They just happen to fall into and out of my ownership. I never really care too much about any specific article except maybe my hat.</span></div>
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So Saturday for me was spent 100% with the kids. It was great. They generally got along all day and there were only two memorable melt-downs. Shep was on some antibiotic last week so he cleared up yet another ear infection. He was feeling great. We now have an appointment for surgery for his adenoids. The Dr. Actually started when he put a camera up Shep's nose last Friday. He said that Shep was one tough character because he isn't sure any adult he knows could properly function under Shep's circumstances. Good to know Shep is 'under circumstances' and not just a whiny asshole. I'd like to thank all of you for your well-wishes last week.</div>
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We spent the day around the house building gardens and planting more food that will hopefully feed us all summer. They played often in the sandbox I made a week back. And even played well together. Not too many fights. My mom and aunt dropped in and took them to the cafe down the road for lunch though the kids had just eaten, they went for a chocolate milk. I went home and ate some leftovers from the unexpected trip to Muddy's Friday evening. My dad was suing to go. He loved it. It's impossible not to. Ribs, brisket and beans, mmmmmmmm.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuq1c9uvJGw_whOdc8oxD1NyCyg568NC-MOVGZiJwsuN2QiV0JTfzYtQxT-PPt_PjKjefe6k4y7YcDndsCDQ7UcQaXYoj2gGCcBfdKUtbiCZL4L_puklu8YB-hGRDbDs3EYUVnWvli_Rg/s1600/IMG_1716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuq1c9uvJGw_whOdc8oxD1NyCyg568NC-MOVGZiJwsuN2QiV0JTfzYtQxT-PPt_PjKjefe6k4y7YcDndsCDQ7UcQaXYoj2gGCcBfdKUtbiCZL4L_puklu8YB-hGRDbDs3EYUVnWvli_Rg/s400/IMG_1716.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Two garden boxes, a sandbox and two tier gardens going down the hill.</td></tr>
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Saturday night Rachel and I went out to see The Avengers. Clearly my choice but she enjoyed it as well. The Hulk has always been a favorite character of mine and it seems they finally got him right. He's probably exactly as my mind imagined him back when I was watching those shit cartoons of him which BTW you can now watch on Netflix. It was probably the single best super hero movie of all time. But I'd suggest seeing Thor first so the dude with the big horns makes sense.</div>
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Sunday morning Rachel mentioned that I should maybe go birding since she had been out all day Saturday. YES, great idea! Bt there was one problem, I hadn't been fishing yet this year and basically missed the Rainbow Trout run. Most would be back in the lake by now. There'd still be some and the Brown Trout would certainly be out eating now. So, I grabbed my bins and fishing gear and headed to a creek nearby. It was a spectacular day. All Black-throated Green, Black-throated Blue and Yellow Warblers and Brown and Rainbow Trout. I did manage a lot of small fish with a few that would be good for the pan. I do eat some fish I catch but often just let them go again. I always make a deal with the stream when I arrive about how many I plan to keep. Sunday we agreed that all caught would be released unless injury prevented that.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivLEnjZNguq3E3hGpuNunPuR74t0sd_39CRd8POH1QF2XSZNoVTyWWR5fEjLKXdFFkJARhpujGWfyf8BrcD_OfDGX39lDcVJwLLM3b1TwgeVKWQ4Laj60FkwA_RSiFToRzGxuSq6HI9Lr/s1600/IMG_1718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivLEnjZNguq3E3hGpuNunPuR74t0sd_39CRd8POH1QF2XSZNoVTyWWR5fEjLKXdFFkJARhpujGWfyf8BrcD_OfDGX39lDcVJwLLM3b1TwgeVKWQ4Laj60FkwA_RSiFToRzGxuSq6HI9Lr/s400/IMG_1718.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Bowmanville creek. I've fished this stream since I was young.</td></tr>
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At one log jam, there was a Winter Wren singing like the mad fools they are and I noticed a decent fish in the pool. Not huge but maybe a couple pounds. I cast upstream of it and as the loure was moving toward it, you could see it getting twitchy. This was going to happen. Would've been the days best fish for sure. Suddenly this huge friggin' Rainbow comes ripping out from under the log and grabs the bait. It was easily twice the size of the original intended catch. This was ok news and terrible news all at once. You see I use the lightest of light tackle. My line is only 4lb test and this. Fish would have easily pushed that. I use lighter tackle so I have to rely on skill a bit more. Anyone can throw heavy line on and drag a fish to shore. I prefer to have to figure out a strategy based on the stream and the cover. This however would be just unfair. The fish was at least 5-6 pounds. I did well, kept it on even as it ripped upstream to a new hole and up under a tree. My drag was set loose-ish so the sound of it running was a loud scream from my reel. Then, it ran back downstream to the original spot it bit. That was my demise. It was able to get into a snag of twigs, wrap my line up and snap it. Then, to add insult to injury, it spit my hook into the deepest part of the stream. I watched it sink out of sight. My adrenaline was really going. It was awesome, even though I lost the fight. I sat for a bit listening to the Wren and then moved upstream. Soon after I got the best Brown of the day.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrvIRY66T9cBvC65eXUO10TaxVrahQCRxf_rtfhEVs5oSAwdLqCtFKGSb-IFcfqQztgPxapD_zudZV4PB0jy-n4aWZBvZXfBOcQPeZbzcxwKjMWhW80ovcoWHNOEEFmgeChOmrXmEjGhg/s1600/IMG_1719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrvIRY66T9cBvC65eXUO10TaxVrahQCRxf_rtfhEVs5oSAwdLqCtFKGSb-IFcfqQztgPxapD_zudZV4PB0jy-n4aWZBvZXfBOcQPeZbzcxwKjMWhW80ovcoWHNOEEFmgeChOmrXmEjGhg/s400/IMG_1719.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">A small Brown Trout.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Another small Brown. Notice the orange spots.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Small Rainbow Trout. A little bloodied but he lived.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: left;">The best Brown I landed that day.</td></tr>
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As I headed back through the forest to my truck, I was scared nearly to death by a Ruffed Grouse. She was spitting, hissing and charging me with her tail fanned out. Like an idiot, I went toward her. She started to play the broken wing game. She seemed possessed. I followed closer and then realized that I had fallen for her game. She wasn't injured. I could hear little peeping noises and realized that I wasn't near a nest, she already had babies and they were nearby. I had never seen a baby grouse before and really wanted to. So I headed back to the spot she attacked me. Sure enough there they were. She was pissed now and started to attack again. Not wanting to stress her out any more and having seen one of the babies (so damn cute), I decided to get out of her space. On the walk back I got many birds, mostly by ear but some I saw. I met my family at the butcher and we got some meat for the week, dropped in at a farm and Shep got some yellow bean plants he wanted to grow. At home we finished up even more work on the yard. It's near done now. Then, I have to build a deck. I've been considering a living roof but don't have great knowledge of how one works. I worry most about snow. Guess I have some research to do.</div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-78590751461004459422012-05-23T10:35:00.000-04:002012-05-23T10:35:03.578-04:00Breaking the silence.<br />
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<span class="s1">Spring migration is almost over. I've spent a total of about 6 hours of it birding. This year is so different from the last. I'm starting to miss doing a big year. I'm watching friends do them this year and they've already blown well past my measly 234. If I were to bring up the idea of another big year it would surely be the end of my marriage. And really, it ain't worth that to see a few more birds.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">For those that enjoy reading this stuff, I'm sorry for being so absent. There has been a crushing amount of work with my job this year. Now that I'm with a new partner at work I feel a renewed sense of commitment to doing the best possible job of advertising I can. I had grown lazy in my old partnership. My work was ok but certainly not great. And let's face it, every one of you hates to see ads. Shit, I hate seeing them. The only thing that can make them bearable is if they don't completely suck ass. So I'm trying not to bombard you with complete shit advertising. Instead, I'll bombard you with better than average ads. Not sure that's so much better really.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">A moth on our back door. Anyone know the species?</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">At home, things have not been so great this migration season. Sure we are still a happy family but Shep is not well. Nothing terrifically serious, no tumors or anything life threatening like that. But when your child is uncomfortable it weighs heavily on you. My son has developed this issue with his adenoids, whatever the f**k they are. He is living a generally miserable life right now. His adenoids are big I guess. Imagine the worst allergies/head cold you've ever had and multiply that by ten and then, think of having it 24-7 for nearly 6 months. The other day he sat next to me on the couch. We were watching some avengers cartoons. He asked if he could whisper something in my ear. "Of course", I said. Very softly he asked me this, "Dad, will I be sick like this forever?" It made me cry. He feels so shitty, and has felt this way since about December (right around his 4th birthday).I felt really helpless and so sorry for him. It's as if he has begun to resign himself to feeling shitty for the rest of his life. I never even considered he'd think that he would live a long life. He seems to live so day-to-day. I'm constantly amazed by his ability to grasp the scale of life.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">The new sandbox with anti cat-litter covering.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">There is an operation he can get. Pretty standard stuff. They go in through the mouth and up into the nose area and just scrape out these adenoid things. Seems easy enough but he needs to be put completely under and might need to be in hospital over night. Right there. That makes me freak out. Hospitals are full of capable people but even capable people make mistakes. I'm sure it'll be fine but if you have a kid(s), you know that feeling of helplessness. I just wish I was a mutant that could remove his problem and take it into myself. Then, I could get the operation and he could just go back to being a kid and stop thinking his days from now on would be filled with feeling miserable.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Georgia doesn't have this issue. Way back, 2 years ago, she had a little issue with one kidney. Again, nothing too crazy. One of them was smaller than the other and was backing up a bit. I remember freaking out at the time but we dealt with that. During migration season this year she developed a pretty crazy cough. It was so insistent. There was no clearing her throat. She would literally cough until she puked. This went on for over a week. It seems to be letting up finally now but it was really intense around our place for a couple weeks.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Took a moment out to shoot my toy along side my dad's.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Shep's issue was really flaring up and with Georgia sick too, Rachel and I got about three hours sleep a night for a long while there. This takes it's toll on a family. Everyone was generally tired and miserable all the time. Things are looking up a bit now at least for the kids. Last night was the first night Rachel and I both slept right from midnight to 6 am. It was really amazing. For a few days there it was like when these two little people first came home with us. Sleep for a couple hours, wake up, deal with issues and then sleep another hour or so. Then go to work or in Rachel's case, draw for the kids book she's currently working on. It's been really nuts.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">To top it off, our dog Lucy seems to be going insane. She has taken to shitting/pissing all over the house, generally right after going out for a run in the yard. She has also started biting the kids and us for no reason at all. We think she may be blind and deaf as she doesn't seem to see you unless you're right close to her, then she bites. She also can't hear you even when you yell her name unless she looking directly at you. She's always been a good napper but these days she just wanders the house aimlessly at all hours of the day and night. Last night Rachel let her out into the yard and she just ran off and didn't come back. I went looking and found her in the woods behind the house with a cut on her forehead. She took one look at me and bottled off into the forest. I chased her about for a while. She actually got tired and stopped running so I tackled her as gently as I could and carried her home. She spent the entire trip violently chewing on my hands. Crazy. She's an old girl though. 14 or so years old. A chihuahua.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Breakfast Rachel made me while I was working in the garden.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">On the up side of things, we got lots of work done on our first long weekend of the summer. The vegetable gardens are nearly complete. We planted beans, peas, broccoli, tomatoes, zucchini, and many more. Our strawberry patch is filling in nicely as are the raspberry bushes. And all this time spent outside is spent around birds. There have been so many great birds in my back yard this year. For nests, I've managed to find White-breathed Nuthatch, House Wren, Robin and Great-crested Flycatcher. I also built the kids a sand box to play in. It's about the only thing that can keep Shep happy and unbothered by his nose issue. There's really nothing I like better than sitting in my garden with Rachel listening to the birds and watching my kids play together in the sand box.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">My beautiful Georgia.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">As an aside, there is some really very exciting news around Punk Rock Big Year. Of course, I can't mention more than that right now but you'll be the second to know when I can talk about it more. Rachel will be the first to know. Hope everyone's spring migration is going great.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-64164227805763394022012-04-15T11:43:00.001-04:002012-04-15T11:43:26.477-04:00Audubon Rules!You all know I'm heavily tattooed. You may know that my right upper arm is covered in John James Audubon's paintings.
I guess you could say he has left an impression on me both literally and figuratively. Well, now I can say I've made an impression on Audubon. Not him obviously but his namesake organization. I'm really proud to say that Punk Rock Big Year is on the Audubon Magazine's main website. How cool is that? It feels like a lifer of a different kind.
http://www.audubonmagazine.org/articles/birds/don-t-stereotype-birders
Visit, read, leave comments.
Punk Rock Big Year
Paul RissUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-53522932948894985852012-04-10T10:18:00.000-04:002012-04-10T10:18:04.178-04:00I'm a shit birder.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Eastern Wood-Pewee by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/hmclin/552676920/">Henry McLin</a>.</td></tr>
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Among my friends, I'm a birding genius. Among my birding peers, I'm tall and have tattoos. See, my friends don't know anything about birding and therefore I seem to know everything about it. But I'm going to make a confession to them. I suck, SO hard at birding. And punctuation I guess. A few weeks ago, with a brief early summer, people were seeing birds ahead of schedule. I was hearing them. I'm walking down main street Orono and I clearly hear a Pewee. <i>Peeaweee, peeaaa, </i>he sang. Impulsive as ever and thinking you all hang on my every tweet, I posted it. I was promptly corrected and told this was impossible in March. Like never has happened in history impossible. But it was that song. There've been no sightings of Mockingbirds on main street that I know of, not lately anyway. Still, the entire Ontario birding world would have descended upon me if I were right. I found the starling the next day singing from the top of a neighbour's. If I knew the lyrics to a culling song, that starling would've taken a dirt nap that night.<br />
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<span class="s1">A few days later I see a flycatcher in the tree behind my home (to be fair, I had no bins and it was a good 45 ft away). A good birder would've went right to Eastern Phoebe based on where and what date. A shit one like me went right to Empidonax flycatchers upon hearing it sing to make an ID. Of course, like an arse, I tweet that I have a Alder Flycatcher in my yard. Not paying enough attention to the call, which would've put me squarely on Eastern Phoebe. Again I'm politely corrected. Much eye rolling I'm sure by several good birders nice enough to give me the time of day, despite my clear and monumental retardation.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_GQz2fa6Mrj0crP8YS3JckD_fApdMtZJw8DHgwerwXXtnAF_t-qquBbRh-j6pWXGbTRBkQL_vpUTTm9oeKeMMFi32tmFUp-nYwhC30zCIzihjAS1dTo9pfQC400oKQlT_lDazV4NG55j/s1600/EasternPhoebe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN_GQz2fa6Mrj0crP8YS3JckD_fApdMtZJw8DHgwerwXXtnAF_t-qquBbRh-j6pWXGbTRBkQL_vpUTTm9oeKeMMFi32tmFUp-nYwhC30zCIzihjAS1dTo9pfQC400oKQlT_lDazV4NG55j/s400/EasternPhoebe.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Eastern Phoebe by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rosyfinch/6277278411/">kenschneiderusa</a>.</td></tr>
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Anyway, I could go on about stupid mistakes in ID that I've made if you have a few days to spare, but instead, I'll focus on how severe and public embarrassment is a great learning tool. Those two mistakes alone will help me ID three birds correctly from now on (four if you count the starling). I guess the key to learning bird ID is f**king up the first few times.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtlPxJKn9PY51q_URtaZof2kcZYu7sqU5P8vy4nOoewJbidRPsrHr_lwY5fKkZ6mNpOEVUfTQSstR1S2Q5QxU_3rl_4L6lKzb4-i2Fvq-RNS51KpMGF_UbBELPQXrtuD-favUT4hfqH1jl/s1600/europeanStarling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtlPxJKn9PY51q_URtaZof2kcZYu7sqU5P8vy4nOoewJbidRPsrHr_lwY5fKkZ6mNpOEVUfTQSstR1S2Q5QxU_3rl_4L6lKzb4-i2Fvq-RNS51KpMGF_UbBELPQXrtuD-favUT4hfqH1jl/s400/europeanStarling.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">European Starling by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/puttefin/4670740106/">Kelly Colgan Azar</a>.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-2248618966510199482012-04-04T13:23:00.002-04:002012-04-04T13:23:46.620-04:00This is getting ridiculous<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0JRRGpFz2kBbxv_WpXpS9oT4I99o3FeCTq2QlKjJqwKnlUIRMJwsr7aNisnCubIVNTlgjv2s_-miy-aubzZOP5tiLHQeD0B3X60vssy2xpYZyjZVu0D8OgYx-0nYMeZStOaqvX2qBnIJ/s1600/bohemianWaxwing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0JRRGpFz2kBbxv_WpXpS9oT4I99o3FeCTq2QlKjJqwKnlUIRMJwsr7aNisnCubIVNTlgjv2s_-miy-aubzZOP5tiLHQeD0B3X60vssy2xpYZyjZVu0D8OgYx-0nYMeZStOaqvX2qBnIJ/s400/bohemianWaxwing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHD3uDlnvRGv8mWZnBnmAkiUX5cZ9603D3nQsWtZP-f9fg2kC1BzVVv7cmVB4MgLdIzPJUn8utlw3vdkmgqIhhmB2X3kXwtBXvJC4WUX3XLh9idFuR6ILP3TA0bMUlR7o7dyyMlj5x_Ir_/s1600/bohemianWaxwing2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHD3uDlnvRGv8mWZnBnmAkiUX5cZ9603D3nQsWtZP-f9fg2kC1BzVVv7cmVB4MgLdIzPJUn8utlw3vdkmgqIhhmB2X3kXwtBXvJC4WUX3XLh9idFuR6ILP3TA0bMUlR7o7dyyMlj5x_Ir_/s400/bohemianWaxwing2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;">Bohemian Waxwings by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/billbouton/6941716033/in/photostream/">Bill Bouton</a>.</td></tr>
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<span class="s1">You know I did a big year last year. You know I got 234 species. You know I had some great successes and terrible dips. But the one thing that keeps eating away at my brain is the bird you see above this text. I have developed a really annoying jinx bird. I'm probably making it worse by admitting it here and fixating on it. But the Bohemian Waxwing clearly hates my guts. Until last year I never really chased them much. I was content with my many sightings of Cedar Waxwings. They are splendid birds. But do an Ontario big year and they quickly turn to a junk bird.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">Last year, I drove about a total of 500km trying to find BOWAs. Last year, I drove about a total of 500km trying to find BOWAs. Writing that sentence twice isn't a mistake in editing. It's on purpose. That statement keeps ripping through my mind like a really annoying but catchy song. To most people it's just pure insanity. It is to my wife and most of my friends that aren't birders. To hardcore birders, it's clear that I didn't work hard enough at it. Glenn Coady drove to Rainy River from Toronto over a weekend. Yes, he left work at 5pm and drove directly there, birded as long as he could spare and drove back arriving just in time for work Monday morning. Rainy River is 20 hours and 39 minutes drive from Toronto. Now that's crazy but I guess that's why he has the record for most species seen in Ontario in a single calendar year. 338 birds I believe.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">Back to my BOWA situation. I would get calls from all my birder friends all season long telling me where they were. I'd go there as soon as I could, most often only a few hours after the call. At most a day. But with BOWAs, that's often too late. As their name suggests, they always move around. I would regularly visit places they SHOULD have been. Berry bushes around my home. The list-serve that I follow religiously would have posts about them. I'd read it over a morning coffee, be there only hours later to find trees stripped of food but never a BOWA. Once, on the advise of Margaret Bain, I zipped about 30 min. north-east of my hometown. Her directions were very specific. A friend of hers had them in her back yard but would be at work that day. I was granted permission to wander around her yard as they were seen in the back of the house near the back of their land. I was told that her husband, who would be asleep in the basement after a night shift, would have no problem with a total stranger punk with a Mohawk wandering about the property in knee-deep snow. I couldn't help having the death fantasy of him waking, wandering into the kitchen and dispatching the punk trespasser with a 22 from the safety of an open window.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">I came close that day. I heard them. I took out my Sibley app and listened to be sure. It was them! I was excited. Kind of like a super-juiced-up version of that feeling you used to have on Christmas morning when you were a kid. You know the one, just after your eyes crack open but just before the explosion of pillows, covers and stuffed animals that finds you bounding downstairs to the tree. I mean, I had already chased them so many times. I just couldn't find them that day.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">Another time, I drove to a place north of Pickering where people were regularly seeing them. Some conservation area. The weather was starting to turn bad about half way there. By the time I got to the spot, it was a full-on blizzard. Snow was ripping sideways across the parking lot. So I did what any birder would do, got out and went looking. The snow was deep. I put on my snow shoes. I wandered into the field, over some hills and into the forest. I got to the spot but there were no birds. Like zero birds. I couldn't even rustle up a nuthatch out there. It was a miserable waste of time.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">On yet another occasion, just a couple weeks ago, I went birding with Margaret. She had seen BOWAs on the Saturday, but when we went to the area Sunday, they were of course gone. By that time, I had just settled in to the fact that I wouldn't see them again this winter. I don't know what their problem is. I'm not doing a big year anymore so they should be ok with me seeing them. Unless they plan to become a full-on, long-term jinx bird.</span><br />
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<span class="s1">So now I'm not even trying anymore. The season for them in our area is over now. I've always got warblers to see now. But dammit I've seen all but two or three of them. Certainly I have all the ones we regularly get here in southern Ontario. Then, my writer partner, Adam, goes off to visit his dad in Red Deer Alberta. What does this have to do with the story? Well, he texts me this message, "Huge flock of really cool birds at my dad's house. Very much like a Cardinal but mostly gray. With some bright colours on the wing and tail." I reply, "Waxwings. What colour are they under the tail?", not even really thinking they'd be BOWAs. He sends back, "Kind of red. My guide says Bohemian Waxwings. Really cool birds. About 1000 of them."</span><br />
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<span class="s1">*^#@*%!!!!!!!!!!</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Punk Rock Big Year</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Paul Riss</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1897204587907592769.post-54766357780926519022012-03-29T09:34:00.001-04:002012-03-29T09:34:21.298-04:00Work, Work, Work!Seems all I do is work and cough these days. I haven't been birding in a couple weeks. This is killing me. BUT, I am spending as much time watching raw footage for Punk Rock Big Year in any tiny bits of free time I might have here and there. There's an awful lot of footage to tear through and I am making some headway but not as quickly as I'd like to. My time is so eaten up by day trips to NYC for a meeting (Yes, I leave my home at 5:45am to get to the airport, Fly to NYC, go to a meeting until 6pm, then eat quickly and go back to the airport, wait on Air Canada's flight delays and usually arrive home again about midnight. Not so fun). Then there's the business of thinking of new ways to sell things to people. Don't get me wrong, I do like my job but like any high-stress career, sometimes it can be a real killer. Top that off with a sick son, daughter, wife and even myself and you have a recipe for feeling defeated. Anyway, enough crying like a baby; while viewing footage, I came across this bit from last spring where I was birding and <a href="http://www.margaretatwood.ca/">Margaret Atwood</a>, yes, the famous Canadian writer, tweeted about me and PRBY. I was a bit excited. She's kind of a big deal. Enjoy a tiny bit of the film. Plus, I'm including a very short clip from the trailer with music by <a href="http://www.facebook.com/Bradleyboymac">Bradley Mac Arthur</a>.<br />
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Punk Rock Big Year<br />
Paul RissUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0