I can't seem to make 'em fast enough Not my intent Birders seem to be crazier than even me Found out most folks just use them for garden art Glad you like 'em, fine lady They're all a bit different
Thank you @Kate Ellery I've given quite a few to folks, but the shipping is killer So, I keep it local These tiny abodes have been selling for $50-$70 But, the freight is right around $40 after packing them so they won't get damaged Heh, turns out, size DOES matter
Austpost as our postal system is called wants to get richer and richer as well …..they keep putting costs up but it is now corporate owned where it once was government owned so the shareholders have to get their dividends I suppose @Gary O'Dan
Yeah, our USPS is pretty nuts too $40usd will get you about 50mi (80km) Our UPS is pretty close to that...just faster
Well it’s bedtime for me ….keep up your great woodworking talent @Gary O'Dan I believe there is a man at a place called Alford about 50 Km away from where I live that makes birdhouses out of Mallee trees but I’ve never seen them and it’s a tiny town with just a few homes and of course a pub, I’ve traveled through the town but never stopped to ask where the wood carver lives https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mallee_(habit)
I’ll Never Forget My First Friend I was three. He was a few months. Neither of us had much to play with….but each other. We never lacked. He’d look up at me with complete unwavering trust. Trying to read my face. Ears perked up when I spoke. Wherever I went, he followed. He rapidly grew, and soon we were face high to each other. We’d roam the patch of woods up the hill from our place, him guarding my every step, sometimes blocking my way when I got too close to the cliff edge. I didn’t know it at the time. I’d take my naps nestled into his chest. He’d lie there, never moving a muscle. As I grew to boyhood, he remained a part of me, my shadow. We’d wrestle….he’d let me win. We’d hunt. We’d fish. Not that he took part. He was no hunting dog. Just my companion. We’d share lunch. He’d listen to my every word, as we sat on the creek bank. Years passed. I got very busy, but not so busy that we wouldn’t still roam the woods every so often, even though he had a bit of a time keeping up. The day came when he just didn’t get up. I was sixteen. Mom told me to take him in to the vet. ‘He’ll be able to fix him up.’ I gathered him up and laid him in the passenger’s seat of the pickup, right beside me, and we had one of our conversations while I drove the twenty miles. It had been awhile. Too long actually. I sat on the stool beside the exam table, while the vet did his thing. Once again my best friend and I were face high to each other. The vet was talking with my mom. He handed me the phone. It was time. He had to be put to sleep. OK, I brought him in to get fixed up, and now he’s going to be put down….just like that. I was told I had to leave the room. Can't. The vet did…..something. I don’t recall. I held my best friend’s face with both hands. His ears perked up as we had what would be our last conversation, telling him the reality. Then, the vet took him away Even though the wipers were going, I had a hard time seeing through the rain drops on the way back home. ……..I’ll never forget my first friend Wrote a simple little poem about him;
Gary, I wish there was a "really, really, really, really like" button because just plain 'ol "like" doesn't cut it.....
Too sweet Glad you enjoy the reads Y'know, it's funny, when someone posts a sad thing, hitting that 'like' button feels a bit weird
My first dog was a dark brown (tri-color) collie mix named Bonzo. My folks had Bonzo before i was even born, and we had him until he finally died of old age. As an only child, Bonzo was my best friend for most of my younger years. When I looked at the picture of your dog, @Gary O'Dan , he looked a lot like my Bonzo looked. This is us on top of the snow pile in front of our home in the early 1950’s. You can see (barely !) the roof of the garage behind the snow pile.
We are currently taking care of this little girl .. ( not our dog) sadly she has dementia so she will just stand staring for hours till her legs get weary. she has to be encouraged to eat or she just forgets where her food / water is
OK, gotta tell someone. Yesterday as I came in through the laundry room door, I felt Emma meet me; the sweetest, softest dog we had ever owned. I hadn't thought of her in years and wasn't thinking about her just then. She was just there--her energy. And then she was gone.