We start with eagles today. An islander writes, “Our friendly neighborhood bald eagle caught and ate another of our ducks today. He comes right up to the house to catch them.”
I suspect the eagle isn’t actually friendly, as she later says, “This eagle was looking at hubby as if he might be food. We have a huge goose that protects the flock, but this duck was being a bit of an ass and not staying with the rest of the flock near the goose.”
Eagles have devastated other farms, such as the one recounted in this gripping narrative shared by another islander. “We had one rip right through chicken wire and feast all day while we were at work. Had to take the roof off of the coup to let him try to fly away. He was too fat to fly so he just walked off into the woods. 12 birds gone.”
Some people point out that eagles are crepuscular and tend to hunt in the evening and the morning, but will change their habits if there’s a convenient duck buffet available in the middle of the day.
And it may be the same eagle working his way south to north on the island. One family has named him Eddie and likes watching him fly. They didn’t mention if they’ve ever seen him drop duck viscera.
We usually complain about slow drivers, but this week we shake things up by complaining about slow motorcyclists. We have this post: “Dear Slow Motorcyclist Who Kept Trying To Wave Me Around Them At Blind Curves And Blind Hills: I choose life. Try going the speed limit.”
Before we can engage with the topic, we have to establish a shared vocabulary. What is the correct word for people riding a motorcycle? Motorcyclists call themselves bikers, so to distinguish themselves, people on bicycles have to call themselves cyclists. Bikers sometimes derisively call cyclists pedal bikers.
Now that we’ve cleared that up, maybe the biker was going as fast as they could. Is the original poster sure she was behind a motorcycle and not some kind of scooter? What size was the alleged motorcycle? She tells us it was “motorcycle sized.”
Ok, we have established a shared vocabulary and agreed that the vehicle in question was indeed a motorcycle. So why did the original poster need to go around the motorcycle? Why couldn’t she just drive at a leisurely pace for miles, enjoying the view?
Apparently she “needed to get to work,” which sounds like a fishy excuse.
Why didn’t she just try to pass on the right, straddling the line and risking falling into the sea (if on Quartermaster) or a ditch (anywhere else on the island)? We are so full of helpful advice and tips.
We have questions about the Strawberry Festival this year. Namely, will the accordion guy be playing there? There will be a busker’s stage at Pandora, so maybe he’ll move from his spot under the tree in the Thriftway parking lot to serenade us in the shade of a cat climbing tower.
Who will be the unofficial mayor this year? The race is tight between a dog named Buddy, another dog also named Buddy, 4 dogs in superhero costumes, a goat, a tree, and a bookmobile.
I think we should replace the office of the mayor with a consortium of dogs. Perhaps then we will finally get a dog park on Island.
We’re leaving garbage on other people’s property again and labeling it “free.”
This week’s treasures include a loveseat with no cushion, a broken file cabinet, some damp boxes of miscellaneous wires, and an empty picture frame.
The pile in question was one of many spotted around the island. There was also some at Tramp Harbor and near the golf course.
It seems someone has found an interesting new way to get rid of garbage by spreading it out in little piles over the island. I think it’s a smart method. Like a squirrel burying nuts to eat in winter, you will always have a pile of junk somewhere that you can unearth from under the snow in case you need a printer cable or a broken light bulb.
Lastly, Someone donated a mug to Grannies but forgot to donate the accompanying spoon. If you bought that mug, please contact them to pick up the spoon. They have provided this helpful visualization: