Journal: Bats, Embroidery, Bats, Quilting, Bats, & Fireworks

Brown thrasher

Last Monday, I posted a picture of a beautiful quilt in the header of the quilting group of which I am co-owner.  I sent the lady who had made it, Wanda Stenzel, an email to tell her I’d done this, and asking her to kindly tell us about her quilt, since I remembered that there was an interesting story behind it.  Receiving no answer, I looked back in the conversations on our group, and when I saw that we had not heard from Wanda since February of 2016, I did a little research.

I was so sad to find that she has passed away in April of 2016.  Here is her obituary, for any of you reading this who might have known her:  Wanda Stenzel obituary

I hunted on Facebook for her children who were listed in the obituary, found one of her sons, and, upon seeing that he had recently written of remembering his mother, I told him who I was, offered my belated condolences, and sent him the picture of his mother with her quilt, which I edited, brightening it a bit so Wanda can be seen a little better.  Wanda made quite a number of Jinny Beyer’s beautiful – and somewhat complicated – quilts.  Wanda is the one who told me where to buy cheap newsprint pages for my appliqué and paper-piecing work:  Blick Art

I remember her saying now and then, after mentioning that a quilt she was making was a bit difficult and tedious, “But it keeps me out of trouble!”

I received a reply on Facebook from Wanda’s son Gary:

Thank you so much for sharing this photo and your lovely thoughts, Sarah Lynn Jackson.  It warms our hearts to see how many people were touched through my Mom’s love for quilting.

I then told him a story his mother had told about a Bargello class she’d taught:

I love making Bargello quilts.  I have taught a class for Bargello two different times.  Once the husband came along to “help” his wife.  The long strips were cut and he was handing them to her as she sewed them together.  I went over to check their progress and couldn’t figure out the problem at first.  The pattern was showing in the first few vertical rows, and then there was just a mess!  I finally figured out that as he was handing her the strips, they were not always having the same part as the top!  I told her I would have her husband do all of the un-sewing.  Ha!

I received one more response from Gary:

That perfectly shows my Mom’s clever, dry sense of humor. She was also unflappable under pressure, which was so reassuring to us kids when we were growing up. I’m so glad you got to know her. Thank you for sharing!

I got a response from Wanda’s second son Wednesday morning:

Like Gary replied, thank you for sharing! It’s nice when a person who has a memory of anyone really, of a deceased family member -- shares this! Very gracious, thank you for that again! Scott C. Stenzel

Isn’t that nice?  I’m glad I wrote to them.  I know from experience that it’s a comfort when someone remembers one’s parents fondly, and mentions them to you after they have passed away.  And when I saw that Wanda’s son had just written of his mother, spoken of missing her, just a week or so ago, I decided it was a good time to give him my sympathies, and offer the picture and a few remembrances.  It doesn’t matter how old your parents are; when you love them dearly, you’re sad to lose them.  Wanda lived a full and good life.  That’s always a comfort to those one leaves behind.

One night last week, Larry got home just in time to find me putting a big Alaska salmon into the oven.  “Let’s smoke it, instead!” he said.  “It’s way better, that way.”  And off he went with the salmon.  He likes to use our Traeger grill, but he doesn’t often get home from work early enough during the week to use it.  He was right:  the salmon was way better, that way.

One of our favorite meals is stuffed peppers – I should say, stuffed and overflowing peppers... but it’s not quick.  Not the way I make them, it’s not.  But oooooeeee, our stuffed peppers are to die for:

First, I put a few leaves of lettuce on the plates…then the cooked peppers…then I fill them with well-seasoned hamburger (speaking of spices rather than age) (or sometimes I cook the hamburger with chunky picanté sauce), topped with a dollop of sour cream; then rice with plenty of butter followed by a heaping spoonful of shredded taco cheeses; next, tomatoes; after that, a generous helping of chunky picanté sauce, all of which is covered with a sprinkling of bacon chips.  By that time, the green pepper is completely buried and cannot be seen at all.  Sometimes I put sliced jalepeño peppers on the lettuce around the pepper in a pinwheel design, interspersed with half-slices of tomatoes; but that’s usually garnish only for company.  When the children were home, I generally wound up eating most everyone’s left-behind jalapeños.  The children didn’t care to turn into fire-breathing dragons, thank you kindly.

Larry was just asking for this meal a couple of days ago.  Next time I’m in town, I should gather the ingredients...

I like the method of combining everything after cooking them separately, because the flavors are more individual and pronounced.  Delightful to the tastebuds!  For the same reason, I prefer using a combination of individual spices, rather than one of those all-spice blends, which to my tongue is mostly an amalgamation, a mishmash – more than a fusion, a confusion.  ha

I have the same attitude toward fruit cocktail.  Much better to get fruit individually, whether fresh or canned, and then combine it at serving time, if you must combine it.  I like big, sparkling bursts of flavor, as opposed to a bowl of ingredients that looks like a variety of stuff, but pretty much tastes all the same.

Oh!  A catbird just swooped down at Teensy as he lay sprawled on the front porch in the evening sun, then landed in the lilac bush and set up a fuss.  Teensy rolled over, the better to take a look at the bird through one partially-open eye.

A friend wrote about an injured lizard near her house, saying, “It seems to be moving about normally.  I’m keeping an eye on it.  I don’t want it to suffer and die a painful death if such a thing could be avoided.  I also don’t want to kill it if it might have healed and done just fine.”

That’s a delicate balance to find, at times.  If you knew how many times one child or another of ours came dashing pell-mell into the house, injured critter or bird in hand, asking me to do something about it.  Siggghhhhh...  Sometimes there was something I could do... sometimes not.  The kids all knew my line by heart:  “I can’t save the world’s population of fill in the blank!”  😕

But sometimes we hauled an animal to the vet... or conducted a burial... or just sighed and adopted an animal.

Barn swallow

The stargazer lilies are all in bloom.  I went out to take pictures of them – and found swallows swooping through the yard, catching insects on the fly.  A brown thrasher was at the edge of the lawn, hunting insects along a big log.  And over on the cattleguard, a little cottontail sat munching grass.  More pictures are here.

I took the camera back in the house, grabbed my purse, and prepared to head for Hobby Lobby to get batting for my customer’s quilt – and my phone rang.

It was Hannah, telling me that Aaron, who turned 16 in April, got hurt on the job that afternoon and had a broken pelvis.  Three heavy aluminum forms (about 80 pounds each) fell on him.  The pelvis is broken in two places.  They took him to the Schuyler hospital, where they ran a CT scan.  He didn’t need surgery, as the bones were in place, thankfully.  They allowed him to go home – with crutches and a strong pain prescription.

Makes me feel so bad.  He just started working a couple of months ago, and hoped to make enough to purchase a vehicle. 

At Hobby Lobby, I had one choice, and one choice only, in order to get the king-sized batting I needed, as someone had cleared out several shelves of the stuff:  Fairfield polyfil low-loft.  I’d wanted medium-loft, but this would do.  It’s not so low-loft as to be unsubstantial, and it’s a soft batting with a nice drape.

Home again, I got the quilt loaded on my frame and the pantograph printed and set in place on the quilting table.  I was ready to begin.  But it was bedtime; I would start on it the next day.

Wednesday afternoon, I took Tabby to the vet.  Something is wrong with his right eye.  I’d thought it was a cataract, but it got worse.  There was an ulceration in it, which the doctor discovered when he stained the eye so he could get a good look at it.  He gave me antibiotic drops to put in Tabby’s eyes four times a day, and wants to see him again in a few days.

By the time I got back home with the poor kitty, he had shed what looked like several coats of fur all over me.  I changed clothes and got back to the quilting, getting a few rows done before time for church.  Afterwards, we ate a late supper, Larry went for a bike ride, and I returned to the quilting machine. 

By 2:00 a.m., I’d finished six rows of quilting.  Each row was about 8” wide, so there were about 48” completed.  Since the quilt was approximately 94” x 94”, it was a little more than halfway done.

A friend, upon seeing my pictures of the swallows, wrote, “Barn Swallows.  I despise these birds!!!  Yes, they are beautiful and so graceful flying around.  BUT… I fight them every year to keep them from building their nasty, muddy nests on my front porch and sometimes back porch.  They are the worst nuisance bird in that regard.”

Around here, swallows are welcome birds, because they help keep the mosquito population down.  Especially in the evenings, large flocks of them come swooping through the yard, catching insects on the fly.  One swallow can consume 60 insects per hour.

Not quite up to the amount a bat eats – 1,000 insects per hour – but there are a lot more swallows than bats, so they certainly do help.

They like to nest in our garage, which can be a problem, since we don’t want to shut the door down and prevent parent birds from getting to their babies.  Usually the door is up a bit to allow the cats access, but if there’s a storm, or stray cats around, we’d like to shut the door – and can’t, if there are baby swallows in the nest.  This spring, we had the door shut when the swallows first arrived, on account of the stray cats that kept coming in through the pet door to get to the cat food.  So the swallows nested somewhere else.  Some of those that have been flying around the yard are fledglings, as their beaks still have a bit of yellow, and their tails aren’t as long.  I love birds, but the lady is right – they can sure make a mess!

Another lady commented on how swallows that had built nests near her front and back doors would divebomb them.  “A bit unnerving,” she wrote.

Yesirree, they can whistle right through your hair with hardly a slowdown!  Years ago, a couple of them were divebombing Teddy as he was trying to clean out a backyard shed; he must’ve been too close to their nest.  One actually touched his head.

Teddy, who was about 11 or 12, ducked and yelled, “Pull your landing gear up, you stupid bird!” – which of course totally convulsed his sisters, who were watching the show.

A few days ago, Joanna told me the following: 

Birder 1:  “What kind of bird is that?”

Birder 2:  “That’s a gulp.”

Birder 1:  “A gulp?  What’s that?”

Birder 2:  “It’s like a swallow, only bigger!”

Wave on Wave pantograph

Thursday, I worked on my customer’s quilt most of the afternoon, and then headed to town to pick up this and that from daughters and sister that they had graciously agreed to let me ‘borrow back’ from them to enter in the County Fair the next morning.  They put up with me being an Indian giver (and I do give the stuff back, and I always promise to remake the items, should anything bad happen to them whilst I’m a-borryin’ ’em) ... and they go right on acting like they like me, despite my bothersome ways.

I figured if I would drive straight to each house, gather up the stuff, and depart straightaway, I could be home again in half an hour.  But that nevah, evah happens!  Nope, nope, nope.  Ever’one is so blabby, you know!  Not me, though.  Nope.  Nevah, evah.

Still, I should be commended! – I went to Victoria’s house, then Hester’s house, then Lura Kay’s house, then Hannah’s house, and finally Teddy’s house – and was only gone two hours.

First stop, Victoria’s house – not to pick anything up, but to take her some meat she had left in our freezer.  As I drove, I listened to weather announcements on the radio:  There was a tornado on the ground about 45 miles to our north, a funnel cloud to our east, and softball-sized hail (4 ¼” in diameter) 50 miles to the northeast.  I turned the corner to Victoria’s house – and there in the middle of the street was a big ol’ dirt devil.  Odd sight, in the middle of a wide cement street.

When Hester was wee little, she spotted a dirt devil out in a nearby field and exclaimed, “Ohhhh, isn’t that kyyyooooooot! — It’s a baby tornado.” 

I was quite intrigued with dirt devils when I was little, traveling with my parents through Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, etc.  One day when we were stopped at a little country rest area, I spotted one out in a nearby field, and I could stand it no longer:  I climbed over the fence, ran like everything to get to that whirlwind – and jumped slam-bang into the middle of it.

Oh, mercy, it was not what I expected.  It took my breath away.  It sandblasted me.  It wouldn’t let go of me!  I thought I’d never get out.  I wondered where I’d ever wind up, and what would become of me.  Finally it spit me out, and I blindly made my way back to our camper and fumbled in the door.

My mother gasped, “Oh, my goodness, whatever happened to you??!!” 

I had – until then – been her cleanest kid ever.  I could play outside all day in a white dress and come in at the end of the day as pristine as when I set out in the morning (and not for lack of playing mad-dash all day long, either).

I had to take a bath and wash my hair – and it seemed like days before all the dirt and sand was out of my eyes, nose, and ears.  Ugh.  I thought it would be something like being on a merry-go-round, only faster and more fun. 

Wrong.

I saw Aaron when I went to Hannah’s house, surrounded with gifts friends had brought him.  Poor boy, he’s been in quite a lot of pain.

That night, I sold another pattern.  That made two in three days – and last week, someone bought 13 patterns all at once, and I was surprised to find $65 in my PayPal account.  As Jed Clampett woulda said, “Wheeeee, doggies!” 

As I gathered up items to enter in the fair, I found a couple of things I’d forgotten about:  Emma’s lavender and green throw, and Elsie’s fleece blanket with matching doll blanket.  Last year, I totally forgot to take the Christmas tree skirt; so I took it this year.

When I went upstairs to hunt down the Hannah Pepper doll clothes in Victoria’s bins in one of the cubbyholes, I opened the small doors to find – a baby starling recently expired on the cubbyhole floor.  There’s a nest in the eaves, and he obviously got out of the nest somehow, and found a hole where he could get into the house. 

Aaauuuggghhh.  I headed off to get something with which to pick it up – and discovered ........... a little brown bat, quite alive, on the floor in the hallway.

Aaaaaaaaaauuuuuugggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!  I’d walked right past that thing without noticing it!  I could’ve stepped on it, with my bare feet!!!!!!!!!!!

I scurried back downstairs, grabbed a bag, put on my leather gardening gloves, rushed back upstairs, put bat in bag, picked up baby bird, and trotted back down the stairs and out the back door to give baby starling an eternal place of rest under a far mulberry tree, and to place the Little Brown bat (that’s not just a description; that’s its proper name) on the edge of the deck, which is one story up, so he could get himself in position to take flight.  They have to be at least two feet off the ground to go airborne.

Then I discarded of the bag, washed my hands, and headed back upstairs to hunt for the doll clothes.  I found them – somewhat wadded in a gift bag.  I should’ve looked for them earlier, because one little outfit could’ve done with a washing.  But I ran the lint roller over it several times, steamed the wrinkles out of everything, and called it good.

Here are the things I took to the fair:

1.              Norma’s Buoyant Blossoms quilt

2.              Christmas Tree Skirt

3.              Bobby’s Sailboat Mosaic wallhanging

4.              Joanna’s Blossoms bag

5.              Norma’s machine-embroidered tea towels

6.              Victoria’s 8” Hannah Pepper doll clothes

7.              Lura Kay’s coffeepot cozy

8.              Luke & Katrina’s Folded Star potholders

9.              Emma’s Monthly Hang-Ups

10.           Hester’s Graceful Garden appliquéd pillow

11.           Joanna’s satin dress

12.           Lura Kay’s Mini Log Cabin needlecase

13.           Lura Kay’s ‘Teacher’ mug rug

14.           Hester’s Snowman placemats

15.           Emma’s throw

16.           Elsie’s fleece blanket

This is only the 3^rd time I’ve ever entered things at the fair.

I headed for the feathers.  I hadn’t slept much Wednesday night, and was still awake when Larry left for work at 6:30 a.m.  I slept for a little while after that, but it wasn’t enough.  By Thursday night, I was tired... and I had to get up early to take those things to the fair.  I sure wish they’d have evening entry hours, too, so perhaps Larry could help me lug everything in.

Ah, well.  I would do like Lucy Van Pelt told Charlie Brown to do:  “Keep your chin up, and keep a stiff upper lip!”  (Next frame shows him with his face all contorted, as he attempted to do both at the same time.)

Friday morning while I was taking a bath and washing my hair, there was a whole lot of ka-thumping and crashing around out in the living room and music room.  I thought, Larry must’ve forgotten something and come home for it... but then I opened the door a crack and peered out, and spotted Tabby sitting in the living room staring with great interest into the music room, from whence came all the racket. 

Now, I pretty well knew what was going on, upon seeing that; but it’s always a little astonishing how many feathers a cat-dispatched bird can make all over one’s once-clean house.  

I hate cats!  Well... not always.  Sometimes I do... and sometimes I don’t.

I bawled out Teensy, whereupon he stalked off and exited through the pet door in High Dudgeon.  I grabbed broom and dustpan and got to work.  😝

I think, though I’m not sure, that those feathers had once belonged to a young blue jay.  For such pretty birds, blue jays sure can be nasty.  This one, however, will never be nasty again.

A few minutes later as I stood, curling iron in hand, peering into the bathroom mirror, The Cat Came Back (cue violins), got himself right behind me, and said (and I quote), “MMMRRRRROOOWWWW!!!” which was clearly to say, “I resent the way you talked to me, and I demand respect, for I am a descendant of Big, Fierce, Lions and Tigers!”

Yeah, yeah, Teensy.  (...petting the top of his soft little head...)

By twenty ’til eight, I was loading things into the Jeep.  By 9:00 a.m., I was heading out the door on my way to Ag (short for Agricultural) Park.  When some of our kids were little, they thought it was Egg Park.

The girl who filled out the papers for everything I entered looked like she was about twelve years old (they look younger to you, the older you get – ever notice that phenomenon?) – but she was friendly and helpful.

We finished and I went away, leaving a large heap of things on the table (including a couple of breakable things).  The girl had a pile of tickets beside her to put with the items.  I wonder, was she good at matching pictures with descriptions, when she was in Kindergarten?  I keep thinking about my sister’s coffeepot... telling myself, There are still coffeepots for the buying, just like this one, despite the fact that it’s vintage... and then I remember that the coffee cup she let me take, that I gave her with the ‘Teacher’ mug rug, might be even more ‘vintage’ than the coffeepot.  ((...hair standing up on end...))

Lugging all those heavy things (quilts are heavy, you know that?) from Jeep to far side of the Exhibition Hall did a number on a leg that was complaining in the first place, and by the time I left, I was remembering how Larry’s grandmother used to describe herself:  “I have a hitch in my git-along.”  😃

Maybe next time I could trundle everything in, in the children’s old Radio Flyer farm wagon.  (I wonder where that thing got itself to?  Maybe we gave it to one of the kids?)

Before going back home, I took Aaron some of Larry’s big books.  Aaron was still sleeping, and everyone was trying not to wake him, as he’d had a rough night, Hannah said, because of pain.

Hannah and the younger children then took some of their quilling and drawing to the fair.  She texted me to say they saw my tickets at the fair.  Some have the name ‘Sarah Lee Jackson’ on them; some are correct. 

That’s the trouble with have ten-year-olds checking people in.  Ah, well.  ♫ ♪ Nobody doesn’t like  ♫ ♪ Sara Lee! ♫ ♪

Do you remember those old jingles?  Sara Lee commercials

My cousin Jenny, Uncle Bill’s daughter who’s just a few months younger than me, used to sing to me in the tune of those old commercial jingles, “ ♫ ♪ Nobody likes ♫ ♪ Sarah Lynn! ♫ ♪ ”  She was funny.

I gave Tabby his soft food, put an eyedrop into his eye ----  Do you know the trouble with having a new bottle of cat eyedrops sitting on the table when one is accustomed to using eyedrops one’s self, and the eyedrops are in the same size of a bottle as one’s own eyedrops, and one takes one’s spectacles off in preparation to administering eyedrops to one’s self before one picks up the bottle, thus effectively rendering one’s self partially blind?  (Whew, that sentence would’ve done Charles Dickens proud.)

You don’t even need me to finish the story, do you?

Fortunately, Olfoxacin drops are also used for humans, and this mild solution for my littlest kitty certain isn’t going to harm my eyes, and I never touched the tip to the kitty’s eye, so it wasn’t contaminated.  Funny thing is, these drops felt even better in my eyes than my regular eyedrops, which is what first alerted me to the fact that I’d put the cat’s drops in my own eyes.

But I’m fine, I tell you, fine!  Meeeeooww.  ((sharpening claws and looking for a saucer of milk))

I was falling asleep on my feet, so I took a little nap, then got up and put an apple pie into the oven and headed back to my quilting room.  The ‘hitch in my git-along’ was all gone, and I was as good as new.  Just feel my nose.

At 6:50 p.m., I finished my customer’s scrappy quilt.  I still needed to take pictures of it and package it – and the UPS Store closes at 7:00 p.m.  Mailing it would have to wait ’til the next day.  Here it is, undergoing a cat scan.  😉

The pattern is called ‘Growing Up Odd’. It is 93” square, and is comprised of 2,425 two-inch squares.  More photos here.

There’s a tutorial for the quilt here.

The lady has already sent me another quilt; it’ll be here later this week.

Since I told Tabby not to walk on the quilt, he thought he had to go all the way around it, Stage Left, to get to the stairs, even though he was already Stage Right.  à

“Your cat listens????” exclaimed a friend, incredulously.

hee hee  Yep, they all do (and have, speaking of the dearly departed felines we’ve had).  This started when we had babies in the house, and I wanted to lay the baby down on his or her blanket on the floor, and didn’t want muddy-footed cats treading on the blanket. I’d hold up a hand like a traffic cop, and say, “STOP! Don’t walk on the blanket” – and then actively prevent the kitty from stepping on it.  It wasn’t long before they’d stop even if I just put up a hand.  Cats are smart, and learn words just as well as dogs.  But they sure are a lot more independent and stubborn, and it takes a lot of love and patience (and treats!) to get them to do what you want.  They come when I call, too – uh, that is, most of the time.    It’s so funny when I go to the door, whistle, and watch a cat or two make his appearance way off up the hill, and then come loping toward me, fur rippling in the breeze.  I always reward them with a treat.  Keeps them coming for more, you know.

That evening, I took Loren a piece of Schwan’s apple pie, fresh out of the oven.  Mmmm.  Good stuff.

I posted pictures of my customer’s quilt online – and immediately got dozens of ‘likes’.  Soon there were over 200 ‘likes’.  A lot of people like scrappy quilts.

Speaking of Facebook ‘likes’... there’s one lady who posts pictures of her work now and then... waits an hour or two... and then writes a passage or two about how she can’t understand how some can post pictures of inferior work and garner lavish praise, while she posts really beautiful things that she’s spent hours and hours on, and practically nobody compliments her!

I can almost hear all the people clicking madly on her post after that ----- but they’re not clicking ‘Like’; they’re clicking ‘Hide future posts from this user’! 

Actually, her work was quite pretty, but I think nobody wanted to click ‘Like’, simply because they didn’t like her attitude.

Saturday afternoon while I talked with my brother on the phone, I started a load of clothes in the washer, hung one load on the line, watered all the house plants and one front-porch plant, folded a load of clothes, fed Tabby, and filled the bird feeders.

How’s that for multi-tasking, and all in the space of about 45 minutes?  (Yeah, I would’ve been faster, if I hadn’t’ve been talking on the phone.)  I like to call Loren each day about 2:00 p.m., just to make sure he’s all right.  He’s an enjoyable person to converse with, into the bargain. 

I was planning to work on the yard that day and then clean the house, but I hurt a rib Friday night, so I did machine embroidery on tea towels instead.  All I did was lean over in my chair to pick up Tabby’s food bowl, and, in leaning against the wooden arm of my chair, suddenly one rib gave way with an ugly noise, and it felt pretty much like someone slugged me in the ribs with a fist.  It was the same rib I broke years ago, and I hurt it again, every now and then.  I’ve been tiptoeing since Friday, trying not to breathe too deeply, or cough, or sneeze, or laugh. 

But I shouldn’t be complaining, when Aaron has a broken pelvis!

That afternoon, I took my customer’s quilt to the UPS Store.  It was quite a bit heavier than the last quilt, so it cost more to ship.  I think UPS here in Columbus is more expensive than USPS, though I haven’t compared exact boxes. 

Amy sent some pictures of the children, including Leroy holding a sparkler.  That reminded me of the time we handed Hester, age 3, a lit sparkler.  She stared, eyes wide, then threw it with all her might and main and took off like a deer, yelling, “RUN!”  

She thought it was like the firecrackers she’d been watching the neighbor kids light and throw, and would explode.

I got six more tea towels finished that day, and put a few more stitches in the Bucilla Butterfly quilt while my machine embroidered.  I have ten more tea towels to go, unless they multiply again like they did the last time, when I thought there were only six to do, and there were instead 18 when next I counted them.  The four with the bouquets go with the two I finished last Saturday.  The designs are from The Good Life collection by Debbie Mumm.  Her designs are always good ones, with stabilizing stitches under the satin stitches.  An embroidered piece stays much smoother, when there are stabilizing stitches.

After getting home from church yesterday afternoon, we had one of Larry’s Mexican omelets.  We were sitting there savoring the last few bites... when suddenly I noticed we had some new curtain décor in the living room – a Little Brown bat!  Hmmph, the audacity of the critter.

Larry twisted the curtain until the bat was enclosed in it, then removed curtain, rod, and all from the wall, carried it out the door, and let the bat go.  Being too close to the ground, it fluttered down to the porch.  The cement was hot in the afternoon sun, and we didn’t want the poor thing to roast to death, so Larry got a plastic shovel, gently scooped it up, and gave it a toss.  It flew away.

I mentioned this news to some friends, and several began worrying, and said we really needed to get to the doctor and get rabies vaccines.  One lady said she had a young doctor friend who said they were taught in medical school that anyone who has been in a room with a bat should get rabies shots.

Do those teachers think you get rabies if a bat hisses at you, or does a fly-by?  If one needed to get a shot every time one was in a room with a bat in order to ward off rabies, I’d have had rabies multiple times by now.

We have many Little Brown bats out here.  If we got rabies vaccines each time a bat got in the house or one got close to us outside, we’d be getting vaccines three times a week!

Okay, yes, I know that the vaccine doesn’t wear off that fast.  The duration of immunity afforded to humans by a two-injection vaccination course is between two to three years.  Following administration of a booster dose, recommended at one year, one study found 97% of immuno-competent individuals demonstrate protective levels of neutralizing antibodies at 10 years.  Those at high risk (in bat-infested areas, or those working with bats, such as zoologists) are recommended to get the vaccine every five years (some say every two years; others argue this is unnecessary, and possibly even harmful).

First, the bat acted normal.  That fact didn’t reassure a couple of people, who informed me that bats are rabies carriers, even when they manifest no symptoms.  One even told me that bats don’t get sick with rabies; they are carriers only.  Neither of those statements are true.  Here are the facts, from www.batworld.org:  “There is no evidence that bats can transmit rabies for an extended period without being ill.  Bats, like other mammals, become sick and eventually die from the disease.  All mammals can contract and carry rabies.  Bats are not asymptomatic carriers of the disease.  In reality, bats contract rabies far less than some other animals.”

Second, we didn’t touch him.  Third, no bat rabies have been reported in this county for three years.  In May of 2016, skunk rabies were reported; there are usually more skunk rabies than bat rabies.  I keep a watch on that website that tells the statistics... and we know the symptoms of rabies, and we never touch bats with our bare hands.

Did you know that 99% of human deaths from rabies worldwide is caused by exposure to rabid dogs?  In the US, the most commonly reported rabid animal is the raccoon, followed by skunks and bats. 

I check out this website periodically:  http://dhhs.ne.gov/Pages/srd_rabies.aspx

So far this year, there have been two cases of bat rabies in Nebraska, both in Lancaster County, some 75 miles to our east.  There have been 7 cases of skunk rabies and 2 cases of cat rabies, 300-335 miles to our west.  Last year, the nearest there were any reports of bat rabies was 45 miles southeast of us.  The last time there was a report of rabies in our county was in May of 2015.

We’ve never seen any animal acting oddly here in the country.  But quite a few years ago when we were still living in town, an opossum came strolling through the neighborhood, and if anyone got close, he snarled and hissed and marched straight at them, rather than away.  Now, opossums might act like that if they get cornered, but he wasn’t cornered.  I collected the children and called Animal Control, posthaste. 

I’d tell you The Rest of the Story, but I have no idea what it is; I’ve totally forgotten.  I do know that it is extremely rare for an opossum to contract rabies, because of their low body temperature.  It’s more likely it was a female, and she had brand-new babies in her pouch, and was just being protective.

Bats can eat 1,000 mosquitoes per hour.  That’s certainly good incentive for releasing them without harming them!  I’m not one for harming creatures, big or little, unless there’s an absolute, important reason.  Like if it’s a grizzly bear looming over me, just drawing back to swat me, for instance.  Then I will pull the trigger on my surface-to-air missile, ’cuz I like me better than I like the bear, never mind the fact that it would make an awesome photo op.

Here is a story about a 15-year-old girl who got rabies – and survived:  Surviving Rabies

She actually got bitten – and her family decided that treating it with hydrogen peroxide would do.  Good grief!  She nearly died. 

The concoction the doctors used to treat her is called the ‘Milwaukee Protocol’, as the girl was from Milwaukee.  Out of 36 rabies patients treated with the Milwaukee Protocol since then, five have survived.

That’s not very good odds – but it’s better than it’s been in the past, with zero survivors.  Those who do survive usually have serious residual deficits.  Doctors and researchers continue to work on treatments.  Rabies isn’t worth messing with! 

To all my worried friends:  We are careful.

Last night Larry went for a bike ride after we got home from church.  North of Monroe, he had a close call when an opossum ran out in front of him, and then didn’t know which way to go.  It was zigzagging in a ’possum’s way, looking back worriedly over first one shoulder and then the other -------- and Larry had his arms and hands on his aerobars, which have no brake levers on them.  It was too late to swerve, and too late to let go of the aerobars and grab the handlebars and brakes, so he just held on tight, went bumpity-bumping right over the possum ------- and managed to stay up and keep on a-going.

His ‘Map My Ride’ app tells him he was going anywhere between 22-25 mph when he hit the thing.  It also informed him that he went 23.6 miles in 1:24 hours, averaging 16.8 mph, burning 824 calories, and hitting a maximum speed of 34.7 mph.  Nifty little app.

A little while ago, after delivering a trailer-load of hay to someone, Larry and Teddy returned home on that same road, and they looked for an opossum that might have met its waterloo, but saw nothing.  They’re tough little critters (speaking of ’possums, not of Teddy and Larry) (well, they’re sorta tough, too, come to think of it) (but they’re not too awfully little, heh), so maybe it lived to tell the tale to its offspring when it got home.

Aaron is doing better, and even came to church last night, though getting in and out of their van was a bit of an ordeal for him, pain-wise.

I picked up Emma’s white-trimmed navy sailor dress and a piece of white-on-white fabric with which to lengthen the dress, as it’s too short for her.  She’s going to wear it to our Fourth-of-July church picnic tomorrow at Pawnee Park. 

When I returned the dress, Larry and Teddy were just leaving with five big round bales of hay on Larry’s trailer.  The baler is a ‘soft core’ bailer, which doesn’t make the center of the bale as tight as some.  They got that type because part of Teddy’s property is a slough with groundwater, and the hay is often a bit damp.  Hay will spoil if baled tightly when damp.  Also, it can be self-combusting, when tightly compacted.  The soft core keeps this from happening and allows the hay to dry without mildewing.

Tonight we went with Kurt and Victoria and Victoria’s friend Robin to watch fireworks at Ag Park.  We parked by Teddy and Amy and family, and watched the pyrotechnics together, which always makes it more fun.

Bedtime!

,,,>^..^<,,,        Sarah Lynn, frothing at the mouth         ,,,>^..^<,,, 

 

(Kidding, kidding!)  (I always have to say that, for those literal-minded dears who get all bent out of shape at my tomfoolery.)