Good Fortune - I Doubt It

On July 3, 1981 the crew of the Valiant sailed out of Burnham Park Harbor (Chicago) with a destination of Michigan City, Indiana.

We had slept on board the night before so that we could get an early morning start. The Captain had set the departure time at 7am (give or take 15 seconds – the Captain has always believed in punctuality). We didn’t want to be standing on the dock at 7:02 waving farewell to the crew as they headed toward the mouth of the harbor and onto Lake Michigan (as I’d seen this happen before).

At first I didn’t understand why we were going to Michigan City for the Fourth of July; Chicago had a far better fireworks display. I had found, in the past, that it was unwise to question the Captain about matters such as this. Later that day I found out from my cousin (The Admiral) that the Captain (who would turn 40 years old on the Fourth) feared a surprise party and wanted to get out of town.

The Captain plotted (manually with a chart) and then set the course for Michigan City. There was a moderate breeze from the Northwest and it was predicted that we would get there in about 7 hours.

About half way there (mid-lake) the wind died and we were just moving with the waves. It was like being in the doldrums of the Sargasso Sea, but without the seaweed. The Captain said that we would wait a while before turning on the engines and that it was a good time to have lunch. As we ate, a swarm of flies descended on us. This was the middle of the lake, where did they come from? It seems that they had been on a board that was floating in the water near the boat.

The flies were not going for our food, they were going for us. We only had two fly swatters and by the time you would zap one fly; two more would take its place. The Captain turned on the engine (this was a drastic measure, as the Captain did not like to waste fuel)! These flies were biting us like the abominable Wisconsin Deer Fly (People from Chicago call them Kamikaze Flies; they have a 5 inch wingspan and dive right at you).

In a short time we had left the Sargasso Sea, the wind picked up and we were able to kill or get most of the flies off of the boat. It was smooth sailing for the rest of the trip to Michigan City and a good time was had by all. End of story.

But, it’s not the end of this Blog.

During my life I have been attacked by about every flying insect that is known to mankind (I believe the tsetse fly is the exception). I think that these insects innately know that if they come near me, I will attempt to kill them. So like the Kamikaze Deer Flies of Wisconsin, they will tempt the fates by attacking me first.

Although it has been a rainy spring and summer, I have yet to see a mosquito. The avian population and the small reptiles that inhabit our yard must be performing their primary function; insect elimination. I can put up with the squawking birds, croaking frogs and chirping lizards as long as they do their jobs by ridding me of the flying insect population.

Earlier this summer we were besieged by sand flies; these are sneaky little (about a sixteenth of an inch long) blood suckers that you do not see landing on you and biting you. They will leave a welt the size of a mosquito bite that itches like hell.

Next came the invasion of the Gnats. I don’t believe that they bite, but they do have a tendency to fly up your nose and into your eyes (and mouth, if open). This lasted for about a week; the birds and reptile probably finally heard me cursing them for not ridding me of the plague.

Last week, while my daughter was in Maryland, it was my assigned task to take care of the dogs (they need to be walked several times per day). On one of my care giving journeys I noticed a rather large group of flying insects attacking a flower bearing shrub in the back yard. They were butterflies. As far as I know butterflies do not bite humans.

As I neared the shrub, one of them flew directly at me and landed on the left sleeve of my shirt. I was walking one of the dogs at the time and therefore moving. This was of no concern to the butterfly. In fact he moved to my chest about an inch above my hearth. Don’t think for one minute that I didn’t consider smashing the thing before he moved on; I did. It shortly left to join the others in his group, which probably saved his life.

After walking the dogs I called a friend who has a large butterfly collection adorning the walls of his Rec-room. I told him the story and described the butterfly and he said that he had one of those things on his wall. I then asked him what its name is. He sez “How the hell should I know, I just buy them for decoration purposes.” Then he tells me that in some cultures, a butterfly landing on you is considered to be the harbinger of good fortune. These must be the same cultures that believe a bird defecating on you is good luck.

We’ll see!

The Beach Bum

An Unsolved Mystery - Solved

Thanks to my friend Al (Alfredo) I have spared myself from an embarrassing moment (talking to the neighbor about his tropical birds). Al left a comment on my Wednesday Blog about the new bird that has been driving me to the brink of insanity (a short trip). Contrary to popular belief, I do read all of the comments that are posted on The Beach Bum Report.

In his comment Al posted links to MP3 files of bird songs. The first one was right on the money. This was the bird that I have been hearing for the past two weeks. It is not a tropical bird as I had suspected, but a bird indigenous to North America.

It’s a big Woodpecker called the Pileated Woodpecker. This particular Woodpecker has decided to take up residence in my neighbor’s tree that overhangs the wooden fence between the two properties. It, the bird, at times will visit the trees in our yard; I hear the pecking on the tree behind my office (The Shed).


I first noticed it about three weeks ago when I heard a rapping/tapping sound emanating from the rear of the shed. At first, I thought that it was my son-in-law doing yard work. I went out to investigate and saw the largest Woodpecker that I had ever seen. The bird took one look at me and fled the area immediately.

Obviously the bird was angered by me making it depart our yard and has decided to remind me that paybacks are hell. It laughs and cackles every morning and afternoon; and it will do so for hours.

Cazzo – please ship that rifle as soon as possible.

The Beach Bum

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

It has been raining here in my part of “sunny Florida” for the past 5 days. It’s not like our summer rains which last about an hour on a daily basis; it’s an on and off all day affair. Rain is a good thing at this time of year, especially since we had an extremely dry March and April.

For years I was a very deep sleeper (I have slept through an earthquake that dislodged me from my bunk). In fact, my cousin “The Admiral” once said that anyone that could snore (I also have sleep apnea) as loud as I did and not wake himself up must be a very sound sleeper. Our “Captain” had this same ability; he slept through his snoring as well as mine. When you are in close quarters on a boat the nasal sounds of sleep seem to be magnified.

I am no longer a deep sleeper. I’ve always had a hard time falling asleep, but in the old days once I went down; I was down for the count. I use alcohol (a carbon molecule away from the gas Ether) to lull me into that never-never land. For the most part it works and is a lot less expensive and more pleasurable than taking Ambien (Zolpidem – see I actually pay attention to the commercials on television) on a nightly basis.

Every morning, shortly after daybreak, I awaken to the singing, chirpings and squawking of the birds that habituate the trees in our back yard. Not to mention the raucous noises emanating from our neighbor’s rookery (at least his tropical bird collection wait until mid-morning to start to annoy me).

Now I have new aggravating noises because of our recent rainfall.

It took me two additional Vodka drinks and an extra hour to fall asleep last night. I can’t blame this one on the birds; they were all sleeping as I should have been. I blame it on the rain.

Thunder or the pitter patter of rainfall doesn’t stop me from sleeping. These are normal noises to which I have grown accustomed. It’s the damn croaking frogs.

They start their singing shortly before midnight and continue until dawn (probably to keep the predator birds awake all night). Actually they are mating. The male frog sings to attract the female. As water is their source of life, the five days of rain gives them a lot of areas in which to procreate.

Unfortunately they are not baritones and basses like the Budweiser Frogs; they are all tenors or altos.

The mating ritual will last for a few more days and then I'll return to my bitching about the birds. At least I’ll drink less Vodka and get more sleep.

The Beach Bum

Shooting the Bird

The other day my friend Cazzo (AKA Mr. Clean) called me to gripe about his financial woes. He is in his upper sixties and draws full social security benefits. He also has his own home based business that is marginally profitable and works part-time in firearms section of a nearby Sporting Goods Store (his feet hurt after working and they probably also stink – I can empathize with this because for many years I worked in the standing position).

Our conversation covered many topics; both of us are proficiently adept at changing the subject in mid conversation. To keep the conversation pleasant we usually stay away from politics; he’s a Republican and I am a Conservative Liberal (or possibly a Liberal Conservative). He has called me a switch hitter.

The topic of our conversations usually reverts to the time that we spent in Africa together. The friends that we knew and places that we had been, with an emphasis on the bars and brothels that I frequented. He’s still in denial!

In our latest telephone conversation I asked a question that he couldn’t answer; I can’t either.

It is a well know fact among my friends that I do not particularly like things that fly. This includes, but is not exclusive to, insects and birds.

The question that I posed was about the old 1940’s and 1950’s movies and television programs that took place in the African jungles; especially the Tarzan movies and Ramar of the Jungle on television.

When strangers (usually bad persons) entered the jungle, the birds would begin chattering (sounding like laughter), next the Chimpanzees would start to chatter and then the Elephants would start to trumpet. This would warn the hero that impending danger was on its way. This was an excellent, though primitive, communications system.

But what is the name of the bird that makes those sounds? Cazzo didn’t know the answer.

Since we were in the Ethiopian highlands, and not the jungle, we had never heard these birds or saw a Chimpanzee (although there were lots of Baboons that would shriek at you and throw rocks – nasty primates). Even when I traveled to the Kenya wildlife preserve in 1968, I didn’t see a Chimp nor hear these birds.

I have always wondered if those birds really existed (or were made up by Hollywood sound effects crews).

Last week I got my answer; they exist. My neighbor (who raises tropical birds for fun and profit) has one, but I still haven’t asked him the name of the bird.

The bird has been driving me crazy for more than a week and I’m waiting for Tarzan to come and rescue me. Or maybe I should just buy a rifle from Cazzo’s gun shop.

The Beach Bum

A New Phobia

I read an article in last Sunday’s Saint Petersburg Times that frightened me.

A female tourist from Ohio was wading waist deep in the Gulf of Mexico when a Pelican swooped down and attacked her. She required 26 stitches inside and outside of her mouth. This incident happened close to my old home on Treasure Island, Florida.

Unlike Gulls, Pelicans are usually not aggressive birds. They’ll rarely come close to something larger them themselves. I’ve seen Gulls attack small unattended children who were eating a snack on the beach. The Gulls were not going after the child but the food that the child was eating. The worst that the child received was a peck on the hand.

Pelicans can be beggar birds. I have seen them wait patiently for a fisherman to filet a fish and throw them the scraps. But they never come close enough for you to touch them. Herons and Egrets will; some will actually eat out of your hand.

I have never been afraid of birds (Ornithophobia). I have too many other Phobias to worry about. Flying insects yes, but birds no!

Now I’m beginning to wonder. If Pelicans are becoming aggressive, what will other more aggressive birds do?

The newspaper article played the incident down saying it was a freak accident. They don’t want the tourist to be worried about the birds. We already have had Shark attacks, Sting Ray attacks and Alligator attacks here in Florida.

So why does this Pelican attack scare me?


In 1963 I saw Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds”. It scared me! Every time that I saw a group of birds hanging around, usually on a telephone wire and watching me, I felt nervous. But realizing that it was just the thought of what I had seen in the movie, and not the birds themselves that terrified me, I dismissed this fear.

Now I’ll have to rethink my stand on Ornithophobia.

The Beach Bum

For The Birds

Another major difference between Nowhereville and Treasure Island is the variety of Avian Life Forms (and yes you are reading it correctly – I did not misspell the word Alien).

On Treasure Island we had a large number of water fowl. Years ago I had categorize the Island birds into three major groups; Free Birds aka Beggar Birds, Snow Birds (the non-human type) and Thieving Birds.

The most prevalent Island bird is the Sea Gull. A friend of mine calls them “rats with wings”. The Gull actually falls into two of the aforementioned categories; Free and Thieving. So do Pelicans. Although the Pelican will fish for his dinner if all else fails. Herons and Egrets will also fish, but if a hand out is available they will sit there and beg.

In fact, one older Blue Heron would actually tap its beak on one of my neighbor’s doors. The neighbor would then feed the bird, which ate directly from her hand. Visiting friends who had seen this event were amazed.

The largest group of Snow Birds is the Monk Parrots. They come down (from the Carolinas and Georgia) in October on their way to the Keys and return back in late spring. Next to the Gull these are the noisiest birds that I have heard. And like the Gull they enjoy taking a dump on any newly wash vehicle. I didn’t wash my car for more than three years and never found any bird shit on it. My one neighbor would wash his SUV once at least once a week, but no matter where he was parked, it would be covered with bird droppings by the end of the day.


Here in Nowhereville, I rarely see a gull, as we are 8 miles inland.

While sitting on the Pool Deck I have a good observation point for the back yard. I’ve have seen Robins, Blue Jays, Woodpeckers, Crows, Cardinals, Finches, Mockingbirds and even a Hawk. Most of these birds eat insects, which is good because there are plenty insects here for them to eat. Except for ants and Palmetto Bugs, it’s was slim pickings for the birds on the beach.

Two of the Mocking Birds that frequent my daughter’s yard have interesting calls. One imitates a small dog barking and the other sounds like a telephone ringing. The telephone bird drives me to my wits end. I often get up to answer the phone when it isn’t even ringing.

To top all this off, my daughter’s next door neighbor raises exotic birds. They have some of the strangest bird calls that I have ever encountered. I have never seen these birds so I have named them by their calls.

The first and most aggravating bird is what I call the “Rusty Gate” bird. This bird’s call is shrill and sounds like an old gate opening and closing. This may go on for hours in the morning. It’s almost as bad as hearing fingernails scratching on a blackboard.

I’ve named the second bird the “Smoke Detector” bird. This bird’s call sound like a high pitch beep. Similar to the sound that a Smoke Detector makes when it’s battery needs replacing. This happens for about 2 hours every morning unusually about a minute apart.

Then there is the “Mars Attacks” bird. This bird makes me laugh because each time that I hear it, I think of the Tim Burton movie of the same name. Its call sounds like the Martians in that movie; Aak, Aak Aak, Aak Aak Aak. This bird will usually continue until mid afternoon.

I don’t miss the Gulls or the Parrots, but some these bird calls are much worst.

The Beach Bum