Song Birds Part 2

Eric and I are empty nesters for the second time. Our baby birds have left the nest and gone in search of their own trees singing new, original songs of joy. I feel sadness at their loss but joy that they survived and eagerness to see where their wings will take them.

Of course, there were some scary moments as we watched our babies grow into teenagers in a brief span of four days.. One evening, while mama was out searching for food, the babies were in danger from a stray, black cat slinking along the fence in anticipation of an easy evening meal. I worried all night that the cat would return for a free meal but, thankfully, our growls and scary gestures were sufficient to keep him away.

And then there was the afternoon two days ago when I noticed two little, furry clumps snuggled together on the short grass beneath the tree. They were so still that I was afraid neither of them had survived gliding practice from nest to ground. However, upon closer inspection I was relieved to find their little downy feathers rising and falling with each tiny breath. I suffered another sleepless night in fear the cat would return or the the lawn mower man would make his random, surprise visit.

The baby birds and their parents became our dinner entertainment last night. The fledglings were pecking for their dinner - I hope they ate lots of the many millipedes that invade our house - when  Mama and Daddy came home from work with "take-out"  - fresh worms  -  and chirps of admonishment to their teenagers  to "make better choices."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, cats and pit vipers are NOT your friends!" squawked Mama.

Consequently, Daddy posted himself as "lookout" in the weeping willow tree while Mama gave beginning flying lessons. The plump, eager fledglings reminded me of little 737s practicing "touch and goes" as they ran along the grass, flapping their wings until they were airborne for about five seconds and then dropped back to the ground to repeat the whole process again.

Tonight we're remembering how to be empty nesters again. I hope our little birds will remember to send a quick text message or make a brief call when they are in the area. We would love to hear from them.

Song Birds in Lumut

I've never paid much attention to birds but it's hard to ignore them here. They sing ALL the time. And for someone like me who is very distracted by musical sounds and rhythms - I never have been able to write, read, or study with music playing in the background - the music of the birds catches my attention and makes it difficult for me to sleep, concentrate on writing blogs, and wonder if the heat of the tropics is gradually making me go nuts like Charles Marrow in Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness.

Here's bird # 1's song:


He (or she, I don't know which) starts singing most mornings at about 2:30 am. He's loud, persistent, demanding, attention grabbing, and relentless like a piccolo in a marching band until about 10:30 pm. I don't know what he looks like but I think he and his numerous buddies - wouldn't you think he'd need help to party for 20 hours? - hang out in the tree in the abandoned lot next to our house. I find myself at 4:00 am trying to sing The Star Spangled Banner (isn't that the song to sing to get a broken record out of one's head?) just to try and get back to sleep.

Here's bird #2's song:


He is much more polite, gentle in tone, reflective, musical, and kind like a slow flute playing in the mid to lower register. He sings during daylight hours, especially mid-morning and mid to late afternoon. He can be calming, just like an afternoon cup of chamomile tea or a nap.






Here's a picture of some baby birds I discovered  in the nest in our small palm tree:



I thought the nest had been abandoned but obviously not.

The discovery of these baby birds has made me wonder the following:

Could the songs of the different birds be related - maybe one song is the mama and the other song is the daddy?

Are they singing for joy or voicing their concerns about how they will feed, clothe and educate their babies?

Are mama and daddy out partying? There is no one looking after the babies.

Will they stop singing when the babies leave the nest or will they sing louder as "empty nesters?"


Can't get the thoughts about song birds out of my head......

Watching the Olympics in a Country with no Winter

I love winter! As a Colorado native, winter played a major role in most of my memories: learning to ski on a rope tow, sledding 2 miles down a country lane and being pulled to the top behind a truck, building giant snow men with large carrot noses, stuffing cold snowballs down friends' jackets, meeting my husband in Telluride with dollar sized snowflakes falling on our eyelashes and noses, skipping Christmas gift giving to take winter ski vacations, turning our pajamas inside out praying for snow days and teaching our kids (and thousands of strangers) how to ski, ....Yes, I love winter.

As a matter of fact, I've never missed a year of skiing since I turned 6, until this year. Therefore, thank goodness for the  Sochi Winter Olympics. The Olympics are NOT the next best thing to being there, but there are better than nothing. Starting last Thursday, we've adopted while flipping through all four channels (all titled Olympic Broadcast Network) to find which event we are going to enjoy for the night.

Watching the Olympics in  Malaysia is different from the United States for the following reasons:

1. There are no commercials during the events. We see all competitors complete an event. Then we sit and watch the screen with the athletes while they wait for the judges to post their scores - no commercial breaks. In the case of some events like Snowboard Slopeslide (which I loved, by the way) , the long wait for scores it worth it to see Americans win gold for both men and women.

2. There are no "human interest" stories. We have no idea which athletes had extraordinary emotional or physical struggles to get where they are today. We just see straight up competition - nerves, disqualifications, close races, lucky wins, etc.

3. There are no set schedules so each upcoming event is a surprise. The video guide for the channels is unreliable. Even if the guide says there will be Alpine Slalom at 19:45, it doesn't necessarily there will  be anything showing let alone Olympics. On the plus side, we get to watch the opening ceremony again...and again...and again...

4. There are new sports idioms to master. Because the announcer is probably British, he has a very different style and uses many new phrases. Either I don't hear well, or he just makes a lot of mistakes an announces the wrong winners, so I don't trust the results until I see the athletes on the podium for the flower ceremony. (What is this "flower ceremony" anyway. Where are the medals? We haven't seen a medal ceremony yet.)

Watching the Olympics in Malaysia is interesting for the following reasons:

1. This country has no winter.
2. This country has no Winter Olympic team.
3. I don't know anyone else who is watching the Olympics.
4. It feels like I could fry an egg on the sidewalk outside so it's hard to imagine needing warm clothes or walking on snow.
4. I motivated to work on my ski technique, drink a beer in a ski lodge after making some good turns, and buy some new cute ski poles with neon green handles but there is no place to go for "winter."

Watching the Olympics in Malaysia is great for the following reason:

I'm NOT cold. Watching those Olympic slalom racers unbuckle their Lange boots as soon as they hit the bottom of the hill, I'm reminded that I unbuckle every run, too, hoping to warm up my feet. Sitting here on my couch, I'm thinking, "It's nice to be warm!"

Gong Xi Fa Cai = Lovely Long Weekend

The Chinese New Year provided a great opportunity to head to the east coast of Malaysia for a relaxing get-a-way. I chose Kuantan because Google Maps led me to believe it is closest city that we could drive to that has both a beach and a reputable hotel. The estimated travel time was 5 1/2 hours so we guessed it would be closer to 8 with traffic and inadequate roads. We prepared ourselves with good-luck mandarin oranges, a read aloud book, prayers for safety, and lots of patience.

I should mention that Eric and I are getting a lot more comfortable driving here in Malaysia. We've figured out that the maximum time behind the wheel either of us can handle before we change drivers is two hours. The roads are extremely rough, the shoulders are narrow, and the drivers consider a distance between cars of 18 inches more than sufficient to make snap decisions at 110 km/hour.(70 mph). When Eric drives we do better if I read a book out loud so I'm not constantly gripping the door handle or slamming on my imaginary brake as he makes two lanes into three and makes sure nobody can cut him off. When I drive, Eric takes a nap and I take the slow lane rigidly adhering to the  one-car-length-for-every-10-miles-per-hour-of-speed (as prescribed in the Colorado Driver's Training Manual I used to pass my first writing exam) distance between me and the vehicle in front. As you can imagine, I always have to keep adjusting my distance because lots of cars see the empty space in front, pull in  light a cigarette, roll down the window, throw the empty pack outside, and blow gentle smoke rings of contentment as we lollygag in the slow lane no longer able to garner enough speed to reenter the race track.

But I digress..back to Kuantan...We arrived just under our estimated drive time of 8 hours and in time to walk along the clean, fine sand beach, stroll along a jungle path among monkeys enjoying their 5 star dinner from happy tourists, and sip several adult beverages at a cute sea-side bar built in the ruins of a Vietnamese refugee sampan. We enjoyed a delicious rib-eye steak and beef lasagna (my first here in Malaysia) at La Casa, a cute, bustling newer Mediterranean restaurant near our hotel.

We awoke early, grabbed a coffee and a muffin and biked north about 40 km along the South China Sea to Cherating. We found a Malaysian hotel/restaurant located on the beach and ordered some local specialties: char kway teow which is similar to Phad Thai, and Tom Yam Soup but with more Malay flavor rather than Thai/lemongrass spice. There was even a cute tiger-stripped cat who thoroughly enjoyed the heads of our shrimp. We had a little difficulty with language here. I ordered a fresh orange juice and Eric ordered a fresh orange and mango juice. He got two glasses of juice - one orange and one mango - not mixed.

In our typical vacation style we squeezed as much as we would into the remainder of the afternoon: a swim, a trip to the spa, a game of tennis (6 - 0 me!), and a bike ride back to the same restaurant - it was THAT good.

After a good night's sleep, and an Egg McMuffin (yes, we've gotten a little tired of the hotel buffets of fish porridge, spicy fish rice, spicy fish noodles) and a coffee, we biked about 20 km south along the same sea. We even found some tiny kampung (village) roads through the thick jungle vegetation to shelter us from the blazing sun.

Our drive home was uneventful and even a little quicker because the holiday actually doesn't end until tomorrow afternoon. Gong Xi Fa Cai!