Gatekeeping, experimenting with Ai, Grosbeaks, Smokey and bears
From Chuck Wiser, I write the words to share what my eyes see and my heart feels
Technically it is “day of” my Wrambling Writing albeit at 2:00 AM in the morning. I had retired for the evening at a reasonable time, got back up for a while, went back to bed but still couldn’t get to sleep, so here I am. I think my wife planted the idea of not being able to sleep last night when she told me that eating chocolate, or any other kind of sugar containing item would keep me awake. I did, and it did. As long as I’m awake anyway, I’m sitting here now munching on a chocolate bit filled cookie.
Andrew Harris has dubbed me the County Route 31 Gatekeeper given the frequency of my reporting of the activities on that road that joins Scio and Friendship with a bit of property in Amity snuggled in the middle for good measure. Highway related work along this road is once again in progress as culverts are being replaced. Yesterday I posted a “public service” Wrambling advising as to the diversion suggesting travel along the Back River Road to the intersection of Cty. Rte.31A upon which resides the Conservation Club in Belmont. Route 31A connects with Route 19 near the Dollar General and goes up over Corbin or Middaugh Hill to its intersect with 31 at the top of the hill. Route 31A must have been the primary road at one point in time historically, as I recall having to make a stop at a stop sign prior to continuing on Rte. 31 back in the 50’s and 60’s.
One early 70’s memory of that road brings to mind an evening spent playing cards with my wife’s aunt and uncle Clair and Harley Hills. They lived on the western end of the road from me, just east of the cemetery in Friendship. As we had been visiting it started snowing. When it came time to leave and return home to Scio we couldn’t make it up over the hill so had to turn around, go back into Friendship and take County Rte. 20 to its intersection with route 19 in Belvidere. County Rte. 20 and its connecting route 446 in Friendship used to be State Route 408.
Route 408 now only exists in Livingston County as a North/South Route connecting Dalton (Nunda) and Mt. Morris.
One head bumping episode in the garage the other day reminded me of my U.S. Navy days and the wearing of my “White Hat.” White hats are the standard uniform head covering utilized for normal non-working duties and as part of the “dress uniform.” The white hats were functional in two primary ways. One was to eliminate a visor “bill” that would obscure upward looking vision so as to avoid bumping your head on overhead ropes (lines), and also as an emergency flotation device should you happen to find yourself in the water. The hats could be inverted and “unfolded” to allow “capturing air” as it was brought into contact with the water in an inverted mushroom shape.
Fast forward to 8:00 AM.
I finally was able to Wramble, and write my way to sleepy so I discontinued my writing at 3 AM, retired (again) for the evening and managed to sleep until 7:30 this morning so I now continue my Wrambling.
As I write at this point, I was just startled completely to wakefulness as a Grosbeak hit the screened window behind me with claws out and momentarily was attached to the screen until it was able to flap its way loose. I couldn’t turn my head quickly enough to tell its gender.
This picture isn’t of the female Grosbeak that just startled me minutes ago, but now is a good time to introduce our feathered friend that apparently can’t, or just wont, fly. Its mode of travel is hopping, as most birds do as they walk, and she is quite mobile. I have seen this bird under our solar covers frame, beneath a feeder on the end of our garage, In the bush shown, and continuously hopping along from one end to the other of the lower porch rail 2 X 4 board. In this picture the Grosbeak is in the “fire bush” next to the rail where it hops. It is “likely” then able to transport itself to the ground under the heater and bird feeder previously noted.
We are overwhelmed, and grateful for the population explosion of the Grosbeaks. Apparently this years “fledglings” development has been very abundant as their presence has just about tripled at least. They, nor the Baltimore Orioles, haven’t left yet but the quantity of Orioles has diminished somewhat. “Fledgling fluttering” is still taking place as they can make it to the feeders but are still, in many cases, trying to get the parent to feed them. The parents ignore them considering their job is done. Eventually the fledglings give up the fluttering and start feeding on their own.
Once again, our backyard and the deck feeders have been the target of nocturnal visits from a bear. Last weekend we were visited and the bear forcefully pulled our caged feeder off the rail bending the hooks that hold it in place and also destroyed the feeder shown down on the lower pool deck. I can fix both, but it’s a nuisance. Sunflower seeds were scattered all over the deck as they had spilled out of the feeders. I think the bear was trying to take the feeder shown herein with it. We have had them “steal” suet cake feeders in the past. I love our back yard but do not appreciate the nocturnal visits.
This summer, so far, has been a swimming pool heaven. The pool temperature is now hovering in the high 80’s. I don’t swim for long periods of time, but get in and out of the pool often. You can see the end of the pool in the picture showing the damaged bird feeder.
Once again, we are under a cloud of smoke-filled atmosphere thanks to wildfires in Canada and Minnesota. I hadn’t yet been able to actually smell the smoke, but just as I’m finishing this, I can. The smoke gives a cloudiness even visible when the sun is shining. The “spread-ability” of these smoke particles of combustion remind me of just how vulnerable we would be if an enemy or adversary was to release a large-scale amount of poison into the air. Fortunately, the scope of the amount released would likely be huge and a deterrent to this happening. It makes one, or at least this one, think about how vulnerable we would, or at least could, be.
Last week I had tried to make an amending change to my Wrambling but I didn’t get it there in time to “meet the press.” Therefore, I will add it here and the motivation to do so frequently occurs.
I have found out, the hard way, that leaving an untended, but already opened 12 ounce “beverage container” untended. Two times this previous week I tipped the beverage up to take a sip and I managed to end up with more than liquid in my mouth. I can spit faster than a speeding bullet.
Having just used that once popular phrase I couldn’t recall what “50’s era” TV program it came from. My Google Search resulted in the following identification of the phrase.
AI Overview
The phrase “faster than a speeding bullet” originates from the iconic opening narration of the Adventures of Superman radio series that aired in the 1940s. It was popularized by the animated Fleischer Studios and cemented in pop culture by the 1950s George Reeves Adventures of Superman television show.
I’m still uncertain as to whether AI Assistance is a good thing or bad thing. When I quote something specific I like to know, and refer to, my source. AI Assistance doesn’t necessarily give out the information from where it made its assessment and thus reasoning. If I steal a piece of information from Funk and Wagner I like to credit it as a source. With AI you are not completely sure how much is factual historic data or AI Assistance formulating a response from its vast memory bank. Back in the 70’s and 80’s while teaching at Alfred State College the phenomenon of that technology was just being developed. I used to tell the students that all of my intelligence was artificial. They may not have believed what I was teaching them but they certainly believed my self-analysis.
As I near the end of this Wrambling I want to acknowledge a couple of people who swelled not only my head, but also my heart, with their comments regarding their normal reading of the Wellsville Sun and my articles therein. The first was one of the “counter ladies” at Tractor Supply. Upon checking out with my recent purchase I had to give my name to match up with my store shopping history and thus if any discounts would apply. When I gave her my name, she asked if I was “the Chuck Wiser that writes the Wramblings articles.” Upon my confession that I was, I swelled with pride as she advised how much she enjoyed my articles.
Anne Allen Cummins, the second to be thanked, was the most recent reader to comment on her pleasure derived from reading my Wramblings. I forewarned her that I might use her name in my next Wrambling. She didn’t say NO, so here is my added thanks to her along with those to “Tractor Supply lady.” Anne is married to David (Dave) Cummins, a Friendship, NY neighbor who also was a boyhood friend. I had mentioned Dave in a Wrambling not long ago with the story of our re-acquaintance when we ended up on the same ship while both were serving in the Navy in the 60’s. What was especially notable over that re-acquaintance was the fact that completely randomly two guys from the village of Nile, NY, with a population of about 125 souls, ended up on a ship with about that many sailors aboard, in a service branch with hundreds of thousands of people.
If the following topic is a repeat I apologize. I recall writing or noting how; when Emergency dispatch is calling for ambulance assistance, or announcing its departure and/or destination. Those in the vehicle are referred to as “souls on board.”
In the Wrambling writings above I used the word soul to designate people. I’ve picked up on that term based on frequent listening to my scanner calls wherein ambulance requests or assignments often refer to the gender and age of their “patients” and anyone else, as “Souls on board.” That term is helpful as information to help rescue workers etc. should they need to identify the number of occupants identifying people vs animals and/or equipment that might also be in the ambulance as it is enroute.
From Co-Pilot the “souls definition” used is; “In aviation and maritime operations, “souls on board” is an exact count of every living humans including passengers, flight crew, and infants on a vessel. The term is used in emergency situations to quickly communicate the total number of lives that may need to be rescued. The phrase traces back to 18th-century maritime traditions. Because sailing ships faced extreme dangers, captains had to account for every life. The term “souls” was used to avoid ambiguity between living human beings and cargo, and to serve as a constant reminder to the crew that they were responsible for human lives rather than just a logistical count.
When I started out with this week’s Wrambling I expected that it would be fairly short. It wasn’t, but I wanted to share all as written above.
As a late note, I now can smell the smoke from the wild fires and it isn’t pleasant. Hot, muggy and full of smokey air is less than appealing.
If you have any questions, comments or cares, please address them to me at IM.Wiserdad@gmail.com. I write to share what is on my mind or in my heart, and do so to be informative rather than for the attention or praise I get. But, it is fondly accepted, appreciated, and it fills my heart. You, all that are reading, is why I write.
