These aren't the ducks, but they were wandering through my backyard one evening last week. We noticed them while we were sitting at the table eating dinner. They weren't too excited about me coming outside though, so they waddled off in the opposite direction, making it hard to get any close up photos. Perhaps they were frightened by my knife and frying pan... Not sure.

These guys were kept safe from my kitchen gear, because they were safely enclosed inside of the rhino exhibit at the crazy sign zoo.

Posted by omar at 6:59 AM | Read entire post | Comments (11)

In case you didn't see the announcement posted here yesterday, the ducks have hatched. Four ducklings were seen peeking out from under their mom's wing, though by the time we had a camera handy, only one duckling was sticking his head out.

Approximately 5 hours later, when I returned home from work, they were gone. All that's left is the hole she dug in my mulch, a handful of broken eggs, and some feathers.

Since day one, I wanted the ducks to leave my yard. BUT, one of two reasons why I didn't go smash those eggs myself early on is because I thought it would be cute to see the ducklings walking around my yard after they hatched. The other reason is because the egg mess left over would have been totally icky and who would have cleaned that up? SHO NUFF not me.

The fact that they left before I ever got to see them stroll around leaves me feeling very cheated. Yes, we were warned that they would leave soon after the babies hatched in search of water. But I expected "soon" to last longer than a workday. Mom Duck, you used me. We went out of our way to not bother you while you sat on your eggs in my beautiful yard, and you repay us by leaving before we can even get a decent picture.

Believe this, Mom Duck: if I see you back in my yard next year, I'm not going to bother calling Animal Control or the Department of Environmental Conservation. I'm calling the head cook over at the China Gate restaurant up the road.

Posted by omar at 6:54 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

We're starting to get worried. The mallard incubation period supposedly lasts "just under a month," 26-30 days. But I'm concerned that the widely fluctuating temperatures might have done some damage to the eggs (over the past month, temperatures have ranged from around 20 degrees F to just over 90). And though they're not actually late yet, they are right up against the higher limit of the normal incubation period. It'll either be within the next few days, or we're going to have a sad story to tell.

Though, now that I think about it, that story would make a decent movie: a female escapes an environment where rape and necrophilia are prevalent in search of a better life, gets knocked up, finds what certainly looks like paradise (my lawn), hits a low point when her babies aren't born, then gets eaten by the owners of paradise. The end.

Hang on - my phone's ringing, and I think it's Spielberg calling me back...

Posted by omar at 6:46 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

The egg count is up to (at least) 4. Mom duck sits on them all morning, and usually is gone all afternoon and evening. She covers up the eggs with mulch when she's gone - as if mulch is a substitute for the warmth of a parent?

As the Wikipedia article said, the male ducks haven't been around as much anymore. They must be... busy elsewhere.

Posted by omar at 3:08 PM | Read entire post | Comments (22)

For the past week or so, we've been seeing a few ducks wandering around the yard. I found this a bit odd, because we have no kind of water within 3/4 of a mile of our house (and even that is just a small creek). But when we've seen them, it's always been brief. They'd fly in, walk around for a minute, then fly away.

That is, until Friday morning, when the wife saw two ducks in our front yard. She wanted to take a picture, so she went to get her camera. When she returned, only one duck was in the yard. So she opened the door to take a picture. In the process, she startled the female duck who was sitting 3 feet from our front door - next to her new nest, containing two eggs.

I'm no lover of nature, but I have no negative feelings about ducks. But I don't want them raising a family right outside my front door. Do ducks get aggressive when they are guarding eggs? I didn't know. Because of that uncertainty, I didn't want that in my yard at all, not to mention a part of my yard that I can't possibly avoid.

So I called local Animal Control. When I told them the animals were ducks, they referred me to the local Department of Environmental Conservation. The guy at the DEC just about laughed me off the phone. He assured me that it is highly unlikely that the ducks will get aggressive. He said that the eggs will hatch in 20-25 days, and then they'd all go away in search of water. Then he laughed some more before hanging up the phone.

By late Friday, I had pretty much convinced myself that having these ducks around might not be so bad. It'll be cute to see the little ducklings all following their mom around and stuff, right? Then, everything changed. I read the following text on the Wikipedia page on mallards:

Mallard breeding behaviour

Mallards form pairs only until the female lays eggs, at which time she is left by the male. The clutch is 8–13 eggs, which are incubated for 27–28 days to hatching with 50–60 days to fledging. The ducklings are precocial, and can swim and feed themselves on insects as soon as they hatch, although they stay near the female for protection. Young ducklings are not naturally waterproof and rely on the mother to provide waterproofing. Mallards also have rates of male-male sexual activity that are unusually high for birds. In some cases, as many as 19% of pairs in a Mallard population are male-male homosexual (Bagemihl 1999).

When they pair off with mating partners, often one or several drakes will end up "left out". This group will sometimes target an isolated female duck — chasing, pestering and pecking at her until she weakens (a phenomenon referred to by researchers as rape flight), at which point each male will take turns copulating with the female. Male Mallards will also occasionally chase other males in the same way. (In one documented case, a male Mallard copulated with another male he was chasing after it had been killed when it flew into a glass window (Moeliker 2001[2]).

Deadbeat dads? Hetero and homosexual (gang) rape? Necrophilia? Illegal drug use?* Makes you wonder what these three male mallards were doing while sitting just outside my property line:

I should have stuck with my initial reaction. These ducks must go.

---
* I just made up the part about drug use, but suddenly it doesn't seem so far-fetched, does it?

Posted by omar at 9:23 PM | Read entire post | Comments (14)

On Thursday, I went out to photograph a baseball game not far from home. It was an OK game, nothing spectacular. I did get a handful of decent photos (click the Flickr photos link above if you're interested, but that's not the point of this post). While I was happily shooting away, I heard a spectator next to me gasp.

"A MOUSE!" she shrieked.

Slightly startled, I took my eyes from the game to see what the fuss was about. I saw something dart into a small hole leading under the dugout. A moment later, an all too familiar face peered out at me.

"You son of a..." I started. He ducked away in his hole. Before doing so, I'm pretty sure he also gave me the finger. It's hard to tell though, because he's got pretty small fingers. I'm working under the assumption that he did.

"Excuse me?!" the lady replied.

"No, I'm sorry. Not you. That there, that was no mouse. It was a vole."

"That wasn't a mole," she replied. "That was a mouse!"

"No, I said VOLE, with a V. Mice have bigger eyes and longer torsos and..." sensing the glaze forming over her eyes, I stopped. I tried to go back to focusing on the game, but I couldn't. Two innings later, I decided that I had lost enough of my focus. I packed up my stuff and left. I got to my car and found a hastily written note tucked under my windshield.

Omar:
Did I find a new home with way better grass than your place, or am I just following you wherever you go? Wouldn't you like to know? HahahahahahHAHAHAHAHA.

Watch your back.

Sincerely,
your worst nightmare

P.S. omarphillips.net jumped the shark back in February. You're nothing without me.

Posted by omar at 6:18 AM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

Several days ago, I noticed what appeared to be bicycle tracks going through my lawn. Now, I was a kid once, and I remember biking through that old guy's lawn to cut 3 minutes off of my ride to 7-Eleven. This is what kids do. The old guy would frequently yell at us as we rode through his lawn, and though I don't remember exactly when it happened, there came a point when fear kicked in. From that point on, we stopped riding through his lawn, because that dude looked crazy.

While I do hope to one day be a crotchety old man who yells at neighborhood kids, I'm simply too young to do it now. Let's face it, I'm hip. The kids think I'm one of them. I have an iPod, I pronounce Target "tarJAY," I no longer own any VHS tapes, and I even have a myspace account. I'm not sure it gets any hipper. So if I were to yell at the kids, I'm pretty sure they'd sooner try to challenge me to a fist fight or a DDR battle than avoid my turfgrass.

I decided that since I'm not yet at the yelling stage, I could try threatening signs. One of the houses in my neighborhood as a child had a bold "BEWARE OF DOG" sign on the forward-facing side of a fenced in area beside their garage. The fence was high enough to prevent kids from seeing in, and I never actually saw or heard a dog in there. (In fact, I don't know that I ever saw a person on that property.) It was the type of house that didn't look kept, it was always kind of dark, and there was always one broken down stationwagon out in front. It was gloomy looking enough for me to reason that if there was actually a dog, it probably hadn't eaten in a few days, it would be very angry, and there's no way that fence would have kept it from killing me. If it had been a choice between going through that yard or taking 3 more minutes to go pick up a pack of Garbage Pail Kids cards and a Slurpee, I SHO NUFF would have chosen to take 3 more minutes.

In my case, I couldn't pull off the "BEWARE OF DOG" sign, even if there was no dog. There'd be no place to even pretend there's a dog, and I'm not willing to put a broken down car out front. I considered a "TRESPASSERS MAY BE SHOT" sign, but I'm not really prepared to follow through on that. Then there was the more lawful "TRESPASSERS MAY BE SUBJECT TO MERCILESS TICKLING" sign I found, but who's going to be scared of that? In fact, that might encourage a certain segment of the population.

So, after careful consideration of local laws and what is considered neighborly behavior, I came up with this:

(Thanks to RaJ for pointing me to this article.)

We'll see how brave those kids are now...

Posted by omar at 6:30 AM | Read entire post | Comments (23)

So, remember that picture of the new hole in the ground that I found? When I took it, I was standing right about where my new best friend is sitting in this picture:

(It's blurry because it was taken with no flash, in the late evening, through a sheer window covering. I didn't want to scare him away.)

I don't know who this animal belongs to, but I want to make it clear to them that the "KEEP YOUR DAMN ANIMALS OUT OF MY YARD" signs do not apply to you. This cat is welcome to patrol my yard at any time.

Posted by omar at 6:02 AM | Read entire post | Comments (13)

So, I cleaned out my garage today. I took everything out, even the old bicycles that haven't been ridden since the Clinton administration, and put it all on the driveway. I thoroughly cleaned the floor, paying particular attention to the corners, where the most junk tends to accumulate. Finally, I cleaned everything up and put it back in the garage.

Later on, I mowed the back lawn. After that, I trimmed the grass around the house, deck, "rock garden," and air conditioner. I raked up some leaves that had gotten left back in the fall.

Though I'm sure you're all terribly interested in more details of the totally rad things I did today, I bring up these particular activities for a reason. In doing all those things, I did not see one single trace of the vole. No poop under the lawn mower or in the corner of the garage, no pathways leading under the deck or under the air conditioner, nothing. Given how obvious the vole's presence has been in previous spring seasons, this development is very surprising. Frankly, I'm not sure what to make of it.

I'm going with the theory that he finally listened to me and moved on to my neighbor's yard.

Posted by omar at 10:24 PM | Read entire post | Comments (10)

On Christmas day, half of our outdoor Christmas lights stopped working. We didn't give it much thought at the time, we figured a bulb blew out or something. At least it happened on Christmas day, rather than happening three weeks prior when we put the lights up.

Fast forward to late last week. The wife took advantage of the unseasonable warmth to go remove the lights and put them away. In doing so, she discovered this:

A small section of wire seems to have been chewed off. I don't have proof, but I'm guessing it's the same fellow who tried to sell drugs to your little sister.

Posted by omar at 6:11 PM | Read entire post | Comments (15)

Last night, the wife was checking our latest bank statement, as she does every month. As she was going through it, she noticed a $500 charge that neither of us could account for. The recipient of the money, according to the statement, was an ambiguous "TRC." We went nuts trying to figure out what the heck that was, and we both drew blanks.

Curious, and frankly a bit angry, I called the bank this morning to get to the bottom of the situation. The representative I spoke with was very helpful. She pulled up my account, and she let me know the date of the charge. She said that TRC was showing up on her machine as "The Rodent Club."

"This is clearly some kind of mistake, as I am certainly not any sort of member or affiliate of any sort of rodent club," I stated.

"It was directly debited from your account, I don't have much more infor -- oh wait, I do have a contact phone number for that organization," she offered. I took down the phone number and called.

"I'm calling to inquire about why your organization took $500 from my checking account." I could have been a little bit nicer, but I was a bit miffed by this point. She collected my information and put me on hold for a few minutes while she looked into it.

She came back and said, "Sir, this money was taken out per the donation form you filled out last month. You said your name is Omar Phillips?"

"Yes, it is."

"Of (address)?"

"Yes, but I didn't fill out any donation form."

"Sir, I have the form right here in my hand. It's filled out with your contact information, and it looks like you gave us a card number ending in ####. Oh, it also says the donation is to be given in the name of your friend, Bill... Thayvol?"

"Bill who? I don't know anyone by that name, and I damn sure didn't fill out any forms!"

"I'm sorry, I may be butchering his last name. Tayvol? Theevoli? I don't know, it's spelled T-H-E-V-O-L-E."

I dropped the phone. That son of a...

---
(Those who are newer to the site might not be familiar with my arch nemesis, who is responsible for the incident in this post. PLEASE take a moment and read these posts. It will all make much more sense.)

Posted by omar at 10:35 PM | Read entire post | Comments (17)

I was headed out to mow my lawn yesterday, and I noticed an envelope resting against my lawn mower. I picked it up, the envelope had my name written on the outside. The garage door was (and had been) closed, so I wasn't sure where it came from. My curiosity got the best of me, so I opened it. It read:

---

Dear Omar,

I know you haven't heard much from me in a while, so I just wanted to drop you a note to let you know that I'm still around. I had to move again, as the spot under the deck was a little too accessible to the neighborhood cat (by the way, nice touch leaving the bowl of milk by the steps). I've found a great spot underneath your air conditioner, it's private and just the right size:

Anyway, I wanted to discuss our last encounter. After I read about it on your blog, I was a little upset. First at you, because I thought you made me seem uncharacteristically cruel. As I thought about it though, I realized that it was pretty out of character for me to threaten to burn your garage. I may have sold drugs, I may not respect the sanctity of marriage, I may call you names after your feeble attempts to kill me. But I never intended to do anything to bring harm to anyone other than you. Your kid is cute, and I know your wife's got it going on (wink wink), so I wouldn't want anything to happen to them.

So if the gas can thing freaked them out, let them know I'm... I'm sorry.

You, on the other hand, your ass is grass. And you can take that to the bank, my friend.

Sincerely,
The Vole

P.S. And while I've got you delivering messages, tell Jasmine I said "daddy will see you soon, babydoll! Good luck on the bar!"

P.P.S. Regarding your latest poll, I prefer to poop in the early evening. Check under your lawn mower for proof, it's fresh!

Posted by omar at 12:15 PM | Read entire post | Comments (24)

We had a guy come over the other night to do some landscape work in our yard. There were three bushes that we were itching to get rid of, but due to their size and type, it was difficult to remove them ourselves. So as he's popping out a juniper bush from the side of our garage, we heard him exclaim something. We went out to see what was the matter. He said that as he was tipping the bush on its side, a mouse fell out of it and ran away. Inside the bush, it looked like there was some sort of nest.

"Mouse?" I asked. "Little brown guy, beady eyes, about yay big?"

"Yeah, something like that," he replied.

I ran inside, got my laptop, brought it out, and showed him a picture. "Was this the 'mouse'?"

"Yes, that's it! You've had a problem with them before?"

"That's no mouse. Son of a ..." I darted in the house to put on shoes. On my way back out, I grabbed the only weapon I could find - an old broomstick. "Which way did he go?"

With a bit of a "you're crazy" look on his face, he pointed around the back of the garage. I crept slowly around the corner. There he was - the vole. I stopped.

He looked up.

"So we meet again," I said. "Or really, for the first time."

"Way to mess up the classic Spaceballs line, idiot," said the vole. "Got some more peanut butter for me? Crunchy this time, like I asked?"

"I see your wit matches your penmanship," I snapped back. "Let's see what good your penmanship does you against this here broomstick." I pulled it out and got in the ready position.

Important Note: Sorry to interrupt the story, but I wasn't sure if everyone would be familiar with the "ready position." Just imagine a guy standing ready to fight, but with a stick in his hand. That's it.

I slowly stepped towards him. "I've been waiting a long time to take this broomstick and --"

"Do you smell something?" interrupted the vole. He made sniffing motions in the air.

"What?"

"Smells like... gasoline, maybe?" Out from behind him, he pulled out a container of gas.

"Wouldn't it be a shame if you took another step closer and your garage caught on fire?" asked the vole, with a grin.

"OK, first, that can is bigger than you." I said. "How the crap did you have it behind you without me seeing it? Second, gasoline doesn't spontaneously combust at 61 degrees. It's not like you have --"

"Matches?"

He continued. "Now let me tell you how this is going to work. You're going to put the stick down, and back the (*edited*) up. Then, you're going to watch me run underneath your back deck. Finally, you'll get even more pissed off because you know that I will establish a new, much bigger home there, now that Chachi the landscaper ruined my old one in the bush - AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT. Got it, Daniel-san?" (I was still in my ready position.)

I put the stick down, and I took a step back. The vole darted underneath my deck.

I haven't seen him since. Damn the vole. Damn him.

Posted by omar at 10:42 PM | Read entire post | Comments (10)

Back on April 20th, I introduced you to my nemesis, the vole. Since that time, a lot has happened. Read on.

Real spring weather finally arrived, grass was beginning to re-grow in the areas where the vole had eaten/trampled it. I had seen no vole-like activity in a couple of weeks. Better still, I have seen a neigborhood cat prowling around my yard over the past few days. "That SOB is as good as dead," I said, to nobody in particular. "The vole is gone."

Then came this past Sunday. I was doing some mild cleaning in my garage. I wheeled my lawn mower out onto the driveway only to uncover a bunch of vole poop pellets underneath where the mower was. I had mowed on Friday, the mower had only been sitting there since then. This was fresh. The vole has been hanging out in my garage.

My hunter instincts kicked in. I set a trap in the garage with some tasty Peter Pan Extra Creamy peanut butter on it. I damn near trapped myself, it looked so tasty. I set it carefully along the base of the wall in my garage. Then I waited.

On Monday morning, I eagerly went to the garage to check the trap. No dead vole. Worse yet, the peanut butter was gone, but the trap had not been sprung. Next to the trap was an index card propped against the wall. My jaw dropped as I read the message:

Of all the things the vole has done in the past, he has never openly mocked me as he did this week.

Now, it's personal.

Posted by omar at 8:10 PM | Read entire post | Comments (11)

When I became a homeowner, I picked up a whole new group of enemies (larder beetles, kids who ride bikes in my lawn, dogs who use my lawn as a bathroom, etc). At the top of my list is a creature that you may not have even heard of: the vole.

No, not a mole. Vole. "But it's so cute, it reminds me of the hamster I had when I was a kid!" Well, it's not cute. It's evil. It's a mass-reproducing, lawn eating creature created by the devil to take over the earth.

As you may have gathered, I hate the vole because it wears down tracks in my lawn and eats my greenery. I do understand, however, that readers of this blog might not care about my lawn. As a result, I have compiled the following list:

Why you should hate voles as much as I do

• The vole stole your wallet - And there was money in it. The vole will use that $15 to make a nest. You could have had 14 items from the Wendy's $.99 menu (depending on tax in your area).

  



• The vole took your job - Combined with the last one, the vole took money out of your pocket both literally and figuratively. To rub it in, he kept the picture of your family on the desk.

  



• The vole slept with your wife/girlfriend - And if you look closely, you'll see he's about to smoke a cigarette in your bed. (Don't be mad at her though, the vole drugged her. Don't think he's capable of that? See below.)

  



• The vole tried to sell drugs to your little sister - Perhaps the most heinous offense of all. If you were on the fence about the vole up to this point, your blood should be boiling by now. She was just playing on the beach, for god's sake. It couldn't be more innocent. Until...

  

Spread the word, folks. And keep an eye on your kid sister.

Posted by omar at 11:19 AM | Read entire post | Comments (32)