My neighbor stops by.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“Not so hot.

I just got kicked out of the Happy To Be Here Club because I couldn’t fake being happy to be there.

It was a frightening conclusion to an organization that I had given nearly two weeks of my life.

The club president explained my dismissal to me in simple terms.

She talked to me like I was a half-bubble off plumb. I think she must listen to motivational tapes backwards. This disappointment is enough to make me want to join my Cousin Charlie in Miami.”

“What is Charlie doing in Miami?” I ask.

“He took a geographic cure for his chronic cold and flu symptoms. He is the head of the snow removal program for the city of Miami.

At least that is what he told me.

Of course, you can’t really believe Charlie.

He would rather climb a tree to tell a lie than to stand on the ground and tell the truth.

I believe he is living on manufacturer’s rebate checks. At least he will be able to find his detached garage all year long in Miami.

Maybe I will just move to Miami for the winter?”

“You’d miss our winters,” I add.

“That’s true.

I do enjoy waving at people who are in the ditch.”

Eastern Towhee

There once was a bird called the Rufous-sided Towhee.

A great bird with a great name.

I liked this bird so much that I named my faithful canine companion, Towhee, after the Rufous-sided Towhee.

Well, I didn’t name her Rufous-sided Towhee.

It would be too much work calling her into the house. “Rufous-sided Towhee!

Rufous-sided Towhee!”

The neighbors would think I was nuts.

OK, so they already think that.

I named my dog, Towhee.

My faithful canine companion is a rare breed, a Belgian Airhead, and my wife, The Queen B, wanted me to name her, “Hey You!”

But I was adamant in my desire to name the mutt Towhee.

Then the powers that be changed the name of the bird to the Eastern Towhee.

I still like the little bird.

I look forward to its return each spring.

I can’t wait to hear its three-note song heralding the spring.

“Drink your tea-eee!” it sings.

This sparrow is a handsome one.

The male sports a glossy black head, throat, wings, upper breast, back and tail with a white abdomen and lower breast.

It has a rusty red wash on both sides and large white spots on the underside of its tail.

The female is brown where the male is black.

This bird has red eyes.

You will find Eastern Towhees along woodland edges and in fencerows, thickets, brushy pastures, orchards, gardens and lawns.

I enjoy watching it scratch in the dry leaves and grass while it feeds on the ground on seeds and insects. This red-eyed chirper eats beetles, ants, grubs, caterpillars, crickets, moths, grasshoppers, earthworms and potato bugs. This towhee nests on the ground beside a log or under a fallen branch, small bush or vine.

The nest is made of dry leaves, grass, stems and strips of bark and is lined with grasses, rootlets or hair.

Listen for the bird’s “Drink your tea-eee!” or “Tow-hee.”

Listen for its “Che-wink” alarm call.

This has earned the bird the nickname, “Chewink.”

If you hear one of these calls, just holler, “Towhee!”

Then look for a large black and brown dog of mixed ancestry to come running your way.

A salesman comes to our door.

My faithful canine companion Towhee rushes to greet him.

As the Batt family’s official greeter, she does it by giving the peddler a goose from behind.

It is the way dogs shake hands.

It surprises the fellow some.

He lets out a “Aaaaaa!”

“Nice dog,” he says.

He has to be nice as he is trying to sell me something. “She is that,” I answer.

I am a firm believer that every married man ought to have a dog. A man can come home and find that the entire family is mad at him.

A man is seldom sure of the reason for a family’s anger.

It could be a number of things, depending upon what they have found out.

This is where the importance of the dog comes in to play.

The dog greets a man at the door as if it is saying,

“Thank goodness you are home! Promise me that you will never change.

You are perfect just the way you are.”

“What kind of a dog is she?” the salesman asks. “Spitz?”

“No,” I reply.

“But she drools a little.”

“Oh,” says the salesman through a smile like he is having a gas attack.

“What breed of dog is she?”

“She is a Belgian Airhead,” I reply proudly.

“A Belgian Airhead?” he asks.

“I’ve never heard of such a dog.”

“Have you ever watched that Westminster Dog Show that is on TV every year?”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Yes, well, you will never see a Belgian Airhead on it.

They are that rare.”

Peanuts

Blue Jays and White-breasted Nuthatches love peanuts.

I love birds, so I put out unsalted peanuts for them.

I have a tiny platform feeder that is the perfect container for the goobers.

I place the peanuts into the feeder and by the time I am back in my house, a good share of the peanuts has been devoured.

The Blue Jays evidently have a sentry whose only job is to give peanut reports.

The minute this peanut watcher spots a peanut, he lets all the other Blue Jays know about it.

With the speed in which the other jays appear upon the scene, I have concluded that the blue sentry is making use of both the cell phone and a computer.

There must be a listserve that is used to report peanut sightings.

My peanuts disappear so quickly and completely that even David Copperfield is baffled.

All that is left in my feeder are a few soybeans that found their way into my bag of peanuts.

They have all rolled to a corner of the feeder like miniature bowling balls.

There they remain undisturbed.

I need to find a bird that likes tofu.

Etcetera

My thanks to the wonderful reporters to Nature’s World: Judy Karsjens, Nadine Spellman, Jay Ernest, Kermit Brandt, Lillie Ziegler, Ken Leland, Anita Jensen, Ted Myers, Betty Hanson, Ken Leland, Charlotte Gervais, Jane Wicklund, John and Susan Kroll, Doug Vandegrift, Wendy Buffington, George Vania, Shelly Peterson, Sally Webster and Dick Sandve.

“I like pigs.

Dogs look up to us.

Cats look down on us.

Pigs treat us as equals.” &045; Winston Churchill

“In spring, summer, and fall, people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quieter stretches when you can ‘savor’ belonging to yourself. … There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you.” — Ruth Stout

DO GOOD.

Allen Batt of Hartland is a member of the Albert Lea Audubon Society. His e-mail address is SnoEowl@aol.com.