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About Illinois Valley news. (Cave City, Oregon) 1937-current | View Entire Issue (Aug. 8, 2018)
Illinois Valley News, Cave Junction, Ore. Wednesday, August 8, 2018 Page A-9 Winding Trails: by Al Hobart Thursday, August 1, 1968 Illinois Valley News Birds –Bandida Like the flowers, low water and other natural phenomena that we greet with mixed emotions each season, desertion time has come early this year to Packer’s Gulch. The pleasure of watching the interesting goings-on in my handkerchief-size front yard from my kitchen window, especially in the early evening when everybody comes fluttering in for a final snack before seeking a cozy hidden roost for the night, now has to be postponed for an indefinite period. The baby vireos, four tiny bits of life, who first saw the light of day in a dark corner of my woodshed, grew to exuberant teen-hood practically overnight and slipped away without allowing me a final inspection to see how their color or any special markings on their miniature new suits compare with those of their elders. First feathers of the young of any bird species are usually drab and inconspicuous, in the interest of natural protection I suppose, and it’s interesting to watch the change of the baby garb to the characteristic, often colorful markings of the adults. But my wee vireos have flown the coop and I’ll probably not see the shy little rascals again till they look just like mama and papa, dressed in dark tan and greenish-yellow, and with conspicuous white rings encircling the eyes. My colorful Western towhee, with her sharply contrasting colors of black, orange and white with ruby-red eyes, proudly presented her two babies for my admiring inspection – for another front-yard first. This beautiful towhee is one of my favorites. It is a ground and low-cover bird and the way it slips nimbly about in a tangle thicket of brush appears to be more of a crawl than a flight. The babies were very shy, only occasionally venturing out into the open, usually lurking under the low-hanging dense foliage of the lilac bush, waiting hungrily for mama to come from that dangerous open space with another beakful of chickenfeed. Now the towhee family too is gone, and I miss the plaintive, mewling low cry of the female that told me when a strange bird or animal was around and posing a possible threat to her babies. Last week a pair of mountain quail brought in their brood of newly-hatched young for their introduction to the feedyard.But now even these year-round visitors, the mountain quail, seem to have deserted me. Once in awhile a junco shows up for a halfhearted peck or two at the chickenfeed, but insects and early-maturing plant seeds are so plentiful now that food is no problem for any of the birds. And so the parents are away with their new broods, teaching them the tricks of survival in their new, hostile world and showing them the wonders to enjoy along shaded streams in the cool forest and in the flowery, sunny meadows. But in the temporary absence of the familiar bird songsters I am still reminded by the doleful cooing of the ever-present mourning doves that I haven’t been altogether deserted by my feathered family. And until the birds all come flocking back I can always rely on Bandida, the masked clown, to furnish me with evening entertainment. Bandida, my dependable little raccoon, never fails me, and some of these days I’m hoping she will show up with some wee coonlets in tow.In early evening she climbs up over the end of the porch, stands up tall on her hind feet and peers into the kitchen window, then, takes up Breast Caner 101: by Laura Cogdell Cancer ages you - sometimes I feel like 20 but mostly I feel like 100. “Invasive ductal carcinoma,” the words sounded like something the dermatologist freezes off. A few days later I looked it up on my phone. I had breast cancer. My recent mammogram showed no indication. Why? I am blessed with dense breasts.(Sarcasm intended.) It was discovered on self exam. Had it not been for the urging of a persistent, OK annoying, friend, I would have blown it off as one of many cysts I had before. Even at the biopsy stage - no problem. I had those before too. Ironically, we were watching the other side the past year. The ultrasound and biopsy showed it was small but dangerous. OK, so are you ER+/ PR+, HER? And what about your BRCA testing? What …? I have had friends with cancer, even breast cancer, but this was a totally foreign language to me. You quickly learn the lingo and that cancer treatment involves both actualities and probabilities. It really has two phases. The “get it out of me before it kills me” phase and the “prevent this thing from coming back” phase. Genetic testing plays a huge role in both. The BRCA blood tests identify whether you are born with harmful mutations in either one of the two breast cancer genes. These hereditary mutations can be linked to a woman’s risk of developing breast, ovarian and other cancers. The Oncotype DX test analyzes the activity of a group of genes within the tumor itself to determine how likely cancer is to recur distantly and if chemotherapy is recommended. Understandably, a cancer diagnosis can evoke some interesting responses: “I am sorry. I will be praying for you,” helpful; “Aunt Flo had breast cancer and survived. You will be fine,” not helpful; “You are in my thoughts. I love you,” helpful; “They have many advances now, piece of cake,” not helpful; “Anything I can do to help, just let me know;” helpful. “Who do you think you are in that turban, the Queen of Sheba?” not helpful; “You are a fighter. You can beat this,” helpful; and “Well, you did drink a lot of diet sodas,” not helpful. Cancer is no respecter of persons. All cancer is serious and can be deadly, from the tiniest melanoma all the way up to devastating glioblastoma. People die from stage I and survive stage IV. That is why the staging system gave way to a multiple factor system in 2018. There are tons of suggested remedies and preventions out there, most of them chasing after wind. Study the science. No one knows for certain what causes cancer. There is, however, great promise in immunotherapy. These treatments and vaccines will revolutionize cancer prevention and treatment. Progress, though slow, is being made. Until then, love on someone suffering from this dreadful disease. her position right at the crack of the door, sitting there patiently on her haunches just like a little watchdog, waiting for me to come out with her supper. About an hour after her main meal she always comes back for a little snack, usually a handful of dog-food pellets, which she is especially fond of before retiring to her mysterious retreat somewhere out there in the dark woods beyond the creek. In spite of my friendly overtures and generous patronage the birds will only allow me to approach them to within what they consider a reasonably safe distance. But appreciative little Bandida will now accept food right from my fingers. Only once (just last night) did she miscalculate, and nipped a finger with her needle-sharp teeth. It hurt like fury, but in order to keep from hurting her feelings I stoically pretended not to notice. After all, hasn’t one of our good American customs always been an occasional nip among friends.
