Blue Jay Way

We have finally caught (and not just had it momentarily stuck in the net) a Jay. A Western Scrub Jay.

I was banding with Colin at one of our "offsites," Muddy Hollow, sometime last week, when we caught it. I was the lucky one to be on the net run that discovered the bird in the net. We don't catch them very often, even though there's lots around due to them being too smart, and the fact that the nets we use are more like a hammock to them, than something they get tangled in. This bird had it's feet wrapped up pretty well though, which took some doing on my part to get it to let go. Definitely much bigger in the hand than a Florida Scrub Jay. I can't imagine how much bigger the Island Scrub Jays are going to be that I'll be handling in April. Catching that Scrub Jay at Muddy Hollow made up for the kind of crappy morning it had been shaping up to be... a tangled net and snapped rope made opening less than a smooth operation. And the rain that would start, soak us, then stop just as we were about to close nets, was also an annoyance. After the Jay it was all better. And it stopped raining.



But when it does rain, it pours so they say. The next day banding at Palo I went on a net run that turned out to be rather ridiculous. 9 birds in one run... which is a lot for the winter. And two of those birds were Stellar's Jays. I banded and processed them both, (after taking care of the numerous little birds that should be processed first... the bigger birds can handle being captured for longer). I still have little scrapes on my right hand where the Jays liked to grab onto my thumb, or any fingers within their grasp, while I took a look at them. When I released them out behind the banding lab they each yelled at me as they flew off. There was a Stellar's Jay the next day who was hanging around the banding lab who would yell at me every time I stepped out for a net run. I wouldn't be surprised if it was one of the two I banded the day before. I've known Jays to remember individuals.



On a topic other than my obsession with Corvids... I went for a short hike today in Samuel P. Taylor state park to see some Redwoods. It was very peaceful in the trees. I could hear a creek running down below, and flushed up 4 Varied Thrush along the way. (They were interested, but not convinced by my imitation of their call...) Where the sun could actually work its way through the dense trees you could see long strands of spider webs, lit up like filaments of gold from branch to branch. The trees were pretty much all second growth Redwoods, so none as big as what I'd see if I actually went to the Redwood National Park or Forest, or whatever, but there was one big one. It was called "the pioneer tree." (Which explains why the trail was the Pioneer Tree Trail. Which I failed to realize until I got to said tree.) The Pioneer Tree had a nice little sign in front of it talking about how old it probably was, etc... and at the end it said "go on in and check it out." Which took me by surprise. The tree had been hollowed out at the bottom by fire, so there was a huge cave you could walk right into. I of course checked it out. It felt a bit creepy at first. It was awfully dark in there. But once my eyes adjusted it was interesting to see the patterns in the wood, and how the tree had healed itself from its fire wounds. (Redwoods can do that apparently.)



Tomorrow is back to banding at Palo after a short Christmas break.

Here's a nice view of the Farallon Islands seen from a bike ride back from Bolinas one evening...

A Day in the Life, and the Wintern Wrens

0640- My cell phone begins chiming. I groggily reach out from under the warm covers, grab the phone, hit snooze, glance at the time, and curl up back under the covers with the phone under the pillow.

0645- The phone begins chiming again. I can hear Nora’s phone now ringing and vibrating across the room. Stretch. Sigh. Roll out of bed, stumble over to where my favorite hoodie is hanging, pull over head, push hair out of face, slide slippers on, shuffle to the kitchen. Turn on the lights and blink until my eyes have adjusted to the sudden change. Shuffle to the fridge, contemplate what I want to eat while staring inside. (This morning it was a piece of pumpkin pie that I made the night before… It’s good breakfast food… has pumpkin, honey, yogurt and almond in it, and most importantly, tastes good.) Nora wanders in, probably hits a limb on some random corner of a counter or table, moans/ laughs. Not much is said while breakfast is being eaten (This is how I best function, like some people need their coffee, I need some food in my belly.) Step out of the kitchen, into the bathroom, brush teeth, etc. Back into the room to put on some clothes, socks and shoes. Grab my binoculars and camera, head up to the library. Dump my stuff on the table, change the message on the hotline (“Today is Wednesday, December seventeenth, and the Palomarin nets are open.”) Start filling out the weather for net opening (temp., wind speed and direction, barometer). Walk outside to a good vantage point and estimate cloud cover, type and visibility. Admire the pink underbellies of the clouds if it’s a nice day. Glance with apprehension at the gray blanket if it’s an iffy weather day. Walk back into the library, finish writing the weather in. Meet up with Nora in the banding lab, who is removing all the tools we’ll need for the day from the drawers behind the counter. While she places all the bands on their respective size pegs I pull out the banding laptop and boot it up. Nora organizes the banding pliers and rulers while I plug in the scale. Erase the previous banding day’s data from the white board behind us. Decide what our “Most wanted” bird for the day will be. (Today it was White-crowned Sparrow. It can’t always be Western Scrub Jay…)

0735- Step out of the banding lab, radios in pockets, bird bags hanging from our belt loops, binoculars slung over our shoulders, open the nets. All 20 nets in 14 locations over the 3/8th mile long net trail, which winds around, up and down, a section of the Palomarin property.

0755- finish opening the nets, decide who’s going to go on the first few “net runs” to check for birds, and who will conduct the “area search.” Nora takes the first few net runs, I head back to the banding lab to pick up a clipboard and blank area search form. Head back out to the net trail, check my watch and record the time. I now have 30 minutes to bird the net trail. First bird of the morning… a screaming Stellar’s Jay. A Western Scrub Jay yells back. A Wrentit scolds from the Coyote Brush as I tiptoe past. Two Anna’s Hummingbirds scream by overhead, one chasing the other, all while yelling its little head off. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 Bushtits chipping and flitting from one section of Scrub to another. A Song Sparrow barks at me. A few Ruby-crowned Kinglets type away on their typewriters. I continue on and a Red Shafted Flicker pops up from the ground, flies to the nearest Douglass Fir, then takes off, heading further away. A gang of Chestnut-backed Chickadees is foraging overhead, chatting all the while. A Red-breasted Nuthatch pipes up. Another replies. Then another. Pretty soon they’re all whining their “yank yank yank yanks” at each other, nearly in unison. A Hutton’s Vireo wheezes. I hear some scratching on the ground, move to a better vantage point, spot a group of Fox Sparrows all scratching in the dirt together, leaves are flying. A Robin laughs in the forest above me. A few Oregon Juncos call to each other from in the branches as well. A funny wheezy, whirry call… a Varied Thrush. I hope we catch it. The characteristic chipping of Warblers… but which ones? I stalk the sounds, and find a group of 4 Townsends Warblers all bouncing from branch to branch together. Golden-crowned Kinglets overhead. Sharp calls point my binoculars in the direction of the Winter Wren that I see nearly every Palo banding day in his usual spot. Emerging from the forest, back into the scrub I startle 3 Golden-crowned Sparrows foraging in the trail. A Common Raven calls overhead. I check my watch, only a few more minutes. Make a few more tallies, head back to the banding lab. Check out the awesome Varied Thrush that stumbled into one of our nets that Nora is processing. Check the time. Time for a net run.

0905- Net run #1 of many for the day. (Between the two of us we will walk the net trail once every half hour from 15 minutes after sunrise, until 6 hours later.) No birds this run…

1035- I’m on a net run. I come up a little rise and see net 8.4. There’s something big in it. Bigger than what we usually catch. My heart skips when I realize it’s a raptor of some sort. A Sharp-shinned Hawk. I dash up to the net and pinch two trammels together, trapping the bird, before it can flap its way out. He’s not tangled at all… too big for the holes in the net. He’s just a little confused, on his back, in a pocket. I cautiously open the trammels. The Sharpie eyes me. I toss in a cloth bag. He latches onto it with his talons. I cautiously reach into the net and place another bag over the Sharpie’s head. (Helps them remain calm.) I carefully reach in, grasp the hawk around the upper legs and lower body, pinning his wings to his side, lift him out of the net, and head back to the banding lab. Nora and I work together to process the bird, Part Two of the Pyle Guide is our bible. It looks like an after hatch year male. Plumage and wing measurement confirm this. When done we take a few pictures, then I head over away from the nearest net, which has trapped a Hermit Thrush while we were working, and throw the Sharpie into the wind. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s free, and he wheels away in a long arc, headed back up the hill, towards the forest again. No doubt to stalk the small songbirds that he likes to eat. Nora hands me the Hermit Thrush to process and heads off to finish the next net run.





1335- The end of the banding day. Nora and I head out together to do one last check on the nets, and when empty, furl them up, and tie them off until another morning. Today was a beautiful day we agree as we furl net 1.4 and look out on the Pacific Ocean and the Farralon Islands on the horizon. We finish entering our banding data for the day, check out our “recap report” (Look at past records of birds already banded we caught that day.) Then we proof our data and make any needed corrections.

1445- Lunch! Change into more comfortable shoes, if it wasn’t warm enough for me to be wearing sandals all day... (note: I wear sandals when most would think is inappropriate, so before you make comments about it must be so warm... it's not really. I just like a breeze for my toes.)

Relax. Band practice tonight. Colin on guitar, Nora on Penny Whistle, and of course, myself on the flute. “The Wintern Wrens.”

The point of the kings

Another week has passed at Palomarin. All the winterns are present and accounted for. I am mostly up and running on my own. (Most exciting bird of the day, and most likely week, was the Wilson’s Warbler I extracted and banded today.) Banding is going full swing. The Scrub Jay total is one in the net. Who escaped while the net was being lowered so the bander on the net run could extract them. (and he/ she hadn't been banded yet either. Sly devils.) I’ve watched a group of them hanging out by a net, squawking to each other. Flying almost straight for the top section, then cutting up at the last second and dipping back down again on the other side. They’re too smart.

Last week all the winterns had a day off together. So we decided to head to the actual point of Point Reyes and visit the lighthouse out there (as well as bird and look for migrating whales.) It was a success on all fronts.



I especially enjoyed the Surf Scoters and Brandt’s Cormorants. The Scoters were flying South in huge flocks, headed I don’t know where, and the Cormorants were mostly hanging out in huge gangs, out on rocks out in the surf. It’s entertaining to watch them make their awkward arrivals on the rock hangouts. They’ll paddle up to the base of a rock, on a calm side, to avoid the swirling currents and clashing waves. Then they’ll lift their heads up, peering in the direction that they’re about to jump in… then its go time. They flap up out of the water, plant their short little legs on the rock, (hopefully gaining purchase,) and thrust their necks and heads forward for a counterbalance. Most of the time they don’t quite land in the best position, and much flapping and hopping is necessary to finish the task and join the crew already drying their wings at the hangout. I watched as a few Cormorants that tried to join the crew from the air awkwardly landed on top of the group, and received a few well placed bites and pokes in return.

The lighthouse at the point was in operation from about 1870 to 1975 when it was decommissioned.



The original lens is still there, and was being used up to the decommissioning. It was made in Paris in the 1860s. The lens that is in the Point Reyes lighthouse is the largest size that the French company made.



The lights were fueled by lard oil, kerosene, and electricity alternately through the years. The rotation of the lens was managed through a system of gears, turned by a counterweight that the lighthouse attendant had to crank up every so often. Colin was very excited.



And we saw migrating whales! (Well, Colin and I did… Nora is kind of bitter about it, I’ll try not to rub it in too much.) They were way out nearly on the horizon. We only spotted them by their spouts… and that was with binoculars. Apparently peak migration is in about a month, so we’re planning on heading back. We’ve been told they’ll be much closer in then.

We also planned our visit to the historic “lifeboat station” (where rescues used to be launched until about the 1930s) perfectly. While birding there, and hoping to spot some seals, 2 trucks pulled up with 2 dog crates in the back of each of them. With license plates reading things like “pinniped” I knew we were about to see something out of the ordinary. Sure enough, the cargo in the dog crates were four young Northern Fur Seals that had washed up malnourished, and were now being released. One was very vocal while being carried to the boat ramp where he would be set free. All four were slapping their front flippers against the front of their crates, ready to go. When the doors were opened they were gone in a matter of seconds. I was lucky to get one picture before they disappeared into the surf, frolicking and porpoising in the waves.



We also saw one elephant seal… a young lone male, lounging in the sun on this beach, enjoying a flipper powered sand shower.(He's just a bit early for the breeding season.)



For scale, try and find the two people… (hint: one’s wearing a red coat.)

Life in the 415

Life at Palo is good. Being here two weeks I’ve already learned a lot… and have much more to learn. Actually banding the birds that we catch in the mist nets is really only one small facet of what are a bander’s duties. Every half hour we walk our net trails to check for captured birds. If/ when we find one we have to carefully extract it from the net, wing by wing, and coax the especially grabby ones to let go with their feet. We place the captured birds in a small cloth bag, and walk back to our banding station for the day. (They’re actually calmer, and safer, in the bag than if we were to walk around with them exposed.) If they’re already banded we record who we’ve caught, and if not we give them a nice lightweight aluminum bracelet to wear with their own 9 digit code. After that we try to determine the bird’s age and sex, look at feather condition, amount of fat, and weight among other measurements. Some birds we color band. Then we release the bird. If it’s a small bird, just releasing it from the bander’s grip over your palm, close to the ground is fine. If it’s a raptor… throw it into the wind. (Keep those talons as far away from you as possible.) Most of the birds we catch are small, like this Yellow Rumped Warbler.



But sometimes we catch larger birds. Like this juvenile Red Shouldered Hawk.



I have not “processed” a raptor yet, but I have released a Sharp Shinned Hawk. (Who was smaller than even the juvenile Red Shouldered.)

I’ve been hoping for a Western Scrub Jay in the nets, but so far they have eluded us. There is no shortage of them around the Palomarin field station. Lately the only time you see one is with an acorn in its mouth. Perched high on the top of the nearest tree, surveying the area for other jays, and either yelling at/ to them, or flying, beak full, with the characteristic flap like mad, tuck your wings, flap like mad, Jay flight pattern. Nora, one of my banding intern buddies, has been hoping to catch a Black Phoebe. Especially since at least one appears wherever she goes. (And I mean everywhere.)

Another duty of the bander is mending mist nets. Yesterday Nora and I attempted to mend nets in the backyard while Colin, another winter bander, worked with Renee banding. Just figuring out the diagram of how to tie the correct knot was hard enough. Doing it was another story. A good chunk of the time we’d end up tying slip knots by accident. Re-do. Then it got windy. And it was impossible to work out where the little square of net that you were attempting to knot into had just disappeared to. At that point we broke for lunch, I rode my bike to Bolinas to drop off a movie at the library, and then we re-grouped for some proofing of data from the previous month. (Another duty)

Today we banded at one of our “off sites” and I extracted and processed my first few birds alone, which was exciting. I also had a Winter Wren stuck down my shirt for about 10 minutes. He/ she was getting a little shaky, so it was back in the bag, and zipped loosely in my jacket while I processed another bird. By the time I was done with the second bird the WIWR was kicking and biting again. Success!


Biking around Bolinas is very scenic. You alternate riding along cliffs overlooking the Pacific and through stands of eucalyptus trees. A sea breeze, or the smell of fresh bark mulch and vick’s vapo rub combined (which, call me strange, I find rather pleasant.) The only downside to the ride are the hills. This is near San Francisco after all. Going downhill is tons of fun. Going up again… not as much.

I have found a place to get some bouldering in only 10 miles from the field station. Right on the beach. I’ve never had to plan my climbing around tides before. There’s a nice little traverse that I’ve found, and a V1 that could be a project. It feels a little strange pulling on the rocks on the beach. The texture of the dried salt on them is a whole new element. They almost feel slippery.

Here's Nora on the traverse, hanging out.



and some of the other boulders in the area.



I also went surfing for the very first time on Thanksgiving day with some scientists from the station. I was lent a board and a wetsuit, given about a 5 minute primer on how to stand up, read a wave, and proper surf etiquette, then ran after my teacher, Nat, into the waves and paddled out here… (the little black specks are surfers)



Having seen it firsthand now, I can imagine surfing being a scary thing if you haven’t had a lot of swimming experience. There was only once when I panicked a little bit after riding face first off my board into the water. I got tossed around a little, smacked on the head by the board, and couldn’t pop up until another wave had passed, but once I relaxed it was fine. I didn’t stand up in the 2 hours I was out there, but by the end I was getting the idea of what waves were good, and how to get into a good position to paddle into them. I caught a few waves, and rode them on my stomach. One of them I rode long enough for Nat, riding next to me, to yell at me “Stand up! Stand up! All the way!” At which point I jumped, but hesitated at the last moment, and only made it to my knees before I pitched over sideways with a yelp. I was immediately swallowed up by the wave. I popped up grinning a little while later, and paddled back out for another try.

Palo

This is home for the next few months...





and work for the next few months...

We're not in Kansas anymore.

NH – I leave bright and early on the 5th, learn Obama is the new president elect while listening to the radio on the drive over to pick up Jan. We tetris-style pack my car, and head for the wilds of Vermont.

VT – Pretty hills and mountains, a few cows. (State line #1!)

NY- First stop for supplies… somewhere on some back country highway. Pay lots of tolls on 90. Very close to Niagra Falls, but no time to stop, we’ve still got a long way to go today. (State line #2!)

PA- don’t really remember that much… how long have we been driving now? (State line #3!)

OH- Yes! We’ve made it to the destination state. No! we’ve got to get all the way to Cincinnati. (State line #4!) I spend two nights hanging out with family, Jan visits a cousin in the city. Somehow I have become a cavalry horse in a game of keep away with a cousin. (Note: it’s much easier to run without a child on your back.) I depart at the break of dawn on the 7th, only become slightly lost getting Jan in the city, and we make haste to the Midwest. (First of many realizations on this trip that driving in/ around Boston pretty much prepares you for anything.)

IN- yeah… we crossed it, I just don’t remember. (State line #5!)

IL- similar to above. (Sorry to my readers from IL… State line #6!)

MO- Traffic going through St. Louis around lunch time. (State line #7!)



KA- Flat. Well, almost… you can see the crest of the next hill about 10 miles distant (straight ahead.) (State line #8!) We drive into the dark, finally pulling off somewhere in the middle of the state, spend a very windy night on a man made lake in Wilson State Park. First night on the trip in the tent. Fill up the gas tank the next morning at a station in the middle of nowhere with a clerk who is about the friendliest person we will encounter on the road… with about half of his teeth in his mouth.

CO- Yay! We’re making it to the west now. Oh wait. We’ve got hours of flatness before we hit the Rockies… how much longer? (State line #9!) This is it! The slugmobile chugs up the Rockies for the second time in 6 months on route 70 West. The little car that could. We top out at above 11,000 feet (driving through a tunnel). Pop out the other side and, IT’S SNOWING! Light flakes are falling all around. The spires of rock that hang above us are dusted. The summits of the mountains are hidden by the top of the windshield. We duck down low to peer up at the peaks which look like they’ve been dusted with confectionary sugar. We pass a ski resort which is open. People are skiing, making nice S’s down the nearest trail. I claw at the glass of the driver’s window and moan about not bringing skis. (Where they would have fit in the car, I don’t know.) We pass exits for Steamboat and envy Kirsten. We descend from the mountains, regain our composure, buy groceries in Grand Junction, find a place to crash, and drive into the night…

UT- It’s dark. And the desert landscape is very strange in the spare light from the stars. No wonder so many science fiction movies about outer space have been filmed in the Utah desert. This place really is alien. (State line #10!) We arrive in St. George around 11 pm. Crash on the couch of a friend. Awake on the morning of the 9th with grand plans to climb a fairly simple multi-pitch sport climb just outside town at the Prophesy Wall. It’s raining when we arrive. Re-group. Can’t climb on wet sandstone. (Unless you want to be hated by climbers forevermore for destroying holds.) Visit some old co-workers of Jan’s in town, head out. Red Rocks or bust!

NV- More desert. (State line #11!) But this time it’s a bit more familiar. (Not quite sagebrush though.)



We arrive in Vegas in the early afternoon. We avoid the strip. Go to the climbing shop instead. Get a few supplies, chat up the locals, claim a campsite, and head to the crag to get a climb in before dark. I lead a 5.8. (Highest rating outside leading yet.) Find out later it was a 5.8+. No wonder it felt a little sketchy there for a bit. Jan is glad I led. Cook dinner, crash. Wake up, we think late, but learn it’s only 7:30. Start of first full day in Nevada. Silly trad climbers getting up at the break of dawn to climb 10 pitches. Eat breakfast. We’re at the “Panty Wall” by 9:00, and climbing.




Phone climbing gym friend and gloat. Complete 7 climbs in the day. Led all except one 5.7, and a TR on a slabby 10b. Gawk at the rescue helicopter hovering and ambulances in the parking lot. Hope parents are not paying attention to NV news and that if it is indeed an injured climber they come out ok. Resolve to call parents as soon as dead cell is charged again. Finish out the day on a very bouldery 5.9. Drive the 13 mile “scenic loop” around Red Rocks Park in the dark. See the lights of Vegas from the wilds of the desert. (Very weird how the city just stops. No suburbs. Just blocks and blocks of people… then desert. I prefer the desert.) Cook artichoke and garlic chicken sausages on sticks over the camp fire. Crash. Wake up, again, we think late. Still only 7:30. Into the desert again. Get a random hiker to take our picture.



Head to “The Magic Bus” wall for a half day of climbing. Head into town to find internet and connect with civilization again. (A bit of a let down, really.) Last night in Red rocks. We wake up, bright and early, pack up the Slugmobile, and head for California. Pass such illustrious places of business as “The Shady Lady Ranch” and others with similarly suggestive titles.

CA- Last state crossing! (#12) This is it. We arrive in Bishop around lunch. Eat in a city park with very friendly (and gluttonous) ducks. Jan yells at them. Chat up the locals in a gear shop. Claim a tent site at “The Pit” and head to the Happy Boulders. Climb around a bit on a traverse on the Totty Boulder.



Hike out as the sun is setting over the Sierra Nevada. Spy a Black Diamond truck in the parking lot and guess what hidden goodies are on the inside. (Jan wants tele skis. I want lots and lots of climbing gear.) Night (who knows what at this point) in my tent. Wake up on the morning of the 12th, head to the Owens River Gorge for some sport climbing. Manage to not die hiking down the steep scree trail to the Warm Up Wall, and later, the Great Wall of China.



Highlights include me leading my first 5.9, and Such awesome routes as “China Doll.” (This is somebody else on China Doll, taken as we hiked in.)



Scrambled back up the “gully” to get out of the Central Gorge. Dinner in the parking lot of Wild Willy’s Hot Springs. Post climbing soak in our birthday suits under the light of the full moon reflecting off the snow covered peaks of the Sierra Nevada and White Mountains looming above us. Extract ourselves (reluctantly) from the warm water, head back to The Pit. Sleep soundly. Wake up the next morning and re-pack all our gear strategically to get Jan into the airport most efficiently.



Re-tetris the slugmobile. Begin the final drive. Make a brief stop to check out Mono Lake.



Extract ourselves from the “moon” mud, part the brine flies, and chug over the Sierra Nevada. The Devil Duck, Toejam, and Leroy rejoice.



One lane highways on windy roads with sheer cliffs enclosing you on either side are fun… I’m glad I have a manual. We drive through the Central Valley, through Sacramento, hit traffic (for the first time since St. Louis.) I break out the Boston area driver skills again that have been lying dormant for a few days. Arrive at the Oakland Airport just in time. Jan and I exchange our goodbyes… I drive out, back into the insane Bay Area Traffic. I’m not so sure I’m glad I have a manual anymore… but just briefly. I re-evaluate this when driving North on 1. I feel like I’m driving a rally car on the winding road. Up and down hills, around hairpin turns, all with an amazing view of the sun setting over the Pacific. Pass through Stinson Beach, arrive at Palo in the dark. Stumble into the kitchen of my new home for the next 5 months and meet my fellow interns. The road trip is over, the new adventure begins…

The next step (or marathon across the country)

My car is clean, my gear is mostly packed, and a plan is in place. Tomorrow I leave in the early AM, drive to Jan's to pick her up, and then we make a mad dash to Ohio. From there it's westward bound, headed for some climbing in the warmer southwest. Maybe we'll do some climbing in Colorado depending on the weather. But it looks like we'll be headed to Red Rocks at least. From there I will arrive on the Point Reyes National Seashore on the 14th of November, ready for the first day of my bird banding internship at PRBO's Palomarin Field Station. I'll be spending the winter on the Pacific, learning lots, and working hard. I'm looking forward to the experience, even though I will be extremely poor. Of course, you can always send me fun things here:

My name
PRBO
Palomarin Field Station
PO Box 1157
Bolinas CA, 94924

I've enjoyed my time back home. I'm going to miss climbing with the Vertical Dreams crew, and hanging out with friends who are still in the NH area. Kaija and Ben's wedding went off without any major mishaps... even though the ceremony was held on the ice in an arena, and the whole wedding party was on skates (in dresses and tuxes of course). No one fell. And we got their car good, even though they tried to hide it from us.

It's time to take the next step! And as always... where I'll be next, who knows...