We have become more involved in the local crow culture. The crows know Pat to be an empathetic person and trust her to do right by them. A crow was injured a couple of weeks ago and came to Pat for help. I guess I will now have to refer to our home as “Pat’s Crow Rehab Center.”

Pat glanced out the front window and saw something black beside the crows’ water bowl. She went outside to check it out and as she got closer, she could see that there was a crow lying there. She could see it was distressed and tried to get close enough to pet it. As she got within a few feet of it, she apparently had entered the crow’s threat zone, and it heaved itself onto its feet and then flew to the neighbor’s rooftop. When Pat backed off, it returned to the water bowl. Pat observed the crow as it flew and when it landed and noted that one leg or foot was injured, and the feathers on one part of the body were in disarray. The crow tried to stand on one leg but was too weak and fell over.

The next few days were tough. The crow spent the days laying by the water bowl or laying in our yard or our neighbor’s yard as he healed and regained his strength. Pat fed him where he was and kept the water bowl filled clear to the top so he could just stick his beak in and drink while lying down.

After six days, he was able to stand on one leg and curled the injured leg up under himself. Once in a while, he would touch the injured leg to the ground just to help maintain his balance.

After ten days, he was flying back and forth across the street to the neighbor’s rooftop. It was like an exercise regimen that he was performing to build his strength. About this time, another crow appeared. It is smaller than the injured guy, so we figure it is his mate. It hangs around all day and keeps him company.

Pat talked to the crow a lot. During those first few days when the crow was in his worst condition, Pat gave him a lot of attention. She would go out and say things like, “How are you this morning? How do you feel today? You look better!”  The crow watched her and from the tone and inflection of her voice, he knew she was being solicitous. He always paid attention.   

We didn’t know where the crow had been spending his nights. He couldn’t fly well, so he didn’t go far. He also sometimes disappeared during the day. We knew he was within hearing range because Pat could call him in. If she wanted to give him a snack, she would go to the door and yell, “Crow crow!” and, in a few seconds, he would stop by.

An alternate place to hang out would be the big tree across the street. It had leafed out and within its branches would be a great place for a crow to hide while recuperating. The crow spent a few hours each day there and couldn’t be seen. However, when Pat called at snack time, he came roaring out.

He’s been in rehab a few weeks now. The crow looks good, flies well, and can stand on one leg without falling over. I don’t know how much longer he will want to enjoy the food and care of Pat’s Rehab Center. We have enjoyed his company. Pat didn’t go looking for a bunch of crows, but they found her. She seems to have a special aura for attracting creatures.  It has been good for all of us.

Dave Thomas

5/14/26

When Pat feeds the crows, they may be joined by a pair of sparrows or a pair of finches. If it is meat time, she will chop up a hot dog or come up with some other substantial meal. If it is snack time, she will throw out some peanuts. The peanuts are too large for the sparrows or finches, so, if she has time, she cuts the nuts in half. If busy, she just steps on a few of them on the driveway and reduces them to edible sizes.

The other morning, thinking that some of the crows might come by for a snack, she threw some peanuts out on the driveway. She went back into the house to watch the news. After a few minutes, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look and saw the little red-headed finch had landed on the wrought iron rail that borders our front stoop. When they made eye contact, the finch let out a huge chirp. Pat went to the door and said, “I know what you want!” The finch hopped off the rail and flew down to join his mate at the peanuts. Pat walked over and stepped on a few of the nuts to smash them to size. The little birds ate their fill and flew away.

I never spent much time thinking about finches other than noting they were cute little birds. They are about as big as a ping pong ball with wings and probably have a brain the size of a pea. After Pat told me this story, I was amazed to think that a finch could put things together and solve problems. When the male bird saw the peanuts, he knew he couldn’t eat them. He remembered that Pat always fixed the nuts so he could eat them. He also knew that she came from the house. Next, he remembered that he had flown past the window and could see inside the house. He flew to the rail and looked in the window and saw Pat. He knew he had to get her attention, so he let out a large chirp. When Pat came to the door, he knew he had been successful, so he returned to the driveway. The sequence of events tells me that this guy is a thinker. I have chastised myself for not being observant in the past. I’ve learned that the least of us have something to offer, so we had better keep our minds open.

Dave Thomas

4/30/2026

I went to the doctor down in Fort Worth yesterday and when I got in the waiting room I sat down beside another senior citizen. We talked for a few minutes about the big storm that was due to hit during the night. After talking that over for a few minutes we were sitting quietly with our own thoughts. I was mainly thinking of the chores I should get done before the bad weather hit. Then, all of a sudden, he says, “We’re from up in Denton and we’ve got some horses on our place up there or, to be correct, I should say that my wife has some horses on our place up there. The problem is she’s afraid of storms and especially scared to death of being hit by lightning. So, when the big storms like this one come, I have to get out there and feed the horses. Among our family and friends I’m known as the “Sacrificial Horse Feeder.”

Dave Thomas
April 23, 2008

Reposted 3/23/23

Don’t Let the Door Hit You in the Butt

There are 100 Senators and 435 Congressmen in Washington, D.C. to guard our democracy and our people. Two of them have resigned this week due to an apparent lapse in their moral make-up which allegedly resulted in improper sexual behavior. It sounds like they got carried away by their ascent to a privileged class of the hierarchy and were corrupted by the power of their positions. What could have gone on in their heads?  “I won the election, so I must be a fantastic guy? A sweet thing like you deserves a pat on the butt from a terrific guy like me?” Or something like that?  And it goes on from there? However it transpired, abusing one’s power is disgusting.

Will there be consequences for their actions? Probably not enough. They may lose their salaries. I heard one news person say that they will not keep their retirements. What about their participation in the world’s greatest health plan? As an employer of these guys, I feel betrayed and cheated. They were playing footsy rather than taking care of our country’s business. Let’s hope we can find some patriots of good moral character to relieve them.

With a pool of 330 million to work from, we can hopefully come up with a few better patriots.

Dave Thomas

4/16/2026

All For One

Two crows had been prancing around our driveway as they waited for a snack. Pat took some peanuts and scattered them on the drive in an area that can be seen from our living room window.

Pat and I were watching the news on TV. I was also waiting for a 1:00 PM video call from my newly appointed primary physician, a get-acquainted call. Our daughter, Terri, would be over in a few minutes to help with the phone call. Pat has arthritis in her hands and has trouble hitting the right buttons on her cell phone.

Terri arrived and parked in the driveway. The crows recognized both her and her car, so they didn’t get excited when she showed up. I got the phone call, and Terri got me organized , and I started talking with the doctor. Pat suddenly said “Seagulls!” Three seagulls had landed on the driveway just a few feet from the crows and started eating the peanuts. The crows stopped eating and watched them. The gulls noticed the attention they were getting and started advancing on the crows. A fourth seagull came swooping in and joined the party. The gulls circled the nearest crow and cut him off from the other. That fourth gull was apparently the bully or enforcer as he extended his wings and started using them to beat up the trapped crow. The crow was trying to defend itself as it screamed for help, but it wasn’t having much luck against the larger bird. The other crow was dancing around as it also was screaming for help. It leaped into the air and got up about ten feet before another gull intercepted it in mid-air and clobbered it as well. Around and around in the air they went. The crow that had taken off was forced back to the ground. Terri, trying not to interrupt my call, was mouthing “Oh my God” to her mother.

 At last, the cavalry arrived in the form of ten sleek and deadly crows. They sized up what was happening and immediately began dive-bombing the gulls. Pretty soon, they had the gulls on the run and were chasing them over the rooftops. Next, a larger community of crows came in and established a perimeter around our house from the surrounding trees and rooftops to make sure the gulls wouldn’t come back and try again. There must have been thirty or forty or more. The crow gang was ultimately victorious; however, the two crows that had gotten beaten up didn’t look as handsome or shiny as before the battle.

Dave Thomas

4/2/2026

Clucker is the name Pat has given to the crow that clucks like a chicken. We figure he must have been raised on a farm where chicken talk was all he heard.  He has been visiting us for over a year and has always made this sound. It’s been a matter of pride for us to know a bilingual bird. A recent happening makes us think he wants to add English to his language accomplishments.

We heard a ruckus at the front door and went to check it out. Clucker had landed on the wrought iron front railing that borders our front stoop. He clucked a little and then started rattling off gibberish that wasn’t understandable. As we listened to the cadence and inflection, we realized that it sounded like a human who was speaking a foreign language. His actions were like those of a person telling a story. When he finished his remarks, he joined his fellow crows on the driveway and began eating. It was as if he had delivered his message to us, and the ball was in our court. It seemed that he thought he was actually getting through to us. When he says something we can understand, I’ll let you know.

Dave Thomas

3/12/2026

Shaving can be the most boring part of the day.  I mitigate the ennui by drinking coffee while I shave. Being a low vision kind of guy, legally blind, I don’t have a need for a mirror, so I can shave in the kitchen or living room or wherever.  My normal routine is to shave my right cheek, take a couple of sips of coffee, shave the left cheek, take a couple more sips, and keep this up until done. The balance of the coffee is cold by this time, but it’s still coffee. While enjoying the aroma and taste of the coffee, my mind wanders, and I daydream and sometimes get constructive and try to plan the next story for my blog.

This morning, I got to thinking about the many places Pat and I have enjoyed a delicious cup of coffee. Some of the stories have been told already, so this time, I’ll just concentrate on locations. Our coffee drinking took place across a fair amount of the globe. We feel that for a working-class couple, who never had more than a 2-week vacation, that we’ve covered a lot of ground. From Montreal, Canada, in the North to Paris, France in the East, to Mazatlán, Mexico and La Paz, Baja California in the South, and Okinawa, Japan in the West, we got around!

I’ll try to only list recognizable places but will add places where we have been individually as well. Here we go:

Montreal, London, Warminster, Berkley, and Bath-all in England, Paris, Memphis, Cleveland, Detroit, Chicago, Milwaukee, Wichita, Oklahoma City, Dallas, Fort Worth, Waco, San Antonio, Houston, El Paso, Denver, Durango, Taos, Santa Fe, Gallup, Las Vegas, Scottsdale, Sedona, Prescott, Yuma, San Diego, Capistrano, Los Angeles, Santa Monica, San Francisco, McKinleyville,  and Palm Springs, Oahu, Lahaina, Kauai, Midway, Kwajalein, Guam, Iwakuni, and Okinawa.

Some of our journeys were done separately. Pat has been to London and Paris twice, and I have only been there once. She has been to Washington, D.C. and Seattle, Washington, and I haven’t seen either of them. She has also been to Victoria, British Columbia. I have also had coffee in Peal Harbor, Kwajalein, and Okinawa. Another solo trip for business was to Cleveland and Detroit.

Lots of fun and lots of coffee!

Dave Thomas

3/5/2026

It’s time we got past this red verses blue controversy which, in some cases, has deteriorated into nothing but pettiness, and return to the red, white, and blue that has symbolized our country for so long. This time, let’s consider the color white to be a remembrance of the millions of people of all skin colors and faiths who fought, struggled, and endured so that we might grow and prosper as we have.  Don’t let our history be destroyed. Stand up for America.

Dave Thomas

2/19/2026

Fort Worth, Texas is the only city in the world that has its own herd of longhorn cattle. They celebrate the history of the Texas trail herds every day at the Stockyards in Old Fort Worth in the northern part of town. The cattle are kept at a corral there at the Stockyards, and each day at 11:00 AM and 4:00 PM, city employees dressed as cowboys saddle up and perform a cattle drive down the street. The cattle go just a couple of blocks and round the corner and return to the corral. They have done it so many times they could probably do it without the help of any cowboys. Onlookers can stand at the curb to watch, or they can have a seat at an open-air restaurant nearby. It’s a great promotional idea and is fun to watch.

I’ve always thought of the longhorns as being brown in color, but that’s a mistake. They come in many colors, even white with black spots. Every one is different.

An interesting static display of a cattle drive can be seen in Dallas. There are several bronze statues of longhorns coming off a knoll and crossing a water feature. The cattle are 25% larger than life size and are tended by a bronze cowboy on horseback. These bronzes can be seen at Pioneer Plaza in Dallas. Another interesting feature there are bronze plaques embedded in the sidewall featuring the trail brands of the men who bossed the trail drives back in the old days.

Dave Thomas

2/12/2026

At the time, I was an AT3. That’s an Aviation Electronic Technician Third Class. That’s pay grade E4. I was attached to Patrol Squadron Forty-Eight, VP48, and stationed at North Island Naval Air Station in Coronado, California.

There were normally only 2 squadrons of seaplanes at North Island. That made a total of 24 seaplanes there.  I had been checking out the electronics on my plane but had knocked off for lunch and was heading for the hanger where I would be brown bagging it. I was walking down an aisle or lane between two rows of airplanes that were facing each other across this aisle. The aisle was probably 130 or 140 feet wide so as to accommodate a seaplane with 110-foot wingspan being towed through.

 I was walking for a few feet behind a 2^nd Class mechanic that I knew but didn’t care for. I noticed a dog trotting on a line that would intercept us. The dog looked like a pointer but also looked like he was starving as his ribs were showing. The dog trotted up abreast of the 2^nd Class who immediately kicked it. The dog yelped and went down though scrambling to try and regain his balance. I saw red, and, without thinking, advanced a couple of steps and booted that guy square in the ass. He went to his knees but jumped up swearing about all the things he was going to do to me. I told him that if he wanted to kick me like he kicked the dog, he should go for it. He changed his tune and said he would “write me up.” Writing me up would mean a Captain’s Mast which is like a trial with the Skipper for a judge. My record was clean, and I couldn’t afford any bad marks or judgements against me. It could cost me a stripe or a chance to advance to the next pay grade. That worried me.

I spent the next couple of days worrying about the guy writing me up. Fortunately, nothing came of it. I sure learned a lesson about taking action without giving some thought to the consequences.

Dave Thomas

02/05/2026