My Yard, the Wildlife Nursery

My Yard, the Wildlife Nursery

Goldfinch on thistle seed, Downy Woodpecker on suet, Rose-breasted
Grosbeak on the safflower seed.

My home was raw, sandy, pastureland when I came thirteen years ago. There was grass, but much of it the weedy and non-native Bromus and Kentucky Bluegrass, and here and there growths of the native and beautiful Big Blue Stem, Little Blue Stem, Switch Grass, and Needle & Thread Grass (I’ve always called it Hay Needles.)

There also was Bottlebrush, Sumac, Sage Brush, and lots and lots of Poison Ivy. (Sorry, native and natural or not, I had to dispatch the Poison Ivy with careful application of Roundup on just the individual leaves.) I hate supporting Monsanto even that much, but I couldn’t have poison Ivy growing everywhere—and I mean it was everywhere, three and four feet high sometimes!

A few trees too: Burr Oaks and Cottonwoods (I have planted hundreds [dozens of species] since.) There were maybe two hundred sixty-foot Cottonwoods growing just over the hill to the east, but after three years of standing in three feet of water (water that came from somewhere else thanks to rampant agricultural drainage!) most of those beautiful trees have died. The Oaks, thank goodness, are on higher ground. There also are plenty of Juneberry and Chokecherry trees but they are much smaller.

Rose-breasted Grosbeak on the sunflower seed feeder and female Baltimore Oriole on the orange.

Wildlife, yes, there were some. Ground-nesting Mourning Doves and at least one Meadowlark (Meadowlarks, unfortunately, are getting rare, and, believe me, there is no other harbinger of spring like the song of the Meadowlark!) The Red-winged Blackbird’s “Gurgle-lee!” is good, but I think the Meadowlark is best. Of course there were mammals too but I rarely saw them.

Two Red-winged Blackbirds. They are pretty big to cling to the hanging feeders but can get up there too, unfortunately.

Then I started building a house and hung up feeders. The house attracted Barn Swallows. Every year there are at least six nests on the house, and a Robin has found a spot too, and a Flycatcher. Birdhouses have attracted Bluebirds, Tree Swallows, and House Wrens. Black oil sunflower seed in the feeders have attracted Goldfinches, Blue Jays, Piine Siskins, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, and suet has attracted Downy, Hairy, and Red-breasted Woodpeckers. During spring and fall migration Slate-colored Juncos, White-breasted, White-crowned, Harris’s, and Fox Sparrows, partake from the ground beneath the feeders. (This year, for the first time, a Scarlet Tanager! It fed only on the suet.) Then the permanent residents Black-capped Chickadees, White-breasted Nuthatches, Chipping and Song Sparrows.

Male and female Baltimore Oriole. To the right, I think, is a male Orchard Oriole. They are smaller and darker.

And, alas, orange halves have attracted the beautiful Baltimore and Orchard Orioles. I say ‘alas’ because the first years I got by with just a few oranges. This year I think both species brought their families from last year and they have gotten quite demanding, even knocking on the window if I don’t feed them enough. (Sorry, I’m not going to admit how much they have eaten.) I did find out, though, that the orioles will also eat suet and the orange-fruited muskmelons. The melons were a good discovery because next year I will ply the supermarkets for overripe fruits.

Male and female Baltimore Oriole

About that knocking on the window: I’ve read about other people claiming certain birds will knock on windows, and other ways, to let them know about empty feeders and bird bathes. I’ve never been sure if I should believe such stories until this troop of orioles arrived, and they definitely let me know when the orange halves are empty! They won’t exactly knock on the window, but there is a narrow ledge where they can almost land, and the ‘bump’ lets me know. Seems it’s always either the female or a juvenile who does the ‘knocking’ as the beautiful males just eat and drink and bully the others!

Still haven’t gotten to the mammal nursery part. Cottontail Rabbits are having a population explosion. I didn’t realize it until seeing the widespread damage this spring of gnawed bark on my Chokecherries, Lilacs, and even Sumac, which surprised me. Much as I enjoy seeing (and talking to) those tiny little bunnies running around underfoot, next fall I may have to begin a dispatch campaign with them too.

Three of the bunnies. I wonder what is so interesting by my pickup?

If a coyote would visit once-in-awhile and do the job for me I would appreciate it. Unfortunately, most of my neighbors abhor coyotes and kill them with relish to protect their calves and lambs. They even know that a guard dog or burros would take care of the coyotes but they choose to not live with coyotes, which causes way overabundance of rabbits and gophers…oh, but of course rabbits and gophers can be poisoned. Right, no living with Mother Nature in these parts.

Besides the Cottontails there are Red and Fox Squirrels, an occasional Weasel, Mink, Badger, Skunk, Raccoon, Jackrabbit, White-tailed Deer, Ring-necked Pheasants, Turkeys, and untold numbers and species of waterfowl and shorebirds when Lake Gila (a marsh) to the south, is full.

Here are all four of the little darlings. The one in the middle is investigating a hole, and there is a hole right there. Has it found a source of nutritional minerals?

Tonight was one of the times I live for. There are four little bunnies living somewhere very, very, close to my house, in fact under the step. Quite often they are almost underfoot. (If you have ever seen the Disney movie Bambi [and who hasn’t?] remember Thumper, the rabbit, how he would take off so fast that his head would actually lay back on his body? Well, that’s what the live bunnies do too, the young ones, anyway. Are they purposely trying to be cute? I don’t know, but they are.) I’ve never seen all four at once, didn’t even know there were four, and what they saw so interesting about my pickup I will never know. Mom, of course, wasn’t far away.

And, finally, not far away, is Mom.

I love it here in the sandhills outback of eastern North Dakota. I will NEVER live in a town or city again, thank you very much!

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes

(Digital downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)

 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon

http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog

https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook

http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages

https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)

A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.

New World Order Rising Book 1 Excerpt 2

Among their many transgressions, the Illuminati have also been blamed for the many mass shootings in America, but, really, who are the Illuminati? They are the ultra rich politicians, CEOs, religious and educational leaders, law enforcement and military, ETC; they want to eliminate 85% of the world's population and have full control. In order to reach their goal they have to destroy America first, the only entity that could stop them.

 This subplot introduces their latest victim, Whit Malcolm (with ADHD and on drugs.) They abduct him, brainwash him, and send him back into the world to conduct a mass shooting and then commit suicide to prevent questioning, causing the liberals to again, fanatically, call for more and more gun control which would, inevitably, end in registration of all guns and eventual confiscation.

Even though this famous quote by Japan’s Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto is unsubstantiated, it still rings true: "You cannot invade mainland United States. There would be a rifle behind each blade of grass."

But if the liberals have their way, there would soon be no more American Minuteman.

****

Whit Malcolm’s day began like any other. Just a normal twenty-two-year-old guy, nothing special about him except that he was shy and mostly kept to himself, but that’s what made him special, and another perfect choice. His sparse but well-kept room was three blocks from work so he always walked. His walk took him past Arby’s. He could see the people inside. Some always looked back at him, their eyes wide and wondering. But there was nothing special about him, so he always wondered, why do they look at me?

The morning sky was lightening. He picked up his pace. Past the fast food joint was a block-sized park of mature trees, a small pond and singing birds. He always stopped for a moment, faced the park, the sunrise, and listened, remembering a far, far, back past…a pond of his own…he remembered the trees, the cattails, the bittersweet smell of unmoving water, the many birds singing, the frogs croaking.

 When he remembered that far back past his mind always wandered to the negative, to his mother making sure he took that pill in the morning and evening and twice during the day on the honor system. All through his youth he had never missed taking the pills, and had never discussed the side effects with anyone. He didn’t care. To keep everybody happy he just took the pills to be done with it.

Finally, long after his parents were gone, and he had insurance with his job, the human resources lady had called him to her office. He would never forget it, “…Whit, people have complained about you…” That was nothing new. It seemed people were always complaining about him for something or other. He remembered listening to her list the reasons: “…acting fidgety and dropping expensive ceramics, acting hyper and running when you should be walking, forgetting how to do things…” He heard her continue talking but managed to tune her out, until she came to the end, “We have good health insurance here, Whit, I would like for you to make an appointment. Maybe the doctor will increase your medication.”… He did hear the vehicle pull up beside him. He thought nothing of it. When the prick hit his buttocks he slapped at it. What felt like a bee sting was his last cognizant thought.

He didn’t remember his quick decent into the arms of his abductors.

****

Whit wondered where he was, and what he was doing. He could hear voices and could see two men—one older, one younger—talking before him. He thought they were speaking English but not one word could he understand. He managed to turn his head, both ways. There were two young men and one young woman to his left and slightly behind, and two young men to his right, also slightly behind. All five were just…sitting there, their eyes…he didn’t know. Their eyes said nothing, like they were sleeping with their eyes open. Whit had occasionally felt like that too. Both the men to his right, their arms…would jerk, slightly, and each time their head would jerk. Those two must be kind of crazy. He chuckled…at least it felt like he did. Then he managed to look down. His hands were folded neatly on his lap. He tried moving the top one. It moved but barely, and in slow-motion.

A picture came into his head of him firing a weapon. He loved firing guns, and loved the sound of the blasts. If he could do only one thing for the rest of his life it would be firing guns, all kinds, from the smallest .22 handgun to his favorite, a military fully automatic M16, a weapon he had never touched. He even liked BB guns, but BB guns didn’t make much noise.

He had not been in the military. He tried but it was discovered he had a heart murmur, whatever the hell that was, and also that stupid mental thing. ADHD they called it. He remembered—after finally making the appointment—sitting with the doctor as he read off a list of side effects. The memory was so strong, he could still actually hear the doctor’s voice: “…loss of memory…”—he hated forgetting things—“…mood changes…”—he knew that was true; he could go from happy to depressed in the space of seconds; he especially hated it when it happened at work, and made people stare at him—“…dry mouth…”—he really hated that too, to have to go get a drink between breaks and people always stared at him then, too, and getting a drink never helped; he would always be still thirsty—“…drowsiness…”—at times he actually fell asleep at work, until people started yelling at him—“…no appetite, funny taste, anxiety, ringing in his ears…” He shook his head and wished that fucking doctor would go soak his head or something! But on and on the list of side effects went: “…loss of one’s sense of reality or identity, abnormal dreams…”—he sometimes loved those ‘abnormal’ dreams, though—but he could never quite exactly remember them, and the side effect that really bothered him: “…Thoughts of suicide.” Those thoughts would come out of nowhere, like lightening in a thunderstorm. The doctor did increase his medication: One more per day. Fine! He would do what everybody wanted, if they would just leave him alone!

Usually he felt nothing physically, but for at least an hour every time after he took that stupid pill he would feel one or more of those stupid-stupid ‘side effects.’ But, normally, according to Whit Malcolm, he was one of the healthiest people around.

The strange voices intruded again. His mind picture disappeared as he focused on the two men…where are they? He thought the front of the room. There were two rows of chairs ahead of him. If he could just get closer maybe he could understand what they were saying. He told his legs to stand him up…his mind slipped to his far, far, back, past. He saw his father, or rather the silhouette of a man working with maybe a shovel—yes, it was his father…then he remembered that time being with his father while he was building a fence around a pond…his father wanted to keep the milk cows from wading and getting their udders wet and muddy…he remembered just being there, not helping as he was too young, really young, one of his first memories of watching his father and being with him and worshipping him as only a small boy can worship a father…His mind returned to the present.

He had just told his legs to stand him up. Of course he didn’t actually say anything to his legs; he just had the instinctive thought to stand and move. His legs did nothing. Whit realized that his legs did nothing, but he thought nothing out of the ordinary. He also realized that he didn’t think being unable to move his legs was unusual. He was there, wherever there was and that was all he knew for sure.

****

Excerpt of next scene: Discussions & plans (of the Illuminati abductors) (This excerpt also refers back to excerpt 1 and the abduction of Carter’s daughter and granddaughter.)

“How was your trip to the Mediterranean?” the older man, about sixty, asked.

“Very well, thank you,” the younger man answered, “I got to meet Masters himself.”

“Is he as autocratic as some say?”

“More so, a very commanding presence.”

“Did he like our offering?”

“Absolutely. He even seemed amazed that such a beauty existed in such a small child.”

“Is the abduction set?”

“Yes. Tomorrow. We know exactly where and when the mother and child will be.”

“You will be there?”

“I’ll be in charge. There’ll be two with needles, plus the driver. The abduction shouldn’t take more than a few seconds.

“Good.” The older man glanced toward Whit, “I like the new one for our next event. His record says he spends every possible waking moment shooting. Unfortunately, the poor fellow has no weapons of his own, so has to rent them at the shooting range.”

“I agree,” the younger man said, “His friends and co-workers know that about him, so when he performs his mission, and his remaining co-workers are interviewed by the police, nobody will be surprised. In fact, some likely will say they’re surprised Whit hadn’t gone off the deep end long before.”

****

Last short scene of chapter. Whit is getting instructions and training via brainwashing telepathy.

Study this dream carefully, Whit, and remember it. Someone had spoken. But nobody was close by…was the voice just in his head? And how could it know his name? Before Whit could determine where the voice had come from a new vision appeared. He saw people falling, and screaming. He saw much blood spurting. He looked down. A gun. He was firing the gun that was causing all the screaming and blood.

He watched for a few seconds, then shook his head. He tried. His head barely moved, but enough to end that horrible scene. And what was that scene? Was it one of his abnormal dreams?—but he was awake! It was daytime! He had enough mind left to realize that the scene was viciously violent, and something he would never, never, ever, do. So why was he dreaming that he would do it?

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes

(Digital downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)

 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon

http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog

https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook

http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages

https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)

A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.

The End of Taxes? Maybe so

How a person could live all his life and not get political I don’t know. But that’s what I’ve done, until experiencing the second term of our democrat-led administration, and even then it took the fanatical reach on gun-control by the liberals-from-hell to finally wake me up. Big government is going too far on way too many issues, so, as I write these blog posts it will be a learning experience for me.

A friend and shipmate recently introduced me to a book called the Fair Tax Book. I haven’t found the book yet, but I’ve heard of the “fair tax” concept. Of late it’s been appearing with great frequency on Facebook and other internet sites.

What is the ‘Fair Tax?’ Basically, income tax (and the IRS) would be eliminated—talk about a tax savings! How many employees does the IRS have? I don’t know, but I’m sure in the thousands, and their salaries are all in the thousands of dollars, plus the American citizen is…well, I hate to say afraid of the IRS, but look at the recent alleged acts (there’s that word ‘alleged.’) There’s nothing ‘alleged’ about it. The IRS has singled out conservative organizations to perform colonoscopies—sorry, I meant to say audits. I have no money to speak of, yet I fear an audit just because I’m writing a blog post that is anti-IRS.

To get back to what is the ‘Fair Tax,’ it’s also called a consumption tax: We would pay a federal sales tax on everything we buy. In other words, rather than the government removing money we’ve earned from our pay checks via the 1040 form, we would pay sales tax instead, meaning we will keep the money we earn and when we can afford the sales tax on something we want to buy, we can go buy it, which seems to me is pretty much how we do it now, only we’d have to save a little longer.

Back before the primaries in 2012 I wrote a series of blog posts promoting North Dakota’s Measure 2, that is, the elimination of property taxes. Very simply put, property taxes are a form of rent one must pay to live in your own home. Property tax is a scam, as it supports an office full of employees in every county, and hugely supports bloated school districts that feel they must keep up with the Jones’s, so to speak. Property taxes support other programs too, but salaries and schools are two of the costliest items. I would think the states could come up with sales tax ideas to replace property taxes, too. That way everybody pays. The rich people wouldn’t be able to pay attorneys and accountants to find all the loopholes, because loopholes would also go the way of the dodo bird and passenger pigeon.

Until 1913 we didn’t have a permanent income tax. During the War of 1812 it was proposed but never implemented. The Congress did introduce an income tax to fund the Civil War, a flat tax of 3% on incomes above $800, equivalent to $20,441 today. Here, verbatim from Wikipedia:

On July 12, 1909, the resolution proposing the sixteenth Amendment was passed by the Sixty-first Congress and was submitted to the state legislatures. Support for the income tax was strongest in the western and southern states and opposition was strongest in the northeastern states.

Opposition strongest in the northeastern states? But that’s where the money was. Go figure.

Anyway, we can thank the Sixteenth Amendment to the Constitution for our federal income tax, and some people are calling for a repeal of the Sixteenth. Does/Would every state have to support a repeal? I don’t know.

Here again, verbatim from Wikipedia:

Before an amendment can take effect, it must be proposed to the states by a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress or by a convention (known as an article V convention) called by two-thirds of the states, and ratified by three-fourths of the states or by three-fourths of conventions thereof, the method of ratification being determined by Congress at the time of proposal.

I have heard there is a bill pending for ‘Fair Tax’—right now!—before Congress.

Understood: The ‘Fair Tax’ would cause a lot of changes to be made.

Number One, the elimination of the IRS and the income tax code.

I’ve wondered just how big is that IRS book of rules?

Hang onto your hats, folks! In 1913 it was 400 pages long, which was long enough. Even 400 pages seems like a lot, but in 2003 it was 54,846 pages long—GOD HELP US!!!!

That amount of pages is not only mind-boggling but immoral, obnoxious, ETC.!

There are 1.2 million paid tax preparers in the U.S., legions of accountants, lawyers, and computer experts—some of the best minds in the country and, basically, they are contributing nothing to our standard of living. Those numbers are from the CATO Institute (a Libertarian think tank headquartered in Washington DC): 10 outrageous facts about the income tax. Look it up! I encourage everybody to do exactly that. It’s just a short and easy one-page read.

And here ends my first taxes blog post. I encourage everybody to get informed about taxes.

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes

(Digital downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)

 My memoirs are true—every word. In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon

http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog

https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook

http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages

https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)

A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.

New World Order Rising Book 1, an excerpt

In this chapter Carter Banks is introduced as the main character; he will have the main viewpoint. Chantal is his twenty-four-year-old daughter; she will have the viewpoint several times through the novel. Dodie is his six-year-old granddaughter; she will have the viewpoint twice.
(Novel to be published soon.)

Fargo, North Dakota, the Center of the World

4

The Abduction/The Son-in-law 1

Day One

Carter watched his daughter and granddaughter walking away. About another forty feet and they would turn left, cross the street, then walk two more blocks, turn right, and the second house on the left on that block was their new home. They lived close by, yes, but not like it could be out on the farm. Finishing their short vacation—Chantal had to be back for her weekend shift—the three of them had just spent the last three days and nights at his sister’s. He had—discretely—brought up the idea to his sister about the three of them moving out, eventually, to join them on the farm. His sister’s response did not surprise him: She loved the idea, and the sooner the better. Neither even mentioned husband Mason.

The mother and daughter turned left, crossed the street, and just before they would disappear behind the first house they stopped. Both waved.

Carter felt his face break out in a huge smile. Since Chantal was old enough to think for herself she had always waved just before she wouldn’t see her daddy anymore, and now she was teaching her daughter to do the same.

His heart swelled in fondness. How he loved those two children. Yes, Chantal was twenty-four, but she would always be his little girl. They kept waving and moved on, and he kept waving…then they disappeared. His heart gave an extra little beat, as it always did, as if he feared he wouldn’t see his children again—

He turned away to re-enter his own house. Through peripheral vision he saw a white van pass, going down the same street as his children, but he just saw it; his mind told him nothing, then…brake lights? Someone Chantal knows?...Or, what?

His heart gave a second beat, a little louder—tires squealing, as if the van had stopped quick. His heart kept making itself known. A few more seconds passed. Another squeal, just a quick squeal, as if the van had taken off quick.

Carter didn’t spend any more time thinking about it. He moved quickly to the street sidewalk, then broke into a run. He reached almost to the next street. He knew in the short amount of time passed that Chantal and Dodie should only be about halfway down the block. He slowed. He didn’t want his two girls to know that he had run after them for probably no good reason. But as he got closer to that street, straining his neck to see…he saw nobody.

What the hell?

Again he broke into a run, both blocks, turned right, and in the second house on the left he would find his two darling children. How could they have gotten there so quickly? Had they ran? If so, why? He reached the sidewalk to their house. His heart was now pounding, and not from the exertion of his run. He forced himself to walk quietly and calmly to the door, wondering what reason he could give for chasing after them.

He reached the door. He knocked. What reason? What reason?

Nobody came to the door. The door was locked.

Maybe they went straight to the back yard. He headed that way, reached the driveway, saw his son-in-law bent over his new chariot. He didn’t even know what kind of car it was. He didn’t care. And where had the man gotten the money to buy such an expensive-looking vehicle? He had never liked Chantal’s choice of a man. He and his daughter had never connected on that, and he definitely had never connected with, “…Mason…!” He hoped that hadn’t gone out too loudly.

Mason straightened up and smiled, but the smile sent was the biggest lie Mason had ever told, “Yeah, Carter, what’s up?”

The man had never once called him Mr., or Sir, not once, and not that Carter would have demanded—or even wanted—that he should, but right from the start, the very first time Chantal brought him home he didn’t like the man—he just didn’t like him, “Where’s Chantal and Dodie?”

The smile disappeared and a worse lie took its place, “I just got home from work. I thought they were visiting you.”

“They were. They just left. They should be here.” Carter was doing his best to stay calm.

“Well, they aren’t. And, Christ, if they just spent yesterday and today, and…whatever, with you….” Mason didn’t finish whatever he wanted to say. Maybe he saw the heat coming from his father-in-law’s face and thought better of it.

Carter retained his calmness and started for the back door, “They were with me longer than that. I’m checking inside.”

“I haven’t unlocked yet, Carter, and, anyway, they aren’t there.”

Carter spun, “Then where the hell are they?”

Mason’s face lost all hint of a smile or any kind of friendliness. The man was actually taller and heavier than Carter’s lean forty-seven-year-old frame but he moved to the other side of his chariot before putting out still another probable lie, “I don’t know.”

But Carter felt he did know, but what did he know? How could he know? “I’m calling the police.” He drew out his phone and turned away.

“Good Christ, man,” Mason said, “Maybe they stopped at a friend’s house.”

Carter spun, “If Chantal knows even one family locally she hasn’t told me. You kids haven’t been here long enough to barely get moved in.”

“Well, maybe your little girl doesn’t tell you everything.”

Carter felt rage at that sarcasm—and he felt certain Mason knew something. How could he not? He turned away wondering if he should have jumped in his old pickup right away and gave chase.  But his pickup was in the closed garage, and tires squealing could mean anything, and how could he have explained to Chantal why he came rushing after her and Dodie when nothing had happened? But something did happen. He dialed 911.

****

In the two seconds it took for 911 to answer, Carter’s thoughts covered Chantal’s and Dodie’s lives, the good, the questionably-bad, the beautiful, and now this—

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My daughter and granddaughter have just been abducted.” He could barely believe what he had just said, but what else could it be?

“Did you see who took them, sir?”

“No.”

“Then why do you say they’ve been abducted?”

He spent the next minute and a half explaining what he had heard and what he did, and all other pertinent information.

“I’ll dispatch a detective to you, sir.”

“A detective?! For Christ’s sake we need a squad car, we need roadblocks, we need an Amber Alert, we—“

“Sir, if you didn’t actually see anything—“

“A white van! I told you! It couldn’t have gotten more than a few blocks! It’s still in the city—my god, you have to do something!”

“I’ve sent the detective, sir.”

He hung up.

“So…?” came Mason’s voice, “What’s up?”

Carter took two deep breaths before he turned, “They’re sending a detective.”

Mason laughed, “And he will check every house between here and your place to see if anybody saw something, and in one of the houses he’ll find your little girl.”

Just the way Mason said ‘little girl,’ just the tone of his voice, made Carter’s fists tighten. How he would love to smash that face, just once, but there were more important things to concern him, “We’ll see.” He turned away and walked to the edge of the street.

End of Chapter 4

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes

(Digital downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)

 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon

http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog

https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook

http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages

https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)

A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.

The B-word, "Bitch," That is

In The Forum, Fargo, North Dakota, Friday, May 10, 2013, there appeared an article written by local journalist, Meredith Holt, entitled “The B-word.” A well-written article and the subject did need examining, I suppose, but I do take issue with it…the word, not the article.

What on earth do women want?

Well, they want respect, for one thing, and good for those who want that and get that. Most women deserve it. But are they so desperate for respect and acceptance, that they would lower themselves to okaying the use of—and being called—the B-word…“bitch,” that is?

Like football. I know some women have learned to “like” football. Why? Did they do it to earn the respect of their significant other? And if they did it for that reason, did it help? I doubt it. If there was no respect before their liking football, there very likely wouldn’t be after either. Of course there is the distinct possibility that if a woman begins liking football that she really does like it. I even know of at least one woman interviewing football players…so she must like it, and maybe even understands it.

Myself? I still get along just fine by not liking—or understanding—football, thank you very much!

Sure, as the article states, “bitch” can possibly have positive connotations, if the right person, man or woman uses it in a positive way. But probably better most often if it’s a woman saying it. This could be compared to a black man calling another black man “nigger.” It’s evidently OK if a black man says it, but racist if a white man says it.

See what I mean?

I have been in love with, given love to, and received really great love from, three wonderful women in my sometimes-very-sheltered life. Not only did I never call any of the three a bitch, I also never thought the word toward them. On the phone with one of those three once, I heard the little girl in the background scream “Bitch!” at her mother. I asked to speak to the child, and told her what I thought, and that she should never call her mother that word again. She didn’t, but before I came along she must have heard that word used by a former boyfriend in reference to her mother, which, in the child’s mind, made it okay for her to use the word too.

Name-calling is name-calling. Name-calling a woman a bitch is the lower-caste way of insulting, offending, humiliating, emotionally hurting, a woman. The one using that word evidently wants to hurt her. I don’t even believe in name-calling…well, maybe jackass, and dumbass—I know I’ve thought those words at least a few times, but never toward a woman.

Looking back, I guess I do remember calling a certain woman a bitch one time, but only in my thoughts. Had I said it to her face she probably would have kicked the shit out of me. (She was not only big but really mean-looking.)

It must sound like I think all—or most—woman are angels, or that I plain worship women.

I don’t.

Women can be scoundrels the same as men.

I think of my many nieces: I would hate to think that any of them are settling with being called a bitch, for any reason—by their husband, boyfriend, or any man—because none of my nieces match that word, not ever. And my many nephews too: I would hate to think that any would use that word to emotionally beat down their wife or girlfriend, or any other woman.

In my mind the only reason to use that word is to hurt. It will never be a politically correct or cutesy word, although I know both men and women use it, and, evidently—from reading that article—are promoting it. (I know Hollywood promotes it: e.g., in one scene from Two & a Half Men, cute little Jake, maybe 11 or 12 at the time, is on a cell phone evidently with a girl. He says, “…if you’ll be my bee-itch…” Of course daddy Alan snaps at him, but how many hundred thousand young men and more importantly young boys and girls heard that cutesy use of the word and were influenced by it?)…but, of course, we all know one day Hollywood will probably drop into the sea, unless a brand new rising volcano doesn’t get it first.

The thing is, folks, that word is going to continue meaning just what it means. If a man, or woman, calls a woman a bitch, they will mean it just like the word means, has always meant, and always will mean—Bitch!!!!

In my mind, the contemporary call to political correctness is way out-of-control, and if you think expanding and okaying the use of that word will eventually make it mean something else, well, good luck!

Unfortunately, I could be wrong, because the word is getting introduced to our young people earlier and earlier in their life.  (That’s how society gets changed: Introduce it to the young.) Young men and even younger boys are using it to refer to their young girlfriends, and some young girls are—for now at least—accepting it. Young people need to hear from their parents, ministers, teachers, about respect and honor.

As a last word (the following words inside quotation marks are verbatim from the article; thank you, Meredith) in Holt’s article she mentions artist, Kristine Wallen, who “…uses the word to describe herself as a greeting with friends, and in her collages.”

Wallen continues, “It’s just like saying, ‘Hey, girl,’ ‘Hey, sweetheart,’ ‘Hey, love,’”

Well, I’m going to have to agree with Wallen’s fifteen-year-old son. He’s evidently not a fan of the word, or of his mother using it: “Really, Mom? The B-word? Do you have to do that?” Good for him. I hope he shares those feelings with his young friends.

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes

(Digital downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)

 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon

http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog

https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook

http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages

https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)

A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.

New World Order Rising Book 1: An Excerpt

                                                                    Take a look around, folks, our nation is a changin’ and that change is being brought about by a group of elitists who don’t have a lot of clues about the real world, except taxes and power.

Many of our politicians and the Illuminati are elitists. Are they one and the same? I don’t know, I don’t think so, and I hope not. Do the Illuminati exist, as a lot of conspiracy theorists claim? Are they as bad as the theorists say? Are they presently telling our leaders/politicians what to do? I think they are, and I think many of our leaders/politicians don’t require much pushing. There likely is money involved, and isolated islands, hell, maybe even an outlying planet if they listen good and play their cards right.

Think I’m kidding? I wish I was.

I think—right now!—thanks to the dumbing-down of our population by our noses stuck constantly in our electronic toys, that we are approaching a time very quickly where a strong and very unfriendly foe will be attempting to take the reins of our country…from within.

The liberals have been in charge for the last five years. Some things have happened. The dollar, thanks to nearly incomprehensible spending to save huge banks and companies “…too big to fail…,” as the president said, plus out-of-control entitlement spending, plus government-run heathcare that anyone with a brain does not want (according to one poll only 35% of the population approves of it) the list goes on, and just recently that “..too big to fail…” quip has gone out again!

There is a good chance the liberals will stay in control with the 2016 election, thanks to way too many people not following issues and voting name recognition only…and there is a very big and well known name heming and hawing about running right now.

Please don’t get me wrong, folks. The far, far, far, right, wing conservatives in power would be just as bad as the far, far, far, left wing liberals we have now in power and are stuck with for three more years.

My question: Whatever happened to the majority middle of moderation?

I will answer that: They are unemployed and being taxed out of existence.

Back to the Illuminati, who conspiracy theorists suggest are already in power telling many of our leaders what to do, when to do it, and how to do it, voting, that is. A comparatively new theory (new to me, anyway) suggests the Illuminati are also “creating” the mass shootings by brainwashing certain young men already on psychosomatic drugs. After the young men complete their “mission” they commit suicide, or, are so psyched out that they don’t know anything. And each mass shooting just adds to the rabidity of the liberals to demand more and more gun control.

No matter how they spin the “Expanded Background Check” the end goal is registration and eventual confiscation. (New Orleans after Katrina is well aware of gun confiscation: A not well-known fact.) You see, in order for the Illuminati to fully take power the American Minuteman (the civilian gun owner) must be disarmed.

My theory: The Illuminati are guilty of everything they are charged with; from child abduction; human trafficking; Satanist sacrifice; destruction of the middle class, extinction of 85% of the world’s population (through war, GMOs, pollution, released diseases [Chinese scientists have “created” a virulent virus from two relatively benign ones, and the Chinese Illuminati are rumored to be the largest and strongest group]) the remaining 15% of the world’s population would be used as slaves to care for the elite Illuminati; and creating a one world government, monetary system, military, and religion.

(Sorry, that was a very long sentence: A whole paragraph!)

The list of their goals goes on, but my god that’s enough to digest in one reading.

My new novel New World Order Rising, in which I fictionally examine the Illuminati, is getting close to release. After 48,000 words I reached the end and saw that the story definitely is not finished, so now I’m working on book 2, and realize there will be need for a book 3, as the facts are, folks, if the American Minutemen have to eventually fight the Illuminati and their allies (some say aliens presently living in deep underground military bases) the battle will go on for more than one generation.

To conclude, folks, these elitists know that America has to be taken down first. If that happens they expect the rest of the world will fold quickly. The American military would be put under the control of the elitists, and right now the liberal elitists are trying to disarm the American Minuteman. We must not let that happen.

The framers of the Constitution wrote the Second Amendment for just such an occasion as tyranny taking over the leadership of our country.

In that vein then, here is the prologue to book one: New World Order Rising Book One.

Some of you may already have seen the prologue as I posted part of it some time ago, but now that the book is getting close to release I will post it again, and will post at least two more excerpts later.

Prologue

An isolated island in the Mediterranean

Masters

The old man stopped before one of the huge mirrors that graced most walls in his home. He looked at himself, looked into his gray eyes, at his blue-gray hair. Yes, he was old, but the lines on his face—to him—showed his life, the high and low points, the triumphs and failures, but most of all his rise to near the top of the pyramid. He looked at his nametag. No, it was not made from plastic and pinned to his suit; rather it was part of his suit.

It read Masters.

A good name for one of the elite of the world.

He moved onto his balcony. Still chilly, but the view of the sunrise was most beautiful there. He walked to the table and set his drink down, then moved on to the wall overlooking the bay. The eastern sky was brightening; it wouldn’t be long. He stood there quietly, thinking…the man from the United States would be arriving later, with, he hoped, good news. Something he had waited for all his life. Running his bank and his company, both of which supplied all sides and elements of war, had been good to him. Financially he had wanted for nothing, emotionally his life was empty. Any time he wanted a woman, though, after one phone call usually only ten or fifteen minutes would pass and she would be there, at his beckoning, for whatever he wanted. They all were good, adept at their trade, but lacking in true emotion.

That’s what his life had lacked: True love. Meaningful emotion. Honesty. Certainly, his servants all did their best; they all pleased him, and they all took their money and went to their own homes at night.

Then the phone call came from the United States, and the message that the man had what he wanted: A female of the purest beauty and innocence. Someone he could train to love him.

He returned to the table and sat down. The sun cracked the horizon. He took a drink. Vodka especially warmed him in the morning. He watched as the blazing orb left the water of the bay and lifted into low hanging clouds. Then, as if a curtain falling, the clouds reached the water and obscured the fire, but they had not prevented the sunrise. So often it happened in that way.

He smiled.

An hour passed. He heard his cook moving about in the kitchen. He heard his maid straightening up…whatever: Nothing was ever out of place. He heard the doorbell chimes and heard his butler open the door and speak to the visitor.

Another moment passed.

“Sir…?” came the voice of the butler, “Your visitor from the United States is here.”

“Thank you. Show him to the den please.”

“As you wish, sir.”

The old man returned to his balcony and gazed toward the mainland, toward where the masses lived and bred and dirtied their environment. Humanity was destroying the earth. Soon the destruction would stop. Soon the elite would assume their supreme destiny, as guardians and benefactors of the earth. He waited five more minutes, savoring his anticipation, then moved to the door to the den, and opened it.

The man waiting was still standing. He didn’t know him, just knew he was good at what he did. The elite always knew the best to hire for whatever job was needed. The man held up a CD. The old man indicated the CD player. The man switched the machine on and inserted the CD.

A few seconds passed, then, on a huge wall screen appeared a child, a girl child with hair the color of the richest raw oil. She looked at the camera. Her blue eyes brightened the entire room. She was the epitome of the purest beauty and charm, and more beautiful than the sky and the earth together.

Then the girl looked behind her. The camera moved to include the mother, also the rarest of beauty.

“I want the child,” the old man said, “Do as you wish with the mother.”

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes

(Digital downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)

 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon

http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog

https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook

http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages

https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)

A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Prices vary from $0.99-$2.99.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.

The Killdeer Shuffle: An Observation

Sorry I don't have a photograph. After a really long winter I haven't started carrying my camera yet, so I'll go put it on my belt right now! (I did it.) One never knows when that show-stopping photo will appear. I was even in the house and could have gone after it, but then the show may have stopped, as that's how nature operates. (Ya gotta be there!) No more excuses. I didn't go after the camera but I did get to witness the Killdeer shuffle.

As it was, I happened to be in the right spot at the right time, a ringside seat in fact. It started with one killdeer just standing there, about thirty feet away, right where I park my vehicle. The next time I looked, maybe five minutes later, there were three, inside a moving circle maybe three or four feet in diameter, and they all looked exactly alike. Well, something must be happening so I watched. First one would make a short run at another, a sort of gentle attack. The attackee, then, would jump and make a couple wingbeats and land again, still in that very small area. Then all three would play Ring-around-the-Rosey for a few seconds. Then they would all stop. Then one would take that attack-run at another again, and on and on and on this went. The activity lasted for a good ten minutes. (Yes, I could have ran after my camera. Sorry!)

What were they doing? I don't know. Later I looked in all my reference material. If there's a difference between male and female the books didn't tell me. (I think in "most" Shorebirds there is little if any difference in the sexes. Before today I haven't even wondered.)

So I will make a guess.

I know with some species the males will arrive first and stake out a territory for later nesting. It could have been three males sparring, but they weren't very violent with each other.

Another guess would be two males and one female. The short little run would have been the male making moves to the female. Consequently, it would have been the female that jumped and gave the wingbeats. So did the males take friendly turns pursuing the female? Good question. I just hope they don't decide to nest right there on my parking spot, because then I would have to park elsewhere for awhile.

In past years they have nested about 200 feet west, about halfway to the mailbox, and right in the middle of the road, which allowed me to straddle them as I passed. To my knowledge all broods  survived.

Some fun facts:

Charadrius vociferus is the zoological name of the Killdeer
Charadrius is the generic name and includes 31 other species
Charadriidae is the family name (Plovers & Turnstones) (63 species worldwide)
Charadriiformes is the order name (Shorebirds, Seagulls, Auks) (about 350 species worldwide)
Carinatae is the superorder name and includes all birds except flightless ones (like ostriches.)

The killdeer breeds from Florida and the Gulf of Mexico to Quebec and northern Ontario.
It's 9-11” long; its song/cry is a continuous kill-dee!; it lays 3-5 eggs, incubation 24-28 days by both male and female; it's precocial, meaning the chicks leave nest soon after hatching, within a couple hours; independent at 25 days and will spend time flying with parents before their migration trip south.

If danger threatens, the parent bird will feign injury of its wing to draw a predator from the nest; if the first feign doesn't do it the parent will return and repeat until the feign works and the predator is drawn far away from the nest. At that time the parent's wing magically heals.

One last really interesting...fact...?

One of my books states "the pear-shaped eggs in the nest have the points facing each other" Why?
Another book states "two days before babies peck their way out of their shells they are conversing in peeps and learning to understand their parents’ calls.

People smarter than me haven't said those two facts are related, but the only way those eggs' pointed ends could face each other would be that the parent birds do it, and "if" they do that, "why" do they do it? The answer, to me, would be so that the baby birds still inside the eggs "can" converse with each other.

Thanks for reading

 Author’s notes

(Digital downloads $0.99-$4.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)

 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)

A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Digital prices vary from $0.99-$4.99.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.