As I write this post I am looking across the top of my desk at a box. 

The box is approximately the length of the desk but annoyingly taller than the desk's surface.  It is almost a foot and a half deep and even though it is jammed-up tight against the desk it crowds the doorway.

Comfortably ensconced in its factory packaging the occupant of the box is what I have christened - The Giant Conundrum.

Every time I sit at the desk I ponder the conundrum. 

You cannot help but ponder it as it is so obviously huge and in your face.

Periodically I curse the conundrum.  Like I said - it blocks the doorway and I can no longer pass freely with briefcase and gym bag in the morning.

Every so often my wife metaphysically wrestles with the conundrum as if manipulating a massive virtual Rubik's Cube.  With her tape measure in-hand she takes valuable time out of her day in a valiant attempt to cypher a home for it.  She finds no solution to the puzzle.  The conundrum remains in the box. 

It's just too damn big.  

Sometimes I chuckle over my peculiar good fortune.  Of all the possible places it might have ended-up the conundrum has come to reside in our house.

You're thinking - What the heck is he talking about and why is it a conundrum?  

Well, by definition a conundrum is: A paradoxical, insoluble, or difficult problem; in short - a dilemma.

And I have a dilemma on my hands.  A problem of sorts.

You see, inside the box is a 42 inch plasma television.  I won it in a raffle at a recent charity fundraiser.  My investment was $100 worth of raffle tickets.

You might say - That's a helluva conundrum, Tom.

Yeah, but consider this, I wouldn't go out of my way to purchase one of these suckers.

My wife and I might just be that last surviving souls in Wauwatosa to not be cable or satellite television subscribers.  Don't forget, I'm the only guy who hasn't a clue from one year to the next who the American Idol is.  I admit it.  I am a cultural lowbrow. 

We've downsized our living space.  Our modest Tosa bungalow doesn't have a wall sufficiently large enough to accommodate the conundrum. 

There might just be one particular location we could possibly install this monolith of Korean electronics and only partially block one window - but then we would be sitting so close to it I wonder if we might not blind ourselves or grow wrinkled and leathery while basking in the warm glow of its radiation. 

We thought about moving it to the house up north.  Nope, too many windows and too little unbroken wall space.  Imagine favoring sunlight over giant television space - what a glaring engineering faux pas.

Someone suggested expanding the unfinished bungalow attic into a master suite complete with a whirlpool bath or maybe finishing the basement of the up-north house with a vast man cave complete with bar and slate-topped pool table - either of which would accommodate a surround sound system easily adapted to the conundrum.  These are all terrific ideas but my all-knowing wife gives me the all-knowing look.

So, for the present, the conundrum will continue to remain under wraps (and our electric bill will remain affordable) while we consider its options for the future.

The conundrum really belongs in a home theater.  Or does it?

Maybe I could put it in the machine shed up north?

It's a cavernous space.  

Hundreds upon hundreds of square yards of unfinished walls.  Metal walls too - outstanding acoustics.  It's filled with all manner of guy junk - a bunch of tractors, fishing boat, a couple of bush hogs, disc/harrow, pick-up truck, scraper blade, compressor, beer fridge, radial arm saw, 3-D deer target, microwave, giant chemical mix tank, four wheeler, patio table (with Labatt Blue Beer umbrella), deer hoist, a well-ordered collection of tools, canoe, sprayers, lawn mowers, a flock of goose decoys, various hazardous chemicals, boom boxes, giant jugs of hydraulic fluid, gear and motor oil, loader with bucket, Jerry cans of diesel and gasoline, chain saws and dead spiders. 

What it doesn't have is a plasma television.

At least yet.

Last weekend I set out on an annual summer pilgrimage - my 16th consecutive one - riding the Scenic Shore 150 on behalf of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of Wisconsin.  This is a two-day bike trek from Mequon to Sturgeon Bay that raises funds for blood related cancer research and patient services.

940 riders this year - a far cry from barely a hundred riders at the first event 15 years ago.  With a fund-raising goal of $550,000 - there is $525,000 already in the bank and more checks rolling-in daily.  These funds stay in Wisconsin.

Saturday dawned with rain.  Followed by more rain. I had to turn-on my strobe so traffic could see me in the fog.  My buddies and I kept thinking that with the equivalent of a cup of water in each shoe we stood a reasonable chance of getting trench foot.

Spend a day in wet bike shorts and you might contract a bad case of monkey butt.

Speaking of rashes - rain has a tendency to work all of the sharp debris out of the tarmac leading to a rash of flat tires, low visibility, diminished brake performance and road rash from riders dumping their bikes.

Anyway - I'm tooling down the road and some guy passes me.  He's wearing a Cranky Al's jersey. 

I ask - Hey, are you from Tosa?

He turns to me and says - Yeah.

I think - I know this guy from somewhere.

I say - Hey, you're Krol.  Jim Krol, the Alderman.

Small world.

Alderman Krol is one tough hombre.  He rode an additional 25 miles earning bragging rights for riding 100 miles the first day followed by 75 more the second. 

Conditions were drier by the time we reached Sheboygan.

Big party at the overnight camp at UW Manitowoc.  A couple of live bands, pasta dinner and Sprecher beer.  (Free beer)

And the usual silliness.

Sunday morning it was back on the road with a glorious July day busting-up the fog.

A finish at Potawatomi State Park with a BBQ and corn roast cookout, live music, more Sprecher beer and a massage. 

The beer was free - not the massage. 

More coverage courtesy of Fox 11 News.

A big thanks to the 125 volunteers who supported the ride.  Managing the logistics of this event is mind-boggling. 

If any of you want to join in the fun next year as a rider or volunteer just see me - Captain - Team Swill.

Tom

Oh - by the way - no flats, crash or rash (for me anyway).

Back in the good-old-days medical treatments were simple and straight-forward.  Opiates and alcohol were the pharmaceuticals of choice - sometimes concocted in interesting combinations.  The practice of bloodletting - a procedure to relieve the body of the ill humors - was immensely popular.

Intended to heal the sick it probably killed quite a few people as well.  It maybe killed George Washington. 

Maybe not.

Anyway my barber no longer pulls teeth, amputates limbs or administers leeches.  Given his shaky hands he no longer uses a straight razor.  This is a good thing.

To be fair - leeches have enjoyed a remarkable comeback and occupy a useful niche in modern medicine - although I am of the opinion that they are better suited as walleye bait.

I have a good feeling today having had a really good bleeding.

This was donation number 140. 

Visualize seventeen and a half gallons of blood.  Blech. 

The nice people at the Blood Center of Wisconsin always give me a call as soon as I'm eligible to donate.  They tell me that is because I belong to the seven percent of the population sharing the O-negative blood type - meaning I am a universal donor. 

In the world of blood products this is the equivalent of always being the guy that has to buy a round of drinks.

The blood people also tell me I am CMV negative - apparently making my blood particularly suited for use with infants or patients with compromised immune systems. 

Yep.  I buy another round.

Since the blood people have apparently screened, studied and analyzed my blood down to the last corpuscle they've gone out of their way to point out that I also happen to have (what they characterize as) Robust T-Cells.  The resulting consequence of which is they've roped me into participating as a lab rat in Dr. Jack Gorski's NIH study on how to improve vaccines.

With all that going for me you'd think I could sell the stuff, get rich and retire. 

Nope.  Only voluntary donations allowed.

I'm still buying.

On the flip side I take perverse satisfaction in knowing that there's a growing population of kids out there who have some of my hemoglobin coursing through their veins.

Consider the possibility that - having been transfused with my blood - all of the those youngsters will grow-up, manifest my personality traits and move to Tosa.

Gives you the creeps - eh?

If you're looking to do a good turn and earn a warm and fuzzy feeling I recommend a good bleeding - at the Blood Center.

There's a convenient Tosa location over on Watertown Plank Road. 

Call 1-877-BE-A-HERO and schedule an appointment.

As of Wednesday afternoon they tell me that in the past couple of weeks they've periodically been down to a one day supply.

You never know - you might need a unit or two someday.

There is no substitute.

Tom

Today is the 64th anniversary of D-Day.

A day noted by the largest invasion armada ever assembled in the history of mankind.  A Tosan happened along shortly thereafter. 

Howard Gaertner arrived on the European continent on June 10, 1944.

Utah Beach - D+4

He had trained with the 78th Division in a weapons company - mostly as a 60mm mortar gunner.  Just before debarking England he was reassigned to the 9th Division, M Company, 3rd Battalion, 47th Infantry Regiment, in a heavy machine gun squad.

As an infantry replacement his MOS didn't carry much weight.

Speaking of weight, the army's .30 caliber water-cooled Browning machine gun was capable of a sustained rate of fire.  The drawback was weight.  (Click on images to enlarge).

In combat the steam can was abandoned in favor of an extra can or two of ammo.  Resourceful GIs figured you could just as easily refill the water jacket by peeing in it.

The 9th isolated the Cotentin Peninsula and captured the important port of Cherbourg.

They wheeled-about and prepared for Operation Cobra - the breakout from Normandy's hedgerow country - The Bocage.

In a prelude to the breakout on July 25th over 3000 U.S. aircraft carpet bombed a designated sector near Saint-Lô.  In one of the war's most stunning examples of fratricide allied troops were pounded by their own air force with errant ordnance. 

The 47th's 3rd battalion HQ was annihilated - hundreds of GIs killed and wounded. 

The 9th advanced - suffering casualties at incredible rates -  yet advanced further than any other division.

Their next major engagement was the Falaise Gap and first contact with British troops.  On or about August 18-19 the Ninth reassembled outside Chartes, France. The battalion was attached to the 3rd Armored Division Combat Command B for support - the final leg of Patton's dash across northern France.

Howard's unit crossed into Belgium on or about September 1st or 2nd - the first Allied force to commence the liberation of Belgium.

On September 3rd the 9th regrouped at Phillipeville, Belgium and prepared to cross the Meuse River on September 5th.  Advancing in assault boats under the cover of darkness - the engineers unwittingly deposited a large number of troops on an island - not on the east bank of the river.

At day-break they were sitting ducks for German mortars and Howard's all-expense-paid, government-arranged tour of northern Europe came to an abrupt halt.  

After being evacuated to the 114th US Army hospital in Kidderminster, England he was subsequently released and reclassified; not to return to the 9th.

He returned home with a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star (with Clusters) and German shrapnel for his troubles.

Dad still lives in Wauwatosa.

Tom

____________________________________________________________________

Post Script 

In 264 days of combat the 9th Infantry Division suffered:

2,905 KIA

792 missing

868 captured

14,066 wounded

18,631 battle casualties

15,233 non-battle casualties

Percent of T/O strength 240.4

Prisoners of war captured 113,324

They were known as Hitler's Nemesis.

___________________________________________________________________________

A popular film featured the 9th.  Can anyone name both the title and the actor who played the leading role?

Here it is.  I admit it.  I know absolutely nothing about The American Idol.

Sometimes I think I am the last person on the planet that hasn't had my cultural pedigree enhanced by this phenomenon.

This is a chronic affliction that first manifested itself at a company Christmas party a number of years ago.  We were engaged in a festive camaraderie of potluck food and and Secret Santa - you know - where everyone has to bring a gift valued below a certain amount and it gets thrown into the bag and the managing partner wears his Santa Hat and redistributes the gifts.

The gift I receive is obviously a festively-wrapped CD.  Peeling-off the wrapping I announce I have a Clay Aiken album.

This is met with a chorus of oohs and ahhs.  What do I do?  I lamely ask - so who is this - a rising country music star?

I am clueless.

I trade the CD for a more valuable gift - a small mag light.  As a result this Aiken guy left a small impression on me.

It gets worse.

I few years ago I have to go to New York on business and because it is on the company tab I stay in a fancy schmaltzy hotel adjacent to Central Park. 

Before I leave I have to go to the front desk to settle a charge and am chagrined to find the space of all three desk clerks occupied by a very humongous man in gangsta clothing - you know - baggy shorts that hang to the ankles, over-sized expensive basketball shoes,  a stiff baseball hat worn backwards and what appeared to be about 400 pounds of jewelry. 

I'm a bit frustrated as I'm in a hurry to catch a cab and not miss my flight home and this guy and his people are taking-up all of the space at the front desk and his people are arguing with the hotel people. 

I stay out of it since I figure it's New York, it's basically weird, it's some sort of important rapper dude and you know me - I don't want any trouble.

The entourage eventually resolves whatever issues they have and moves-on.  I spend all of about a minute taking care of my business with the nice lady behind the counter and turn to my buddy Bob and say - Sheesh, let's grab a cab and split.

Bob replies - Hey, you know who that guy was?

Nope.

That was Ruben Stoddard.

Who the hell is Ruben Stoddard?

You moron, he's the American Idol.

Yes - still clueless. 

So there you have it.  I wouldn't know who the American Idol was if the Idol showed-up on my front porch to serenade me.

I am a cultural lowbrow.

Tom

Did you ever Google yourself?

You know - plugging your name into Google and searching to see what you get.

The American Dialect Society voted Googlegänger as winner of the Most Creative category for 2007 words.

How gratifying to know that this generally nonproductive office pastime now has a name.

So here goes:

If you Google Thomas Gaertner here's what you get.

One of the hits is for this guy.  Go ahead - click on the link - Thomas Gärtner.   

Alright.  Doesn't this guy bear an uncanny similarity to someone else we know?

Is it possible the three of us are related?

Did someone get separated at birth?

Or is this coincidence?

If you have any plausible theories feel free to post them and I'll publish them all in a couple of days.

Tom

In January of 1990 I experienced a life-altering event.

I had a bad accident engaging in a seemingly fun winter sport -

Tobogganing.

There was no booze or drugs involved - just my girl friend, a bunch of friends and the kids having a blast on a sunny Sunday.

The crash left me with an unstable burst fracture of the twelfth thoracic vertebrae. 

Things were not looking very good for Tom.

Quickly collecting opinions from various docs - one surgeon seemed to stand-out.

His claim was that he could get me on my feet in practically no time.  Well - not exactly - reasonably soon.

He was one of Milwaukee's hottest surgeons.  Bright, competent, confident.

He was at the top of his game.

I underwent a nine hour surgery to reduce the fracture and stabilize the spine. 

Even with a Cell Saver I received an additional five units of whole blood.

My spine was held together with some fancy plates and lag bolts.

A week later a thoracic surgeon cracked my chest, and the first surgeon sawed-off a rib and used it to perform a posterior fusion of the spine.

After a month in the hospital I was sent home with a brace to wear.

I spent most of the following year working part time and getting better. 

In the spring of 1991 the doctor removed the hardware.

I thanked the him for his skill, confidence and inspiration which sped my recovery.

I gave-up running and embraced riding my bicycle with renewed enthusiasm.

(I kept the hardware as a souvenir of my adventure and stopped setting-off airport metal detectors.)

This was the doc.

You've probably read about this in the news.

I eventually married the girlfriend that was with me on that January day and we've been living happily ever-after.

Not so for Mark Benson.

Formerly MD.

Booze and drugs. 

A slide into the abyss.

Finally a crash resulting in deaths.

I suspect his life isn't going to end so happily ever-after.

God help him. 

Tom

Spring is sprung, love is in the air and I have a second period spring turkey permit for Zone 34.

Check-in periodically as I'll be posting updates on my success (or lack thereof).

About the love part - tom turkey is out strutting his stuff for the ladies in hopes of getting lucky.

If I'm lucky I hope to bag one of these fellas when he's not thinking very clearly.

Here's my set-up.  A cammo blind artfully adorned with last winter's oak prunings.

A foam rubber decoy or two.  (Think of it as turkey erotica).

My trusty bow.

4/23/08 

Up at 4:30 AM and out to the blind.  The moon is casting shadows and the noise is positively raucous.  Woodcock whistling in their aerial mating displays.  The spring peepers singing in a vast chorus.  Owls hooting back and forth.  Turkeys gobbling as they fly down from their roosts.

I wait for the perfect ambush.

7 AM a gobbler announces his presence and threads his way through the trees before slipping away.

At 8 AM another gobbler materializes with a hen in tow.  As he approaches the decoys another gobbler beyond him announces his intentions.

I draw.  Aim.  Place the glowing sight pin on the gobbler's head and release. THWACK!  (That didn't sound quite right)  The arrow sails over the turkey.

Mr. Gobbler darts away yet is clucking and purring the entire time - intent upon the foam rubber ladies.

I nock another arrow and wait for a shot situation.

All of a sudden a thunderous gobble comes from directly behind me.  Yikes!  That will get your blood pumping.

Three gobblers are now weaving around - two out of bow range and one I can hear but cannot see.

We do some talking to one another.  Clucking, cutting and putting.

After about twenty minutes they depart.

Reflecting upon my missed shot I notice that my arrow sliced right through the zipper edging the window on the blind.  Lucky bird.

More later.

______________________________________________________ 

I'm back and I'm pooped.

Following the preceding post I returned to my blind and abject boredom.

Except for a brief and furious rumble (lots of gobbling and bickering from a distance) nothing was happening.

The secret to passing time in a bow blind when things are slow is to pack a couple of essential items:

1.  A good book to read:  Wild Stories - The Best of Men's Journal (a terrific gift idea for the favorite guy in your life)

2.  A Blackberry (so I could check on the name-calling over on the TTS)

Did some additional scouting on the walk back for possible locations later tomorrow and Friday.  I got a bit close to a nest box where someone was staking-out their territory and was repeatedly dive-bombed by this little bird. 

As I write this I'm tipping-back a refreshing Warsteiner and looking forward to hitting the sack early.

______________________________________________________

4/24/08

Overcast skies obscure the moon.  My half-mile walk was relatively quiet - unlike the cacophony of yesterday morning.

As daylight dawned things picked-up  a bit.

A Song Sparrow kept me entertained with its clear song.

A couple of whitetail deer cruised through at 6:20 AM.

Worked a gobbler for almost a half-hour after 7 AM - yet not close enough for a shot.

The wind picked-up and continued gather strength.  Things got really slow about then.  I'm wondering if I'd even have a decent chance with the bow in this strong a cross wind.

After a decoy blew away in a particularly strong series of gusts I figured it was time to come in.

Winds gusting to 30 MPH - I need a Plan B.

______________________________________________________

Strong winds make turkey hunting particularly difficult.  The birds cannot hear me and I cannot hear them.

Back to the field.  This time with a really loud box call and a notion to move my set-up depending upon conditions.

By mid-afternoon I moved my blind to a location better suited to the windy conditions and at the confluence of two wide fire-breaks.  An east-west trail that stretches a quarter mile from property line to property line and a north-south trail that winds its way thru the trees.  My theory is that any turkeys crossing the property from most any given compass direction (and within their keen eyesight of the decoys) will spot the two rubber hens situated in the intersection.  My blind is twenty paces to the southwest.

VERY quiet afternoon.  About 90 minutes before shooting time ended I got some responses to my calling.  Twice.  Nobody reveals themselves. 

If you spend enough time turkey hunting you learn very quickly that gobblers are periodically going to hang-up.

He's going to stop somewhere short of your range and not move-in close enough for a shot.

Who knows what's going thru his little head.  Maybe he's got a good start on his harem or maybe he's playing hard-to-get and waiting for your rubber hen to come to him.

When this happens I usually try my most seductive purrs and clucks in an attempt to lure him in.  Sometimes it works - sometimes it doesn't.

Failing that I stop calling and wait.  And wait.  This is absolutely the hardest thing to do,  Sometimes curiosity gets the better of the bird and the hunter scores.  Sometimes not.

Turkey hunters are a patient sort.

By the way it has begun to rain steadily.

______________________________________________________

4/25/08

Up at 4:15 AM to thunder and a steady rain.

I give a passing thought to crawling back into bed until the weather clears.  Naw.  Layer-up.  That's why the good people at DuPont invented Gore-Tex.

As bad as the conditions are I opt to leave the bow behind and take my trusty Mossberg 12 ga. turkey gun instead.

Along with a couple of these.

Except for the thunder it is quiet.  This low pressure system even shut-down the frog chorus.  Not a peep or a croak.

Funny how every time a rumble rolls out of the sky the gobblers all sound-off.

Pretty soon the sun comes-up and the rain pauses.  The chickadees and goldfinches are chirping. Cheeseburger and potato chip! 

I catch some stray gobbles but nothing doing.

About 8:30 a lone hen sashays past my decoys.

An hour later a gobble to the west.  I reply with a few yelps.  I get gobbling in return.

Hard to tell how far away in the fog.

I yelp - he gobbles. 

Closer this time.

Time passes.

The gobbles are getting much closer.

I switch to soft purrs and clucks - then shut-up.

Mr. Tom comes into view at about 200 yards - in full strut.

He stays out there for the longest time pirouetting and showing-off.

Against my better judgment I give him some come-hither purrs and clucks.

Closer he comes. 

Accompanying him is a hen. 

The real hen approaches my decoys. 

This is a really good turn of events.  He follows.

I raise my Mossberg. Draw a bead on the bird.  Give him one last cluck.  As he extends his head and gobbles...

POW!

10:20 AM   Bird down. 

I call my lovely bride with the news and she and girlfriend arrive for picture time.

He's a dandy.  Twenty-three pounds (a bit on the light side but its been a tough winter), 9 inch beard and 3/4 inch spurs.

Ready for the freezer and some terrific eating sometime later this year.

As I'm plucking my bird the thunder and monsoons have returned.

Patience pays-off. 

Tom

Tosa has been home to curling since 1920 - making the Wauwatosa Curling Club one of the oldest in Wisconsin.

Saturday marked the 49th Annual KrautSpiel. Here is the official award.

Starting the day with a Bloody Mary, hard-boiled eggs, followed by heading out on the ice with your friends is a good start.

It gets better.  Lunch is devoted to all manner of cabbage and pork products like spareribs, an array of sausages and homemade cabbage rolls.

Refreshing malt beverages from the Lakefront Brewery.  It doesn't get much better than that.

This guy is either the best of the wurst or the wurst of the worst. 

Terrific times with good friends on the ice - including all that cooked cabbage.

Somehow I think Tosa made its own unique contribution to global warming this weekend.

Good curling!

Tom

____________________________________________________________________________

Blogger's Note:  The name of this event is not supposed to be one word.  It seems the blogging tool recognizes the shortened derivative for sauerkraut as a really bad vulgarity.  Its publication is blocked.  If I attempt it - I get this:  *** Spiel.  Hmm.  I experimented with some even worse naughty words confirming there is a nanny in the software.  I figured-out that I could subvert the system by leaving out the space.  Don't tell the people at WauwatosaNOW.  Let's keep this our little secret.

It has been reported that a local man has begun building no-income housing within the city limits and without the prior knowledge or approval of city officials.

Exactly how this has escaped the scrutiny of the authorities is unclear.

A known builder of this type of housing, he has eluded the authorities while blatantly engaging in this practice for more than a dozen years.

Thumbing his nose at the permitting and approval process he has already constructed nine new units this winter, rehabbed two additional units and has lined-up both materials and labor to begin building at least three to four more units before the arrival of spring.

The authorities at City Hall are said to be shocked that this has been going on under their noses for so long.

When asked to comment mayoral candidate Jerry Stepaniak stated, "Development is Wauwatosa's future, but this is certainly not what I had in mind.  This guy's intentions might be good, but he's clearly obsessive.  This is an outrageous example of an individual run-amok.  I think he's got too much time on his hands."

Candidate Jill Didier staked-out a stronger stance calling for an investigation into the actions of the individual who reportedly lives in her aldermanic district.  "He's hardly got too much time on his hands.  This was carefully and thoughtfully planned.  He's a sneaky, snake in the grass who'll pay a heavy price for his actions," said Didier; "Justice will be served if I have to strangle him with a yard sign!"

Panicked residents have been flooding City Hall and the building inspector's department with calls to find out if this has occurred in their neighborhood.  

Conservative talk radio host Jeff Wagner praised Mayor Estness for her cool and measured handling of the crisis that has begun to paralyze city government.  "Wauwatosa's loss as Estness steps-down as mayor will be immeasurable" said Wagner.

The details are as follows:

My nest boxes. 

Subsidized housing for growing songbird families.

Made you look.

Springtime is practically around the corner and the basement workshop is usually home to a winter project.  This winter it is rebuilding and replacing nest boxes.  If you are looking for a project to do with the kids, a scout troop or by yourself this is really therapeutic and especially rewarding.

My wife and I have about five dozen (give or take) of these scattered about the tree farm.  Technically they are bluebird boxes but tree swallows and other cavity nesting birds and critters make their homes in them. 

Sometimes I'll find some little brown bats have set-up housekeeping.

Anyway, every couple of years the inventory of nest boxes has to be replenished as some eventually succumb to the elements. 

When building next boxes I've found a template is best.

The template allows for mass production of the component pieces - just like any manufactured housing.

Parts are interchangeable so repairs to older boxes are facilitated.  The two below are getting a new bottom and back.

The design is simple and the parts cheap.  

3/4" pine stock, cut to six standardized pieces, fastened together with 1 1/4" # 7 treated deck screws installed thru pilot holes.  A hinged roof makes taking pictures and cleaning a snap.  A hook and eye keep the lid closed. 

Stick a bit of dowel below a 35mm entrance cut with a hole saw.

This is not cabinet-making - the birds really don't care.  However, if you are anal about the fit and finish trim any errant edges so everything is tidy.

Two coats of cedar-tone exterior penetrating oil finish and you're set.

The cost of materials is about $6 per nest box.  This doesn't include labor, capitol investment in power tools, mounting post or beer consumed by the builder.  They're cheaper when you build them by the dozen and they make terrific gifts.

There you have it; affordable housing that is for the birds.

You can find the basic plans here Nest Box Plans.pdf .  My boxes are modified to include a slightly larger hinged roof and the hook and eye closure.  The floor is sized larger to fit on the bottom and not inside the walls.  The larger roof dissuades raccoons.  If the raccoons persist - shoot them.  (Caution - in the city that will certainly will get you arrested).

Mount your box on a post of your choice - you can use a green metal fence post found in any hardware store or a length of re-bar.

Clean the old nests from each box at least annually to prevent the spread of disease between broods.  Your dog will be absolutely ecstatic about rolling in the nesting material when it's tossed-out.  Girlfriend especially likes it if I evict a box full of white-footed deer mice.

A well-constructed nest box that is treated with sealant every 3 years or so will yield years of enjoyment.  The box above has a March 2001 date inside the lid.  The box in the second picture (above) with the deer in the background is eleven years old - and nearing the end of its useful life.

Enjoy!

Tom

A recent commentator to this blog quite reasonably suggested the following:

It will be interesting how TTS fits in the race since its a mix of people like me....don't know these people and those who are personal friends of a particular candidate.  I kind of think that such things should be declared so people know what context the cheap shot or rousing praise comes from.

I agree. 

A perfectly legitimate suggestion.

In the interest of full and fair disclosure this is as good a time as any to tell you where I stand. 

Allow me to begin with candidate Didier.  

I can tell you that she is not a personal friend.

She is one of my alder-persons so I know of her.  

In the short time she has been in the position of alder-person I can tell you that until recently she has always been prompt in responding to anything I had to say.

Preceding her kicking the Mayoral campaign into high gear last year I was somewhat ambivalent about her as she hadn't been in city government sufficiently long enough to form any strong opinions - good or bad.

She never sought me out for support. 

When the Didier Campaign engaged far right wing radio and the peripheral blogosphere to attack the Mayor last year I viewed that as a particularly unsavory development.

The vast majority of Tosans don't want to listen to extremist fanaticism along with its attendant personal attacks.

Didier never considered that the mayor might not run for reelection. 

She over-reached. 

It is for her exceedingly short tenure in city government and her premature, yet enthusiastic embrace of the far-right that I will not support Ms. Didier.

On the matter of candidate Stepaniak I can tell you that he also is not a personal friend. 

Until recently I only knew of the guy as a former Common Council President. 

What is noteworthy is he sought me out.  He told me he wanted an opportunity to tell me about himself and his vision for Tosa. 

We met.  We talked. 

He asked for my support. 

I told him no, that I would have to think about it. 

Apparently I thought about it sufficiently long enough that he sought me out again.  So, we talked some more and I thought about it for quite some time.

My conclusion:  Stepaniak is a bright guy with good ideas and a clear vision for Tosa.  He also has the most executive experience. 

I spent half my life in business - I get it.

In short, experience matters and that would make him the most qualified. 

My wife and I contributed $50 to his campaign.

In closing I would like to add that in the continuing spirit of full and fair disclosure and in the interest of performing a valuable public service-

I am saving you all $4.25 and a trip to the city clerk's office. 

You can peruse the candidate's Campaign Finance Reports here.

didier.pdf and stepaniak.pdf.

I'm sure you will find them revealing.

Bon Appetit!

Tom

The Wisconsin League of Conservation Voters held their annual Conservation Lobby Day in Madison on Wednesday.

As an avid hunter, fisherman and conservationist this stuff is important so I took the day-off to become a citizen lobbyist.

No tassel-toed loafers or martini-infused parties.  No pay or pay-off.  

I met-up with a bunch of folks that were from the 5th Senate District and both the 13th and neighboring Assembly Districts.

This included many Tosans I've come to know over the years.  One new friend was a recently retired conservation warden.  We compared notes on Dakota pheasant hunting. 

I ran into friends from other parts of the state that were there representing various hunting, fishing and woodland organizations.  

What we have in common is we hunt, fish and vote.  It is refreshing to see so many people who care so much about Wisconsin's resources take a day out of their lives to drive-home that point.. 

The crowd included a mix of suits, business casual, cammo, boots and jeans.

I was looking forward to meeting with Senator Jim Sullivan and Representative David Cullen and the opportunity to share my views. 

The League had previously scheduled time for our group to meet with them.  Very cool.

A similar foray a couple of years ago was disappointing. 

My attempt to hold a conversation with the previous State Senator could be described as...er, let's just say it was akin to trying to carry-on a conversation with a stump - but I digress.

This year's attendance was lighter as the previous night's blizzard cut into the travel of attendees from the further reaches of the state.

There was the usual welcome and preliminaries.

The Lieutenant Governor, Barbara Lawton, stopped by to visit.

She claimed she knows how to pee in the woods just like the rest of us.

Discussion and strategy followed.

I was chosen to speak to legislators about the Hunter, Trapper, Angler Bill of Rights.

Over the past number of years management of Wisconsin's natural resources has become increasingly politicized.  A handful of examples include nonsense such as an attempt to allow the snowmobile lobby to dictate the Wisconsin deer season framework. The committee chair happened to be tight with their lobbyist.  Or legislators raiding the Stamp Fund accounts; plugging holes in the state budget by stealing segregated funds voluntarily paid by hunters and anglers for turkey, pheasant and great lakes fish.

That stinks.

So, I took the opportunity to lobby for the restoration of the appointment authority for the DNR Secretary to the Natural Resources Board (NRB)  - reconciliation of Senate Bill 15 and Assembly Bill 504 if it passes.

I asked for support of Senate Bill 422, requiring that the state Senate vote on NRB nominees within six months of their nomination.  Stop playing games with the nominees and allow them a straight up and down vote.

With a weakening economy, budget forecasts aren't very promising, so there's a good chance some legislator is going to be drooling with anticipation over the prospects of swiping funds for a pet project outdoors folks know nothing about.  I lobbied for the support of Assembly Joint Resolution 34 which would prohibit transfer of funds from sportsman's and sportswoman's stamp accounts.

On this matter - hunters and anglers had best be vigilant.

We had a satisfying visit with Senator Sullivan.

He knows his stuff and appeared supportive of issues we discussed.  (It is possible we ran over into the time alloted to the Beer Distributors - but that's OK - on he way out we assured them of our support for beer.)

Representative Cullen was absent and while he has a good voting record on these issues we were disappointed in having to meet with one of his aides.

The wrap-up included a wild game feed of bear, venison, raccoon, salmon and pheasant.

With my stomach growling I had to take a pass and get back to Tosa on other business.

I'll be following-up with Sullivan, Cullen and others on these and related issues.

Thanks to the more than 70 outdoor, wildlife and conservation groups that supported this event - especially the 15 organizations that sponsored the wild game feed. 

I'll be going back next year.

You might consider doing so yourself.

Tom

PS -

Contact your legislators and ask them to support adoption of the Great Lakes Compact.

If you wait until you hear the great sucking sound of our water going to the arid southwest it will be too late.

For Wisconsin it's an economic issue.

Friday night a buddy calls me with the news (make that a notification) that we're going pheasant hunt'n on Sunday.

I have to met-up with the guys by noon.

Ok.

Girlfriend and I had been chilling-out at the tree farm since Thursday.  She - recovering from a brief illness and me - juggling the day job and farm stuff - somewheres at the opposite corner of the state.

No problem.

We'll pack a shotgun, the boots, the cold weather gear, a couple handfuls of shells a snack for the both of us, hit the road early and be in Jefferson County before lunchtime.

Then it hits me.

Right smack between the eyes.

Today is the anniversary of my mom's death.

It was on a cold and sunny Sunday not too many years ago that I stopped by St. Joe's  after a pheasant hunt to see how mom was doing.

She was doing terrific.

She was doing so well that she informed me she expected to be released the following day.

We talked about hunting. We talked about her coming home.  I reminded her to have pop give us a call when they got home.

 Early Monday the phone rang.

The caller ID said St. Joseph's Hospital.

I took the call thinking mom had an update. 

Nope.

It was the nursing station on her floor with not so good news.

Mom died peacefully between the time they had woke her to take her vitals and bringing breakfast.

Today we had a similar sunny and cold hunt. 

We killed some birds.

While walking thru the snow and watching girlfriend work the cover I had some terrific and lasting memories of mom.

Tom

Post Script -

Grace Gaertner was a substitute teacher for the Milwaukee Public Schools from the 1960s through the early 1980s.

Oddly enough that was her career.

She did not drive so she either walked or took the bus to wherever she was assigned on a daily basis.

She took pride in never having to shut or lock the door to any of the city classrooms to which she was assigned.

She was practical, tough, but loving.

100% Irish.

Fellow Community Voice - Family Guy (Peter Hart) has broached a topic rather near and dear to my heart. 

I would like to thank those Tosans that opened his eyes to see the light.

While the typical Christmas tree is grown and harvested for one single purpose - namely the celebration of Jesus' birth; I am inclined to believe that the second member of the Holy Trinity would actually have spoken highly-of and possibly blessed the practice of TSI - timber stand improvement.

Euphemistically known as clear cutting.

I'm not talking about clear cutting rain forests for the grazing of beef cattle to feed America's fast-food appetite.  I'm suggesting clear-cutting to mimic the impacts of nature (namely fire) that we have chosen to suppress, so that certain tree species have an opportunity to regenerate with human (in the absence of nature's) intervention.

In case any of you don't know this (or even care to know) my wife and I are tree farmers.

Yep, just like the farmer that grows corn, beans or hay.

We grow trees. 

Like most farmers we deal with blights, diseases, insects, critters, poor weather and other unlikely and unpredictable events. 

Unlike most farmers - the growing and harvest cycles for a tree farmer extend beyond one year to the next.  They last decades, lifetimes and beyond. 

Think: patient farmer.

We do not grow Christmas trees or nursery stock. 

All of our trees are destined for the mill - either as pulp or saw boards.

A couple of months ago my wife and I attended the National Tree Farm Convention - hosted in Madison, Wisconsin.  Almost 700 individuals from 38 states made a point of attending some or all of the event. It was the largest gathering yet.

Forests and forestry are a big deal in Wisconsin. 

To get your arms around how big consider the following:

It is estimated that the forest industry in Wisconsin contributes more than $30 billion annually to the state's economy and supports over 100,000 jobs in the forest products and processing industries with more than $3.5 billion in payroll.  Additionally, more than 125,000 jobs are indirectly supported in other sectors of the state's economy.

In 28 counties (out of 72 total) the forest industry is the largest employer.  In 14 additional counties the forest products industry is among the top three employers.

Forests are the backbone of more that 1900 companies. Capital investment in the forest industry exceeds $811 million annually - second in the nation - and one-fifth of all investment in Wisconsin manufacturing.

Wisconsin is the number one paper making state in the nation and has been for more than 50 years.  Wisconsin produces more than 5.3 million tons of paper and over 1.1 million tons of paperboard annually.

The combined value of paper, lumber and wood products shipped from Wisconsin in a single year is around $17 billion.

Forest-based recreation adds an additional $5.5 billion annually to the Wisconsin economy.

Most kids today don't have a clue about the role that trees play in their lives.

I think that stinks.

The planned State Forestry Education Center that is going to be built in Tosa on the County Grounds may begin to turn that around.

About that Christmas tree? 

Do yourself, the Wisconsin economy, and the world a favor and guiltlessly purchase a real tree - a genuine renewable resource.

Jesus loves you for doing so.

Hunting has been slow. 

On Friday my wife and I decided that the only deer I should shoot would be a doe for the food pantry or a trophy for the wall.

I have seen neither.  Only yearling bucks - mostly immediately before sundown.

While the temps were a bit more tolerable today the wind was howling with gusts up to 26 MPH 

I decided to hide from the wind as best as I could in a bow stand nestled in a swampy stretch of creek bed

.

There has been beaucoup sign of deer continuing to move along the natural cover and corridor following the creek.

This part of the trail looks like a regular deer and turkey expressway.

In case you haven't noticed we've had a full moon and clear and cold evening skies.

The trail camera confirmed that there are plenty of deer - moving after hours.

Who can blame them.  They've been chased, pushed, shot at and general persecuted for eight days.

That's it for now.

There's a late season antlerless gun hunt in December and the bow season goes thru the end of the year.

Smile for the trail cam...

Rain today.  Nothing moving - not even the chickadees or woodpeckers.  An altogether appropriate day to cut-up deer.

First things first.  Breakfast of fried bologna, eggs and toast.  Yum.

Our machine shed doubles as a butcher shop during the deer season.  This includes a game hoist, a cutting board for the workbench and a refrigerator for freezing and keeping refreshing adult beverages cold.

We do our own butchering so we can freeze everything in proper portions and be assured of safe handling and getting our own venison.

Me, Sees in the Dark and Lawyer.

The secret to excellent venison is proper handling.  That means everything from efficient field-dressing to clean butchering.  We trim every vestige of fat, tallow and silver skin from our meat.  No gamey venison for us.  The scraps go into a bag which I'll drop at the butcher shop in town for grinding into burger.  If you add 10% pork to the burger it isn't so dry.

The Wench and Mennonite are the designated skinners.

Braumeister is in charge of packaging.  The invention of the FoodSaver vacuum packaging has revolutionized the processing of fresh meats.  Excellent for freezing your garden vegetables too.

We processed four deer today and were finished and cleaned-up by 3:30 PM.  We broke for lunch after the third deer - enjoying a marvelous venison, barley and vegetable soup.

The boys have left for home and I'll follow shortly to return to Tosa and fetch my lovely bride.  We're coming right back to spend the balance of the season and the Thanksgiving holiday hunting and hanging out with friends.

Stay tuned.