Investigative Reporting

Yesterday when I went to the store - the big one in Rancho Cordova, not the little one up the road in Rancho Murieta - I noticed that someone was parked in a handicap space with no placard in their window. There was a young lady driver, her car was running. Presumably she'd pulled in while her passenger ran into the store. I guess if she'd seen a cop, she would have promptly backed out and gone elsewhere.

When I came out of the store, there was another car parked in that space. It didn't have a handicap placard, either. I do have one. I appreciate it because I don't walk very well, especially if I'm carrying a bunch of packages. I don't use it, though, if I can find another space reasonably close to where I need to go.

Just when I started to get grumpy about people misusing the handicap spaces, along came the parking policeman. He took pictures of the front and back of the car, then wrote a ticket and stuck it on the windshield.

I decided to stay and see what happened. While I was waiting I tried to picture the driver. The car was modest, sort of a granny car. Probably wasn't a teenager, unless he/she was driving his parent's car. Several people who walked out of the store looked like possible lawbreakers in my mind. (This was Rancho Cordova, after all.) I thought about what I'd do if I found a ticket on my own windshield. I'd have a cow, of course. I get mad when someone leaves a flyer on my car.

I was there for half an hour doing my undercover work, disguised as a ditz playing games on her cell phone.

Finally an ancient little old lady with a hump on her back, a lady who could barely push her own cart, wobbled towards the car. She put her groceries in the trunk (you call that something else in England, don't you? the boot? the booty? No, I think that's Beyonce's butt.). Then she got in her car. She evidently saw the ticket on the window, but she didn't get back out of the car. She put a handicap placard in the window. Then she just sat there. And sat. And sat.

I finally left, thinking "there but for fortune, go I." I used to forget to put my placard in the window at least once a week at work. It didn't matter because we had no parking police and often someone would tell me, or I'd remember halfway through the day and go back out to remedy the situation. But I've often wondered what happens if a person forgets. I'm not too worried about the little old lady, if she shows up in court in person any reasonable judge would excuse her.

I'm disappointed that I wasn't able to take the picture for you that I'd anticipated: a big, burly, hairy guy ripping the ticket off his windshield and kicking his car. That's why I was playing games on my phone, so I could be discreet about using it as a camera and the big guy wouldn't come kick my car, too.

Things have otherwise been pretty dull in the little valley. It rained a bit, the wind blew a bit. It's sunny again today. The seagulls are still sitting on the lawn farmer's new crop. They don't eat it, but their big feet keep the grass squashed. This morning there are three buzzards sitting with the seagulls.

The hummingbirds are fighting over the feeder right in front of my window. I think they're Anna's, the male has a bright red head that flashes when he moves his feathers.

I haven't seen the small annoying hawks for quite a while. Saturday I was sitting in the yard, so I let the pigeons out for a while. Several came out and perched on top of their pen. I let the mutt chickens out, too, thinking they'd warn us all if a hawk was about. A flock of feral pigeons, about 400 strong, was out working in the old corn maze, pecking at ears of corn that had been plowed under. It was a peaceful, happy time. Then, all at once, the feral pigeons took off helter skelter. The mutt chickens didn't utter a squeak, they just flattened out and ran like roadrunners back to their pen. I closed their gate and they were relieved. Just then a huge hawk came swooping down over us all, ending up on the ground somewhere out in the field. I could hope it caught a gopher.

My stupid pigeons just sat on top of their pen, totally oblivious. I picked up a stick and tried to coax them back into their pen. I got all but one, a tiny fat one. It took off and flew. It went round and round over the yard, like an idiot. It might as well have been towing a banner, "Look! Fat, tasty pigeons here!" It's no wonder the little hawks have taken 5 or 6 of my pigeons this winter. Fatty finally made it back to the pen and was too pooped to argue when I snatched it and put it back through the door.

I don't think the red tail could catch a pigeon in flight, it moves like a B52. But I think I'll keep my birds in a while longer anyway.

I've been trying to watch Downton Abbey. I got through season 1 on Netflix, then Bob let his membership go because they raised their rates. He's such a penny pincher. I found season 2 on the PBS web site, but it's a drag trying to watch things there. It's very slow and the program hangs up quite often. When there's more than 15 seconds between the first part of a sentence and its conclusion, I forget what was being said.

Forgetting is something I do well. Which is why I could sympathize with the old woman at the store.