By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

I don’t especially like birds. Yeah, yeah, I probably shouldn’t admit that.

So I surprised even myself when I actually photographed a bird.

It’s not like I was seeking out this mourning dove.

But there she was, sitting calmly among the dried branches of a trumpet vine in my Mom’s backyard.

I would have bypassed this camouflaged creature had I not looked at this mess of seemingly dead sticks and wondered why my Mom would want this pile of twigs. But then I remembered that the trumpet vine is like the proverbial ugly duckling that eventually transforms into a beautiful swan.

There the mourning dove sat, motionless as a statue, which is exactly what I thought I was seeing. Earlier my Mom and I had been searching for a missing plastic owl to strategically place in her yard as a blackbird deterrent. So a fake mourning dove did not seem at all out of the realm of possibilities.

Then I saw the slightest flicker of the bird’s eye. This dove was real, very real, and she was nesting.

Not one to pass up an opportunity for a nature close-up, even if the subject is a bird, I grabbed my camera and started snapping pictures. I was fully expecting a flurry of feathers to come flying at me. It never happened. The mourning dove sat perfectly still throughout the photo shoot.

Now this is a bird I could actually, maybe, like.

You see, I have not-so-fond childhood memories of barn swallows dive-bombing me as I walked down the barn aisle with a wheelbarrow full of ground feed.

And then there was that rooster, that mean, mean rooster, chasing me down, pecking fiercely at the backs of my legs. Until one day, Dad walked to the shed and grabbed the ax.

So there, you have my explanation for keeping my distance from anything with feathers. From afar, I’m fine. Put me any closer, and guaranteed, I can fly faster than a bird.

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When I talked to my Mom recently and asked about the mourning dove, she told me the bird, nest and all, had simply vanished.

“A cat?” I asked.

“No,” replied my Mom. “I think it was the wind.”

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By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Talk about some creative marketing.

The St. Paul Saints independent minor league baseball team, “independent” being the key word here, gave away Count von “Re” Count bobblehead dolls at Saturday night’s game.

Fans actually waited in line overnight to get a Norm Franken/Al Coleman doll dressed in suit, bow tie and black cape to resemble Sesame Street’s Count von Count. That Count teaches kids to count.

My oldest daughter waited with a friend for 1 ½ hours to get one of the 2,500 split personality candidate replicas.

Already, these novelty bobbleheads have hit the online auction eBay. I checked Tuesday morning and nearly 25 were offered with bids ranging from a low of $9.99 to $47.28.

Even if you’re tired of the undetermined Senate situation, you really do have to chuckle at the Saints’ spin on the race. “The head will spin reminding fans of the dizzying experience that has been this state’s U.S. Senate race,” read promotional information from the Saints’ website.

Simply by turning the two-faced head, fans can choose their personal preferred winner. Al Franken’s face is on one half of the doll, Norm Coleman’s on the other.

Independent Senate candidate Dean Barkley threw out the first pitch at Saturday’s game and also offered his own humorous televised commentary.

Apparently the Count von “Re” Count promotion worked. The Saints played to a sold-out crowd and won the game. Plus, they got plenty of publicity, the intended result.

Now I’m wondering, will someone market Count von “Re” Count Halloween costumes this October?

“Vintage Garden Art and Plant Sale,” the classified ad read.

This has to be good, I thought. Vintage plus garden plus art equals creatively recycled outdoor artwork.

I was not disappointed.

Surprised, though.

I wasn’t expecting to see glassware repurposed into “gazing glass,” as Faribault artist Mary Ellen Velzke calls the pieces she creates. She glues together old glasses, bowls, plates, bottles and other novelty glassware for the one-of-a-kind garden artwork. Stuck on a metal pipe, the glass menagerie can be used as a yard or garden accent piece.

Mary Ellen probably wouldn’t call herself an artist. She does this just for fun, she said, and has made more than 100 of these gazing glass pieces.

But her friend Gini Sartor says Mary Ellen has a talent for color and putting together the glassware.

She’s right. I admired gazing glass pieces in royal blue, olive green, aquamarine, cranberry and amber. This gardener possesses just the right eye for mixing and matching the glassware she finds at garage sales or gets from friends.

I also admired Mary Ellen’s plate mirrors. My name, not hers. But that’s exactly what they are—mirrors, purchased at a craft store and placed in the centers of vintage plates.

Gini added her own artistic flair to the yard sale with her fence sections in cheery hues like hot pink and cornflower blue.

These two even displayed rhubarb artistically—tied in a bundle and placed inside a tissue-lined vintage bucket.

And then there was the old white door with the peeling paint and missing trio of glass panes. Mary Ellen kept her son from tossing it away. Even though I knew the door was meant as a piece of art, I could almost picture it (with a little work) as a “new” front door on my house.

I didn’t purchase anything at the garden art sale, but I left inspired by the recycling creativity of these two women.

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

“Good afternoon. Iowa Department of Agriculture and Land Stewardship, how may I direct your call?”

“Um, yes, I need to talk to someone about an erosion issue.”

“One minute please.”

“Hello. Iowa Division of Soil Conservation, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m from southern Minnesota, and we’re having a little problem that I think has something to do with you guys down there in Iowa. We’ve got dirt piling up everywhere here.”

“Just a minute. I need to connect you with someone in our Field Services Bureau.”

“Hello. Iowa Field Services.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m from southern Minnesota, about 30 miles south of the Twin Cities, and um, we’re having a major dust storm. The wind’s from the south, blowing soil straight up 35 from Iowa. Conditions are pretty bad. Visibility is near zero. I’m looking out my office window right now and I can barely see the hardware store across the street, it’s that bad.”

“So you think Iowa is the source of this problem?”

“Uh, yeah, this doesn’t look like any Minnesota dirt I’ve ever seen, and the wind, like I said, is from the south gusting up to 40 miles per hour. We’ve got big problems. There are actually dirt drifts piling up on roads and in driveways. We have a foot of dirt inside our lobby. It’s a heckuva deal.”

“This sounds like a serious situation. I could try and send someone up tomorrow morning for a soil sample. We can check that against our computer data base to see if it’s a match for Iowa dirt. But, come to think of it, we’re spread pretty thin right now. I’ve got most of my team working the northern half of Iowa dealing with a soil erosion emergency. OK if I get back to you in a few days?”

“You bet.”

I’ve always considered llamas cute, even if they sometimes spit.

None spit at me on Saturday when I toured llama-filled barns at the Rice County Fairgrounds. Occasionally, though, when I was moving in a bit close with my camera, I wondered.

But, all-in-all, these registered llamas seemed a friendly bunch. There were 175 of them in Faribault for the Llamas of Minnesota event, “Llamapalooza.” Llama owners from Minnesota, Iowa and Wisconsin gather for this annual show and competition.

Now this may sound strange to you, but if llamas were people, I’m quite certain they would work as news reporters or writers. Yeah, I know, sometimes I think unusual thoughts.

I have my reasons to think this of llamas. As I strolled through the barns, I watched these curious animals swivel their heads in unison to follow the action. Their big eyes took in everything.

So, because I too am observant, here’s what I noticed:

Llamas, even though cute and clean, do smell, just like any animals in any barn.

Llamas make a sound sort of like a whimpering baby.

Llamas look pretty relaxed when they’re lying down, their necks stretched flat on the ground.

Llamas get a summer haircut, with their fur shaved in the centers of their bodies, to keep cool.

Llamas lose their fur. I saw tufts here and there in the barn aisles.

More women than men were tending the llamas, at least when I walked through the barns. Could that explain the area rugs carpeting the llama pens? Likely not. But the patterned rugs added a nice, decorative touch to the cattle barns.