Note to Self: Do Not Attempt Unless Your Chiropractor Makes House Calls.

Today J and I went to a local nature preserve called Dobbs Park. J and I went there when he was about nine, and he and Grandma and I went to the Native American Museum and Nature Center they have there. Things are just the same as they were.

This is J feeding the birds. Who knew they would like tortilla chips?

This allowed him to get a few really up-close-and-personal pictures of his own.

These guys remain on the other side of the pond with their noses (beaks?) in the air--unless food is being served. Then they deign to come over, usually too late because the others have already eaten it all, and proceed to tell us how unfair they think the whole thing is.

They're actually rather pissy about it. You can see one of them mooning us, he's so incensed.

They also have trails to walk. The woods are completely untouched, save for a few planks here and there to cross muddy places or small streams.

J found a walking stick. It also can be used as a machete, a bat, and an "air sword" (think air guitar). We called it Excalibur.

The park looks so small, and the trails are so compact, crossing and winding around each other, that it's hard to stay on the one you started. When we saw signs like this, we said, what the heck? Let's go that way.

Decisions like that ensure you complete the three miles of trails at least twice, because you're lost...THEN you think, "You know, maybe we should go into the Nature Center and see if there's a map of these trails."

Duh.