Well, this title isn’t entirely accurate. Many of the winter birds are still hanging out, as is the cold weather. Still, I thought I’d better post on some of our winter visitors before the air conditioners snap on and the Baltimore Orioles start sipping mimosas and fanning themselves. The first visit I want to mention was a local one: the Swedish Cemetery in Worcester. Here, we had the great pleasure of snapping some shots of Gold Crowned Kinglets. These cuties are awfully fast, so Yang actually managed to end up with a few shots of a tree where the bird had been a millisecond before. Nevertheless, he did get some nice photos, as you see. Some were even “action” shots like the one below!
In January, we also made it to Gooseberry Island, one of our favorite spots. Though, for the first time, we missed out on the Long-tailed ducks there, we did sight lots of other feathered pals. We caught some Eiders on film. There was a male, a female, and an immature male. Note the immature male at the the top, right, acting like a typical teenager – not wanting to be seen with his parents.
We also some adorable shore birds. The Dunlins were real cuties.
And the Sanderlings were no slouches, either!
We had to go to Halibut Point to see the Long-Tails and Harlequin Ducks.
We also made to the Chestnut Hill Reservoir, where we saw many a different waterfowl. The Coots were in abundance – and they loved to hang out with the Swans.
We also got some closeups of these plump guys. Their heads are black, their bodies are grey, they have a white streak over their beaks, and they have huge, lobed, yellow feet. We couldn’t get a good shot of their feet because they were in the water. Still, we did get some nice close ups of these guys. They are still at the the Reservoir now, along with tons of Ringed-Neck Ducks. The Ruddy Ducks have also re-appeared – but that’s a set of pictures for another blog. For now, enjoy these rotund cuties. By the way, they also love Horn Pond in Woburn – the forthcoming subject of another blog.
Their bodies may be plump and take-off may be skittery, but the coot can fly!
Last report is on our visit to Meig’s Point in Connecticut in February. A week or so before, we’d gone there on an unseasonably warm Saturday – and, unfortunately, everyone else had the same idea. There were tons of people but hardly a bird to be seen. That was sad for Yang, because this was the place we always saw one of his favorites, the Horned Larks. So, we went back on a colder weekday a week or two later and guess what we saw?
We got to see a whole flock! We were so careful to approach them quietly, because these guys are very shy. The the flock will fly off in a winged shape, much like the Snow Buntings that we saw on Deer Island. It’s so neat to see that sweep of black feathers giving them a “horned” appearance, with that splash of chartreuse on their faces. As you can see, it’s hard to pick them out with the way their brown feathers blend them in with the winter seared grass. If you click on the photo, you’ll get a better look.
We didn’t just see the larks, though. I wasn’t able to get a picture, but I did see a female Ruby-Crowned Kinglet close up. We were sighted lots of Loons (the avian not the human kind) swimming along the shore, like this chap. At one point, we even saw three seals sunning themselves out in the bay. Sorry, they were too far to photograph. Here’s one of the many Golden Eyes we saw, along with tons of Surf and Black Scoters. We also had the pleasure of watching a conference between a Great Blue Heron and a Great Egret that, fortunately, ended without bloodshed.
So, winter may be past, or passing, but we did get some nifty bird sightings in!
One of the FB birding groups to which I belong mentioned the presence of snow Buntings on Deer Island. These cute guys were birds that I had never seen close up, but I’d always wanted to. So, Yang and I took a jaunt out one weekday early afternoon and had quite a treat on our long walk around the island. It’s about a 2 1/2 mile circular trail around the island on a paved path, so the going is easy. It was a gorgeous day – and the views matched the weather.
There are some wonderful views of Boston Harbor. You can also see that I have this really neat white hat on, given me for Christmas by my good friend Kathy Pender Phaneuf. This hat has kept my noggin warm on many a seaside trek to scope out the water fowl. Thank you, Kathy – and dig these views!
On the far side of the island:
There was, indeed, quite a bit to view in the fine-feathered-friend department. I got to see my Snow Buntings! You should click on the images to get a really good look at these guys.
I first heard them somewhere on the beach, but couldn’t see them. I walked along the wall next to the trail, looking at the ground to watch my step, when all of a sudden, Yang called, “Stop! Look in front of you!” There they were – and what fun they were to watch. If you creep up very slowly and quietly, you can get a good look at them, but you have to be careful. These birds are extremely timid and spook easily. Then the flock is in the air, flying in precision formation, but often circling back nearly to where they started. When they fly, you can see white and black chevrons on their wings that are beautiful!
Here are a few closeups. I love that gorgeous white on their tummies.
There were even more birds IN the water than out of it! We had been to the Cape looking for Eider Ducks recently, but hadn’t seen many. Now we know where to find them – along with Scoters of all kinds, Scaups, Buffleheads – you name it!
Here are some close ups of the Scaups, and it looks like a female Bufflehead.
There were lots of Eider Ducks. We got a special kick out of this lady who was have a fine time for herself out of the water on her own personal rock – with a special guest shot by a Scaup.
Then, she has to get down with her bad self in this next picture.
We did see and hear some Song Sparrows. I wonder if in the spring some interesting song birds will return to sing in the brush or atop this Celtic Cross?
Since we’re still in the middle of the twelve days of Christmas, how about a blog where you can see the cheery holiday decorations at one of my favorite spots, Hammond Castle? I hadn’t been there for years, but I remembered how they did up the castle right for Christmas one of the times I was there many moons back. So, Yang and I decided to celebrate the season by visiting once again. We were not disappointed.
John Hammond built this castle early in the 1900s, funding it by the sale of his patents for all kinds of applications to navigation, radar, radio, etc. In fact, I believe he holds the record for the largest number of patents awarded in this country. He did come from a prominent and wealthy family, but they disowned him for marrying an older divorced woman – with whom he shared a long and happy marriage – so there Mom and Pop Hammond!
The main shots we have here are of the Great Hall and the Courtyard. Yang took some really neat shots of the Great Hall. Hammond would have large family and friend gatherings here in his day, including lots of famous film political, and business figures. I remember back in the 1980s and later when I came here, I attended concerts on the pipe organ and by smaller consorts. I also got to watch silent films in the Great Hall. It was the perfect setting to enjoy Lon Chaney’s The Phantom of the Opera. In this photo, you can get an idea of the length of the hall. You can also see the beautiful rose window.
You can also observe some of the alcoves off the main hall in these photos. I wish we’d had achance to take pictures in the dining room and the library off the Great Hall, facing the ocean, but the light was not great for photographing — too much sun coming in. Natasha would have liked it, though! Some of the decor were skillful reproductions of classical, medieval, and renaissance art; however, much was also pieces that had been rescued from ruins or antique dealers.
How about this huge hearth? Would it keep the entire hall warm? Well, maybe you ought to remove the Christmas decorations first!
The courtyard was a real treat! Recreations or imports of medieval and renaissance shop fronts were integrated into the walls, leading into various rooms. The courtyard was roofed with glass skylighting, allowing for the growing of all kinds of plants that surrounded a long, eight-foot deep pool. Here is a view from the balcony to one end of the courtyard from which Mr. Hammond enjoyed diving off into the pool for a swim – but I think he changed into his trunks first. How would you like to jump in from here?
We were lucky enough to meet two of the guides there who took our picture. We had a great chat with them about the castle and ruins, castles, mansions, and other haunted spots in new England. If we go back for a guided tour, I know that they would do a great job. they helped make our day!
Anyway, here are some more shots of the courtyard.
Looking at these photos, you can see how Hammond integrated reliefs, tombstones, storefronts, etc, into the construction of the hall. It’s eclectic, but it works!
The Christmastide greenery adds seasonal beauty and cheer to the castle.
We don’t have photos of the bedrooms or the kitchen or Hammond’s workrooms. Maybe that’s for another day – or for you to find on your own trip to the castle.
Finally, the outside is also a pleasure to enjoy. For one thing, there’s a draw bridge. An interesting story connects here. Apparently, Hammond also built a covered bridge for the cats to leave the castle near here as well – but they didn’t deign to use it. I think they were busy chilling in the boxes in which some of the antiquities arrived.
Of course, we can’t forget to include picture of the person to whom we can credit the majority of these photographs.
I love these Gothic arches framing the view of the Atlantic on this sunny winter’s day.
For your final delectation, below is a video that reveals the glory of the Great Hall in panorama. If you want to enjoy Hammond castle for yourself, here’s a link to their web site. Their “Deck the Halls” tours are open until December 30th.
Lady on a Train is more comedy than mystery; however, it possesses some nice dark touches that give its holiday setting a noir flavor. The opening title cars starts us off with the blacks and greys, stark lines, and and dusky darkness of falling night so characteristic of noir. The essential plot gives us Nicki Collins (Deanna Durbin), a sassy San Francisco heiress, witnessing a murder from her compartment window as her train pauses before chugging into New York’s Grand Central Station shortly before Christmas. The image through her window is perfect noir. An old man arguing with a overcoated and fedored form lowering over him. When the old man angrily turns his back, the menacing figure spots a crow bar on the table, pulls down the window shade without facing the outside, and then bludgeons his victim, visible only through silhouette on the drawn shade. All just before the train pulls out and rushes toward the station.
Of course, no one really believes Nicki when she tries to sound the alarm, not fussy factotum Edward Everett Horton sent to meet her at the station and definitely not the crusty desk sergeant (William Frawley at his crustiest best) – especially when the latter sees that Nicki is holding a sensational novel by her favorite mystery writer.
So, what is our undaunted heroine’s next step? Why, track down that mystery author, Wayne Morgan, to help her solve the crime. Played by David Bruce, the author does not appreciate her throwing this strange tale in his lap and expecting him to solve the murder – especially since she hounds him by interrupting his meeting with his fiancee and then tracking the writer and fiancee to a movie theatre – where Nicki sees in the newsreel that the famous wealthy man recently found dead from “falling while decorating his tree” is the same guy she saw murdered! Our poor author ends up really up against it while trying to fend off Nicki’s insistence he help her while he is under the gimlet eyes of a formidable fiancee ( the elegant but indomitable Patricia Morison) and a secretary (Jacqueline DeWitt), whose dry cracks and skepticism over the writer’s capabilities would do Eve Arden proud.
Even with Nicki’s feisty and cheery determination to get to the bottom of things, Lady on a Train has some deliciously noir moments: Nicki’s incursion on the murdered man’s mansion through sharp contrast of black night shadows with stark white snow; the mansion itself’s cobweb of shadows and hazy grey lighting, twists and turns of its interconnecting rooms, and the startling contrast of double doors opening from a foyer’s gloom into a brightly lit room filled with relatives listening to the dead man’s will – themselves an disconcerting mixture of charm and menace. A noir staple of mistaken identity comes into play when Nicki is taken for the old man’s gold-digger girlfriend, the singer in a downtown night club that itself will contain a two-way mirror for spying, dark and twisted corridors leading to shadowy basement rooms of hidden threats. Of course, there’s no forgetting the estate’s caretaker, who also seems to run the nightclub and have master-minded a plot to con and murder the old man – a smoothly sinister sort who slides snakelike through back ways and hidden doors, bearing a white cat – I guess I mixed a metaphor there with the cat and snake thing.
One particular sequence squarely fits the noir motif when Durbin inadvertently lets slip as she rides a car up an elevator in an urban garage a clue she may be wise to the killer – who likely is her companion, the murdered man’s nephew Dan Duryea (a noir stalwart if there ever was one). What follows is a pursuit through chiaroscuro shadows and interconnected rooms, people framed or trapped in doorways, people being pursued or unknowingly spied upon, even through the dunes of sand waiting to be used against the snow outside. Another scene finds the other nephew, played by Ralph Bellamy, addressing her with a creepy smile and revealing that that old stiff Aunt Sarah used to visit him at night and . . . we never find out what?! Brrrrr!!!!!
The mystery author does arrive on the scene to save our heroine; however, his doing so brings chuckles as well as anxiety over the result.
So, how is this playful take on noir a Christmas movie? Well, we did see that Nicki arrives near Christmas Eve, and there are trees all over the place in this one – including the one that allegedly did in our murder, correction, our first murder victim. Lots of snow as well. Maybe the best connection is the lovely version of “Silent Night” that Durbin sings to her Dad over the phone. Check it out here. Anyway, it’s a nifty noir to drive away the holiday blues. If you want to see Durbin do full on Christmas Noir (more noir than Christmas, though), check out her and Gene Kelly playing against type in Christmas Holiday.
Screen shots by author from the film Lady on a Train, Universal films, copyright 1944.
Even as November eased into December, Yang and I have still enjoyed the creatures and plantation around the Yang Manse. Would you believe that we still had morning glories toward the middle of November? Gallantly battling colder, shorter, darker days, these Heavenly Blues waited until the last gasps of autumn to bloom. Their beauty shown through the dying colors of the late season. They even provided a lovely contrast to the last of autumn’s orange and rust foliage.
Though we had an extremely poor crop of pumpkins and gourds (three fertilized, two surviving long enough to be picked), we did still manage to grow some of the plants to maturity. Here, is one gourd that started out lovely, but succumbed to cold, too much dampness, and the onslaught of slugs. You can see how pretty it was before Mother nature went wild on it.
In a happier vein, though, how about a look at the survivors? This gourd that did make it was a surprise fertilization, which we found peeping under some leaves. Here it is shortly after discovery. We try to put a rock or plate under the growing gourds and pumpkins to keep the damp ground from rotting them.
And here is the same gourd all grown up. Sadly, because it was fertilized, late it never grew very much and then spoiled after only about six weeks. It was pretty while it lasted!
We also managed to get one pumpkin! It was fertilized during a short break in the rain for a week or so of sunshine and hot weather. Here’s our pumpkin a beautiful dark green as it grows slowly but surely, out facing damp and ravenous slugs!
It may not be the biggest pumpkin we’ve ever grown, but like Reba Mcentire, it can sing, “I’m a survivor” – if pumpkins can sing. Now the pumpkin resides in state in the picture window on the sun porch, where we can enjoy viewing it as we watch the birds chowing down at our feeders.
And speaking of birds chowing down on our feeders, we’ve got plenty of the little feathered guys to watch! We have the usual suspects: Mourning Doves, Blue Jays, Cardinals, Chickadees, Red Bellied Woodpeckers, Titmice, Downy Woodpeckers, and Nuthatches, for example.
But there are also returning old friends, as well. The harbingers of winter, the Slate Colored Juncos, are back. At first, they did their typical feeding off the ground, but now they are returning to old habits of taking lunch at the feeding bar. It just takes them a little while to remember that they can do that. I love to see them flying away, making the sound of castanets and flashing the white stripes on the fan of their tails.
Who else should make a return engagement after a short absence, but the Goldfinches! As summer ended, these guys disappeared from my feeders for several weeks. Then, suddenly, they all returned in November, wearing their olive winter coats. They also like to chow down with the other birds, so I have some neat shots of them with their pals, though woe betide the bird who tries to chase one of these aggressive little olive-garbed guys away! I love this picture with two Goldfinches and a Titmouse (on the right)doing acrobatics.
Here’s another one of the Goldfinch with a Nuthatch. Isn’t the Nuthatch in picture #1 adorable, just peeking around the corner of the feeder? Don’t you love the gorgeous blue/grey of the Nuthatch’s cloak, more visible in picture #2?
As you can see here, the Goldfinches don’t seem to have trouble getting along with either the Hairy (photo #1) or the Downy Woodpeckers (Photo #2).
In fact, this summer and fall, I don’t think I’ve seen so many Hairy Woodpeckers on my feeders. They certainly do seem to look like Downies on steroids. Here are some nice shots I got of the female Hairy. You can tell the difference because the only the male has a red spot on the back of his head – like in the case of the Downies.
So, I’ll just end with a shot of a Titmouse and a Goldfinch snacking away.
Until the Titmouse turns to me with a definite, “Who you lookin’ at, human!” expression.
All the leaves brown and the sky is grey. The Mamas and Papas song seems to sum up perfectly the end of November and beginning of December. So, I thought you might enjoy a look back at some of autumn’s leafy glory to tide you over until the soft blues and pristine whites of winter take over.
One new place Yang and I visited was the Albany Rail Trail in New York. The trail starts on an uphill slope, but once you get to the top, it levels off and is smooth sailing till the end. We ended up doing 18 miles of beautiful fall scenery along a river and through the woods.
Then, returning, after a flat ride, we sailed downhill at a feisty clip – but not before I stopped a few times to get some gorgeous shots of the brilliant fall colors, especially gorgeous along the sides of the valleys that sloped into the river, with that goldening light of the setting sun.
Here’s your liquid moment of Zen, in video format:
Yang and I also made our autumn pilgrimage to Colt State Park – after lunch at the Beehive in Bristol, RI – Yum, their pumpkin spice latte! The day was brisk and sunny. We had the pleasure of all kinds of fauna. Walking up a road that cut through the woods and emerged into the open with two large, stone-fenced fields on either side, we caught sight of these guys on our right. Since we were on foot and not in a car, we had no fear of another fatal collision. The deer were chill, too.
A little further down the road, what should swoop past us to disappear on the other side of the stone wall but a Red Tail Hawk! Clearly, her eagle, err hawk, eyes had spotted something edible scurrying through the leaves on the far side of that wall. Unfortunately for her, but fortunate for the mouse, vole, rabbit, or whatever, our hawk hunter emerged and tromped down on the wall with nothing to eat in her claws. Apparently she was a tad embarrassed because her look here clearly says: “What are YOU lookin’ at?”
Finally, we also made it out of the woods and onto the shore to make our first sighting of Brant Geese. They kind of look like stocky Canada Geese, but they are quite different. They also may have a black head, but that’s marked by a white band around their necks, plus, they lack the brown feathers of the Canada Geese. These guys always swim in tight formation and have the most adorable vocalization – not the rowdy honks of their North of the border brethren.
Below is a video where you can hear them almost quacking, rather than honking, but you have to listen carefully!
It wouldn’t be Halloween on my street without our yearly decorations for the holiday. Some of you friends are far away and can’t enjoy the view. So, If you’d like to pay a call on – the Yang fam-i-ly, make a virtual stop right here. Turn right up our driveway! See the number and your official greeter?
Just keep driving right past the lamp post, where another welcoming spook will let you know that you’re in the right place. Aren’t those white mums lovely? They go perfectly with the ghost’s robes, don’t they?
Pull into your parking space and enjoy a greeting from these lovely ladies. They just love the camera! I guess the redhead is a little shy.
Don’t forget to wave to the dancing ghosts. They adore the fall foliage colors. Maybe they’ll let you join in their little circle – for ETERNITY!
Of course, there are lots of other friends to see at the Yang House of Haunts.
And we mustn’t forget that sweet little front-yard cemetery, full of delightful souls to meet, eh?
I wonder what witty little jest these two are sharing?
Then, as you leave after night falls, things get a bit shadier, as it were.
BOO!
Phasing in from another dimension, no doubt. The Old Ones send their regards.
Here’s another ghostie making some interdimensional night moves. That old devil moon glows ominously in the background.
Ready to join in the dance, yet?
Some other darkling friends.
Y’all come back now.
Remember, Natasha says that monsters need love, too.
Every season, Yang and I try take a hike at what we call “The Secret Place.” It’s really not so very secret, since we usually run into a few hikers or kayakers there. Still, it feels secret to us. Anyway, we made our fall visit a couple of weeks back, hoping to see some beautiful foliage and do a little birding. We’ve seen quite a few warblers, aquatic fowl, and even eagles over the years here. You can see Yang is well prepared with his fancy-schmanzy camera.
After our breakfast of bagels and good pumpkin spice coffee (invented by George Crabtree in the early 20th century), we drove over to our destination. The colors looked promising, as you can see from the tunnel of trees extending before us.
Though the Secret Place may not have been at it’s peak, we found all kinds of beautiful colors.
Reds
Oranges
A beautiful mixture
I especially love how the colors hug the shore and complement the pale blue waters of the reservoir and sky.
Aren’t these berries cool, as well. Perfect autumn decor?!
However, with the recent rains, the reservoir had flooded over part the abandoned asphalt road that is the trail. So we couldn’t take the direct route to the dam at the end of the trail. Gorgeous colors, though, right?
Yang and I were not daunted. We knew of a dirt trail in the woods that would circle around the flooded road and, with luck, bring us to an unflooded portion of the road by the dam. En route, we came across this wonderfully haunted looking dead tree.
The trail looped through the woods and lo and behold! Dry asphalt and the bridge where we would usually chill to watch turtles in the summer and water fowl or raptors most of the year!
Unfortunately, we didn’t see any warblers (out of season), raptors, Whimbrels, Yellow Legs, fancy ducks, or even Cormorants. We did see a couple of Mallards and a gull or two. We even heard a Kingfisher, but couldn’t catch sight of that proud, crested avian dive-bomber. I did get a nice shot of Yang amidst all the autumn color, though.
So, I hope that you can enjoy your own “secret places” in their fall glory. If you can’t get out, maybe you can share in mine. I’ll leave you with this scarlet beauty below.
October 30, 1938: across the nation, Americans were sent into a frenzy of terror when they
mistook Orson Welles’ Mercury Theatre broadcast of The War of the Worlds for the real thing. Why did so many people run terrified, believing a radio program of a Martian invasion was actually happening? One wag answered, “Because all the intelligent people were listening to Charlie McCarthy” (ventriloquist Edgar Bergen’s dummy) on another station. Historians and social psychologists see some far less funny causes at play: American’s very real fears of invasion after the devouring of Europe and Asia by fascist powers as well as anxiety over economic and social tensions. The radio play embodied and thus brought to the surface the very fears so many Americans were trying to suppress: our nation’s weakness instability in the face of invasion by alien German and Japanese. The 1975 television film TheNight That Panicked America effectively conveys this insight by interweaving storylines of the radio show’s production and broadcast with the reactions of Americans across the country.
Opening with a view of the earth from outer space, calmly tracking in to it, director Joseph Sargent evokes H.G. Wells’s opening to his novel War of the Worlds. The film further establishes the links between a world on the verge of world war and a world about to suffer Martian invasion with a narrator intoning the state of earth’s conflicts in language similar to Wells’s novel. The background of broadcasts of war news and Nazi rallies establishes radio’s power to show the impossibility of denying the fearsome inevitability of world war.
Next comes a switch to the pre-production frenzy of putting on a radio program, following producer/director Paul Stewart into the broadcasting station and up the elevator to the studio with a network standards and practices rep hammering at him to keep things uncontroversial, then into the studio where he’s pulling together script changes and pressing the sound effects woman to create something ominous. It’s an exciting vision of how live radio performances came together: actors, scripts, sound effects, orchestra, directing battling against time, censors, and technical limitations. If you think about it, though, all this rush and pressure to make things perfect right up to the last minute also mirrors the sense of tension and uncertainty in the country itself. A nice hint at the unspoken realization of the tinderbox of American fears is the S & P guy (Tom Bosley) insisting that they can’t have Roosevelt as part of the story; they have to go down all the way down to the Secretary of the Interior. It’s never uttered, but, of course, having “Roosevelt” in their play about a devastating invasion lends it too much authenticity. And isn’t it much less scary if you skip past vice presidents, speakers of the house, secretaries of state all the way down to Secretary of the Interior. (Welles gets past this by agreeing to substitute Secretary of the Interior for the President, but he sounds like Roosevelt). Art liberates attempts to suppresses reality.
The stories interwoven with the broadcast are sometimes humorous, yet they also bring home that this radio play brought to the surface fears and uncertainties, not just about war but about belief in American exceptionalism. John Ritter and Michael Constantine are son and father who are farmers at Grovers Mills, the site of the invasion according to the play. Joining up with others to defend their country from invaders, the son sees his father and other farmers shoot up — a water tower. This does not amuse the owner. However, this son, who has been arguing he wants to go to Canada to join up and fight against Hitler before the war came to America, is the one who figures out this is only a radio program and tries to stop the others from acting hysterically. The fellow who admits that half the world is in flames is clear-eyed enough to recognize a real danger, while those who try to live in denial find their fears breaking free of suppression to control them.
Other examples are especially interesting. Two servants had been listening to the radio before their wealthy employer’s party. So, they know that it’s only a play — which their general perspicuity would have told them anyway. However, the snobby employer and his equally snobby friends, frivolous, self-important, and even a little impressed with Hitler, buy into the program lock, stock, and Martian cylinder. Their self-satisfied ignorance practically hits you over the head as the employer keeps refusing to listen when the butler tries to tell him it’s only a play. Equally snobbish and obtuse, one of the guests decides the whole thing must be real because the professor reporting is touted as being from Yale — a fictional professor. Eventually, the crowd of airhead snobs rushes off into the night, stealing their hosts valuables, while the servants chill, finishing off the horsd’oervres and champagne.
Not all the stories are amusing, however. Will Geer is a Protestant minister who won’t let his daughter marry a Papist infidel, fearing a religious alien invasion. His bigoted form of faith isno comfort when he believes aliens will destroy him and he loses his sanity for a time. Perhaps the most poignant tale involves a middle-class family where the father (Vic Morrow) is leaving the wife (Eileen Brennan) and children to “go look for work,” but the suggestion is that he can’t handle supporting his family emotionally as well as financially any longer. The American dream of family stability and work’s inherent dignity and security has fallen apart. The fear of the family dying in the invasion pulls husband and wife together in an attempt to take their children to safety, until what they perceive as the approaching alien ship with its horrific heat rays draws them into the decision that mercy-killing the children is their only option.
Anyway, it’s an exciting film to watch that gives you something to think about. I loved seeing all the clever improvisation and creativity of putting on a live broadcast. Perhaps you have heard how the sound person created the menacing unscrewing of the Martian cylinders by having her assistant unscrew a pickle jar in a toilet in the men’s room to get just the right reverb? Paul Shenar was dead on in his reading of Orson Welles’s sign off for the play, as the Mercury Theatre’s trick and treat. I especially liked that the writers (including Nicholas Mayer and Howard Koch, a writer on the original script) left me considering how suppressing rather than facing what unsettles us in this world actually leaves us prone to that that which we try to suppress. If this can happen unintentionally by creative writers, actors, and technicians, what can deliberate manipulation through something like AI do, if we haven’t faced and come truly to understand the contentions of our world?
In some ways, the 1970s were a golden age for horror on network TV. Series such as Ghost Story, Night Gallery, The Sixth Sense, and The Night Stalker chilled us back then, though the over-plus of poster-vision, superimposition, electronic music, and a dizzying tracking in and out may seem a little cheesy now. And why did everyone think harpsichord music was so scary? The horror genre also heavily populated another 1970s television trend, the made-for-TV movie. One of the most prolific purveyors of ’70s TV horror in a series or a one-off film was Dan Curtis, the guy who brought us Dark Shadows, the first gothic soap opera, in the 1960s. Many people know Curtis for Darren McGavin’s The Night Stalker series, which actually started out with two TV movies: The Nigh Stalker and The Night Strangler. Dan Curtis, quite the busy beaver, also wrote, produced, and/or directed quite a few other telefilms, including Trilogy of Terror, Dracula, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and The Picture of Dorian Grey. One film he wrote/directed/produced that was not based on a classic horror tale was The Norliss Tapes. A pilot that never made it to a series, The Norliss Tapes is a kind of upscale Night Stalker, based on the premise of writer David Norliss investigating supernatural incidents in order to debunk them. Kind of a Scully and Mulder in one. It could have made an interesting series.
The movie starts with a tense David Norliss (Roy Thinnes) brooding over a foggy San Francisco landscape from the balcony of his apartment, then calling up his editor (Don Porter) to pressure him into a meeting about a book he was supposed to have completed on his investigations of the supernatural, with an aim to debunk. He cryptically alludes to threats that have kept him from writing, which he now fears may even take his life. When Norliss misses the meeting, the publisher seeks the writer at his apartment only to comes across a note telling him to play a set of numbered tapes (in the right order!) to understand what’s really going down. After putting the tape in a handy cassette player/recorder (Now there’s a trip down memory lane!), the publisher and audience hear David’s voice narrating us to his first adventure into darkness — dissolve back into the past and away we go! The tale unfolds with a recently widowed woman (Angie Dickinson) encountering a gruesome being in her late husband’s art studio, which of course she and her German Shepherd have to cross a hill and some woods in the middle of the night to access. The creature whips the dog across the room and takes blasts from her shotgun as if it’s only a tackle from a linebacker. Still, he’s down long enough for the woman to get away so she can tell her sister, a pal of David’s, that this thing is a creepy version of her husband. He shows up to investigate, but for a skeptic he comes to believe the woman right quick — dazzled by Angie’s charms? Before you can say Necronomicon (which actually is a long word), victims are being strangled and drained of blood, a new sculpture of something demonic in reddish clay appears to be gradually being finished in the studio, reports emerge of the husband’s prior involvement in dark arts once he learned he was dying, and creepy caverns and crypts reveal horrible secrets. All of which David pieces together, despite the local sheriff’s skepticism not his own.
Despite some of those annoying trackings in and out and a little too much screeching with the electronic music (Robert Colbert did his job much better on Dark Shadows), the movie has some genuinely creepy and suspenseful moments as victims are stalked on dark, lonely nights; in a dank mausoleum; or to a lonely motel room. The film even makes effective use of the traditional “We’ve got to find the monster in this forbidding underground passage before he stirs.” Roy Thinnes, no stranger to the eerie (The Invaders, Horror at 30,000 Feet), makes an interesting and capable investigator: discovering the right people to interview and asking the right questions, as well as effectively using the library. Still, Thinnes plays the guy a little too much on the low-key side; he could make Duchovny’s Mulder look peripatetic. In all fairness, though, didn’t an ambiance of low grade, indefinable anxiety predominate many films of the era, especially mystery and horror? After tale number one ends, the film returns to the editor, ending with him selecting tape number two. So, one wonders what new adventure in horror David Norliss would have faced had this pilot led to a series. Though Chris Carter credits The Night Stalker as an inspiration for The X-Files, the sophistication and the detecting skills of Norliss suggest this film is a much closer match. How might Carter have developed his series if The Norliss Tapes had become a series? Thinnes did reappear on The X-Files as Jeremiah Smith, ironically, an alien, though one with good intentions for us benighted earthlings.
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Well, this title isn’t entirely accurate. Many of the winter birds are still hanging out, as is the cold weather. Still, I thought I’d better post on some of our winter visitors before the air conditioners snap on and the Baltimore Orioles start 
sipping mimosas and fanning themselves. The first visit I want to mention was a local one: the Swedish Cemetery in Worcester. Here, we had the great pleasure of snapping some shots of Gold Crowned Kinglets. These cuties are awfully fast, so Yang actually managed to end up with a few shots of a tree where the bird had been a millisecond before. Nevertheless, he did get some nice photos, as you see. Some were even “action” shots like the one below!
Sharon Healy-Yang 
