Crabs and Mangoes

 Ah, Summer in Miami. Flowering trees are a small consolation for the heat and humidity. This year the royals are just average -- some years the blazing orange grabs your attention as you drive down the street. I guess plants and animals are cyclic -- in fact, I know they are.

Last year was a bumper crop of mangoes. They were everywhere. Some neighbors, Melissa and David, even put out a notice in the local app, inviting everyone over a weekend to come take as many as they wished. Some of the snootier neighbors objected to inviting some "sketchy" cars and peoples into our enclave. I couldn't care less -- let them eat mangoes!

This year, they're scarce. D1 and Jonathan have a tree, and were looking forward to their first ones. Alas, there are just a few of the fruit, which Joey picked and took home. I haven't asked how they were.

I totally get the idea of the exquisiteness of eating something growing in your yard. We used to grow tomatoes and cucumbers and green peppers during LI Summers. My Dad and I agreed -- nothing like a freshly picked beefsteak tomato -- delicious.

When we moved into our first house, I planted a large garden -- too large. I spent a lot of time schlepping tomatoes and eggplants and cukes to the office -- I planted enough for 20 people, not just Wifey and me.

And then there are the land crabs. They used to be so plentiful, you could see hordes of them crossing Old Cutler Road -- puncturing tires, in fact. Lately their numbers are down -- some years we see few of them. A few years ago, Vienna and Bo cornered one in the back yard -- the little things can get very mean, especially if threatened. The dogs were perilously close to having some pinched noses, but I pulled them away in time, as the crab seemed to give us the middle claw.

This year there are a lot of them again. I've seen three around our house, and the neighborhood apps abound with photos of them. New transplants question what they are -- are they edible. I remember long ago learning they are -- but you have to keep them in a pen for awhile and feed them, lest you ingest the carrion and other nasty stuff they feed on naturally.

In other nature news, D1 thought she saw a turd from her new dog, but the turd started to peep. It was a baby cardinal, fallen from a nest. She and Joey looked for the nest -- nowhere in sight. Joey, bless his sweet heart, made a box for the little guy, that D1 named Cardi B. Joey gave it water through a syringe, and fed it some crushed dog food. Late at night, he placed the replacement nest into a hedge, high up, and the following day the little guy was gone -- hopefully reclaimed by its parents.

It recalled an episode we had years ago -- a nest appeared in a potted ficus on our loggio, and some unusual birds were in it. Mike, the polymath, of course had an Audobon guide to all birds of North America, and we identified our visitors as red eared bulbuls. They live in India and South Miami --nowhere else! Some importer must have released some, and since our monsoon client is sort of like India's, they thrived.

Several eggs hatched, and Wifey summoned her inner Marlon Perkins -- taping the birds each day. Finally, they all flew away, and the guide book said they tend to return yearly to the same location to nest again. Alas, ours did not -- we got gypsy, if you can use that word anymore, bulbuls.

So Summer is here, with its slightly slower vibe. Lots of people are away in their northern escapes, or off on long trips. We're here, and it's fine, at least until one of the crabs bites me.