Cock Fighting

You walk around Key West, you see chickens in the wild. Their story isn't very well documented but the myth says they came over with Cuban refugees who used them for cock fighting back home. Which makes no sense as  they wouldn't have brought chickens as well, you only fight roosters.

Anyway the chickens are on the streets and the tourists love them. I'm not that fond of the chickens actually as they are noisy  and  messy kicking gravel over the sidewalks...But they are harmless and do their bit for the city.  

Then you see small boys chasing them. They chased the rooster over and under the tables of a nearby restaurant(!), they hunted the rooster here and there. They do this on Stock Island too and people fight them in illegal rings. Cock fights have been outlawed in Florida for a while but they still happen. And someone has to supply the talent. Enter fast small boys on the street looking for pocket money:

The rooster's empty pointless life on the streets is over. No crime here, just a kid with a pet bird...

The conversation was about fighting the newly caught bird with the dude limin' behind his fence.  

My anger spilled out when I stopped the kid and asked him what did he plan to do with the bird and he ignored me. Why shouldn't he, it's none of my business as I wander his community. So how much of this is gross abuse and how much is culturally entrenched customs that ought to be respected? Beats me, Is it worse than dog fighting..? Depends how you feel about chickens and dogs I suppose. Had I slapped the kid and deprived him of his pocket money for a day I would have been at fault. The street chickens are cute maybe, but they don't bring out the best in us.

Play Group

A funny thing happened to me this winter, Rusty found a play group. Two old white guys, like me but older happened to be at the water's edge with their dogs and Rusty had so much fun playing I went back.

 I lie. I went back because the two old white farts, like me a bit, made me laugh. And think. I discovered they weren't annoying but they were interesting. 

We talk politics though they are harder to label than am I (a Sanders Democrat), they are sort of libertarian no party affiliation, socially liberal free thinking common sense rough and tough retirees.

Rusty plays with Sam the chocolate Labrador, whenever Sam isn't chewing on seaweed or sticks, and he runs from Lucas the fat, speedy Dalmatian who lives with Rich, the less hard of hearing of the two (in the black shorts). Brian is from Kentucky and he is the funniest driest commentator on the human condition you ever heard.

I tell myself I take Rusty to the beach so he can play and splash and get socialized like any happy dog.

The truth is, its as much for me as it is for him. We talk about the state of the world, their travels as they plan their return trips to Kentucky and Connecticut, their insomnia, their retirement activities, Trump, riding motorcycles and fishing.  It is the best way to unwind after a night of 911. I go once a week at least...for Rusty.

It's all coming to an end and I don't know how to break it to Rusty.

 At least I'll still have my camera.

 How do I break it to Rusty?

Winter is coming to an end and in a couple of weeks they will be gone. I am truly bummed; I surprise myself.

Now we have a reason to look forward to next winter.

Summer In Winter

The seasons everywhere are going haywire thanks to that Chinese hoax called climate change. Or not, perhaps a snow-free winter will be the norm just because in the decades to come. Perhaps California will go from drought to flood and back again like a meteorological yo-yo, just because...Don here in the Keys the weather has gone weird. We are coming into Spring and we had but a couple of nights with temperatures below 60 American degrees or 15 Canadian. That is the new normal.

And then the rain comes and goes at random just like it was summer. Walking back to the car from Sugarloaf Creek, almost two miles of dirt road it started to rain and I wondered if I was going to get wet. Rusty didn't seem to mind and honestly I wouldn't have minded so much as it was a hot humid morning and rain might have cleared the air...But it stopped as soon as it started. Typical summer weather nonsense.

 Rusty is the one with the brown fur, I'm the one going gray,.

 I told you it was a hot morning and this was taken around 8 o'clock:

 A sea grape leaf. I was bored while Rusty paused so I was playing with macro functions on my Lumix  camera.

 Yes, it has been raining at random, we even had summer thunderstorms that night. It's not normal I tell you. Perhaps the Chinese aren't running a hoax but the real thing?

The Wheels of Commerce

Rusty was ambling with his nose down and I was looking around through the eye of my camera lense, a  habit which makes me focus on the details I otherwise wouldn't notice. I saw the scooters parked under the thatch palms and without my noticing the telephoning cyclist hove into view. I see it all the time: people on bikes and scooters (and skateboards too!) with a phone glued to their ear, or shouting into an earbud microphone...All things are critically important for those of us equipped with a  portable electric telephone.

 And then there are those moments of introspection when we present a blank face to the world as we ponder, and finish a Cuban sandwich. I kept Rusty on a  short leash because, even though he isn't very food driven he won't ignore low hanging fruit, especially in the form of a proffered Cuban sandwich from Five Brothers. The owner of the food woke up suddenly and withdrew his hand as my furry predator got closer.

Limin'  - a Caribbean term denoting hanging out and chatting and accomplishing nothing more. He was buried in his paper behind his bare feet, something I doubt he would do in his suburb Up North, while the dog was far from limin's and looked ready to challenge Rusty on a  mere pretext but my boy ignored him as you do bullies.

I laughed when I saw the prim and crisp representation of a modern chef caught between the stacks of just-in-time supplies from mainland warehouses. Rusty paused long enough for me to compose the picture before we were off again.  

Some lime, some wheel boxes of food under the winter sun, some turn bicycles into offices. And the wheels go round.

Those Picket Fences

Not all fences in Key West are proper picket fences.

 I saw this "AAA Approved" sign on the fence outside Mangia Mangia restaurant. Does anyone, I wondered, use AAA recommendations anymore? Does Triple A make recommendations? I am a member and I have Tripadvisor on my iPhone...

I think this next picture was on Margaret Street near Carey Lane with my back to the cemetery. The dude on the left had just stepped inside clearing the way for the picture, then he stepped out and butted into my frame. I felt like complaining but that seemed a bit harsh as it was his front yard.

 This one made its way to my Instagram account, Angela Street alongside the cemetery:

Strictly speaking this isn't  a picket fence but I like Bonnie Albury's house even restored to gleaming perfection, as I remember it the way it was when Bonnie, the last of her family was fading away there and calling 911 petulantly complaining about painters setting up easels on the sidewalks painting her old pile against her wishes. I talked her down many times when I worked day shift in 2004  and 2005.

Lots of lines and woodwork to keep pristine in these non-picket fences at the Albury house on Southard Street. The decks are painted with some weird gleaming paint that looks like it just got rained on.

 Quintessential Key West:

 The Citizen newspaper box on its side at the same location, however its label still manages to come up right side up. Down but not out: also quintessentially Key West.

Key West Monochrome

I really liked this picture of the church at Fleming and William:

 And this one worked for me, a corner of the Old Harris School on Southard:

 On my Instagram account I labeled this one "waiting."

 Not quite black and white this shot of an empty dining room at Turtle Kraals:

 A lighted boat:

 A post doubling as a bill board display:

 The Galleon resort:

 Front Street looking toward Duval: