Community

LES JARDINS NEIGHBORS COME TOGETHER OVER OWLS

Residents install ‘houses,’ landscape habitats for feathered friends

By Dillon Wyatt

People Newspapers

Marilou Simon spotted an owl flying out from the bushes and landing on her roof in 2012, and the Les Jardins neighborhood hasn’t been the same since.

Simon began caring for wild animals in her backyard, and her passion has caught on with others in her neighborhood.

“After seeing the owl, my kids bought me an owl house the next Christmas,” Simon said. “I had never seen an owl before until I moved

I had never seen an owl before until I moved to Texas, so I put a house up on my tree to see more. Marilou Simon

Baby birds check out the view from an owl house in Marilou Simon’s yard. STANDING, FROM LEFT: Richard Misdom, Marilou Simon, and Wayne Bower. SITTING: Caroline,

Campbell, and Matthew Sharp. (PHOTOS: COURTESY MARILOU SIMON)

to Texas, so I put a house up on my tree to see more. Then, my neighbor got an owl, and one by one, all the other neighbors got interested, and about half of us have owls, half don’t, but eventually, they come.”

Now a member of the National Wildlife Federation, Simon’s backyard has the necessary elements for wildlife to live in a sustainable environment.

“With the National Wildlife Federation, there are four criteria,” Simon said. “You have to have shrubbery that birds could live in, provide food, provide water, and don’t use any toxic chemicals. I use all organics at my house, and there are lots of snakes and lizards and little things that would attract owls.”

By getting better acquainted with how to take care of owls from Simon, Matthew Sharp discovered an easy way to get his 6-year-old daughter, Campbell, more engaged with nature.

“We usually have to travel outside the city to witness more of that, but when she was 3, I got an owl house, and about a month later, an owl was poking its head out of the hole,” Matthew said.

“Campbell named the first owl Cupcake,” Matthew added. “You typically only see owls at dusk and dawn, so right when she woke up, the first thing Campbell did was look and see if Cupcake had her head out. Then in the evenings, we waited for Cupcake to poke her little head up.”

As the neighborhood’s love for owls increased, Wayne Bower started making owl houses.

“After looking at one of Marilou’s houses, I got a good idea of what the dimensions were and made my first house,” Bower said. “A friend of mine then wanted one, and after, a few neighbors also wanted some, so I started making

GIVING A HOOT

• Use traps rather than poisons when controlling rodents and limit the use of pesticides. At the top of the food chain, owls can suffer poisoning by consuming poisoned prey. • Minimize the use of outdoor decorations and take them down promptly after the holiday. • Reduce unnecessary lighting in and around your home and yard. • Make fences more visible and less hazardous; take down sporting nets after use. • Leave dead trees, an old barn, or a shed available for nesting or roosting owls. • Create space by building a nest box. • Drive slow and stay alert for flying owls or roadside birds at night. • Follow all appropriate birding ethics when viewing or photographing owls. • Make your yard an owl-friendly habitat to provide them with a safe space. Source: Texas Parks & Wildlife

them for everyone.”

Matthew said he believes the presence of wildlife and the neighbors’ care for the animals have brought the Les Jardins community together.

“It’s nice, regardless of political beliefs or everything else going on in the world, to have a common cause,” Matthew said. “We strengthen bonds in the neighborhood, and we get to meet new neighbors as well.”

Tales of Novel Writing Persistence from Two Dallas Authors

CHECK IT OUT

Songs In The Key of H: Tales of Irony & Insinuation by Josh Hickman joshhickmanbooks.com $14.99

To Be by Robert M. Lebovitz amazon.com $23.95

JOSH HICKMAN

As an author, I know the journey can come with twists and turns punctuated by

straight lines.

My recent conversation with Dallas author Robert Lebovitz confirmed this as we shared our writing processes and experiences.

Though our backgrounds wildly differ, we both started writing novels in our mature years.

My past had been one of art, film, music, and odd jobs, interrupted by writing stints.

Bob had been rooted in engineering, eventually becoming an academic associate professor of neurobiology with forays into artistic photography.

Now a youthful 85, Lebovitz started his first novel 10 years after his 2000 retirement.

After struggling with four “serious” novels in my 40s, I finally gave in and found my natural niche in comic novels at 47, happily finishing four books in two years.

“I thought I couldn’t make a living being a writer in my 20s, so I continued with my Ph.D. work,” Lebovitz recalled. “I spend a lot of time outlining, then putting in the moment to moment action isn’t difficult.”

His first effort is also his latest release (though he has other published books and plays). It took over a decade to perfect To Be, a speculative novel based on reality, or “plausible fiction,” as he puts it, dealing with encroaching agism in modern society.

I also deal in plausible fiction, especially in my latest work, albeit more humorously. My sixth book, Songs In The Key of H: Tales of Irony & Insinuation, is a collection of short stories illuminating subjects of recent concern — aging, death, technology, hive-mind thinking — with a healthy helping of irony and absurdism.

Bob is an all-day writer; I’m best in the morning and work in bursts, editing in the afternoon. We’re both avid note-takers and outliners. His latest book took around 25 drafts. Mine required about six. I do a lot of editing in my head before I write. But we both agree on stopping when we hit a block. As he puts it, “I know from my days of computer programming, if you can’t figure out what’s wrong with the loop, leave it. Tomorrow, you’ll figure it out in five seconds.”

We both utilize creative visualization. “I write like I’m imagining a movie,” Lebovitz said — a tactic I employ, having a background in film. We mentally see each character, place, and situation before writing. I even sketch drawings of faces at times. And while I am perhaps a painter of words, Bob is a sculptor, observing, “I see what’s in there, and I keep pecking away at it until it gets into the form I’m happy with.”

Our recent writings deal in part with contemporary confu-

Robert Lebovitz (COURTESY PHOTOS)

sion in perception and action (or lack thereof). “It’s hard to know what’s real anymore,” as Lebovitz said, “and people and groups are making use of that.”

“I enjoy the process,” he added, chuckling. “I’m not so much goal-driven.”

I, too, write much more for the love of writing and self-expression than “for the money,” goodness knows.

For years, I have been trying to get in shape. I have failed miserably for several reasons. I hate to breathe hard and sweat, and I don’t look good in leggings. My husband says my heart rate hasn’t been above 120 since I saw Troy MICHELE VALDEZ Aikman at Café Pacific on Valentine’s Day a few years ago.

So, during COVID, I decided to start walking with friends because a good gal pal will always challenge you.

I reached out to a retired former colleague and asked her to meet on the Northaven Trail. I wondered if we would be compatible walkers. She has long legs but talks nonstop, so I figured that would give me an advantage.

On the trail, after exchanging greetings, my old friend turned competitive ambler and took off like a Top Gun pilot blasting off an aircraft carrier deck.

She chatted endlessly and never lost her breath. As I galloped to keep up, I mentally calculated the distance to Medical City if I passed out. I was certain that day was my last on earth. Every part of me contributed to the effort. Body parts were bouncing that should never bounce. When I made it home alive, I quickly marked her off my list of potential fitness partners.

Next, I tried a tennis buddy who now lives in a palace in Buenos Aires. On my recent visit, she suggested we go walking. I quickly agreed. After all, it was the least I could do for my gracious host. Plus, she is older and shorter than me, so I trusted that keeping pace would be a breeze. Wrong. She mowed through the beautiful city parks like Rich Strike at the Kentucky Derby. I was breathing like my life depended on it. Upon our return to the palace, I collapsed face down in a puddle of sweat on one of the Persians.

I began to wonder if I have a defect. How could I be so slow given that almost every day, I hop on the treadmill at a decent saunter and a slight incline for at least 30 minutes?

Acceptance is always the first step. Maybe walking with friends isn’t for me. Maybe it’s best to go solo – stroll at my own pace, sans sweat, breathing comfortably.

That day, I increased both incline and speed on the treadmill.

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