If you are the regular reader of my blog, you may notice that I’ve unpublished a recent series of rants over the current and escalating war between Automattic (really, Matt Mullenweg himself) and WP Engine.
I’ve unpublished them because they were angry and unfocused rants, as I struggled to get a handle on why what is happening is happening, and what it really means to (and for) me, as well as the larger WordPress community.
This afternoon I channeled that frustration into some long-overdue household tasks — fixing a kitchen cabinet door, shampooing the carpet in the upstairs hallway, clearing out the clogged drain of a bathroom sink — and those few hours of manual labor gave me time to sift through the thoughts and feelings piling up in my brain.
I realized that the heart of the matter is a lack of common agreement on the nature of free open source software (FOSS) — specifically, both the ethics and the economics of FOSS. Now that I’ve realized what is at the heart of my recent frustration and anger, I can start thinking — and writing — more constructively about it, rather than firing off aimless missives.
A more coherent mini-essay on this topic is forthcoming. But for now, the earlier angry posts are unpublished. Gone, but not forgotten. And, well, not really gone. Thanks to WordPress.
Stay tuned…
In the meantime, read this. Then this. Then consider this.
The folly of blog-centric “author” functionality in the context of a modern WordPress-based, non-blog website
This week’s article on The Verge about the latest messy drama in the WordPress world (tl;dr it’s Matt Mullenweg vs. WP Engine, and if you’ve read any of my previous writings about WordPress you can probably guess whose side I’m on in that fight) got me thinking once again about how Matt really doesn’t understand his creation.
And yes, I’m personifying the entire core team in Matt. But, let’s be serious. He kind of does that himself.
Anyway, today I got an email from a long-time client who uses WordPress and WooCommerce — which, fun fact, is now owned by Automattic, the company that not only is the primary supporter of the open source WordPress project, but is “cleverly” named after Matt himself! — describing a weird situation.
This client’s WooCommerce site has been running for ages. Well over a decade. And a lot of their products have been on the site with minimal edits for years. But this client noticed a few days ago that a large number of those products had suddenly lost their images, and he was hoping I could get to the bottom of it.
Fortunately, I have the excellent Simple History plugin installed on the site, so I was able to go back and investigate the recent activity.
Much to my surprise, I found that this client himself had deleted all of those product images a week ago. At first I jumped to the conclusion that his account had been compromised. But I noticed that the IP address he was logged in from matched the local ISP his business uses. So, it sure seemed to be him.
I scrolled through pages and pages of logs just like this, all with timestamps in a span of 3 minutes:
Finally, at the end of that list, there was this:
Now I understood what was going on.
Once again it’s a situation where the origins of WordPress as blogging software come back to bite it. Or rather, me. And my clients.
There’s a lot of functionality around “authors” in WordPress that really only makes sense if the site is a blog — a blog with multiple authors. Like the fact that author archive pages exist. Even if your site isn’t a blog. And that, unless you take steps to shut these off, e.g. with a plugin, every user with author- or higher access automatically has an author archive page that shows all of the posts they published on the site.
Do you want that? Do you even know it exists? I’ve made my living in the WordPress ecosystem for more than a decade and even I usually forget it’s a thing.
But there’s something even worse…
Uh-oh.
Does the average WordPress site admin (not developer, just an ordinary site admin) really understand what content ownership means in WordPress?
Is it reasonable to assume that someone faced with this screen truly understands that clicking that Delete all content radio button is going to delete all of the images in the Media Library that this user ever uploaded, even to posts (and remember, WooCommerce products are “posts”) that they didn’t initially create?
Because that’s what it’s about to do.
In fact, that is exactly what it did do to my client last week. And now I’m working on a way to restore those deleted images.
Well, what should WordPress do in this situation?
For starters, the text of the options could be a lot more explicit about the implications of the choice. The radio button for attributing the content to another user — ideally whatever Administrator-role account’s email address matches the primary admin email, if one exists — could be pre-selected as the default. There absolutely should be a confirmation dialog warning, in scary language, that anything the user ever created, including file uploads to the Media Library, will be deleted permanently.
Or, maybe it could be “smarter” on a whole other level, and adapt contextually so that when the site is clearly not using the blog author functionality, it would not even present this option. Just un-assign the authorship meta data, but keep the content. At least for Media Library files.
So, now what?
Fortunately, the site is hosted at WP Engine (remember them?) and they automatically make daily backups of every site. Downloading the backup from the day before all this went down was the easy part. But since a week has gone by and the client has been busy updating the site, I can’t just restore the backup… they’d lose all their work (plus all of the details of orders that came in over the same week). So I need to find a way to reimport the relevant images and remap them to the products.
Also fortunately, I’ve done a ton of direct, hands-on work in MySQL databases over the years, so I think I’ll be able to pretty quickly narrow down the list of products that “lost” their images last week, as well as which images those were. Getting them reassigned where they belong though may not be so easy.
That’s been Matt’s cute little tagline on his own WordPress blog since the dawn of time, but I feel like we’re the unlucky ones.
Update, a while later: Instead of leaving this post as an unresolved rant, I decided to make something constructive out of it and write up how I restored the images.
First I went into WP Engine’s Backups section, and used the Prepare ZIP option on the backups from both the day before and the day after the incident. I chose to download the database and the uploads directory. I left the plugins and themes directories out of it, because they’re not relevant here, and I’ve got enough to deal with already.
Once I downloaded and extracted the two zip files, which — no joke — took over a half hour even on my fiber gigabit connection, I put them into two adjacent folders on my Mac desktop, and then in Terminal I ran the following command:
diff -rq folder1 folder2 > differences.txt
The actual folder names should be subbed in for the black text. This gave me a file called differences.txt that listed all of the files in the old archive that were not in the new archive. I opened the file in BBEdit for further processing.
Of course, this list included all of the scaled-down versions of the images, and I only really want the source images. WordPress appends the dimensions of each scaled-down image into the filename before the extension, so I was able to use BBEdit’s Process Lines Containing… tool to filter those out with a grep. (Note: This regular expression is a little rough, because it assumes that you didn’t upload any images that included a string consisting of a hyphen, some digits, an x, some more digits, and a period.)
-[0-9]+x[0-9]+\.
Since I’m on a Mac and had already been mucking around in those folders in the Finder, I also had to run the tool again to delete the inevitable .DS_Store files.
Inside the parent folder for the old archive, adjacent to the uploads directory, I created a new director called images-to-restore where I intended to put all of the images I… need to restore. Then I ran a find-and replace on the remaining lines in the text file in BBEdit to turn it into a series of commands in this format:
Obviously the part in black was unique for each line. And, of course, this is assuming they never uploaded files with the same filename in different months. (Hint: They did, of course they did, and I won’t realize that until much later in the process.) I will leave it for the reader to determine the most efficient way to modify this cp command to avoid overwriting duplicates.
I saved this to a new file in that same directory called script.sh and in the Terminal, gave it execute permission. Then… I ran it. Boom, within a second, the 531 deleted images were all gathered in one place, ready to upload back into the Media Library.
This is where I stopped for the night. It was already 6 PM, and I needed a fresh start to figure out the database portion.
Update #2, the next morning: OK, how is this database portion going to work? All 531 images are now in the Media Library, but I have two main challenges here:
Figuring out how WooCommerce handles the main Product Image. Is it just a relabeling of the standard Featured Image, as it seems to be? Answer: Yes. So, how are those handled in the database? In the wp_postmeta table, there are records with the product ID in the post_id field, '_thumbnail_id' in the meta_key field, and the attachment ID in the meta_value field. Knowing that, I can move on to…
Figuring out how to map the new attachment IDs for the re-uploaded images to the correct product IDs. This is involved enough that I need to break out of the ordered list, so… here we go, back to regular paragraphs.
Before I continue… if you are getting the impression that I’m writing this as I go through the process, you’re absolutely correct. And that will come back to bite me.
Along with the images themselves, I downloaded copies of the database from the days immediately before and after the incident. The problem is, running a diff in BBEdit on two large (360 MB) SQL files is not going to be very useful. I need to just load those tables into a sandbox database and run some queries against them.
First, I used BBEdit to cut out just the tables I need (wp_posts and wp_postmeta), from the rest of the SQL files. I also did a find-and-replace to change the table prefixes so I could put both versions into the same database and easily tell them apart. I used wp22_ and wp24_ as the prefixes, to match the before-and-after dates.
There are two ways I could handle this next step. Since I have a list of the filenames I re-uploaded, I could search on those. Or, I could search for attachment-type posts in wp22_ that are missing in wp24_. I went with that approach since it’s much cleaner:
SELECT ID, guid FROM wp22_posts WHERE post_type = 'attachment' AND ID NOT IN (SELECT ID FROM wp24_posts WHERE post_type = 'attachment');
(Note: I conventionally wrap table and field names in backticks, but that’s not technically required — unless their names match a SQL command keyword, which good database designers know not to do anyway — and since the Block Editor uses the backtick character as a shortcut to jump into and out of “inline code” mode, I had to omit them here.)
All I really needed was the ID field, but I brought in the guid field as well so I can do a sanity check. That field contains the full direct URLs to the images in the Media Library.
This query only returned 529 records, not the 531 I was expecting, but I’m not too worried about that. Even if I’ve lost the mapping for two images along the way, this is going to get my client back 99.6% of the missing images. Eventually they’ll find the two products that still don’t have images, and since those images are back in the Media Library now, it’ll be easy to fix them manually. (Or, it’s possible that only 529 products are missing images and the other two images are something random.)
Of course, I also need to know the new attachment IDs for the re-uploads. So I went into the current version of the database and extracted the wp_posts and wp_postmeta tables there too. (I left their prefixes unchanged.) There’s a useful record in the wp_postmeta table, with a meta_key of '_wp_attached_file'. That’s the relative URI for the original image file, under the site’s wp-content/uploads directory.
In the “current” table, I’m just going to search for attachments I (user ID 1) uploaded yesterday:
SELECT ID, guid FROM wp_posts WHERE post_type = 'attachment' AND post_author = '1' AND post_date LIKE '2024-09-30%';
The trick of course is that the guid records are not going to be the same, thanks to how WordPress sorts uploads into year- and month-based subdirectories. (Also, I’m assuming they never uploaded two images with the same filename in different months. But again we’re back to just trying to resolve the bulk of the problem. I’m not going for 100% perfection.)
What I need is a way to find just the filename portion of the guid URL value. Fortunately, there’s a way to do that in MySQL, and even though my SQL skills are rusty, my googling1 skills aren’t, so I found a solution courtesy of StackOverflow. It’s the SUBSTRING_INDEX() function.
So, here’s my way of finding a mapping of the old attachment IDs to the new attachment IDs, using that function. Note that I’m only bothering with using the second of the above queries (reduced to one operand to avoid MySQL error #1241) in narrowing down the list, because that’s all I really need to do with an INNER JOIN.
SELECT wp22_posts.post_parent AS product_id, SUBSTRING_INDEX(wp22_posts.guid, '/', -1) AS filename, wp22_posts.ID AS old_id, wp22_posts.guid AS old_guid, wp_posts.ID AS new_id, wp_posts.guid AS new_guid FROM wp22_posts INNER JOIN wp_posts INNER JOIN wp22_postmeta ON wp22_postmeta.post_id = wp22_posts.ID AND wp22_postmeta.meta_key = '_wp_attached_file' WHERE SUBSTRING_INDEX(wp22_posts.guid, '/', -1) = SUBSTRING_INDEX(wp_posts.guid, '/', -1) AND wp_posts.ID IN (SELECT ID FROM wp_posts WHERE post_type = 'attachment' AND post_author = '1' AND post_date LIKE '2024-09-30%');
RRRRRRRRRRIP…
That was the moment when I realized that the client did, in fact, upload quite a few different images with the same filename over the years. And since I didn’t account for that in my shell script yesterday, those got flattened down to just one instance each. Fortunately, the problem isn’t as bad as I initially feared. This mapping query returned 558 results. That’s 29 more than I expected, and it corresponds to 29 duplicate filenames. But, the wp22_posts.post_parent field (labeled as product_id for clarity for myself), which corresponds to the product records the images are actually attached to, returned a lot of 0 values. What that means is, the products those images were associated with had already been deleted at some point. That was 205 of the total 558 records, bringing the number of products I actually need to “fix” down to 353, and among those I was only able to find 7 duplicate filenames. So we’re at 98.0% now.
Most importantly, with this narrowed down list, I also now have a direct mapping of the product IDs to the new attachment IDs. I copied just the product_id and new_id columns from the spreadsheet and pasted them into BBEdit, to generate my list of SQL UPDATE statements.
Maybe there’s a better way to do this, but this is how I’ve always handled it. Now I have a text document in BBEdit with a pair of numbers on each line, with some tabs in between. Some careful use of find-and-replace can turn those tabs and line breaks into a series of individual UPDATEs that will look like this:
UPDATE wp_posts SET post_parent = 111528 WHERE ID = 118861 AND post_parent = 0 LIMIT 1;
The AND parent_id = 0 LIMIT 1 portion is just kind of a safety check. It means that I won’t modify any records that already have a post_parent set, and that each update will only affect one row. (I mean, that’s really redundant because the WHERE ID = clause necessarily limits it to one row since ID is the primary key of the table. But better safe than sorry.
I ran the batch of UPDATEs in my sandbox database first and did some spot checks to make sure the correct post_parent values had gotten assigned to the newly re-uploaded image records. It checked out, so I went ahead and ran it on the live database. Fingers crossed…
Oh, but before I ran it on the live database, I backed up the table. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way, many years ago.
And…
It didn’t work.
Well now, hang on a second. Maybe the problem is that I missed a step. That’s right, back to #1 from today’s to-do list. I need to create those '_thumbnail_id' records in the wp_postmeta table.
Back to the old database to cross-reference these:
SELECT post_id as product_id, meta_value as old_id FROM wp22_postmeta WHERE meta_key = '_thumbnail_id' AND meta_value IN (SELECT ID FROM wp22_posts WHERE post_type = 'attachment' AND ID NOT IN (SELECT ID FROM wp24_posts WHERE post_type = 'attachment'));
Now that’s the simple version, just to make it reasonable to grasp what’s going on. It’s only returning the product IDs along with the old attachment ID associated as the featured image. But I need to map these to the new image IDs. That’s going to require merging in that really complicated query from above.
Honestly, trying to think that through started to melt my brain, so I decided to take a novel approach. You can make up whatever meta data you want. So I decided to insert a new type of meta data in the current database, to store the mappings of the old IDs to the new ones. Back to my BBEdit find-and-replace approach, pulling the old and new IDs in and generating a set of INSERT statements like this:
INSERT INTO wp_postmeta (meta_key, meta_value, post_id) VALUES ('_recovery_20240930_old_id', old_id, new_id);
With that step completed, I’m able to short-circuit further exploration and jump straight to the following update statement. In the interest of time, I once again blasted through a BBEdit find-and-replace. I believe it’s possible to do this with a single UPDATE statement with the correctly chosen subqueries, but I’m running out of time so I need to resort to the quick-and-dirty approach. (Note, this turned out not to require those '_recovery_20240930_old_id' meta data records at all, but they’re nice to have for possible future reference anyway… and they’d be essential to the smarter, single-query solution.)
I discovered that as I had worked with a few of the products, their meta records for _thumbnail_id had already been deleted, so the best approach was to delete all of the associated _thumbnail_id records, and then insert new ones.
DELETE FROM wp_postmeta WHERE meta_key = '_thumbnail_id' AND meta_value IN (…) LIMIT 353;
The ellipses should be replaced with a comma-delimited list of the “old” attachment IDs. Then, blast through BBEdit find-and-replace again to create insert statements like the following, mapping the new attachment IDs to the associated product IDs:
INSERT INTO wp_postmeta (meta_key, post_id, meta_value) VALUES ('_thumbnail_id', 114396, 118771);
It worked! Of course, there are a bunch of products with multiple images and those are not yet reassigned to the WooCommerce galleries, but at least all — or almost all — of the products now have a featured image again so the WooCommerce “missing image” placeholder isn’t showing up everywhere.
I do not like Adobe. That is probably an understatement, but I’ll leave it at that for now.
Adobe software is inextricably connected to my career throughout my adult life. When I first started to learn web design and development in college in 1994 (entirely on my own, in my spare time — this was not something one did, or even could, study at that point), the two applications I installed on my Macintosh LC475 were BBEdit and Photoshop.
I still use BBEdit every day to write code. But I stopped using Photoshop in 2016. My opinion of Adobe had long since soured, but what finally did the relationship in was their switch to a subscription model. I didn’t enjoy spending over $1000 on a Creative Suite license, but I did it, because it was what you needed to do if you were a design professional. Then came the subscriptions. They eased you in at first — $25/seat. My business was growing, so at one point I subscribed to 3 seats. $75/month seemed like a lot to pay, but I was willing to do it.
Then the introductory rates ended, and I was suddenly paying $225/month.
Then my employees moved on, and I decided not to replace them. Now I was paying $225/month just for myself.
Then, I discovered the true insidious, Comcast-esque evil of Adobe’s subscription model. Oh yes, it is extremely easy to add more seats to your business account. You can do it online, at any time. It takes less than a minute. Boom! But if you want to cancel any of those seats, you can only do it within one month of your annual subscription renewal. Otherwise, you have to pay half of the remaining annual balance for early termination. Oh, and you have to call them on the phone to cancel, so the rep can read their hard-sell script to try to persuade you to stay.
I discovered this when I had 6 months left in my 2016 subscription period. So, I could continue my subscription for those 6 months, and pay another $1350, or I could cancel now and pay $675. I chose the latter. Then I spent another $100 buying one-time licenses for Affinity Photo and Affinity Designer.
Eight years later, I’ve spent a total of $100 more on Affinity software, to upgrade both apps when version 2 was released.
In the meantime, I have also paid another $800 to Adobe. Because even though I canceled my Creative Cloud subscription, I still needed Typekit, since I was using their fonts all over client websites. And by that point, Typekit had become Adobe Fonts.
You can no longer just subscribe to Typekit/Adobe Fonts. But if you subscribe to any Adobe product, Adobe Fonts comes with the subscription for free. So I subscribed to Adobe XD, their cheapest annual subscription. I never use XD. I guess it’s actually related to what I do (web design), but it’s not part of my workflow at all. I think I’ve maybe opened it twice. It’s really just about the fonts.
But I really hate having to have the Creative Cloud Desktop app on my Mac. It’s constantly running in the background, using up resources for… what, exactly? Sadly, you can only install fonts from Adobe on the desktop if you have it running. If you uninstall the app, or even just quit the app, the fonts stop working.
Well, how badly do I really need those fonts? I’m about to find out. I do use some of them quite frequently, but I would consider very few of them truly essential to my work, except for Aktiv Grotesk. I use it in all of my business documents as a slightly more unique alternative to Helvetica. But a recent Linus Boman video turned me on to Rubik instead. (At the time of writing, that’s the font you’re reading these words in.)
So maybe I’ll just continue my increasing reliance on free open source fonts from Google Fonts, combined with, you know, just licensing commercial fonts from the foundries when there’s a really good one that I can only otherwise get on Adobe Fonts.
With that decision settled, I was able to make this happen:
But I’m still paying for Adobe Fonts (in the form of an XD subscription) for now. I went through my Adobe Fonts web projects yesterday and culled about 1/3 of the ones that are no longer in use, either because we redesigned the client’s site or because they’re no longer working with me. But I still have 55 web projects set up. If I were to cancel my subscription, effectively shutting off Typekit access for those sites, I suspect at least half of the clients wouldn’t even notice their sites were falling back to browser default fonts. But I’m not inclined to do that… yet.
I’m going to try living for a while without Adobe Fonts on the desktop. And if it turns out I truly no longer need them, then I will happily work out a way to phase out those fonts on my clients’ websites too, and cancel my subscription altogether. But for now I just consider it an improvement that Adobe is not sapping resources on my MacBook Pro for whatever they were doing on it.
If you don’t know what Elementor is, good. If you do, you probably either hate it too, or else you’ve never used WordPress without it. (And even if you haven’t ever used WordPress without it, you still might hate it.)
In my experience, Elementor is hot garbage, and it makes the overall WordPress experience bad.
It’s not just Elementor. There are several “page builder” plugins for WordPress, and they’re all terrible. Divi, WP Bakery, Beaver Builder, etc. They all deviate wildly from the way WordPress is intended to work. Since 2018 WordPress has had the Block Editor (a.k.a. Gutenberg) built-in, which is essentially a page builder itself. Now that Gutenberg has matured enough to be useful, those other page builders are completely unnecessary.
Among the page builders, I think Elementor is the worst. Why? Mainly because of its ubiquity.
Elementor is extremely popular, in part because there’s a companion theme/gateway drug called Hello Elementor. It is the most popular third-party WordPress theme, as evidenced by its lofty position at the top of the WordPress theme download screen, surrounded by the official annual themes and one other third-party theme, Astra. (I actually really like Astra, because for the most part, it does things the WordPress way.)
Why is Hello Elementor so popular? Presumably people do like it. But I think it is also an example of what I would call the popularity feedback loop. It’s a natural, and harmful, side effect of a page like this, also commonly seen on e-commerce sites.
If you sort things by popularity, with the most popular items at the top, those are what people are going to see first. And most people don’t want to spend a lot of time considering options. They may trust popular opinion, or they may be too impatient to consider their options carefully, or they may just not care at all. So they click on the first thing that catches their attention, thereby making the popular thing even more popular, and dooming less popular options to oblivion, regardless of their quality.
The people choosing to default these lists to ranking by popularity may think they’re making an objectively straightforward choice, but they’re not considering how the popularity feedback loop might have much more of an effect on the rankings than quality, because they’re falsely assuming that people are making careful, rational choices.
There’s a large segment of the developer world that tries to avoid making “opinionated” decisions. But that’s a delusion. Every decision is opinionated. I would prefer to lean into it. Make the default a “recommended” list of options that have been evaluated by knowledgeable editors. Granted, that’s a lot more work, and is still subject to personal opinion and taste, but it could weed out the popular-but-garbage options that inevitably float to the top.
There’s another reason in this specific context why it matters. New users don’t understand the WordPress ecosystem. They don’t know about third-party themes and plugins. They don’t know what does or does not adhere to “the WordPress way.”
So, a new user comes in and wants to pick a theme for their site. Their eye is drawn to the Hello Elementor screenshot, which has been carefully designed to be attention-grabbing, especially compared to the rather pedestrian appearance of the official themes.
That’s all fine in and of itself. Third-party themes are great! But when you activate the Hello Elementor theme, it immediately starts prompting you to install the Elementor page builder plugin as well. If you’re not an experienced user, what are you supposed to do with this? You probably install it, of course. And now you’re in page builder land. It’s not WordPress anymore. The experience is completely different.
But what is it about page builders that’s so bad? (And this part really applies to Gutenberg to a large extent as well.) They’re supposed to be making it easier to design your web pages, right? Well… there’s only so much you can do to make designing a web page easier. There’s no way to deal with things like margins or padding without understanding what margins and padding are. The page builders end up being CSS GUIs. Maybe you’re not writing the code, but you still need to know the concepts to get anywhere. So you end up either creating a convoluted mess, or at best you do learn the concepts, but in a compromised way, that is inextricably tied to that page builder plugin. It’s lock-in.
I could go on, but I think there are two main ways to address the problem of the popularity feedback loop, at least as it applies specifically to WordPress themes, but also more generally:
Don’t default to a “most popular” view. I know it takes a lot more work, and is a lot more subjective, but the best default would be a “recommended” view. Some editorial decisions need to be made. Consider popularity, of course, but also consider context. Which themes are the best for a newcomer? Which ones offer the most pure WordPress experience?
Make the “most popular” list conditional. This is a more automated version of #1. Maybe you don’t have a carefully curated editorial list of recommendations, but at the very least, determine some criteria that can restrict what shows up in the list. For starters, maybe a theme cannot load with an admin notice pushing users to install a plugin. Would Hello Elementor be such a problem if it didn’t immediately lure new users into installing a page builder plugin too? Probably not.
Ultimately, I have my own selfish motivations in all of this. I develop a number of WordPress plugins myself, and I need to provide user support for them. And a significant percentage of my overall user support load — I would say it’s around 15-20% — is around conflicts with Elementor.
Since about Sunday, a sparrow has been frantically chirping, for hours on end, outside our kitchen window. It’s that brief period of transition from spring into summer in Minnesota, when having the windows open is ideal, so the sparrow’s apparent distress extremely audible inside our house.
On Tuesday morning I decided to investigate the issue, mainly because we were concerned it was building a nest in our gutter. So I got out the extension ladder, made my way up to the second story of our house, and peered into the gutter.
Lots of muck. We really should have opted for the gutter guards when we had these new gutters installed last summer. But no signs of a nest.
Then I noticed where the sparrow always seemed to go when it was most agitated: the kitchen fan vent on the side of our neighbors’ house. The vent has three large louvers, with an opening that is definitely large enough for a small sparrow to fit in. But not large enough for a plump, ready-to-lay-eggs sparrow.
Now I think I understand why the sparrow is so agitated. It built its nest inside the vent. Now it needs to get back in there to lay its eggs, and it can’t. I’m not an ornithologist, so that’s just a guess. Maybe it already laid the eggs in there, and it’s gone out and fattened itself up for an extended period of incubation. Either way, it seems desperate to get into a space it can’t physically fit into, and is freaking out about it. Sparrows are not the smartest birds.
We’ve had run-ins with sparrows before. A decade ago, when I was renting a small storefront in our old neighborhood as an office for my web development business — back when I thought having employees and an office were things I wanted — a sparrow built its nest in the store’s awning. The chirping was incessant, as was the… uh… window washing.
Assured that the sparrow’s problems, poor thing, were not also about to become my own as a homeowner, I put away the ladder. Then, about a half hour later, my wife informed me that there was a bat trapped inside our deck umbrella.
We’ve had run-ins with bats before, too. A few years before I started renting that storefront, we came home from a week of holiday travel to discover a bat in our closet. That turned out to be a full-blown infestation that required contracting a wildlife control expert to seal all of our exterior gaps and install “exclusions” to get rid of the bats.
I do not like bats.
I do appreciate bats. I know they serve an important role in the ecosystem. And I know that contrary to common misconception, most of them are not rabid. But you never know. That’s why, if you come into physical contact with a bat, you have to get rabies shots. Also the skin of their wings creeps me out.
So, while my primary objective was to get the bat to leave the umbrella, avoiding contact with the bat was a close second.
This bat most likely was not rabid. Yes, it was daytime, but the bat was sleeping inside the closed umbrella. Nonetheless, we wanted — needed — it to be gone. So I timidly opened the umbrella, and the bat woke up and flew in my general direction. It’s movements reminded me of the muppet bats that are always hovering around the Count on Sesame Street.
I recoiled and staggered backwards, trying to avoid it. I lost my balance and fell, hard, slamming my back, just to the left of my spine, on the vertical edge of our patio door. The pain was instant and overwhelming. I couldn’t breathe for about 20 seconds.
I called the triage nurse at my clinic, and was reassured that I probably didn’t need to come in for an X-ray. And I mean, even if I did break a rib, the only real course of treatment is time. That, and opioid painkillers I wouldn’t want to take anyway. So, I may have a broken rib. Or I may just be having ongoing back pain and muscle spasms. Either way, I haven’t slept in a bed, or much at all really, since Monday night. (It’s Thursday as I write this.)
I turned 50 a few months ago. Not “old,” but definitely not “young.” I’m in good health, running regularly (until this week, that is), and way more fit than my dad ever was… at least since his discharge from the army in 1964. But these past couple of days of pain and limited mobility have given me a greater understanding of what he was going through in the final months of his life, last summer. He had fallen too, and broken ribs. He had been on blood thinning medication for decades, so his entire torso was one giant bruise. He refused to go to the hospital.
He fell a few more times. A year ago this week, while my sister-in-law was visiting us, I got a call from my dad’s cell phone. The voice on the other end wasn’t his, but that of an EMT, who informed me he was in my dad’s apartment. He had fallen in the bathroom, and was on the floor for hours before he managed to drag himself to his bedroom, reach for his phone and call 911.
He spent a week in the hospital. After that we moved him from his apartment in Rochester — the apartment my mom had only gotten to spend a couple of months in, the previous summer, before her cancer led to a hospitalization she never came home from — into an assisted living facility in a Minneapolis suburb, so we could see him more regularly. It was pretty much a steady decline for the next three months.
A couple of weeks after we moved him in, he had us buy him a lift chair. I had no intention of keeping it after he was gone. But I’ve wished the past couple of nights that I had it. We don’t even own a recliner. I’ve been sleeping awkwardly in an armchair with my legs up on an ottoman and a pillow behind my back. It’s not great.
What does this all have to do with the sparrow? Maybe not much. But I’m just thinking about the simultaneous fragility and resilience of life, and the ways that our poor choices can come back to haunt us.
Also, I think the sound of an agitated sparrow is probably going to trigger a Pavlovian response of back spasms and visions of bats flying at my face for the rest of my life.
Postscript: About an hour after I wrote this, my daughter noticed there was a wild turkey sitting on our fence, then it jumped to our neighbors’ garage roof. The wildlife adventures continue.
