BIG POTATO ONLINE

Cynical about life, serious about vegetables. Since '78.

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My walk along the Rhine was full of amazing bird encounters!

Mute swans, mallards, moorhens, mandarins, egyptian geese and canada geese — and that’s not even all of them. Check out the full story!

https://bigpotato.online/walk-along-the-rhine/

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Tips on how to prevent assaults!

I recently came across an incredibly useful guide on how to prevent assaults. Finally, something we all really need these days!

• Don’t slip drugs into people’s drinks to control their behavior.

• When you see someone walking alone, just leave them alone.

• If you stop to help someone with a broken car, remember not to assault them.

• When you’re in an elevator and someone else gets in – don’t assault that person.

• When you come across someone asleep, the safest option is not to assault them.

• Never sneak into someone’s house through an open door or window, don’t jump out from between parked cars – and don’t assault that person.

• Remember, people go to the laundry room to do laundry. Don’t try to assault someone who is alone there.

• If you can’t stop yourself from assaulting people, ask a friend to accompany you in public.

• Carry a whistle. If you’re afraid you might accidentally assault someone, blow it until someone comes to stop you.

• Don’t forget that honesty is the best policy. Don’t pretend to be a caring friend just to gain someone’s trust before assaulting them. Consider telling them your intentions – if you don’t, they might think you’re not planning an assault.

What’s really sad is that if I put these points on a small card and told some people to keep it in their wallet, it would likely work.

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Walnut shell bird feeder!

Amidst the junk content, ads, and artificial photos! See and do it yourself!

https://www.tiktok.com/@ogrodnik.grzegorz/video/7571885834492742934?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7561191572047529494

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[Werbung] Lange habe ich nach einer Creme gesucht, die mir bei der täglichen Regeneration nach dem Training hilft und Muskelverspannungen löst. Fisiocrem Cream Cannabis erwies sich als wirklich interessante Lösung. Schon nach der ersten Anwendung spürte ich ein angenehmes Entspannungsgefühl – die Creme zieht schnell ein, hinterlässt keinen Fettfilm und hat einen kühlend-wärmenden Effekt, der wohltuend auf müde Muskeln wirkt.

Pluspunkte verdient ihre Zusammensetzung: Hanfsamenöl, CBD, Arnika, Johanniskraut und Vanille – all diese Inhaltsstoffe sorgen gemeinsam dafür, dass das Produkt nicht nur entspannend wirkt, sondern auch die natürliche Regeneration unterstützt. Dadurch konnte ich die Einnahme von Schmerztabletten reduzieren, was für mich ein großer Pluspunkt ist.

Man sollte jedoch erwähnen, dass die Creme nicht für jeden geeignet ist. Menschen mit empfindlicher Haut könnten ein Brennen oder eine leichte Reizung verspüren – ich hatte selbst einen solchen Moment beim ersten Gebrauch, aber später gewöhnte sich die Haut daran. Es lohnt sich also, sie zunächst an einer kleinen Stelle zu testen.

Zusammenfassend: Fisiocrem Cream Cannabis ist ein Produkt, das sich hervorragend für körperlich aktive Menschen eignet, die auf der Suche nach natürlicher Unterstützung bei der Regeneration sind. Es verschafft eine schnelle Linderung, riecht frisch und belastet die Haut nicht. Es ist nicht perfekt für jeden, aber wenn du eine Alternative zu klassischen Schmerzsalben suchst, ist es definitiv einen Versuch wert!

[bigpotato-online]

Some of the most elegant robbers I've ever seen!

For years, my garden was a monoculture territory ruled by the great tit. They settled in, nested at my neighbor's, and ruled the feeder with an iron fist. I was convinced that another tit species would never appear. Until the last days of September.

A pair of blue tits suddenly showed up. I don't know where their nest is, but since then they come almost every day to elegantly rob my supplies of crushed nuts. And I must admit – they are some of the most elegant robbers I've ever seen!

The blue tit is a true lady. She has a lemon-yellow belly, and across her head is something resembling a little blue cap, with a tunic of the same color on her back. She looks like she just stepped out of a bird boutique.

My great tits, those territorial gangsters, try to chase them away from the feeder. The key word is – try. They do it so clumsily, as if they don't really feel like it. One threatening hop, and the blue tit doesn't even flinch. It's pure bird instinct, without any real malice. As if they're ticking off a duty – "okay, I tried, now back to eating". And I, with my morning coffee, watch this quiet backyard war.

And the blue tits? They don't care. They peck, they look around, and they pick the best bits.

One important note. Don't be fooled by their beauty. Under that blue-and-yellow appearance lies the instinct of a ruthless warrior. Blue tits can destroy the eggs of other birds if they compete for nesting sites. It's a strategy for eliminating rivals. Elegant, but ruthless.

Their memory and intelligence match that of the great tits. In autumn and winter, they hide seeds and dead insects in various spots, and thanks to their excellent memory, they find them even weeks later.

And this brings us to an absolutely brilliant fun fact. It turns out, scientists discovered that blue tits are bird snobs!

Research showed that they choose their partners based on the intensity of the blue color on their back and the top of their head. The deeper and purer the shade, the more attractive the male is. Why? Because the color intensity is linked to health and condition. It's an effect of feather structure and light reflection, and a stronger color indicates a good diet and lack of parasites. Males with more intense coloration have a better chance of finding a mate and raising offspring. Looks matter!

Additionally, blue tits see in ultraviolet light. What is just plain blue to us holds additional patterns and intensity for them. Adult males literally glow in UV, especially on their head and back.

So, looking at this pair in my garden now, I know these aren't just any random birds. These are aristocrats in blue tailcoats – a combination of cold efficiency and elegance. I feel honored by their visit. My backyard has just gained a new, exclusive level!

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Our oldest companion is back!

I’ve missed them. For years, I kept wondering where did all the sparrows go? They used to be everywhere, part of the city’s background noise. Those tiny, brown-grey fluffballs were just always there. Turns out I wasn’t the only one who noticed their disappearance. It’s a sad global trend — and yes, we humans are mostly to blame.

Concrete jungles and shiny glass buildings leave no space for nests. Add our obsession with perfect lawns and pesticide use, and suddenly there are no insects left for baby birds to eat. Not exactly a welcoming world for sparrows.

But this spring, something wonderful happened! A small group built a nest under the roof of a house I can see from my garden. I think there are five of them! I’m not sure if they all live together — it’s a bit far for my eyes — but it looks like a tiny sparrow commune. I spotted just one male with his classic black mask and tie. The rest are females or young ones, all soft, round, and adorably plain.

And what do these little fluffballs do? They make noise! They hop and chase each other through the trees and bushes like rowdy kids on a playground. Totally carefree. They love flying after other birds, just to keep them company. I’ve noticed they hang out mostly with great tits and wood pigeons. You could say they’re the social glue of the bird world.

Except for the shy male, they all visit my feeders several times a day. Not picky at all — sparrows eat pretty much anything they find. Sadly, they’re also on the menu for many predators: cats, dogs, snakes, foxes, birds of prey. Life as a sparrow isn’t exactly peaceful.

And here’s the heart of the story - house sparrows have lived alongside humans for around 10,000 years. They’re not just random neighbors — they’re woven into the fabric of our civilization. Where we go, they follow. Sometimes, that shared history takes strange and tragic turns.

Take the Great Chinese Famine in the late 1950s. The government decided sparrows were pests eating too much grain. So they ordered a mass extermination. Millions of people took to the streets to kill every sparrow they could find. And what happened? With no sparrows left, locusts and other crop-eating insects exploded in number. The damage to agriculture became one of the key factors in one of the worst famines in history. A brilliant plan, right? Trying to fix nature by removing a tiny, sociable bird led to disaster. That should be a lesson in humility for anyone who thinks they can improve nature by force.

So now, watching these noisy little fluffballs chasing each other around my garden, I feel not just joy — but respect. I’m glad they’re back!

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[Werbung] REWE Bio und vegan – Schweizer Tafel Weiße Crisp mit zartschmelzendem Bio-Nougat und knusprigen Reiscrispies! Ich bin kein Veganer, aber – WOW! So cremig, zart und gleichzeitig schön knusprig – einfach köstlich! Die Süße ist genau richtig, nicht zu stark, und der Geschmack bleibt lange im Mund. Wenn du weiße Schokolade liebst, ist es egal, ob du vegan bist oder nicht – ich kann sie nur empfehlen!

[bigpotato-online]

Meet the great tit!

The most common, largest, and let's not be afraid of the word – the smartest tit in Europe. It's their black-and-white head and yellow belly that color our bird feeders. At my place, for instance, they nest at my neighbor's, and their nest is perfectly visible from my terrace. They constantly fly through the large fig tree and dive onto all my feeders at practically any time of day!

But don't be fooled by their cute looks. These birds are born killers. While in summer they feed mainly on insects, their diet is extremely flexible. And here come the blood-curdling facts. It has been documented that in Poland and Hungary, great tits hunted hibernating bats! And across Europe, they occasionally attack other small birds to eat their brains. This isn't a Hollywood movie, it's ornithology. They are ruthless when they need to take care of themselves.

Their intelligence is legendary. In the 1920s in Britain, it was the great tits, one after another, that discovered how to pierce the foil caps on milk bottles left by milkmen on doorsteps. This was no accident; it was the essence of avian innovation, passed down from generation to generation. They are extremely clever and have perfectly adapted to life in our gardens.

As for their favorite menu, my observations confirm they go for calories and protein. They love shelled sunflower seeds and crushed nuts, so I keep them supplied. It's an investment in securing the best wildlife show under the sun.

And if we reach into folk beliefs, it turns out these birds weren't always just a pretty sight. In Slavic folklore, encountering a great tit was commonly considered a sign of good news and prosperity. This little bird was believed to bring luck for the entire day. On the other hand, English folklore held the belief that loud, numerous chirps from tits in the autumn foretold a harsh winter ahead, a warning these birds were said to bring to people.

I adore them and I feel truly honored to be able to share my garden with them – although they probably consider it exclusively their own private, perfectly managed territory.

You can read more about great tits on my blog:

https://bigpotato.online/no-bottle-of-milk-was-safe/

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Our hero today is a guy you might have seen a million times.

It's the European robin – a small, common bird from Europe with the makings of a real star. In 2015, the British officially nominated it as their national bird. It's widely known and associated with Great Britain, where it often appears on Christmas cards.

The robin is not just a born model. It's also a vocalist. Its lyrical song not only brightens the day but also has a practical function – it lets other robins know where its territory ends. In terms of appearance, the male and female are identical – both sport the same elegant orange breast. The young lack this trademark feature, which, as it turns out, has a hidden purpose.

Robins are omnivores. Instead of digging in the ground, they prefer to hunt – they watch for prey from a branch, then dive down to catch insects in mid-air.

When it comes to nests, the robin is a master of improvisation. You can find one in a tree hollow, but just as easily in an old shoe, under the hood of a scrapped car, or between bricks. It uses mostly dry leaves for construction. The female incubates the eggs alone for two weeks, while the male is in charge of gathering food.

And this is where we get to the dark side of the robin's nature. They are territorial gangsters, ready for war. The male aggressively patrols his borders, and an intrusion by a rival can end in a fight to the death. He recognizes enemies by their orange breast. And here lies the brilliant explanation why the young lack this color. It allows them to stay safely on their parents' territory because they don't look like competition!

And if we were to look back at Norse legends, we'd find that this little bird was a companion to Thor himself – the god of thunder, storms, and fire. Moreover, according to their beliefs, it was the robins who brought fire from the heavens to the people, as a gift from the gods. Not bad for such a little guy, right?

[bigpotato-online]

Don't mourn the dead. Throw them a party!

Imagine the standard scene after your death. Loved ones light sad candles, lay down depressing flowers, and whisper quietly as if they're afraid to wake you up. A classic. Respect through solemnity.

Now, take a look at Mexico and their Día de Muertos, deliberately scheduled in the calendar for November 1st and 2nd, right next to the Catholic All Saints' Day. Here, the logic is completely different, and therefore brilliant in its simplicity. Mexicans believe that death is a natural part of life, and the souls of the dead return home for one day to visit us.

So ask yourself: when a long-lost, beloved guest comes to your home, what do you do? Cry in the corner? No. You throw them a welcome party!

That's why instead of quiet sighs, they set up colorful altars, and the table groans under the weight of the deceased's favorite food and drinks. Families have picnics on graves, with the joyful music of mariachi playing in the background. Death is not a taboo subject to be rejected here – it's a reason for celebration. This isn't a funeral; it's a family reunion where someone, unfortunately, is permanently late.

The biggest paradox? Although the holiday was deliberately overlaid onto a Catholic date, instead of Catholic contemplation, we have a purely pre-Columbian custom of having a blast with the dead! The Church sewed on its label, but underneath, the old, indigenous soul still buzzes, one that treats death like an older, somewhat grim, but respected aunt at a family gathering.

And the most important figure in this whole commotion isn't a saint, but an elegant lady. Or more precisely – her skeleton. La Catrina. This distinguished, bony lady with a hat from the early 20th century has become an icon. With an ironic smile, she reminds us that beneath the layers of status, wealth, and ego, we all end up the same. In the face of death, we are all equal.

You have to admit, the Mexican version seems much more pleasant for the spirit!

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Remember, birds are more delicate than we think. By feeding them, we take on a responsibility. A hungry bird will eat almost anything, but the wrong food can do more harm than hunger. So, if you want a clear conscience, keep these items far away from the feeder:

• Salt and salty products are the number one killer! Salt is toxic to birds because they can't excrete it. This includes salted peanuts and bacon fat.

• Bread may seem convenient, but it's just empty calories. It molds and ferments in the crop, leading to serious illness. Soaked and frozen bread is completely useless to birds.

• Raw barley, groats, and rice swell in the digestive tract after contact with water, potentially causing severe digestive issues.

• Wet, spoiled, or moldy sunflower seeds or other grains are a direct path to disease and infection.

• Hydrogenated fats are artificial and hard to digest. Choose natural fats like unsalted suet or pure peanut butter without additives or stabilizers.

• Milk. Birds can't digest lactose, so even small amounts can be harmful.

• Xylitol, or E967 is extremely dangerous — deadly to birds and many other animals. Always check the label!

Feed wisely, with heart and knowledge. That way, your feeder will truly be a safe and valuable haven.

https://bigpotato.online/bird-buffet-how-and-why-i-feed-birds-in-my-tiny-garden/

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Pagan traditions stolen by the church. Lighting the way for ancestral spirits!

Have you ever wondered why, on All Saints' Day, we mass-buy entire aisles of grave candles in supermarkets, creating a veritable sea of light in cemeteries? It's a beautiful custom, but its roots are much older and more pragmatic than one might think.

Let's go back to the times of the Celtic Samhain. On that one, special night, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became as thin as tissue paper. The Celts didn't mess around. They extinguished all domestic hearths and then lit one, massive, communal bonfire. This ritual had two goals, brilliant in their simplicity: to scare away demons that could invade the empty homes, and to light the way for ancestral spirits so they wouldn't get lost and would find their place in the world of the dead.

The next day, everyone would take embers from this sacred bonfire to relight their home hearth. This wasn't just symbolism – it was a practical transfer of safety and the continuity of life from the heart of the community to every single home.

And then the Church appeared. It faced a classic problem: how to supplant a deeply rooted pagan tradition? Banning it was asking for a rebellion. The clever solution was different: don't fight it, take it over. And so, All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day were placed in the calendar exactly where Samhain was. Strategic rebranding.

The paradox? The symbolic light survived! Today, instead of lighting one powerful bonfire at the crossroads, every cemetery is illuminated by thousands of small, separate flames on the graves. Instead of a shared ember – a sea of little lights for each individual.

Next time you light a grave candle, think that you are actually keeping the flame alive, continuing a tradition from thousands of years ago. Only now you're paying for it at the supermarket.

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Cake or Celtic curse. Your cow. Your choice!

Do you think "Trick or Treat" is innocent fun? It's nothing more than medieval blackmail in a pretty package.

A long, long time ago, there was a very practical custom of visiting souls. Poorer people and children would go from door to door, offering a special service: prayers for deceased family members. Payable in advance – naturally – most often in the form of so-called "soul cakes."

Food in exchange for salvation – could anything be more pragmatic? "Sir, give me a cake, and I'll pray that your mother-in-law doesn't return from the afterlife!"

The tradition evolved, and its purest form survived in Ireland and Scotland. There, around Halloween, costumed performers would visit houses and put on short plays, dances, or recitations, after which – of course – they expected payment. And if they didn't get it? Then the tricks would begin. And it wasn't about throwing toilet paper around the garden, but the threat of placing a Celtic curse on your house, your barn, or – even worse – your cow.

So when you open your door today and hand candy to a little Spider-Man or Princess Elsa, you're not actually taking part in a sweet game. You're paying a ransom. You're buying off the vengeance of ancient spirits. It's not a nice gesture – it's a transaction in defense of your own porch against mystical retribution.

The true tradition has survived. Only the stakes have dropped a bit. And the curse? Well, now it manifests as trash scattered in front of your house. Progress!

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She's alive. She has a cat. Burn her.

Long, long ago, when medicine was more magical than effective, people had a simple way to identify a witch – if she didn't die of the plague, it meant she had a deal with the devil. Logical, right?

So, who survived most often? Those who had a cat at home. Cats scared away rats. Rats carried fleas, and fleas carried the plague. But your average medieval neighbour didn't know epidemiology. He only knew one thing: "She's alive. She has a cat. Burn her."

And so, cats ended up on the blacklist. Literally. Especially black cats. The Church declared them pagan creatures and officially condemned. The number of cats dwindled, the plague spread, people died. Bravo, logic!

Today, cats are still a symbol of witches, Halloween, and independence!

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Jack O'Lantern. The first pumpkin was a turnip!

On a frosty, damp night, somewhere on the desolate moors of Ireland, there lived a man named Jack. He was not a good man, helpful, or even averagely noble. Jack was a drunkard, a swindler, and a scoundrel, around whom you had to guard not only your purse but also – as it would soon turn out – your own immortal soul. His life, full of cheap whiskey and cheap deceptions, was, however, about to change drastically.

One evening, as Jack was drowning his sorrows in his favourite tavern, the Devil himself knocked on the door. Perhaps he was tired of waiting, or maybe he simply decided that Jack's soul was ready for the taking. As soon as Jack laid eyes on the grim visitor, he understood that the end of his revelry had come. But instead of falling to his knees and begging for mercy, this cunning Irishman came up with an idea. Brilliant? Absurd? Decidedly the latter, but as it turned out, it worked.

"Since you're already here," said Jack, pretending to be unfazed, "allow me to buy you one last drink before we embark on that long, eternal journey." The Devil, surprised by such hospitality – or perhaps he too didn't scorn a free tipple – agreed. Later, as they were leaving the tavern, Jack pointed to an old apple tree growing nearby, laden with ripe fruit. "Before I go," he continued with feigned humility, "my last wish is to taste one, single juicy apple from the very top of that tree. Would you be so kind as to pick it for me?"

The Devil, confident in his power, shrugged and climbed the tree. As soon as he found himself on the highest branch, reaching for the fruit, Jack acted with a speed no one would have suspected him of. Using the knife he always carried on his belt, he carved a deep sign of the cross into the tree's bark.

Dude, just jump! – someone might have shouted. But no. It turned out that the cross worked on the Devil like mosquito repellent. It immobilized him more effectively than the hardest Irish whiskey. The Devil was stuck!

Then Jack began to negotiate. "I'll free you," he announced, "on one condition. You promise you will never take my soul." The Devil, humiliated and probably already regretting this whole soul-collecting career, had no choice. He swore he would never take Jack's soul. And only then did the latter scrape the cross off the bark, freeing his prisoner.

Imagine how much flak the devil gets back home for this. Picture Beelzebub and Mephistopheles hanging out by the fiery water cooler after a hard day of data entry—because there's a ton of data to input in Hell, someone has to catalogue it all—saying, 'Did you hear about the Devil who got stuck in an apple tree? Why didn't the guy just jump?'. Social advancement in hell after this incident was pretty much impossible for our Devil.

The years passed, and Jack finally died. Because unfortunately, even his time came. His soul, light on sins but heavy from whiskey, wandered to the gates of heaven. But St. Peter, after glancing at his resume, simply shook his head with pity. "No way, Jack. There's no place for you here!"

I think Jack's plan had a few fundamental flaws. It relied entirely on the Devil keeping his word, but he didn't think about what to do when both sides rejected his application.

Dejected, Jack went to the gates of hell. But our Devil, grinning from ear to ear, kept his promise. "A deal's a deal, Jack," he said, blocking his path. "We don't want your soul here." However, in an act of unexpected, though sarcastic hospitality, he reached deep into the infernal flames, pulled out a glowing ember, and tossed it to Jack. "Take this. Let it light your way on your eternal wandering."

Oh, that's almost kind. Wait – how does he catch this ember? Did he get an infernal glove too? Or was his soul just so numbed after years of drinking that he felt no pain? This remains one of the great unsolved mysteries of theology.

Jack, no fool, though short-sighted, had to find a way to carry his only source of light. He looked around and saw a turnip lying nearby. He hollowed it out, placed the infernal ember inside, and from then on, as Jack O'Lantern, he was condemned to wander the earth for eternity. With a hollowed-out turnip in his hand, its glow meant to ward off the darkness and show the way.

And that is why today people carve pumpkins, and in Ireland, turnips are still popular, to ward off spirits like Jack, the wandering will-o'-the-wisps. And also because nobody really knows what else to do with pumpkins. Don't tell me they're good for pie. I've seen people baking pumpkin pies. Pumpkin pies are made from canned goo. It's a fact.

And so, the Irish lad who outsmarted the Devil himself was immortalized in a vegetable that most of us consider seasonal decor. And that's probably the funniest ending he could have hoped for. So next time you light a candle inside a pumpkin, think of Jack. The nasty, clever rogue who, through his bargaining, turned into a folk warning and an eternal wanderer with a vegetable lantern.

I wish you all a Happy Halloween! And remember – if you ever meet the devil, don't ask him to climb a tree. It's undignified.

[bigpotato-online]

So, what's my signature dish?

It's NOT a breaded pork chop with potatoes and salad! Find out what it is on the blog!

https://bigpotato.online/so-whats-my-signature-dish/

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A friendly reminder: clean and store those tools!

Time to tuck your garden in for winter and preserve your own sanity while you're at it. Want the full, simple plan? Read on!

https://bigpotato.online/get-your-garden-ready-for-winter-and-hang-on-to-your-last-remaining-sanity/