Hawk on Roxton

Hawk with Prey

Red-tailed hawk numbers have increased in Toronto over the past two decades. Some say that what draws them into urban areas is the fact that they gravitate toward open spaces like airports to catch prey in open grassy areas where the infrastructure offers conveniently high perching stations.

On Saturday morning, at the North East corner of Roxton and Bloor, Ronald, a.k.a. Johnson, a.k.a Pants, a.k.a. Ronny spotted a hawk on the roof of Coffee Time while having his morning fix at Saving Gigi.

"Holy shit, that is a hawk," Ronald exclaimed to the company on the café patio who consisted of Blossington Post writer, DmD, and Newfauch.

The threesome starred in honoured silence as the hawk stood stoic and still, posture like a Spartan leader overlooking his Blossington kingdom. Some time passed when suddenly the predator leapt from its rooftop perch before swooping down and catching an expendable pigeon in mid-flight.

From the patio parameters several holy-shits escaped the mouths of all three excited witnesses.

Victorious with its soon-to-be-food clutched firmly in its talons, the hawk quickly disappeared within the trees that line the asphalt on the residential street, Roxton.

Several passerbys asked what all the excitement was about. And one lady lamented that her son was not around to have witnessed the glory.

"He loves hawks," she said. "He would have loved to see a hawk in our neighbourhood. Wow, can you believe it?"

To answer your question lady, "Yes, it is totally believable. Anything is possible in Bloorcourt."

Hopefully, this hawk decides to keep permanent residence in our hood. There are numerous benefits. First of all, the lady’s son may get to see it; thus like make a wish foundation, a Blossington boy’s dream will come to fruition. Plus, the hawk can act as a caretaker, decreasing plops of poo on people’s heads vis-a-vis annihilation of pigeons. But also, finding a mascot and team name for our hypothetical, bad ass sports team would be easy: The Blossington Hawks. Pretty original, eh?

Photo by Glenn Nevill

Bye Bye Biker Choppers

Jeff-co with Choppers...only a few days ago0000

Blossington’s favourite cyclist, Jeff, a.k.a. Jeff-co, a.k.a Ferguson, a.k.a. Chubaka has shaved off his choppers. This comes as a shock to community members who've adored his adornment for years.

But, in his self declared “ripe old age of 37,” Jeff is looking to decrease years. Well Jeff-co, we can’t turn back time (Go ask Cher!) but we salute your success in taking about ten years off your appearance. Cheers buddy.

Ferguson, now shaven, talks about the differences

When we asked Ferguson about how it feels to be free from choppers, he said, "Well my hearing has increased ten-fold. It's so windy! I can hear now."

Not only does he look younger, but he feels younger too, I guess? Isn't it a common phenomenon that people lose their hearing as they age?

Neighbourhood folk wonder about the possibilities now that Jeff's reclaimed his acoustic senses. Will he return to playing drums like he did in The Spigots, the hard-core punk band of his youth? Blossington Post keeps their fingers for a "yes."

But Jeff-co says shaving his choppers has not been all goodness and yummies. "It's somewhat of a sad moment in my life," he said. "It's like cheerleading, but different. True story."

Jeff-co chose to speak off the record about the connection between cheerleading and his clean shaven face. We ask that you trust in embedded truths and apologize that we cannot clarify how the two things are, in fact, very much related. Once a good punk-scout, always a good punk-scout. Oye!

(All photos by DmD)

Butt of Santa's Parade

Hardly X-Mas; the sign says it all

This weekend Toronto celebrated the 105th annual Santa Clause Parade. Blossington doesn’t get mentioned though we represent an essential part of the event – the ass-end. Neighbourhood kids get to see Santa immediately. There’s no tease, no tickle, no Here Comes Santa Claus because his float is already at our doorstep.

The last float waits to move on from Bloor and Ossington

The apex of an event quickly loses its appeal without the surrounding moments that create incremental anticipation. At Bloor and Ossington, the grand finale is presented right away. Without points of reference, Santa arriving (well hardly arriving since he’s already here) on his float cannot be an elevated happenstance; essentially, there’s no climax. Surely there’s a reason people tend not to watch movies backward.

Newfauch watches Santa Claus Parade on Television

Reporting live from Bloor and Ossington, we asked a neighbourhood staple, Derrick Dean, a.k.a. Newfie, a.k.a. Newfauch, a.ka. The Blossington Bully about his sentiments on the Santa Clause Parade. He said, “come inside, and let’s watch the parade on the t.v.” It would certainly give a better, more complete picture of the event than being exposed to just the tail end for hours before commencement. Still, somebody sarcastically snickered, “great thinking Newfie,” but Derrick’s wisdom was too profound for the proud commenter; he just couldn't grasp the entirty of what Newfie's insight offered.


(All photos by DmD)

Introducing the Bloor and Ossington-ish Area

Toronto is hailed for its multiculturalism. It’s a web of diverse neighbourhoods, containing colourful characters who experience mini-adventures in their day-to-day: man versus his environment, man versus man, and man versus himself. This blog pays tribute to survivors of Bloor and Ossington.

Heroes in economically depressed areas are overlooked by the masses, they are undermined by celebrities; they are ignored by magazine publications. But there are always local stars, neighbourhood folk who, like footprints embossed on still wet cement, mark Toronto sidewalks with uniqueness.

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This introductory post will pay homage to former stars of Blossington that were once great in our micro-world, but have passed on to another area of the city.

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On the corner of Roxton and Bloor lies a café, Saving Gigi. It is a fan-favorite for neighbourhood locals. Families, couples, business partners, solo-socialists, old and young come to Saving Gigi to enjoy good sandwiches and excellent coffee in a friendly, comfortable atmosphere.

Bloorcourt wasn't always that fortunate though. The café was once run with an iron fist, and a lot of potentially loyal customers were scared away. Many a disgruntled customer have only now begun to return to Saving Gigi and become frequenters. The original tyrannical co-owners sold about three months ago.

Along with Monica, the strictly-business minded owner of Saving Grace, Luigi, aka Gi, aka Lui, aka Lu, aka Coffee Nazi, used to terrorize desperate-for-good-chilling customers. Luigi and his business partner (and, *ahem* old lover. Ooops, guess I spilled the coffee beans) recently sold the café (it was a very hush-hush operation) to one of their former employees and her partner. Amelia and Kristjan - the new owners - are like the prom king and queen of Blossington now.

Luigi, once one of the greatest stars on Blossington stage, has moved out and onward opening yet another café, Rockabilly Rock around Davenport and Oakland. It was lonely at the top. The Bloorcourt tyrant, though harsh, will still be missed, mostly for his gossip generating antics.


Former owner of Saving Gigi, Luigi.

Another former cast member is LCBO-Ryan. Unlike Lui, everybody loved this guy. With his leather patched, tweed jacket and thick rimmed glasses, Ryan was like the moment before a first kiss for local alcoholics. In that brief moment between selecting booze, and the satisfaction of finally pressing your lips against the bottle (or can), Ryan was the perfect segue representing the transaction at the cash register.

He's been promoted to a bigger, nicer LCBO, and will be missed for entertaining us with his natural charm.


(from left to right LCBO-Ryan, LCBO-Ralph)

Blossington will also miss LCBO-Ralph's beard (seen above), which is no longer available. At least we still have the man behind the beard. LCBO-Ralph is great because, when sheltered behind locked glass doors, he repetitively yells, "You had all day!" to desperate alcoholics trying to squeeze into the store a minute after close.

(All photos by DmD)