I Should Rename This Blog

The Carrion Chronicles might be appropriate, since there does seem to be somthing of a pattern here. Whether the pattern is mine or the neighbors', you can decide. Here are some nice calves some kind person delivered to my land. A gift for the dogs, maybe?

Pretty, Shiny, Wet

On the Banks of the Mighty Nemadji . . .

. . . winter ice finally gives way as the mighty N races north towards the big lake.

The Kettle Heats Up

As the Spring sun warms a Kettle River flood plain, the thin layer of ice that stands two feet above the ground breaks and crashes to the forest floor. It's LOUD.




Eight hours after these pictures were taken there was nothing left but wet leaves and mud.

Merle

The story of Merle is the story of my life. Short version: Subzero night. Tiny plaintive animal noise. Attempts to ignore tiny plaintive animal noise fail. This guy is completely loveable. He clearly had a home once (maybe still does - we're looking). You can tell by how affectionate he is with people, and by the fact that he is 100% litterbox trained. He's easy. I was surprised by how quickly he adapted to a new environment, and in fact, if this environment did not include dogs (which he hates) and travel (which every cat hates) I would not be seeking a home for Merle.

Merle greets the dogs

Sax-Zim Winter Birding Festival Part III-The Payoff

I am not a fanatic birder. I don't keep records and the fact that one species of gull has a bill that's a milimeter longer and slightly more downturned than that of its otherwise identical cousin is information that's kind of lost on me. That said, the birds pictured here are "lifers" and I was, and still am, so happy and excited that I got to see them and the many other birds (gulls included) I saw during the festival. So thank you to the fantastic guides and to all who worked so hard to make this weekend happen. It was just great.
White-winged Crossbill


Northern Hawk Owl

Sax-Zim Winter Birding Festival Part II

It was around zero degrees when the bus pulled away from the Meadowlands Community Center, and as the breath of a couple dozen birders condensed on the cold windows it became apparent that we would need every one of our multiple layers of clothing. If we wanted to see birds we were going to have to ride around all day with the windows open. We were too excited by the promise of owls to mind much.
The bog is an amazing place - hundreds of ruler-flat acres of black spruce and tamarack and sedges. I'm guessing it looks pretty much the way it did a couple hundred years ago, there being more exploitable land so close at hand. Here and there around the perimeter are farms, or more often remnants of farms.

Sax-Zim Winter Birding Festival Part I

So there we are, 25 senior-ish citizens plus a couple of kids in their twenties whose presence and whose passion for nature reassures this old crank that there just might be hope for the world after all. We are equipped with binoculars, cameras, spotting scopes, tripods, field guides and checklists. We are on a school bus in the freezing Minnesota pre-dawn. The bus driver says, "I have to keep the heater set on 'low'. Otherwise the blower shuts down." We don't care. We're tough. We dress in layers. We are going on a field trip.

Boom Shek a Lek a Lek a . . .

This is a picture of a farm field in Aitkin County. You can see that in the field are a number of grayish lumps. Rocks? Clods of dirt? Frozen souveniers of the cattle that were pastured here last summer? Nope. Birds. Sharp-tailed grouse to be exact, gathered here in the middle of February to engage in what my biologist neighbor suggested is probably some sort of pre-mating behavior. Their actual mating behavior normally occurs some weeks further along in the season. That's when these boys will practice the art of seduction by hooting and hollering and stomping and inflating parts of themselves in a crazy and beautiful effort to pass their sharp-tailed genes along to a new generation of dancing birds.

I've Said it a Million Times . . .

I HATE WINTER.
I don't, though, as it turns out. Moonlit nights so cold it hurts to breathe, but a suggestion of wood smoke in the air keeps you sniffing like a beagle anyway and the frozen river's a highway. All you have to do is go out and walk on it. Out. Not in. Out.
Out is the key to winter.

Nemadji Bridge

According to the county transportation department, this bridge is toast. Within two years - sooner, if President Obama's stimulus package stimulates the county transportation department, a lovely little 1920s' work of art will be gone, replaced with goodness knows what. One of the reasons I fell in love with this place was the bridge. It's seen better days, true. A massive early repair erased some of its original grace. Ditto for the reflective signs that obscure its curved abutments. Yet it remains beautiful. I never tire of looking at it. I hope there is a way to persuade them to grant this beauty a stay of execution.



It doesn't look that bad . . .

Pine Siskins

The field guide describes them as, "gregarious little birds." They eat five pounds of food a day. They bully the other birds. Chickadees and nuthatches have mostly been driven from the feeders and even the blue jays hesitate before attempting to steal a seed from this pack of flying piranhas.
Cute, though.