Van Patten Road

For three days, we had rain, sleet and high winds.  I was stuck inside, other than the drive to count cranes in the rain yesterday and Sunday church services.  

Worse, the temperature in the Wolf River went down instead of up. That means that the female sturgeon have backed off on their spawning plans.  Gary and I were scheduled to guard tonight and tomorrow night, but our shifts were canceled.  Gary is going to Illinois to help his 90 year old aunt with her yard work, so it looks like we'll miss our yearly date with the giants.  It can't be helped, but I am not happy about it.

By today, I was badly out of sorts, grumpy and complaining.  Church was so-so, couldn't find any inspiration.  I came home to take a nap, but Rascal has his feline opinions.  My bed is his for napping in the afternoon.  He nudged me out.  Finally, I went to my sure mood cure for what ails me, Van Patten Road.

Van Patten is a mile long road between State Highway 54 and County Highway P, between Black Creek and Shiocton.  Both sides of the road are swampland, a mini Horicon Marsh, with the same migratory birds.  In the spring, the area is flooded.  This year, the water is lapping on the road, but it's still passable.

The first swans in our area come to Van Patten Road.  Here we spot the first red-winged blackbirds, and their competition, the yellow headed blackbird.  A variety of migratory water fowl stop there for a rest before heading  to Canada. In the fall, the process goes in reverse.  Even in the winter, we might find northern harriers scouting for foolish mice and voles.

Today, there were geese, scaup, grebes, coots and mallards, along with a red-tailed hawk, red-winged blackbirds, and a few gulls.  Best of all, the first flock of tree swallows arrived.  These aerial acrobats only come when the flying insects emerge.  They swoop around, passing each other by inches.  Gary claims he once saw two swallows collide, but I've never seen it and I've watched them for hours.  How do they do it with no air traffic controllers?

When I came home, the sun was out, the wind died down and my mood changed from dour to happy. I'd like to give the swallows credit for all three, but I suppose they can only claim responsibility for the latter.