Avian Life

Finally, a lovely day with real, honest to goodness sun.  A good day to drive over to Van Patten Road. 

Gary and I count the days of a season by the wildlife that flits through them.  Today, we found the blue-winged teal had flown into the marshes beside the road.  They'll stick around through the summer and with luck, will escape the fall duck hunters.   

The yellow-headed blackbirds were back, early for them, though their red-winged brethren have been around for a least three weeks.  It is not a good survival strategy, this arriving late.  By the time the blonds show up the best nesting sites have been taken.  

Finally, there was the ruddy duck.  This little guy's spiky, upright tail is a dead giveaway.  They are one of the cutest additions to my annual bird list.  

I wondered why they're called ruddy ducks.  Gary suggested that the first person who saw one was an Englishman who blurted out, "It's a ruddy duck!"  He's such a fount of knowledge, that man.    

Next we went over to check out the eagle's nest on Kringle Road.  No one can get close to the tree they use, it's set in a watery swamp, but using binoculars, we could see the two eagles watching their nest from an adjacent tree, then one of them flew over to the nest.  We assume that the chicks have already hatched.  We'll  look in on them from time to time.  

The Library Book Sale

"Let books be your dining table, and you shall be full of delights.
Let them be your mattress and you shall sleep restful nights."
                                -- St. Ephrem the Syrian  (303-373 AD)

The Friends of the Muehl Public Library in Seymour are holding their annual spring book sale.  My job is to count the books and charge the customers.  With Easter Sunday approaching, people are coming in to buy books for their children's baskets.  What a clever idea for those with low incomes.

Paperback books are twenty five cents, hardcovers fifty cents. There are videos, audios and DVDs for the low price of $1 each.  There's a bake sale as well.  Colette, who runs an Anime film series for the teenagers, brought Japanese bakery shaped like fish.  I don't know what it's called but it's delicious.

In these days of budget cuts, the work of volunteers is absolutely essential.  In addition to the book sales, the Friends sell candy bars, hold raffles, and hold a yearly wine tasting event in November.  With the money earned, they decorate the library, host movie nights, bring in authors, and help with the children's summer reading program.

I volunteer some hours for the sales and put up posters around town -- though they forgot to ask me this time around and I'm afraid the sale is not being well attended.

Any money earned is helpful when local and state taxes are being cut.  There's a poster I saw in Madison that said "Cutting library services during bad economic times is like closing hospitals during a plague."  Here at our little library struggling people can learn how to use computers, how to write resumes, how to search the internet for possible jobs.  They can open a free e-mail accounts and use them in their queries.

A library is an excellent civic service, well worth our tax money.  I'm glad to help out.

The Brown Headed Cowbird

Yesterday there was a cowbird at our deck feeder. When the cowbirds arrive, we know the robins are nesting.  Those brood parasites come flying in to lay their eggs in robin nests, then they skedaddle, leaving the others to hatch their eggs.  Cowbirds often lay a dozen in various nests (including other species besides robins) during the season.  The cowbird chicks are bigger and more voracious than their foster siblings.  Eventually they push them out.  The frantic foster parents work to raise that last ugly baby.

Many birders find the cowbirds nasty.  Some make a point of destroying their eggs when they run across them.  Me, I don't much mind.  This is a system that works well for that species.  It certainly has done the robins no harm.   These days, humans have surrogate parents, so why criticize cowbirds?

There is a morality that humans try to attach to critters.  Once I was training our Australian shepherd by rewarding him for good behavior with treats.  My mother pointed out that he was getting rewarded for good behavior and that instead, he should be punished when he was bad.

"He's not a Lutheran," I told her.  "He's not going to Heaven, according to the church so why not reward him on earth."   My training system worked.  

The cowbirds aren't Christian either.  I leave them alone.

Spring Comes Back

Yesterday over nine inches of snow were dumped on Wisconsin, covering my gardens.

Today, the snow is rapidly melting.  The sound of water slipping off roofs is like the sound of a rushing river, making me think of the days of summer camping.

And in my garden, the daffodils, covered completely last night, are already lifting their heads, ready to bloom in the days ahead.

White Easter

Up to eight inches of snow will be dumped on northeast Wisconsin by tomorrow night.  As it falls, Gary sings, "I'm dreaming of a white Easter."  This is not a good thing to do to someone who has been aching to get into her garden.  Just before the snow started, I went out and picked the first three daffodils.  They are now here in my office, the only spring I'll have for a while.

Lifeguards

The lifeguards at the aquatic center are an interesting bunch of kids. Because I select odd hours, I am often the only person in the water.   While I do aerobic exercises to work out kinks in my knee I chat with the guards.  Exercise is boring but conversation makes it less so.  Some of them are still in high school.  I know many of their teachers so we talk about their classes.  We talk about their college plans and I give them tips about applying for universities and scholarships.

Others are already in college.  With one, I discuss economic theory, with another philosophy.  How amusing to discuss Aristotle or Hegel while I am paddling in a pool!  Politics are a rousing topic.  Some know exactly where they are going, others are still searching out paths.

I tell them about my work in the forests, trying to get them to explore nature, to have experiences  beyond what a small town can offer.  This week, I told them about the work of the International Crane Foundation in Baraboo who are bringing the whooping crane back from extinction.   Maybe in another year, I'll convince one or two of them to join me on a crane count.

One of them wants to be a writer.  We have that in common.  Most of them want to travel.

What adventures lie ahead if they open their minds to the possibilities!

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.

Annual Midwest Crane Count

It was 3:15 a.m. when the alarm went off.  I looked out the window to see rain sheeting but short of a blizzard, we crane counters are expected to show up.

My clothes were all laid out, so I dressed quickly and went downstairs, but I was still sleepy and drank two cups of tea before I remembered I should have laid off liquids. There would be no place to pee until almost 8:00.  I packed the essentials:  a piece of fruit, a granola bar, binoculars, clipboard, pencils and the crane count paperwork.  I threw on my orange hat and winter coat.  Turkey hunting season begins today and there's no point in taking a chance. Liquids be damned, I made a cappuccino to go.

Gary pulled himself out of bed and moved his van so I could get my car out.  He went back to bed.  Rascal Cat never stirred.  His internal alarm clock was working just fine, thank you.

We had worked out the route two days before. In the dark and rain, I drove Highway G west to Highway 47 north to Highway F west to Highway I south to Highway XX west to Maple Grove and there I was at site 13. I never saw another vehicle all the way.

At 5:00 a.m., I was early by half an hour, so I amused myself with a sudoku puzzle by flashlight.  Then it was 5:30, time to count. On a good spring morning, I would be outside, but the rain didn't allow that. Lights off, the windows cracked open, I listened.

The robins were awake, of course.  Next to rouse themselves were the red-winged blackbirds.  Whrrrrrr.  They were followed by sparrows, then crows.  The three houses in the lane were dark. Nothing going on there.

Finally at 5:56, I heard the unmistakable sound of sandhill cranes waking up, but it didn't do me any good, they were far away to the south, outside of my site.  We are only to count what is in the boundaries.  So I listened and watched. When the rain let up and became a mist, I walked outside for a while, but all I spotted was a red-tailed hawk.

At 6:30, I started the car and drove the two miles to the north side of site 13.  There was nothing going on at the Embarrass River so I turned around and parked beside the road, still Highway XX.  All the roads had narrow verges and deep drops into ditches, so when I could see a car coming, I turned on the lights to avoid a crash. Raindrops sparkled on the brush and wire fencing.

In the distance, I could hear the honking of hundreds of Canada geese and from time to time, a flock took off.

Finally, three cranes flew over a field.  One landed and strolled around.  And that was the end of my count.

At 7:30, I packed it in and drove to New London and the Mosquito Hill Nature Center where I turned in my little report.  I talked to Steve, the naturalist, who had the primo uno site, a perfect crane marsh, one I've counted twice.  His form showed 75 cranes.  But I'm not jealous.  Well, not much.

We counters drank coffee, tea and juice, toasted up some bagels and talked about birding around the world. I got advice on birding the Bear River preserve in Utah.

Then I came home, just as Gary was getting out of bed.

The Pasque Flower

Just in time, the Pasque (or Easter) flower is blooming in my back yard.

Gary, who is a botanist, had his doubts about it because it didn't fit the description in his wildflower book and though I remembered planting it, I couldn't remember where it came from.  Was it from a greenhouse with exotic plants that is now defunct?  Was it from Dan, the city's handman/gardener/birder?  Was it from Lois, who often gave me plants? She died last year so I couldn't ask her.  Finally, I thought about Kim, the librarian who likes rare species.

We stopped at the library where she was working this afternoon.  Yes, she said, that's a pasque flower and she gave me a plant two or three years ago. She is jealous.  Her garden in the country is not as well protected as mine, so her pasque flower is not yet blooming.  

This Easter flower grows wild in South Dakota so is the state flower there.   It is a species that grows well in the tundra so it does well in cold weather.

I was delighted to see yet another flower to join the others.  The hyacinths started to bloom today and by tomorrow, there will be daffodils.  It is cold and windy here in Seymour, but spring pushes on.

Camping Gear

This morning, Gary brought my camping gear out of storage. There isn't much.  All I need is a small tent, two sleeping bags (one for cold weather, one for hot weather), a pillow, and a self-inflating air mattress.  There's a plastic crate that contains a one burner camp stove, a set of collapsible aluminum pans, a flashlight, matches, one plate, a set of utensils, a cup and a glass.

We have to test the air mattress and the tent for leaks and wash my cooking gear.

More important, and probably more expensive, is a total checkup of my car, the Mercury Sable station wagon.  I know the spark plugs need changing, and there will be a few other things, according to the mechanic.  It's a bigger car than I bought in the past, and in some ways it's a pain, especially when it comes to parking, but in a pinch, I can sleep in it.  

On April 30, there's a $5 bag sale at the Appleton St. Vincent de Paul store.  My clever daughter-in-law Tisha will be there to help me choose more clothes to take along.  I like buying things that way because if some clothes item doesn't work out, I can simply drop it off along the way, preferably at another re-sale store.

So bit by bit, I am preparing for the adventure.