Sometimes I Lie

I've been known to tell a tall tale but only when I'm asked for information that I'm not willing to give to a retailer.  When a cashier asks for my zip code when ringing up my order I'll make one up.  When a non-profit insists on getting my email when I make a donation and I don't want to get their spam I'll make one up.  Offspring #2 saw right through one of mine (youcantmakeme@msn.com).  If I must give a name to get the information I want on-line I'll make one up.  And I know they sell that information because now I'm getting calls at home for Theodore, for Esmerelda, and for Dr. Chi Khen.  I can see right through that and I've just been rewarded for telling a lie. 

Amaryllis in Blueberry

I read Amaryllis in Blueberry by Christina Meldrum.  This engaging story starts out in Michigan.  In this family with a mother and a father and four daughters, the youngest daughter, Yllis, is thought to be the odd one.  Yllis, short for Amaryllis, does look at life differently than most people and she does have synthesthesia (a condition where the senses are blended and she can see emotions in colors).  As the story progresses we see that Yllis is the mentally healthiest one in her family.  Things fall apart in a big way when the father makes the whole family move to west Africa.  The culture shock is hard but it uncovers the dysfunction this family has been hiding for years.  The mother of the family is very interested in Greek mythology and some of that went over my head but I did enjoy this story very much.

Depressed Canadian Goose

We have a new staff person at work and she's a hoot, or a honk.  She comes to me with bird observations or questions almost every day.  Last week she told me that she had stopped to look at a pair of Canadian geese who were lovingly swimming side by side every day on the same pond.  She stopped her car to admire their devotion.  Another person came by to see what she was looking at. She said she was admiring this devoted Canadian goose couple.  This other person pointed out that the geese she was admiring were decoys to keep real geese off the pond.  Hysterical story.   Today she was concerned about a depressed Canadian Goose.  She sees this depressed goose twice a day for the past week at Hanson Boulevard and Northdale Boulevard in Coon Rapids.  I ask her how she knows it's depressed?  She says it hangs it's head down and paces back and forth on the very edge of the road.  She's afraid some reckless or cruel driver will hit it with a car.  She is sure this goose is mourning the loss of it's mate.  She is sure almost all birds mate for life.  I tell her I'm not so sure about that.  Mallards for example definitely do not mate for life and some times engage in gang rapes.  Loons don't mate for life and a male loon will commit murder to mate the one he wants.  Red winged blackbird males boldly defend their territory from other males while the female lays a clutch of eggs with the DNA of several males.  So, no, most birds don't mate for life.  I tell her I'm not sure if Canadian geese mate for life or not.  She is very disappointed to hear this.  She was so sure this goose is depressed over the loss of it's mate.  I ask if she isn't assigning human emotions to Canadian geese.  She sure hopes not.  So I looked it up.  Canadian geese are monogamous.  I'll give her good word tomorrow.  I'm sure she'll be very happy.  Like I said, this new person at work is just a hoot honk.

Bird Song

whippoorwill

One of the best things about camping last weekend was listening to all the bird sounds at night and in the morning.  The first night we ate supper late. I think it was after 7 p.m.  When all was cleaned up I heard this sound and wondered, "What the heck IS that?"  The sound was almost mechanical in tone and timing.  It sounded like whip poor WILL!  Whip poor WILL!  My sister said, "Maybe it's a whippoorwill."  As soon as she said that I thought she had to be right.  She looked it up on her smart phone and played the sound.  She knows some birds but hasn't had the time or inclination to focus on them like I have.  I was amazed at her ability to figure that out so quickly.  The whippoorwill is a stunning bird to hear calling. It puts an incredible amount of energy into singing. I counted it calling it's own name 26 times in a row without stopping to take a breath.  I've read about whippoorwills in books and never imagined they sounded like that.  And I can see why people would write about such an amazing sounding night bird.  The whippoorwill is part of the nightjar family that includes nighthawks.  I've seen one night hawk and it laid horizontally on the branch just like the whippoorwill.  The whippoorwill will sit or lay on the ground all day.  They lay still until they're almost stepped on.  In the evening and in the early morning they hunt for insects and catch them on the fly.  Whippoorwills prefer a forest with an open understory.  They lay their eggs right on the forest floor.  if a predator comes near they will fake an injury just like killdeer will pretend to have a broken wing.  They nest all through out the state of Minnesota. Why have I never heard this bird before?  A friend of mine remembers hearing them in Andover in the 1970's but not recently.  The numbers of whippoorwills are decreasing to the point that they are a bird of least concern.  To hear their iconic sound go to:  http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/26/Antrostomus_vociferus_-_Eastern_Whip-poor-will_-_XC103418.ogg 

The northern mockingbird was also thrilling to hear.  It had a lot to say and so many different ways to say it. I giggled as I heard it say one thing, two things, and then 25 different things.  It sounded like at least 20 birds all at the same time.  This is another iconic sounding bird common in literature, poems, and songs (like in "Daddy's going to buy you a)."  And then the turkeys were gobbling back and forth from one part of the park to another.  A pair of Canadian geese were swimming about in the part of the forest that was flooded by the high water of the St. Croix river.  One took off and they verbally played Marco Polo until it flew around and returned to it's mate.  Ring necked pheasants sounded off in the woods.  I was glad that the mallards quacked as they flew up river because once you hear the mallard quack, you know  it's a mallard.  There is no need to bring the binoculars up to your eyes to check because only mallards quack.  Also the flooded woods I heard a common yellow throat calling. And once we got to the upper forest by the parking lot I heard the sound of a Eastern wood peewee.  The peewee is a sound that I memorized last year and forgot completely.  I had to listen to the sound of a dozen or more birds before I nailed it to the peewee.  Their call is a distinctive complaining tone that starts in the mid range, descends lower and rises back to mid range again - "pee-a-wee!"  There is so much to hear out in the woods.  When you are camping you don't have silly things like walls or windows or the sound of a water softener running between you and the lovely symphony of nature.

It Was a Hike

Nothing like a weekend spent in nature to replenish your senses and renew your spirituality.  The wonders we saw besides morel mushrooms were many turkey vultures, huge cottonwood trees, the pristine St. Croix river, my first whipporwill, my first northern mockingbird, turkeys, my first osprey of the year, scenic vistas of the Wisconsin side of the river bluffs, extremely nice weather, wildflowers blooming in the woods, great food, wild cherry trees beginning to bloom, and lots of campfires.

I think I must look like a pitiful pack mule here at the bottom of the hill.  In the next 5 minutes one kindly nephew takes the orange tent bag and a strange man took the tan bag and my orange lunch bag making it easier for me to walk the half mile to the parking lot.

Morels at Afton

It was a 3/4 hike from the parking lot to the campsite.  The last 1/4 mile was a very steep uphill slope.  Offspring #2 stopped to rest and look what she saw!  A morel!  Fungi right next to the path!

So I told everyone to keep their eyes out for morels.  We were foragers!

We opened up the morels to make sure the stems were hollow and bug free.  We chased out 3 bugs, rinsed them in water, and cooked them on the campfire in tinfoil with butter, salt and pepper.  Everybody had some.  All (but one) agreed they were delicious.  Our youngest camper said they were "Okay."  He's not much of a mushroom fan but he tried it, I give him credit for doing that.  How many people would eat something foraged from the woods and with bugs inside it?

Afton

I reserved a backpack campsite at Afton State Park a couple months ago.  I chose the closest one I could get to the parking lot. We had a great time.  We went to sleep listening to the whipporwill and woke up listening to the turkeys gobbling.  We hiked and swam and foraged and hiked and enjoyed campfires.  And hiked.

Afton State Park is a beautiful spot but very hilly.  This gnarly tree was on the long hike back from the outhouse.  We really had it rough.  No showers.  When we got back to the car there was a bathroom with soap and running water and it felt very luxurious to have clean smelling hands.

I accidentally brought only 5 ears of corn instead of 6.  I, in a regrettably impulsive yet gallant mood said "Go ahead.  I'll eat something else."  This is my resentful photo because that corn looked really good and was toasted to perfection on the campfire.

Like A Slap In The Face

Last night I was in a hurry to get some things done before the holiday weekend.  I headed out to the garden and hooked up the hose for the first time this season.  As I attempted to throw the sprinkler head in the center of the garden over the fence, a beautiful smell hit me like a slap in the face.  Oh, the crab apple tree blossoms perfume the air in such a lovely way it makes me want to cry.  With 4 crab apple trees and one Haralson apple tree in bloom, my yard will be like a fairyland this weekend.  I don't like perfume and I don't like artificial scents like potpourri or smells that come out of a can.  But give me a crab apple blossom or a lily of the valley or a lilac or a rose and I will just melt. 

The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey

I read The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey quickly.  This book is so good it makes you look forward to working out on the stair climber again so you can get back to Ptolemy and see how things are going for the old guy.  Walter Mosley wrote this story about opposites; black and white, old and young, rich and poor, kind and cruel, supportive and exploitive, trustworthy and ruthless.  Ptolemy is a hermit like man living in a big city.  He's afraid to answer his door or leave his house because an addicted neighbor keeps taking his pension money from him.  He's 90+ years old and dementia is catching up to him.  His apartment is cluttered, unclean, and uninhabitable.  His only family that he can trust, his nephew, is killed.  The other members of his family want to take advantage of him.  Robyn is a homeless 18 year old girl.  Ptolemy comes to trust her and she turns his life around.  She is strong and she is responsible.  She cleans his apartment.  She makes sure he has good food to eat and that he takes care of himself.  She chases off the addicted neighbor.  Best of all, she is respectful. And given respect and a healthy home Ptolemy makes some big changes in his life.  I love a story where good triumphs over evil.   

Veery Very Close

Last night when I finished mowing I had to wait a few minutes for the buzzing to leave my ears.  It wasn't just grass I was mowing but also some sticks, twigs, young raspberry canes and several smaller trees.  When my hearing ability came back to me I heard one of the most beautiful bird calls I have ever heard. A veery was very close.  If not in my yard it was in an adjacent lot.  If I had to guess I'd say the veery was in the undeveloped woodland to my southwest.  The sound they make is flute like - as if someone was twirling a huge pipe in the air very fast.  The metallic sound they make goes down in tone.  The veery call is so pretty I just have to share:

Important Visitors

Yesterday I took the day off work to get a start on planting the garden.  Vegetables go in first.  Flowers can wait. I got a good start.  My Yukon gold and my blue potatoes are already up.  Garlic and some stray onions were also growing.  As I turned the soil the chickens followed me and ate the June bugs and angle worms as they were uncovered.  Gross.  I eat the eggs that come from the chickens that eat angle worms and June bugs?  Can't think about that too much.  These chickens are smart.  They scratch and scratch at some areas of the garden but not near the seeded areas or by the new plants.  So my chickens double as garden weeders which is handy for me.  I added carrots, Castor beans, peas, 9 red kohlrabi (will I regret that?  It was either 9 or none so I went with 9), gourds, peppers, and tomatoes.  I planted sunflowers too.  I don't know why I do that.  Every year the deer eat the tops off the sunflower plants when they're a foot high leaving me a row of sticks.  Why do I even bother?  I just like the sunflowers so much that I keep trying when experience has taught me to give up. The weather was foggy in the morning but got more and more beautiful as the day went on.  I had a 4:30 appointment.  When I went to leave at 4 I had some important visitors arrive making me late.  In the driveway were a bunch of yellow warblers, yellow rumped warblers, chestnut sided warblers, Nashville warblers and chipping sparrows flitting around in the mud puddle in the driveway.  What a treat to look at warblers down on the ground for a change.  When they're up in trees I get "warbler neck" which is a sore neck to be sure.  I was watching the warblers flit around when two bright blue birds with purplish heads jumped in to the party.  I got so excited to see my first of the year indigo buntings that I now owe my swearing jar another dollar.  Will I ever mature enough to express great excitement with something other than coarse language? 

Couple Pics from Quarry Park

Machine that hoists the granite blocks up.

This is the edge of a granite saw.  A woman stood in the center of the saw and her head came up to the hole in the center.  She said she was 5 foot 6 inches so that would make the blade 11 feet in diameter.

Some of the water in the quarry holes is from underground springs and some is from rain run-off.

This tree growing out of the rock must have a "can do" attitude.

The black basalt intruded into the granite and forced the two sides apart.

Bent

There is so much to learn at these Master Naturalist conventions.  One mind can not take it all in.  Our keynote speaker on Friday night was a forest ecologist.  He thinks that in 100 years Minnesota won't have 3 biomes like we do now.  All of Minnesota, right up to and including the BWCA will be prairie.  His opinion is the quick climatic changes ahead will make for very interesting times for scientists.  I'm thinking isn't that a Chinese curse - may you live in interesting times?  He also said there is a rare rock elm on the campus of Camp Friendship.  I've never even heard of rock elms before.  On Saturday morning I got up early for the guided walk through the forest where we saw anemone in bloom and a couple warblers.  After breakfast I had a class in Minnesota wildflowers and another class called "Locking in the Light" which was about photography.  In between sessions I walked through the silent auction trying to restrain myself.  But I had seen a photo of a burr oak on a prairie with orange matting.  After taking the photography class and seeing that same photo projected on the screen, I knew I had to bid on it.  After lunch we went on a guided tour of quarry park.  I've been to quarry park before but never on a guided tour.  Our guide was a geology professor from St. Cloud State University.  She was very enthusiastic and lively but she had an asthma attack that was so bad I thought we should have called 911.  I could tell she had been through these attacks before because she rushed her words in immediately after each cough before the next spasm came on.  Eventually her lungs quieted down and she could explain things in peace.  After dinner we had a Hamline University business professor talk about including people of color in nature.  Looking around I realize for the first time that except for 2 women (one a native American and the other from India) we were all white.  After that talk we had the option of listening or dancing to "Lefty's Band," socializing around a campfire, socializing other places, or going to bed.  I went to the campfire.  I really didn't need that sticky s'more but what the heck?  First campfire of the year?  A s'more seems right.  That night I went to bed listening to the loons calling. I got up early the next morning to go on a bird hike.  Everyone was excited to go on a bird hike with Doug.  I realize now how lucky I was to have him take me on bird hikes before and also to work with him on my first Christmas bird count.  We saw some warblers and had a great morning outside in the woods across from Camp Friendship called "Uncle Foggy's Nature Area."  I wanted to walk down to the lake and I could get pretty close but they have the lake fenced off.  Really?  Fence off the lake at a lakeside camp?  I suppose this is necessary for safety reasons as this camp is designed for kids and adults with disabilities.  After breakfast I went to a class on Minnesota bats and another class on mushrooms. The speaker told us that fungi have 47 genders.  47 genders?  47?  I couldn't take in any more information. My mind got bent at 47 genders and I just couldn't process anymore.  Except I did get the impression that mushrooms are deadly enough that I don't want to take the chance on making any mistakes.  I might eat a morel I found in the woods but only if I opened it and saw it was hollow inside.  Otherwise I'll buy my mushrooms at a store.  I was impressed with the facilities at Camp Friendship.  Except for the lake being locked it was a beautiful place.  The food was delicious.  The facilities were very nice. I ended up getting my burr oak photo in the silent auction. Next year our convention will be in Grand Rapids.  I plan on going.

I had a really great weekend at the Master Naturalist convention at Camp Friendship in Annandale.  I was sad that it had to come to an end today at 1 o'clock.  I had 11 hours of training, a guided tour of the St. Cloud granite quarry by a geology professor from St. Cloud State University, and plenty of time to socialize with my master naturalist friends.  Some of these people I only get to see once a year.  And I was the big winner of a drawing.  I won "Beastie Naturalist," a rhinoceros looking hunk of wood on a wooden plaque who actually has his her it's own facebook page.  I think I will take Beastie on my master naturalist activities and keep all of Beastie's friends updated.  Beastie can go on the frog and toad survey.  Beastie can monitor the water of the Rum River.  Beastie can even go on the Christmas bird count.  And next May when the Master Naturalists meet again in Grand Rapids Beastie can be won by a different master naturalist. 

#4.

Lost Lake

Sarah Addison Allen wrote Lost Lake.  What I liked about it was different generations helping each other out.  Seniors learning from 8 year olds.  Teens learning from older adults.  Set in Atlanta, Georgia and rural Suley, Georgia, friends and family help each other sometimes when the recipients weren't aware they needed or wanted help.  This story wasn't great literature but it was cute.  Reading it made me wish I had another 8 year old girl in my life.  8 year old girls can be so smart sometimes and they tend to think outside of the box (and outside the laws of nature). 

You Can Call Me

This morning I went to a breakfast meeting about IT support, databases, virtual storage of data and various platforms.  Wowsers. I kept up with most of it. #ucancallmeSDawg

Orphan Train

My book club read Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline. Most of the group liked it more than I did.  I found the story to be too sad. I guess orphans are a sad subject to write about.  During the depression, immigrant orphans were gathered up from institutions and from the streets, put on a train, and sold to farm families in the Midwest.  In this story a young girl from Ireland looses her family in a fire and is put on the train.  She is supposed to be a part of a family and should be allowed to go to school.  Instead she is sold to a couple who run a sewing business.  They put her to work.  She sleeps in the hallway on a rug. And this isn't the worst place she get assigned to.  Eventually she makes her way to a decent family who takes her in but she is marred by her experiences.  As an old woman she lives alone in a mansion on the east coast.  A young goth orphaned teen comes to her house to complete some community service.  The teen helps the old woman heal from her experiences and in turn she helps the teen cope.  As we were talking we started comparing the plight of orphans then and now.  I'm not sure kids have it any better now than they did then.  There are always people who want to profit from a child instead of taking them under the wing and allowing them to be children while they're still young.  My mind wandered off during the discussion to my own grandmother.  When barely a teen her mother died.  Her father wanted to remarry.  His new wife accepted the two youngest children as her own but the older ones were farmed out.  My grandmother was sent to White Bear Lake to work in a cafe.  So basically she was orphaned while her father was still alive which is worse than being truly orphaned.  There is a lot of sadness in this world and sometimes I'm just not in the mood to dwell on it.

Shelter

I read Shelter by Frances Greenslade.  Actually I gobbled it up like a DQ cone on a hot summer night.  This story is about two sisters whose lives change when their father dies.  They live in the mountainous woods of British Columbia in a cabin.  They eat deer meat and squirrel, wild rice and maple syrup.  The younger sister, Maggie, was closer to the father.  He taught her that to survive shelter should be the first priority.  This tidbit comes in handy when their mother abandons them.  The sisters are in their early teens and she abandons them gradually.  She drops them off at a friend's house and sends money for a while.  Eventually she stops sending money and making any attempts at contacting them.  Maggie helps her older sister, Jenny, cope with being an orphan.  The characters are so alive I felt rude putting the book down to do other things.  This is a great story. 

Desperately

Feeling Appreciated

As the mother of two offspring, I'm feeling very appreciated today on Mother's Day.  Gifts of flowers, candy, food, sentiments of love, time, and assistance feel like more than I deserve.  Because it's my offspring I should be thanking for allowing me to be a mother - the greatest role in my life.  I have loved being a mother.  It wasn't all smiles and cotton candy either.  There were some hard times, some unpopular decisions, and some sleepless nights but it was all worth it.  Being a mother has been my passion since the age of 15.  When I was 15 I heard my dying aunt say, "My only regret is that I never had children."  That was the moment I vowed to be a mother.  I admired my aunt and the adventurous life she chose for herself. I wanted what she had and children too.  I am a lucky woman and I have my kids to thank for it.  

62!

On Friday I was undecided.  Did I really want to get up early on Saturday and go on a bird hike?  Really?  Wouldn't I prefer to sleep in?  But then I saw on facebook that a white faced ibis had been spotted at Sherburne National Wildlife Refuge.  All of a sudden I wanted to go birding real bad.  But I needed to preregister.  At 3:30 pm on Friday afternoon I try to preregister.  Lucky me, they had room for me.  So I set the alarm for 5:45 which is 15 LONG minutes before I usually have to get up.  I had my clothes laid out so I got there on time.  Our leader's name was Robin-good name for a bird hike leader. And she was excellent.  She was casual and informative.  She didn't talk too much and she didn't talk too little.  She told us about habits and habitat.  Ahead on the path was a forest on the left and a prairie on the right.  She explained that we would see white throated sparrows on one side and white crowned sparrows on the other side.  I got there early.  One of the organizers recognized me from the Christmas bird count.  He asked if I would tally the species and numbers on a sheet of paper.  Not quite awake yet I agreed.  As I squinted at the sheet and tried to wake up completely, I saw a list of hundreds of birds in size 8 font.  I looked again.  I saw magnificent frigate bird.  "What kind of list is this?" I asked the organizer, "There's a magnificent frigate bird on this list."  I know magnificent frigate birds.  Magnificent frigate birds circled the ports on the Galapagos Islands.  Evidently this is a list of ALL the birds ever seen in Minnesota which is a very long list of birds.  A couple cranes flew over.  I looked at the list for five minutes and could not find sand hill cranes.  I asked Robin to find sand hill cranes on the list.  She found them after about 3 minutes.  This was not a good way to start the bird list.  If you're busy looking at the list all the time you don't get to enjoy the birds as much.  But I agreed to do it so I toughed it out.  All in all, we saw 62 species: cranes, Canadian geese, great blue herons, green herons, northern harrier, sora, red headed woodpecker, red bellied woodpecker, yellow bellied sapsucker (the name sounds like an insult), northern flicker, pileated woodpecker, least fly catcher, great crested fly catcher, yellow throated vireo, blue headed vireo, blue jay, crow, tree swallow, barn swallow, black capped chickadee, sedge wren, ruby crowned kinglet, veery, Swainson's thrush, wood thrush, robin, gray catbird, brown thrashers, ovenbird, northern water thrush, black and white warbler, Nashville warbler, common yellow throat, American redstart, Northern Parula, Magnolia warbler, yellow warblers, palm warblers, yellow rumped warbler, black throated green warbler, Wilson's warbler, eastern towhee, chipping sparrow, field sparrow, lark sparrow, fox sparrow, song sparrow, Lincoln sparrow, swamp sparrow, Harris' sparrow, white throated sparrow, white crowned sparrow, rose breasted grossbeak, red winged blackbirds, brown headed cowbird, Baltimore oriole, and goldfinch.  All of these birds were found on the Mahnomen Trail.  While walking I heard chorus frogs, spring peepers, pickerel frogs and leopard frogs.  After this we were heading over to see the white faced ibis.  We got in our cars and drove west and north to a part of the refuge I had never seen before.  I saw some people standing next to a wetland with binoculars up.  We drove a good half mile past them to park.  I was getting anxious. Here it was 10:15.  Our bird hike was supposed to go until 10.  I had plans to go to the gym this morning.  How was this going to work?  Furgetaboutit!!!  By the time I finished walking to see the ibis, I would have the equivalent workout of going to the gym.  I relaxed a little bit.  We walked up and down the road looking for the white faced ibis.  They were here this morning.  We asked some bystanders about it.  One woman with a large camera answered, "Ask him!"  The man had not seen it but heard it was behind an island out there and heading north.  One of the people in our group walked to the farthest group of birders to ask them.  He came back and said we were misled.  The birds were more to the right.  What was this?  Were we deliberately misled?  Was this a situation like my Uncle Leo who when asked where he caught a fish always lied and said East Battle Lake?  Normally birders do not mislead you.  They're usually happy to share the experience of seeing a bird.  One person in our group said photographers are different than birders.  They're after a shot and don't want others to get in the way of their shot.  While I was mulling that over in my mind someone shouted, "Flying!"  OMG!  Four white faced ibis' flew across the pond.  How strange these birds are!  About a foot tall with long legs and a very long, downward angled bill, they look like something that should not be here in Minnesota.  We caught sight of a bald eagles, turkey vultures, pied billed grebes and ring necked ducks as well.  Very satisfied I turned in my species list to Robin and walked back to my car.  I was so glad I got up early today.

This is the spot where we saw the ibis'.  Looks like an intersection but it's where 57th curves into 185th.

  

So Orange

Something orange caught my eye this morning as I was rushing around packing my lunch and getting ready for work.  Something so vividly orange was on the birdfeeder that I could not look away.  I focused my old eyes on the orange shape.  Before I could focus on that I focused on the brown shape behind the orange shape.  A deer had thrown it's head over it's back and was scratching an itch with it's mouth.  Back to the orange.  A BALTIMORE ORIOLE!  A Baltimore Oriole was enjoying that generic grape jelly that I put out on Sunday.  Oh, how beautiful!  How lovely!  How deliciously orange this bird is!  Is this my favorite bird?  Yes (until I see the next cool bird anyway).  What a nice treat to have a bird so beautiful and so orange in my yard.  Note to self:  put grape jelly on the grocery list.

The Aviator's Wife

A good historical novel will spur you to learn more about the characters in the story.  Ever since I've read The Aviator's Wife I've been reading more about Anne Morrow Lindbergh and Charles Lindbergh.  Melanie Benjamin wrote an awesome historical fiction about Anne Lindbergh.  Her writing is crisp, clean and compelling.  This story starts at a time when people who traveled to Europe took a cruise.  Planes weren't often seen in the sky.  There were no commercial airlines.  And our country had a hero named Charles Lindbergh who was harassed by the paparazzi like no one else until Princess Di.  The author gave us a good description of what life was like for a Smith College graduate like Anne Morrow, the ambassador's daughter. When America's hero, Charles Lindbergh asks for her hand in marriage, how can she turn down what every young woman in the country wanted?  So what if he can't communicate, can't express or tolerate any expression of emotion, is emotionally distant, and self - centered?  He's a hero.  She allows him to mold her.  She learns to fly, to navigate, and to operate a radio.  She becomes his crew and she looses herself in the process.  This is a fascinating story about two fascinating people and their marriage.

Birdman of Lauderdale

A sibling lent me the book, The Birdman of Lauderdale  by Clay Christensen.  It's a good book!  He talks about his growing interest in birding, his first group birding trip, and his experiences at a Christmas bird count.  After reading his story I feel I know him.  He's like most people I meet on birding trips - really interested in learning more about birds and in nature in general.  He talks openly about making mistakes in bird identification and his humility is very cute.  All the chapters went by very quickly.  This is the kind of book you could finish on a long rainy afternoon. 

CSA

I joined a CSA today.  CSA stands for community supported agriculture farm.  I purchased a half share which means every week for 18 weeks this summer I will get about a grocery bag's amount of fresh organic vegetables. You have to pay in advance.  See the photo?  That is a full share so I'll get about half that amount.  And depending on mother nature, I'll get more or less of some vegetables.  If collard greens do well and brussel sprouts don't do as well, I'll get lots of collard greens and few if any brussel sprouts.  I hope that doesn't happen.  I like brussel sprouts more than collard greens. Today I made a quick decision but I have been thinking about doing this since my neighbors gave me a bag of their CSA arugula that was so fresh it still rain drops on it. I know I will learn from this.  I will eat a bigger variety of vegetables and herbs.  I will adjust my menu planning because I'll be eating locally and what is in season.  I'm sure I won't be able to use it all  But with chickens, a compost pile, and coworkers who take most if not all of what is put on the break room table, I know I'll get rid of it somehow.  Every Monday my half share will be delivered to a location less than a mile from my house.  I look at this as an experiment in healthy eating.  Plus I am supporting a local organic farmer by the name of Culinary Delights Farm out of Big Lake.

Hey Now!

This weekend I did some spring chores in the yard.  I allowed the chickens out to roam while I worked.  Either I was their protector or they were my protector because they followed me all over the property.  As I was moving their coop to a fresh spot of earth I looked up to see a large white raptor approach us and land on the bare branch of an oak tree right above our heads.  As I watched the bird spread it's wings as wide as they could go and brought it's talons forward for the landing; like an angel.  Amazeballs!  With the sun in our eyes the bird looked white.  As I looked straight up at the raptor I got dizzy as the branch moved in the wind and the white clouds blew by in the background.  We looked up at the bird and the bird looked down at us.  Wait a minute!  Hey now!  Did that bird just lick it's beak?  As I watched I figured out the bird was a very light colored red tailed hawk.  And this red tail was staring down at my chickens!  So naturally I had to protect them.  I said to the hawk, I said, "Hello!  I'm standing right here."  Hearing that the hawk thought it over and flew off circling back to the east from where it came.  Now that was an encounter to remember. 

7013

7013 is the number of miles I had on my motorcycle at the beginning of the season.  I had it out yesterday.  It's running very rough.  Some of the gas in the tank was put in there 11 months ago so I think it's running rough because of old gas.  Even though I topped off the tank in the fall with fresh gas and fuel stabilizer, I still think the issue could be old gas.  I got it started but the engine would stay on.  I restarted it and restarted it and restarted it.  Every time I restarted it the engine would run just a little longer.  Eventually the fumes got thick in the garage so I opened the garage door.  After a half hour of restarting it the engine would stay on as long as I didn't give it gas and didn't turn off the choke.  After another 15 minutes of running I got it moving.  I could give it gas and proceed without the engine killing.  I drove around my neighborhood.  The engine was backfiring more than usual but every time I tried to turn off the choke the engine died again.  I rode it four miles around my neighborhood.  I didn't have enough confidence in it to take it down the highway to the gas station.  I will wait until I have someone with me to offer assistance if I need it.

My First Warbler of 2014

yellow rumped warbler from allaboutbirds.com

Today I went on a bird walk sponsored by Anoka County.  A well known birder took a group of 15 around a wetland near the Bunker Hills Activity Center.  When we started at 7:30 a.m. it was pretty quiet out there except for chorus frogs and a couple spring peepers.  By 9 o'clock it was warmer and more birds were singing.  We saw chickadees, white breasted nuthatches and blue jays and robins at first.  One birder was looking down and found a fat toad on the side of the path.  The poor toad was so cold it didn't respond when it was nudged with the toe of a shoe.  That is what I like about being with birders.  They have as much interest in toads and other kinds of nature as birds.  We were walking on a sandy path.  We saw many holes in the sand.  Our leader asked us what could have made these holes.  To me they looked like the holes made by critters on an ocean beach.  "Beetles?  Worms?" I asked. To my chagrin he pointed out what kind of path we were on and the pattern the holes made on the path.  They were holes made by the poles of cross country skiers.  Just last week we had enough snow for cross country skiing.  Along the path we saw swamp sparrows and song sparrows foraging in the litter.  We got a good view of both golden crowned kinglets and ruby crowned kinglets.  In the trees we saw downy woodpeckers, hairy wood peckers, red bellied woodpeckers, and pileated woodpeckers. We saw a sand hill crane land in the wetland close to a Canadian goose. I got a great view of a hermit thrush.  A bald eagle and a turkey vulture flew by overhead.  On a branch an Eastern bluebird perched in the sun looking brilliant blue against the white puffy clouds.  In the wetland we watched the male red winged blackbirds defend their territory from each other.  One of them must have had territory close to the board walk because he kept dive bombing us until we walked away.  A hawk flew by very high.  One of the women in the group was in a birding class with me years ago.  As we tried to identify the hawk I whispered to her "broadband hawk."  This was her guess at a hawk at this very same park several years ago.  There is no such thing as a broadband hawk.  There is a broad winged hawk and there was broadband internet connection.  She laughed hard at that birding memory.  We saw tree swallows and barn swallows.  The final bird on the trip, the creme dela creme of the morning, was my first warbler of the year; a yellow rumped warbler.

Paying It Forward (Or Maybe Not)

We were talking at work the other day.  A coworker mentioned she got a free coffee  at the coffee shop drive through because the person driving the car ahead of her paid her bill.  Intrigued, I asked, "Is this just a coffee shop thing?"  I was told that this "paying it forward" is not just a coffee shop thing but can be done at any drive through.  Later that week I scheduled an evening so busy I didn't have time to go home to eat.  As I waited in line at the only fast food place that serves vegie burgers a man in a sedan pulled up behind me.  I could pay it forward for this guy.  I could do a kind deed.  At the window I asked if I could pay for the person behind me.  They allowed it. I wondered if the cashier would pocket the money and charge him too.  I guess I have a suspicious mind. My vegie burger was three dollars. His bill came to twelve dollars.  One guy ordered two whopper meals and extra fries and two full sugared cokes.  He ordered all kinds of empty carbs, three and a half weeks worth of saturated fat and too much sugar.  Am I helping him or am I killing him?  Was this a kind deed or did I contribute to future diabetes or a future heart attack?  Maybe I'm thinking too much.  Yeah, that's probably it.  Thinking too much.  I'm gonna think long and hard before I do that again.  It's not like you can ask the drive through staff if the person behind you in line is making healthy choices before you offer to pay for their order.  The people who work at these places are obliged to think all the choices are healthy.  There I go - thinking too much again.  I have no idea what impact I had on this guy.  I guess that is how paying it forward works.  You don't know the impact you make.

Avian Drama

A good friend sent me a photo to my phone in the morning.  I opened it up on my cheap tracfone.  I could see oak trees in the photo and a log lying on the ground.  She lives in Savage and has property on the Gunflint Trail.  With the oak trees I figured the photo was from Savage.  But I really couldn't see why she sent the photo.  I asked and she sent me another photo but I still couldn't make it out.  I waited until I got home and put on my magnifying glasses but I still couldn't make it out.  She sent a third photo with an explanation that a cooper's hawk was the predator and she was trying to read the number on the tag on the prey's leg.  Looking again I could make out the third photo was a dismembered bird leg with a silver band on the leg.  Her fourth text was that the dead bird was a racing pigeon from a Lakeville pigeon racing flock. How cool is that?  She saw a cooper's hawk kill and consume a racing pigeon. She documented this circle of life event on her phone.  Best of all she shared it with me!