Where Does The Time Go?

Where does the time go?  Feels like one minute the kid is walking around is his size 2T camo shirt and the next minute he' accepting a commission to be an officer.  My role as Mom the protector and guider seems so short!  I'm so proud.  He came out of me!

Photo Before My Bike Started Smoking

That is me in the silver helmet, second from the left.

Sing You Home

Jodi Picoult, one of my favorite authors, wrote Sing You Home.   This novel, like all Picoult's novels, is about a current cultural issue, this one being gay rights.  Zoe, the main character, is a music therapist.  I have two friends who were music therapists so I was really interested in Zoe's work life.  Picoult does a great job developing the character of Zoe and Vanessa (her wife).  The story of Max (her ex-husband) is not as cleverly depicted.  Every Picoult novel has courtroom drama and this one involves Zoe and Vanessa fighting Max for possession of Zoe's and Max's three frozen embryoes.  The story moves along swiftly.  I got so caught up in the drama I wanted to extend the last few chapters by reading slowly and taking more breaks.  This was a good book, an easy read, a nice way to pass the time in the summer.

Chick at Week 5

Week One

Week 5

I can tell you one thing. A chick at week five is less willing to pose for a photo than a chick at week one. This one leaped off the table and scrambled around my foyer for a few minutes before I could grab it again.

Looking At Milkweed Plants Can Be Exciting

This is my fourth week monitoring my milkweed plants.  Sounds boring, doesn't it?  But it's not boring.  In fact sometimes it's downright thrilling.  The mosquitoes were not as aggressive this weekend as they were last weekend so the experience was much more pleasant.  But I did let out a few quiet screams and other sounds of terror. I have to bend down and examine every leaf on 22 plants.  I look for caterpillars and monarch eggs.  Every white blob must be examined with my magnifying lens.  I don't know how strong the lens is but it's strong enough to make my fingerprints look textured.  When I'm down close examining a white blob and it starts crawling toward me I can't help but go, "Bleeargh," and stand up. That wasn't an egg, it was a round white little bug with two eyes and a mouth.   Another time I was examining a real monarch egg when a mosquito landed on the leaf right next to the egg.  The mosquito suddenly appeared in my field of magnification.  Man, it was giant and very scary.  The proboscis seemed dangerously huge.  I let out a little scream.  This monarch monitoring can be exciting.  The photo above is from a monarch monitoring website.  You can see the male monarch is different from the female because he has two black blobs on the second black vein from the body on the lower wing.

Road Trip

Today I went on a motorcycle road trip with a group of friends.  We had seven bikes in all. Our trip took us through Anoka, Dayton, Otsego, Monticello, Santiago, Foley, Pierz, Onamia, Waukon, Isle, Ogilvie, Dalbo, and St. Francis.  Just a couple drops of rain fell on us in the morning.  Along the way I saw great blue herons, red winged blackbirds, turkey vultures, robins, bluebirds, egrets, goldfinches, red tailed hawks, and one night hawk.  We got a few good looks at Mille Lacs Lake.  All in all it was a great day.  I had a great time even though the day did not turn out as I expected.  As we neared Otsego, a friend of mine beeped his horn at me and said, 'You are blowing smoke."  My first reaction was to be insulted, thinking he meant I exaggerated for personal gain.  But then I glanced back and saw a plume of oily smoke coming from my bike.  I pulled over.  Oil poured out from below the bike. Well, if I had to break down, at least I had 6 people to help me out.  We had parked behind the Target.  We bought 3 cans of oil, poured them in, and I drove to the Suzuki dealer in Elk River, smoking almost all the way.  I lost power as I went further.  The motor died about a block from the dealer and I coasted into the parking lot.  I hope it won't be a long and expensive fix.  So I spent most of the road trip on the back of another guy's Yamaha V Star.  I still had a great time and found it easier to look at the scenery when I wasn't driving. 

Summer Solstice

Yesterday was the summer solstice, the longest daylight of the year.  I was invited to a concert and that prompted me to think, how do I want to use my time on the longest daylight day of the year?  I had to work all day.  By the time I ran errands, worked out, and ate dinner, it was 7 o’clock.  Still daylight out so I decided to spend the beautiful evening on a lake.  Back in the late 1970’s I had a girlfriend named Linda.  She lived in St. Paul.  She bought a kayak and she said she enjoyed kayaking on Round Lake in Andover.  I asked her why (thinking to myself she is driving past a lot of nice lakes on the way to Round Lake).  She said she liked the small size and shallow depth.  At the time I didn’t understand the attraction.  After going there last night, I finally understand Linda’s choice.  Although small and shallow, Round Lake is a beautiful lake to kayak.  The water is not deep but it is very clear.  White and yellow water lilies were in bloom.  As I paddled counterclockwise, I saw a pair of loons with a baby, red winged blackbirds, tree swallows, a bald eagle, a Northern Harrier hawk, robins and bluebirds.  Attached couples of dragonflies and damselflies flew past by boat.  When I got to the far side, I saw some birds landing on lily pads and hopping from one lily pad to the next.  As I got closer I could see the bright yellow heads of the yellow headed blackbirds.  Oh, they are so beautiful.  I don’t always see them every year so this was a blessing on the longest day of the year.  Green frogs were croaking in the bulrushes.  The lake is so shallow that I could kayak around little islands of bulrushes.  I watched an osprey fly back and forth across the lake.  Three times I saw it hover like a gigantic hummingbird and then zoom, plunge headfirst into the lake and sending up a splash that was 3 feet high.  Three times it dived for a fish.  The score was Fish-3, Osprey-0.  I had chosen a great way to celebrate the solstice.

12

When is a Question Not a Question?

Have you ever been asked a question that is not really a question?  This happened to me today.  An assertive (sometimes aggressive) coworker asked me a question and it sounded like a question but it wasn't.  I know her.  When she says, "Do you think it will be all right if I do something different from what people expect without warning?"  I know she's not really asking my opinion.  I know from our history together, her body language, and the volume of her voice that this is a series of questions guaranteed to back me into her corner. She wants me to agree with her.  She has already thought this through.  She has anticipated my possible responses.  She has all the rebuttals prepared to any concerns I express.    Her voice, usually loud, is already extra loud and extra forceful.  I've been the on this group for about 20 years and I've never heard that anyone had a problem with how we were doing it before.  Saying that won't help this situation.  As much as I don't like her approach, the truth is, she might be right.  Besides, how big a deal is it?  So today, I try a different approach.  I mentally smooth my feathers down, take a deep breath, and deflate my ego.  I don't play.  I honestly answer, "I don't know, never thought about it before."  I can see this throws her off.  So she asks, "What will the other committee members think of this?"  Again, I don't play.  I answer, "I don't know.  I am only one person on the committee."  With this particular coworker, what seems like a question really isn't a question because in her mind, there is only one right response.  A real question about my opinion can have more than one correct answer.  I don't like feeling cornered.  That compels me to think about the questions I ask of others.  Do I ask true questions?  Am I open to opinions?

Hungry Hairy Woodpeckers Demand Dinner

I put suet out for the woodpeckers.  I try to limit the amount to 3 or 4 ounces at a time because I don't want the suet (fat from above beef kidneys) to go rancid in the summer heat.  The woodpeckers demolish the 3 or 4 ounces in anywhere from 2 to 24 hours.  They've been eating more suet now than they did in the middle of winter.  If the suet feeder is empty, the woodpeckers cling to the deck railing and twitter loudly.  Is it anthromorphisizing if I say they're scolding me and asking, "Where is dinner?"  When I bring the suet out, the parent hairy woodpecker will cling next to the suet, peck out a piece, and hand it over, beak to beak,to the baby hairy woodpeckers who is clinging just a few inches away.  The parent hairy woodpeckers doesn't even have to move it's feed to take a bite, feed the baby, take another bite, feed the baby, etc.  I would think the parent would just nudge the baby a few inches closer so they can feed themselves.  It's fun to watch the woodpecker family at dinner and it adds great data for my breeding bird atlas, but they've been doing this for almost a week now.  Anthromorphisizing or not, I do wonder when these hairy woodpeckers are going to put on their big boy pants and peck their own suet out of the suet holder. I think I tend to give the birds human emotions because it makes a better story.  Who doesn't love Winnie the Pooh?  The Hobbit?  Alice in Wonderland?  The Jungle Book?  Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?  They're all great stories about animals with human emotions.

Dressed Like A Nerd

My newest nature volunteer project is monitoring a monarch garden which happens to be in my own yard.  Once a week I look over all 20+ milkweed plants looking for monarch eggs and caterpillars and butterflies.  "So easy," I thought, being in my own back yard.  "So convenient."  Last night I monitored my plants and it didn't feel easy or convenient.  I was dressed like a nerd with my wellies, long pants under a sundress topped with hooded rain coat with the hood up and fastened tightly under the chin with a magnifying lens tied around my neck plus a two pocket apron tied around my waist.  I was sweltering in there but I still wished I had mittens on because the DARN MOSQUITOES WERE TRYING TO EAT ME ALIVE.  While monitoring the milkweed, I had to crouch down in the deep grass and look at the top and bottom of every leaf on the plant.  First I have to walk through the tall grass and alert the mosquitoes that I'm out there.  Then i bend down and hold still for them so they can bite me more easily.  The pants, coat, and hood kept the mosquitoes away except for the hands and face.  The mosquitoes are terrible this year which is why I dress like a nerd.  Sometimes I wonder, what do the neighbors think?

Chicks Move Out or The Old Mother Hen Takes Them Under Her Wing

The chick's home for one month- a blue tote with a window screen on top.

Meredith tries to call the chicks to come inside and go to bed.  They don't listen.

On Saturday the chicks moved from their home, a big blue tote, out in to the real world.  This was an exciting experience for them.  Before this, they had blue plastic boundaries.  There was no in and no out.  There was no night and no day.  Often night was brightly lit and warm while day was sometimes darker.  Worried that the chicks and Meredith might not get along, I set the blue tote next to her coop for three days so they could get used to each other's noises.  I let Meredith out of her coop to take a dust bath and run her usual route under the bird feeders and through both compost heaps. While she was out in the yard,  I cleaned out the coop and put the chicks into it.  They went crazy out of the blue tote.  They ran,  they jumped, they tried to fly,  they did chest bumps in the air. After an hour every inch of grass in the run was trampled and pecked at.  To me, all the chicks but one look the same.  One chick is a little smaller and has a browner tail.  Otherwise I can't tell them apart so they are not named yet.  Meredith strolled by the run and I believe she noticed the chicks in there but she did not react.  Usually when she sees me put her fresh food in the coop, she rushes to get in there but not this time.  She thought about it and then strolled away.  I decided to let her have a few more minutes to stroll.  I really didn't want to force her into the coop of chicks if she wasn't ready.  Besides, the darker it gets the more unaware she becomes.  When it's truly dark she acts like she is in a coma and if she's in a coma, she won't attack the chicks. By sunset she was sitting on top of the coop so I calmly put her away and shut the door.  The chicks were all outside in the run still running around like crazy.  Where do they get the energy?  I saw no fighting so that was a good sign.  I worried Meredith might attack one or more of the chicks.  She might not have liked having six new coop mates.  On the other hand, it's been over a year since Pamela died and maybe these chicks will bring her pleasant companionship.  By the time it got dark the chicks still did not go into the coop.  They're not used to going into anything.  This was their first experience of in and out.  They didn't know enough to go in at night.  Worried they might not know enough to go to bed and they might get too cold outside, I tried to put them into the coop. I grabbed two and put them in and before I could grab more, those two came running out screaming at the top of their chicken lungs.  Then they all panicked.  I gave up at that point.  At 9:30, when it was darker outside, I tried again.  I put two in and they stayed while I put the last four in.   This morning all six chicks were outside running around like usual.  They don't know enough to come in out of the rain.  I ended up putting a vinyl table cloth over the run so they don't get too wet.  There is peace in the valley though and that is what is important.  All the chickens are getting along so far.  That is a huge relief.

Chicks at Week Four

I don't want to be on your blog.  You can't make me.  I'd rather be on the Exorcist!

Are you looking at me?

Week One chick

Colorful Birds Return

Today I was home quite a bit and saw a plethora of birds in my yard including two "first of the year" birds at opposite ends of the color wheel - an indigo bunting (with his less colorful wife and children) and an oriole.  Besides these two glamorous birds I saw red bellied woodpeckers, hairy woodpeckers (feeding a fledgling suet right out of his mouth), downy woodpeckers, cardinals, blue jays, blue birds, gold finches, house finches, black capped chickadees, white breasted nuthatches, catbirds, chipping sparrows, ruby throated hummingbirds and a great crested flycatcher.  The chickadees normally do not eat thistle seed. I've never seen them touch it before; not even in the winter.  For the past couple weeks the chickadees have really been going after the thistle seed.  I figure thistle seed is small enough nourishment for the chickadee to carry home to the fledglings in the cavity nest.  Thistle seed might be easier for a young one to eat than a sunflower seed.

Joys Of Summer

Smells are one of the joys of summer.  One smell I particularly like is the smell of pineapple weed when I mow the lawn.  Also known as wild chamomile, pineapple weed is edible in salads and in tea.  Rubbing a bruised plant on your skin temporarily repels insects.  Quite a bit of pineapple weed grows next to my driveway so that part is particularly pleasant to mow.

Alex and Me

My favorite neighbors lent me a book called Alex and Me- How a Scientist and a Bird Uncovered a World of Animal Intelligence-And Formed a Deep Bond In the Process written by Irene Pepperberg.  They thought I would like this book because they know I like reading and they know like birds (possibly because I ask them to birdsit for me).  They brought the book over and within a week I had consumed the entire story..Irene writes how she first became interested in birds - getting a parakeet for her 5th birthday.  Irene is one of those people who enters the enclosed world of college and never leaves. As a graduate student, she starts working with Alex and they become inseparable.  Although Alex has a bird brain, he learns how to talk, how to count, how to distinguish colors and shapes, and the concept of more and less,  He came up with unique answers that showed thought and intention.  He was on television news (although I don't remember seeing him).  Irene had to be careful that she didn't influence Alex.  She tried to keep their interactions methodical and scientific. She would ask Alex the same question repeatedly to see if the got the same results. Alex, tired of being asked the same question, did what any student might eventually do, which was to give her the wrong answer on purpose. Irene and Alex challenged the assumptions we have made about animals.  Irene faced cold shoulders from many people in the scientific community who resisted her research.  Alex died in 2007.  Irene writes a very readable and endearing story about her methods and about how Alex learned.

Latehomecomer

My book club read Latehomecomer by Kao Kalia Yang, a local writer.  I get so much more out of a book when I read it in book club.  The discussion is very helpful to me.  When I read it, I thought it was an odd book to describe the Hmong culture. The intention of the writer was not to describe Hmong culture but to write a tribute, a published love letter, to her beloved Grandmother.  Along the way, Hmong culture does get described: respect for the elderly, strong family ties, problems assimilating in the St. Paul school district, translating for parents and other communication conflicts.  I learned a few new things in book club. One is that outside of Minnesota, Wisconsin, and California, many states have no Hmong population.  People in Kansas?  Totally unaware of Hmong culture (unless you count the veterans from Vietnam).  And the Hmong - they have no home.  They were ousted from China, ousted from Laos, and kicked out of Thailand.  According to Yang's lyrical writing, she is proud to be Hmong.  She came to the United States at age seven after living in a refugee camp. Before that she escaped Laos with her parents and sister, having to swim across a river in the dark so they would not be shot.  Grandma, her eight sons, and the families of her eight sons all crossed the river that night.  Eventually they all made it to Minnesota where the grandchildren would fight over who got to sit by Grandma and rub her feet or cut her toenails while she sat in her chair.  I find other cultures, living so close to me (Yang now lives in Andover) totally fascinating.  This was a great book to read.

Growing Chicks

Week One

Week Two

Week Three - pecking the can.

Also week three-too big to balance on a can now that it's the same height as a can of pop.

The chicks are getting big now, too big to balance on top of a pop can.  They are greedy little things.  If I throw a handful of dandelion leaves into their blue box home, each one will grab a piece and run away, desperate to keep anyone from taking their leaf.  It's crazy to watch six chicks, each with a leaf in it's mouth, running away from each other in a blue tote box.  As the chicks age they start to look different from each other more and more. I still haven't named them and I still haven't introduced them to Meredith.  It's almost warm enough for them to move outside.  The question is, what will Meredith think about this?

Camping

Biking the wildlife loop - super fun!

yellow lady slipper in bloom.

Kayaking Elk Lake in the wind.



This is some kind of crayfish eating mammal den - maybe a mink or an otter?  The hole is more than 3 inches in diameter.  As many as five other holes were within 10 feet of this one.  See the crayfish skeletons?



A tent catepillar spinning a coccoon - on a tent.  Living up to it's name.

I'm a tree hugger.

Offspring #2 and I had a great time camping at Itaska State Park.  It's really one of my favorite state parks.  The facilities are great.  The staff are friendly.  We had two close encounters with wildlife.  One hulky raccoon sauntered into our campsite at dusk on Friday night.  He reminded me of those weightlifting guys at the gym with thick necks, muscular shoulders and arms the diameter of legs.  He was the Arnold Schwarzenegger of raccoons.  My reaction to seeing him saunter by?  I grabbed my offspring's arm - like that is going to help?!  I guess if he attacked I could throw her at his feet and start running. Our second encounter was while biking the 16 mile wildlife drive loop.  We stopped biking because our legs were too weak to make it up the hill to enjoy the scenery when a ruffed grouse screamed like a banshee, almost t-boned offspring #2, swerved to the left at the last minute, flew over our handlebars and landed in the brush on the other side of the road. There it clucked and paced for 10 minutes in the brush while I tried to take it's picture.  I got 12 shots of the grouse only the grouse is not visible in any of the photos.  We biked during the morning hours on Saturday before it got too hot.  We swam to cool off in the afternoon and then went kayaking on Elk Lake. The wind was so strong there were white caps on this little lake.  The kayak cut through the waves and it was hard paddling out.  But paddling back was super easy and I came in so fast it was scary.  We kayaked again on Sunday morning on Mary Lake which was a much different experience - calm, peaceful, and relaxing.  I had not been to the headwaters of the Mississippi for a long time; too long I think. 

My First Instar!



Photo showing the five monarch instars.



Maybe this won't seem like a big deal to you but it's a big deal to me. On Saturday I took a class on monitoring monarch larvae. I learned quite a bit.  I learned how to identify the eggs, the five larvae stages, the pupae (snicker) and the difference between the male and female monarchs.  I took that knowledge and created a monarch monitoring site on my property.  I counted 20 milkweed plants.  On one plant I found a single monarch egg.  The tiny cream colored egg was so small I couldn't even see the peaked top without a magnifying lens.  I took that egg in the house and put the egg and leaf into a Tupperware dish with a damp paper towel.  I checked the egg every day.  One day I thought I saw the egg moving but I figured I wasn't holding the leaf still.  On Wednesday I saw the egg was gone.  I thought it has disappeared.  Then, with the magnifying glass, I saw a tiny C shaped hole in the leaf.  The egg must have hatched.  The first larvae, known as the first instar, eats it's egg and then bites a crescent hole in the leaf to stop the flow of milky white sap.  But I couldn't find the first instar.  Tonight, with my magnifying lens and really searching carefully, I found my first instar!  Oh, I am such a proud parent.  Only 10% of first instars survive to adulthood outside.  If I can get this instar to adulthood - wow, that would be so cool.  I think I just found myself a new hobby - monarch foster parent.  I will have lots and lots of flying orange babies.

Growing Chicks

Week One

Week Two

Also Week Two

Last Man In Tower

Aravind Adiga wrote Last Man in Tower and his story brought out my character distortion of denial. I really didn’t think the story was going to end up the way it did. The author gave me plenty of clues but I was totally astounded at what happened to Masterji. Masterji (pronounced Master Gee)  is the main character of this story that takes place in an apartment complex in Mumbai, India. He is a retired science teacher who lost his wife a year ago and is estranged from his son. A real estate developer wants to tear down the apartment complex he and others live in and put up a new one. The developer offers all the tenants $330,000 to give up their homes. Prior to the development offer, all the tenants in the building got along and existed peacefully.  Many were friends.  All the tenants agree to take the money and give up their homes except Masterji. Business dealings in India, like anywhere, can be vicious and desperate. The author was a financial journalist for Time magazine in India and he knows a thing or two about business. He also knows how to tell a story that paints a vivid picture of the people living in Masterji’s apartment complex. Great read.

Maiden Voyage

I bought a kayak earlier this year.  I finally got it registered.  Yesterday I took it out on the water for the first time.  I forgot to bring the bottle of champagne.  This kayak is special. I have bought boats with other people and for other people but this boat is mine and mine alone.  The water on the river is still nearly at flood stage so I chose a lake.  Crooked Lake has always intrigued me.  I see part of it from Highway 10 frequently. I knew it was ringed by homes.  I've seen the boat landing on the north side of the lake and I knew that parking lot was quite busy.  I knew there was a park on the east side of the lake because I took my kids there swimming many, many years ago.  I knew the lake was shallow and weedy.  I knew only one meal of fish per month was the recommendation for women and children due to mercury and other pollutants.  What I did not know was what a great lake Crooked Lake is.  I put in at the north access near Bunker Lake Boulevard.  Because I can pull my boat through the grass by hand and don't need a dock, I didn't need to wait in line like the bigger boaters.  I talked to one guy who was just leaving at 10:30 a.m.   He had caught and released two nice bass and kept one 30 inch northern pike.  He went home happy.  I heard 3 green frogs singing their love songs in the rushes.  As I paddled away from the access I judged the lake shore property owners.  A yard with a 10 foot shore margin of trees, bushes and tall grasses with cattails growing into the lake was "a good steward of the land."  A yard with weed free clipped grass and all cattails removed was "uneducated or unenlightened or unaware."   Most of the good stewards were clustered at the north end end of the lake.  White water lilies were in blossom.  The weeds were thick but a kayak can plow right over weeds.  Motor boaters had to stick to a narrow open channel on the north end of the lake.  The lake gets wider in the middle.  I paddled counter clockwise going south on the west shore and north on the east shore.  Two loons were hanging out at the south end of the lake nearest Highway 10.  I was happy to see them.  One homeowner (one of those uneducated ones) had a purple martin nest which I was happy to see.  I saw purple martins flying over the water.  Another homeowner on the western side of the lake had a 20 foot metal statue of a male figure carrying the earth on his back.  The earth was hollow and the round shape was shown by the latitude and longitude lines and the continents.  What would possess a person to put such a large statue of Atlas looking out at Crooked Lake?  There has to be a good story behind this.  This particular Atlas looked strong and able.  He wasn't crouched or kneeling.  Several speed boats went by at full throttle.  My kayak handled the waves pretty well. I wonder why people are in such a hurry on this tiny lake.  One especially large speed boat was pulling a water skiier.  The boat sped down into the narrow north end of the lake and realized he had no room to turn around without going into the weeds.  He suddenly cut the engine and I worried that the skiier would ski right into the propeller but the boater turned to the side so the skiier came to the side of the boat.  Crazy driver!  Within an hour, my circular tour of Crooked Lake was over. I stuffed the kayak back in the trunk, tied my red scarf to the end hanging out, and drove home feeling exercised, energized and reinvigorated from my boating excursion.   

Monarchs

Yesterday a sibling and I (exhausted from the frog and toad survey the night before) went to a Monarch class at the University of Minnesota-St. Paul campus. Lucky for everyone, most of the class was hands on experiences which made it easier to stay awake.  We learned how to identify monarch eggs, the five stages of larvae, and the pupae.  Every time someone said pupae I wanted to giggle.  Each stage of the larvae is called an instar.  Don't confuse it with the navigation device called Onstar, they're different.  The first caterpillar that comes out of the egg is called instar 1.  The last stage, the caterpillar that changes into a pupae, is called instar 5.  We learned how to identify each of the five instars.  The caterpillar in the photo I took is an instar 5.  I know this because the tentacles on the head are long and droopy.  In the afternoon we went out to the gardens off Cleveland and Larpenteur to find eggs and isntars on milkweed plants.  We also learned how to estimate the density of milkweed plants in a field.  Now we know enough about monarchs to participate in the Monarch Larvae Monitoring Project.  All we need is a location that we can access weekly through the summer and fall that has at least 10 milkweed plants.  So I went home and counted all the milkweed plants on my property.  Success!  I found 20 plants.  I even found a monarch egg on one of the plants.  I brought the monarch egg inside and I hope to be able to watch it grow up to be a butterfly.  What a great citizen science volunteer job for me - check the 20 milkweed plants on my property every week and look for eggs and instars and pupae and butterflies.  Sounds great to me.

Frog and Toad Survey

Somebody got a new frog net.

She is making some of the cows nervous.

Our route is so deserted we found a skull at one of our stops.  A deer skull?  We also found some vertebrae.

We brought a new recruit on our frog survey last night and she brought us to a new level of activity, fun and energy.  Was it that Mountain Dew she drank with dinner?  We laughed so hard our stomach's hurt.  By the end of the route, she could identify all the frogs we were hearing - mostly green tree frogs, some peepers, some chorus frogs and some peepers.  We saw a few lightening bugs.  We heard some veery's and one barred owl.

Frog and Toad Survey #2 Tonight

Lets hope we don't get stuck.