Smokey the Bear - Nature's Rock Star

On Sunday I had the opportunity to be Smokey the Bear at the Minnesota State Fair. The first thing I had to do was get dressed. Smokey needs help getting dressed. It's not something someone can do by themselves. My assistant was Offspring #2 and she was a great mascot handler.  First Smokey puts on an incredibly large pair of jeans-possibly a 50 inch waist. Then I needed help getting my bear feet on. The hairy feet fit over my tennis shoes were secured with a velcro seam and a hook and eye. Next came the hairy chest. I extended my arms over my head and bent forward. The chest came down to my knees and had reinforcements inside to maintain the bear barrel chested contours. The chest velcroed up the back. Next the jeans were velcroed to the sides of the chest before we closed the button on the jeans, zipped up the fly, and secured the belt. The belt buckle says “Smokey.” The bear chest was tucked neatly into the jeans. I found my fingers inside the bear paws. So far so good. At this point I walked the stairs of the DNR building and waited inside the exit door to don my bear head. The fur on the head hangs down around the neck and rested on my shoulders. The hat is attached to the head. Inside I was immediately hot under all that fur. My vision was severely restricted. I could see ahead except for the middle. I could see a little bit to the lower right and the lower left. I think I was looking out of Smokey's muzzle and mouth. We were ready to be Smokey. We were ready 15 minutes ahead of our shift but decided to go out anyway. My assistant led me by the bear paw to the yard outside the DNR building, in the shadow of the forest tower. People immediately approached us and asked to have their picture taken. One family approached and the kids looked up at me with awe. Their parents encouraged them, “Go say hi to Smokey.” I waved. The kids waved back. I opened my arms asking for a hug and the kids ran to me and embraced me. The hug felt so great that this became my modus operadi for the rest of my Smokey shift. Smokey is popular. Smokey is nature's rock star. At this moment, I am Smokey. I am popular. Everybody (except 1 year old kids) loves me. I am nature's rock star. The fame went to my head immediately. When my shift was over and I emerged from the DNR building again, no one turned to look at me. No one waved. No one wanted a hug or a photo. I felt so – so – so ordinary. It was a real let down. Inside Smokey's body, I was super hot. Sweat ran into my eyes as I posed for photos, gave high fives and fist bumps, and waved to my adoring audience. After 45 minutes of this I needed a break. My handler led me into the DNR building where out of sight I could remove my head, get a drink, and wipe the sweat off my face. She asked me a question and I nodded. I forgot that now, inside the building, I could talk. I got used to Smokey not talking and only nodding. Even nodding isn't easy for Smokey because I could turn my head left and right and Smokey's head wouldn't move. To say no, I had to turn my head and shoulders to make myself clear. I put my hand towel on top of my head before I put Smokey's head back on. A man was sitting alone at the picnic table by the door to the DNR building that we used. He looked to be in his 40's and was relaxing at the picnic table and not paying enough attention to Smokey in my estimation. So as I excited the building, Smokey tapped his left shoulder as I walked past his right shoulder. This caused him to look left, see no one, and then look right as Smokey walked away. He, he he. I, myself, would never have been this bold with a total stranger. As Smokey, I didn't hesitate to do it. Being anonymous inside a costume relaxes my inhibitions quite a bit. I even blew kisses to my crowds. For another half hour I greeted my fans and mixed with the public. Sometimes my handler would say, “High five on the right.” I couldn't see anyone on the right holding up their hand but she could. Those directions were extremely helpful because Smokey wouldn't ignore a high five if he saw it. Sometimes my handler would say “small boy approaching on the left.” That was helpful too because some of those children would run at me full speed, hug me, lift their feet off the ground and cling to me, nearly knocking me over. One time two kids jumped on me at the same time and I nearly did go over. Some kids hugged me so hard they squeezed the Smokey torso tight and they pressed the vest full of ice packs close to me. That ice packs felt really good. My handler told me it was noon and Smokey's job was complete. She led me to the door. I was ready to be done. I was drenched with sweat from the waist up. I took off the head, and clumsily walked up the 18 wooden steps to the loft above the fish tanks where Smokey changes his clothes. Normally there are 2 or 3 DNR workers in this area. But not today when I need to take off my Smokey clothes. Today there are 8 officers in full uniform lounging on the couches. Some were St. Paul police and some were State Fair police. Great. I have to undress in front of 8 cops. After the head, the next thing to come off is the pants. As my handler crouched to open my Smokey belt, undo my jeans button and pull down my fly I wondered if this could get any more awkward. My hands were still encased in bear arms so I could only stand there helpless as my giant jeans puddled around my ankles. She undid the back of my torso and I bent forward with arms extended so she could pull it off. Then I had to shuffle awkwardly, in front of all these cops, with my jeans around my feet to a chair so I could sit down and have my bear feet removed. The cops were asking, “Hey, was it hot in there?” My handler pulled off my feet and my tennis shoes came off with them. I put my shoes back on while she set my costume in front of the fans and sprayed them with Lysol. I removed my vest and took the 8 ice packs out of the pockets and laid them flat inside the freezer to refreeze. They were slightly cool by now but not at all frozen. We hung the vest up to dry and I tried to style my dripping wet hair with my fingers. I stepped in between the cops to grab my backpack, filled up my water jug, and we went outside. We had an hour to rest before she was Smokey and I was the handler. We sat at the picnic table by the door and I drank the entire contents of that water jug while she went to buy a most delicious crepe filled with Brie, cranberries and almonds. No crepe has ever tasted that good before. Soon we were back at it. This time I helped Smokey put on his pants, feet, ice pack vest, and torso. I made sure Smokey's obese torso was tucked neatly into his jeans because it we didn't get it right, Smokey looked like he had an abdominal hernia. I led Smokey down the stairs, put on his head, and spread his neck fur neatly over his shoulders. I led Smokey around the grounds and told him who was approaching. When we first exited the building, I forgot who I was and started waving at people. It took me a while to give up the nature rock star role and turn into a lowly handler. People asked me to take pictures with their cameras and phones. One lady handed me an Iphone. I asked her where the button was to push. I had never held an Iphone before. “Oh,”she says, “It's your typical Iphone.” Like that was helpful. The button to take the photo is an image on the screen. One girl (pierced, tattood and with gauged ear holes) ran up to Smokey enthusiastically and said, “Smokey! I have a question for you!” I told her Smokey can't talk. “That's too bad”, she said, “because I wanted to know if Smokey would hold me off the ground in his arms while we posed for a photo like he was rescuing me. I'll pay extra for it.” I told Smokey did not think that was safe and would not do it. This girl weighed more than the person inside the Smokey costume so I made an executive decision. Smokey told me I made a good choice once he/she was out of costume and could talk. The enthusiastic girl, although disappointed, posed for a photo with Smokey with both her feet on the ground. Another outdoorsy woman approached Smokey and said, “Hi. Remember me? Yosemite National Park? 1975?” Her eyebrows were raised suggestively. Just what was this woman implying here? Smokey was caught a little off guard. Smokey shook his head no and raised his hands implying no memory. She smiled, touched his chin, and said, “Well, I remember you.” Good lord, it makes you wonder. Smokey seemed to be enjoying his fame. He posed for more pictures. Many people said, “Smile Smokey.” or “Smokey you blinked.” It's a little funny the first time you hear it but not after that. After a half hour Smokey was ready for a break. As I led Smokey through the DNR building toward our changing area, more people approached for photos. I could hardly get Smokey away from his adoring public. Ten minutes later I took off Smokey's head and gave her a drink. Back out on the grounds again, I made sure Smokey stayed in the shade and we looked for cooler spots. A couple men approached asking to pose with Smokey. They handed me a camera. I thought the photo was with two men but two, then four, then eight men in total stood around Smokey. As I shot the photo I noticed most of them were wearing t shirts advocating “Vote no on the marriage amendment.” All these guys were bigger, hairy, and, I think, gay. I was taking a photo of Smokey and the bears! Awesome. I bet Smokey was on tons of Facebook pages later on this Sunday.  As I helped Smokey out of his bear suit, I noticed she didn't have 8 cops watching her get undressed.  To be Smokey and to be Smokey's handler was a intense pleasure. I am definitely signing up again next year. When our duties were done, we walked around the fair some more. My knees hurt, my hips ached and my back hurt the entire time except for when I was Smokey or Smokey's handler. When I was on duty, my arthritis didn't bother me at all.

Can Hardly Wait

Tomorrow, at the Minnesota State Fair, I get to be Smokey the Bear.  I can hardly wait to put on those big boots, the jeans, the hairy top and the head piece with the big hat before meeting the public.  Oh, it is so liberating to be anonymous inside a costume. 

Interpreter of Maladies

I read Jhumpa Lahiri's Interpreter of Maladies and was sad to see it end.  This collection of short stories is like ordering a sample plate of appetizers.  Each story was compelling and ended before I was ready to let the characters go.  I think this book is a beautiful and comfortable way to learn about life in Calcutta, life of Bengali immigrants to Cambridge, Massachusetts, poverty, wearing sari's, and life in general. I highly recommend this book if you're in the mood for a collection of short stories.

Other Bad Poetry Submission

This is a little poem a group of us made up while we were eating lunch in the breakroom.

"Keys"
Bad day ahead, I forgot my keys
I can't get in the door.
I knock.  No response.  It sticks in my craw.
They think I'm ***** ****
I stand there like a doofus, no coffee for me
It's my own fault.  I forgot my key.

*** is the name of a person who's name I cannot reveal but rhymes with craw.

Someone I Have Admired

I've always admired Miss Valerie Frizzle. She was a teacher and she drove the Magic School Bus.  She took her kids on magical field trips to outer space, inside the human body, through the city water system, to the ocean floor, and back to the time of dinosaurs.  She was fearless and adventurous. And she had red, curly hair - what is not to like about that?  She got her students excited.  Some of her students were excited by the topic and others feared for their lives.  It makes you wonder, did she get permission slips for all these field trips?

My Submission for the Bad Poetry Contest at Work

Ode to Paperwork

Paperwork is the work that gives me thrills

Paperwork, paperwork, it pays the bills

Return from vacation, mailbox full to the top

That means my job is too essential to drop

On a really good day I get a lot done

Tony has to hole punch a full metric ton

A metric ton, now that’s exaggeration

A solid six inches is a closer estimation

One sided, two sided, stapled and sort

Annuals and semi’s, post meeting report

Now that I’m older I prefer larger print

Anything too small causes me to squint

Upper left corner is where paperclips belong

Middle of the left side?  That is just wrong!

Sign it, date it, fill in all the blanks

What keeps me busy?  Paperwork!  Thanks.

I also co-wrote another poem with 3 other co-workers that I will put on this blog as soon as I can find it again.

Bluff Country Travels

After our tour of Niagara Cave we stopped for lunch in Harmony.  We had lunch at a very nice restaurant called Quarter Quarter.  The food was organic, sustainable and local.  I had two appetizers - a caprise salad served in a martini glass and a sweet corn/potato chowder.  If I ever get back to Harmony, I would go to this restaurant again.  After that we wandered around with no real destination in mind.  We hiked for a while on the Harmony-Preston state bike trail.  We stopped in Lanesboro and rented a surrey with fringe on the top.  The state bike trail through Lanesboro was very busy and we were constantly hearing "On your left!" as we pedaled slowly along.  This monstrosity of a surrey was very heavy and we had to pedal even going down hill.  But we had fun.  We explored the Root River for a while and watched the tubers and kayakers go by.  We drove east on Highway 16 all the way to LaCrescent before heading north on Highway 61.  We followed the Mississippi all the way home.  Saturday was a great day for a drive in the country.

My Very Own Limerick

There once was a QMRP

Who sent lots of meetings to me

My IN box was filling

So I’d say I was willing

To attend them

So she’d let me be.  J

A coworker wrote a limerick to me because I invite him to a lot of meetings via the Outlook Calendar program.  This is the only limerick I've ever had written about me.  I love it.  And I will still send him emails inviting him to more meetings.  We're having a "Bad Poem" contest here at work.  I will post my entry later.

Niagara Cave

flowstone

Cold, narrow and dark down here.

We took a Saturday drive to the bluff lands of south eastern Minnesota on Saturday.  Our first and only firmly planned stop was Niagara Cave near Harmony, MN.  We were the first group to tour the cave that day and we had a tour guide named Leah all to ourselves.  This cave is worth the 2.5 hour drive from the cities and the $11 fee.  We were down there for about an hour and walked the mile long length of the cave.  The walkways, although narrow and low at times, were smoother and easier to walk than other caves I have looked at.  We saw flow stone, Stewartville limestone, stalactites, stalagmites, and all kinds of strange rocks.  A 60 foot waterfall is inside the cave.  The amount of water on this waterfall is less than what your kitchen faucet can put out but it's still beautiful.  It's fun to explore beneath the ground.  Our tour guide extinguished all the lights at the end of the tour so we could get some idea of what it is like to be in the real dark.  She said that after a few months, our eyes would quit looking for light and we would go blind.  That made me think of those miners in Chile. I cannot imagine the terror they went through.  This cave has no bats.  The only entrance is inside a building so the bats have no way of getting down there.  The passages were excavated by hand with most of the work being done during the Depression years.  That was before we had strong lanterns and led lights.  I was glad to have the chance to visit this awesome cave.

Chicken Feet Creep Me Out

My new chicks are Buff Orpingtons.  They differ from the Americauna chicks like Meredith.  They're bigger and they lay brown eggs instead of green.  Americauna chickens have greenish blue legs and ears and feet.  These Orpingtons  do not have green or blue legs.  Their legs are, what, flesh colored?  They kinda creep me out.  The color is too close to human flesh for my comfort.  Or maybe it's because the Orpington chicken feet look like alien hands.  Look at those nails and how the toes bend.  They could be Martian hands.  I can hardly stand to look at their feet I get so creeped out.  Other than the color of the feet, I am happy with the chicks.  They're all healthy and growing up fast.  They act docile and they're nice to Meredith.  They don't wander too far.  When it gets dark, they're pretty good about going inside the coop.  Aside from the creepy human/alien feet, I like my chicks.

Compost Pays

I saw something beside my compost bin as I was washing dishes.  With a bag of fresh banana and onion peels in my hand I went out to investigate.  There, growing out of the compost bin, was a squash plant.  Deer had eaten most of the leaves of the squash plant but I did have one butternut squash growing.  How awesome is that?  I didn't buy butternut squash seeds.  I didn't plant this plant.  Last winter, when I was cold and in need of a low calorie warm soup, I bought a butternut squash.  I threw the seeds and the rind in the compost.  At least one butternut squash seed must have liked the compost environment and decided to propagate.  Free squash for me!

Herping

Mink frog

Last night my Master Naturalist group had a session on animals in the herptile family.  Our instructor was a young guy who at first I mistook for a child of one of our members.  I guess I don't think of such young guys in jeans with gauged earrings and a tongue piercing as DNR biologists specializing in herptiles but now I know.  He had a power point presentation but decided we should do the field work first because of the impending rain and darkness.  So at 6:30 we carpooled.  We were led into a section of Carlos Avery Wildlife Management Area that was fenced off and padlocked shut.  Right away I knew this was going to be fun because we got to go inside a locked area that other people can't get to.  Our speaker had set out some minnow traps and turtle traps in some wetlands next to the very sandy road.  I was glad I rode with someone else because my Honda would have probably gotten stuck.  In the first minnow trap he found a painted turtle and a mink frog.  The mink frog was cool.  The reason they're called mink frogs is because they smell musky.  I smelled the fingers of someone else who touched it and I could pick up a slight musky, oniony stink.  This is the first mink frog I've ever seen.  The mink frog, more than other frogs, spends time in the water.  If you see a frog in Minnesota on a lily pad, it's more than likely a mink frog.  The painted turtle was also cool.  We caught at least eight in the traps tonight. He had about 12 or more traps set out.  The way to tell a male from a female painted turtle is that the male has longer fingernails once they're sexually mature.  Where male frogs croak loud and long to attract a mate, male painted turtles show off their long claws.  They actually dance and display their claws in front of the female hoping she'll think their claws are long enough to suit her.  I guess it's not so strange.  I've heard men with long fingers well, we don't need to go there.  Inside the traps we also caught a couple crayfish and two predacious diving beetles.  Those diving beetles looked like 4  to 5 inch cockroaches with extra legs - the stuff of which nightmares are made.  They were nasty looking and behaved very aggressively.  And they bite hard.  In the final turtle trap was the jewel of our herping session - a Blanding turtle that was 50 to 60 years old.  He weighed about 7 pounds. We knew he was a male because his underside (plaston) was concave.  It's possible he is older than I am.  Our group posed for a photo with the Blanding turtle.  Lets hope I don't get in trouble for that.  It is illegal in Minnesota to touch Blandings because they are a threatened species unless you are helping it across the road or taking it to a wildlife rehabilitation center because it is injured.  And if you are helping it across the road, take it in the direction it was headed because it has a destination in mind even if you don't agree it's a good idea to go that way.  By the time we finished with the traps our evening was over.  Some people stayed later for the power point session but I had to get going.  What a great night.  One man who had never been to a meeting before asked me, "Are all your meeting this much fun?"  I was happy to answer, "Yes, most of the them are."

Books

Last night was my night to present books to my book club.  Usually we choose 5 to 8 books and let the group decide which one they want to read.   I had a hard time narrowing my list down this year.  There are so many books that I have enjoyed.  I don't want to choose one the group has read before.  We keep a list and the list is long because they've read 12 books a year for over 30 years.  We want to choose a book that is available in paperback.  Most members buy their copy from Internet book sells like Amazon.  After much agonizing, these are the six books I chose:  The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (and I'm a little disappointed this one didn't get top vote), The Beginner's Goodbye by Anne Tyler (the winner), The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Sharak, Light in the Forest by Conrad Richter, The Adventures of Augie March by Saul Bellow (also disappointed that this one didn't win), and Solar by Ian McEwen.  I wanted to offer a variety.  Some are long.  Others are short.  Some are meaty.  Others are easy reading.  I suppose if I really wanted the group to do the Gatsby, I could have put that on the list with a couple other really terrible choices and then I would have gotten my way but I don't want to be that controlling and I don't want to run the risk of them choosing something I really don't like.  The book club votes twice.  The first round of voting enables members to vote for as many books as they want.  We narrow it down to the top three vote getters.  One the second round of voting, each book club member has only one vote.  So now I'll be researching Anne Tyler and rereading The Beginner's Goodbye.    I believe it's the kind of book most people in the group will enjoy.

Kestrel

I've noticed a kestrel in my neighborhood.  He sits on a wire overlooking a grassy park.  He stares intently a the ground looking, I suppose, for a meal of mice, grasshoppers, moths or voles.  With their keen vision and ability to see ultraviolet light, they can see the line of urine that a mouse or vole has left behind.  The kestrel will be gone for a couple weeks and then return to the same spot.  Does he eat all the food in sight and then go to another spot for a couple weeks while the populations of mice and grasshoppers recovers?  I drive by this spot only twice a day so my sampling is not very thorough.  I enjoy seeing him though.  I'm glad my neighborhood has enough diversity and habitat to support a fierce predator like a kestrel.  

Diamond Lake

Yesterday I took a little kayak trip around Diamond Lake in either Champlin or Dayton, I'm not sure.  I've been to this lake before during bird class but never on it before.  And I did see lots of birds there - tree swallows, barn swallows, cedar waxwings, Canadian geese, bald eagle, blue winged teal, pelicans, double crested cormorants, ringed billed gulls, blue jays and cardinals.  The pelicans were at the far end of the lake from where I put in on South Diamond Lake Road.  I paddled over to them.  They were standing on a sandbar in a couple inches of water with some gulls and cormorants.  As I got silently and slowly closer, the cormorants and gulls freaked out and flew away so i didn't come any closer.  I figured it takes a lot of energy to get a pelican up in the air and a closer view wasn't worth their energy.  The water of Diamond Lake is much more shallow than I expected.  Many times I had to kayak over weed beds.  I could feel the thick bed of weeds scrape the bottom of the boat.  Dragon flies and damselflies were thick over the weed beds. Some weed beds were so thick that swallows and some kind of shorebird could be seen walking back and forth on top.  The wind was non-existent and the lake was as smooth as a mirror.  I was alone on the lake.  I had the whole place to myself.  A few houses are visible but most of the shore line is not developed.  This is a lake I will want to come back and visit again.

Didn't Work Out

Today I had plans for an awesome bike ride to Noerumburg Gardens and around Lake Minnetonka.  A friend and I had the entire route plotted out.  This morning my friend had to bail on the trip because of illness but I thought I would go ahead anyway.  I took the nine pages of google directions and condensed them to two pages.  One page was to the gardens and the second page was around the lake and home again.  I taped the pages to the gas tank so I could read the directions without pulling over to stop.  All set to go.  I was putting on my jacket when I looked down at the back of my bike to see, to my horror, my license plate was missing. A month earlier I had noticed a tear in the license plate after I had the bike serviced.  I bent the plate flat and didn't think much more about it.  Who would think the wind would tear the metal of a license plate?  I guess it is possible that someone came by and ripped it off by hand.  I have no idea how long the plate has been missing.  I wasn't comfortable completing a 100+ mile trip without a license plate.  Surely some officer would pull me over and I would have some explaining to do.  I have the registration papers that show I paid for my yearly sticker but I am guessing I could still get a citation.  I drove to the license bureau this morning hoping they would be open on Saturday. No such luck.  The bike trip today is just not going to work out.  Plan B?  To be determined.

Love Biking South in the Summer

Early morning rides in August are the best.  The cool wind zips up my sleeves.  The motorcycle cuts through the fog hanging over the road near wetlands.  I can feel the temperature drop in the low elevations and rise at the tops of hills.  Traffic is light because school is out.  People seem to be in less of a hurry.  And best of all, when I bike south, where the sun shines in between the trees I can see my shadow on my right.  The lowest part of my image (the wheels) are elongated.  I looked like a big wheeled, tiny headed biker.

Why?

Got a question for you.

Why do hens lay eggs?

Answer:  Because if she dropped them they would break.

Feels Like Monday

Yesterday I took a day off work to go paddling down the St. Croix River.  I had such a good time that today feels like Monday again.  I got home last night close to 9 p.m., exhausted and satisfied.  Like we have done every year for nearly 20 years, we took a day to paddle from Interstate State Park downstream. This year we did the six hour/19 mile trip to William O'Brien State Park.  We stopped for lunch and for a break at the Osceola landing and we still finished in about 5 hours.  The weather was perfect.  We had a high of about 80 and low humidity.  The wind was light, intermittent and always at our backs, helping us down river.  We were the only customers to take the six hour trip today.  Our group totalled 8 people. We used two canoes and two kayaks. I split my boating between a canoe and a kayak.  The kayak has better support for my back and I find it easier to steer.  I didn't want the trip to end so I went super slowly for the last mile.  Four osprey were on the nest on the railroad bridge between Osceola and Copas.  We got a close up view of them.  Eagles flew overhead and vultures circled above us.  Cedar waxwings flew above the water catching bugs and bringing them back to shore.  My nephew took the photo above which is at my favorite part and where we usually have lunch.  I love the steep cliff walls here.  Tiny cedar trees cling to the rock face and try to survive.  And if you do the Tarzan yell or ululate at this spot you can hear an echo.  This annual canoe trip is part of what makes my summer complete.

Google

From Bits and Pieces

Lead Hand

Today a friend and I went for a motorcycle ride.  As I drove to her house in Andover, the traffic was light and the air was cool and crisp.  I checked my speedometer and every time I did I had to slow down.  I had a lead hand (which is equivalent to a lead foot in a car).  We drove through Coon Rapids, Blaine, Moundsview, Shoreview, White Bear Lake, Hugo, Marine on the St. Croix,  and Osceola before stopping for lunch.  Then we headed north up the Wisconsin side of the St. Croix through Dresser to St. Croix Falls.  In Taylors Falls, we stopped at the overlook on the north side of town.  The view of Taylors Falls from the overlook is well worth the time. I was surprised to see how wide the river is upstream of the town.  We stayed on Highway 95 through North Branch and Cambridge before heading south on Highway 47 through St. Francis and Anoka.  I wore two long sleeved shirts under my jacket plus leather gloves and felt comfortable driving on this beautiful day.

Lucky

I am lucky.  Lucky to have the kind of friend who I can e-mail Friday afternoon and make plans to kayak on Saturday morning.  Lucky to have the kind of friend who doesn't mind kayaking in the rain. We took off this morning from a regional park off of Highway 35W and County Road I in Moundsview.  We paddled Rice Creek.  What an awesome trip.  The creek twists and turns.  Our job is not really to paddle but more to steer clear of sand bars, downed trees and bridge abutments.  We paddled under Highway 35 W and under Highway 10.  Under the bridge, we're in a long, dark, concrete tube that reminds me of "Ye Old Mill" at the state fair.  After each bridge, we ran into some white water where the concrete apron ended and the creek bottom began.  We were so busy handling obstacles and steering that we could hardly keep a conversation going.  A great blue heron flew off in front of us for at least a mile before it landed at the top of a dead tree and pretended to be a statue while we went by.  We saw kingfishers, tree swallows, 5 muskrats, and a family of blue winged teal.  At one point a barred owl flew over the creek in front of us.  The grassy bank was too tall for us to see where it went.  We came around one bend and saw a speckled fawn drinking water.  It froze and looked at us until we came closer when it jumped up the bank and into the high grass to join it's twin.  The rain came down a little harder as we entered Long Lake in New Brighton but we didn't mind.  We paddled the length of the lake to the boat landing near Highway 694.    The entire ride took about two hours.  What a great way to spend a rainy Saturday morning - much better than sleeping in.

Paddleboard Yoga

During the Mississippi River Challenge they offer various activities at Fort Snelling.  We can have dinner, music, dancing, Surly beer, massages, yoga and paddle board yoga.  When I first heard about paddle board yoga, I assumed the paddle boards would be on the ground.  I knew the paddle board yoga class was at 6:15 a.m. and I saw the truck with about a dozen paddle boards parked inside the fort.  Later I learned that the paddle board yoga class was not taught on the firm earth but down the hill on the Mississippi River.  Say what?  Yoga on a board in the water?  That is crazy!  I have taken yoga classes before.  Even with bare feet on a soft yoga mat I have lost my balance.  I never fell completely down but I did have to put my foot down quickly.  Outside of child's pose or possibly the plank, I can't see myself doing yoga on a paddle board without going overboard.  My plan was to observe this paddle board yoga if I happened to be awake and up at 6:15.  I was awake at 6:15 but the gentle, steady rain that was falling changed my mind.  I think the class was cancelled.

Time To Move The Coop

Every week I move the chickens and the chicken coop to a new location. They like the fresh grass. With this hot weather, I've been keeping the coop under the thickly leaved basswood tree so they can stay cooler. I am going to have to move it. Last night I let the chickens out to roam. At bedtime only one chick plus Meredith went inside the coop. Four others were wandering around. Once they saw the door open with Meredith inside, they went inside too. I looked around for the sixth chick. She wasn't inside the coop. She wasn't inside the run. She wasn't under the coop. She wasn't anywhere around the coop. I shut the door on the chicks that were in the coop, stood straight, rested my hands on my hips and tried to think. My eye caught a bit of movement in the tree branch high above the coop. There was the last chick, perched in the basswood tree on a branch higher than I could reach. In order to reach the chick and carry her I had to pull down on the end of the branch. That left only one hand available for grabbing. Both the chickens and I prefer the two handed grab. It's more comfortable to put my hands under their wings and support the body. I tried to pull the branch down with my teeth but I couldn't get it down far enough. So I ended up pulling the branch down with my right hand and grabbing the chicken with the left hand. This was not a graceful moment for me and not a graceful moment for the chick. Tonight the coop is moving farther away from the limbs of the basswood tree. I am grateful that chick didn't try to climb up any higher!

Even More Laughs

If you need cheering up or to feel a smile upon your face, get this book.  It was hilarious.  A. Gut. Buster.  And just what I needed.