Baby Bird Assembly Line

Teenaged Common Grackle, like any kid, they're always hungry.
At least he isn't asking to borrow the car keys.

I think we have one in our yard.

So far this season I have seen fledglings of at least 13 species, House Finch, American Robin, Blue Jay, Tufted Titmouse, Baltimore Oriole, Northern Cardinal, Eastern Phoebe, European Starling, Common Grackle, Downy Woodpecker, White-breasted Nuthatch, Grey Catbird, and Yellow Warbler.

Baltimore Oriole fledgling bugging dad for bugs
 in the mulberry tree.

I am sure there have been more that I missed or forgot, and the Red-eyed Vireo has taken to singing from hours from the top of our poor old Ash tree, which finally succumbed to the borer, so he will probably be raising kids soon. 

It makes for a noisy, busy, yard, particularly when they are teaching the babies to use the feeders...especially when you add the little foxes and Ralph's traveling chipmunk show.

Lots of fun!

Take a Break

 

Portents

 

Sky a tumble of thunder, slashed by lightning like angry beast claws this morning. It woke me quarter to four AM, thus out to walk the dog in the fragile darkness that broke so easily under the storm.

No sojourn in his 10X10 concrete-floored, Dogloo full of straw, with a big bucket of clean water equipped run for old Mack this morning. There was another episode of the mutt vs marmot unrest last night. At this point the score stands at Mack 2, marmota monax 0.

Which is fine I guess, although I had to figure out how the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks the damned things were getting through the chain link. Not hard to see once I went out with the big light. Over the past few days something has dug the wire support up off the floor on one whole side of the run. Thus, the dog is inside the house for the day and big repairs are in order. Since the run was built for Mike the Border Collie GOAT of my life, way BITD, I guess I can't complain, but dang!!! I hate a woodchuck anyhow.

I was cleaning up a weedy patch, digging out some old half barrel flower bed thingies, and generally nicening up the yard the other day and found where they had burrowed under them. This was about three feet from the nearest tomato plant and a few yards from the beans and lettuce. Opportunism at its finest. I filled the hole with rocks and cleared everything around it so it is no longer hidden, but dang!, just dang! And now they have taken their show up the hill to my poor old dog's run.

The storm has broken, it's raining, lightly, at least, not the torrents that usually accompany thunder storms. However, the trip to the Burbine forest I was contemplating for dawn or so is out of the question and probably not much other than reading the news and discussing same will get done today. First robins are chattering along the driveway and there is some sort of light to the Northeast of us. Sunrise maybe I guess, could be. Have a good one and keep your batteries charged and your pantries stocked. The dog  and rodent follies aren't the only show in town these days.

Surprise!

Somewhat blurry Common Gallinule chick

The first thing on your dance card today is adventure and it's gonna last all day.

I had no idea yesterday when we set out to take Liz to work and buy a spark plug for the John Deere weed eater, that retirement could be so exciting. At the sparking plug store the guy told Ralph he would have to come back in a couple of hours as the plug was in another town but they would get it.

Mama COGA

I was not pleased and made my feelings known. I envisioned hours of boredom in the other end of the county waiting for something that was far from an emergency. In case you didn't know it, I am a terribly grumpy person and don't do patience well.

Female Red-winged Blackbird carrying food to the kiddos

The boss dangled a visit to Cline Rd. Marsh in front of my snapping and snarling countenance and I somewhat reluctantly found myself appeased.

We proceeded to Oppenheim and I was strapping on my gear when a bird appeared in the middle of the road. A Common Gallinule! I have been trying all spring to get a photo of one, as we had heard them almost every single visit. And there she was. I grabbed some shots and looked back down to buckle up bins and sling on the camera.

"Chicks!" the boss exclaimed. And there were, FIVE of them! They scuttled across the road behind mama and I grabbed some blurry shots. I was pretty sure that I had heard chicks among the phragmites last week and here was proof that gallinules are breeding on the marsh.

Exciting!

Also quite startling was this large Northern Water Snake

I spotted what looked like a loop of rubber hose among the rushes
but it turned out to be this guy.

Also exciting were the 39 other species I encountered in the next hour and six minutes. The marsh was alive with song and flight. I regretted my grump intensely...as usual.

Green Heron

I was just finishing up...standing beside the car chatting to the boss with my back to him while I tried to record the gallinules when he exclaimed again.

Da Bear vanishing into the woods
right by Donnie and Hope's house!

"A bear! A bear! A bear!" He could barely get the words out.

I spun around and tried to get a photo but ursus wasn't picking any daisies. Five minutes before I had been standing right where that bear was!

We packed up and took the tour around the loop road where we encountered some furious Swamp Sparrows guarding a nest and a Mourning Warbler, a first in the county for me.

Then we returned home for a relatively peaceful rest of the day...

Until just the edge of dark, which comes pretty late these days. 

I went out to bring Mack down from his kennel for his dinner. As usual it takes a really swift grab to get the leash on his collar and I almost missed him. He was really excited. Since something has been drinking all the water out of his bucket every night, I turned to latch the door back closed. There was.....something....gazing up at me from the concrete floor of his run.

I put the light on it. A very dead, utterly disemboweled, woodchuck. He is a terrier. It's what they do. It wasn't a pup either. (Neither is he! He's 11, all grey in the face and looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth but he has the terrier instinct and it isn't hard to trigger.) It made a hefty load in the shovel when I took care of the mess after I took the dog down to the house for his dinner...because I may be a grump but I don't whine for a guy to deal with things like that even though it sure was a nasty mess.

Anyhow, from daylight to no light yesterday was quite a day. I am ready for some quiet today....maybe...

And that's one woodchuck that won't be eating my beans and lettuce this year.

TBRaC

If you are a reader...I mean, a serious reader who absolutely cannot leave home without a book...or even two (sure is handy having thousands right there on your phone)...you know that TBR means to be read.

Of course I have a TBR list on the phone. And I belong to an ARC group (that's Advance Reader Copy) wherefrom I get books to read just for the price of reviewing them. Some of them are truly terrible and get DNFed (that's did not finish-life is too short to read bad books.) However, I have stumbled upon some real gems and found some awesome new authors in that manner. 

However, I have an extra-special TBR pile. It is of actual books printed on paper and bound in covers and all that stuff. Digital and audio books are convenient for modern life...the phone goes where I go and so does the library. However, some truly extraordinary volumes are not available in e form (or alternately, I just don't want to buy them again, when I already own them.) Thus the TBRaC pile.

To Be Read at Camp. 

At camp I can lounge around with a good book with no need to get into a car to go anywhere or to cook if I don't want to, or do laundry, or walk the dog, etc. Reading at camp is gleefully stationary.

Thus The Sanctuary Sparrow, by Ellis Peters, The Chain of Destiny by Berry Neels, Lassie, Come Home, by Eric Knight, The Rising of the Lark, by Ann Moray, and Spindrift, by John J. Rowland in actual corporeal form, are piled by my chair, awaiting packing for our annual foray into the  Adirondacks for a week of birds, books, and bliss. I am sure others will join the pile, including The Horsemasters, by Donald S. Sanford, which Becky just purchased for me. I actually have the copy I bought from Scholastic Books back when I saved my 25-cent lunch money to buy books from the book club list they handed out in school. It is too battered by hundreds of readings to survive a trip to the woods. 

TBRaC, what a wonderful concept. 

Ooh, Becky just found me another Ellis Peters book to add to the pile!

Forty Years Ago Today

We grabbed a couple of our dearest friends and headed off to the JP. He must have done something right because we are still best friends and life companions. Happy Anniversary Ralphie.  (That's not some weird pagan dance up there...we were moving the bird feeders and Becky grabbed an unauthorized photo. So I stole it right back from her.)