Good Dog

A couple of days ago I was walking past the front hall bookcase when something caught my eye. It was an old spiral bound notebook I once used as a journal. I kept such a thing for quite a few years, but most of them are long lost.

However, there is this one still hanging around and just for the heck of it I took it out to see what I was doing in December of 1994.

Surprise, surprise, the kids were all down with the flu. When we lived in town they are always sick. Dozens of diesels idling all night half a block away will do that if you are asthmatic. 

One of my best cows, Frieland TE Emmy, was really sick and ended up being sold.

And on the 18th I brought home a puppy.

Mike

A good dog. It got me remembering the time he ran the heifers over me and and we had a Come To Jesus moment. He was a little better after that but I had a lot to learn.

The time he ran a cow over me, and came to lie tenderly beside me as I lay there in the snow gently describing his ancestry in highly uncomplimentary terms.

The day (after some training for both of us, mostly me) that we were loading a killer-mean Jersey bull and had to get him to help. He ran around in front of that miserable so-and-so, and swung right off his nose, then raced around behind him threatening mayhem.

The devil creature had just finished demolishing an old wooden cattle trailer right down the axels. It took Mike less than two minutes and one well-placed nose swing to put him in the sawdust shed over on the other farm, from whence we loaded him on the trailer for a trip to the auction.

And there was that one time when he and his half sister, Gael, both retired from stock work and just keeping me company while I puttered in the yard, put the heifers back in the fence all by themselves. I just stood and watched the old dogs working together so nicely.

There were other adventures too numerous to recount, but he was one of the two best dogs I ever owned, Brandy being the other one. It is kind of weird not to have a Border Collie, but Mack is a pretty good guy.

The story about the cop and the cliff

Another tale of the tailed ones

And another

If you are interested in still more, just type "Mike" in the search box above. He made a great difference in my life.

A Tale of Two Checklists

There is a field we visit here in our home county, which up until recently was a communal roost for Northern Harriers and Short-eared Owls.

In 2023 we saw 23 of the former in the field, soaring in to roost on the fence or crouching down in the short brush. (Checklist with photos:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S129462371) On other nights there were at least five owls with them.

Last year we spotted a handful.

Yesterday there was one. (Checklist with Photos: https://ebird.org/checklist/S1294623710

No owls at all.

Ain't development fun....

Numbers Game

These Trumpeter Swans did not make our trip list
Out of territory and all
But they were just as exciting for me

I love Christmas Bird Counts. I can't say for sure how many years I have participated, but I have been married to Ralph for 40 years and they predate him on my dance card.

Black Ducks
Hooray for open water
Always a treasure on CBCs

Monday I joined the Montezuma count for the second time, which is a terrific honor for me. It required 4 1/2 hours of hiking through snow that ran around a foot deep and a close encounter of the really, really, really embarrassing kind with a scary bridge with which I would not be Facebook friends  even if it sent me a request, but I loved it. Sometimes I wondered if I would make it back to the car, but it is what I do...and really, it was great fun.

Cardinalis Cardinalis, looking for all the world like
a Christmas ornament

Highlights were an amazing Gray Catbird that my birding friend and mentor, George Steele, spotted on Howland Island, finding a Winter Wren myself (that is always a thrill for me) and meeting and getting to bird with Jim Eckler, who is a really cool guy.

Montezuma is a fabulous, ever-changing, ever-fascinating, wild, wonderful place, that rarely disappoints. It was a lot of fun to visit it with people who are truly familiar with all its faces and facets, and to see it in an unfamiliar season. Of course it's always fun to count birds...see above...

Waiting, yet again, for me to catch up

Thanks to George and Jim for putting up with my slo-mo hiking, bridge squeezing and crashing, and clambering over trees handicap. Their patience was impressive. I have the potential to do five more CBCs this year if I can stay healthy and the Good Lord is willing and the Creek don't rise and all.

Happy Birding, Merry Christmas, and a very Happy New Year to all...and yes, I have a bird count on New Year's Day as well.

Walking

I walk 10000 steps per day.

Sometimes that is a breezy delight, goes by quickly, and I end up with 12 thousand or even more.

Sometimes it is tedious drudgery. I don't want to walk but I do.

There is what I call organic walking, outdoors, in nature, in pursuit of all the little birdies for my obsessive listing of same.

Taken from the car on the way to walk

Sometimes it is laps inside the house with an audio book or my playlist buzzing in my ears. My favorite books for this practice are lo-o-o-ng ones like those by W.E.B. Griffin.

I figure any kind of walking is helpful in my ever-more-challenging battle to stay active and able. 

And surely we have found some beautiful places for the former sort of stroll. (There are also spots that are less scenic, require a bit of bushwhacking, which I hate, and intense tick checks upon arriving home.)

Here are some of the good places....also if you are in the area and want to join me for a stroll in pursuit of delightful scenery and interesting birds, hit me up...seriously, I would love to share.

See the bird?

Brown Creeper

Snow Geese

Not Dead

 

Snowing hard outside the hospital. Plow trucks weaving among the outpatients, trying to keep up with the fall. The ramp is long and snowy and the steps are way up the hill..

A long  way from the tiny, bent-over lady, dressed in white much like the snow. Frail, fragile, not much taller than a child and all alone.

Struggling with her cane to get to the bottom of the ramp through the snow that was inevitably building up between the cars where the plows couldn't go.

I was watching, thinking, "will she let me help her or will she be offended if I ask?" 

Before I could decide, a man came striding down the hill.

"Ma'am can I help you?"

She protested that she was fine, although she clearly wasn't, and was glad he asked. He was firm and gently took her arm and slowly helped her up the hill to the steps, and up them to the door, where she just as firmly insisted that she could take it from there.

Seeing him helping her along, others hurried to offer their help too, but she said, "No, he's got me."

I was never so proud of him...just coming out from a less than wonderful diagnosis himself, although not as bad as it could have been...but his mama taught him right.

Chivalry is not dead, even if it is getting older fast. There were plenty of folks who warned me against marrying him, but I am sure glad that I did.

Well done....

Tree Skins