Planetary Wake-up

 

The wind fluffed his fingers through the silver on her head.

At his icy winter touch she rolled over in bed

And stumbling toward the morning light

She turned away from night.

Raised her face toward the rising bright

And set the morn alight.

A Little Breeze

 

Over the weekend, not only did my brother and his wife put four sets of brake pads and one caliper assembly on our car, (thanks, Matt and Lisa) but Matt gave me a big bucket of drill cores from a dam in Vermont.

They are maybe a handspan...my hand that is...in diameter, and range from eight inches to a foot long. 

They are solid stone.

Last night as we battened down the hatches, the boss put a tarp over some wood shavings bags in the yard that are waiting to go in the pony stalls.

He set the entire five-gallon pail on one corner of the tarp and laid individual cores on the rest.

This morning I found drill cores scattered in the driveway, with one all the way over on the other side and the tarp completely out from under the bucket (!!!!) and wrapped around a tree...

That was some wind! The overnight low was projected to ten degrees with winds gusting to 60 mph. It ended up down to five degrees right now. I slept like a baby though. Three extra blankets, with my head under them all as it was so drafty and noisy. Didn't hear a thing.

This morning even the birds that usually don't show up at the feeders until midmorning or so were there before the sun was even up.

I double fed on the ground and in the flower pot, as I brought the plastic feeders in last night to keep them from banging on things and breaking.

Seventeen Common Redpolls showed up, along with extra-large numbers of almost everything  else.

It's like January all over again.

Some people
banding American Black Ducks
at Lock 12

First Dawn Chorus 2021

 

Don't let the door hit ya...

At least nine cardinals this morning, most of them singing gloriously. Surround sound in the early grey of dawn.

I never noticed when the first real chorus occurred before, but with the NY Breeding Bird Atlas going on, I've been entering breeding codes when I see or hear them. 

Sounds as if at least a little lead has opened up down along the south shore north of the house too. I could hear Mallards and gulls hollering and whispering down there for the first time since late last year.

Small signs of impending spring, but I'll take 'em.

Breaking Up

 

No, not us. We're in it for the long haul.

But the river is another story. It was frozen a long time this winter compared to other recent, warmer, years. It rarely freezes solid in front of McDonald's down in town, allowing for great opportunities to observe Bald Eagles, multiple species of gulls including some nice rarities, and lots of ducks and geese. 

This year though, for weeks there hasn't been so much as an open pool to entertain a stray or two.

However, over the past three warmish days the ice first darkened in streaks and puddles, then the streaks ran together, and by yesterday afternoon the whole expanse was greenish, bluish, darkish, and wettish.

Will breakup today? I wouldn't be surprised. Or maybe tomorrow or the next day. But soon, very soon.

Here's hoping the resulting jumble doesn't bring ice jams and flooding. 

Meanwhile, as the waterfowl congregate at Lock 12, where there are several nice reaches of open water, so do the Bald Eagles. If you want to see some hunting and herding of waterfowl flocks numbering in the hundreds...and if your vehicle can handle mud and ice....the little lock road on the north side of the river leading west offers a great vantage point. For the county birders among us Redhead ducks are pretty reliable also. 

Who let the ̶D̶o̶g̶s̶ Horses Out

 

It appeared that these Amish horses were free and unfettered

Their owner was not terribly far away, 
but didn't seem concerned

And the snow was very deep so I don't suppose they went far.

When Valentine's Roses

 

Go BAD......

Becky bought Liz and me each a lovely bouquet of roses for the holiday. She also cooked steak dinner with berry shortcake for dessert. Nicest Valentine's Day in decades.

I have no idea what was in the flower saver packet that came with the flowers, but they lasted and lasted...until at last....they went....... 

BAD.

But I hated to see them go.....so......they were given a decent burial.

Then early this morning Mack gave them last rites in his unique and special doggie fashion. Little wretch!

Last night's snow with flash

Binocs, Camera, Action

 

What happened here?

We've been birding Lock 12 in Tribes Hill lately as that seems to be the only place besides the feeder where we have been actually seeing any birds. 

Lemme outta here

Talk about the February doldrums!

We went down for a bit yesterday afternoon, saw the usual 2 or 3 hundred or so Mallards, a scattering of American Black Ducks, Common Mergansers, a couple of Hoodies, and lots and lots of crows.

Did anyone get the number of that truck?

Where we usually walk to the east of the lock the pathway was rendered impassable by ice dripping off the eaves of the little building. However, I really wanted a look down into the whirl of water below the dam, and the open waters to the east.

A muddle of Mallards

Thus I climbed through knee-deep snow and down a steep bank to go around the building a different way. As soon as I reached my destination a flock of fifty or so crows set up a clamor in the trees across the river. What a racket! They swirled into the air and began to circle, twist, and dart quite frantically.

American Black Duck

I soon saw why. In the center of the whirling flock was a silver-grey arrow slicing through them like a knife. 

A Peregrine Falcon!

Looking west one cold bright day

It selected its chosen victim and nearly lit its feathers on fire following hot on its tail. What a show!

Above the dam

Alas for its luncheon it missed, but what a great look I got as it flew right over me.

I turned back to the river after watching it race away to the north just in time to see two birds hit the ground hard right under the crow flock, which had landed, but climbed upward yet again.

I could see that one was a Red-tailed Hawk, as it was quite stunned, and adjourned to some nearby brush to recuperate. I thought the other was a crow. 

To the east

Red-tails will take birds if they can get them. We used to have one that came every day to attempt to get pigeons out from under the eaves of the heifer barn. It would cling and flutter, quite upside down, trying to claw them out. I don't know if it ever caught one though.

After a bit the stunned hawk flew away, the other bird having vacated the scene post haste earlier.

Imagine my surprise when I viewed the...admittedly terrible...photos later and found that what I thought was a crow was an immature Red-tailed Hawk as well.

Wonder if what I saw was a territorial dispute or something else altogether. Any ideas? 

Sure was exciting anyhow. I had a happy grin the rest of the day.

A Bull Story

 

Ralph and Walebe Jewelmaker
LV for short

It was sometime during the 80s. The boss wanted to make a trip to a Holstein auction in Pennsylvania and I rode along for the experience.

And it was quite an experience too.

When we arrived in PA the sun was shining and temperatures were in the 70s....Amazing weather for March and we reveled in it. He was interested in a young bull, Hunterdon Adonis, and a cow from a family he liked. He had bid on her and a son of hers at an earlier auction and he had seen her for a big price.

Adonis was a handsome one and he decided to bid on him, but the cow was clearly sick and he was afraid to even think of hauling her all the way home on the homemade (oak) cattle rack we had recently constructed. 

However, she had a bull calf by SWD Valiant at her side, and those who know me know how highly I regarded that particular bull. I learned that from the boss you see.

He decided to see if he could buy him.

We much enjoyed the sale and ended up purchasing both bulls. I don’t remember the logistics of loading them, but they were soon up the ramp and on the way north.

Enter the blizzard.

It was a big one and it struck the minute we turned off the flat central plains of the Keystone State and ventured into the mountains. 

The winds howled and snow fell so fast that the wipers couldn't touch it. Traffic was bumper to bumper with people who had never seen a snowflake before losing their minds all over the place.

It was so brutal that we tried to find a place to park and wait it out, but we were concerned about the young bulls in the back. We stopped at a mall to try to buy a canvas to wrap the wooden rack (it was made of thick oak planks and had a roof and all) but they just told us to go away, they were closing. Without the canvas to add protection for the bulls we didn’t dare stop but drove straight on through the storm.

Conditions grew steadily worse. Being an experienced Upstate NY driver the boss was pretty successful in keeping her between the guard rails. However, other folks in lighter vehicles had unreasonable expectations of their maneuverability in 4-wheel drive. Truck after truck, with cars interspersed, flew by in the snow packed left lane and vanished into the whiteout, only to reappear a few miles later mired in the ditch. It was a mess.

It was so awful the boss even stopped for coffee. He hates coffee and has only drunk two cups since I have known him. Most of that ended up in a snowbank too, but at least he tried.

Eventually we made it home, unloaded, and went to work. 

The little Valiant bull became terribly ill with probably the same thing that laid his dam low. Our vet saved him though and he went on to be quite a sire. His name was Walebe Jewelmaker, and he sired Frieland LV Dixie, the only cow we ever had go grand champion Holstein at a show. She did it twice. We had Dependa-bull come in and draw him, so he continued being an influence in the herd long after he was sold.

Adonis wasn’t much one for the girls and only sired a couple of calves. He was sent to auction after he attacked the boss with great enthusiasm. The two or three daughters he sired were good ones though.

One way or another I will never forget that stormy ride….and the threat of a big storm today that didn’t materialize was a sharp reminder. I think a trip like that would kill me now.

Liz and Frieland LV Dixie at the Cooperstown Junior show
she was a cow who just got better with age.

Never Gonna Let You Down

 

That could well be the theme song for Lyker's Pond, a swampy entity dissected by Goldman Road, just off Corbin Hill Road near here. 

It is a rare occasion that we don't see something interesting there, whether it be a new beaver slide from the edge of the road to the east pool, an Osprey circling with a pair of Bald Eagles, once a swan, probably a Trumpeter by the call, not to mention all sorts of Easter Eggs.

One is the sasquatch, which can clearly be seen from the parking pull off, stalking into the woods after drinking from the pool.

There is also an elk or deerlike critter a bit east of him.

Spring, summer, and fall are Lyker's finest seasons though. It tends to be frozen in winter.

However the other day we did a drive by just for the heck of it.

And for obvious reasons we were glad that we did. Seems as if the pond never lets us down.

#timeontheirhands #pants #warmerweatherwillprobablyletthesepantsdownthough

A Walk on the Winter Side

 

Well, really a series of drives and walks. If you don't mind the ice crystals circulating in your blood stream Upstate NY is beautiful in winter.

I am not too chuffed about the two big storms we are supposed to get this week though. Wood pile is getting scanty so we will have to buy in another load...hopefully that works out all right.

Meanwhile, we finally found a few birds yesterday at Lock 12. Winkled one scaup out of a couple hundred Mallards and Black Ducks. I am calling it a lesser as the bill looks thin, but maybe the eBird reviewer will see it otherwise. We shall see.

Otherwise, it is just a sad, stressful season, with little to recommend it beyond the beauty among the snowflakes and the promise of better times to come. I forced myself to throw out some really scraggly geraniums last fall. I compulsively keep plants forever if they are even remotely alive (I have one that is fifty years old that my mother gave me when I still lived at home), but I somehow managed to part with these sad and battered things.

However....there is always a however....I took a cutting from one of the prettier ones, wintered it in a jar on the kitchen windowsill, and potted it up the other day.

And, man, oh, man, did it ever feel good to get my fingers in dirt, even just a little pot full. I always find it hard to believe in winter when the grass is green and the cannas are blooming. Alas it works the other way too, and imagining spring while borrowing the boss's boots to go to the compost bin is a real challenge. I kinda wish my mind worked a little differently

Meanwhile, stay warm friends, stay warm.

Another old Farm Side

 

From December 2018.

FARM SIDE: WHAT’S THAT BIRD?

Posted by Recorder News | Dec 27, 2018 | Local Commentary, Local News, Opinion


By Marianne Friers


Over the sound of the car idling and chatter in the back seat I heard an unfamiliar call. A sort of shriek, urgent, raspy, primal. Creepy really, like something you might hear in a Tarzan movie right after the dramatic music.

Much of birding is recognizing the noises made by birds that don’t deign to show themselves to the observer. I recognize some calls but this was new. Not quite right for an owl, although they can fool you with screeches and shrieks that don’t much resemble hoots. No woodpecker of my experience ever made such a din either. Our chauffeur shut off the car and the backseat participants went silent as we listened. The calls went on and on, screams interspersed with harsh, grating bawling.

What on earth was that?

We were stopped along a small farm road in Fulton County, participating in the Johnstown circle of the annual Audubon Christmas Bird Count. The road runs through a farm where I was milking cows when I met the boss. It was good to see sturdy grain corn still growing in the secluded fields, although I am sure the farmer would like to get it harvested and stored before the snow flies.

The CBC is the longest running citizen science project in the world. All over the Western Hemisphere teams of birders, from newest beginners to the best-trained scientists, venture out during the weeks close to Christmas to count as many species and individual birds that they can. Each count circle encompasses fifteen square miles. Each participant is a volunteer.

The count was initiated in 1900 to take the place of traditional Christmas hunts wherein birds were killed competitively just for the heck of it. Frank Chapman, an American ornithologist, suggested simply counting the birds instead and a great tradition was born.

Although we haven’t participated for all…or even most…of the 118 annual counts since, our family has been a part of the Johnstown circle for most of its 37 year history. Mom and dad used to do it. This year three of their grandkids, a grandkid-in-law and first-timer to the game, and I covered the traditional Mayfield South portion of farms, city streets, mall parking lots, and wild woods.

The road we paused along has always been one of our favorite CBC birding spots, yielding good raptors, wonderful woodpeckers, and a bounty of bluebirds over the years.


We peered eagerly through assorted binoculars hoping to somehow pick the screamer out of the tangle of golden cornfield and grey woodlot, under a watery sun. Nada. Nope. Nuttin’.

I made recordings of the noises, hoping to submit them to a Facebook group run by the American Birding Association, What’s this Bird?, but alas you can barely hear the thing over the background noises.

Then a faint memory emerged from the depths of our driver’s mind. A long, long time ago, he remembered loading hay we were buying for the cows. The bales were stored in a remote barn, far from any other buildings. While he dragged bales out of the stacks to load on the pick up and take home to the girls, the owner waited nearby. Loading hay is hard, tedious work, but ya gotta do what you gotta do. He grabbed a bale and pulled it out. Yaw! A screaming, squalling bundle of fury emerged from the stack and came at him, hollering and snarling all the while. It wanted a piece of him and wanted it bad.

And it was making the exact sound we were hearing from that bird count woodlot. He escaped safely from the enraged creature thanks to the quick actions of the owner of the hay barn. Seems the attack was not an isolated incident and they were always prepared for same.

The encounter did not turn out quite so well for the furious raccoon, but when choosing sons over wild animals I am okay with that.

Our backseat complement searched Google for raccoon sounds and there it was, our wild woodland performer — procyon lotor himself.

Why a raccoon was repeatedly screaming from the edge of a wood-rimmed cornfield will remain a mystery. The land is posted against trespassing and I didn’t exactly feel inclined for an encounter like the one in the long-ago hay barn.

Over the course of the day birders in our CBC circle accounted for 4,912 individual birds of 52 species. Overall numbers were down roughly 300 from an average year, but this was attributed to an open winter allowing birds to disperse to find food away from roads and feeders.

Our carload experienced much the same phenomenon. We often tally well over a hundred Black-capped Chickadees, but found only 25, and we had to look pretty darned hard for those. That isn’t an awful lot over the 72-plus miles of road we wandered during six-and-a-half hours of driving and walking.

If the low point of the day was being bamboozled by a ticked-off mammal, the high point was a bird spotted in a distant tree near the silos on an active dairy farm. (Farms are good for birds, don’t ya know?) The roofs of those storage structures are always a reliable source of Rock Pigeons for us to count. Evidently they are also a reliable source of nourishment for the unexpected Peregrine Falcon we found. Suddenly it became my lucky day, as not only did we find a bird that was new for me in the county, but our boy gifted me a window mount for my camera from out of his spotting scope case. He had two, and thought I needed one to take over for not-so-steady hands in such situations.

On New Year’s Day, bird counters all over the world will start anew on county lists. Every species will be a new “year” species. I hope your New Year will offer as much good fun, and that 2019 will be a much better year than ‘18, which was pretty darned dismal for agriculture. Happy New Year!

Fultonville dairy farmer Marianne Friers is a regular columnist. She blogs at northviewdiary.blogspot.com.

Ice Harvest