Black-Capped Chickadee

The birds have been chattering. Going this way and that. It is nice to see.

Put in a good days work. Hoping for clear skies to see the conjunction of Jupiter and Venus on Wednesday.

Crossbills

Two pairs of Red Crossbills. They looked ragged and wouldn’t turn my way. They were busy working on their plumage. Getting ready for breeding, I suspect, wanting to look their best. The males already look like they are full of neon.

***

Worked the stat today. It felt good making the extra money.

Looking Forward

A Hairy Woodpecker finds the bugs below the bark on a fir tree.

The birds are singing, pretending its spring. Can they be fooled along with the rest of us?

+8 today.

The lake has shed the snow. If it freezes hard we could get in some more skating. That would be nice, but unlikely.

February and March can be deceiving. Warm, wind and bitter cold. In November you know it’s coming. March should be better. The cold, like everything in nature, hangs in there putting up the biggest fight right at the end. Passionately holding onto what keeps slipping between the fingers.

bird watch

Winter finch.

Took off for the creek this morning. At first, we thought the valley bottom would be best. Reconsidered when the mud bogged us down.

The ground is frozen still with melt running over, making a mess of it, challenging buds to appear. Instead we headed higher, until we found a solid layer of ice and snow underfoot. Willow was saved a bath.

The birds have been at it. Most I can’t see. We hear them, chirping and singing, a crow spread it’s wings on the ground, shaking like taking a bath. It is hard to know what it means.

Time to start looking for the first robin singing or owl hooting.

Little Birds

I don’t see any weakness when I look at birds. They drop seeds for others and stash them for later. Sometimes the woodpeckers and starlings show up, sure there can be a ruckus. It’s just seeds however, at this time of year. They will fight to death in spring over nests housing young ones, but not over seeds in fall.

Been listening and reading a lot of stuff, done by smart people, that is supposed to explain things, why we have ended up the way we are. I’m not sure if I understand it or buy into it. I’ve always had fear about people with all the answers. I’ve even listened to folks with supposedly the same problems as me, and I can’t relate. I just find it dull. Don’t get me wrong I’m dull too.

I found my grandparents graves today. I looked all over. I remember when they were laid to rest. I thought it was more in the middle of the Cemetery. Goes to show memory can play some tricks, then again it was the early 70’s and from what I was told I was distraught. This is the first time I’ve looked since.

Those birds though on a brilliant day, without sentimentality, testing the trellis branches, not a worry of winter, knowing cold is on the way, they’ve got it figured out.

Mid September Rain

Pine Siskin

Grey and rain, frost the last couple mornings. It’s feeling like fall. September can’t be beat.

Most of the tomatoes are in. Sitting in flats waiting to ripen in the dark in the basement.

Split wood for the fire. Saw a herd of Pine Siskins. I told Lisa it was too early, but she was damned and determined to warm the old place up. Since we have a lot of wood and grandkids sleeping over I agreed before being overruled.

Back in the ‘old days’ we went as long as we could without heat. My sisters and brother can attest. Oil, coal and electricity has always been expensive. Frost on the walls and old coats used for covers. You could watch your breath until dipping your head under the covers to warm up.

Wind and big defined clouds should be celebrated. When the clouds burst open we should all run outside and feel the water on our faces, soaking us to the skin. My grandkids agree.

Durban Poison

looking out

A long weekend and the valley bottom is alive with ruck, revellers stirring it up.

Luckily I was wrestling with a nasty sewer pipe and stubborn toilet flange, protecting me from the glut of overindulgence the town has become. The trip to the hardware to pick up closet bolts was a doozy.

Still, I stuck my head out long enough to see the young Cedar Waxwings picking the berries off an Ornamental Cherry. The blue sky crowding the Sunflowers. And the weed doing its best in the lowered sun.

I’ve left out the picture of the sewer pipe and the crowds, I’ve had enough of them for a day.

Purple Kush

a reminder

A Raven at the dump, saying don’t feel sorry for me, you filthy bastards!

It’s good to wake up and not have to go to work. A long weekend gives that little bit extra. Fuck laying the clothes out on Sunday. Rushing, getting a shave in, reconstructing your constitution, always important to see you through.

To have a whole other day is a reward. The lawn ain’t mowed. The beans aren’t in. Still time to putter. Have a beer between jobs. Entertain Willow. Lounge at breakfast. Read the paper. All the good ones are online now. I am going to be pissed once my eyes go for good.

A smart man would take advantage of this extra time. After all the shit could hit the fan at any time. Still the odds are in my favour. It’s been awhile since an astroid hit, so excuse me if I take my time.

The wild orchids are up same as the spinach. Hummingbirds test the feeder and chase each other off.

It makes me wonder where my personal responsibilities lie considering the state of the world. How can I be happy when bombs are falling in the Middle East, when lies are being pushed be governments and officials of every creed?

The mountains are getting a dusting of snow. The frost is off for a few days at least. The plants will feed us through summer.

The stars are up each night. Doing their best to shine into my soul. They remind me to fight for what I think is right, but most of the time, they remind me I am part of something huge.

They remind to take advantage of what has been given. I can fight at the drop of a hat, but I have to be reminded to watch birds.

Spring birds

A Rufus waiting me out, in the shade, the sun not lighting it’s iridescent wings.

Willow is distracted by birds, even bothered by them, she is the only dog I’ve had that is so. It could be from the time when she was a puppy and we would give her a bone on the front lawn. The Crows would hoover, distract her and steal her bone. It was funny to watch. I know she didn’t share my sense of humour.

Willow barks at Crows and Ravens like they are a burglar breaking through the front door. I appreciate it out in the bush. Crows and Ravens follow bears around and it gives me a heads up.

But at home it can be embarrassing when she scares off a Hummingbird or Song Sparrow, with her loud bark, their only crime having the audacity to hoover or sit on the garden fence. The Robins especially get a kick out of her, leading her this way and that.

Willow is not the dog you want on bird watching expeditions. I stand between them with hopes they will someday get along. The fact is they already are and I’m the lone man out.

rain

Kingfisher, mullen and tracks.

Slight rain, a bit of snow mixed in. The grass is getting greener before my eyes. The trees are budding. Some grow with vigour and some don’t come back. It has nothing to do with harshness or strength. That’s why young die and we shake our heads at the sky.

Religion is both to blame and expected to offer comfort. If you believe in that stuff.

I prefer the rain thawing the ground. The creeks filling with water dirtied by sluff, carving a new route, washing out bridges when necessary. It seems more truthful.

Even a slight rain will soak through, if you let it.