Archive for May 2017
Chicks Exploring
I have no idea whether the raccoon Delilah alerted us to outside our sunroom in broad daylight yesterday afternoon had anything to do with the new presence of our 8-week-old chicks roaming the property. It was certainly a surprising and uncharacteristic sighting.
Daily, our chicks have expanded their excursions from the coop, and yesterday achieved milestones that gave me great satisfaction. Cyndie found them marching along the edge of the woods toward the compost area where they quickly unleashed their best chicken behavior on the piles.
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Later, after running with Delilah to follow the scent of the raccoon, we moved behind the barn to check on the birds. When they spotted us, they scooted from the paddock over toward the coop. The paddock is the other spot I hoped the chickens would frequent. My two primary goals realized in the same day. Huzzah!
While I am grateful that Delilah is attentive enough to call out the presence of a raccoon threat in our yard, I’m not yet convinced her concern for the chicks is as altruistic as we would wish. While Cyndie was cleaning the barn, Delilah held an uncomfortably intense focus on the compost area.
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Daylong Soaking
In the hours that I had dreamed my friends and I would be enjoying the surrounding countryside from our bicycles, the atmosphere was crying cold tears. It was a cruel follow-up to the flash flooding we endured two days prior.
It rained and rained here yesterday. Sometimes waves of serious drops fell for a few minutes, but before and after them came a steady drool of H2O that mercilessly soaked an already over-saturated landscape.
Cyndie’s mud-swamped garden became more of a fountain of running water, moving her to proclaim the location a loss for her flowering vision.
We will contemplate a different spot for her dozens of perennial beauties, somewhere as eye-catching as that bend in the driveway, but not so directly in the line of drainage.
The afternoon lent itself to some serious power-lounging around the fireplace. I closed my eyes and happily entered dreamland on the couch, then woke up to do some virtual shopping and curious research on lawn tractors. I have found multiple ways to nurse along the used Craftsman tractor that we acquired with the purchase of this property four mowing seasons ago. I think it’s had enough.
I think the engine blew a gasket last Friday. Diagnosis and repair of this malady deserves someone more learned than me, and the time constraints I am facing. The grass cutting was only partially completed when the engine revved and the white smoke billowed. Growth is happening at maximum speed this time of year.
We’re gonna need a new mower fast. There is no shortage of water providing thirsty blades of grass with all they care to drink. The front end of our property needs mowing almost before I’ve finished the last rows at the back.
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The Unride
So, today was to be the long-planned for warmup bike ride for the annual trip that happens in June. We’re doing mental preparation. The cold rain was enough to shut us down from putting ourselves through unnecessary misery.
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We ate, we laughed, we sat around the fire and soaked up each other’s glorious energy.
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The chickens were an attraction and the horses put on a pretty good demonstration of herd behavior for the morning audience.
I guess the non-biking camaraderie can count as preparation, because that is one of the major attractions of our week of biking and camping. Part of me can’t help worrying that dealing with this nasty weather is a form of preparing for what lies ahead. Instead, we are all preferring that I frame the rain and cold as happening now so it won’t need to happen later.
Come June, we are visualizing warmth, sunshine, and calm winds.
May it be so.
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Flashingly Flooded
Tears. I could feel them through the text message I was seeing on my phone. Cyndie was getting a first look at the results of Wednesday’s heavy rains. Her flowering perennial garden had suffered a direct hit from the flood of water that poured onto our property from the farm field to our north.
In my pre-dawn departure for work, I had not noticed the extent of topsoil slop that had washed over our land. The much more obvious evidence I did see, which revealed the significance of overnight flooding, came in the form of field debris coating the roads.
I also spotted the dramatically high level of water overflowing the banks of the small creeks and waterways as I traveled the roads away from home.
Nature’s wrath has little regard for our feeble efforts to confine the actions of our environment.
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Frequent Downpours
I hope this isn’t an omen. This coming Friday and Saturday we have scheduled a custom event at Wintervale for close friends that is intended to serve as a warmup to the annual Tour of Minnesota bike and camping week in the middle of June. I didn’t mean it to become a conditioning exercise for nasty weather.
I don’t want the weather we are currently burdened with to be representative of what we can expect in a month’s time. The good news is that the last few days have provided several quiet moments of time when it is not raining, between the cataclysmic outbursts of over an inch-per-hour gully-washers festooned with spectacular flashes of lightning and heavy rumbling thunder that roll overhead in gargantuan waves.
The forecast for Saturday: ** Showers and possibly a thunderstorm. High near 56. East wind 5 to 10 mph. Chance of precipitation is 100%. New rainfall amounts between a half and three-quarters of an inch possible. **
A temperature of 56° with 100% chance of precipitation is not the kind of weather in which I want to ride.
Our rain gauges are getting a good workout, needing to be frequently dumped of the inches accumulating by the hour. It’s crazy making.
Meanwhile, animals just seem to deal with it. Our horses usually choose to stand out in the rain, but occasionally they will stay under the overhang. I wonder if it might be that they are growing used to the roar from the metal roof.
The wild animals are usually hunkered down far from sight, but yesterday Cyndie came across this beautiful fawn curled up on the edge of our north trail.
She reported that Delilah had completely missed sensing the little one and walked right past, oblivious. The momma must have done an excellent job of cleaning the newborn to minimize any scent.
There was no sign of the mother, but she was probably nearby, observing.
When I got home from work, Cyndie took me out to see if the fawn was still there. She held back with Delilah as I moved ahead and scanned the trail. I kept asking her if we had reached the spot yet, because I wasn’t seeing anything. We figured it had probably moved on.
Just as I was about to head back, my eye caught a glimpse of the brown color. It had definitely moved, but not very far at all. The fawn had settled in a new spot, a little off the trail, so that it was better surrounded by the tall grass.
I reached out to snap a shot looking down from overhead and then we stepped away. We didn’t have much time to tend to the horses before the next deluge.
As the rain pounded down with dramatic intensity, I wondered about that fawn folded up in a tight little ball among the tall grass. I was hoping the momma had showed up and guided a route to the woods for better cover.
Or at the very least, higher ground.
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Maples Everywhere
Maybe we shouldn’t be trying so hard to get a maple tree to grow in the center of our labyrinth. In areas where we have put no effort to entice new maple trees, they are popping up like weeds! If we wait long enough, I’m sure the labyrinth will be filled with new volunteer maple saplings.
New maple trees are flourishing beneath the large poplar tree next to the shop.
Maples are sprouting among the ferns by the basement window.
They are rising from the perennial ground cover growing by the back fire pit.
Lastly, the new trail I opened up behind the woodshed looks like a nursery for maple trees.
If there is any justice in this world, the maples we have to remove due to their poor choice of root will be offset by one successful transplant taking hold where we want it to grow most.
Happily, this spring all signs are good that it has survived the winter with enough energy to sprout leaves. The next question enshrouding our hopefulness is, will the leaves survive the full length of summer?
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Different Day
Saturday was calm and Delilah was afraid to touch the water. Sunday the wind was directly out of the south and blowing strong enough to create rolling white cap waves. That was enough for Delilah to get over her trepidation about the water so she could charge in to bite at the broiling waves.
It was a wonderful sight to behold. I rushed to get my phone out so I could record a video. I held the camera for a long minute and then reached up to touch the screen to stop the recording. What I actually did at that moment was touch the screen to start recording, after having held it up while the phone was doing absolutely nothing during the best action.
Curses!
After chomping the white water multiple times, she alerted to the two ducks floating calmly past. I think they reminded her of chickens.
In another way Sunday was different from Saturday, there was activity in the eagle’s nest over the tennis court. On Saturday, I looked and looked but saw no sign of anything up in the big nest that has been home to an eagle family for years.
Sunday we were standing directly beneath it with Delilah when I realized the sound we were hearing was very likely newborn eagles. Looking straight up, I quickly found an eagle on a branch beyond the nest.
It is possible the nestlings just hatched. They were making quite a ruckus and we wondered if it had anything to do with our presence. When the eagle on the branch flew off, we began to speculate about the possibility the noisy eaglets were reacting to feeding time.
While one parent stayed seated in the nest, keeping a keen eye out, the other one spread its wings and flew away, presumably in search of another meal.
After a trip back to the cabin to get binoculars, we returned to find the nest calm and quiet. Having recently witnessed how quickly our chicks could fall asleep, we pondered the possibility the babies had already gone from shrieking hungry to full nap-mode.
By the middle of the day, when we had the car packed for the trip home, Delilah made every effort to clearly convey her preference to stay right where we were. It was funny to watch. She definitely recognized the cleaning and organizing preparations inside and kept a close eye on our movements.
When it came time to put on her leash to head outside, she balked big-time. Upon ultimately succeeding in getting her outside, Cyndie tried to get Delilah to pee before going in the car. Delilah’s only desire was to walk in short loops that always returned to one of the doors to go back in the cabin.
I like the way she thinks.
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Laking It
Happy Mother’s Day all you moms out there! We are starting the day up at the lake with Cyndie’s mom and dad. This afternoon, we have dinner plans with our children and whomever can make it from her brother’s families.
It feels like the middle of May.
Plants and trees up at the lake place are a week or more behind the growth that has popped at home. I find the perspective it offers points out the end of opportunities for easy access to our wooded areas. Up here, we can still walk easily in among the trees, while at home the explosion of leaves is quickly closing down views and avenues of travel.
On the plus side, we have the return of a shade canopy over our forests. That makes Delilah much happier.
With her thick coat, she is quick to seek out shade when we have her outside on sunny days. I assumed she would be thrilled with the opportunity to cool herself in the chilly water of the big lake this weekend, but she has surprised us with a distinct timidity at the water’s edge.
She has behaved totally non-fazed by the new confines of the cabin, and seems to adore exploring the grounds on her leash. Alas, the water holds no allure, even with the added excitement of spawning fish splashing about in the shallows.
I think it’s a good thing there are no signs the turtles have been burying eggs in the sand of the beach yet. She would be very pleased to dig for such treasure.
Between walks, she naps nearby during our card games, with only occasional startles or barks over the squawking crows and rare boat traffic happening by.
It’s been a soothing, calm getaway for us, nicely described by the term, “laking it.”
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