What Have I Been Doing…?

What have I been doing?

That’s neither an existential nor a hypothetical question.  It is an expression of confusion.  And I apologize for abandoning all of you so thoughtlessly, but I never quite recovered from my latest computer failure and seem to have become recklessly distracted since.  I can’t even put a thought together, not even a naughty one.

Maybe it is the heat.

I do seem to hear something banging at my bedroom window though.  (Really.)  I wonder if the recent storms pushed a branch out of place.  Or maybe they’re finally coming to take me to the River Styx.  I have no idea.

It is kind of spooky though.

I’ll be sitting here wondering — usually aloud — What have I been doing?  When, wham!  I hear something hit the window.  So far nothing has broken I haven’t heard any claws or finger nails scraping at the glass.  I presume I am safe.  But it is kind of spooky.  Best to ignore it.

Let’s move on.

I have seen a lot of turtles around the lake. Turtles on the march!

I did go for a walk today and I’m happy to say that while I was back in the woods I ran into the funny little man who roams the neighborhood…

Yes, right…

He’s an interesting guy.  Probably a few years young than me and about half my size.  His clothes are a mess of wrinkled disarray, but he really wouldn’t look right in anything else.   He stands with a slouch and walks surprisingly quickly with a shuffling gait.  (I have never seen him trip on a tree root.  Amazing.)

He makes a very enthusiastic effort to be friendly.  It can be a little unsettling at first.  A little too much eye contact.  Some might call it creepy, but I think he just wants you to know he notices you and it is his way of signalling that you are not going to pass without noticing him.

Most of our conversations go like this:

He says, “Beautiful day!”  (Very loudly.)

“Yes, it is.”

“What time is it?”  (Again, very loudly.)

I tell him the time and he answers “Oh, ok.  Thank you!  Have a good day!”  and walks on.

I probably run into him once a week and until tonight that’s about all we have ever said to each other and I’ve never felt like he expected more.

Tonight though when I told him it was 7:10, he looked confused and stopped.  I stopped, too, and pulled out my phone.  I wasn’t wearing a watch and I presumed he noticed.  How could I know the time if I wasn’t wearing my watch?

“Yep, 7:10,” I said.  It was actually 7:12.

“Oh, ok…thank you.  So I have another hour?  I think I have another hour on my pass.”

I didn’t know what to say.  What pass?  He appeared to be very unsure.  So I waited and he pulled a bus pass out of his pocket.

“Yes, 8:40.  I have another hour.”  More of a question than statement so I agreed.  He told me where he had to meet his bus and so on and I reassured him that he did indeed have an hour.

“Oh, ok…Thank you!   Have a nice day.”  And off he went.

For my part, I went into the woods and wondered why my friend didn’t warn me about the mosquitoes.  They are especially brutal right now.   They bit right through my shorts, underwear and all!  Crazy little bugs.  So I walked double-fast through the woods tonight and didn’t see much.  Seeing things is difficult anyway with all those leaves.  Deer and owls and raccoons can be an arm’s length away and you won’t see them, especially if you’re focused on biting bugs.

So I have been getting out and I know why my odd friend is always so interested in the time.

I’ll see if I can aspire to doing more with my time.  Starting tomorrow.

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Tracking Wildlife in Minneapolis

While pursuing urban wildlife, one must be careful. The hunter may become the hunted. But this is for another blog.

The uninitiated might think I don’t follow the best practices of strong blogging.  My post headlines rarely describe what is in the post and I write the weakest leads in blogdom…or do I mean in the blogosphere?

I tend to call people names — well, sort of, I only call conservative politicians and right ring radio hosts names and I see no harm in that — and I complain a lot about mundane things like bad parkers and the grocery story running out of my favorite mustard.  And I tend to start at least a third of my sentences with a conjunction.

But if I had been clever enough to have been born about 70 years earlier and then wrote a short novel about a talking pig and spider, you would judge my random posts to be quite good.  So I want you to proceed with that thought in mind.  Refocus your attention and pretend.  What if he wrote a story about a talking pig and a spider…

Eventually, by the way, I will indeed write about Minneapolis wildlife.

And that eventually is now!

Well, first…wait a minute…now we’re stuck.  This is that awkward space where I don’t know how to begin.  Do I just talk about the bird I saw?  Or do I go off on another tangent, like my disgust with scented toilet paper?

Let’s talk about the bird.

Once upon a time I thought I had to drive thirty miles or more before I would be far enough away from the life-killing urban core to start seeing nature at play.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My neighborhood is a true wild kingdom, flush with squirrels, owls and raccoons; birds of every kind and deer everywhere, and even occasional sightings of small humans, druids or children…Really, I cannot tell.  It is so hard these days, both seem to wear hooded garments and scamper quickly if and when they come into the light of day.

Spotting wildlife hasn’t always been as easy as it has been recently, however.  It practically jumps out and grabs you.  Fox, hawks, deer, raccoons, some big furry thing…it abundance is everywhere.  Damn near an infestation of untamed creatures.

Look at the beautiful hawk.  A red tail, I think.  It sat on a bare branch above my trail, plain as the sun in the sky, as if waiting for me to say hello.  In fact from the look on his face, I’m late.

I clicked off a couple dozens photos, but most are tad fuzzy.  I really need a tripod…or I need to drink less coffee and other things.  I can’t hold the camera still on super zoom for long.  I tripod might be a less expensive solution, however not at all practical.  So I will stick with click-off-dozens-of-photos technique and hope dumb luck catches my target.  This one didn’t turn out so badly.

Nor did it fail me with the woodpecker.  He’s nesting there with his mate.  (Sounds almost dreamy, doesn’t it?  Who wouldn’t want to nest with a mate?)  Alas, Mr. and Mrs. Woodpecker made one brief appearance then off they went to find more bugs and things.  Such a gratefully simple life.  And all dressed up, too!

Thinking Twice

Further down the trail I ran into more wildlife, wildlife of all sorts.  Deer, birds, neighbors, and enough squirrels to feed them all.  In fact the deer in this photo made me a little uneasy.  He seemed set on having the path and ran fearlessly toward me.  In the man-versus-deer game of chicken, however, I prevailed.

More about the deer.

This deer almost appeared accidentally in the photo.  I was taking yet another picture of a wooded pathway and there he was!  Imagine my surprise.  A dangerous beast trotting toward me with vicious determination.

I seem to take a lot of pictures of wooded paths, by the way.  It must say something about my quest to find something lost in my psyche.  I have more pictures of wooded paths than anything else.

Note the cage.

Some people bring their own wildlife to the parks.  This guy has a pair of something that looked like mongoose in this cage.  He was on his way to a photo shoot with a group of kids.  I’m not sure how it turned out, however unleashing a pair of pissed off mongoose on a group of kids dressed in their Sunday best sounds interesting to me.

I waited around for shrieks, but hearing none, I had to get going.  I was attracting attention.

If you’ll notice in the follow up picture, you will see I have been spotted.  Few things attract attention more than a single guy with a cigar (unlit, of course…you can’t smoke in Minneapolis) taking pictures in the park, especially if he is waiting for a mongoose attack.

So I went back to taking pictures of paths.  And trees, flowering trees.  Perhaps the flowering trees represent something nascent and untapped in my psyche.  I take a lot of photos of flowering trees.

Oh, and did I mention the fox?  Cute little buggers.  There are a lot of cute little foxes in Minneapolis.  Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.  My neighborhood is known for its cougars.

While flowering with the trees, a thought occurred to me.  Once, for as long as I could remember, I would avoid stepping on manhole covers.  I’m not sure why, but I never would step on a manhole cover.  Maybe once someone told me they randomly blew up or something.  I don’t know.

Then one day I thought:  What if I was meant to step on manhole covers.  What if?  Perhaps I was cheating my purpose, my raison d ‘etre.  Sometimes one simple change can reset the cosmic order of things, one special find.

So I started stepping on manhole covers, expecting big changes.  Nothing happened.  Cosmic order unchanged.  Quite disappointing.  I still step on manhole covers.  In fact now I stomp on them.

I realized there and then — while flowering with the trees — that there could be another key, another channel to change.  I thought about my daily walk.  I always walk in the same direction.  Day after day I am a right-turn guy and guess what…Disarray.  The grip of doom tightening around my neck!  That sort of thing.

Perhaps, I thought, I was simply winding the spring tighter and before long, like an old watch, something would snap.  I thought about that…It would make some sense, might it not?  I decided it isn’t healthy to always walk the course in the same direction.  You have to look at things from another angle from time to time.

This made so much sense, it put me in a panic and I quickly turned and started back in the direction from whence I came, sort of unwinding things, you see.  And you know…it might actually be doing something.  Everything looked, well, different!  I even feel different.

Eating Duck?

And a  significant omen awaited me on the trail.  My friend the red tail hawk.  Do you think my change in direction had any benefit for him?  It must have.  I found him on the forest floor enjoying a midday meal.   The rewards of a life well-lived, a feast for a hawk.  Certainly, I presume, my opportunity cannot be far behind.

Maybe I’ll be nesting in a tree.  Well, let’s settle for a five star hotel, but one should never presume to know.  Don’t forget, wild life seeks its rewards, too.  The best might be the least expected.

I snapped a few shots of the hawk and felt a bit reassured somehow.  I think I’ll try going east by going west first, left before right.  At least for a while.  

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Monday in Linden Hills

I am on holiday and I am spending it close to home.   A good choice.  The afternoon weather has turned a bit overcast, but it doesn’t feel like heavy weather.  That’s almost a disappointment, actually.

I have the propensity to rally behind over-the-top weather.  If we’re experiencing a streak of snowy weather, I want more snow.   Heavy rain?  Why not some more?  Let’s go for a record.  Same for bitter cold, high winds, wild thunderstorms (a favorite), and dense fog.  Make it something to talk about.  That weather is best.

There’s something exciting about extremes.  In fact, other than stretches of heat, sunshine, and drought, I like extreme weather streaks.  And I only find heat and sunshine uninteresting because I lived in Tempe, Arizona, for ten years.  Droughts simply are not a good idea unless you live in a desert.

When I see the last bands of persistent heavy rain disappearing from a weather radar with only clear skies behind, I feel disappointed, almost a sense of loneliness.  So I hope for maybe just one more deluge before things calmer, more tepid days return.  Maybe some lightning and thunder, too.

Until then today has been nothing less than a decent one away from work.

Should I tell you about my walk in the woods?  Why not.

I notice from time to time deer tracks that appear to show a deer dragging a leg a little.  I have seen this before, not just recently, so I wonder if it is a way deer walk.  I doubt it.  More likely one of the deer is somewhat lame.  Although it is more common to see this dragging print in the snow.  Perhaps deer just get a little lazy and shuffle along like a bored kid impatiently trailing behind busy parents.

Not a warbler. It’s a cardinal.

The birds were out and so were the birders.  I chatted with two.  The first birder told me he was watching some sort of warbler.  I just nodded, pretending to know exactly what he was talking about.  He also corrected my owl identification.  I have been seeing — and hearing — barred owls, not great horned owls.  Although I do know for a fact that I have spotted great horned owls more than once in the woods and heard them in the back yard.

I took quite a few photos.  My camera works great!  But I need a tripod.  When on deep zoom, my ability to steady the camera doesn’t last long and with uncooperative birds that is proving to be a problem.  Still, I get a semi-decent picture from time to time.  As they say, even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.

Going down the trail I noticed some bright white stuff on the ground beneath a tree.  I got excited.  It looked like egg shells.  Here was my chance, I thought, to find a hidden nest and earn some birder bragging rights.  Surely above these broken fragments of egg shell there was something special.  The pieces looked large, like potato chips. But no nest.  It made no sense until I got closer and saw that my discovery was a torn up styrofoam cup.

Barred Owl

Nonetheless, I think my instincts and logic deserve a compliment.  It could have been what I thought it was.

The second birder I encountered had a camera bigger than some beer coolers I own.  He had a tripod out of simple necessity.  (Have you ever tried to hold a beer cooler steady?  It isn’t easy.)  He told me he was photographing some bird nesting in a hollow tree.  Instinctively he seemed to know that the species would be irrelevant to me.

I did show him a couple of my pictures, however, and he seemed to be more than polite about them.  Feeling smug and chatty, in the whispering birder sort of way, I also commented on the “morning” warblers I learned about from the other birder.   When I came home and looked them up in my bird guide, I discovered they are mourning warblers.  I suspect the guy with the giant camera wouldn’t have noticed my mistake.

I do have a Sibley Guide to birds.  It is great, however I can’t really carry that in my back pocket.  I am thinking of getting a field guide, but I’m not sure if I really have the patience to stop and look up a bird.  And none of the serious birders seem to have a guide stuck in a back pocket.   I don’t want to look like a dork.

I wonder if I should get a photojournalist’s vest instead.

I’m not sure how I will finish my holiday.  Perhaps I will find time to embark on my Big Ambition.  I should probably check in at the bar, however, and make sure nothing has changed.  And I do have a couple clients I want to call.  Strangely, I tend to like making calls on my days off.  Those calls seem so unworklike.  I like that.

Whatever it is, I have to decide soon.  The afternoon is running fast and I have a very acute obsession with time, recently, especially the lack of it.  That Big Ambition can wait no longer.  To make something of a high art reference, these are indeed the days of our lives.

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Maybe It Is the Weather

I don’t seem to be getting much done and what I am doing doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense.  I am reading a volume of Tacitus, for example, only because it happened to be available at my bookstore recently.  And when I am not doing that I am watching British period dramas featuring Joanne Froggatt.  Seems like such an odd mix of pre-occupations.

Maybe it is the weather.

I am a bad weather kind of guy.  If you cannot be a bad boy, be a bad weather boy.  I love the cold wet winds and heavy grey skies.  But maybe we’re getting just just a bit too much of it this spring.

Several days ago I took myself for a walk, an irresponsible absence from my day job, and composed a long and clever post about outdoor photography.  I never posted it.  I never finished it.  In fact — to tell the truth — I never started it.  I just took many pictures, pictures begging for attention and explanation.  Self-portraits, maybe, and each was more or less the same.

Interesting.

Even now I am writing only because I feel like I should…something about guilt, I think, and a sense of responsibility.  Plus I want a chance to admire a hat.  (See hat to left.  Where does a guy get a hat like Lord Grantham’s hat?)

And that’s all I can muster right now.

I cannot even pick on Republicans — as easy as that is — the fun isn’t in it for me now.  Besides some people do it so much better, proving that irony is nothing but a matter of perception if not perspective.  And no one wants to go to the bar with me.  That’s odd, I think.  Who could have anticipated that other people might enjoy my sober self more than myself?  Odd and dull.  Responsible, too.

So I take my found time and day dream of riding a bicycle down a Yorkshire lane.  It has to be the weather, hasn’t it?

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Weekend Review

The Cast of All Creatures Great and Small

With a gusty cold wind still blowing steadily outside, it feels like a perfect night for hot chocolate, toast, and an episode or two of All Creatures Great and Small.  It has been a while since I looked to Siegfried Farnon for tips on smart and prosperous living and I’m guessing I am overdue.  And Sunday nights are good nights for taking stock in such things.

Frankly, that’s about all that I have for you anyway.  Uneventful weekends doesn’t make good blog content.

This was a quiet weekend.  Lovely, cold weather though.  And I did get for an early evening walk into the Roberts Bird Sanctuary where I heard and then eventually I spotted the Great Horned Owl that has been lurking there.  He was high in one of the cottonwoods.  Dusk was settling in so he wasn’t very easy to see, but when he called his body puffed and moved with each hoot.  It was fun to watch, but as I have mentioned in earlier posts, the bird sanctuary starts to get a bit spooky with druids, elves, and creepy men roaming about the woods.  So I moved on.

I guess I did get out for a short time with coworkers Friday night and then went to a party Saturday afternoon.  But that’s about it.  Of course I treated myself to lunch and a beer in Uptown today before going grocery shopping.  (Don’t shop on an empty stomach.)  But who wants to read about that?  I don’t even want to write about it.

So I’ll wrap up the weekend with All Creatures, a book or two (One Man’s Meat, E B White, I think), and that toast I mentioned.  You should scroll down this blog and find something better to read.

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Minnesota Champion Cottonwood?

Impressive Cottonwood. Roberts Bird Sanctuary. Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The reigning Minnesota champion cottonwood tree is impressive.  It has a diameter over 32 feet and reaches 106 feet into the sky.  It is on public land in Chippewa County near the town of Watson and I cannot find a picture of it.

But I can find a picture of this giant cottonwood…I took this picture!  This tree is located along my regular walk through the Roberts Bird Sanctuary in Minneapolis.

This tree is quite large, but I’m not sure if it qualifies.  You have to measure the circumference at 4 1/2 feet above the ground.  This is a regulation I didn’t know when I thought of the tree’s potential.  At three feet I think you have a record circumference.  That tree has to be more than 32 feet around.  I’ll see if the trunk divides lower than 4 1/2 feet.

I can’t be sure of the height of the tree in the sanctuary, but I downloaded an app for my phone that’s supposed to help you measure the height of objects.  I’m not sure how I’ll get an accurate measurement in a thick grove of trees, however.  I suppose I could try measuring the trees en masse and then estimate the height of my tree.

A scoring system exists for rating trees.  They are judged on a point scale which is awarded by measuring the circumference of the trunk in inches at 4 1/2 feet above the ground, the height of the tree in feet, and one-quarter of the tree’s crown spread in feet.  You add up the three numbers and you get a score.  The cottonwood of record in Minnesota has a score of 528, which also happens to be the highest score among all champion trees recorded.

The second highest score is a silver maple, recorded and reported by a guy named Milford.  You expect guys named Milford to be out there measuring trees.

I’ll do a little more research tomorrow.  In the meantime, please congratulate me for writing yet another post without any political rant.

(Don’t vote Republican.  Save your country.)

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Treading Lightly Still

Lake Harriet, Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Ah, one sentence written and still no politics in this post.

It feels good, actually.It feels like this might be the specific week that marks the transition from late summer to early fall.  Outside the air is still warm, but it feels cool.  If you live in a place where seasons change, this will make sense to you.  It explains why here in Minnesota we are running around in shorts when it is 5o degrees in April and wearing a sweater when it is 50 degrees in September.

But outside now — judging by the count of cricket chirps — I would say it is a comfortable 60 degrees or so just shortly after sunset.  That is a little too warm for the light jacket I wore on my walk.  I am still waiting for those nights when the setting sun means the air will be crisp and frosty.  There is plenty to look forward to.

I took my typical walk down along Lake Harriet, past the band shell, and then into the woods at the Roberts Bird Sanctuary.  The bird sanctuary borders Lakewood Cemetery, a perfect touch in the fall season.  As the days shorten this walk becomes much more exciting; dusk is an especially interesting time to be in the woods.

Tonight was especially still and quiet.  More than once I thought I heard something moving in the woods and discovered it was only a leaf falling from a tree.  Birds and things move much more quietly this time of the day.

At some point I noticed the sound of crickets and frogs had filled the quiet around me.  This is much like that “white noise” we experience, but so much better.  It really is something.  And still the squirrels and things moved in the trees without a sound.  They seem to have so much more confidence and swagger as the woods grow dark.  They’re intimidating, almost.  There’s a sense of a some kind of plot being set up by the squirrels and I expect them to turn on me at any moment.  But they don’t.

Lakewood Cemetery

In cemetery tonight I noticed two deer squaring off and butting heads.  I guess that’s what they do in the fall.  I had never seen it before and I had to go to the wilds of inner Minneapolis to find it.I took a video of the deer, but I cannot figure out how to load a video clip on WordPress!  (Maybe someone can help.)  Alas, it isn’t the clearest video anyway…I am still using only my camera phone for most photos.  (And I think I do ok with my camera phone.  Mathew Brady did great things with a wooden box after all.)

I climbed through the brush to get to the cyclone fence separating the bird sanctuary from the cemetery and took some pictures.  In the low light I’m afraid I didn’t get much.  I did see this thing, though…what is it?  It appears to be a pagan something-or-other and it is tied to a tree facing the cemetery.  I kept an eye open for trouble for the rest of my walk.  You never know.  (Ever see The Wicker Man?)

While I was watching the deer and hanging out with pagan talismans, I heard a raccoon nearby…or at least what I think was a raccoon.  Keep in mind that what I know raccoons to sound like is based on watching Gentle Ben as a boy, so I might have been wrong.  Regardless, whatever it was was loud and near.  I lingered for a minute longer at the fence and decided I better keep walking.  I was starting to feel spooked.

And when I got back on the path, guess what I saw coming up on to the path a few yards ahead of me…yes, a raccoon!  A big one, too.  The night before I stumbled upon a group of them crossing the path.  It was about the same time of the night and they startled me.  In fact, I shouted a silly, “Woo!  Raccoons!”  Half of them kept walking and the other half turned back into the dark bushes.  The raccoon I saw tonight stopped, stared, and … I swear it is true … shrugged his shoulders impatiently before turning back toward the brush.

The woods were dark now.  Shades of greys and deep blues mostly.  Ironically, I thought, the only light was in the cemetery.  It shined like a refuge.  The deer seem to enjoy it.  And I started to think about Harold and Maude.  It’s the cemetery connection, I think.  It might be time to watch that film yet again.  I do kind of wish it had been a series, like All Creatures Great and Small, that I could enjoy in an episodic way for weeks instead of repeatedly two hours at a time.  I have no idea how many times I have watched Harold and Maude, but it is a lot and I’m not certain why.  I keep thinking I am learning something when I see the film.  Can you learn something without knowing what it is?

Lakewood Cemetery

I’m sure I have learned a lot from All Creatures Great and Small.  Well, wait…let me back up…I have seen outstanding examples of what I should be learning — how to handle stress and hardship with style, dignity, and a pint of bitters, for example — but I am not convinced I have yet learned how to apply these examples into my own routine of stress and such.  I’ll watch Harold and Maude tonight and see if I can sort out what I should be learning there…

But back to my walk.

I will own up to becoming irrationally uneasy in the woods as I continued.  But I’ll also admit to finding some thrill in that.  If someone had unexpectedly appeared from behind a tree, I would have shrieked like a child.

This reminds me of a tip, in a roundabout way.  While walking in the woods and looking for wildlife, it is useful to turn around every so often and look behind you.  You will be surprised at how often you see an animal back there watching you walk away.  It is also a good way to protect yourself from The Headless Horseman and other creepy things that lurk in the woods at night.

I did seem to be sneaking up on a lot of small animals.  My shoes are exceptionally quiet, which reminds me that I need to contact the good people at Filson and complain about my squeaky Highlander Boots for which I spent a nice sum.  My pals call me squeaky when I wear them.  They are more of an annoyance than anything.  Silence in the woods is important, but I doubt it is the most important thing a person on the prowl needs to worry about.  Most animals will smell you before they see or hear you.  Sometimes I think if you just go plowing through the woods you might blend in better anyway…maybe get mistaken for a moose or a bear.  The animals might know the difference, but fellow hikers on the trail might not.  There might be some fun in that.

Make sure hunters have a good ethic, however, and shoot only at what they can see.  (More on hunting in a post to follow.)

As you can see I survived my stroll through the woods.  I did see another racoon.  (He seemed rather impatient with me, too, before turning back on the path and walking away.)  And I saw a rabbit…oh, I have to talk about the rabbit.  Bear with me.

I turned a corner and in the dusk saw a rabbit waiting in the middle of the path.  As I approached it got up and loped slowly a few yards ahead of me.  I’m not sure why it did not dart into the brush like the other rabbits, but then…how does it turn out in Lewis Carroll‘s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?…I thought I might be falling for a trap, so I turned and went down another path which…went deeper into the woods!  Then I thought…Aha!  So that is it!  You want me to over think this and go down that path!…so now I turned back around again and did so quite smartly  and — poof! — the rabbit was gone.

I outsmarted a rabbit!  And with that, I will leave you alone.

Lake Harriet Sunset. Walking Home.

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Still Treading Lightly

Lake Harriet, Minneapolis, Minnesota.Ah, one sentence written and still no politics in this post. It feels good, actually.It feels like this might be the specific week that marks the transition from late summer to early fall. Outside the air is still warm, but it feels cool. If you live in a place where seasons change, this will make sense to you. It explains why here in Minnesota we are running around in shorts when it is 5o degrees in April and wearing a sweater when it is 50 degrees in September.But outside now -- judging by the count of cricket chirps -- I would say it is a comfortable 60 degrees or so just shortly after sunset. That is a little too warm for the light jacket I wore on my walk. I am still waiting for those nights when the setting sun means the air will be crisp and frosty. There is plenty to look forward to.I took my typical walk down along Lake Harriet, past the band shell, and then into the woods at the Roberts Bird Sanctuary. As the days shorten this walk becomes much more exciting; dusk is an especially interesting time to be in the woods. The bird sanctuary borders Lakewood Cemetery, a perfect touch in the fall season.Tonight was especially still and quiet. More than once I thought I heard something moving in the woods and discovered it was only a leaf falling from a tree. Birds and things move much more quietly this time of the day.At some point I noticed the sound of crickets and frogs had filled the quiet around me. This is much like that "white noise" we experience, but so much better. It really is something. And still the squirrels and things moved in the trees without a sound. They seem to have so much more confidence and swagger as the woods grow dark. They're intimidating, almost. There's a sense of a some kind of plot being set up by the squirrels and I expect them to turn on me at any moment. But they don't.In cemetery tonight I noticed two deer squaring off and butting heads. I guess that's what they do in the fall. I had never seen it before and I had to go to the wilds of inner Minneapolis to find it.I took a video of the deer, but I cannot figure out how to load a video clip on WordPress! (Maybe someone can help.) It isn't the clearest video anyway, alas...I am still using only my camera phone for most photos. (And I think I do ok with my camera phone. Mathew Brady did great things with a wooden box after all.) I climbed through the brush to get to the cyclone fence separating the bird sanctuary from the cemetery and took some pictures. In the low light I'm afraid I didn't get much. I did see this thing, though...what is it? It appears to be a pagan something-or-other and it is tied to a tree facing the cemetery. I kept an eye open for trouble for the rest of my walk. You never know. (Ever see The Wicker Man?)While I was watching the deer and hanging out with pagan talismans, I heard a raccoon nearby...or at least what I think was a raccoon. Keep in mind that what I know raccoons to sound like is based on watching Gentle Ben as a boy, so I might have been wrong. Regardless, whatever it was was loud and near. I lingered for a minute longer at the fence and decided I better keep walking. I was starting to feel spooked.And when I got back on the path, guess what I saw coming up on to the path a few yards ahead of me...yes, a racoon! A big one, too. The night before I stumbled upon a group of them crossing the path. It was about the same time of the night and they startled me. In fact, I shouted a silly, "Woo! Raccoons!" Half of them kept walking and the other half turned back into the dark bushes. The raccoon I saw tonight stopped, stared, and ... I swear it is true ... shrugged his shoulders impatiently before turning back toward the brush.The woods were dark now. Shades of greys and deep blues mostly. Ironically, I thought, the only light was in the cemetery. It shined like a refuge. The deer seem to enjoy it. And I started to think about Harold and Maude. It's the cemetery connection, I think. It might be time to watch that film yet again. I do kind of wish it had been a series, like All Creatures Great and Small, that I could enjoy in an episodic way for weeks instead of repeatedly two hours at a time. I have no idea how many times I have watched Harold and Maude, but it is a lot and I'm not certain why. I keep thinking I am learning something when I see the film. Can you learn something without knowing what it is?I'm sure I have learned a lot from All Creatures Great and Small. Well, wait...let me back up...I have seen outstanding examples of what I should be learning -- how to handle stress and hardship with style, dignity, and a pint of bitters, for example -- but I am not convinced I have yet learned how to apply these examples into my own routine of stress and such. I'll watch Harold and Maude tonight and see if I can sort out what I should be learning there...But back to my walk.I will own up to becoming irrationally uneasy in the woods as I continued. But I'll also admit to finding some thrill in that. If someone had unexpectedly appeared from behind a tree, I would have shrieked like a child. This reminds me of a tip, in a roundabout way. While walking in the woods looking for wildlife, it is useful to turn around every so often and look behind you. You will be surprised at how often you see an animal back there watching you walk away. It is also a good way to protect yourself from The Headless Horseman and other creepy things that lurk in the woods at night.I did seem to be sneaking up on a lot of small animals. My shoes are exceptionally quiet, which reminds me that I need to contact the good people at Filson and complain about my squeaky Highlander Boots for which I spent a nice sum. My pals call me squeaky when I wear them. They are more of an annoyance than anything. Silence in the woods is important, but I doubt it is the most important thing a person on the prowl needs to worry about. Most animals will smell you before they see or hear you. Sometimes I think if you just go plowing through the woods you might blend in better anyway...maybe get mistaken for a moose or a bear. The animals might know the difference, but fellow hikers on the trail might not know the difference.Make sure hunters have a good ethic and shoot only at what they can see. (More on hunting in a post to follow.)As you can see I survived my stroll through the woods. I did see another racoon. (He seemed rather impatient with me, too, before turning back on the path and walking away.) And I saw a rabbit...oh, I have to talk about the rabbit. Bear with me. This rabbit stayed on the path ahead of me for a good twenty yards. I'm not sure why it did not dart into the brush like the other rabbits, but then...how does it turn out in Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?...I thought I might be falling for a trap, so I turned and went down another path which...went deeper into the woods! Then I thought...Aha! So that is it! You want me to over think this and go down that path!...so I turned back around quite smartly and -- poof! -- the rabbit was gone.Guess what...I think I outsmarted a rabbit! And with that, I will leave you alone.Lake Harriet Sunset. Walking Home.

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Is It Just Me or Is It Just Sunday?

Lake Harriet, West Shoreline, Late Spring 2011.

Everything is awfully quiet.  Even the around-the-clock news coverage of Hurricane Irene has lost a lot of its hype.  Yes, I know that’s a big storm and a big deal, but there’s only so much a person needs to know and storms have a way of passing quickly.  Unless that storm goes by the name Gadaffi, that sort of trouble can linger a bit.  Everything else, however, is rather calm and quiet newswise.  Even the idiots on the right are staying quiet today.

So I took myself for a nice long walk.  I will need to learn how to share my GPS tracks — with photos would be great — but until that happens you’ll just have to trust that my walk was a pleasant meandering wander.  (I also need to figure out how to fix Zemanta on WordPress!)

I walked along the west side of Lake Harriet, past the very active bandshell and Bread and Pickle, then back to the Roberts Bird Sanctuary.  Plenty to see.  Muskrats, deer, and many butterflies and birds.  Out the other side of the bird sanctuary I then roamed into the Lyndale Park Rose Garden, a much-underappreciated park, in my opinion.  With its large fountains and well-maintained grounds it feels like what I imagine a real urban park of years ago would have been.

Then I wandered back toward home where I found an interesting sign describing a project to study urban trees.  A lot to read there.  I’ll have to go back.  And I met and finally talked to a woman I see in the neighborhood quite often.  Her name is Marie and she’s an older woman from — I am guessing — South America.  Her English is difficult to follow, but I understand she is trying to get a Minnesota nursing license so she can get back to work.  It sounds like a tedious and costly endeavor.  I’m not sure why she let her license lapse, but that seems to be an issue complicating things.

A Man, A Dog, and A Banjo.

The beach on the north side of the lake wasn’t as busy as it is on the hotter midsummer days, but plenty of people were there enjoying one of the last days of summer.  An even larger crowd gathered down at the bandshell.  A band was set up for the afternoon.  I have no time for that, however.  I continued home.

And that’s about it.  Nothing really to report or write about today.  Not doing much more than sitting, reading, and watching old films.  Tomorrow starts another busy week.  A lot to do then so now enjoying today.

One last thing…don’t forget your summer dinners.  I’m doing old-style hot dogs, corn on the cob, baked beans, and sliced tomatoes.  Wish I had potato salad.  (Do the worries really need to start again tomorrow?)

 

A Late Day Stroll

Today might be considered a moderately successful sales day, but nothing special happened.  The day was quite dull, as a matter of fact, until I took advantage of the pleasant weather at the end of the day.

Let me give you a quick summary of what I saw today and then walk you through it.  First, I saw deer twice today; saw plenty of squirrels, a racoon, and other furry varmints; and found a wide range of birds, including a crash-landing mallard and an owl’s nest, with owls in it!  And all of this was seen within a mile of home.  I didn’t have to leave the city.

In fact my first deer spotting was early in the day.  A good-sized, healthy deer was in a hurry to find some cover at the end of my street and on the edge of the city’s parks.  It was that deer that inspired me to take a late afternoon walk.

I nearly cancelled my walk because a block away from home I realized that I forgot to wear a belt.  I hate forgetting my belt.  Pants without a belt is like Sonny without Cher.  It doesn’t work.  I also forgot to zip my pants.  Perhaps I am losing my mind…I’m trying to be careful and not say anything politically incorrect…let’s just say I decided to take advantage my still intact ability to choose for myself, zipped up my fly, and continued with my walk trying not to think about the belt.

I went to the Roberts Bird Sanctuary again and…what else?…say a lot of birds.

This is where I saw a large mallard duck; it was on the path ahead of me cooling off in the shade.  I posed no threat, but he decided to fly off anyway and I think we both learned quickly that ducks don’t fly well in heavy brushy cover.

A Duck on the Path. Almost.

The mallard attempted to muscle his way through some budding branches and that didn’t work out so well.  The duck didn’t stay aloft and all but pin-wheeled into the slough along the trail.  No worries though.  The duck recovered well and shook off any embarrassment quickly.

Crows are much better flying through branches.  I bring that up because they are big birds but still weave a pretty course through the trees.  Of course the real champs are all of those little birds…and woodpeckers…that zip through branches as if guided by a wire.

The picture above shows where the mallard duck was before he crashed.  My camera isn’t quite fast enough to capture swift flight so just picture a big old duck heading for the branches to the right…and then crashing.

I took a little detour up toward the cemetery.  I like that cemetery.  It is a good place to go for a walk, but I have decided that I am a bit old now to be climbing over the treefalls that break the cyclone fence separating the cemetery from the bird sanctuary so I haven’t walked the cemetery in a couple years.  (I also discovered that it is hard to climb back over the treefall in the dark.  That’s when the goblins and old Aunt Bessie get you.  Watch out!)

Lakewood Cemetery as seen from Roberts Bird Sanctuary

I still like to look at the cemetery.  It looks quiet and peaceful.  It looks like a cemetery.

Putting all expected jokes aside, wouldn’t you like to spend a little time wandering about this spot?  You can.  No need to wait until you’ve passed on.  Do it now.  Just go for a walk.

As I snapped a couple pictures I heard people coming coming up the path so I thought I would get going and keep some distance between myself and others.

Birdwatchers frequent this small park, naturally enough, and birdwatchers are an interesting group.  Invariably they have bad haircuts and not a lick of fashion sense, but they seem to be content.  When I see them obsessing through pricey binoculars at some common sparrow as if they were seeing a penguin or something, I wonder where I took the wrong turn.

Don’t underestimate happiness.

So I walk on.

About halfway down the trail is a large swaying tree that holds the owl’s nest.  I have heard owls from my bedroom window at night and at last I have the chance to see them up close.  It is a Great Horned Owl and two “chicks,” if something the size of a basketball can still be called a chick.

A couple of women had stopped to watch the owls.  I thought a joke would be a fun way to approach the pair so I looked up at the adult owl perched on the end of a dead branch and said to the laides:  “Whoah! Is that your cat?”

Owls in a Tree. Adult and one of two chicks.

I thought it was funny as hell.  The two ladies didn’t seem to think so or didn’t hear me.  They just looked at me, then each other, then the owls.

They are very large and impressive, the owls, and actually do look like large cats or something up there.  Maybe they look like midget Uncle Festers.  I don’t know.  But once you figure out it is an owl you’re looking at, you pretty much see an owl.

I wish I had a better camera for these photos, but I don’t.  So you see what I see.  Giant blobs of bird on branches.

Deciding I had seen enough of the owls, I moved on and while looking up into the trees I was interrupted by a girl who snuck up on me and barked out “What are you looking for?”

I wish I had had the foresight to say something straining to be clever like “Tinkerbell and her twelve dwarves” but I only managed to say “birds.”  I was ready to brush the child aside, but when I looked at her I realized she was Mary Call!  You know Mary Call, the protagonist from Where the Lilies Bloom?  Oh, golly, I had a crush on Mary Call…and here she was, all rough and rustic and wise about the woods.

Where The Lilies Bloom. Mary Call is on the right.

I didn’t say anything but looked at the girl and this cued the precocious one to tell me all the birds I might find:

“Well, mister, this is the place for birds!  There are sparrows and hawks and woodpeckers and even some blue grosbeaks — those are my favorites — and you can hear the chickadees easier than you can see them, calling out ‘Phoebe’ (and don’t confuse them with the Black-Throated Blue Warbler because a lot of people do even though you almost never see them) and of course robins fly everywhere but my dad and I hope to find a gnatcatcher…”

Do you see why it is sometimes hard to like kids?  I was torn between wanting to swat the kid away and take her picture.  Concluding that neither would be a good idea for man my age to do on a secluded wooded trail, I quietly backed away from the chatty young girl and continued on my walk.  I would guess she’s still talking, by the way.

It isn’t that I am not social, I just like to be social on my own terms.  In fact I sometimes like to make someone happy with a cheerful hello and I quickly had my opportunity.  Coming toward me on the trail was a shy timid woman — a ginger ale drinker, for sure — and I thought I would make her happy with a confident greeting.

I made her happy, all right…happy to get away!  In fact this is a picture of her catching her breath down the trail a ways.  I did decide to take her picture.  (I pretended to be focused on a rarely seen Black-Throated Blue Warbler because I had been told they can be found in this preserve.)  Anyway, happy to get away or just plain happy, either way I feel like I fulfilled my good intentions.

After making that lonely woman happy, I was about finished with my walk through the woods and I returned home walking back along the north shore of Lake Harriet where a mixture of other sites abound, tonight — sadly — mostly people too old and too out of shape to be running running.

But I did see two mallard hens each with a string of little pomps following behind already swimming in the lake.  We have a pair of loons on the lake again, too.  Earlier in the spring, like most springs, several loons stop off on Lake Harriet for a few days.

So that’s it.  Let’s end this abruptly.  Enough bird watching for one day.  Time for a well earned nap.