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.

A Walk in the Park

Marking an Engagement.

I took a short walk along the west shore of Lake Harriet and then back through the Roberts Bird Sanctuary, a little wooded marshland between the lake’s north shore and Lakewood Cemetery.  Generally this is a peaceful little walk, but today people out for Easter walks crowded the path a little.

So I went off the beaten path a little and found this plaque hanging on a rather unimpressive tree.  The plaque marks an engagement.  It is dated 8/24/05 and reads “Here with this tree as witness we were engaged.”

The plaque doesn’t face any active paths and I’m sure few people have seen it.  Does anyone know the story?  Nice plaque.  I enjoy finding little surprises like that.  It adds something nice to the city.

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