The Rambling Wren

Hairy Woodpecker Pays a Visit

2012-02-12T09:10:00.001-05:00

We have a number of regular visitors to our feeders--cardinals and chickadees, downy and red-bellied woodpeckers, titmice, nuthatches, doves and jays. A somewhat less common visitor is the Hairy Woodpecker.

Very similar in appearance to the downy, the hairy is larger (about 2.5 inches longer) and more boldly marked. I like to say the downy looks like an un-made bed, at least compared to the hairy.

While the downy is seemingly fearless (I had one eat seeds from my hand a few weeks ago at a local park) the hairy is much more cautious and skittish. This handsome fellow hopped around the cherry tree outside the studio for several minutes before approaching the feeders.

Finally he flew up to the post and snacked on some suet. Click on this image to see the subtle color and detail around this fellow's beak.

Pretty bird!

Creeper!

2012-02-05T08:50:00.000-05:00

After my disappointing photographic experience in East Tawas, where I had an opportunity to get some great shots of some fairly uncommon birds and blew it because I am not used to shooting small, moving objects, I decided to spend some time experimenting with my camera. So I took my equipment out to the studio and set the long lens up on a tripod and played around with exposures.

What I determined is that to get birds with no blur, the shutter speed needs to be at least 1/500 of a second, preferably 1/1000 or greater. That means it has to be a pretty bright day, and that one has to have really good equipment. A long (telephoto) lens by its nature lets in less light than a shorter lens--the light has to travel farther to reach the camera. So a good telephoto lens has to have a much wider diameter to allow sufficient light to stop action, like birds. But a larger diameter means bigger glass and that raises the cost significantly. A 600mm f4.0 (meaning a large opening to allow lots of light) lens can run you--I kid you not--$10,000. Those of us of modest means simply can't afford that, so we make do with what we've got, and will be limited to getting the best results only under the best conditions.

At any rate, I was having fun shooting the birds through the studio windows (kind of like a huge blind). I was focused on some birds in a large red pine when movement on the cherry tree to my left caught my eye. I looked and OH MY GOSH a Brown Creeper! I swung the camera around just in time to get this shot of him.

This is one of those birds who I just thrill to see. They are not all that common, although I've had one hanging around the studio in winter for the past couple years. I had seen this bird a week or so before so knew he'd returned, but this was my first chance to catch him with the camera.

It didn't take long before he started creeping up and around the tree.

I am fascinated with his coloring. I thought at first that these shots were really blurry but I went back and looked at the first one and realized that his coloring is like that naturally. Whereas so many birds' markings are bold and well defined, this little guy's colors are soft and blend into one another.

What perfect camouflage--no wonder they're so hard to spot!

Brown Creepers are in the family of chickadees and nuthatches. They cling to the trunks of trees and glean insects. They tend to move up the tree, whereas nuthatches tend to move down--a subtle difference but one worth noting. I've never seen him on a feeder, so I wonder if he's coming around looking for bits of seeds the other birds may have left behind in the trees. Both the nuthatches and the woodpeckers take peanuts to the trees, cram them in a crevasse and bash them to bits. Perhaps the creeper is picking up the pieces.

After this last photo he flew off to another tree where the light was not so good, so I gave up. I was happy to have gotten a few shots of this elusive little bird!

Au Sable River Walk

2012-02-01T11:38:00.000-05:00

Our last day in East Tawas dawned a fiery red. The warmth of the sunrise belied the frigid temperatures outside.

The bright dawn didn't last long, however. A strong southerly wind pressed the clouds northward and closed off the sun. It also pushed to shore the ice that had been far out on the lake, and as far as we could see ice like shards of glass undulated with the waves.

With the change in weather we decided there would be even less to see out at Tawas Point, so we drove up to the Au Sable River instead to take a leisurely walk in the woods were we'd be more protected from the wind. A few miles down River Road from Oscoda is Eagle Run, a network of trails maintained primarily for cross country skiing. It's a nice place to hike, too, and with so little snow we didn't think we'd be in the way of any skiers.

We parked at the boat launch and walked out to a fishing dock along the southern bank of the river. Here we heard the park's namesake eagle, calling from somewhere up river, but they never showed themselves.

Walking back up the road we picked up one of the trails and passed through a stand of red pine. Karin's sharp eye spotted this Roughed Grouse perched high in a tree. I had my short lens so couldn't get much of a photo, but at least it's proof!

We didn't walk far, just enough to loosen up and work up an appetite. One more look at the river and we turned around a headed back to the car. We stopped at Los Quatro Amigos for lunch (very good Mexican food!) and hit the road.

We never did see a Snowy Owl, but as just about everyone knows (NBC Nightly News will have a segment tonight about them) they have migrated quite far south this year, spotted in places like Oklahoma and Missouri. Lori and I will be driving over to Saint Joseph and Lake Michigan this Friday to visit a bookstore and to watch a live art show jury (which I hope will be very educational!) so maybe we'll get lucky yet and spot one along the water there. Still it was nice to get away for a weekend and especially nice to add two more birds to my "life list".

Artwork--"Baltimore"

2012-01-27T17:26:00.001-05:00

I have one more post from our Tawas trip from a few weeks ago, a short walk down the banks of the Au Sable River, but I wanted to get this up as I just finished it this afternoon:

"Baltimore", 10x8, colored pencil on Bristol board.

This is a bird that showed up on our balcony several years ago, and I had completely forgotten about it until I was looking through some miscellaneous photos in a folder on my computer. I really liked the pose, and even though I just did a piece with orioles in it last fall ("The Offering") I decided to go ahead and do this one too. This size original is my best selling size, and I need to have a boat load of them when the season starts. I have a long way to go!

Next up I think will be a Dark-eyed Junco. I have a client whose been asking about one, but until recently I didn't have any poses I was all that excited about. I do now, though, so hope to get started on it next week.

The Not-So-Common Common Redpoll

2012-01-25T12:47:00.000-05:00

After seeing the Long-tailed Duck--which everyone was excited about--we were pretty satisfied, and not feeling so bad about not seeing a Snowy Owl. As we walked back down the pier, the girls pointed out some small finch-like birds in the weeds along the shore. Once again binoculars went up, and I hurried over with my camera.

(Remember, click on an image to see a slide show of full-sized images! They look much better bigger.)

Well, the day got better still! There among the milkweed was a small flock of Common Redpolls!

I had only seen this bird once before, during our second winter here in Pinckney. We had a good sized flock--15 to 20 birds--show up at our feeders for several weeks in January. This was so much better, seeing them in a more natural habitat.

They were quite intent on eating and didn't pay much attention to us.

The female lacks the purple-ish breast of her male counterpart.

Redpolls are a winter visitor to Michigan, breeding in the sub-arctic regions far to our north. Food supply determines how far south they venture, and so they are often a highly desired bird of those keeping a list. I was thrilled to get to see them again.

Redpolls are fairly nondescript it until you see them head on. I just love their rosy foreheads and yellow bills.

This little lady paused to check me out, her sweet face hidden behind the stem.

Short Walk on a Long Pier: The Long-tailed Duck

2012-01-23T09:32:00.000-05:00

On the drive up to the house where we stayed we passed through East Tawas. U.S. 23 passes very near Tawas Bay here, and we noticed a number of waterfowl dotting the surface. I thought it might be a good place to come back to, so after we left the park we drove back to town and stopped at the East Tawas State Dock. This is quite an impressive structure, able to dock over 100 boats and offering electric, gas, showers and pump-out services.

Photo courtesy Michigan DNR

There was a lot more ice around the pier than there had been the day before, but as we approached the dock we could see some waterfowl out in the bay. I guessed they were mergansers, but then I noticed a much larger bird closer to shore, diving just beyond the thin ice. I moved to the railing and waited for it to surface.

I wasn't sure what it was, and for that I was excited, since it probably meant it was not a bird I'd seen before. When it dove again I walked farther down the pier. Once again it broke the surface, but dove quickly. As it dove I caught a glimpse of its tail and I knew what we'd spotted.

A Long-tailed Duck!!

Such a pretty thing, it is not all that common here in Michigan, at least inland. Sibley's shows its winter range to include the Great Lakes, but it tends to frequent the ocean coasts. I remembered the conversations of some of the birders I was with at the festival in Tawas last year--one of these birds had been spotted (at great distance) at the Foote Dam Pond on the Au Sable River, and there was much excitement about it. This is a bird that breeds in the Arctic, and to have one in Michigan in May caused quiet a stir.

We watched it dive, its tail feather last to submerge, and wondered at an animal so suited to a life in frigid waters.

Another "life list" bird, great payment for birding on such a chilly afternoon!

I didn't post many images of this bird because not that many came out very well. That is entirely my fault, and I learned a good lesson here about shooting wildlife. I rarely shoot with the camera in full auto mode, knowing the camera isn't going to think like I do. But that means I actually have to think and pay attention to what is happening. When shooting moving objects with a long lens, shutter speed is of the utmost importance. A fast shutter speed is needed to stop the motion of the animal you're trying to photograph, and helps stop the effects of camera movement as well.

I have always been more of a landscape photographer, where depth of field is more important than stopping movement, so I have always shot in aperture priority mode (I set the aperture, which determines depth of field, and the camera picks the corresponding shutter speed). But what happened with the Long-tailed Duck is that the aperture setting I had chosen forced the camera to pick a shutter speed much too slow to stop any movement (usually around 1/40th of a second). I wasn't paying any attention, too excited about the duck to pay attention to what the camera was doing. There are other factors that contributed to the blurry photos, but this is the main one. So from now on, the camera that has the long lens will always be in shutter priority mode, and I will try not to let my excitement ruin my pictures!!

Next: Common Redpolls by the pier.

Snow Buntings!

2012-01-21T09:48:00.000-05:00

We walked slowly along the beach at Tawas Point State Park, scanning the peaks and valley and stands of dune grass on this sandy peninsula for any sign of a Snowy Owl. It is probably only because we were looking so carefully that I noticed the two small birds before I got close enough to scare them away. I stopped dead in my tracks and got the camera on them. When I peered through the lens I gasped.

SNOW BUNTINGS!!

I waved to the girls to get them to stop and pointed the birds out to them. Binoculars went up, followed by oohs and ahhs.

I don't know why, but this is one of those birds that I have wanted to see for years. They are not really all that uncommon around here in the winter, and I may have seen a whole flock of them in a field on the side of the road as we were zipping along in the Jeep a few years ago, but I didn't have a chance to actually ID them. There was no doubt this time! I am pretty sure these are two females.

The pair moved over the snow covered beach picking seeds off the dried winter weeds and grasses.

They were far enough away that I couldn't focus on them easily, not to mention the stiff breeze that was blowing under my glasses and making my contacts go wanky. I had to rely on the autofocus, and it was picking up the grasses in front of the birds rather than the birds themselves. Ah well, I am still thrilled that I got shots of them.

The snow was soft enough that they often sank down into the snow, and sometimes when they ran it looked like they were scooting along on their bellies.

It was not too long before my fingers and thumb started to ache from the cold. Fortunately the birds finished their scavenging and moved off farther down the beach. What a wonderful experience though to finally get to see these beautiful little birds! (Check out this link for more info on the Snow Bunting from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.)

Next: A visit to the East Tawas pier, and another "life list" bird!

Winter Found at Tawas State Park

2012-01-19T09:48:00.001-05:00

Remember a week or so ago I was commenting--NOT complaining--that winter had gone AWOL around here. Very little snow, very mild temperatures.

Well, we found winter up in East Tawas.

Two to three inches of snow fell early Friday, and we arrived to a town awash in white (on some pretty crappy roads). After the winds and snow the weather cleared, but the temps also dropped, and Saturday morning saw a frigid 7 degrees. Well, we had come prepared, and were not about to be deterred in our quest for Snowy Owls. So we bundled up and drove down to Tawas Point State Park.

Lisa, Lori and me at Tawas Point. Photo by Karin.

When we got to the park it was about 15 degrees with a wind from the north between five and 10 mph. That doesn't seem like much but it made for wind chills around zero. Exposed or poorly covered skin got painfully cold in a hurry.

I was also concerned about my photo equipment. I'd never had it out in temps that low and didn't know how it would perform. Turned out it was fine, and the only problems were with the operator.

Before reaching the beach we came upon a pond criss-crossed by fox tracks. You can see where the animal slipped and slid on the ice after coming off the bank to the right.

It was pretty brutal on the beach but luckily the wind was at our backs, making it tolerable. The fresh snow made the search for a white bird that much more complicated. We scoured hummocks and grasses up and down the shore.

While the lake was open here at the point, the frigid temps were evident along the shore. Even the midday sun was not warm enough to thaw these rocks.

Despite the temperatures it was a beautiful day.

We reached the end of the point and stopped for a few minutes. We had seen no owls, and with the exception of two birds on the beach (you'll read about them in my next post), we hadn't seen any birds at all. I'm sure they were hunkered down, keeping warm.

We decided against walking up the other side of the point, which would have put us walking straight into the wind, and instead took the broad path that runs up the middle, a more sheltered option.

We enjoyed the scenery along the path, and did finally see some juncos.

As we neared the parking lot the trail opened up to the lighthouse grounds. This popular and well-preserved light is reported to be haunted. Apparently it was too cold even for the ghosts--the place was utterly deserted.

We were happy to get back to the car and out of the wind. It was early still, so we decided to drive to the pier to see if we could spot any waterfowl. But first, we'll take a look at who we found on the beach!

Next: The first of two "life list" birds on our Tawas trip!

Dawn on Lake Huron

2012-01-17T10:15:00.000-05:00

We have made it an annual thing now, to spend a weekend somewhere in Michigan in the winter, just for fun. The original plan was to go up to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore on Lake Michigan, but after getting a newsletter from Michigan Audubon that six Snowy Owls had been spotted at Tawas Point State Park on Lake Huron, we decided to head there instead. Tawas is where the birding festival I attended last year was held, where I added 12? birds to my "life list". We found a three bedroom house for rent right on the water for a great price (winter rates), called up our friend Karin from Traverse City, and we all met there Friday night.

By the time we got settled it was dark so we had to wait till morning to really see the place. Dawn brought a glorious sunrise, spreading across a frigid Lake Huron (the air temperature was seven degrees).

I grew up on a lake (not as big as this one!) and I miss it horribly. I could spend hours on the shore, just watching and listening to the nuances of the water. The cold had brought ice to the surface of the great lake, and it crinkled across the small swells.

Each moment is different, every place you look a new texture, color.

The horizon is ill-defined, seemingly infinite. Waves and swells break the line between water and sky.

Winds from the west spread out across the surface, winding between the ice sheets.

Just as I was finishing up Lori spotted a dark shape moving down the coast. "Eagle!" she cried. Sure enough, gliding south down the shore was this magnificent Bald Eagle. No time for adjusting the exposure, I got a couple shots before the bird moved out of sight.

It was going to be a good day!

Next: Tawas Point

Where's Winter?

2012-01-12T12:00:00.002-05:00

Winter has gone AWOL.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. We've had some rough winters here the last few years and I am perfectly happy with a mild winter. We are getting out more, our chickens are getting out more (and as a result producing more eggs) and our heating bill is much lower. I even saw an American Robin in our crab apple tree this morning, the earliest I've ever seen one here.

We've been taking advantage of the warm weather to start getting in shape for some backpacking this summer. I've been in the backcountry on a few occasions (see my posts about Pictured Rocks) but Lisa and Lori have not. We've done plenty of camping and have lots of gear for car camping (plus the old RV we use for shows) but have needed to outfit ourselves for the backcountry, which calls for completely different gear--and completely different conditioning. So we've been walking a few miles every other day or so, working up to greater lengths until we add packs and gradually increase their weight.

Hiking in winter is really very pleasant. No bugs, no crowds, and if you dress right you stay warm but don't overheat. The light at this time of year is gorgeous with a warm, yellow cast that angles through the trees and lights them top to bottom.

We searched for signs of winter but they were few and far between. Temps in the 40's made for happy mosses, whose spore casings quivered in the breeze.

Some of the small ponds had a thin layer of ice, but that was it. No snow anywhere.

We hiked out to a marsh to hear some running water and see what was happening. We found some coyote scat and tracks along with some colorful plants, like red osier dogwood.

Some fluffy thimbleberries stood tall along the trail, their seeds dispersed.

Winterberry competed with the dogwood for most colorful. These berries ripen late in the season and therefore aren't usually eaten until late winter. A holly that's native to Eastern North America, it's a welcome sight in depths of winter.

The walk back to the car brought us along the shore of Chenango Lake, where we sometimes go fishing in summer. The sun lit the far shore.

The line between new and old ice made interesting patterns across the surface of the lake. It's been so warm I was surprised to see any ice at all.

It looks like the weather is going to change tonight, with a cold front moving through and bringing cold, wind and, yes, snow.

Squirrel Wars

2012-01-10T21:11:00.000-05:00

There seems to be a lot of violence around here lately. First woodpeckers fighting over suet, now red squirrels fighting over seeds. Guess they've seen too many GOP primary attack ads.

But like battles waged over the air, these local wars rarely lead to any actual harm for the participants. Usually there's just a lot of noise and gesturing and puffing up to make oneself look bigger than their opponent.

I have a terrible habit of not taking my camera with me when I go out to the studio to work. I've missed deer, fox and rabbit, and many a grand show put on by posturing birds squabbling over seed. But on this day, back in November, I had my camera ready when two red squirrels quarreled over a feeder stocked with black oilers and peanuts.

My feeders are pretty squirrel proof, so when I am out in the studio I put a half cup of seed in the "squirrel feeder", this old tin-roofed model nailed to an old barn beam. The squirrels know the sound of seed in the feeder and are usually there within a minute or two. On this occasion, however, two showed up in quick succession. A brief battle ensued.

I'm pretty sure I heard the food bucket.

Oh crap, it's occupied.

Oops, he saw me.

I'll make a quick pass to the other side.

Can he see me under here?

Guess so.

I'll try the front again. Uh oh....

Pow! Bam! Bitch slap!!

The interloper finally defeated, the king of the feeder can finish his lunch.

Bird Wars

2011-12-28T11:10:00.001-05:00

(In sorting through some miscellaneous photo folders a few weeks ago I came across these pics I shot last winter but had completely forgotten about. I am happy to be able to share them with you now!)

I was up in my office working one afternoon (the living room has a loft above it and my desk is in the small library at the top of the stairs) when I happened to look out the sliding doors in the living room and see this gorgeous flicker working at the suet. We had come up with the idea of attaching a cage to the deck rail so we could secure a suet block for those birds who don't cling or hang all that well. Hoping for Eastern Bluebirds we got everything but. However, I was excited to see the flicker, one of my favorite birds. Rather than risk scaring the bird away by coming down the stairs, I took some shots from the loft.

After only a few frames I saw another bird fly up. The flicker jump down off the suet cage and confronted the interloper.

Ah ha! A Red-bellied Woodpecker!

Much squawking and flailing of wings ensued. The flicker flashed his bright yellow plumage.

His rival vanquished, the flicker sat and watched for a few moments to see if he'd return.

Satisfied that he had won, he went back to eating his lunch.

Timing really is everything. To have caught this exchange was pure luck, especially considering the windows are behind me. It's always exciting to see the birds doing something other than eating, and to actually record it is even better!

Happy New Year to you and yours! May 2012 be the best year yet!

Artwork--Blue-grey Gnatcatcher

2011-12-20T19:29:00.001-05:00

After taking a lot of time to get the bobcat finished I wanted to do a small piece that I could complete a little more quickly so I could feel like I'd gotten something accomplished. I have a number of pieces ready to go at any time--I get the images ready and the main composition sketched out so when I'm ready to start another piece I have several I can choose from, depending on my mood.

"Blue & Grey", 6 x 9, colored pencil on Bristol board.

I chose the gnatcatcher because I wanted to play around with some background, and I have the time (and therefore the mental space) to experiment this time of year.. I have done very few pieces with any background at all, other than a branch or tree that the animal is sitting on or clinging to, and I've never done any with a complete background. This image was perfect, one that I shot on the final day of the Tawas Point Birding Festival this past spring. It was cold, windy and raining, and the overcast made it quite dark out. I had to shoot wide open to get enough light so the result was a very shallow depth of field and a blurred background. I like that the cross-hatching is visible in the background as it gives the piece movement, and reminds me of the driving rain this little bird had to endure.

Any feedback you'd like to give--positive or negative--would be greatly appreciated!

American Kestrel

2011-12-16T10:45:00.000-05:00

I cannot resist birds of prey. Striking, bold and intelligent, I find their watchful ways captivating and endearing.

This little American Kestrel is a ward of the Howell Nature Center. Suffering from a damaged wing and no longer able to fly he serves as an educator and entertainer for kids of all ages, including me. Puffed up against the cold he looked twice his normal size.

The light this day was just wonderful if a little bright.

While I watched he fanned out his tail feathers and stretched and wiggled.

I love the lines in this shot. I may find another photo with his head in a similar position and draw this one.

What a poser!

Artwork--Bobcat

2011-12-13T17:43:00.003-05:00

Well this was a long time coming, and I am so glad it's done. It's been over 20 years since I drew a bobcat and it was high time I did another. I was looking forward to doing another cat too, as my last one was a snow leopard nearly three years ago. I've had several people tell me already it's their favorite to date, so it was well worth the time.

A North American native, the range of this ubiquitous cat covers nearly all of the lower 48 states, down into most of Mexico and up across the border into southern Canada. There are very elusive, however, and it's not easy to catch a glimpse of one. I have yet to see one in the wild, although I am pretty sure Lisa and I spooked one--and it spooked us--on a trail in Florida.

This particular cat is at the Howell Nature Center. Once a pet, he was either released or escaped in autumn several years ago and eluded capture until late that winter, by which time he was nearly starved to death. Wild animals raised in captivity may retain many of their wild attributes but one thing they don't learn is how to hunt. So now he lives in a comfy enclosure at the nature center. I think he was hoping I had the food cart.

I don't have a name for this piece yet, but hope to come up with something soon. Will probably have something to do with his eyes.

Birds In Detail

2011-12-09T12:08:00.001-05:00

Quite some time ago, over a year ago as a matter of fact, I stopped reading one of my favorite bloggers. She had been writing about the grandfather of natural history artists, John James Audubon. She'd had an opportunity to view some of his original watercolors up close and the posts were fascinating to say the least.

Then one day she started talking about style and technique. Audubon worked primarily in watercolor, and while his paintings were very realistic and finely detailed he did not attempt to paint every detail on every feather. This blogger and fellow artist then compared Audubon's work to that of another artist whose name I do not now recall who worked in acrylics. She posted an image of this other fellow's work, which I thought rather well done, and went on to publically dis him. His bird was also very realistic but apparently contained too high a level of detail for this blogger. Her comment was that if this bird showed up in her yard she would put it into rehab. She felt that there was too much detail, detail that couldn't be seen and therefore shouldn't be painted.

I was profoundly disappointed in this woman and not because my own work is highly detailed. I was appalled that she would take such a cheap shot at another artist and publically shame him and his work. Art is highly subjective and what one person hates another may love. Just because detail work is not what you enjoy or what you're good at doesn't mean that it's wrong--I simply don't believe there is a wrong and right way to make one's art. (Probably one of the reasons I never went to art school. I wasn't interested in having someone tell me I was doing it wrong.)

Perhaps she was trying to make herself feel better about her own style of work--we often make fun of others in order to make ourselves feel superior. But whatever the case I was no longer interested in following this blogger.

I write about this now because after I got my good lens fixed I sat down behind our sliding glass doors to take pictures of the birds on the balcony. Looking over the images later I was amazed, as I have been before, at how sharp the pictures are and how much detail can be seen. At a distance birds look sleek and smooth. But up close, especially on a windy day or when they're singing, they are rumpled and fluffed, and every feather really can be seen.

So I say now to the blogger who thinks detailed art is a bad thing, or that such fine detail can't be seen, I say, perhaps you need a better camera.

First Snow

2011-12-01T10:55:00.001-05:00

We had our first snow of the season Tuesday night. The day started with copious amounts of rain, more than two inches in some places, and it was a miserable day with temps in the mid 30's. By evening the temperatures dipped towards freezing and the rain changed to snow. With everything still wet from the rain the world was coated in white by Wednesday morning.

The birds, who had been hitting the feeders pretty hard all day Tuesday, returned Wednesday morning for a feast. I am always surprised to see my feathered friends after such a nasty night. I fear they will get frozen to a branch or encased in ice. But they know how to take care of themselves, and after the snow they come in droves.

Female Northern Cardinal

We have a crab apple tree off the balcony and many birds perch there while waiting their turns at the feeders. It's a wonderful opportunity to watch them and get some pics.

Chipping Sparrow and House Finch

Who can resist the beautiful red bird on a branch with tiny red apples?

Male Northern Cardinal

The Goldfinches are still gorgeous, even in their drab winter plumage. This one perched on a dogwood out the side window.

Male Goldfinch

No winter morning in the north would be complete without the jays. I know many people don't like these birds but I think they are beautiful and I admire their intelligence.

Blue Jay

Oh, how I do love winter!

Publicity

2011-11-30T19:50:00.001-05:00

Press releases are a great thing, and anyone who wants a little media attention should learn to write one. I don't know what took me so long, but I finally did it and it landed us a two page spread with three photos in our local paper, the Livingston County Daily Press & Argus.

After getting a story about the mural in Traverse City in the Traverse City Record Eagle I decided to see if I could drum up some local press based on the mural. The Traverse City story happened completely by chance--a woman from the paper was at the nature center to do an interview with one of the Conservation District's employees and just happened upon us, finishing up the mural. We had a nice chat with her and she took some photos, one of which I was able to send in with the press release.

Two weeks or so after sending out the press release we got a call from a reporter from the Press & Argus, saying he wanted to come out and interview us! We had just had our open house so the gallery was still put together and looking good. We all took showers and combed our hair and got our pics taken with a really wide angle lens, which makes my head look enormous, but I don't care.

Marie, Lori and Lisa

If you'd like to read the article, follow this link

We've had a lot hits on our website thanks to this, and a few phone calls for classes, so it was well worth the effort to put the press release together. I would recommend it to anyone who wants a little recognition for their work. Don't know how? Just Google "How to write a press release"!

Sandhill Crane Up Close

2011-11-29T09:43:00.001-05:00

Of all the birds out there I can definitively say that the Sandhill Crane is my favorite. We are blessed to live in an area where they are abundant and easily accessable. Their antics are endlessly entertaining, as gangly as they are graceful.

One of the things about sandhills that I find so fascinating are their eyes. Orangey-red like glowing coals they outshine even the hairless red cap these birds wear. Happy to finally have my good lens back I headed over the the Howell Nature Center the other day to photograph the coyote. Right across from the 'yote are the sandhills, one of whom has a terribly deformed beak. I don't know what is wrong with the other bird, but he was right up at the side of their enclosure--feeding time was near. What a treat to be so close and be able to see such detail.

Chicken Drama

2011-11-25T21:32:00.001-05:00

Well, I promised an update on the chickens so I guess I need to get to work. A lot has gone on in the past eight months so there is a lot to tell.

To catch up those of you who have not followed my blog for long, I will give a brief history. (You can also go to the list of labels on the left and click on "chickens".) In April of 2008 we bought eight days-old pullets at the local feed store. We raised them in a dog crate in the basement until they were old enough to go out to the coop, a bedraggled structure behind the house that was built by the previous owners. We free-ranged the girls in the afternoons and they put themselves to bed each night. All eight did splendidly, even our one-eyed chicken named Honey, and by September they were laying eggs.

The original eight, around 3 weeks old

All eight chickens made it through that first winter in that drafty, damp coop, but the following spring and summer we lost three of the hens to various ailments. That autumn we decided to build a new coop, one that was insulated, structurally sound and had a bigger pen. The following spring, 2010, we purchased four more pullets from the feed store, raised them in the basement and moved them to the old coop until they were big enough to introduce to the older hens. Halfway through the summer we started hearing odd noises from the new girls. Turns out two of them where not hens but roosters. This was of course a problem--one rooster was OK but we couldn't keep two. Luckily a friend had a friend who was looking for a rooster, so we sent one fellow off to a new brood and kept the other as he seemed less aggressive. The remaining three chickens were introduced to the older hens late that summer and while the older girls were not real keen on having a young cock in their midst, they all got on fairly well.

Rhodie as a gangly adolescent--look at those legs!

So that brings us to this year.

At the start of this year we had eight chickens--seven hens and a rooster. From our first brood we had Sister Joan, a Jersey Giant; Fancy, a bearded Americana; Marty and Emily, both Golden Comets; and Honey, some sort of mixed breed. The new chickens consisted of Rhodie, our Rhode Island Red rooster; Maryanne, a Golden-laced Wyandotte; and Ethel, a small Americana.

Egg laying had dropped way off over the winter. Chickens molt in the fall and do not produce eggs while they are growing new feathers. This year the older girls didn't produce at all, even after their molt. But by April they were finally starting to lay again, with Honey leading the way.

Honey had become something of a pet to me. She was blind in one eye, the result of an injury when she was a chick. She was picked on by the other hens, and perhaps because of this she learned I provided some safety. We would cuddle in the coop, me squatting and her scrunching between my knees, and I would rub her under her wings and stroke her head. She would follow me around the yard and was always the first one in line for treats. A real mamma's girl.

The relative calm we had experienced as chicken owners was about to be broken. The family that lives to our north, over a wooded ridge, got a bird dog, a German Short-haired Pointer, and I had seen the dog in our yard on a few occasions. I never got around to approaching the owners about it, and I should have, though I doubt it would have done much good. One afternoon in late April I heard an awful squawking from the back yard. At first I thought it was one of the chickens picking on Honey, but when the sound didn't stop I knew something else was up. I went charging up the hill in my rubber boots and carrying a pick ax, to see the neighbor's dog with Honey in his mouth. I screamed, and he ran up the hill, carrying her for a few steps before dropping her and running home. I scooped her up and followed. While she gasped her last breaths I berated the flustered woman who came to the door and swore I would call the cops or shoot the dog if I ever saw it on my property again. Then I had to break Honey's neck.

Needless to say that was one of my worst days.

Emily had not been doing well for several weeks, acting very lethargic, always poofed up, and she began to decline shortly after this. Within a few weeks we had to end her life. I won't go into the details.

We decided at this point to get four more chicks, but we wanted specific breeds, larger breeds that could handle our now large rooster. So in mid-May we found a "farm" in the area and purchased four chicks, two Barred Rocks and two Rhode Island Reds. We should never have bought birds from this woman. The place was filthy, the chicks crammed into tiny incubators, and I saw one chicken in a nearby cage with conjunctivitis. By the time we got them home they were lethargic, an a day later were blowing snot bubbles. We put them on antibiotics for a week and they seemed to improve. We kept them quarantined in the old coop, away from the healthy birds.

Then in June, when Lori and I were in Petoskey for a school presentation, Lisa called to tell us that the dog had come again, killed Maryanne (one of our newer girls) and had chased Rhodie down the road, pulling all of his tail feathers out but not catching him. We are pretty sure Rhodie was leading the dog away from the hens. Lisa chased the dog home, then made the owner and his two sons dispose of the dead chicken and help search for the rest of the scattered flock. They swore they would keep their dog in their yard. Lisa didn't call the Sheriff so I did when I got home two days later. It was too late for them to do anything but the officer did stop by and have a chat with the dog's owner.

By this time our other Golden Comet, Marty, was also not doing well, and we eventually had to put her down. That's four chickens dead in less than two months. We had also stopped letting the girls out every day, worried of course for their safety. But I hate having animals in cages, and while the coop and pen are spacious, it's still a cage, so the girls did continue to go out when someone was home. I was trusting that the dog's owner would keep his word.

We had a show up north over the 4th of July and my mother was house sitting. She let the hens out that evening, and near dusk heard an awful sound from behind the house. By the time she got there, there was nothing to see but a pile of feathers, and Sister Joan was missing. She accused the neighbor's dog of course but he swore the dog was never out of his sight. When we got home a few days later we looked for the bird but never found her. We did find a trail of feathers, but they did not lead toward the neighbor's house. We learned later that there was a fox den to the north of our neighbor's property, and his kids had seen kits. We suspected Mama Fox killed Sister Joan.

At this point we were down to two hens, Fancy and Ethel, and Rhodie, with four still sick chicks in the old coop. We had to get new antibiotics, and give the poor things shots in their breasts or thighs. We worried about Fancy and Ethel stuck with Rhodie--they say you should have eight hens for every rooster. We cut their outdoor time back again, and decided to try hard to be out with them to keep watch.

Well....

Again I was out of town when I got a call from Lori. It was late July. She had been sitting on the back deck with a rifle on her lap (for the woodchuck who was digging under my studio) when the chickens walked past and down to the front of the house. Moments later Rhodie and Ethel came running up the stairs and hid. Fancy was no where to be found. It was several days later as I was mowing the paths that I came across a pile of her feathers--another victim of the fox. And so in three months we lost all five of our original brood--Fancy was the last of our original eight, and her loss was especially hard as she was a beauty of a bird and one of our best layers.

Now we had a dilemma. One hen and one rooster was not going to work. The new brood was getting bigger and mostly healed of their respiratory ailment, so we decided to separate Rhodie, put him in the old coop, and put the new chickens in with Ethel. Within a week Rhodie was sick, and within three weeks so was Ethel. Not only that, but we began hearing crowing from the new chickens, who were, we had been assured, all females.

Well....

As it turned out, three of the four new chickens where roosters. I can't begin to describe how angry I was. We spent a lot of time and money making these birds healthy. The woman who we had gotten them from said if any where roos that we could bring them back for a refund. We had way more than $5.00 a bird into them but we knew we couldn't keep them. Rhodie was staying, there was no doubt about that, so we decided to slaughter the young roos and keep their meat.

This was an amazingly difficult thing to do. I had raised these birds, nursed them back to health. They were my friends, in the way that all pets become your friends. But we really didn't have much choice, so we pulled the birds from the coop one by one, and I thanked them, and cried, and we ended their lives. I never took any pictures of them--I must have known--but Lisa took this with her iPhone, me covered with chickens.

Me with the doomed brood #3. Both Rocks and the Rhode Island Red in my hand were roosters.

So now we were back down to two hens--one less than four months old--and a large rooster. I got on Craig's list and found a woman nearby who was moving and needed to give up a bunch of her birds. These were full-grown, which by late August was really the only way to go. We ended up buying six birds, four Barred Rocks and two Isa Browns, the latter really for the bird's benefit rather than ours. These were some of the most bedraggled looking birds I had ever seen, and they reeked. The house and yard were a mess, and while the birds were currently free, they had clearly been kept in very close and filthy quarters, as some of her birds still were. They were filthy and smelled terrible. Come to find out that she was good friends with the woman who had sold us the sick chicks back in May. Surprise surprise.

Ethel, from brood #2

While Rhodie was segregated in the old coop we had yet another incident. Shortly after a heavy rain had cleared out one evening, Lisa was in the kitchen and heard what she described as a baby wailing. She went running out the door with a broom, no idea what she would find. I was upstairs and followed a few seconds behind. What Lisa saw was Rhodie thrashing around in the mud of the pen, then she saw the weasel that was on his back, its reddish fur blending in with Rhodie's red feathers. It had him by the neck. She flung the door open and the weasel let go, then ran around the pen a few times looking for the hole through which it had entered. I arrived in time to see it scamper out. Rhodie lay in the dirt, on his stomach, head extended, motionless.

We stood with our hearts sinking when suddenly he lept up, bolted out of the pen, across the back yard, down the stairs and across the road into our neighbor's yard where he hid in a tangle of autumn olive, grape vine and dead branches. We tried to coax him out but he was having none of it. Covered in mud and blood we had no idea how badly he may have been hurt, but we had to leave him in the the shrubbery. After dinner and nearly dark I went back to the coop to see if he had returned. I peered inside but did not see him, but I heard a sound off to my right. I looked around and finally spotted him perched on top of the the pen, bedraggled but apparently OK. He let me lift him down and put him in the pen, and look him over briefly. Except for some scratches on his comb he was intact, and he nervously entered the coop and we shut him in for the night. We never saw the weasel again.

We are back to nine birds--the six new birds, (who haven't even all been named yet), Acorn, the lone hen from the chicks we got this spring, and Ethel and Rhodie, from last year's brood. We introduced Rhodie after letting the new girls get acclimated, and he seems happy to have a brood to watch over again. We have seen no sign of the fox, so we have decided to let them out occasionally, but only when we're home and able to check on them frequently. We did add on about 100 square feet of pen to the back of the coop so I feel better about it when they can't get out and range.

We had one more run in with the neighbor's dog just a few weeks ago. Lisa looked up to see Rhodie running for his life down the driveway, wings flapping. Once outside she saw the dog, right behind him. I was making dinner, and Lori, who had gone to fetch Lisa, came in out of breath to tell me about the dog--she had no idea if he'd gotten any of the hens. I went tearing out of the house and up the hill. Lisa had chased the dog home, and was already ripping the young man at the door a new one, so I added my two cents--or more like ten bucks worth. Oh, the profanity! I think we finally put the fear of God--or the crazed artists over the hill--into these boys. We eventually found all the hens, and once again I am pretty sure Rhodie was leading the dog away from the girls.

Three of the new Barred Rocks with Rhodie

So this afternoon I went out to get some photos of the new flock, who were in the garden eating bugs and broccoli. While I watched, Rhodie gave his alarm call, an odd purring sound, high and urgent. I looked up and saw a Cooper's Hawk pass over head.

That is one bird who is dedicated to his flock.

My hero.

Open House

2011-11-18T09:14:00.001-05:00

Just a quick post to let you all know we are having our 3rd Annual Holiday Open House/Open Studios/Book Signing here at Bear Track Studios tomorrow from 10 am to 6 pm. If you're in the area, stop by and say hello. We'll have work from all three Bear Girls, free refreshments and great conversation. 1877 Brandes Lane, Pinckney, MI. 734-223-8612 for more info.

I hope to be back to blogging next week. I am long overdue for a chicken update (it's been quite the stressful year) so look for that soon.

Cheers!!

Colors of November

2011-11-10T11:38:00.001-05:00

We've had some mild weather here in Southeast Michigan for the past week or so (until today, anyway--it's still only 39 degrees and it's nearly noon). We decided to take advantage of the last warm afternoon and go for a walk in the woods near our home.

It was 63 when we left the house, balmy by November standards. The woods were pretty much bare, and the trail was covered with a deep blanket of leaves. As we walked, wood frogs leaped from the cover of leaves, escaping our boots. These frogs actually freeze during the winter, burrowing just under the leaf litter to hibernate. Perhaps they were taking advantage of the warm weather to hunt for bugs. Spring peepers could be heard throughout the woods.

Wood frog

The colors in November are subtle here, the blazing trees now mostly bare. But color there is, if you look carefully. This leaf still holds the remnants of an earlier shower.


Big tooth aspen leaf

November challenges us to find beauty in patterns, too, like this fungus growing on the side of a downed tree.

Turkey tail fungus

Grasses give a splash of color and texture as they die back for winter.

This fern frond stood out against a backdrop of dead leaves, moss and pine needles.

Milkweed was exploding across the small meadow, and the air smelled of dried goldenrod.

Common milkweed

This late in the season much of the color that remains is low to the ground, like this tiny oak sapling. The fuchsia of its veins is startling in this dull landscape.

Mosses drape themselves over every available surface, enjoying the damp, cool weather. There are
12,000 species of moss, so I am not going to try to id this!

A white oak leaf rests on a dead log.

Lisa found this leaf, one of the last blazes of color in the woods. We couldn't find the tree it came from, so it must have blown in from elsewhere. I couldn't resist putting it on a background of moss, a harbinger of the coming holidays.

Hawk Mountain

2011-11-03T11:00:00.002-04:00

Last week I took a road trip with my mother to visit her sister, who lives on the east side of Pennsylvania. I had less than 24 hours to get ready to go, having gotten home from Traverse City and the mural job on Sunday mid-day, then leaving Monday morning for PA. While I was ready to be home I was still excited about this trip as my Aunt Terry and her husband Joe live about 45 minutes from Hawk Mountain Sanctuary. OK, I was excited to see them too, and to have four days of doing pretty much nothing (we played cards a lot), but to be able to combine this visit with a trip to Hawk Mountain near the peak of migration was a chance I would not pass up.

Tuesday was a bright sunny but breezy day. Wednesday held a chance of rain (which of course didn't materialize, at least at Terry's house) so we donned many layers and drove out to the mountains.

View from River of Rocks overlook

Hawk Mountain became the world's first raptor sanctuary in 1938. In the early 20th century many individuals as well as governments apparently believed all predatory animals were in direct competition with us, and people were actually encouraged to kill raptors on sight. The mountain ridge that includes Hawk Mountain is a major migratory route for birds of prey, who fly en-masse above its tree-lined slopes every autumn. Hunters would line the ridge and shoot as many birds as they could. Thousands and thousands of birds were slaughtered.

Enter Rosalie Edge. A conservationist from New York, she saw photographs taken by young ornithologist Richard Pough, who had travelled to the area and walked the woods, collecting the bodies of the dead birds to record images of the slaughter. In 1934 she leased 1,400 acres that included what the hunters called Hawk Mountain, banned hunting, then opened the area the following year to the public to come witness the migration. The property was purchased in 1938 and given to the Hawk Mountain Sanctuary Association.

Who says one person can't make a difference.

Climb to the North Lookout

It was a gorgeous climb up to the observation area. There were several groups of school kids, one of them from Philadelphia, who were having fun climbing on the rocks along the trail.

North Lookout

The official observer is stationed at the North Lookout. This person provides the official tally for the day, and calls out approaching birds to the rest of the bird watchers. We settled in a rather shady and breezy spot to wait and watch. On the top of a pole was a taxidermy owl. I was puzzled, as owls are usually used to keep unwanted birds away, but I later learned that this was to draw in younger, less experienced raptors who would come swooping in to chase the threat away.

West side of North Lookout, with stuffed owl "lure"

The birds seemed to be staying primarily to the north-west side of the ridge, riding the updraft from the cold west wind. I was not quite prepared when we arrived, and didn't have my longer lens out, thinking the birds would be too far away to get any reasonable shots of them. Thanks to this I missed a Bald eagle who passed quite close to where we sat. I was ready though when this Red-tail soared past.

Red-tailed hawk

I wish that I had the counts for the day we were there but their website only has listing through October 4th. (For the annual count to date, click here.) What I do recall is that it was peak Sharp-shinned hawk migration--every other bird was a "sharpie", a Blue jay-sized raptor that hunts primarily small birds.

Sharp-shinned hawk

There were also a lot of vultures, like this Black vulture. A nice treat since we don't seem to have them here in Southern Michigan.

Black vulture

We sat for about an hour, had a snack and tried to stay warm. Just as we were getting ready to leave another Red-tailed hawk flew directly overhead. I nearly fell over backwards trying to get shots of it. I would guess we saw 30 to 40 birds in the hour we spent there.

Red-tail two

It was well worth the hike up and back.

Hawk Mountain in Autumn

Artwork--"Indigo"

2011-10-31T14:35:00.001-04:00

I will never forget the first time I heard this bird sing. I was sitting on a log at the edge of a small meadow in the state land near my home. I was transfixed by his clear melody, and it took me several minutes to track down the singer. I was even more excited to find that song was coming from this beautiful creature.

Several years later, this past spring, I sat at the edge of another clearing, watching three male Indigo buntings make the rounds of their forested track, and photographed them as they paused in the dead tree in front of me to tilt their heads back and sing out their territorial warnings (read about it here.) What a magical morning.

This piece is done, as usual, with colored pencil and ink on Bristol board. 12 x 8. I'll have it up on my website soon: www.marierust.com

Sleeping Bear Revisited

2011-10-25T17:09:00.000-04:00

Once the mural at the Boardman River Nature Center was complete we had a bit of time to relax and enjoy northern Michigan. Lisa was coming up, as well as some of Lori's family, for a kayak trip on the Platte River, a place we had canoed back in July with Lisa's niece (the Boardman was a bit too challenging for some in the group). But after a week of pretty intense work, much of it sitting on the floor or in a chair or simply standing still, I needed to move my legs as well as get some alone time, so I opted for a hike in the park rather than sit in a boat for two or three hours.

I dropped the crew off at the boat launch and drove up to Otter/Bass/Deer Lake (a group of three lakes at the end of Trail's End Road). I walked a bit, I sat a bit, and enjoyed the beautiful late autumn day.

Deer Lake

White Oak

Beech leaf

Later, on the way to meet the gang at the end of their paddle, I came across two turkeys next to the road. I pulled over to get some photos. After watching me for a minute they returned to their foraging.

Once at the landing I had some time to kill so I walked down to where the Platte empties into Lake Michigan. The river cut into its bank, a sand berm pushed into the river's path by the storm we'd had earlier in the week.

And as always, the best view of all, the dunes of Sleeping Bear through a frame of oaks.

The Boardman River Mural is Finished!

2011-10-21T18:22:00.002-04:00

Whew! We did it! Around 11 am this morning the last bit of paint went up on the wall and we called it quits.

I could not get far enough back from the mural to get it all in one shot, so I did my best to shoot it in pieces and put them together in Photoshop. Thanks to the wide angle lens there's some distortion so some things don't line up quite right, but this is pretty good. (There is also a version of this that John at the Nature Center did on their website:
http://natureiscalling.org/river-wall-mural-at-the-boardman-river-nature-center/

The mural was designed to be educational and interactive. One side shows the pressures we put on river systems through things like urban run-off and poor agriculture and grazing practices. When we don't create a natural buffer between these areas and the river, pollutants run right into the water.

Also primarily on the left side we showed invasive species--in this area is purple loosestrife and phragmites. The blackbird is of course native.

But it was not all doom and gloom. Here a fly-fisher lands a catch.

Overhead an Osprey hovers, watching fish.

In the center of the mural there's a stand of trees on the far shore, with a Barred owl keeping watch. This encompasses part of the magnetic area, and there are lots of magnet critters for kids to play with. Not yet, though, as the paint needs to cure!

Below the owl is a cut-away of the river, and swimming below the surface are salmon, a grayling, leopard frog, some water insects as well as the invasive sea lamprey. There are more magnets for this area too.

On the right side we showed people using the river, with kayakers, campers, birdwatchers and hikers. In the distance are a home and city with natural buffers between them and the river.

And above it all soars the majestic Bald eagle.

All of the species were requested by the nature center staff. There are over 40 animals/insects, as well as native and invasive plant species. It was a challenge to get everything into the mural but we did it, and the folks at the nature center are thrilled. We hope this mural will get some good exposure and more jobs in the future!

Mural Work

2011-10-20T08:20:00.001-04:00

I know I said my next post would be the finish to my trip up north from a few weeks back, but I didn't get to it before I had to leave town again, this time to do a job up in Traverse City. The folks at the Boardman River Nature Center hired us to do an interactive mural there, and I wanted to post some works in progress pictures.

Lori and I started work around 9 am Monday morning. The mural is approximately 8 feet tall by 17 feet long. In the center area kids will be able to play with and place magnets of various critters, so the first step was to coat the wall with metallic paint, five coats of it to be exact. Once that dried we primed the entire surface.

Around noon Lori, the mastermind behind the whole project, began laying out the mural on the wall.

Once the placement of the main elements were in, we began blocking in color.

The goal by the end of day one was to get the wall covered in paint, and we did.

Mid-day on day two we had put some detail in, including a variety of invasive species on the left (the mural is meant in part to highlight invasive vs. native species), as well as some detail in the river bottom at the center of the mural.

End of day two saw more detail, including paddlers and kayakers on the river, the farm along the river bank, and more plants in the foreground.

Day three of course saw us working on more detail stuff. Birds and fishes and more plants went in, as well as fleshing out the forest background.

Blogger has a great new feature where if you click on an image it opens up a photo album with all the images from this post. Try it, and scroll through the photos to get a better look at the progress.

We are pooped, and sore, but hopefully we will be done today. I will post some close up photos once we're finished.

Last Leg of the Shingle Mill Pathway

2011-10-14T20:28:00.002-04:00

(Pigeon River Country posts continued)

Shortly after my rest stop at Ford Lake the trail met back up with the main loop and turned south, headed back to the trail head. I was tired, which I knew in part because every soft dry spot looked like a good place to take a nap. I wasn't carrying a lot of gear but I did have my camera backpack on, with all manner of things in it, just in case, such as rain ponchos, a knife, an emergency whistle and tush towelettes. My water bottle, which was clipped to the back with a carabiner, added to the weight. When I stopped to take pictures I had to wait for it to stop swinging back and forth before I could shoot. The backpack has a hip belt, but because the bag is so short it doesn't reach my hips, so much of the weight was on my shoulders, and I was starting to get a stiff neck and accompanying headache. I was glad at this point that I had opted for the shorter loop.

The last leg of a hike can be a slog to the finish. Something changes, psychologically, when you're near the end, especially when you're tired, and you just want to be done. I did my best to stay alert and keep looking around and be wowed by things, but it wasn't easy.

There hadn't been a lot of evidence of logging in this area although it had, like all of northern Michigan, been completely cut over in the 1880's. A few large, chest-high stumps remained here and there, testament to the slaughter of the white pines, but most of what I saw from the trail were more recently cut red pine, much smaller and closer to the ground.

I think it is interesting how we tend to believe that what we see is exactly how something has always been. People who hike this trail who don't know Michigan's logging history probably think they're looking at healthy, undisturbed habitat. But the reality is that this looks nothing like it did 150 years ago (or 15,000 years ago for that matter, during our last ice age). Not only did we vastly change this region with our hunger for lumber but it is still being logged today, evidenced by the enormous lumber trucks that sped past the campground every now and then, loaded with red pine trunks. I tried not to think about that, because part of me really wanted to feel like I was in un-managed and un-trammeled wilderness.

Shortly after passing under some power lines (which totally destroyed my wilderness fantasy) I noticed a change in the light, the color of the trees, the air temperature. I stopped and looked around, and realized I had just entered a part of the forest dominated by balsam fir. What a joy! Nothing that I can think of makes me feel like I'm in the north woods more than the scent of balsam fir--there's just nothing like it. I was so happy for the change of scenery so close to the end of the hike, when I really needed a distraction from my aching shoulders and something new to be excited about.

The dampness of these woods and the deep greens of the trees filled my senses.

And if that weren't enough, past the fir forest the trail entered a cedar swamp! I had seen it on the map but had forgotten about it. Darker and damper still, the cedars felt close and welcoming, almost protective.

By now the rain that had threatened all day had begun to fall, and the already damp and slippery boardwalk became even more so. I was loathe to break out a rain poncho so close to camp so I tucked my camera under my fleece and kept going.

I stopped for a few more photos as the trail moved out of the cedar swamp and into more open woodlands. This slime mold caught my eye, a blaze of orange on a rotting log.

High bush cranberry also lent a splash of color.

Rain now began to fall harder, and I put my head down and pushed through a meadow, soaking my pants. Not 100 feet from the road I scared off another deer. All this land and I saw the most wildlife within 1/4 mile of the campground.

Once on the road I had to cross back over the Pigeon River to reach the campground. I was hot and sweaty for the first time that day, trying to hustle back to miss the rain. As I crossed the bridge I saw this katydid on top of the reflector on the guard rail. A passing car slowed down to see what I was taking pictures of--I doubt they could even see the insect, all of two inches long. Probably thought I was nuts.

Back at the RV I got out of my wet clothes and into dry ones, ate some leftover spaghetti and took a nap. The rain had stopped so to keep my muscles loose I walked along the river, then sat for a bit and read. The heavier rain waited until after dark to really come down and I was glad I hadn't bothered with a campfire. It rained all night and into the next morning. I decided, with heavy heart, to leave the Pigeon River Country and head east to Lake Huron. I didn't know how long it was going to rain but the clouds were low and did not look like they were going to break up any time soon. Rather than sit in the RV and wait for the rain to end I decided to spend that time on the road. I cannot wait to go back, though, and explore more of this beautiful country.

Next: Negwegon and Tawas State Parks

Shingle Mill Pt. 2

2011-10-13T10:57:00.000-04:00

Continuation of the Pigeon River posts.

By the time I reached the Forest Area Headquarters (see map, arrow at bottom right) the fog had lifted. The building was closed but I stopped and had a snack and looked at my map. I needed to pee but decided I could wait until I got to the Pigeon River campground.

Just past the headquarters the trail meets back up with the river. Much of this stretch is up on a high bluff, with nice views of the water below.

The I came upon this curiosity, a marker for someone named P. S. Lovejoy. I looked him up when I got home.

Turns out he was a conservationist, born in Illinois, who studied at U of M in Ann Arbor as one of its first forestry program students. He worked for the Forest Service at Medicine Bow and Olympic National Forests before returning to U of M as an associate professor in the forestry department. He was also the head of Michigan's Conservation Department and was instrumental in establishing our refuge system. Aldo Leopold wrote his obituary, published in The Journal of Wildlife Management in 1942. Lovejoy was apparently very fond of the Pigeon River area, a place he called "the Big Wild."

When I finally reached the campground I was pleased to find new toilet facilities with not one but four air fresheners perched along the handicap railing. The campground was much more secluded than the Pigeon Bridge campground, where I was camping, and the sites themselves were bigger and much more private. There were only two campers there and not a soul in site.

The campground road crossed over the river here and deposited me on its western bank. I sat for a while and wrote in my journal, ate some lunch, and kept a close eye on the sky and its lowering clouds.

Past the campground the trail stays with the river for a little while, then starts climbing upwards again. It was here I came to the fork in the road, and I paused to consider one last time which trail to take. I felt good, having hiked not quite three miles, but knew that another seven would do me in. It takes me a long time to get anywhere as I stop frequently to look at stuff, so a three mile hike often takes me 2 1/2 to three hours. While I don't cover a lot of ground I am on my feet pretty much the whole time, so I get more tired walking three miles than folks who just push through it do. I turned left and headed for number 12. (See arrow at left on map above.)

I had seen very few signs of animals on this trail, even though there's probably more wildlife here than just about anywhere else in the state. I had seen four deer early in the hike, not a 1/4 mile from the trail head. Some coyote tracks, deer tracks, and various birds were the only other things that I had seen.

But as I made my way to marker 12, I came across some scrapings on the trail. I tried to distinguish foot prints in them but could not.

I looked around and found this rotted log torn apart.

That's when I noticed the blueberries. I had not seen any along the trail up to now. Blueberries are, of course, one of the black bear's favorite foods. There were no berries this late in the year, but this told me I was certainly in bear country. The scrapings and shredded logs could have been done by a skunk or coon, but I liked the idea that it was a bear.

Thanks to the fact that I spent a lot of time scanning the woods around me, looking for critters who might like to make lunch out of me, I noticed water off the trail a few hundred feet on my right. I detoured to it and came to Ford Lake. I found a comfy place to sit and got out my gorp and journal.

While I sat munching and writing, a flock of 20 to 30 Yellow-rumped warblers appeared on my right, seemingly from out of nowhere. I watched, rapt, as the flock moved around and above me, peeping and gleaning insects from the trees. I slowly brought my binoculars up and watched an adult male nab an inch-long caterpillar and proceed to devour it. I one point I was literally surrounded by birds--above, behind and in front, to my right and left, even below me as I was sitting on the side of hill. At one point a bird sat perched on a branch not five feet away, at eye level. I have no way of knowing if they were aware of me, but the moment, which lasted maybe five minutes, left me breathless. As they moved off down the shoreline the forest returned to silence, and I sat, grinning like a fool.


My view of Ford Lake from my resting spot

Next: The final leg of the Shingle Mill Pathway.

Shingle Mill Pathway

2011-10-11T09:10:00.004-04:00

(Pigeon River Country continued)

The main reason I decided to visit the Pigeon River area was to hike the Shingle Mill Pathway. A loop trail, it has 5 loops from 3/4 of a mile to 11 miles. I had heard great things about the area and so had chosen to camp here for a day or two.

The trail head is at the back of the Pigeon Bridge campground, where I was parked. In my previous post, I talked about the 1 1/2 mile loop I had hiked that evening. This day I was planning on the six mile loop (see highlighted area in map below). My heart longed for the 10 mile loop, but my head told me that I had been sitting at art fairs most of the summer and that I was in no condition to be walking that far, especially by myself. So I decided I would do the inner loop next time and settled on the 6 mile jaunt.

When I woke up that morning I could see stars winking between the leaves. By the time I left the RV, at around 8:30 am, thick fog had rolled in.

It was utterly delightful. The fog gave a depth to the forest that you just don't see on a bright, sunny day.

Everywhere I looked was a breath-taking scene. Fog had begun to condense on the leaves and needles and drip gently to the forest floor. It was just about the only sound save for the occasional peep of a near-by bird. Not a breath of wind stirred needle or leaf.

This was the scene at the meadow where the day before I seen the little bluestem. This morning found it draped in a grey cloak.

But the color was there, some of it hard to miss. The leaves of this red maple were glazed and glowing.

From thick forests to meadows to glades edged with poplar, the scene seemed to change with every step.

As I came up a short rise I saw red pines towering over me. I stopped and looked up into the canopy, and found if I squinted my eyes just right I could imagine I was in a redwood forest somewhere on the Pacific Coast.

But I was happy to be in this most beautiful state of Michigan.

Next: 2nd leg of the hike

Pigeon River Getaway

2011-10-03T09:57:00.000-04:00

I love autumn. Each summer I wait patiently for the air to cool, the sky turn deep blue, the grasses to turn to gold, and the trees to blaze. This is when I long for the woods, when the air is dry, the ground warm and the bugs long gone. Being an artist who does shows all summer, fall is the time when I get to take a break, a much needed break.

I was not certain until the day before I left where I was going to go. I had looked at the Pigeon River area for several years but never gone there. I decided it was finally time.

Pigeon River Country may be one of the most "remote" areas of northern lower Michigan. Northeast of Gaylord by some 20 miles, it is home to the High Country Pathway, a 70 mile loop trail, and the Shingle Mill Pathway, a multi-loop trail. As you'll see from the map below there are many "roads" that cris-cross the area but they are mostly two-tracks, probably old logging roads, and don't host any real traffic.

This is state forest land and there is still some logging, but out on trail you wouldn't know it. The area was logged extensively in the late 1800's but there are now areas of the forest where one can find 100 year old white pines. There are also cedar swamps and a variety of woodland habitat such as upland pine, hardwoods and fir. The area is also populated by white-tailed deer, elk, black bear, cougar (probably) and wolves (maybe--wolves were recently confirmed in the northern lower peninsula this spring, and this seems like a logical place for them to be).

I camped at the Pigeon Bridge campground. This campground is the official trail head for both the Shingle Mill and High Country Pathways. Knowing I would arrive late afternoon on Tuesday, I had decided to camp there instead of the more remote Pigeon River campground so that I could hike the short 1 1/4 mile loop in the evening.

Shingle Mill Pathway--arrows indicate campground and trail.

It was a spectacular afternoon, cool and clear. The drive up had been amazing--I don't think there's a prettier drive anywhere than U.S. 127/I-75 north of Claire in late September. Much of the route is divided highway and so you are treated to blazing colors on both sides of the road. Where the median wasn't forested it was full of golden rod and New England asters, and the golds mixed with deep purple just took my breath away. I wanted to stop along the highway and take pictures, but I didn't think that was a good idea with the RV.

I was a bit surprised then to get to the Pigeon River and find very little color at all, at least where I was. The area hosts a lot of pine, white and red, and very little hardwoods. None the less, the hike was gorgeous.

The trail passed through open woods carpeted with bracken fern. The air had a spicy scent from the drying ferns.

Within a half mile the landscape opened up into a meadow, turned silver by acres of little bluestem going to seed.

The bracken fern here were in the midst of their color change.

Ah a red maple! What a joy, that riotous color!

The loop back toward the campground hugged the eastern shore of the Pigeon River. Chickadees and Yellow-rumped warblers plied the shrubby vegetation gleaning bugs.

So here's a quiz: What do you get when you take a river and add a stand of poplar?

That's right, you get BEAVERS! Now I did not see any beavers, but by golly there was lots of beaver activity, and much of it clearly recent. The wood of this "beaver pencil" was still wet.

There were well defined paths from the trees to the water where these heavy-bodied rodents (they can weight upwards of 60 pounds) dragged their poplar dinner to their lodge.

While it seems like beavers do a lot of damage, they in fact keep meadows open by removing invading trees. Poplars are aggressive growers, and since we work so hard to suppress fires these days, beavers are the only things that will keep these meadows open. These beavers were clearly quite busy!

Can you find all the beaver pencils?

There was no cell signal out there, and it had not occurred to me to call the girls when I got off the highway, so after my hike I drove back to Vanderbuilt to let them know I'd arrived. I did not bother with a fire that night--I feel that they are generally more work than they're worth--and instead read a few chapters, played Angry Birds on my phone, and turned in around 10pm. The following day I was planning to hike one of the longer loops and wanted to get an early start.

Next: The Shingle Mill Pathway

And So I Go....

2011-09-26T18:05:00.002-04:00

"I have had my share of solitude.... It is beautiful to me, for it brings perspective and the sense of timelessness. I come back to the friends I have left, stronger, better, and happier than when I went away."

Sigurd Olson
Reflections from the North County

Wet Meadow in Autumn

2011-09-24T12:35:00.000-04:00

I have to make a confession. The photos you'll see in this blog were taken over a year ago. That's right, I shot these when Lori and our friend Karin and I went for a walk on September 14, 2010. I don't know why I never got around to posting them. I may have been in the middle of something else, writing about our Ontario trip perhaps, but whatever the case enough time went by that I came to feel like they were no longer timely. I have waited for the season to come around again so I could post them.

I never tire of nature. There are always, ALWAYS, new things to learn, places to discover. Even people who have studied biology in school don't know everything. I remember being out on one of the DNR's invasive plant removal workdays a few years ago. Our team leader, being a botanist, was not very familiar with birds, and she asked me what kind of bird was making the raspy noise we could hear off in the woods. I stopped and looked at her and said, "Uh, that's a tree frog." So all of us have lots of room to learn from our explorations.

I had never heard of fringed gentian until we camped a few tears ago at Hog Island, up on the southern shore of Michigan's U.P., next to a wet meadow that was filled with the stuff. I was blown away by this gorgeous little flower, even though we had to leave before the sun warmed the meadow enough to open them fully. I was further unaware that we had it growing right here, practically in our back yard, until Karin found it while out for a walk.

A lovely little plant with squarish buds, it opens up in a whorl, almost like an upside down umbrella.

I crawled around in the mud for some time, studying and photographing it.

There were other plants in the meadow as well, such as boneset,

greater coreopsis,

and grass of Parnasis.

But I kept getting drawn back to the gentian.

I must further confess that I have not returned to this place since last September. I regret this, and the fact that I have gotten out very little at all this year. Feeling a bit peckish, I am taking the RV out next week and going...somewhere. North. Not sure where yet, not sure I am feeling like going at all, but I know I need it. I have to get out of The Compound (our home, so named because we rarely leave it) and stretch my legs. I have not felt like writing, or hiking, or even reading the blogs that I follow. I know that I need some space and some time to air out my brain and get excited about the world again.

So look for some new stuff beginning in October.

Happy Autumn!

Holly Wild: Bamboozled on Beaver Island

2011-09-20T11:03:00.001-04:00

I've got to give a quick shout out to my partner Lori Taylor for the publication of her new book Holly Wild: Bamboozled on Beaver Island. This is a very funny story about three kids and their adventures on Beaver Island. Lori wrote and illustrated the book, and Lisa and I edited and offered constructive criticism. We even created a subsidiary to Bear Track Studios to publish this and the rest of the Holly Wild series called Bear Track Press. Who knows, maybe I'll put a book together some day!

Aimed at getting kids of all ages outdoors and into explorer mode, the book is available at www.beartrackstudiosllc.com/bear_track_press. We will be offering school presentations as well as promoting the book at Michigan festivals and getting it into local bookstores.

Go on, now, get out there and poke it with a stick!

Snake vs. Toad

2011-09-14T09:28:00.001-04:00

I will warn you right now--if you are at all squeamish, DON'T LOOK!

I was working on updating the Bear Track website yesterday afternoon when I heard Lori hollering from the back deck. Something about a snake and "HURRY!!", so I grabbed my camera and ran down the stairs. I found Lori and Lisa peering into the tiger lily leaves. There, head just visible in a gap in the foliage, was a mid-sized garter snake trying to choke down a rather large American toad.

It was clear that the toad was a goner, but we were not convinced at first that the snake was going to manage to swallow the toad. The toad had filled itself with air and looked impossibly big.

The snake managed just fine.

Lori has a snake, an orange "candy corn" corn snake, and I've watched it eat its mice. This was different somehow. For one, the toad had been a living, breathing creature not moments before this. Kenny's mice come frozen in a box from the pet store.

This was probably the same toad I'd come across on several occasions hopping around on the deck and had moved it out of harm's way--and the reach of a chicken--more than once, so I had the thinnest veil of a personal relationship with it. I like toads--they eat lots of bugs. Not that I don't like snakes, but I, like so many other people, have a tendency to identify with the victim, rather than the aggressor. I don't claim to understand this as we are clearly a predator species, but it may have to do with an overactive imagination that puts us in the mouth of that snake, being eaten whole and, at least for a time, alive.

Anyway, with some work, the snake got the toad's front legs in its mouth, and eventually the toad deflated, making the second half of it go down a bit quicker.

As the snake retreated into the leaves, only the toad's toes remained. The entire process took maybe ten minutes.

Yeesh.

Of Bears and Froot Loops

2011-09-06T07:42:00.003-04:00

The bears up at Oswald's ranch are, for all intents and purposes, wild animals. They do not breed bears at Oswald's but take in orphans and raise them from cubs. Therefore, they are quite used to humans and human contact. I must say, however, that I was quite surprised to see one of the ranch's employees in the enclosure with the five young bears. He was feeding them Froot Loops, and had one of the bears sitting in a plastic lawn chair, contentedly licking cereal off its belly.

More, please!

Some of the others tried to sneak in and lick up a few morsels.

What a sweet face.

This fellow was named Chewbaka because he roared like the Star Wars character--especially when he was trying to win a sucker.

Directly behind this enclosure was the cub pen. They were difficult to photograph thanks again to the chain link fence and the fact that the pen is covered, making it pretty dark.

The same fellow who had been feeding cereal to the adolescents was now in with the cubs. He shoved maple tree branches through the wire, which the cubs had to climb to get at. They then proceeded to play with and munch on the leaves. So many people think bears are man-eating monsters, but in fact black bears are primarily vegetarians.

We couldn't pass up the chance to go in the pen with one of the cubs, so we paid our $5 to have our picture taken with one. Lisa and Lori got to feed him while I petted his head. Awww....

I want one!

Oswald's Bears

2011-08-29T10:04:00.006-04:00

As I mentioned in my last post, the whole point of going to the U.P. a few weeks back was to visit Oswald's Bear Ranch and hopefully get inspired. While we would have loved to spend another day lounging by the lake we dutifully packed our gear and left Pretty Lake.

We got to Oswald's later than I would have liked as it took us longer to pack up than I expected, so it was already on the warm side when we arrived. But the bears weren't hiding in the shade--probably lured by folks tossing apple slices over the fence.

Ah yes, the fence. A necessary evil when you need to contain 26 bears. It does, however, make it pretty darned difficult to get decent photos. Well, I shot away anyhow, looking mostly for poses and composition. This bear nibbled on some weeds as we passed.

Lisa and Lori forged ahead while I straggled, taking pics. Lori left her camera in the back seat of her daughter's car the week before so had to resort to sketching.

I did my best to get some close ups for detail. Such expressive eyes!

We worked our way around the park. As we neared the gift shop Lori, who had moved on ahead, yelled to us that they had one of the cages open. Wha...? I scurried over.

Sweet!

Nothing but a few strands of electric fence between us and these pre-pubescent males. I don't know off-hand how many bears were in there but it was at least five.

They did all sorts of cute stuff, which isn't hard for bears. They're pretty darned cute doing nothing at all.

This made me a bit uneasy, kind of a "Planet of the Bears" moment. They look so natural standing like this. We should be thankful they don't have thumbs....

What did I say about cute?

Camping at Pretty Lake

2011-08-24T10:18:00.008-04:00

August began with me feeling over-worked and stung out. After seven shows in eight weeks I needed a vacation. I was also in need of some new subject matter--I had in mind to do a black bear, but I didn't have many black bear images to work from. So we decided to take a quick trip up to the U.P. and visit Oswald's Bear Ranch.

Oswald's opened when the dumps shut down. Back in the day, folks who wanted to see bears would drive up to the U.P. and park at a town dump. There would invariably be bears, often sows with cubs, digging up the trash. This was not good for the bears, and ultimately not good for folks who lived up there who had to deal with bears that had become used to an easy meal out of a trash can.

So I got online and found a State Forest Campground about 15 minutes north of Oswald's called Pretty Lake. What sold me was mention of portages to other surrounding lakes. We would have an extra day to relax so I wanted a place with good paddling. I assumed since it was a rustic campground and we were going up midweek that we would have our pick of spots. Boy was I wrong! We were lucky to find one with direct access to the water where we could leave our kayaks! However, the area and scenery didn't disappoint.

We got camp set up and had a quick dinner, with just enough time for some exploring before dark. The girls took out their 'yaks while I walked the perimeter. The sun was setting and the moon was rising as a pair of loons, with two good sized chicks, yodeled across the lake. It was a perfect up north moment.

The following morning we packed lunches, fishing and camera gear and headed across Pretty Lake for the first portage.

Map of the four lake portage

The first portage took us to Brush Lake, a small, deep body of water. The portage was short, only 100 feet or so. We paddled to the next portage, also short, which took us to Camp 8 Lake. Around a good portion of Camp 8 Lake were rustic campsites, accessible only by foot or boat. What is nice about these is they are rustic, not back country--there are vault toilets, hand pumps for water, picnic tables and fire rings. We could see another trip in our future!

Brush Lake

Lori

Lisa

White pond lily

We paddled around Camp 8 Lake for a while, then decided to portage over to Beaver House Lake. This was a longer portage so we left the kayaks on the shore of Camp 8 while we explored the area. There were more campsites out here, which really felt like the middle of nowhere. The trail that cut through the area was wide and well-kept, and then I saw a blaze for the North Country Pathway. That explained it! This is a 4,600 mile trail that passes through seven states, from North Dakota to New York.

I fell in love with this spot instantly. There was not a soul, not a sound, nothing but the wind and the twittering birds. We collapsed on a picnic table and ate lunch in paradise.

We dragged our kayaks over to Beaver House Lake and the girls went fishing while I stayed behind and wrote and relaxed, and took pictures of red skimmers cavorting in the sweet gale.

Oh, pardon me!

When they got back we went blueberry picking. Never have I seen so many wild blueberries in one place. We barely made a dent.

By 4:30 we were getting hungry again, and a bit tired. Knowing we had several lakes and portages to tackle to get back to camp we reluctantly left. When we got back to Pretty Lake, the loon family was right there by the portage, having their own supper.

It was an absolutely perfect up north day.

Say Hello to Oscar

2011-08-18T11:14:00.004-04:00

This past Monday, August 15, we were sitting down to a late dinner when I heard a plaintive mew through the dining room window. I paused, my fork hovering. The girls stopped to listen, too. I wasn't sure what I'd heard until it was repeated.

"Mew?" came the high-pitched cry of a kitten. Lori leaned toward the window and watched as a small grey and white kitten scuttled across the back deck. I got up and went to investigate.

The kitten sat on the far corner of the deck, clearly in need but also clearly afraid. I went back in and got some of Louie's food and put it in a dish. I set the dish on the deck then went back inside to watch. Within moments he emerged and ate hungrily. To our surprise, when he finished, he climbed up on the table that's under the window were we keep potted herbs in summer, and proceeded to try to leap in the window.

Cutting my dinner short, I got more food and a pair of leather gloves and was able to get him to come close enough to snatch him up. I took him out to my studio, to keep him away from our other cat, and Lisa brought out a litter box and water bowl. We fed him a few more times, small amounts, and contemplated whether or not we would keep him. Having just had a cat euthanized a month or so ago, we had a vacancy--we have a two-cat limit at our house. We decided that if he came around we would keep him.

The following morning I went out with my camera to get some pictures.

He was clearly a bit on the feral side. I worked for years at an animal shelter and we got our fair share of feral cats, and they just have a look about them. They watch with their eyes rather than turning their heads, and their faces seem pinched up, wary, pupils dilated.

But now, just 48 hours after his first photos, he is a different cat.

Once before I took in a rather untamed kitten. I kept him quarantined from the others in a room in the basement. It was not too terribly long before boredom and loneliness got the best of him, and his attitude towards me did a 180. So, learning from that lesson, we fed this kitten only when we went to see him, rather than leaving food out, so he had to come out when we were in the room. We put the bowl close to us so that we could pet him while he ate. We visited often, and tried not to spook him, let him come to us.

It seems to be working.

Now that he has a full belly and is more comfortable around us, he is much more openly active, doesn't hide behind the bookshelf as much. Here he's standing on my drawing table, watching the birds outside the studio.

So then we had to come up with a name. We considered Basil, since he had been climbing around in the potted herbs. But Basil seemed too...soft. So we threw around some others, but nothing seemed to be sticking. Then we decided it needed to be an "O" name because he has a circle on the top of his head, right between his ears.

Finally, Lori came up with Oscar. Oscar Wild, since he came to us a bit of a wildcat.

So far he does all the things kittens should do. He plays,

and he plays some more (getting ready to pounce on a toy).

But mostly he's just really damn cute.

We are glad that Oscar picked us.

Platte River Paddle (part two)

2011-08-06T15:47:00.007-04:00

Taking photographs from a canoe or kayak is a challenge. The wind or the current is constantly working against you, pulling you away or pushing you too close to your subject. Even with a companion to assist, they don't always know what you're looking at, so as soon as you put down your paddle to grab your camera, away you go. But who can resist a "flock" of darning needles, brilliant in their blue and black against the green of water plants just below the surface?

We were braced against a downed tree to get these two.

This root ball, probably of a white cedar, looks like skeletal, cloaked Death reaching out towards the river for every paddler who floats by.

As we left Death behind we entered a marshier area, and Blue Herons started turning up.

Easily spooked, they don't allow one to get too close. This one flew off down river,

only to be spotted again in the shallows.

I was so busy watching the heron fly away for the second time that I nearly missed the cardinal flowers, blooming on a tiny island. I made Lisa help me turn us around so I could go back and get a closer look.

Simply astonishing color!

Past the marshes we entered a stretch of a few hundred yards of sandy dune environment. We knew the Big Lake was very near now.

And sure enough, around a few more bends and we emerged on the shore of Lake Michigan, just as the sun was beginning to set.

And the best part of all? The Sleeping Bear, hazy in the distance, ever watching for her lost cubs.

Don't know the legend of the Sleeping Bear? It is a Native American story, probably Anishinabee, and it goes like this:

"This legend relates that there was once a terrible forest fire on the Wisconsin side of Lake Michigan, which drove all the animals into the water. Among them were a mother bear and her two cubs who, to escape the flames, struck out for the Michigan shore. They swam for several days, but the cubs became confused in the smoke and before reaching the land their strength gave out. The mother bear, on landing, paced the shore for days, calling in vain for her children, until at length she too became exhausted and fell asleep. Sand swept over her and there she still lies, looking out upon the lake, and to reward her devotion the Great Spirit created North and South Manitou Islands where the cubs sank from sight. Here they remain to this day."

From www.great-lakes.net

And here is an areal photo of the dune, with the Manitou Islands in the distance. I believe the mother bear is the dark lump on the top edge of the dune, but I have always seen the whole dune as the mother bear.

Photographer unknown.

Platte River Paddle (part one)

2011-08-02T17:00:00.008-04:00

This past week found me up in Northern Michigan, having booked two shows four days apart in the northwest part of the state. This was a first for me, doing at show then not returning home before the next. I had no idea how much stuff I would need so I really busted my tail getting stock ready for the trip.

The first show, on a Wednesday, was in Frankfort. Situated where the Betsie River meets Lake Michigan and just south of Sleeping Bear Dunes Nat'l Lakeshore, it is a busy little town during the tourist season. The second show wasn't until Saturday, an art fair in Traverse City that all three of us were doing. Set up for T.C. was Friday afternoon, so that left us all day Thursday to have a little fun. And what do three nature/wildlife artists do for fun? They go canoeing, of course!

The Platte River is a popular canoeing river. The Upper Platte is twisty, swift and a bit narrow, suited for paddlers with some river experience. The Lower Platte is wider and slower, and requires little more than steering to get through it. Since we had Lisa's niece along for the trip we picked the Lower Platte.

I am glad for the choice, because it allowed us to look around and enjoy the scenery. We didn't have to pay too much attention to the river so we could pay attention to what was going on along its banks.

Our first sighting was this Green Heron. Unfortunately it was strongly back lit and I did not adjust the exposure. However, it is my first photo of this bird so I am happy just to record it.

Belted Kingfishers abounded along the Platte. Where the river broadens out into a lake, Lisa and I had a kingfisher dive and catch a fish 30 feet in front of us. We drifted as we watched her subdue the fish, slamming it repeatedly on the branch upon which she perched. She gulped it down before we could get within good shooting range. I was happy though that she sat for a spell on the branch as we floated ever closer.

We were thrilled to get so close. They are typically nervous and shy.

A female Belted Kingfisher is more colorful than the male, who lacks the rusty band on the chest and sides. I marvel at the white spots in front of her eyes. What are their purpose? Such a striking lady she is.

We had to hustle to catch up to Alaina and Lori but got held up by a passing muskrat.

They had stopped upriver to watch some immature Wood Ducks that Alaina had spotted along the riverbank.

There were other sights along the river that didn't involve fur or feathers. The tangled branches of a long dead tree reflected off the smooth surface of this gentle river.

And along the shore, Joe Pye weed, of the milkweed family, bloomed vibrantly. (Thank you, Joni James, for correcting me--this is not Joe Pye, nor is Joe Pye in the milkweed family. My bad, I never looked it up. This is actually swamp milkweed, which is why it looks like a milkweed! Joe Pye is apparently in the sunflower family. I stand corrected.)

To all of my "alternative" readers.... Happy Lammas. Let us celebrate the first harvests and the midway point between the Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox.

Next: Platte River part 2

The Red Fox

2011-07-25T06:33:00.007-04:00

The fox stood stock still in the middle of the lane. We watched each other silently for 10 or 15 seconds, then the fox turned to go. But she paused, then sat down and looked back at me. She seemed unsure how to proceed, and kept looking up the secondary driveway we use for moving trailers and the RV. There's a large woodpile there, an old barn the previous owners had dismantled elsewhere and brought here, planning to reconstruct. But the project was never finished, and we now have habitat for all sorts of critters--rabbits and woodchucks, chipmunks, feral cats, and now, perhaps, red fox. Had she moved her kits there, I wondered?

.....

We learned about the fox from our neighbor, the fellow who lives over the hill behind us whose dog killed two of our chickens earlier in the year. When the third chicken turned up missing, we of course blamed his dog. But he swore his dog was with him all day that day. After we investigated further, we found a trail of feathers leading into the brush and away from his house, all the way down to the front of our property. He said his kids, who play in the abandoned gravel pit behind his house, had seen a fox and her kits at a den there at the top of a hill, and that he had seen a coyote only a week before on his property.

Several days after loosing a second chicken to the mystery animal, (we were still not sure if fox or coyote), and after we had sadly concluded that the hens just couldn't go out any more, I was working in my studio. I just happened to be gazing out the window when movement caught my eye. There, scrawny and lanky in her summer coat, trotted the fox, right down the trail at 12:30 in the afternoon. She moved from west to east, away from the chicken coops. Well, that explains it, I thought. And how bold, to be out at mid-day! Clearly no time was safe for the chickens.

This morning, after feeding the dog and letting the chickens out into their pens, I was sitting at the kitchen table when I heard a hoarse barking. I knew that sound--we'd heard it a week or two before, and Lori determined it was a red fox's territorial call. I went out the backdoor and quietly walked up the hill towards the chickens. I stood for a moment in the quiet morning when I heard the bark again. It was behind me, down front, so I walked down the hill and out to the lane, where I found her standing in the road, back-lit in the pre-dawn light.

.....

You killed my chickens, I thought as she finally stood up and hurried down the lane, turning north and up the trail that divides our property and that of our other neighbor. But I could not be angry. She was only doing what she needed to feed her family. Our folly, believing the our birds would be safe roaming free, was really what caused the problem. I hold no grudge--how could I, against a creature as clever and elegant as she?

I am grateful for her sharing a moment with me on this hazy summer morning.

Photo by Adele Brand

Whew!

2011-07-18T21:30:00.002-04:00

I have to apologize for my complete lack of posts these past few weeks. I recently finished a run of four art fairs four weekends in a row and I think I was worn out.

It's been a bit of a rough spring around here. We've lost six chickens since April--two to the neighbor's dog, two to a fox, and two had to be euthanized. The four chicks that we picked up in May from a "farm" in Milford turned out to have a respiratory ailment, and we've had them on antibiotics twice--the second time being a form that required injections. You can imagine how much fun that's been. Now the two remaining older chickens--Rhodie, our rooster, and Ethel, our little Americana from last year's group--have got it too. We had to euthanize one of our cats a few weeks ago, a 16 year old tabby that Lisa got as a kitten. A woodchuck has burrowed under my studio, the foundation of which is concrete blocks, and I am worried about possible damage and conflicted as to how to handle removing it. Plus I caught it in the veggie garden the other day. On top of it all our dog Jackson got sprayed by a skunk last week. So you can see, between all of this and trying to run a business, there's not been much time--or energy--for blogging.

On a positive note Lori and I have been hired to do a mural at the Boardman River Nature Center in Traverse City that we're very excited about. Also, I participated in Krasl on the Bluff, one of Michigan's premier art fairs last weekend, a show I'd been trying to get into for several years, and it went very well.

So I am looking forward to getting back to writing, an endeavor that is difficult at best when ones' energy is consumed by life's little battles, especially when they seem to come back to back to back.

Bears Out There

2011-06-27T16:50:00.007-04:00

Folks in my neck of the woods are all a-twitter these days. Seems that there has been a confirmed sighting of a black bear just seven or eight miles south of us. Some hikers at the metro park saw a bear one morning. Later in the day a couple near the park saw a bear in their back yard and called 911. Several days later some folks actually got photos of the bear, presumably a cub, something the "officials" just can't refute.

I feel vindicated by this information. Why? Well, five years ago, in October 2006, I was hiking in the Brighton Recreation Area, a 4,900 acre park that has 13 lakes and miles of hiking, biking and equestrian trails. This land, while not actually connected, is very near the 11,000 acre Pinckney Rec Area, which is connected by a trail to the 21,000 acre Waterloo Rec Area.

I was on a section of trail in the Brighton Rec Area that is for hiking only when I came across this in the middle of the path:

Now that's a big pile of poo. While I was merely a budding artist/naturalist at the time (still am, really) I knew that this was not made by a dog. Not only was it huge (my lens cap is two inches across) it was full of undigested apple peels. There are no horses allowed on this trail (and indeed no hoof prints) and canines are mainly carnivores. This was made by a large animal that is primarily vegetarian.

About a hundred feet farther down the trail I saw this:

The first thing I did was look around, because I was now even more certain that a bear had passed through there. I took several shots of the tracks, then backtracked to look for others, but I could not find any that were more defined, although I did find more tracks.

I showed these photos to several people, one of whom is a biologist. None of them thought it was a bear. The biologist, when she saw them, studied them for quite some time then asked if a bear had ever been seen in the area. I said not to my knowledge, so she said then it probably wasn't a bear. !?!?!

There are certainly a lot of dogs on the trail, and there are coyote too. But the size of this track, along with the configuration of the toes, all pointed to a black bear.

Let's take a look at some other tracks.

The year before Lisa and I had been up in the northern Lower Peninsula, in the Clear Lake State Park area, looking for elk. Driving the back roads after a rain I spotted tracks in the soft mud along the edge. I hopped out and took some pictures of these gorgeous black bear prints. If I'd had plaster I would have cast them.

Note how the toes of the front foot, which is in the top left corner, are all above the pad. Bears have five toes on the front and the back but you can only see four--the rear foot overlaps the front slightly, obscuring the fifth toe of the front foot.

Here is an illustration of a black bear's front paw:

Here is a canine print, this one of a wolf that we saw up in Ontario last year:

Here is an illustration of a wolf track:

All canines have a similar look. The configuration of the foot is totally different from that of a bear. The middle two toes are way out front, giving the track a more circular appearance.

Now look again at the track from Brighton, where I've highlighted the shape.

Unfortunately when I took this shot I did not know, and did not notice, that the rear paw overlaps the front, but luckily I got it in the shot by accident. There's no doubt in my mind that this is not a canine track. Not even a St. Bernard would make a track like that.

So after drawing on this image I got an idea to overlay the Brighton track on top of the Clear Lake track. Holy Cow!

So there is little doubt in my mind that what I photographed in the Brighton Rec Area five years ago were bear tracks and scat. The confirmed sighting only validates it for me. Reports state that it was a cub. If there's a cub, then there's a sow. And if there is a sow making cubs, she can't do it without a boar, so I guess there are at least three bears out there.

None of this surprises me. For as built up as it is in southeast Michigan we do have a lot of undeveloped state land. Add to that the MetroParks system and all of the ranches, crop land and marshes we have here, I am surprised we have not had a confirmed sighting earlier. A bear--or many bears--could live here quite comfortably and never be seen if they were careful.

Let's hope that people here in southern Michigan will not overreact and panic. Let's hope that folks here will welcome the return of the black bear, a big furry omnivore who is not a threat to us as long as we act with common sense and educate ourselves about bears. I for one am thrilled. I only wish I'd seen the creature who made this track five years ago.

Perhaps I will yet.

A New Resident

2011-06-23T07:52:00.006-04:00

It appears we have a new resident at our place.

The white-tail doe was back again yesterday, slurping up mulberries. Good for her, I hate to see them go to waste.

She is not wholly comfortable. The kitchen window was open and certain sounds made her jumpy. Here Lisa was spraying a pan with cooking spray--heaven knows what she thought the sound was but she didn't like it. The doe wandered off towards the garden but came right back when she decided there was no threat.

Such a pretty, innocent-looking face.

Hey! Don't eat the tree, for cryin' out loud!!

She also noshed on my petunias and munched a bunch of leaves off the black-eyed Susans. Time to get the soap and mesh bags, I guess.

The chickens were out for their evening free-range time, and Sister Joan wandered up to the doe, eating mulberries (which by the way seem to give chickens very loose stools). The two animals eyed each other but apparently decided neither was a threat. Ah, peace and harmony in the back yard.

Louis watched the big brown dog with the pointy ears for a while too.

White-tail

2011-06-21T08:26:00.004-04:00

We had a visitor to the mulberry tree this morning.

A lovely white-tail doe was picking the berries out of the grass, not 30 feet from the house.

I took a few shots through the closed window and screen, then tried to quietly open both. She was having none of it, and walked calmly from the back yard.

This may be the same doe that Lisa and I saw last week out on the trail. She stood her ground on the side of the hill, stamping her foot and snorting at us. Then she walked down the hill, across the lane and into the brush. We looked but did not see a fawn.

I wish she would eat all of that invasive crown vetch but no, she prefers the native plants too--like the purple coneflower out of my garden and the wood anemone along the trail. She sure is pretty, though.

Lori and I are heading up to Traverse City today to meet with folks at the Boardman River Nature Center to talk murals. We are excited about working with them and for the opportunity to put our artwork in their facility. Hoping to get a bit of hiking and bike riding in while we're up there.

Have a wonderful Summer Solstice!

2011-06-20T07:36:00.003-04:00

The mulberries are ripe.

The tree in the back yard hangs heavy with the fruits. Our wet and cool spring has made for a lot of happy trees, and they all seem to be producing prodigious blooms this year--cherry, crabapple, serviceberry. This red mulberry should be full of birds.

But the birds have been unusually quiet this year, and already the berries are littering the ground. I've seen a handful of robins and a small group of Cedar Waxwings the other day, but other than that there's been little activity.

It has seemed to me all spring that there are fewer birds this year than in the past. The mornings are strangely quiet. We did finally have our House Wren show up, and I thought he and his lady were going to nest in the house on my studio, but I am not sure that they have indeed nested.

We do seem to have a plethora of Common Grackles this year. Their numbers have increased over the past few years, perhaps due to the fact that I put seed out. Now that the mulberry is in full fruit I will cut back on what I put out and make the birds go eat some free food.

This grackle, down in the lane in front of the house, was being harassed by three young ones, who chased it around in circles.

Bring them up here to the mulberry tree, Dad!

Last night as I was coming out of my studio I noticed an odd shape on the wall hanging by the door. I stopped to get a better look. There, perched on the lip of the sun, was a tree frog. I ran to the house for my camera.

Frog got your tongue?

Artwork--"Kiss the Sky"

2011-06-16T19:17:00.004-04:00

It was not my intention to get this piece done this week but it has been quiet around here for once and I found myself out in the studio more than usual. I realized yesterday that I was going to be able to finish it, and I'm happy that I'll have it for my show this weekend in East Grand Rapids.

"Kiss the Sky", approx. 16" x 6", framed to 20" x 10"

"Kiss the Sky" is a portrait of a Peregrine Falcon. This particular bird is a member of a falconry club (I am sorry but I don't remember their name) who usually have birds at CraneFest in October. I was really taken with this bird, and was thrilled when he dropped his wings down, almost as if mantling. From this angle I imagine him flying, hence the title.

When I was in the Porcupine Mountains in the U.P. of Michigan in 2008 I watched a Peregrine chase a small bird in off the water. I was sitting on a rock on the shore just after sunrise, eating a bowl of oatmeal, when I saw these two specs coming toward me. When I realized what I was watching my jaw dropped, my spoon suspended half way to my mouth.

This exhausted song bird (I never did see what species) was fluttering towards shore like a wounded bat, and the falcon was just behind it. The falcon rose up above its prey 15 or 20 feet, then swooped down at it. The little bird jigged just in the nick of time. This was repeated two more times as the birds neared shore, the whole thing seeming to play out in slow motion. Finally they reached shore and the worn out passerine made it safely into a shrub. The falcon found a perch nearby and sat for five minutes or so before flying off down the shore.

I have no idea where they came from or how long the chase lasted but it was spectacular to watch. It is seared into my memory perhaps because I did not have my camera with me, and so I sat and watched and soaked it in. I was glad to get such wonderful shots of this bird to work from, and honor that memory.

Artwork Page

2011-06-15T22:28:00.005-04:00

Hi all. Just wanted to let you know I've added a page to my blog. It's called "History of Me"--check it out there in the list of pages to your right. It's a history of my art, from First Grade to the present. It's kind of funny and I think you'll really enjoy it, so take a minute to take a look.

And thanks so much for reading my blog and taking this journey with me. It means a lot to be able to share all of it with you.

Indigo Bunting

2011-06-14T08:15:00.006-04:00

Now that I'm done with the Tawas Point Birding Festival I can get back to real-time blogging. Lisa, Lori and I paid a visit last week to the Brighton Rec Area to pull garlic mustard. The DNR's Stewardship program has workdays on the weekends where a group will get together, lead by the program's coordinator Laurel Malvitz, and do all sorts of habitat restoration. But thanks to our schedule (arts shows and markets on the weekends) we are rarely able to make it to these. So we try to get out and do some work mid-week.

We were working an area around a prairie that the state has been working hard to restore. Here we are working our way up the slope of a ravine.

Lisa with a handful of garlic mustard.

Where the trail cuts through the prairie we paused and listened and watched. I was curious to see who was hanging around this open space. To my delight we found not one but three male Indigo Buntings, rotating from tree to shrub to snag, singing and singing.

I decided to return the following morning, and I set my stool under a big maple tree across the trail from a snag that seemed to be a favorite perching point so I could get some pics of this gorgeous bird. We see them at our place only once a year, I guess as they're passing through, so I was thrilled with the opportunity to get to spend more time with them.

They did not disappoint!

This Goldfinch wanted in on the action too!

I sat for about 45 minutes, watching and listening, surprisingly unbothered by mosquitoes. What a treat!

Grasslands and More

2011-06-13T08:36:00.007-04:00

Saturday dawned wet and windy. I drove down to the hotel to meet the car pool group for the grasslands birding tour. I had run into a couple of friends at the dinner the previous night, Kathleen and Hartley. Kathleen is a biologist and works for Oakland County Parks and knows a great deal about birds. Since I have a conversion van that seats something like 57 people I invited them to ride along with me. That morning I ran into two ladies in the hotel lobby I had met on day one (Karen and Mary? again it has been too long and I have forgotten their names!) who joined us on the trip.

We met up with our guide, a first-timer named Matt, and we caravaned out to the old air force base in Oscoda. He proved to be quite adept at finding and identifying birds, especially by the their song. During the 20 minute trip Kathleen read to us about all the birds we could potentially see at the airport grassland--larks and sparrows of various kinds, Bobolinks and the elusive Upland Sandpiper. We were all a-twitter by the time we got to the airbase, excited by the prospects of what we might see.

We parked on an old concrete slab near the tarmac and poured out of our cars. It was 45 degrees, drizzling, with a wind from the north east at 25 mph. I could think of worse conditions to be birding in, but would be hard pressed to do so. Even so our enthusiasm wasn't dampened. Matt began briefing us on the birds that might be seen and then stopped and said, "I hear a Savannah Sparrow over there somewhere" and pointed to his left. All I could hear was the wind-driven rain against my slicker so I took his word for it.

As usual the group shuffled off one way and I went another. I guess I am just not one to follow the crowd. I saw two brown dots off at some distance moving through the green grass, which at this time was only about four inches tall. My camera was in the van so I got my glasses on the birds--through my binoculars they just looked like bigger brown lumps. So I said, again to no one in particular, "There are a couple of birds out there." The group came running. "Where? Where?!?" "There, just forward from that utility pole." The glasses and scopes went up, and after some careful consideration Matt announced "Upland Sandpipers!!" The group was elated. I looked again. Yep, brown lumps, but I was willing to take Matt's word for it, and made a mental note to check them off my list.

We moved a ways down a dirt path then stopped again. This time I got my camera out, and crouched in the lee of the van. Someone pointed out a pair of Bobolinks in the grass--this was the best I could do. There was also a Meadowlark on the fence but it was even farther away so I didn't bother with a photo.

As we watched the Bobolinks some else pointed out Horned Larks at the edge of the road. This was another new bird for me, and one that I had really hoped to see. I think its horns were plastered to its head by the rain, but here it is. Never did turn and face the camera.

I did eventually see the Savannah Sparrow, perched on a twig along the other fence row. Another new bird! Very similar to the White-throated but paler and with a longer yellow eyebrow. I noticed many of the grassland birds had yellow on them. Hmmm.....

We eventually bailed on the open fields in favor of a more sheltered area. Near the air base was a marsh that had only recently been opened to the public. This was the first place on this trip where I felt like I was up north--boggy with birch trees, black spruce and bearberry, I took a moment here to soak it in.

A pair of Trumpeter Swans glided across the water. They moved with such ease and speed it seemed as if they were being pulled across the water by strings.

I guess we were boring them....

After the grasslands tour Kathleen, Hartley and I stopped at a Mexican restaurant for lunch, then decided to skip the presentations that day and head back to the campground and hike the point. We parked near the lighthouse and picked up the trail head. A volunteer maintains an oriole feeding station near the trail head and the place was filthy with them. The two ladies who had ridden with us that morning had pulled into the lot five minutes before us and said they had been watching an Orchard Oriole from their car but it had just flown away. Darn it! I did get some nice poses from the Baltimore Orioles, though.

Not too long into the hike we saw the Ring-necked Pheasant cock that I had heard on previous jaunts. He hurried along the other arm of the trail.

The weather was still pretty nasty, and we talked about turning around and heading back, but I was determined to walk the loop. I'm glad I did. Just around the corner was a Swainson's Thrush, another first. Cute little bird with long legs and a buffy face, he did not seem too bothered by us.

Around another bend and this Blue-gray Gnatcatcher posed prettily among some branches.

But the most exciting moment for me came out on the point. The trail was turning to head back but a short off-shoot went out towards the water. I followed its call. There among the grasses was a female American Redstart, hunting bugs in the rain.

I followed her, trying to keep her in focus as she hopped and fluttered. Finally she landed on this branch and flashed her tail feathers at me.

The end!

Near Disaster

2011-06-11T08:28:00.007-04:00

What the heck is this, you ask? Well, this is what happens when you set your camera and tripod down, don't pull one of the legs out all the way, and it tips over when your back is turned, smashing onto a tile floor.

We had just returned from the Kirtland's Warbler bus tour, and the rain that had dogged us all morning had finally come and it was pouring. I needed to get to my van so I could go get ice for my cooler and make lunch before the seminars began. I stopped in the hotel lobby to ask the T-shirt vendor if they had a bag I could put over my camera--I'd left all that stuff in the van. I had set the tripod down and turned to reach for the bag when the fellow said "Watch out!" and I turned in time to see it hit the floor. It made a tremendous crash, the lens cap went shooting across the room, and there was a sudden silence as everyone turned to look. I said something silly like, "That was unfortunate", picked the thing up, thanked the women who had retrieved my lens cap, and slunk out of the hotel.

So in the van I started looking over my gear. The camera seemed fine. My 300mm lens, however, was not happy, and that was one of the first pictures I took with it. I tried all sorts of different combinations, took the 1.4x converter off, tried both camera bodies, all with the same effect. I was mad. Never in 30 years have I dropped a camera. I also rarely use a strap or a tripod. Only now, when I took my hand off of it for a second, did I have an accident.

I cussed and swore and cried a little. I considered going home. I put all the gear away and sulked. But after a few minutes I got the lens out again and looked it over. I noticed something seemed loose inside. I gave it a good shake--what was there to lose? I hooked it back up to a camera and fiddled with it, and realized that the problem had something to do with the image stabilizer in the lens. After messing around with it, I got it to start working again. Whew! So I made myself a sandwich, ate a quick lunch, and went back in to listen to the welcome speech. I decided though to skip the first seminar, go get gas and ice, and then test the lens.

The hotel is right on the beach, so I took the camera down to the shore to see what was hanging around. First I saw this Spotted Sandpiper working its way towards the pier. I can see, looking at this bird, how woodcocks and snipes are in the shorebird family. The have very similar facial features.

As I moved closer to the water I saw a Kildeer, who spotted me as well.

It made a half-hearted attempt at the broken wing display then flew off. I looked for a nest or young birds but didn't see either.

I then turned my attention to the water where I saw a group of Common Mergansers. I had never seen the male before--my experience with them was always mom with chicks, at which point dad is long gone.

Satisfied that my camera was going to be able to limp along for the rest of the weekend, I went back into the hotel to catch the next talk, one on warbler ID. I was surprised to learn that there are 37 species of warbler in Michigan, and I ticked off in my head the ones I had seen. But there were many I had not, and one that struck me as particularly handsome was the Chestnut-sided. Ooo! I thought, I want to see that bird!

After the warbler talk I decided to skip the last seminar and head back to the campground. The big dinner with Don and Lillian Stokes of Stokes Nature Guides fame was that evening. I needed to get changed and regroup. I ended up taking a nap, but had about 10 minutes before I needed to leave. I grabbed my camera sans tripod and made the short walk into the woods. There, tumbling and spinning through the trees, was a female Black and White Warbler. I love the pattern on her tail coverts, it reminds me of the Empire State Building.

I also saw a Magnolia and Yellow-rumped Warbler, then spotted this young fellow in the tree directly before and above me.

A Chestnut-sided Warbler! I'm telling you, I need to wish for a million dollars, because here was the bird just a few hours before I was hoping I would get to see. And thanks to Roger Erikkson, who had give the warbler presentation, I knew this was a first year male--his chestnut stripe was broken in the middle.

And then, as if on cue, a breeding male showed up, his solid chestnut stripe and bolder markings showing the difference very clearly.

Dinner that night was fabulous, Don and Lillian hawked their new book, and I returned to the campground late and crashed. Rain moved in with some thunder, making for a restless night. I had signed up to take a car pool trip to look for grassland birds in the morning, and I wondered if I had enough rain gear with me!

Kirtland's Warbler Management Area

2011-06-07T13:44:00.012-04:00

Friday morning at the Tawas Point Birding Festival found a group of us on a bus bound for the Kirtland's Warbler Management Area in search of, naturally, Kirtland's Warblers. The old school bus bounced and thrashed its way down the un-maintained sand roads of this public land, the roar of its engine all but drowning out the voice of our guide, whose name I have shamefully forgotten. At any rate, he filled us in on all the basics of Kirtland's Warbler management and why the bird needs it.

The Kirtland's is a particular bird. It nests on the ground beneath the drooping branches of Jack pines. Period. No other tree will do. Not only that, but it needs those trees to be of a certain age--between 5 and 20 years old, and of equal height. Any older (taller) than that and the tree no longer provides adequate cover for the nest.

Jack pine habitat is very limited, and is concentrated in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan. This area is very sandy and dry, and historically was prone to frequent fires. These fires kept the Jack pine habitat regularly rejuvenated--the Jack pine's cones need fire in order to release it seeds.

The problem is that we don't like fires. Fires burn up our stuff. So when modern fire suppression began around the turn of the 20th century, the Kirtland's numbers suffered a sharp decline, and by the 1960's there were fewer than 200 singing males reported. So when the Endangered Species Act was passed, we began to manage public lands to replicate the natural conditions that this bird needs in order to survive. It's very labor intensive as we still don't burn the areas. The trees are harvested, the ground prepared and young trees are planted. But it has been a successful effort--in 2010 the number of singing males was recorded at 1,820, and for the first time since we've been paying attention, there are breeding pairs in Ontario and Wisconsin.

It was a gray morning and rain threatened. We spread out along the dirt road and our guides listened for the male's song. We were there perhaps 10 minutes when someone spotted a male, perched atop a young oak, warbling away. I was lucky to be pretty close and got a few shots before he flew away.

Others were spotted as we moved through the area but they were all even farther away and only clearly visible with a strong spotting scope. I was satisfied with having seen one so I started watching to see who else was out there. This pretty little Nashville Warbler stopped close by.

The rather open habitat was dotted with taller trees and snags, providing great perches for males of all species to sing their songs. At one stop this Brown Thrasher sang the entire time we were there.

A female Rose-breasted Grosbeak perched prettily by the side of the road, offering us some great looks.

We moved out of the Jack pine habitat into one of hardwoods with an open forest floor. This area was maintained as a fire break, and had had a controlled burn done in it just a week before. The smell of the fresh burn struck us as we stepped off the bus. We had stopped there to look for Red-headed Woodpeckers, although I never saw one. I did however finally get a few (fuzzy) shots of a male Scarlet Tanager!

My big moment came while we were woodpecker hunting. I looked up at this oak and noticed a funny lump on a branch silhouetted against the sky. I got the camera around on it and saw this:

Most of the group was off to my right, 20 to 40 feet or so. I said, to no one in particular, "I think I see a Whip-poor-will." I was stunned by the reaction! It was like in a cartoon--the group moved, en masse and at record speed, to surrounded me. "Where! Where!" they asked excitedly. You'd have thought I'd spotted Johnny Depp or Angelina Jolie out there in the woods. I pointed it out and the scopes went up.

It turned out not to be a Whip-poor-will but a Common Nighthawk. Well, I was close, anyway--at least I didn't call it a Snow Bunting or something. This was a life bird for many (and me too, as I had only heard it before this), so the group was all a-twitter.

Here it is, cropped in. I wish I could figure out in what direction it's looking--I imagine it's squat head is turned toward the camera, but it could just as easily be looking the other way.

It was just a matter of luck that I spotted this bird. Twenty feet to my right or left put the bird in front of a background of branches and trees--once I moved I had a hard time finding it again even though I knew where it was. I received many congratulations and I felt, for a moment, like a bona fide birder--even if I hadn't known at first what the heck I was looking at!

Birds on the Beach Pt. 2

2011-06-02T13:24:00.009-04:00

Before I left for the Tawas Point Birding Festival I was flipping through a bird book, taking a look at the warblers. Good grief, I had no idea how many of the damn things there are! I was signed up for a bus tour through the Kirtland's Warbler Management Area, but was not really all that excited about seeing one. Because of its endangered status, and because it breeds almost exclusively in Michigan, we hear about it A LOT. But as I was flipping pages I saw a little bird called a Black and White Warbler. How cute! And better yet, I didn't even know such a thing existed, so I got all excited at the prospect of seeing one, and I mentioned this to Lisa and Lori. I had done the same last spring before one my Florida trips, announcing that I wanted to see a Loggerhead Shrike, then saw one in the parking lot at Pelican Island.

I should say that I'd like to see a winning lottery ticket, because as I was making my way off the beach and back into the trees, who did I see but this male Black and White Warbler.

I very nearly squealed, and wrestled my camera and tripod into place. It was starting to get pretty dark and I worried about not having enough light, but I managed a handful of fuzzy shots.

Much like a nuthatch or creeper, this little warbler works the trunks of trees, gleaning insects from the nooks and crannies. Quick and agile it was a challenge keeping up with him.

I watched until he flew away, then did a little dance.

Soon after a Yellow-rumped Warbler appeared, showing off his bold markings. I want to pinch his cheeks!

Not nearly so interested in having his picture taken, this American Redstart, another of the warbler family, wouldn't come out of the brush, so this was the best I could do.

The sun was nearly set and the light getting quite dim on this mostly overcast night so I made my way back to the paved trail. Of course movement caught my eye and I stopped to watch this bird, nearly double the size of the warblers but looking, to me, very warbler like. Yellow-breasted Chat? I thought excitedly. Thank goodness I have a camera to record what I see, because this isn't a chat-they have black on their faces. So what the heck...? Not until I got home and had time to study this bird did I realize it was a female Scarlet Tanager. I had seen one once before, here at home, and it took me over a month to identify it. Perhaps next time I'll know her on sight!

The sun made one last appearance before it slipped below the horizon, and shone on the lighthouse. I headed back to the van, amazed and exhausted by the fabulous day. I photographed 29 birds that day, 23 different species, three of which were "life" birds. Not too shabby!

Next: Kirtland's Warbler and more!

Artwork--Chickadee triptych

2011-05-31T12:01:00.004-04:00

Just finished a series of three Black-capped chickadees. I ran across this little fellow at the Shiawasee National Wildlife Refuge last spring. He posed so prettily and did all sorts of cute things like yawn and stretch his wings. He was really checking us out, must have watched him for nearly 5 minutes. It was quite a treat.

The originals will be matted and framed together, though I am not certain of the size yet. The prints will be done like this and matted to 10x20. Be sure to click on the image to get a bigger view.

Tree Swallow Courtship

2011-05-27T07:15:00.008-04:00

I stood on the beach with my back to the water, trying to identify a sparrow that was working its way through the grasses, when I heard a ruckus in the water behind me. I spun around and saw two Tree swallows in the shallows, apparently a male attempting to mate with a female.

She was having none of it.

Next: Birds on the Beach Pt. 2

Birds on the Beach Pt. 1

2011-05-26T08:23:00.010-04:00

As with any birding festival, there were lots of tours and things to chose from. Many of them took place at Tawas Point, a little spit of land that juts out into the Saginaw Bay in Lake Huron. For those of you unfamiliar with the area, here is a map of Northern Michigan...

...and a closer map of the Tawas area. The tip of the peninsula is a state park, and I had decided to camp there rather than incur the additional expense of staying in a hotel. Therefore, I didn't sign up for any of the tours at the park, figuring I would have time to explore it on my own.

The Tawas peninsula is a perfect stop-over spot for the birds who move up the Lake Huron shoreline and then fly across the Saginaw Bay. During the festival this year, 174 birds species were recorded at Tawas Point and surrounding area--this in just a four day period!

After the bus tour along the Au Sable I had dinner with a couple I'd met on the tour, then went back to the park, grabbed my gear and hit the trail.

The section of trail that leads to the lighthouse is paved. As I walked along it I could hear scores of birds in the trees and shrubs around me.

To my left I heard a bird singing and stopped to watch. I saw this bird in a pine tree and was so excited, certain it was a new bird to me. I realized later, looking through Sibley's, that it was a young Baltimore oriole, his head not yet all black. Ah well, a girl can dream, right?

I never did make it as far as the lighthouse. The birds calling from the trees on my right drew me in. The habitat was open and grassy in places, treed in others. I knew there'd be lots of birds here!

While I stood under the trees and watched, trying to figure out what birds were making all the noise, a male Yellow warbler flew into view.

After watching for some time I realized the birds making the most racket were Eastern kingbirds. This one posed nicely on a twig out on the beach.

As I watched the kingbird, movement caught my eye among the short willows on the beach. I was amazed to see a male Ruby-throated hummingbird feeding on the blossoms. I had never seen a hummer outside a garden or sugar water feeder. There were three or four of them nearby, filling up on nectar.

The sun peaked through a gap in the clouds and I spotted this little fellow hunting bugs on the sand.

What gorgeous colors! I had seen a Palm warbler last year in Florida but I had not gotten this good of a look at it. I am not sure how it got its name since there are clearly no palm trees here, but I guess the same can be said for all sorts of birds--Baltimore oriole, Nashville warbler.... Perhaps the first person to see one--well, the first white Western European, anyway--saw it in a palm tree.

Whatever the case, it's a lovely little bird and I enjoyed watching it.

Next: dance of the swallows

Along the Au Sable River

2011-05-25T08:18:00.008-04:00

After a very hectic and somewhat scary weekend in Indianapolis I am home and ready to blog about birds. The show was pretty slow but the weather was anything but. We had a nasty storm rage through the show on Sunday, wiping out several booths. I came through unscathed but it was a frightening experience being in the booth with what had to have been at least 50mph winds blasting my tent, watching my life's work flop around on the walls as we were battered by the gale. I had a family of five in the booth, who had taken refuge from the storm, and along with Lisa and I we held on tight until the storm passed.

I will have to rethink doing shows south of Michigan in May, as the weather seems to be quite volatile--just ask the folks in Joplin, Missouri. My heart goes out to them.

So on to more pleasant things! The Tawas Point Birding Festival was a joy and an amazing experience for me. I had never attended a festival of this sort before, and am really only a recent bird watcher/life lister, so I had lots to learn. I think my novice status helped make this even more exciting for me--I've identified so few birds up to now that it seemed every time I turned around I was seeing something for the first time.

On Thursday I took a bus tour out along the River Road National Scenic Byway that parallels the Au Sable river. It was an where area I had spent some time in the past as Lisa's family used to have a cottage in there. The bus took us out to the Westgate Overlook, where I saw a Nashville warbler, male Grosbeak and a robin with a mouth full of mud. I stayed put at one over look while much of the group walked down to a second. They got to see a male Scarlet tanager, who apparently posed for them while they ogled and snapped lots of pictures. Ah well.

One of the things that struck me about the area was the number of White-crowned sparrows. We usually see one here at home, just once in mid-May, and then don't one again until the next year. Up in Northern Michigan they were everywhere!

Our second stop landed us at Iargo Springs. The road is on the bluff-side of the river, and here there was a 300+ step stairway leading down across several creeks to the river. While the first stop was hot and dry, this place was cool and damp, and there were hemlocks and yellow birch. Here I saw, at quite a distance, a Blackburnian warbler, as well as a Song sparrow, a Black-throated green warbler and more Nashville warblers.

Our last stop was at Lumberman's Monument. Here there was a small gift shop and drinking fountains. I mention the fountains because when we left for the tour, it was around 65 degrees. By the time we got inland it was near 80, and none of us was prepared for the heat. I resisted the urge to stick my whole head in the fountain but did drink like a camel.

A pair of Eastern wood pewees hoped about the branches over the sidewalk near the monument. This one caught itself a snack.

Farther down the trail a group of folks had gathered, trying to identify this bird. We finally decided it was a Pine warbler.

The Au Sable River is a wide, shallow, placid river that is dammed in quite a few places along this stretch, nearest Lake Huron. There are many places along its course where the bank is scarred from the practice years ago of rolling logs down to the river--you can see one here on the right. The timber industry pretty much harvested this part of the state down to bare ground, with much of the timber going to construct such towns as Buffalo, New York. But some areas have been allowed to grow back, without being harvested again, and finally we are back to having 100 year old trees in Northern Michigan.

Posing very nicely in a young tree by the overlook was this pair of Northern rough-winged swallows. I didn't even know such a bird existed. They were joined shortly by a third, and I spent some time watching them.

Once the tour was done, I stopped by a small park along Lake Huron with a couple of ladies from the bus ride to do some more birding. There were gobs--GOBS--of White-crowned sparrows, but also a male and female Northern parula in the trees. This isn't the greatest shot but it shows the olive-colored patch on the parula's back.

This one got itself a nice, juicy bug.

And last but not least, one of my favorite warblers, maybe because we have them near home, a female Yellow warbler plied the same trees in search of a meal.

Next: Birds on the beach.

Broad Ripple Art Fair

2011-05-18T13:13:00.003-04:00

Well, I have received a last-minute invite to the Broad Ripple Art Fair in Indianapolis, Indiana. Yay!! This was a great show for me last year and I am happy to get the chance to do it again. But that means I will be scrambling the next few days to get ready and may not have a chance to write.

If you haven't already, check out the page at right for the Tawas Point Birding Festival--it's a portfolio of all the birds I photographed while up in northern Michigan last weekend. Hopefully I'll have a chance to write about it next week!

Tawas Point Birding Festival

2011-05-15T16:48:00.002-04:00

Holy Cow! Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw over the past several days up in Michigan's northern lower peninsula. The Tawas Point Birding Festival was an amazing experience, thanks in part to the awesome folks from Michigan Audubon and all the wonderful volunteers who lead our tours and walks. Their knowledge and experience made this event so much fun, and I saw more birds than I could ever have imagined.

At right is a page I posted as a portfolio of the birds I was able to photograph. I will be doing some posts about the trip in the coming weeks, but I really wanted to get this photographic list posted so everyone can see a bit of what I experienced.

I can't wait for next year!!

Baltimore Oriole

2011-05-11T15:37:00.001-04:00

May 10th was a stellar day at Bear Track Studios. Around 10am that morning I caught my annual glimpse of an Indigo bunting. I have seen one, only once, each of the past three years now. I don't know why they don't stay around but am grateful to be able to see one.

That evening, I happened to be sitting in my studio enjoying a little quiet time, and looked up to see an American redstart in the black cherry behind the studio. While I've seen them other places I've never seen one here before so it is a first for BTS.

But the highlight of the day was the pair of Baltimore orioles that showed up at the Humming bird feeder. Lori said she thought she'd heard one the day before but didn't see one. Well, here they were, shipping sugar water from the feeder. We scrambled around and got some grape jelly, hoping to entice them to stay. We found out today that the female uses strips of old milkweed stems to weave her nest, and we finally have a decent amount of milkweed growing, so we're keeping our fingers crossed.

These were shot through a screen so they're a bit fuzzy.

I am off to the East Tawas Birding Festival (see right hand side bar). I am quite excited, hoping to meet bunches of birders as well as Don and Lillian Stokes who will be speaking at dinner Friday night. I also hope to come back with some great bird photos and stories to share!

More Warblers

2011-05-11T08:45:00.005-04:00

Right off the bat I want to apologise for the crappy quality of these images. Lori and I returned to the creek where Lisa and I had seen the Black-throated blue the day before, and I set up my camera and tripod and watched for movement in the trees on the far bank. But these birds are small, and there seemed always to be branches in the way, and even with a 420mm there's only so much I can do. These images are heavily cropped on top of that, so....

ANYWAY, I caught a pair of Yellow rumped warblers, the male,

and female searching for bugs in the canopy.

I then spotted another bird, got the camera around and began shooting. It was so far away that all I could tell is that it was probably another warbler. Not until I got home did I see that it was a Northern parula, another first for me. Yay!

Note the yellow chin and orange breast.

Hopefully I can get some better shots down the road, although the window for songbird photography is closing. Soon the trees will be completely leafed out and they will be nearly impossible to see.

I did manage a nice shot of a Blue-gray gnatcatcher resting among new maple leaves.

We also found this nest, which Lori later identified as made by a Red-eyed vireo, so we have another bird to watch out for!

Spring Wildflowers

2011-05-10T08:14:00.006-04:00

On our wildflower walk the other day in the Brighton Rec Area, which turned into warbler walk, we did actually see wildflowers. It was such a wonderful afternoon, warm and sunny. It has been such a cold spring here that it was a relief to get out and stretch our legs without needing so much as a jacket.

I was happy to see we hadn't missed the trillium blooming. They would normally be about done by this time of the year, but only half of the trillium we saw were open all the way. This one was conversing with a rue anemone.

Jack-in-the-pulpit, always a favorite.

Marsh marigold were profuse any place where there was water.

This plant is not common in these woods. It is in the Cress family, though I am not sure if it's purple or spring cress--or neither!

Miterwort bows its head to the sun.

The maidenhair fern was coiled tightly like a child's fist clutching some small treasure.

Wild oats back lit by the evening sun.

Interrupted fern too was tightly bound but already two feet tall.

Farther along the trail may apples lined the top of a ridge.

The trees are getting in on the action too]. This hickory sapling's leaves had just burst forth.

It seems like everything is exploding at once this year, the forest's flowers delayed by the cold but the trees more or less on time. In a week the woods will be completely transformed, many of the flowers will be gone and the birds will be hard to find in the dense forest canopy. I need to get out again and explore the woods in this all too short time of emergence and renewal.

Woods Walk

2011-05-09T08:20:00.004-04:00

After a long day in the car coming home from a poor show in Madison, Wisconsin, a drive that took us through one of the biggest cities in the country (Chicago) and one of the most polluted industrial areas in the country (Gary, Indiana) I was ready for a walk in the woods. Lisa and I unloaded the van, grabbed binoculars and camera gear, and set off to check on our little spot in the woods, the place were we've been pulling garlic mustard to help preserve the native flora there.

My intent was to get pictures of whatever flowers were blooming, so I didn't bring along my tripod, or my lens extender that turns my 300mm into a 420, necessary equipment for photographing birds. As fate would have it, long before we came across any trillium or Jack-in-the-pulpit, we ran into some birds.

The first part of the trail runs along a marsh, and it's a great place to see birds. The first one we spotted was a Black-throated green warbler. I was so excited--I've only seen this bird once before, last year in Ontario, and to find it practically in my back yard was a delight.

In that same spot was a pair of Blue-gray gnatcatchers. The female was working the branches looking for, well, gnats I suppose, while the male sat and sang to the little lady.

A closer shot of the male.

After checking out our target area, which was pleasantly devoid of garlic mustard (yay!) we decided to walk the rest of the loop. We came across an Eastern towhee working the leaves under an Autumn olive, then further along heard a song neither one of us recognized. We stopped and waited to watch for movement in the shrubs. Finally this little fellow showed himself--a Magnolia warbler!

This was a first for me and I took a whole bunch of crappy photos to celebrate. I plan on going back out today with the proper equipment and try to get some better shots.

Next we spotted a pair of White-throated sparrows. This is the male--notice his yellow lores, the area just in front of his eye.

Where the end of the trail meets the beginning, I again heard rustling in the leaves under some shrubs. We waited patiently, me squatting with camera ready as the bird was behind some branches at first. Finally it emerged. An Ovenbird! At first I thought it was a kinglet, so small and olive-colored. For some reason I thought Ovenbirds were brown and stripped. Silly me.

Last but not least, near a small creek that crosses the trail, we saw this Black-throated blue warbler. Again, I had seen this bird last year in Ontario, but never here at home. What a treat! I can't wait to get out this afternoon and see what else we can find!

"In every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks." John Muir

So true--we went looking for wildflowers and found a whole bunch of warblers instead!

Artwork--Blue Jay

2011-05-05T17:44:00.003-04:00

I haven't yet come up with a title for this piece, but it will not be "Blue Jay"--I think I can think of something a little more creative than that! (The piece now has a title: "Bad Reputation" thanks to its, well, bad reputation as a bird that eats the eggs and chicks of other birds. This is not a common habit, however, and the jay eats mostly nuts and seeds.)

This is a bird who was on my feeders last winter, and I was able to get some great shots through my studio window. I liked the contemplative look about him--or her, it's nearly impossible to tell.

I am off to Madison, Wisconsin tomorrow for an Audubon art fair. I've never done this show, am a bit nervous about driving so far (eight hours) for a one day show--the weather could wipe us out--but I am keeping my fingers crossed. I am happy to have gotten this done in time for the show.