TRUMPETERS & TAMARACKS

This weekend I'm reflecting on a year of memories with my friend, Rosie, and so many others involved in efforts to restore Sherwood Lake in southeastern Clark County.  A dam failure at this favorite local spot back in February of 2014, has left the lake high and dry.  We've been busy fundraising to get the lake restored since last October when we started up a group called Friends of Sherwood Lake.

The golden tamarack needles and rust colored oak leaves are reflecting on the surface of our pond today too, with help from a clear blue sky, bright sunshine, and no wind worth mentioning.

Earlier this week, I was sitting out by the pond in late afternoon when I heard a distant trumpet call, high up in the southeastern sky.  It was a welcome sound, one I don't hear often, but one that lights up my world.  It didn't take long until I spotted six trumpeter swans heading my way and watched them continue flying overhead toward the northwest, passing our place by.

I like to challenge nature so I shouted out loud, "Hey, you guys, come back!"  Abruptly, and to my shear amazement, the swans quickly turned around and landed near the bistro bench, where I'm sitting today writing in my journal.  There were two adults and four young swans in the group and they kept their distance, swimming back and forth along the far edge of the pond.  Thankfully, I was able to walk back to the cabin, grab my camera, and take a few pictures before they left.

Three days later, I drove out to Sherwood Lake for some needed therapy.  After spending time walking along the edge of the dry lake bed, I pulled up by the fundraising sign and parked my car.  Our group's efforts are nearly over and I wanted to update the meter.

It was about 1:30 p.m. when I finished marking up the large plywood sign posted at the lake's entrance, and I began hearing trumpet calls to the north.  Looking into the sky overhead, I saw six trumpeter swans, two adults and four young ones, flying high above me.  I grabbed my camera from my pocket and snapped a few pix as I watched them slowly glide down and settle in to the far west end of the marshy lake bed.  Then all was quiet and peaceful.  I felt as if the swans, perhaps the same ones who visited our pond the other day, were giving me a sign, and letting me know that everything is going to be o.k.

 

Plans are now underway to dredge the lake this winter and repair the dam next summer.  It's been a grand year of memories, and thanks to the hard work of so many people, it won't be long until the swans have their water back at Sherwood Lake.

GIFT DAYS

It's just a beautiful fall afternoon to rest out on the back twenty.  Light breezes are blowing and the sun will set in a short while.  I'm quietly sitting, observing, and listening.

Nothing special is happening... but now I hear the crackling of the leaves and a doe walking near me.  I try to get a photo and she bolts with her white tail high in the air and runs back from the way she came.  A young deer is with her but stays.  It walks in a nearly complete circle around me, just curious, and then slowly fades away into the woods behind me.  I take a few quick shots of the young deer with my camera.

Perhaps this is three legged deer's spring fawn.

This sun is setting now and the forest is quiet.  The curled up, dried ferns scattered all around me, even though no longer green and alive, are still pretty.  Last night was the coldest night so far this fall with temperatures in the low 20's.

The smell of the leaves and pine needles at my feet help make the atmosphere in my woods just right.
I can still hear deer walking slowly in the distance and squirrels scampering about.  The dry and crisp freshly fallen leaves make it hard for them to move about without making sounds.

Today is one of those "gift days" of autumn.  Grandpa said days such as this one are are "gifts" because they allow one to get all the necessary things done before winter comes.  I'd like to sit out here until it's pitch dark and I can hardly find my way back to the cabin.  Today would be a grand day to stop the clock, so it would never end.

In the distance, sandhill cranes are calling to one another.  They are gathering together and getting ready to fly south soon.  It's a gift day for them too.

HERE TODAY, GONE TOMORROW - AUTUMN LEAVES

I shouldn't attempt to describe the beauty of this October Wisconsin day because I'll never do it justice.  With temperatures in the 70's, clear blue sky and sunshine, and just the right shades of yellows, reds, oranges, rusts, and magentas, today has indeed been put together like a perfect autumn quilt!

A light breeze blows through the treetops, casting shadows on my journal, while I sit near the creek with my back against a white pine tree.  Pine needles coat the forest floor beneath me, but maple leaves are settling atop them and stealing the show.

When I arrived at this spot to ponder, I startled a partridge with my camera.  He saw me well before I ever saw him and that's usually my experience with partridges in the woods.

The smell of October in a Wisconsin forest, the aroma of fallen leaves, is something I always welcome.  I'd best describe it as earthy, sweet, and maybe a little bit spicy.  If you've ever smelled autumn, you'll know just what I mean.  It tends to leave you with a kind of nostalgic feeling.

The wind today is covering up the forest sounds but I can hear a few chickadees, blue jays, and squirrels in between the gentle swishes of the pine branches.  It's been a long week for me, but I'm starting to turn the corner and get my strength and good cheer back again.  This beautiful October day leaves me with contentment and thankfulness for the chance to take it all in and share a part of it with you.

Just as I'm about to head back to the cabin, a gray squirrel forages on the ground for acorns and gives me a wink.  As he passes by, ambling along through the freshly fallen leaves, I watch him nibble on a mushroom.

                         When Autumn leaves start falling,

Slowly drifting to the ground,

                   Branches part to an open sky

Where winds blow through

And days turn gray...

'Til we wait for green again.

TAIL on the TRAIL

I was looking for inspiration today for a new blog post and feeling a tad melancholy, reflecting about the third anniversary of my cancer dx.  I'll be the first to admit I didn't think I'd still be here yet today.  I was going to journal about mushrooms or about finding the secret spring this past week, until I took a stroll down the northwest passage this morning, which of course is northwest of the cabin, and I found a tail on the trail.



There it laid, bright reddish orange in color with black trim around the edges, on the trail before me.  It had belonged to a red squirrel I suppose, and maybe it was leftover from a meal last night by a fox, a bobcat, or some other critter.  I picked the tail up, flipped it over, and dropped it back down in the spot where I found it.  Morning dew scattered water droplets on the fur.  Just as I put it down, a tiny shrew popped out beside it, then scurried buck under the leaves.

Death is all around us in nature.  It is an every day occurrence for animals to kill their prey and is necessary to help control population.  If one species becomes too abundant, others suffer, and life gets out of balance.  There are some animals that humans have to control because they have few or no natural predators.  Namely, where we live, overpopulation occurs with beaver, raccons, and whitetail deer if we don't intercede.  And so today, when finding this pretty little red tail on the trail, I have gathered the courage to share another tale with you that I've been keeping to myself.  It's a tale that needs to be told for those of you who follow my blog.

Two weeks ago, the three legged deer, often a subject of my posts, was harvested by a bow hunter.  The hunter didn't know she had three legs as she was partially behind a tree when the shot took place.  He had not been following my blog.  Admittedly, I shed a tear or two, when I learned of her demise, as she was kind of a survivor mentor to me.  After a short time, I thought hard, and accepted the facts that follow.  The three legged deer would no longer have to suffer and lurch forward in such painstaking ways every time she walked.  She would not be a victim of a wolf attack or starve to death this winter without the ability to paw away snow to find food.  She was able to reproduce at least two years and had two fawns.  She was a gift.  Sometimes we have to accept what is best and I have no hard feelings.  I've been a hunter myself and appreciate my own long family tradition of Wisconsin deer hunting.

As I sit with my journal by an oak tree along the northwest passage, not far from the tail on the trail, I open my ears to the sounds of blue jays and gray squirrels chattering.  The combination of red, orange, and yellow leaves on the trees, along with those yet still green, and golden cluster of ferns make magic throughout the woods that surround me.

I hear leaves crunching to the east, and look up to see a large group of turkeys passing through, single file, stretching their necks up and down.

There is always something to hear and see in the woods if you look hard enough and have patience, and fall is a grand time of year.

I hope you can get out there and enjoy the season!