A LITTLE FEAR IS O.K.

Today is the first day I've been able to journal outside in weeks.  The temperature is 30 degrees and it's sunny with strong winds blowing.  My ink pen keeps skipping but I don't feel like writing with a pencil.


As I walked to the knoll here today I saw many fresh wolf tracks along Tom's Creek.  I actually felt a tiny twinge of fear so I picked up a walking stick and carried it across the creek with me on my hike.  Sometimes it's o.k. to admit you have a little bit of fear.  I had hoped to get my chest port removed this week, but my number was up a little yesterday, so my doctor said "no".  There is just a little bit of fear with that too.                        

  Look at the size of these tracks!

Today I'm focusing on the wind and how it blows the tree tops all around.  I see the tiny white pine trees dance back and forth and tall popple tree tops sway around almost in half circles, first in one direction and then back in the other.  Their light colored bark is beautiful against the blue sky lit up by the sun light.  The oak trees don't seem to sway much at all.  Perhaps an oak tree is the kind to be when there is a little fear, a little danger in your heart.

The noisy wind is keeping the birds and critters in hiding because it doesn't let them hear very well.  They need to stop and listen when they are out and about, so they feel safe.  It looks like it's just the trees and me today on the knoll... and the wind.  I'm o.k. with that.  We'll take one day at a time and see where it leads us.

NOTE: When strong winds blow in the forest, watch out for widow makers.   
Or...   Watch out for falling branches that can hurt you.

Here's a special "hello" to Mrs. Stone's 2nd grade class.   Next week I'm going to share a story about my brother's encounter with a black bear in wintertime - just for you.  Thank you for following my blog!      Kay

PORCUPINES

Two days ago I was walking home on the trail east of our cabin when I spotted something out of place in a pine tree.  I have a habit of looking up at the tree tops in wintertime hoping to see something unexpected but seldom do.  Years ago, my son and I were hiking across the creek about this time of year and looked up into a large white pine to see a great gray owl staring back at us.  We'll never forget that rare owl's visit to our woods.

The other day I didn't see an owl but a large gray ball up in the white pine tree that looked out of place, way up near the top.  I inched my way through the snow close to the base of the tree and took a few photos.

What I'd spotted was a large porcupine clinging to a branch near the tree's top.  I've seen porkies sit up high in trees before and I'm not sure why they do this in the middle of winter.  Sometimes they get carried away with their voracious appetite, stripping off enough bark to kill the tree. 

The porcupine was in this white pine, near the top, on the left.

Porcupines are strange animals.  I remember the havoc they caused when my brother's hound dogs got into a tangle with them.  The dogs ended up with noses filled with sharp quills from the porky.  The quills are of various sizes and have very sharp tips.  A porcupine cannot throw a quill at something; he has to come in direct contact before the quills will stick. 


A beautiful form of artwork called "quilling" has interested me for many years.  Porcupine quills are used like thread to stitch designs into birch bark, creating animals, flowers, and other beautiful designs.   The holes in the bark are predrilled making it easier to weave the quills back and forth through the bark.  The quills are sometimes dyed different colors too. Often quill work is stitched on birch bark trinket boxes.  I bought one as a keepsake and mine has a beaver on the lid of the box.

I gathered the quills in the photo above from a road kill porcupine, and poked my fingers a few times in the process!

Old folks used to say the best thing about a porcupine in the bush was that it could provide an easy meal for a hungry hunter, as the animal never moves far or fast and makes an easy target.   I don't think I'd enjoy eating a porcupine but then, I'm not starving!

NOTHING WASTED - TRAIL CAMERA TELLS ALL

I'm reflecting tonight on a story that our trail camera told us in the winter of 2013.  Although these
graphic pictures show death, they also show reality and the way of nature and my husband and I both think they are worth sharing.

One crisp day while on a short hike in our woods, we encountered a deer carcass not far from Tom's Creek.  A small dead doe was curled up in the snow, hair scattered all about, most likely the victim of a wolf attack.  Young deer, and of course unhealthy deer, are most vulnerable in wintertime.  Sometimes they starve to death in harsh winters, so to see one perish at the paws or jaws of a wolf is not necessarily upsetting, but simply nature's way.  At least this appeared to be the case in this situation.

Upon finding the young deer carcass, my hubby decided to set up a trail camera nearby to see who might come calling.   We were surprised to see what unfolded.  The trail cam photos below are in succession.  We were amazed at how many critters benefited from one young deer's tragedy.

Our first photo brought in a beautiful red fox.

Crows gathered around the carcass the following morning.  This was one of many photos triggered by the hungry black birds.

A raccoon came to call late in the evening on day two.

Our largest late night visitor may have been the culprit in the first place, a medium sized timber wolf.

Just typing the words "timber wolf" in a sentence and thinking it was right out in our woods still fascinates me.






Wolves today are the subject of so much controversy but they do exist among us today and their presence, which in my younger years was unheard of, simply amazes me.

Lastly, Mr. Bobcat, came to call later the same night as the timber wolf.  It didn't take very long for the entire carcass to disappear.










It was simply amazing how little went to waste and how many participated in the meal.  I'm sure there may have been smaller critters looking for a meal that we didn't capture, such as mice, voles, or weasels.  Nature has a way of cleaning up it's unsightliness.

One day this past fall, before the snow covered the ground, I noticed a few bones from what remained of the little doe in that same spot in our woods.  I took the skull, shiny and white from the sun, and placed it on a tree branch nearby.  I always do that and don't ask me why, because I don't know.  I guess it's just my way of showing respect and hoping the little deer's soul went back to the spirit world where it came from.

TRACKS IN THE SNOW - A SHORT WINTER WALK

I took a short walk late this afternoon in our woods heading behind the barn on the game trail toward Tom's Creek.   I hiked up the tractor trail to the dike and then down the Northwest Passage back to our home.  It felt good to breathe in some fresh air even though the temps were chilly.

It's amazing how many critter tracks fill up the woods in a very short time.  Here's what I saw on my stroll today...

Whitetail deer tracks follow in the footsteps of yesterdays people tracks back of the barn.  They're starting to make a real cow path of sorts as winter drags on.  I'm sure winter is more of a challenge for hungry deer than it is for us.

Snow was falling at a fast pace on my walk today so the tracks I photographed were freshly made.  I was not too far behind the wildlife I didn't see.

There were several sets of rabbit tracks near a brush pile along the deer trail.  Rabbits seem to come and go in cycles and this appears to be a good year for them. 

The next tracks I encountered were very fresh.  Although not a cause for concern in my mind, I did check the horizon from time to time to see if I was alone in the woods.

Not far down the trail from where I took the above photo, near the creek, I spotted fresh wolf scat. Hmmmm...  A couple of wolves had been zigzagging around following fresh deer tracks right here.  And they turned around like I did, instead of crossing the creek to head south.

Wolves don't scare me, nope they don't.  Not since cancer came my way.  Nope, they don't scare me a bit, although unfortunately a hunting dog was killed by a wolf just seven miles southwest of my home yesterday.

On my way back to the cabin I spotted this cool little trail in the snow.

Perhaps this was a fresh mouse trail...  I'm not sure.  But it wasn't nearly as exciting as the wolf tracks!

If we open up our eyes in the woods it is amazing how we can see what was there before us, all around us, and how we can step in the very same tracks others made not very long ago... if there is snow cover on the ground!

OUR RESIDENT THREE LEGGED DEER

My hubby took this pix this morning when the snow was lightly falling just west of our cabin.  A three legged deer is on the right, her sidekick is on the left.  They are nearly always together.

Last fall our yard had an abundance of red oak acorns falling on the ground like marbles.  It was one of those years when you had to be careful where you stepped for fear of sliding on your backside and careful where you stood when hanging clothes on the clothesline.  A plunk on top of the head by a falling acorn stings!

With so much acorn "candy" in our yard, we began seeing deer during daylight hours feeding close to our cabin.   But one deer stood out among the rest, a doe with a good portion of her front leg missing.  Her stub leg showed no sign of injury or infection and appeared to be fully healed over.  Another younger deer always stood by her side, a doe that was probably her fawn.  Did she loose her leg after being struck by a car?  Was her leg tangled in a fence? Did she have a narrow escape from a wolf attack?  We'll never know her story.

To this day our three legged deer keeps showing up in the yard and often beds down in tag alders near the house.  Every time we spot her, the doe fawn is nearby.  It seems as though the fawn has a mission to keep an eye on the older deer.  The young deer may well be helping the older one survive the winter.

Often at night we hear deer kicking away snow and crunchy leaves searching for buried acorns near our bedroom window.  We've woke up in the night several times hearing the deers scratching sounds.  Looking out our window in the moonlight we've seen the three legged deer with her buddy just a few feet away.  With one front leg missing, foraging through snow has to be difficult for her.  Maybe the fawn kicks away a little larger area of snow so the three legged deer can find acorns too, perhaps unknowingly, but one is definitely aiding the other. 

So far our three legged deer looks healthy and plump and she seems to have adapted fairly well to her handicap.  Running is difficult for her, but she throws herself forward at a pretty fast pace when she feels the need.  When I think of our zub-zero temps and lack of feed in harsh winters, it's a wonder that even healthy whitetail deer make it through.  Although this winter has been relatively mild so far, at least in January, this three legged deer is a true survivor.

Just checkin' to see if anybody's observant... here's a little track and treasure spotted on a walk the other day!

BIRCH TREE SEEDS ON THE SNOW

This past weekend we had our January thaw, an expected but not always given mid winter treat.  A January thaw gives you a chance to take a long walk outside and serves as a reminder that winter will not last forever.  Saturday on my walk I noticed hundreds of little seeds atop the snow underneath this birch tree. I love the patterns created on birch tree bark, this tree is no exception.

 

I've probably seen these little flecks atop the snow many times before, but today they caught my eye with their little tan and brown bird like shapes.  Brisk winds from the past couple of days more than likely caused them to scatter from the tree tops to the snow covered ground.

After kneeling down and looking at the little bird like shapes and wondering what they were all about, I took a few photos of them.  

The paper birch tree as shown above has seed pods called catkins that hang from the outer edges of it's branches.  The catkins, when mature, come apart, and fall to the ground.  They have a stem in the center with "separators" and seeds in between them that remind me of shish kabobs.

Each catkin can hold over a thousand birch tree seeds.  The separators are the bird shaped pieces and the seeds are round with what look like two wings attached to them.  Birch tree seeds fall off the trees from August all the way through the following winter months.  The seeds provide food for winter birds but most of all they just want to turn into little birch trees.

Next time you go for a winter walk with snow cover, look under a large birch tree and maybe you'll see the little bird shaped pieces and birch tree seeds scattered all around you on the ground.  I marvel at the little things in nature that can turn into big things like a beautiful paper birch tree.

WINTER SUNSETS AND MOURNING DOVES

It was another spectacular winter sunset at home last evening.  I've enjoyed several beautiful ones this winter as I look out over our pond where the sky starts out with a brilliant orange hue and turns pink as the sun disappears below the horizon.

This time of year my hubby puts an electric aerator in the pond to keep an area of water open.  When the snow covers the ice it cuts off the sunlight, causing plant material in the pond to die and begin to decompose.  This process robs oxygen from the water, taking it away from the fish, and will eventually cause "winter kill".  We have good success with the aerator, so generally not long after the New Year it starts to hum.

As soon as an opening of water appears, we begin to notice mourning doves as they fly in to quench their thirst each evening at dusk.  They arrive in groups of a dozen or more and land in the trees at the pond's edge.  A red pine tree is their favorite gathering place.  The doves seem to take turns, flying back and forth from their roosts in the trees to the open water, making beautiful twittering sounds all the while in flight.

 

My uncle called mourning doves "rain crows".  Their cooing sounds in warmer seasons is said to be a sign of rain in the near future.  The gentle sounds the doves make are always comforting to me.  They are very shy birds when they land on the pond and scatter quickly when we walk near them.  I'm amazed at how they can get close enough to drink without falling in!

CABIN FEVER

Here's a poem about the illness that affects most nature loving Wisconsinites this time of year...

 

Since it's much too cold to journal outdoors for my blog this week, I decided to dig up an old poem for you that I wrote last winter.  It fits my mood.  Everyone who lives in the north woods knows what cabin fever is.  It strikes you when winter gets so cold that you can't enjoy the outdoors the way you'd like to.  It comes along when you are fed up to the ying yang with those short days, long nights, and cold temps and you want to scream...  I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!

It's still early winter, so most cases of cabin fever are mild ones yet.  It was only 23° below zero this morning.  Wait til late February or early March and cases will become more prevalent.  In the most severe case, there is no cure, until one sees pussy willows.

CABIN FEVER

   

Wisconsin winters, firewood splinters
Christmas lights, starry nights

Smokey stoves, birchwood groves
Wood pile shrinking, outhouse stinking

Drippy nose, frozen toes
Chapped lips, frozen fingertips

Mittens and caps, afternoon naps
Frizzy hair, thermal underwear

Fogged up glasses, cold as molasses
Animal tracks, snowmen when it packs

Fishing on ice, shacks are nice
Skis on snow, go Pack go

Shorter days, lazier ways
Winter's long, like a boring song

Nobody's friend, when will it end
Cabin fever, love it or leave her

Keep your thoughts warm and cheery, put your headlamp on, 

and think about pussy willows.

SNOWFLAKES ARE SPECIAL

APPRECIATING THOSE LITTLE THINGS

 

I'm slacking today, writing my blog in the warmth of our cabin.  It's that time of year when you're beginning to settle into winter.  You know you can't deny it any longer, so you might just as well find something warm and wonderful about it.  We really don't have to look too hard to appreciate winter in Wisconsin if we give it a little effort.

A few days ago a dear friend, Dorothy, from Montana, sent me a really neat book, "The Snowflake, Winter's Secret Beauty", by Kenneth Libbrecht.  This book includes many awesome closeups of snowflakes taken by photographer, Patricia Rasmussen, in Wisconsin.  I'll give it 5 stars!  

I learned so much about how snowflakes are created and it's indeed true that no two flakes are alike, kind of like identical twins.  Although you might think they look just the same, if you check them out closely you'll be sure to find slight differences.

As I looked out the window this afternoon I noticed a few light snowflakes drifting to the ground.  This prompted me to head outdoors with my camera and try to capture a few amateur photos of snowflake crystals and/or freeze my fingers, just for fun.  I stood near dark surfaces flakes might land on and waited patiently... yes, I need more practice, but here are my best shots.

I also learned from Libbrecht's book that all snowflakes are hexagonal or six sided.  Rarely, when two flakes share a center, they may have twelve arms, but never four or eight.  Snowflakes are symmetrically perfect because as they grow larger, while passing through the atmosphere, each arm of the flake goes through the exact same conditions.

I am fascinated when I think of how the depth of snow on any surface is made up of millions of tiny snowflakes stacked on top of one another.  It's kind of like a sand dune made possible only by the piling up of billions of tiny grains of sand.

If you get a chance, hold out your mitten during a snowfall and really look hard at those tiny snowflakes as they land on it.  I know you've done this before when you were a kid, but just do it again!  Each snowflake you see will be unique to itself and each one will have six arms... unless it was broken on its amazing trip from the sky... to you! 

Thank you, Dorothy!

THE FIRST DAY OF WINTER

A FAVORITE MAPLE TREE OF MINE

I found a seat in an old maple tree by Tom's Creek late this afternoon where I can sit with my journal and celebrate the first day of winter.  It's 35 degrees, cloudy, foggy, and gray, and there's very little snow on the ground!  There will be no sunset for me to notice since the sun has been hiding under the clouds all day, like for most of December, it seems.

 

I appreciate this maple tree.  It's kind of like a family of five trees joined together at the base with each tree spreading out into the world on its own, except for one that's now broken with it's branches resting on the ground, sprawling toward the creek.

A slight mist fills the air and I can hear an occasional drop of rain hitting the earth beneath me or landing on the hood of my coat.  The creature world is silent.  Not even the sound of a blue jay, crow, or chickadee do I hear.  Perhaps the birds are busy at home getting ready for Christmas.

This maple tree reminds me of a family with one member gone, but the one that is gone lives on in the memory of those still standing tall.  Green lichen grows yet on the bark of the downed tree, chipmunks still scurry across its trunk, and it gives me a place to sit and ponder.  Same with our missing family members... although they are apart from us, we will forever remember, and forever be one.

As I dawdle back through the woods towards home, the daylight is nearly gone.  It's that time of day when every bit of brush turns into a deer, every clump of marsh grass turns into a tail, and oak leaves yet fastened to the treetops turn into birds flitting in the wind.  

When I arrive back at our cabin, my dawdling has paid off.  The light in the kitchen is on and the fish we're having for supper have all been cleaned.  Life is good!  

Merry Christmas to all my nature loving friends, and thanks for following my blog!