COVID19: Bird Photos by Jack - Scarlet Tanager

Scarlet Tanager (male)

Scarlet Tanager (female)

Sometime last month, Jack and I spotted a beautiful white-nosed fox squirrel at the farm, and since then, we've been on the lookout for him. He was quite striking and we'd both like to catch him with our cameras, but neither of us had one handy when we saw the squirrel.

Jack went by to check on things when Mom and Dad were in Franklin a couple of weeks ago, and while he didn't spot the lovely squirrel, he did capture these images of a pair of Scarlet Tanagers, who apparently nested in one of the cedar trees between the house and the graveyard at the end of the driveway. 

Jack loves getting great shots of birds, and these certainly are. Aren't they gorgeous?

Fuzz Update and Everybody's Birdwatching

For those of you keeping up with Fuzzy's recovery, I only have positive things to say. He's doing great - in some ways, he's actually better than he was before the saddle embolus. The underlying cause was a chronic heart problem, and he's now taking medication to treat that, which is likely the reason he feels good and is getting around so well these days.

He gets himself to and from the litter box with little to no assistance - he keeps a regular schedule, so we can pretty easily keep an eye on him and provide help when he needs it. He's learning to leave his paralyzed foot out of the box to keep it clean, and while he still isn't able to climb up to the food table where the rest of the cats eat, we're working on a couple of potential solutions for him.

Yesterday he did something he hasn't done in MONTHS - since long before his embolus - he went to the bedroom and took an afternoon sunbath in the middle of our bed. Maybe it's the arrival of Spring. Who knows? We're just glad to see him up and about and venturing from the end of the couch where he's spent the vast majority of the last six weeks as he's recovered.

Fuzzy has always enjoyed watching birds and squirrels through the windows, and since he's been laid-up, he's learned to appreciate watching them on Jack's kindle, because in nature, "birds to watch" don't happen on-demand.

To help with that during the daytime, though, Jack and I have added a couple of feeders to the deck, and I'm enjoying watching the birds as much as Fuzzy or any of the rest of the cats.

When we first hung them, our initial visitors were hungry and acrobatic squirrels who now have their own feeding station, because this had to stop --

This squirrel figured out how to raid the bird feeder within 30 minutes of its appearance on our deck.

Because of the beautiful display of birds we've attracted, I've found myself pulling out my camera almost every day. I'd gotten out of the habit of photographing much of anything over the winter, but this is a perfect opportunity to sharpen my skills and show off some of nature's beauty at the same time.

Male Goldfinch

Male House Finch

A Nuthatch doing his thing.

Female Cardinal

We Love Visitors: Pileated Woodpecker

For as long as I can remember, Pileated Woodpeckers have been regular visitors to our yard and the woods around us. Dead tree limbs and old stumps are some of their favorite feasting places, and we intentionally leave things like that in our landscape because they do attract so many interesting species of birds, insects, and fungi.

Spotting these beautiful creatures is a completely different ballgame than successfully photographing them, though. They're fast and nervous, ready to fly away at the slightest perceived threat, including noisy dogs, passing cars, and humans with cameras.

Last year, Jack managed to snap some great shots of one during an ice storm.

A few days ago, I got the photo at the top of this post from the shelter of the house - not bad for a shot through our dirty sliding glass door, I think.

Read about Pileated Woodpeckers at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology:

All About Birds

I don't even know how to catch-y'all-up since the last blog post.

Let's start with the weather --

Here in the midstate, we've had a couple of apocalyptic ice-storms, about a hundred missed days of school, and more confusion about climate change than can fit into a standard root cellar. The end is near or not, depending on whether you see the glass as half full or half empty and a bunch of other stuff. 

So, here we are -- 

February has passed and a handful of days into March, we're told to prepare for more bad weather, and I'm tired of it. Everybody's tired of it. 

Three years have passed without anything significantly wintry happening, but in the course of two weeks, entire communities on the Cumberland Plateau have been devastated by ice storms and history-making winter. 

My eloquent friend, Larry, described nearby Monterey as "an icy hellscape," and based on the photos I've seen from that area, he's on the bullseye.

Albeit inconvenient, the ice storm provided some remarkable opportunities, not the least of which is this photo Jack shot of a pileated woodpecker, feasting on frosty dogwood berries in the neighbor's front yard.

Yeah, that's a Christmas card.

Saturday Evening Post

There's a night club a half a mile away from us now, and I'm not making that up, either. It's an open-air, warm-weather deal at the marina down the hill from us, and this being a holiday weekend with near-perfect weather and a big ol' full moon in the sky, the joint is rockin'. Jack and Pam at the Lake can play name that tune from our front porch and occasionally make out what's being said on the stage.

"Give it up for Memorial Day, y'all. HOLLER!!!!" The crowd roars... 

No shit. 

The dogs hate being on house arrest for the weekend, but there's too much traffic for us to let them do their nightly romps. Moose did get to visit with some friends of his this morning - they actually stopped-by yesterday afternoon to invite him for breakfast when they were on their way "in" for the weekend.

Speaking of Moose... Tuesday will mark the year anniversary of his disappearance/dog-napping. Every day when he climbs up onto the couch and puts his head in my lap for his daily dose of "Pam time", I can't help but remember how scared Jack and I were that we'd never see him again. He's SUCH a sweet thing... 

Mom and Dad celebrated their 49th wedding anniversary on Wednesday, so when you see them out and about, give'em some love and tell'em how cute they are. And mark your calendars now - there's going to be a PARTY next year.

In other news, Jack and I did a really fun photo shoot in Brentwood last weekend, and while we were there, we got to see a really cool thing - a fledgling Indigo Bunting flop down from his nest and take his first flight. Even though we live out here in the sticks, surrounded by birds, we got better bird photos in a backyard on the outskirts of Nashville than we've ever captured here.

Here's the little thing when we first saw him. Check out the "Angry Bird" expression on his face.

He was on the rocks near a koi pond - Jack sneaked around behind the little bird and got this great shot with the reflection of the sky in the water below.

These are the koi. They started out being WalMart goldfish.

The young'uns finally had enough of watching that darned bird... He safely escaped to trees outside the yard. Good luck, sweet birdie!!

A gorgeous male Redheaded Woodpecker.

Harbingers of Spring

Spring is upon us, and Jack and Pam at the Lake couldn't be happier.

We had snow over the weekend - another one of those Middle Tennessee blizzards... Fifteen hours of steady snowfall, but none of it stuck to anything. We ended up with three slick spots on the deck, which is barely enough for the dogs to play "acorn hockey" or whatever the heck they call that thing where they all slide around, barking and growling with each other, chasing an acorn until it falls over the edge. Seriously, sometimes it's the little things...

Our crocus and buttercups are in full bloom, which is a definite sign that we're in for sunnier days...

And a couple of weeks ago, Jack and I got to once again witness the northern migration of Sandhill Cranes, which is a delightful and interesting spectacle. We happened to be in the yard, heard a racket and recognized it from past years, and grabbed our cameras. Jack took these wonderful photos...

They start as a disorganized group, flying in different directions chaotically before organizing into a V-shaped migration formation...

No, we don't watch "Downton Abbey".

I see this horse every time I drive to town. Today I took his photo.

First of all, congratulations, Jack! Yesterday he was crowned by his dentist and now has a permanent replacement for the tooth he broke while eating ribs during our Valentine's Day celebration last year. Eleven months and thousands of dollars later, we celebrate by chewing carefully and trusting no take-out.

Josie.

And there's a new dog in the house. We call her Josie, and God help us, she ain't nothing but a hound dog. Forgive me for the corny joke, but today is Elvis' birthday, and I couldn't help myself.

I found her running down the road last month, dragging half of a string of Christmas lights, which had been tied to her collar. After seeing her almost get hit by two different vehicles, I pulled my car over and called her over. She jumped into the car and passed out in the back seat.

Since neither Jack nor I were too keen on adopting another dog into our crew, I contacted a local rescue about finding her a new place to live, but "long story short", the rescue is over-burdened, we've found this beagle to be a good fit for the family, and she's evolved from being "puppy-girl" to "Josie".

She's been fixed but has no micro-chip, and while she's likely "someone's dog", who ties up a dog with Christmas lights? I posted her photo on facebook, but the only inquiry we received was dubious, and the caller became disinterested when he found out the dog was spayed.

The other dogs have adjusted to having a new pup in the house and she's good with the cats...

The elusive Pileated Woodpecker re-appeared in the neighbor's oak tree this past week.

Winter sunset.

In other news, we still have daylight in the sky at 5:00 p.m. -- spring is coming.

The squirrels seem to know when the dogs are sleeping... 

-- soft landing... 

The Perils of Shallow Water

A Green Heron fishing for his lunch.

Right now at this moment one of the biggest music festival events in the US is happening just a few miles down the road from Jack and Pam at the Lake.

Bonnaroo, which means "a really good time" in the slang of New Orleans' Ninth Ward, started in 2002 as a jam music festival in Manchester, Tennessee and has grown into a premiere destination for lovers of all things cool and lyrical over the last decade.

While we have never been, we appreciate that it's totally fun time for those who go. We understand the photo opportunities presented and would love to crawl the grounds with our cameras, filling our memory cards with the beautiful weirdness of Bonnaroo, but we've seen aerial photos of the parking situation, and the older we both get, the less we suffer things like crowds, heat, peeing in portable toilets and paying six dollars a bottle for the same beer that cost $12.99 for a twelve pack on sale earlier this week at the Kroger near the Baby House in Franklin. Cheers.

And there's a live-stream of the best acts, so at this moment, Jack and I are kicked back in the air conditioning on the couch, drinking Heineken we bought for cheap; our car is parked in the driveway, and we're watching the only band in the festival line-up I gave a hoot about live on the internet for free. The show is wrapping up, and we don't even have to drive home.

Viva le Red Hot Chili Peppers! Vive Bonnaroo!!

Yesterday Jack and I took another kayak trip down the Barren Fork from downtown McMinnville to the ramp at VFW Post 5064 for our own version of "a really good time".  This is the same route we took a couple of weeks ago and was a mostly enjoyable journey that provided for some neat bird-watching and a bit of personal growth.

A young hawk dries his wings in the sun.

As I've written before, water has always been "one of those things"...

Mom doesn't swim a lick. Dad is allegedly a good swimmer, but in my forty-seven years on this planet and all the hours I've spent with him and our family on Center Hill Lake, I've never once seen him swim. As a second-grader I was hauled to Red Cross swimming lessons at the city pool in Smithville, where I was an abject failure and barely earned a certificate of participation. Between the stories Mom told about a childhood friend of hers who died in a flood and getting fished out of the Chesapeake Bay as a five-year-old, a tale that grew over the years with each telling by relatives, the fear of getting my face wet was pretty-well ingrained in my young mind by the time the Red Cross tried to teach my chubby, fearful ass to swim.

I've always loved Center Hill Lake, fishing and boat rides. Over the years and despite my fears, I've jumped in, hung on, fell off, splashed around, gone under and come up again. I've swallowed sheer terror with skis strapped to my feet behind a boat and pure joy when I realized I could jump off the back of a friend's pontoon boat and not drown.

Jack is a swimmer. His mother taught those Red Cross swimming lessons I dreaded so to countless kids and grown-ups over the years. He and his brother and sisters grew up swimming alongside their parents in the river near their camp at Rock Island. The last time Jack and I visited his parents in Florida not that many years ago, his parents were still swimming laps in their pool.

After we met, Jack was quick to figure out that I was totally faking my level of comfort when it came to the water, and for the first time ever I came to terms with my fears and desires. I learned to swim. I learned to fall out of  boat and laugh about it. I learned to ride a tube and truly enjoy a big, bouncy boat wake.

Getting the kayaks last year was amazing. I'd been canoeing in a tiny lake at 4-H camp as a middle-schooler, but that was it. Kayaking looked like fun, and Jackson Kayak was starting to really be a presence in this area, so I was totally hip to the idea when Jack said, "Let's do it. Let's get kayaks."

Those of you who keep up with Jack and Pam at the Lake know that we've made all kinds of journeys in those kayaks and seen everything from bald eagles and snakes to sunsets, rainbows, herons and dragonflies.

A brilliant green dragonfly catches a ride on a leaf drifting downstream.

Two weeks ago when we hit the Barren Fork for the first time in the kayaks. I'd never experienced anything resembling rapids before or rattled across shoals in a few inches of water, hoping to have enough momentum to reach water deep enough to float. I had a ball. We had a ball.

Yesterday was different.

The river was down a good six inches, and while to my rookie mindset, "little water" might seem like a good thing, in reality, it isn't. Water that was thick and smooth on our last trip was now bare with rocky teeth ready to grab our boats. The riff under Beersheba Bridge was my first snag, though I did manage to get myself free from it without leaving the boat or taking on more water than I could sop out of the floor with my sponge.

The next snag wasn't so easy --

Jack crashed through with no problem, but I found myself hung between two big rocks with water rushing all around my kayak. I tried to pop myself out with my paddle, but I was clearly stuck, and the more I tried to free myself, the more water rushed into my boat. I tipped hard to the right, and my sippy cup of iced latte went flying into the current.

After the snag at Beersheba Bridge, Jack had told me that there's no shame in climbing out and "walking through" any rough, shallow spots, so after realizing that I was completely trapped, sideways and taking on water, I slung myself out of my boat into the rush of the current.

A Green Heron ruffles his feathers in preparation to take flight.

Thinking the worst was over at Beersheba, I'd stripped off my shoes and PFD, stowing them behind my seat and readying myself for a smooth "rest of the ride". Now I stood knee-deep in a rapid with water rushing around and through my white, hairy legs as I pulled on my life vest and found enough peace and calm within myself to put on my shoes, balancing first on one leg and then the other without letting either foot slip into the deep cracks between the large, slippery rocks or allowing my kayak to tip over.

This wildflower is known as Lizard's Tail or Water Dragon.

Jack realized my problem and after hitting smooth water below the riff, climbed out of his boat and back up the rapid to where I was stranded. In addition to moral support, he steadied my boat while I climbed back in and provided words of encouragement as I baled probably fifteen gallons of water out of the floorboard of my kayak once I'd made it through the rough stuff.

The water in my boat was, no shit, ankle deep. My camera box floated in the floor of the kayak. The bag with our picnic lunch didn't, but nobody complained about wet bread or a banged-up avocado when it came time to eat lunch. And I found my sippy cup a couple of miles downstream from where I lost it, and my iced coffee actually still had ice!

A look from downstream at one of the gravelly areas we had to cross. The water underneath us here is only about 12 inches deep, which is plenty. The water over the gravel is about 6 inches, which isn't.

Luckily, we encountered enough interesting bird life, such as the spectacular herons we saw along the way, and scenery to make the trip worth the effort, but we won't be doing "the river" again until after the next big rain or two, which will hopefully fall in the next few days. The waterways and the land are thirsty for it. All along the river, we saw vegetation struggling to stay green and encountered several more spots with so little water in the flow that we scraped bottom passing through. Throughout the rest of the route, Jack and I both got "hung up" in low water and had to dislodge ourselves by putting a foot out or using our paddles to push our boats into water deep enough to float us, and we're both sore from having gotten a good workout on the river.

A Louisiana Waterthrush checks its reflection in the water.

As for me, the clammy feeling of being wet-to-the-skin was resolved later with a hot shower, and despite the perils of shallow water, the day and the trip and the time spent together was our very own Bonnaroo.

A Great Blue Heron stood sentinel over the last few hundred yards of our trip. 

Snake Day on Sink Creek

Greetings and happy weekend, blog readers!

I am happy to report that Jack and Pam at the Lake have actually spent some time on the lake this week.

Our first trip was a short one - 3 miles round trip - from the base of Potts Camp Road, which is really near the house here, as far up Cedar Creek as we could go. We spotted herons, geese and a couple of families of ducks, but I was so busy soaking in every moment that I barely took my camera out of its case.

The second trip was longer and more involved. We paddled from Pates Ford Marina upstream as far as Sink Creek would take us, stopping on the way back for a creek-side picnic of ham sandwiches and potato chips. We had a marvelous time and enjoyed the whole adventure. This is the same trek we've paddled before and seen American Bald Eagles, but we didn't spot any today.

We didn't spot much of anything today. Except snakes.

At several points during the trip, either Jack or I would spot a tiny head sticking up just above the water, checking us out as we slid by...

This one was sunning on a warm rock and appeared to have just eaten lunch, given the significant bulge in its mid-section.

As we approached the cooler water upstream, there were several more to be spotted moving along the bank-line and hanging out in sunny shallow spots.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no fan of snakes at all, but when I see them before they see me and I have a chance to get in the right mind-set to encounter them, I'm OK with it. And when I'm in the kayak and the snake is in the water, it's totally cool. There's no possible way for one to get in the boat with me, so I feel comfortable getting closer than I do when I'm on foot.

A really good zoom lens helps, too.

Today was a beautiful day, and if the sunny weather is any indication of what 2012 has in store for us, we have nothing to worry about. Yes, there was something of a chilly wind blowing around to remind us that we're into January, but Jack and I were able to get out and walk around with our cameras wearing short pants and fleecy jackets. Very nice.

Jack had his big lens on and was on the prowl for whatever birds got into shooting range. This is a great time of year to photograph birds with very little foliage to have to work around, but our birds are shy and fast and do not seem to appreciate being photographed. 

I still managed to snap a few nice bird shots - 

This Common Sparrow did sit still long enough to pose for a shot.

And the Tufted Titmouse sang overhead...

The half-moon is lovely in the sky.

This plane was headed south in a hurry. With colder weather coming this week, I don't blame anyone who wants to migrate in warmer climates.

Wishing you peace, love, understanding and wisdom in the coming year.