A FEW WILDFLOWERS AT PPW

Jack-in-the-Pulpit

Trillium

Pink Lady's Slipper

Wild Comfrey

Hoary Puccoon

Wild Geranium

Columbine and Rock Cress growing on Dolomite Rock

Bluets in the Prairie

American Columbo
Can grow up to 25 years before blooming once and dying

I TOOK A WALK TODAY...

...THEN PRACTICED THE ART OF SITTING IN ONE PLACE!

On the way up to my favorite ridge for morning birding, I caught a glimpse of movement high in a tree and fairly far away. Usually I don't bother when something is that far off in the distance, but I had gotten a late start, so I wasn't going to be choosy. I'm glad I looked, because I faintly made out a male and female Rose-breasted Grosbeak. Two days before she had visited the feeder, and he, just yesterday, when I snapped a few photos of the handsome and colorful dude.

Also, on the way up, I heard a Yellow-billed Cuckoo (yes we have this exotically named bird), a Red-eyed Vireo, Hooded Warblers, Ovenbirds, Wood Thrushes and a Wild Turkey. By 9:30 most of the action had ceased, but I decided that maybe I should just sit for another half-hour. Maybe with all the chatter and fluttering over, something singularly interesting might happen...and it did. Sitting on the same spongy log I perched on last year...when two fawns sauntered by and we exchanged glances...two yearlings walked by again. Did I have my camera? No. But the scene replayed itself. They stopped, looked at me (or towards me), browsed some vegetation and moved on down the well-worn path. I could have stood up, walked three steps, and petted them.

What I love about nature is its rhythms and predictability...and also the occasional unpredictable anomaly. While I'm not overly sentimental about deer (i.e., hunting them), any face to face with a wild creature does stir the heart and soul. But this encounter, while rare, is not all that strange. Like most animals, deer have certain territories and ways of getting around those territories for resources and refuge. So if I went up to the ridge every week and sat on my cushy log, odds are I would encounter the same two deer on a regular basis.

I've already been fantasizing about putting a camouflaged swivel chair up there to take in all 360 degrees of bird songs and sightings...so those deer and I may become well acquainted by the end of summer.

WHAT A WEEKEND FOR WILDTHINGS!!

When I arrived at Prairie Pond Woods on Thursday morning, I walked the Refresher Course and heard or saw the usual, over-wintering suspects, plus some recent, mid-April visitors...Tree Swallow (in pic), Brown Thrasher, Ruby Crowned Kinglet and Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher. I even noticed an Eastern Bluebird pair darting in and out of an old nesting box (Evidently, we put the new ones up too late or they just don't like the decor).

Then, during the night, late summer arrived on a very warm front up from the south. We went from 60's to 80's overnight. But what also arrived Friday morning, no doubt helped by that warm wind at their backs, were about 9 species of neo-tropical birds! I made note of Blue-winged, Prairie, Hooded and Black & Whitle warblers, and spotted several Ovenbirds in the woods, along with the ever-lovely Scarlet Tanager and Indigo Bunting. Then I topped it all off hearing the unique songs of the Wood Thrush, White-eyed Vireo and Yellow-breasted Chat! As I was leaving on Sun, I'm pretty sure I heard a Common Yellow-throat, too.

It made me happy that these migrants had a good tail wind on at least part of their return from South or Central America to my own little plot of land just a few miles, "as the warbler flies," from the Ohio River. I'm filled with awe that they arrive just when the caterpillars and other insects emerge from various egg casings and other winter confinements.

We should all be filled with gratitude for the way they help balance the bug population! The week before, just after dawn and an overnight rain, I took a walk in the woods. Scattered all over the forest floor were thousands of white spider webs showing up against the rain-darkened leaf litter.

The picture just doesn't do it justice because they were in every direction and far as I could see. Now that's a smorgasbord just waiting for Ovenbirds, Towhees and the Wood Trush!

Next Post: All the Wildflowers seen, smelled, touched and enjoyed!!!

WHAT'S HAPPENING THIS SPRING EQUINOX

At the end of February, we finally got the bluebird boxes up that several "friends of Prairie Pond Woods" helped decorate. Their artwork will forever be on display. Last weekend, Craig said he saw a male and female bluebird near the two new boxes adorning the garden fence. After getting the binoculars, he concluded that it was the male flying back and forth between them, whille the female sat on a wire and looked on.

For several weeks now, the woodcocks have been flying overhead at dusk, moving from one field to another and calling their nasaly "peent" to attract a mate. Only once have I seen them in the daylight, after I practically stepped on one; its well-blended plumage hiding it in the dry, tan grass and brown leaf litter.

While taking a walk, Craig and I scared up a pair of Wood Ducks, no doubt the ones we saw on our pond last year. They flew through the woods, maneuvering around tree trunks and branches, and were out of sight within seconds. This is so strange to witness because it is more common to see ducks flying straight across open skies for long distances. But Wood Ducks not only possess uncommon beauty, they are uncommon in their nesting behavior, choosing to raise broods in tree cavities near water.

As of this writing the daffodils are up and many are blooming. The lilac bushes are leafing out. The birds are ramping up the volumes and frequency of their songs. It is a great time of anticipation!

I TOOK A WALK YESTERDAY...

For over an hour I tromped through the 9 inches of snow and ice that had fallen 3 days earlier and knocked out both power and phone service to all of Adams county. When we arrived at Prairie Pond Woods to remedy a potentially frozen water pump and pipes, it was overcast and the land grayed out. But today, after the blue sky welcomed the sun back to its arcing route, the landscaped gleamed glorious!


Every tree and exposed vegetation not buried by snow was encapsulated by frozen rain. The woods glistened white and brittle, except where the damp, darkened bark contrasted almost black against the mounds of snow heaped on their branches. The prairie looked like acres of cotton balls, where thick crusts of white covered mounds of big bluestem and Indian grass. In every direction I looked, almost constant white, with bursts of prismatic color nearly too intense for my eyes. It was magical!

I took more than 200 hundred photos over two days, and grieved that, for my skill level anyway, it was impossible to truly capture the magic of each vista. In my heart of hearts, I also wanted badly to share this beauty, but the lack of electric power (no water) and no phone (not even cell towers were functioning), prevented me from inviting anyone to come and see it.

After I could not think of any angle or place where I had not taken a picture, I returned to the house, and we continued on with the business of “surviving” the ordeal that began the evening we arrived in the dark…and I mean…DARK. It was spooky.

Craig mentioned on the drive down that he planned to string a 50-foot extension cord, and then some, to the water pump down the slope behind the house so the lights in the housing unit would keep the pump from freezing.

“Really?” I asked, rather disbelieving. “And where are you going to get that many extension cords?”
“I’m going to make one…a 100-foot one when we get there…from the romex I bought at that garage sale…and then I’ve got all these other ones,” he said pointing to the back seat. There behind us laid a huge pile of neatly wound red, yellow, green, brown and off-white colored extension cords.
“Okay, whatever you say.” I said with pure resignation. I love my wanted–to-be-a-Boy Scout husband and his “can do” attitude.

So when we arrived, as if on a mission from God, he fastened male and female ends to the off-white cord by the beam of the truck headlights. We threaded it through the garage window and uncoiled it down the slope with our headlamps on and our fingers crossed. We really wanted this to work, especially since the next night’s temperature was dropping to 7 degrees. After several trips back to the garage (9 inches of hardened snow is difficult to walk in) for electrical tape, adaptors and walkie-talkies, that mission was finally accomplished. But we still had to address our relative safety and comfort in the house. Not to worry, my hubby had a plan.

Again, with the dedication of a first responder, he strung five extension cords upstairs, which all flowed from one large cord coming from the garage across the basement and up the stairs. These would power the wood burner fan, the fridge, the freezer and a couple lamps. The long cord traversing the backyard met up with the cord coming from basement and they both went underneath the garage door straight to a $13,000 generator we call the Roadtrek Van! It all worked flawlessly.

So, I write this from a battery-powered computer, near a bright window with a deck-full of snow reflecting in. The very element that took away my light now helps me see, and for that I am grateful. It is a good thing to be reminded of how fragile we are, how dependent we’ve become on modern conveniences, and how wonderful it is to experience the reward of resourcefulness. Each time we thought of some new, efficient way to do something, or figured out the best sequence of actions, we would high-five one another for being so darn capable!

After days of scooping buckets upon buckets of snow to melt by the fire for flushing, we turned our aluminum garbage can into a receptacle that will capture the snow melting off the roof soon. We went to bed before 10:00 every night and got up at 7:00, in synch with the daylight and our own tired bodies. 
After 5 days without a shower or bath, I boiled some roof water and took a sponge bath on the freezing side porch, while gazing out at the hills quickly losing their diamond-like adornment. It made me happy and content, this small act of self-care that needed only snow, flame and a thick towel. I felt like a wild woman. And, after standing there with the wind chilling my damp body, I decided I am a Wild Woman, and went inside to stoke the fire.



TO SEE MORE PHOTOS OF PRAIRIE POND WOODS BEDAZZLED BY WINTER, CLICK HERE.