Leaving Lightfoot Bay

Picture complements of the International Crane Foundation
http://www.savingcranes.org/species-field-guide.html

Final Report from Lightfoot Bay

Sunday - This is the last night at Lightfoot Bay and tonight’s entertainment is spectacular. I had heard about the Sandhill Crane dance but had never seen it in person. Across the bay three cranes dance in a circle, jumping up and down, wings flapping. They danced around each other for five minutes then returned to eating in the reeds. Being large birds, they could be easily watched through my binoculars. Three years ago I encountered these birds for the first time, on my way home from Neebish Island. I was immediately struck by their size and appearance.  Later that fall I made a trip to a Jackson area wetland in search of sandhill cranes making their fall migration. 

Sandhill cranes are not your typical bird. Long legs and necks, they stand 3-4 feet tall with wingspans extending 6-7 feet wide. Sandhill cranes are a member of the Gruidae bird family and one of only three species of cranes in North America (the other two are the Common also known as Gray Crane and Whooping Crane ).

One of the oldest bird species crane fossils have been found dating back 40-60 million years ago. Despite their ancient history present day world crane populations have been declining, victims of overhunting and loss of habitat. The IUCN (International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources) list four crane species as either endangered (Grey-crowned Cranes, Whooping Cranes, Red-crowned Cranes) or critically endangered (Siberian Cranes).  

Citation:

IUCN 2012. IUCN Red List of Threatened Species. Version 2012.1. <www.iucnredlist.org>. Downloaded on 31 August 2012.

What I saw on Sunday evening is known as a courting ritual. The dance was a picture of unrestrained joy and to be witness to such a sight was a privilege. I couldn’t have asked for a better going away gift.

Postscript: been trying to find a good video of the dance.  This is one of the better videos, thanks birdfreak.com:

http://birdfreak.com/video-wednesday-sandhill-crane-dance/

Footprints

Friday night at Lightfoot Bay....

Bob wanted to see the sunset on the beach so we walked down to the shore just before 8 o’clock. I went reluctantly; tired from the day’s activity, I would have preferred to read my book and go to bed early. But he was persistent that I come, so I put on my boots and joined him on the trail.

The beach was empty of life. As I’m not much of a landscape photographer, I set about looking at the dune grass and drift wood while Bob took pictures.  It wasn’t long when I came across tracks in the wet sand. Without my track book, I couldn’t readily identify who was the owner of each footprint. My original guess was a waterfowl of some sort, likely seagulls or ducks. The tracks circled around, back and forth like the bird or birds weren’t certain what direction to go.

I came across deer hoof prints, deep and distinctive.  By the distance between the tracks and the deepness of the print, I could assume that the deer was running along the shoreline. My imagination ran amok, picturing a graceful deer bounding across the sand enjoying the last remnants of summer.

We ignore the fact that we are not nature’s only inhabitant. We claim this tree or that ground or the water around us as ours. But wildlife has no concept of boundaries or ownership rights as we know it. For them all that matters is that the tree, the ground and the water fulfills its basic needs. They share their environment with other species, often in mutual cooperation, sometimes in competition.  In the world of nature survival is dependent upon the shared and prudent use of resources. Overconsumption of food and shelter will create an imbalance as one animal population increases to the detriment of another. In time, the overpopulated species cannot sustain its numbers and will eventually decline.

Too often we forget this fact when we try to claim more than what we need.  Whenever we hold on to something too tightly, it eventually slips out of our fingers and it is lost to the world. Perhaps a better method would be to let go of control and accumulate only what is needed. Then we too can frolic alongside the deer and the seagulls in the sunshine of life.

A Face Only a Mother Could Love??

More from my weekend at Lightfoot Bay.....

On my morning walk, I saw a small garter snake lounging in a sun spot aside the trail. She was stretched out in a C shape, head raised off the ground. Having the camera with me I took several pictures of her, all the while keeping my distance.

I have a love/hate relationship with snakes or being completely honest, I am frightened of them. I avoid pictures of them in books, flipping the pages quickly as if the snake could jump off the page and on to my lap. I always wear shoes when walking outside, just in case. It is irrational I know, considering my actual face to face encounters with snakes are few. I can count on two hands the number of times I have seen snakes in person.

But I must admit I am fascinated with the garter snake. Perhaps it is due to its petite size and pretty yellow/black striped body. It doesn’t have a ferocious look about it that you see with the hognose snake we have here in Michigan. In fact, up close their face has a gentle, quiet demeanor.

  

That said I still have no interest in getting closer or even handling that snake, taking the “I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me” position with them. Snakes play an essential role in the environment by controlling the rodent population.  But for me, the snake will remain best observed from a distance.

Healing

My parents told me of an incident that happened recently at their home. One day they spotted a young raccoon in their yard sitting under the bird feeder. The raccoon appeared to have an injured back leg and had found safety in the pet-free, fenced in yard. Over the course of the next few days, the raccoon, now named Chippewa, returned to the feeder in search of food. It became apparent that the youngster needed help, so my Father located a wildlife rehabilitator who promptly came to the house with a live trap and bait food. A short time after setting the trap, Chippewa entered the cage and the rehabilitator brought the raccoon to her facility. She assured my Dad that she would do what she could to care for the animal.

For six years I had a wildlife rehabilitation permit. Hearing Dad's story brought back memories of all the telephone calls I received from concerned people who had found injured and orphaned wildlife. My specialty was squirrels: gray squirrels, red squirrels and flying squirrels. Most were orphans with an occasional call for an injured adult.

The demands of caretaking injured and orphaned wildlife can be intense. You need to know the species' natural history, its nutritional demands, feeding schedule, weaning timetable. The youngest of wildlife often do not know how to eliminate, so you have to assist them and know what to do if diarrhea occurs. Most newly arrived wildlife are also infested with fleas and other parasites, so a safe method to treat the animal is needed as well as a means to avoid getting infested yourself.

Despite all your best efforts, there are times when the animal will die. It is heartrending to hold that small being in your hands watching it take its last breath. Even worst are those animals that no amount of care will ever prepare them for release, leaving no option but to make that one way trip to the veterinarian.

In situations like these, I had to remind myself that many times animals are abandoned for a good reason. They may be the runt of the litter with unseen disabilities or excess babies born that the mother cannot adequately nurse. That doesn't make their death any easier but does provide a rationale for dealing with the realities of nature.

As for Chippewa, the rehabilitator offered hope. Had the raccoon's front leg been the one injured, euthanasia was certain. It was obvious that the young raccoon had a will to live. Let's pray that Chippewa's inner strength combined with the rehabilitator's skill and care will allow Chippewa to live a long life.

The Year of the Insect

It seems like my world has revolved around insects this year. Contending with a carryover of a very bad summer flea infestation on my cats, I began 2012 waging war against those persistent little monsters. Multiple treatments of Advantage over many months finally freed my house and my long suffering cats from the fleas' grip.

Spring brought the arrival of large black ants who took up residence in my kitchen. Again, treatments were applied to the perimeter of the house and they too, eventually moved to better accommodations. I later found out that sprinkling cornmeal around the house where the ants are found is a nontoxic ant repellant. Cornmeal is a much safer alternative especially for my felines who often chase and sometimes eat whatever is crawling on the floor.

With summer's heat came the mosquitoes, wasps and assortment of other biting insects. I am a walking skeeter restaurant with my exposed arms and legs covered with large red bites. Deep Woods Off Dry soon became my perfume of choice.

But repellants are no gurantee against the painful sting I received in July. I watched as the bite on my elbow swelled and a large red ring formed around the bite. Antihistamines, topical and oral, now were part of my daily routine. I was fortunate to have my camera handy and took a picture of the nasty, but very unusual, little fellow. I sent the photo to a friend who has a Masters degree in Entomology (the study of insects) who told me it was an Assassin Bug. Lucky me.

All told, my encounters this year have made me think more about insects than I have ever done before. I find myself seeking them out, looking for unusual shapes, colors and behaviors. Unlike most animals, identifying insects are more difficult. I have read that there are more than 900,000 different species of insects around the world. Insects are essential in the cycle of nature: from the pollination of plants, as a food source for birds, bats and other animals, decomposer of plant and animal remains and unfortunately, disease transmission. Maybe it is time to give them alittle more respect.

Reality Television

I just returned from a long weekend at Lightfoot Bay, a nature area located north of L'Anse in the Upper Peninsula. The following post was written this past Saturday.

Saturday Afternoon. I’m sitting on the porch swing looking out at the small bay named Lightfoot. Birds have been passing by in front of the porch: hummingbirds, seagulls, crows and eagles. I didn’t expect this much activity in the middle of the afternoon. The air is hot and the day would be uncomfortable except for the breeze that rustles the leaves.

We arrived Friday afternoon to this place in the western Upper Peninsula. The house, a restored hunting cabin will be our home for the weekend. It is quiet here. A dirt road leads to the house and the property is large enough to not see or hear the neighbors.

Eagles of all ages have been entertaining us since our arrival. They sit quietly in the trees and on the old dock in the water; their bodies still only their heads moving back and forth.  The younger eagles are difficult to see with their brown mottled feathers blending in with the vegetation. The adults are much easier to find but are fewer in number.

Occasionally we spot one, two and, one time, three eagles soaring overhead. With the stifling heat driving small game and fish into cool hiding places, it is unlikely they are hunting. So I choose to believe they are flying for the pleasure of it. Well, at least for my pleasure. The birds glide up and down, wings extended, carried by the air currents. Attempts to photograph them in flights prove fruitless; they are simply too fast.

Instead I sit here on my swing, enjoying this afternoon of writing and awaiting their next appearance. This is reality television at its best.

One Year Anniversary

My last day of employment was one year ago today. I had accepted a position with a start up environmental organization after four years with a professionally rewarding but very stressful company. I came into that start up with such enthusiasm for I had finally landed a job where I could play a role in preserving our natural habitats. As with many new organizations, enthusiasm doesn't always result in financial sustainability and within a year, I found myself unemployed.

But this isn't a tale of regret for making a questionable career move. Within a week after my final day, I found myself back in college taking an ecology class. For the first time since completing my bachelor's degree years ago, I threw myself into my course work: writing papers, conducting lab experiments, studying for tests and going on field trips. I made friends with a bright young woman who knowledge of biology just astounded me. She became my lab partner and in her, I found someone with the same drive for knowledge that I had.

During that semester, I volunteered with the local conservation district, surveying and removing invasive plant species. The hours spent there gave me the opportunity to attend my first stewardship conference where I was immersed with people who committed their lives to protecting the environment. I learned about watersheds and wild rice restoration projects, nature photography and new conservation initiatives. For the first time in years, I was excited to go to a conference rather than going because I needed the continuing education credits.

I took out my camera for the first time in ages and started to learn all its features. I took day trips to photograph the wildflowers that had come into bloom. My wildlife books that had sat unopened for months were now used daily. Attending to my backyard feeders brought a variety of new bird species that I had not seen before. I became fascinated with the exotic world of insects and mushrooms.

What I have found is that sometimes you need to experience loss in order to find your way. It hasn't been an easy year for I have often found myself disconnected from the world I once lived in. But by losing my job, I had the time to develop my photography skills that allows me to document my time outdoors for others to see. I've replaced tedious conferences on tax planning with webinars on water quality and wildlife care so that I can make better decisions that impact the world around me. And that love of the out-of-doors, formerly an once-a-year vacation experience is now part of my daily routine. So, on those not so great days when regret rears its head, I can remind myself of all the great experiences that I would have missed had I not chosen to take that job.

That Rollercoaster Called Life

I had been wanting a 300 mm telephoto lens for sometime now. The telephoto lens I had was good for most animals, but the photographing of birds and small animals required me to be physically closer than my subjects were willing to tolerate. So when the decision was made to purchase the new lens in time for an upcoming trip, I was excited.

Early Friday evening the package arrived. Foregoing the six o'clock news, I opened the box and pulled out the lens. I grabbed my camera, mounted the new lens and headed outside. What a glorious experience to lock into an animal from a distance and capture a sharp image. All day Saturday was devoted to wandering around the yard, photographing flowers, mushrooms, the cats and birds. As I downloaded the photos to my computer and saw the crispness of the images, I was in heaven.

After dinner, I took the camera out again in anticipation of the evening arrival of the rabbits and deer. Camera perched on my tripod, I pulled off the lens cap and turned on the camera. Nothing. The LCD screen was black, no image to be seen. I tested the other lens I had, still black. Determined to figure out what button I pushed inadvertently, I pulled out my manual, scoured the Olympus website and Googled troubleshooting sites. Nothing.

The excitement of having this new lens suddenly soured. My anticipated photography trip, planned for the last six months would now have to be enjoyed without my camera. My destination is a quiet, beautiful cabin  near Lake Superior. The land is filled with large white pines guarded by eagles, a photographer's dream. But it would be wrong of me to use the breakdown of my camera to ruin an otherwise wonderful visit. Instead of fretting about composition, f-stops and shutter speeds, I can revel in the glory that is this place. Maybe this was life's way of reminding me to not always fill my time with doing, but spend time being.



Rabbit on Friday Evening



It is all in the Details

I am fascinated with mourning doves and wild turkeys. One could ask what is so interesting about these two rather common birds. Neither are particularly pretty to the eye; you could say they are not even in the league of hummingbirds for their gracefulness or chickadees for their song.

For the longest time, I could not explain my fascination. It was once I began photographing the birds that the reasons became clear to me.

Look closely at the mourning dove. The dove's feathers are a soft gray color with black and white markings. His eyes are circled with a band of white. Then move down to the dove's legs and feet for they are the brightest shade of dark rose I have ever seen. Wow, I had never noticed that before.

Contrary to their somber appearance, no squawking and chattering like you find in blue jays, you always know when the mourning doves takes flight. Their wings produce a helicopter-like sound that is unmistakable. Can you say that of any other bird?

Then there is the wild turkey. Visually, it isn't a beautiful bird, but how many birds have luminescent feathers? From its glittering pink head to its copper-colored tail feathers, the turkey glistens in the sunlight. What nature deprived in physical beauty, made up with a dazzling array of color.

I often hear animals labeled by what we humans deem attractive. Yes the baby panda is adorable, the peacock's tail feathers spectacular but the spider and snake, not so much. But there is beauty in every animal if you take a moment to observe them. So the next time you see an animal that you initially describe as ugly, stop and really look closely. You might change your mind.

Living in Silence

 

 

I didn't see him at first, motionless, staring straight ahead. Except for his location in front of my shed I would not have seen him. It wasn't the first time the rabbit appeared in the yard. Early morning or just before sunset, he quietly hops down the hill, eats whatever scraps the squirrels have left and hops back up.

I am surprised at his audacity. My yard is far from an accommodating environment for rabbits with very little food, too many predators. Yet the rabbit returns daily. I've seen him nibble silently among the rambuctious squirrels who constantly fight and chase each other. He's fearless in the presence of the deer who walk around him as if he doesn't exist. Even my two cats ignore him.

At the bottom of the food chain, a rabbit's life is short and often ends violently. It becomes too easy to anthropomorphize the rabbit's behavior in terms of how people would act.  What I label as audacious behavior may be simply nature's way of ensuring that the rabbit possesses the skills to survive. His silent behavior doesn't draw attention to himself and his so-called fearlessness could just be his innate knowledge that short of an accident, the squirrels and deer will do him no harm.

So I wait for him each morning, scanning the ground for his dark eyes, his white tail. A silent presence in the noise of life.

Returning to the Self

I've always had an affinity for the simple and common things that pass through my life: the squirrels who are summarily dismissed due to their numbers, the ox-eye daisy found in every field. Perhaps it is more in alignment to my own personality, that is to work behind the scenes not in the public eye.

It's not that I don't appreciate the unique, the rare. How excited I got the only time a red fox trotted through my yard; or the beautiful old skunk who lounged on my patio for one brief spring. My heart pounds when I think about the possibility of viewing a cougar seen in the area where I will soon be visiting. But in the end, it is the often seen, rarely appreciated animal that captures my soul and reminds me of who I am.

Every morning I hear the conversation of crows. Usually in pairs, they fly together cawing to alert the other of food or predator. Unlike most mornings, a memory created years ago popped into my head. It was in a small hotel room in Kyoto during my second visit to Japan. I was restless from jet lag and found it difficult to sleep on the narrow bed. Staring out the window, I heard the sound of crows cawing. In a country where hearing English is rare, the common language of the crow reminded me of home in a place far away.

Too often I chase after new hobbies and jobs, seeking new and exciting ways to recharge my life. I can accurately predict the moment when the shine fades off that new activity and I return once again to my usual routine. There is a lesson to be learned from the animals. Crows don't pretend to be anything other than crows. There is nothing wrong with experiencing new things, expanding my horizons so to speak. But is the chase for the new, the shiny, nothing more than an escape from being who I am? Maybe I'm a crow and that's just fine with me.

Thoughts for a Coming Season

I saw them first on Saturday afternoon; then this morning in my own backyard. Maple leaves are changing color and it's still mid-August. I shouldn't be surprised as the red oaks in my yard have been dropping acorns of all sizes for the past couple of weeks. Yet, these signs of autumn always disturb my love affair with summer. Sitting outside covered with sunscreen and bug spray will soon be replaced with sweatshirts and bonfires.

Now that autumn has announced its arrival, I will be on the lookout for nature's preparations for winter. The reddish coats of the whitetail will turn taupe gray. The fawns will soon lose their spots. Squirrels will scamper up and down trees, hauling leaves, twigs and other found objects to the uppermost branches to build their winter homes. First the hummingbirds will disappear then geese, cranes and others will begin their southern journey. In time only the winter hearty will remain.

As for me, I will fill and hang the suet feeders that will provide food for the woodpeckers, nuthatches and chickadees. Fragile ceramic bird baths will be cleaned and stored, replaced by durable plastic ones. Autumn is my favorite time of the year to walk in the woods. Surrounded by vibrant colors, it is a photographer's paradise.

I often find myself pining for Arizona when the snow just doesn't stop and the cold air burns my face. Yet without the seasonal changes, I would not be surrounded by the mystery and beauty that comes from the cycle of spring to summer, fall to winter. Being alittle cold is a small price to pay.

The Voice of Birds

I love the half hour before sunrise. With the windows open, the only sounds come from nature.  Claws scratching bark as squirrels climb nearby trees. Deer hooves crunching dried leaves on the ground. The songs of the various birds flying through and perched around the neighborhood. I listen carefully trying to match the birds with the songs.

Identifying birds by their song is a talent I haven't taken the time to learn. Being a visual person, my instinct is to look first for characteristics: size, color, beak shape and so on. The drawback is that birds don't really care if I can identify them. Unwilling to sit still long enough for me to pull out my field guide and flip through the pages, too many sighting opportunities have been lost. Having the ability to recognize a song would give me the advantage of knowing the species before actually seeing it.  That would give me time to pull out my field guide, notebook or perhaps, my camera.

There are many ways to learn bird songs. You can join a local Audubon group and go on birding trips. You can locate recordings and descriptions of bird songs in field guides. One source I use is Stokes Field Guide to the Birds of North America, a hefty but comprehensive book on birds that includes a bonus CD of bird songs.

This past winter, I stumbled upon the Cornell Lab of Ornithology website, All About Birds (http://www.allaboutbirds.org/Page.aspx?pid=1189) .  This site is amazing. You can find videos and audios of birds, natural history information, citizen scientist projects, on line classes and so on. I can't say enough about this website. So in the fall when the trees lose their leaves, the temperatures drop and the birds migrate south I will settle in front of the computer instead of the television. Perhaps next spring when the birds return, I will be able to identify them by their voice.

Everything's Dark this Morning

I awoke to an overcast morning with the sense that rain was coming. Following my normal routine of refilling the bird baths, putting food out for the birds and squirrels, feeding the cats, I went inside for coffee and breakfast.

 

 

It wasn't long before the squirrels and birds arrived for their meal. As I was watching the animals gather, I realized that everyone of them was black in color. A pair of crows, yes, that was to be expected. But all the squirrels were black as well.

I had read a newspaper article once that discussed the rarity of black squirrels. Obviously, the reporter had never been to my yard. The black squirrels here outnumber the grays by a large margin. My favorites are the black glossy-furred ones whose coats glitter in the sunlight. Most handsome guys.

Many people dislike squirrels due to their aggressive nature and ability to find and empty bird feeders. As for me, I appreciate their acrobatic abilities and their willingness to persevere to get their food. Who can't resist watching a squirrel, hanging by it's back claws to eat from a tube feeder. Not me.

Rain & Deer

The dry summer has been bringing a lot of wildlife into my yard in search of water. Every morning, my three bird baths are in need of refilling, telling me that the area creeks and streams are at low water levels. So when it rained early this morning I didn't expect to see much in the way of wildlife. Again nature proved me wrong. Shortly after 8 am, I spotted a family of deer coming down the hillside towards the house. Following them were three adults. In total there were seven deer: two does, three bucks and two spotted fawns. The adults immediately went in search of nourishment while the fawns were more interested in chasing each other around the trees.



It's been a difficult summer for wildlife as well as for farmers with the record temperatures and lack of rain. Down in the Lansing area, reports have been made of deer dying of EHD (Epizootic Hemorrhagic Disease). The disease is spread by biting insects, causing internal bleeding and eventually death. EHD is not transmittable to humans. Although the DNR reports that EHD is a regular summer occurence in the deer population, the heat and drought brought on the insects (and the disease) earlier than normal. Until a killing frost, EHD will continue to plague the deer population. Hopefully the disease will not spread northward and affect our deer population.

Lola

This is a short story about Lola, the raccoon who graces the top of my blog page. One evening in late May, I saw this face peering at me from the back shed. Lola had come to feed on the corn and sunflower seeds I had placed for the squirrels and had been surprised by my appearance. She ran to the back of the shed and peaked around the corner to see if it was safe.

Over the next month, Lola showed up nightly to nosh on whatever food remained. Then suddenly, she disappeared. When she returned a week later, Lola wasn't alone. Lola was joined by three youngsters. The mystery of her disappearance solved.

Greetings from Karen

I have always loved animals and living near the woods, have had many critters pass through my life. From whitetail deer, squirrels, a wide variety of birds and even a red fox, I am always amazed by whom I might see from my kitchen window.

Over the years I have photographed the wildlife that have visited my home and as my skills improved I started posting pictures for my friends to see. Encouraged by their support, I'll be writing and including photos of the wildlife that frequent my yard, discussing their natural history, how they interact with other animals and the environment in which they live. 

Thank you for joining me.