Technology vs. nature

Lately my computer has been balky and I haven't been able to get onto the internet when I've wanted to. I've often had to postpone posting to this blog.

On thinking about it though, it may be nature, not technology...we've had huge storms some riddled with thunder and lightning. And heavy humid air hangs about.

So I've found an escape from my frustration with technology...I run away.

Well I really just walk outside.

I gaze at my pond and watch the fishes play, rolling and chasing each other in the bubbles and currents from the little pond fountain and waterfall. I listen to the birds and watch the trees bending in the wind...and sometimes I get really lucky and everything turns calm, as it did the evening I took this photograph.

The dogs and I wandered along the pathways, the sun just beginning to colour the skies and as I past a nest box I was bombarded by a large number of tree swallows - the babies had fledged! They flew around excitedly. Their thrill at being in the air, swooping, diving swerving and floating was palpable.

I wandered on and as I got closer to the drive shed, I noticed one little fellow on this nest box. It didn't fly very far and was calling the same twitter over and over - obviously concerned about my presence but not secure enough to reach for the skies as its siblings had. As I walked by the box, it moved to one of the arches that mark entries to the pasture from the mown lawn, not twenty feet away, still watching me but with its head twisting and searching the area for help, calling and calling.

Finally as we moved away it flew back to its home nest box and continued to search for its siblings... gradually they returned. They surrounded the young bird and it gained confidence, soaring in the air alongside its buddies and nest mates.

That little adventure was enough to absorb my thoughts and divert my concentration. Technology be darned. The computer would have to wait.

The dogs and I continued to meander around the property, until I became restless and the weeds begged me to remove them from their confines in the garden. I happily obliged as Bliss and Spirit flopped onto the grass nearby.

I've found that a tour of the property whenever technology is less than cooperative, gives me perspective as well as respite. Like Catherine Ross - whose post today on Capture the Soul inspired me - I feel renewed and refreshed when I spend time outside with my bare feet buried in grass, hay and sometimes mud, enjoying nature.

Hope you have some time today to renew yourself in the way that gives you the most refreshment and happiness.

A puzzle

This morning we were walking in the very wet snow - it's quite mushy but the pathways on the property are still pretty solid. At the north end, both dogs suddenly stepped off the path and into the deep snow.

This (right) is what they saw. Can you figure it out?

I looked at it for quite a bit of time until I too finally stepped off the path to see better. It's a pile of snail shells with a deep, brownish hole in the middle. I realized that someone has been cleaning house.

A mole must live here. It's finally gotten tired of eating snails for breakfast, lunch and dinner and decided to throw out the garbage. The solitary snail on the left still had it's foot, so I assumed it was still alive and tossed it back down the hole. It might have a better chance of getting away through the grass below seeing as it's so mild, than being left on the surface of the snow.

I had to check on the internet to see if moles eat snails... and apparently they do as do frogs, snakes, foxes and raccoons. So do people, but I'm not sure we eat garden snails. I don't think I'd want to.

The tracks from all kinds of tiny creatures were really evident last night when we toddled (or rather I toddled and the dogs walked or ran) around the trail for the last walk of the day. Lots of tiny bird prints and many many deer mince. Several mole trails too, like you see in your gardens in spring - just under the surface of the snow though rather than the mud - long tunnels, curving and twisting from one set of dried flower stalks to a small red pine and then on. I'm only hoping all these little guys don't girdle the seedlings in the field. I guess wire is in order around them if it's going to stay warm for a day or two.

Hope you've had a good day so far and enjoyed as many meals this holiday season as our mole friend obviously has. Time for you to clean house before the new year?

Great Blue Heron

When I was  scouting for locations for All My Children to shoot a week long segment in Canada at some waterfalls, I went to the Elora Gorge.

To those who aren't familiar with the Gorge it's a very scenic spot carved by the Grand River over centuries. Big rapids, tons of swirling, rushing water, and lovely cliffs.

The producers didn't choose this location, but I found this wonderful Great Blue Heron who was so intent on its fishing in the shallows and backwater of the rapids, it allowed me very close.

I've never forgotten the roar and the power of the water and the amazement I felt that this huge bird could see, let alone catch its next meal in that fast moving river. Just after I snapped this shot, its head snaked down and it came up with a minnow. I wasn't quick enough, nor did I have a modern camera to catch the action, but boy it was impressive.

Love getting out into nature at its most elemental.

A smile on a gray rainy day

It's been a rainy gray weekend, but late on Saturday afternoon, the sun broke through and gave us all this great big upside down, colourful smile. Of course I ran for my camera, stood in my driveway and then ran around trying to get as many images as I could. Since the rainbow stretched from one side of my horizon to the other I couldn't fit it all in. But here's a small sample - not quite as vivid as it appeared when I shot it.

Rainbows always make me feel hopeful, cheerful and just downright all over good.

I hope you have some lovely rainbows in your skies this weekend and in the months ahead.

Chasing the Monarch

The Monarch butterflies have begun their migration south. While I haven't seen masses of these beautiful creatures recently, I have seen quite a few more than in previous years, which is, I feel a good sign for poor old Mother Earth.

I have spent a lot of time trying to photograph at least one this year and usually find myself without a camera when they are nearby dancing around each other in intricate ariel manouevres. This particular evening a few days ago I was more successful.

Because the insect didn't halt on a plant and pose nicely for me I ran around the back yard, the side yard, the front yard, into the paddock and then the pasture following it hither and yon. These aren't particularly good shots, but perhaps the best I can do this time round. The second one, shooting into the sunset looks a bit surreal to me - as if I'd pasted a picture of the butterfly on the photograph - or "Photoshopped" it.

Wikipedia says: The Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) is a milkweed butterfly (subfamilyDanainae), in the family Nymphalidae. It is perhaps the best known of all North American butterflies. Since the 19th century, it has been found in New Zealand, and in Australia since 1871 where it is called the Wanderer.^[3][4][5] In Europe it is resident in the Canary Islands, the Azores, and Madeira, and is found as an occasional migrant in Western Europe. Its wings feature an easily recognizable orange and black pattern, with a wingspan of 8.9–10.2 centimetres (3½–4 in).^[6] (The Viceroy butterfly has a similar size, color, and pattern, but can be distinguished by an extra black stripe across the hind wing.) Female Monarchs have darker veins on their wings, and the males have a spot called the "androconium" in the center of each hind wing^[7] from which pheromones are released. Males are also slightly larger.

The Monarch is famous for its southward migration and northward return in summer in the Americas which spans the life of three to four generations of the butterfly.

Mourning dove calls

This lovely mourning dove called and called the other afternoon - much to my surprise. Usually I find three or four of them underneath the weeping birch, nibbling at the black oil sunflower seeds that I put out on a plate and a table for the jays, grackles and finches who don't want to attempt the tube feeder at my kitchen window. I don't often find them on the wire above my driveway, nor do I see a single bird. There was something more plaintive than usual about its call which prompted my finding my camera and seeing if I could get a shot.

These birds are not the brightest lights in bird-dom. A dear friend of mine had one that one spring made a nest in her basket of pansies right beside her front door, bothered not at all by the family comings and goings. My friend called her Norma Jean - quite beautiful and quite breathlessly wide-eyed about everything. That mum raised two young that hung around the driveway for the longest time. Many of us in my pottery group call all mourning doves Norma Jeans. Their soft colours and gentle calls make them a favourite, year round.

***
An update on yesterday's post about two owl babies I thought were screech owls. I was advised by a bird expert who is involved with the Ontario Nest Registry Survey - (think I've got that right) - that the owlets were saw-whets. He was so surprised to see them and said the nest registry doesn't have very many listings for these owls and asked me to get the details. Even though these images were a couple of years old, I'm sure the information will be helpful since so many of our native birds are declining in numbers as their habitat disappears, they are predated or non-native species take over.

Since I write for organizations that are involved with recovery efforts for our disappearing natural world, I feel its important to spread the word - for all of us to do what we can wherever we can and when we can. A tiny bit goes a long long way - awareness is the first step....and that's the end of my seriousness for today - have a great day!

Swan dive images