It must be the cold and snow!

A week ago, we were blessed with about three inches of sticky heavy snow, but it wasn't cold. And then the temperature rose.

It took only a day or two and the temperature rose. The leaves that require raking became visible. The squirrels that tease the dogs so, were better able to scramble to trees and the dogs looked for other things to do.
But it turned cold again.

The lake froze turning to a silvery sheet.

The lake reflected the setting sun. And grew colder.

Last night after a week of steadily falling temperatures, it began to snow - not that lovely lazy gentle drift of flakes, that make me want to go and catch them on my tongue as I did when a kid. But a bitter, bone-chilling, winter-taunting shriek of a storm. My brain felt numb. Where did my energy go?

I didn't want to walk the dogs, even in the shelter of one of the many trails through cedar forests, soft and protected with little streams still bubbling merrily over treefalls. I wanted to hide under the duvet with socks, sweaters, mitts and the blankets over my head, and sleep away winter like a grizzly bear.

Or like Eleia:

And then|:

At 6 a.m., a heathen time to be getting up when it's winter in my opinion, I had to push the snow away with the outside door to let the dogs out. They, silly animals that they are, raced around, tails waving joyously as they realized that winter had truly arrived.

I glumly pulled on my boots and with some trepidation grabbed the shovel in my bare hands, to at least make the door easier to open. I was surprised. No biting wind surging through my dressing gown. Granted I didn't stay out long, just enough to make a short path to throw seed for the birds that I knew would soon be addressing the feeders. But still not what I expected.

And so the day goes. More snow, but gently falling.

Perhaps it will end like this:

with a "God-ray" seeking sun for tomorrow.
May you enjoy a safe and warm Sunday wherever you are.

Little birds in the snow

On Monday and Tuesday this week we had snow - and all the little birds - the goldfinches in particular come to the feeders and make the most delightful sounds - so turn up your volume and listen to "breakfast on the deck!" It's very short but fun to see and here.

While the snow still remains on the top of the hills around here, it's gone in my garden, but the frequent frosty nights are making a mess of some of the flowers. Fortunately not others and the tulips are still blooming, forget me nots and calendula just starting. It will be an interesting spring.

Please forgive me for not being able to post every day - it's been a busy time, as well I've had a bout of flu  and my internet access has proven spotty at best...

But it's fun to "blog" and your responses are always amazing whether it's saying you like the post on Facebook or sending me an email or adding a comment, or just stopping by - I appreciate it all.

Have a super day! - Rain and cold here but that's standard April in Ontario.

Chow time

Most of this winter the weather has been spring-like.
       Many of my fellow bird watchers in this area have complained that few birds were visiting their feeders. They have been disappointed until recently.
    Two feet of snow over the past couple of weekends even if it disappears during the week, has sent many birds to my feeders at least. Free lunch! The little birds - as I call the finches, sparrows, chickadees and nuthatches that frequent my feeders - wait patiently in the trees for their turns at the feeders, or having already dropped down to get a seed, munch with satisfaction.
And the jays wait for nothing - they just push their way in. There are now at least a dozen that hang about, from six in the summer.

They love the easy access of the feeder and the snow doesn't bother them in the least.

But, they certainly don't like me hanging about or opening doors and take off  in a huff, screaming "thief thief." 

And one lone America tree sparrow ignores the jay's warning and continues to enjoy its meal. Such a treat to see all this type of activity every day.

And the snow ends, the day draws to a close and all seems right in the Valley - hope you have happy times that are right for you in and around your home.

Our Christmas bird count

At the point of trying to take some sort of photo ending with this blurry photo of a kestrel, it was  nearing noon and the sky around us was blue. But when I looked out the door at 6 a.m. letting the dogs out first thing, the snow was blowing, winds high and the cold didn't creep in around my ankles, it rushed in and froze my toes immediately.

It was a terrible start to the day. The dogs waited impatiently while I cleaned the car off, not quite shivering, they are afterall Labs with lots of padding. Then we walked the pasture - the snow was determined to wet my feet and fell inside my boots - in spots it was over a foot deep, and blowing across the pathways, the field and the roads. Not promising for a day to watch and count birds. I didn't want to be out in this.

The snow stung my cheeks as we walked and Bliss bounded -  well - blissfully - through the white mounds which both dogs love to distraction, rolling in it, snuffling for mice in it, and gulping great mouthfuls of it as if I didn't ever leave water out for them and they were dying of thirst.

Finally getting on the road, with trepidation and a phone call to my 94 year old partner in this adventure that I'd be a bit late, I drove slowly towards town to pick her up.

"What a day," I thought miserably wishing that the snow storm that had been promised had held off for at least one more day.

However when we were both comfortably ensconced in the car, we decided that we would continue as we normally did. Dorothy and I have been doing the Christmas bird count for probably nine years now and so we headed for a village between the town and where I live, to see what the roads were like.

Dorothy had already received a phone call telling her we should not attempt to reach a couple of birders who have feeders in the back country - roads were too poorly tended. So we had a few birds to report at least. Add to that, the collection of finches, jays and sparrows that habituate my home and devour any and all seed - and suet. They had surprised me by showing up when it began to get light, hungry and obviously intent on breakfast.

Ultimately I turned onto a side road with some nervousness. The road leads up a hill, it was white with snow. We crept up beside a dairy barn, the cows were outside eating their hay already. Not a sign of a pigeon, or rock dove as they are still sometimes called... often we get at least four or five here. The farmer's tractor lights were flashing as he ploughed out the lane beside the barn. On we went up the hill, clearly disappointed and beginning to think the day would be a bust.

The car tracked like a panther up the hill. Why had I worried I wondered.

And so it went.

Our first stop was a home about 200 yards off the road, and fortunately the owner had been busy dragging a log behind his truck, ploughing the road. I followed him up to his home. He had not seen any birds that morning he claimed and went back to dragging the log. I manoevred the car into a good position to watch his feeder... and what a treat! From no birds to a bunch of chickadees, American Tree Sparrows, a tiny goldfinch and a purple finch. We were delighted.

After several more passes with the log, the owner got out and we said farewell, moving along the amazingly well packed drive with ease.

It continued to snow and blow, but in some parts of the 90 something kilometres we covered yesterday, it appeared to be letting up. Finally a bit of sun gleamed through the heavy cloud cover.

It was a very successful day. We laughed a lot, we saw lots of birds - some we'd not seen on bird counts before - a mallard and a goldeneye - we don't see ducks too often since we're mostly inland and the people who count along the shore get all the ducks and gulls. By the time I'd gone home, been greeted by the two ravens who live around here and always make sure to fly over and call out if they see me and the dogs outside, it was sunny and lovely.

When we gathered later to compare notes and complete the count, we found many had had a very difficult time, with snow blowing straight off the water into their faces, unable to see, let alone count, but they too as the day progressed, enjoyed the day and the challenges. Finally we were about in the middle of the pack in terms of what we'd seen, about 44 species, we had a high number of goldfinches for the year, and a new species to add to the count - a harlequin duck.

The snow blanketing the trees, grasses, roads and everything made it a pretty day - and though it was cold, we all were safe and happy to have completed another Christmas bird count.

Participating in this kind of activity always gives me a sense of community and of being part of something much larger than just this small area in which I live - bird watching the world over is the "hobby" that is growing faster than any other. And as we count birds and recognize the dwindling numbers in most species over the years not only here but globally as well, we re-commit to helping mitigate climate change.

Hopefully you have had or are having a similarly neat experience that ends happily and satisfactorily and are looking forward to a healthy happy year in 2012.

When it snows -

On the way too and from town on the shores of Georgian Bay, I drive past this lovely barn which is part of what used to be a family farm and orchard. The old farm house is now a classy B and B and the barn used for storage I assume. The rest of the land is slowly being turned into the new style apple orchards - vines where apples are grown like grapes.

The barn stood out against the newly fallen snow which was heavy and wet, clinging to trees like early Christmas decorations and making the faded reds of the barn and silo seem like beacons.

I had to stop and take a photograph. The image seemed like a Christmas card to me.

And then I looked east through the sumach. The vine orchards with a red brick house sitting in front of a lovely snow-gilded woods stood out backed by the ski hills of Georgian Peaks with the mountain seeming to stand firm against a stormy black sky. A totally different but equally beautiful image.

Of course the snow is mostly gone now as temperatures climb and rain buckets down instead. The ski hills and resorts may not do well this Christmas season if our strange weather continues to see-saw back and forth between cold and unseasonably warm. Today it's already nearly 12 degrees C - well over 50 degrees F. Not a record, but certainly not a white Christmas being promised. It will be tough for those depending on skiing and boarding for their livelihood.

But perhaps I'll  enlarge these photos and paste one over a window, or one of my other snow scenes from another storm...and chuckle over the vagaries of nature. Yes it's largely due to climate change that these weather upsets are happening - but no rant today. I'm optimistic that human kind is recognizing the problems - certainly this winter it's clear - and is beginning to make efforts, one at a time or in great groups, to make a difference. Hope you can join in, in some way.