Nature’s Christmas presence

Some years, open water lasts into December and we get the pleasure of seeing trumpeter swans late in the season. Once, a few years ago, we went for a drive to take a look at the swans on open water of the St. Croix river at Hudson, WI in February. This has been consistent with my understanding that waterfowl, including swans, roost/rest on open water. This year several sightings have undermined my understanding. We’ve observed swans roosting in harvested farm fields during mid-day. Today was the most recent such observation, and there were several flocks of a dozen or so birds. I may need to do a bit of for real research this winter to see what I can learn. If any reader has insights or recommended sources, please feel free to share in the comments. Thanks!

Carlos Avery 2015: December awans

Photo by J. Harrington

Today’s swan sighting was an example of one of the pleasures of “country" living. While driving hither and thither on daily business, there’s often a chance one might see wildlife from time to time, especially if one travels on less trafficked county or township roads, which I am wont to do. A few years ago I noticed a single swan on the snow covered frozen surface of Bone Lake in Washington County. That’s how I ended up discovering the Hudson flocks. Some Christmas presents come early and unwrapped.

Swans are reported to be a symbol of tranquillity and peace (#8). That makes seeing them at this time of year especially significant. You don’t have to believe me, but ask Mary Oliver.

The Swan

by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

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A matter of perspective

This morning a brightly colored Baltimore oriole male arrived at the grape jelly feeder. We hope he hangs around and isn’t just passing through. And later, we saw our first ruby-throated hummingbird of the year. Now the questions become: will any of the bulbs we planted last autumn grow this season and will we see scarlet tanagers or purple finches this year?

Baltimore oriole male at grape feeder

Photo by J. Harrington

I’m embarrassed to confess we have yet to wet a line this season. Of course, until recently, snow melt has affected the trout streams we would have been fishing. The current plan is to get licenses this Wednesday and hope that action doesn’t trigger a spring blizzard. Then I get to curse myself for never getting around to having finished cleaning and organizing my fly-fishing gear last winter. Oh well, there’s always the theory that the best way to get gear organized is to use it.😉

The Better Half [BH] likes to actually fish on a fishing outing whereas I also enjoy getting out and just poking around. I suspect that means some solo scouting trips for me in the days ahead while BH is watching the Granddaughter. That will probably turn out to be good for all three of us, especially if I remember to spray permethrin on my fishing shirts in anticipation of mosquito season. It seems like only weeks ago that the ground was snow covered and now... oh, wait! It was!

As we drove past a recently plowed farm field this morning, we noticed half a dozen or so swans and a couple of Canada geese. Rarely do I think about how large swans really are, but seeing  them next to the  geese provided an often lacking scale. Swans are BIG!

The Swan

by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

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Water is life, right?

Yesterday, beneath a gray, cloud-covered sky, we witnessed a flock of five swans flying toward something, somewhere. The silhouettes of white necks, wings, and bodies, against the pale gray background, was enough to make even an unbelieving observer consider angels. In my mind there is no doubt they are harbingers of Monday’s arrival of the Vernal Equinox. The early arrivals are probably seeking open water on which to rest. Many of us are looking for open water for a variety of reasons.

open water in a week or two?

Photo by J. Harrington

There is a Lakota phrase “Mní wičhóni,” which means “Water is life,” The Ojibwe have a comparable phrase, Nibi gaa-bimaaji’iwemagak“ “Water gives life.”  When water is frozen, life becomes difficult to maintain because water is less readily available. According to a recent report, water will soon be less available for many.

An article in the Guardian today notes:

The world is facing an imminent water crisis, with demand expected to outstrip the supply of fresh water by 40% by the end of this decade, experts have said on the eve of a crucial UN water summit.

Governments must urgently stop subsidising the extraction and overuse of water through misdirected agricultural subsidies, and industries from mining to manufacturing must be made to overhaul their wasteful practices, according to a landmark report on the economics of water.

Since Minnesota is a "water rich" state, some may think we needn't pay attention to yet another world crisis. However, one of the major action items in the report is to “Reduce the more than $700bn of subsidies in agriculture and water each year, which often fuel excessive water consumption, and reduce leakage in water systems.” The states that have been reliant on Colorado River water are already in trouble. California is experiencing either too little or too much water or both. Are our water rights adequate to protect our resources from gluttonous ranchers and farmers?

The political fragmentation we’re experiencing isn’t helping US resolve major issues such as water or other liquidity shortfalls. Why should we tolerate those who would use dissemination of disinformation as a basis foor governance. Is that the patriotic solution, to yield influence to foreign adversaries? Might  that not become our swan song?

The Swan

by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

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Some blessings of a thaw

Last night, after sunset but before full dark, we had two, possibly three, visitors in the back yard. Whitetails, substantial shadows on the snow, made their way to the pear tree and on toward the road. They were acting like food was what they were looking for. I doubt they found much. It was a poor year for acorns and the pumpkins were well covered by snow. We don’t want to attract crowds of deer because of CWD, so we won’t be feeding them, but, if the thaw we’re starting today doesn’t carry on for awhile, we may find a few brave deer looking for spillage from one of our bird feeders.

This morning, while driving to the Granddaughter’s so we can read some more of the Yule Tomte book, I saw in a field by the road a large flock of turkeys that looked almost black, later there was a deer wandering down the middle of a snow-packed township road, and later still a pheasant scooting into the roadside bushes. Looks like the break in our extended spell of bitter cold has local wildlife moving about instead of hunkered down. If my choice is between warmer but cloudy or sunny but bitter, I’ll go shopping for a SAD lamp.

Photo by J. Harrington

Mother Nature saved her biggest and best surprise for the drive home, as I was passing through Carlos Avery and crossing the Sunrise River, three swans flew across the marsh in front of me. I might have seen more swans to the north, but couldn’t be sure based on the glimpse I got. I know some swans overwinter on the St. Croix down near Hudson, and maybe some of them had come exploring. Our local marshes are, as far as I know, frozen solid so I wouldn’t expect swans to be hanging out around here except for brief periods. Maybe we’ll go exploring tomorrow. I’ve seen few things in nature more beautiful than swans flying below cloudy skies and over snow-covered marshes.

The Swan

by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

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Almost to mid-season

The Better Half [BH], while we were walking the dogs this morning, noticed a flock of five swans at about treetop height. They were silent and I, who was not next to BH at the time, never saw a thing. Seeing them would have been wonderful. Seeing them with my camera ready to shoot, even better. That gives me one more thing to still look forward to. I have many pictures of swans on the water. None of them in the air.

some fancy pumpkin carving

Photo by J. Harrington

We’re but a weekend away from Halloween. So far, we’ve not had any creative pumpkin carvers, but there’s still some time. About a week after the big H, we’ll be halfway through autumn and well on our way to Thanksgiving. Despite all the trials and tribulations in today’s world, I’m hopeful that we’ll have much to be thankful for and that between Halloween and Thanksgiving we’ll enjoy more treats than tricks.

This morning I cleared lots of leaves from the stoop and the garage doors. There are still many, many leaves on the trees around the house. As usual at this time of year, it’s a contest of whether I’ll get leaves cleared before they’re covered in several inches of snow. Wet leaves clog up the snow blower so we often just drive on and compact the snow until there’s a coating of an inch or so, which turns into ice next March. That’s an element of phenology I’ve become too familiar with. I’m less familiar with when pollinators and others head for the leaf piles to overwinter. If anyone has good information on the critters lurking in the leaves all winter, please share in the comments.

Halloween Is Coming

© Fiona Halliday

Creeping, crawling creatures scurry in the night,
Rats and bats and spiders, nibble, out of sight,
Don’t look too carefully,
You’ll get a nasty fright!

Monsters in the bathroom, witches in the hall,
Hairy beasts and demons climbing every wall,
You won’t want to catch them,
When they start to fall!

Vampires’ stealthy footsteps cross the wooden floor,
Werewolves howling fearfully, beyond your kitchen door,
Don’t look outside now,
You won’t want to find out more!

Zombies with their wild eyes and their soulless grins,
Skeletons with their bony cheeks and their missing skins,
Listen for their rattling sounds,
But do not let them in!

Halloween is coming, what a scary night,
Ghosties, ghouls and goblins dancing in the light,
Here they are all coming now, feel the spooky beat,
If you listen, hear ‘em shout:

“TRICK OR TREAT!” 

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Swans’ song time?

Compared to most prior years, we’ve seen very few swans this year. Perhaps those that migrated north last spring haven’t yet returned. That would be consistent with  the fact that we’ve seen few waterfowl in the Carlos Avery Wildlife Management Area pools all summer. Years past, there were often many Canada geese and a handful of swans. I’ve no idea what’s going on, or not going on for that matter. There is a location on the lower St. Croix river where flocks of swans often spend the winter. Maybe we need to take a drive and check out that place some day soon.

swans at Carlos Avery WMA

Photo by J. Harrington

We have been seeing more pheasants in the area fields during the past few years. Maybe their range is slowly increasing to the north as climate breakdown continues? There seem to be lots of changes in habitats and ranges as the effects of climate weirding continue. I know that one nearby major wetland complex is practically dry.  That could well affect both pheasants and waterfowl; better(?) for the former, worse for the latter.

I’m seeing, or reading about, more and more changes for the worse as climate breakdown continues. It’s affecting the habitats of fish, wildlife and humans. And yet, and YET, our government continues to under-respond while too many folks, especially those in rural areas, continue to vote for the party full of climate change deniers. I am not encouraged. I hope the upcoming elections prove that I’m a lousy trend extender.

The Wild Swans at Coole

By William Butler Yeats

The trees are in their autumn beauty,

The woodland paths are dry,

Under the October twilight the water

Mirrors a still sky;

Upon the brimming water among the stones

Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me

Since I first made my count;

I saw, before I had well finished,

All suddenly mount

And scatter wheeling in great broken rings

Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,

And now my heart is sore.

All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,

The first time on this shore,

The bell-beat of their wings above my head,

Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,

They paddle in the cold

Companionable streams or climb the air;

Their hearts have not grown old;

Passion or conquest, wander where they will,

Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,

Mysterious, beautiful;

Among what rushes will they build,

By what lake's edge or pool

Delight men's eyes when I awake some day

To find they have flown away?

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At the start of Christmas week

It’s neither silent nor night, but all is calm and all is bright, at least for the moment. The sun is actually shining in a blue sky. Christmas shopping is basically done. Packages to be mailed have been sent off. The Better Half and I just put several bags of presents under the tree of the Daughter Person, Son-In-Law and Granddaughter. We’ll spend much of Christmas at their home together with our Son, who’ll be coming up from “The Cities” to visit and celebrate his own birthday.

On the way back to our home today, we noticed a small flock of swans feeding in a harvested corn field. The battery on my better camera, the one that lives in the Jeep, had died, so the photo below is the best I could do with my smartphone. I’m pretty sure these are part of the flocks that overwinter on the St. Croix River. Being reminded of how wonderful is the area where we live could be a daily present if we paid more attention every day. That sounds like the beginning of a (repeat) New Year Resolution. Time to revisit Samuel Beckett’s famous quotation “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

swans in a snowy field

Photo by J. Harrington

I’m hoping there’ll be a book or two under the tree for me and that the end of this year and the beginning of next will remain calm and bright enough to permit me to just relax and enjoy reading them: no blizzards to dig out from, no polar vortex to cope with, no winter tornadoes in the North Country, no COVID infections in the family, etc. In fact, it would be great if next year we could even outdo Mr. Beckett and not fail better but actually succeed in making life better for most of US and restoring some earth systems on which we all depend. The way things seem today, that would rate right up there with the miracle birth we celebrate in a week.

Speakin’ O’ Christmas

Paul Laurence Dunbar - 1872-1906

Breezes blowin’ middlin’ brisk,
Snow-flakes thro’ the air a-whisk,
Fallin’ kind o’ soft an’ light,
Not enough to make things white,
But jest sorter siftin’ down
So ’s to cover up the brown
Of the dark world’s rugged ways
’N’ make things look like holidays.
Not smoothed over, but jest specked,
Sorter strainin’ fur effect,
An’ not quite a-gittin’ through
What it started in to do.
Mercy sakes! it does seem queer
Christmas day is ’most nigh here.
Somehow it don’t seem to me
Christmas like it used to be,—
Christmas with its ice an’ snow,
Christmas of the long ago.
You could feel its stir an’ hum
Weeks an’ weeks before it come;
Somethin’ in the atmosphere
Told you when the day was near,
Did n’t need no almanacs;
That was one o’ Nature’s fac’s.
Every cottage decked out gay—
Cedar wreaths an’ holly spray—
An’ the stores, how they were drest,
Tinsel tell you could n’t rest;
Every winder fixed up pat,
Candy canes, an’ things like that;
Noah’s arks, an’ guns, an’ dolls,
An’ all kinds o’ fol-de-rols.
Then with frosty bells a-chime,
Slidin’ down the hills o’ time,
Right amidst the fun an’ din
Christmas come a-bustlin’ in,
Raised his cheery voice to call
Out a welcome to us all;
Hale and hearty, strong an’ bluff,
That was Christmas, sure enough.
Snow knee-deep an’ coastin’ fine,
Frozen mill-ponds all ashine,
Seemin’ jest to lay in wait,
Beggin’ you to come an’ skate.
An’ you’d git your gal an’ go
Stumpin’ cheerily thro’ the snow,
Feelin’ pleased an’ skeert an’ warm
’Cause she had a-holt yore arm.
Why, when Christmas come in, we
Spent the whole glad day in glee,
Havin’ fun an’ feastin’ high
An’ some courtin’ on the sly.
Burstin’ in some neighbor’s door
An’ then suddenly, before
He could give his voice a lift,
Yellin’ at him, “Christmas gift.”
Now sich things are never heard,
“Merry Christmas” is the word.
But it’s only change o’ name,
An’ means givin’ jest the same.
There’s too many new-styled ways
Now about the holidays.
I’d jest like once more to see
Christmas like it used to be!

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It’s quite all white

This morning unseasonably bitter cold brought frost, fog, hoarfrost, haze and/or low clouds. Behind and  through the mist the sun was a pure white circle. Trees encased in white looked like escapees from a fairyland. It was magical and a little disconcerting to any of us conditioned over the years to seeing either thicker clouds or a yellow sun. All in all, nature delivered a beautiful early Christmas present today.

snow-covered fields and frost coated trees

Photo by J. Harrington

Yesterday we enjoyed a different kind of present. A large flock of tundra swans, white against pale gray clouds, flew past the windows. Swans emerging from clouds or silhouetted against them are an occasional winter delight in our  area. There’s a large flock or several smaller ones that  overwinter on the St. Croix river’s open waters. From time to time we see them doing a fly-by as they head for one of the neighborhood’s harvested corn fields to glean what’s left.

Since the dogs seem to be indifferent to the aesthetics of winter’s displays of white on white, they’re just looking forward to the return of seasonable, or above, temperatures during their daily walks. Putting on boots is a lot of trouble and feels weird so we avoid that unless it’s really, really, polar vortex cold. But that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable walking in the snow or on the ice at road’s edge.

Snow White

Katherine Riegel

I dreamt I woke in winter—
even the river
silent, its tongue caught mid-
sentence, like mine
when someone looks at me
too closely. It had been years

since I understood winter
so well I knew it to be inside
my own bone-cage, since I had
smelled that kind of white.

White of the frozen rabbit
my spaniel dragged in from the back
yard, white of horse-breath in the barn,
white of birds so desperate
for seed they pretend colorlessness—

except the cardinal, drop of heat,
too neat to be blood, too brave
to be symbol. I woke in winter

and almost-knew what I had always
almost-known, back in those dark
five o’clock walks home for dinner:

something about loneliness living
in the well of the throat, something
about fur and burrowing
and black eyes
waiting for the thaw.

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"Being there" on a Spring morning

Thanks to the Better Half [BH], this morning we enjoyed the year's first confirmed sighting of a red-winged blackbird. BH had motored off to the local grocery store at the proverbial crack of dawn. After she parked, she sent me a text telling me to go take some pictures of the sleeping swans on the Carlos Avery Sunrise River pools. I promptly put down my coffee cup, pulled on my jeans with the drivers license in the pocket, grabbed the camera, climbed into the Jeep, and headed off.  The ponds are about a ten minute drive from the house.

Spring morning ducks in flight

Photo by J. Harrington

It was that kind of morning and scene that reminded me of why I had been an ardent waterfowl hunter for many years. It was all about Being There, as Gene Hill, one of my all-time favorite writers, put it many years ago. The pool surfaces were mirror smooth. There were a few ducks in the air. Many of the swans were awakening as the sun climbed higher  and got brighter. A few remained sleeping with their heads tucked under their wings or else they were seeking an underwater breakfast. Watching the swans, geese, ducks and sunrise, just "being there," made me realize how lucky I've been in my life so far, to have been able to enjoy so many mornings like this.

Spring morning swans sleeping (center right)

Photo by J. Harrington

After taking a few pictures, I turned the Jeep around and headed home to reheat  the coffee. That's when I saw, perched on a roadside post, the blackbird [no photo of this one]. I've heard an occasional call or two this week, but this was my first sighting. And, as I look out the window while typing this, I just noticed a purple finch at the feeder. Spring is here. May we all enjoy all of it. May it not be our last but may its pleasures last us a lifetime.

Spring Morning 

Marion Strobel

O day—if I could cup my hands and drink of you, 
And make this shining wonder be 
A part of me! 
O day! O day!
You lift and sway your colors on the sky 
Till I am crushed with beauty. Why is there 
More of reeling sunlit air 
Than I can breathe? Why is there sound 
In silence? Why is a singing wound 
About each hour? 
And perfume when there is no flower? 
O day! O Day! How may I press 
Nearer to loveliness?

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The swans of St. Patrick's Day #phenology

This St. Patrick's Day morning the Better Half returned from doing some errands and kicked me out of the house. Actually, she told me that the Sunrise River pools were covered in swans and I should go take some pictures. She was right. Never before in my life have I seen so many swans in one place at one time. Below are a couple of the results. But first, let me add that I had been considering W. B. Yeats' The Wild Swans at Coole in honor of the Irish and the swans. Yeats' poem is set in October, not early Spring, so we went and found a different poems about swans, this one published in The Irish Times. The swans we saw this morning are tundra swans and we didn't hear whooping and there were, as you can see, many, many more than two, but all in all we came close enough for today's poem.

St. Patrick's Day: swans at the Sunrise River pools

Photo by J. Harrington

St. Patrick's Day: swans at the Sunrise River pools

Photo by J. Harrington

In a related event, while taking the pictures we heard, but did not see, a red-winged blackbird. Spring is here. No, we hadn't any thought of dyeing the swans green in honor of the day. But we will share an Irish blessing with you because, as we know, these days we can all use all the help we can get.

May the road rise to meet you,
and the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm on your face
and the rains fall softly on your fields.
And until we meet again
May God hold you gently in the palm of his hand.

Two Ivory Swans

Moya Cannon

Two Ivory Swans

fly across a display case

as they flew across Siberian tundra

twenty thousand years ago,

heralding thaw on an inland sea,

their wings, their necks, stretched, stretched

vulnerable, magnificent.

Their whooping set off a harmonic

in someone who looked up,

registered the image

of the great journeying birds

and, with a hunter-gatherer’s hand

carved their tiny white likenesses

from the tip of the tusk

of the greatest of all land-mammals,

wore them for a while,

or traded or gifted them

before they were dropped down time’s echoing chute,

to emerge, strong-winged,

whooping,

to fly across our time.

The British Museum, April, 2013

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Today's three certain signs of Spring #phenology

This morning as I left to do some errands, I noticed a number of open water leads along the Sunrise River channel through the Carlos Avery Wildlife Management Area pools. This weekend's weather may leave the channel open for the season. That's the first sign.

a pair of swans at the Sunrise River pools  in  March

Photo by J. Harrington

At one of the  open leads on the South side of the road were a pair of swans. Seeing them got me almost as excited as the times when I was a child in Boston that we got to take the first Swanboat ride of the year in the Public Garden, although that season doesn't start for another five or six weeks. Returning from my morning errands, I slowed to take a closer look at the pools to see who might be there. No one was visible South of the road, but there were on the North side, sitting in some of the larger stretches of open water, or walking on the ice shelf next to that water, half a dozen or so swans. These are the second sign that Spring is arriving.

One of my errands took me to the local big box grocery store. The seasonal display of Easter candies was being set up as I walked past. Since I can resist anything except temptation (Groucho Marx or W. C. Fields?) I had to see if Cadbury creme eggs had been put out. They were. I added two boxes to my small collection of necessaries. Then, upon arriving home and unpacking, I ate the first Cadbury egg of this year's Easter season. That's the third sign. Soon it will be time to bring out the Easter decorations for the table. Are peeps as much a sign of Easter as Cadbury eggs?

soon we'll break out Easter decorations

Photo by J. Harrington

We've already enjoyed our first 50℉ day here in the North Country. If the forecast for Sunday is correct, we'll get to enjoy our first 60℉ of the season. It's been our  observation that Mother Nature delivers a decent Spring here in Minnesota about once every decade or two. This could be one of those years. Even if it doesn't turn out that way, remember that, despite CORVID-19, "presidential" politics, the incompetent regime in D.C., a volatile stock market to match our Spring weather, the sun rises each day, whether we see it or not. Spring arrives eventually some time at or after the start of daylight savings time (Spring forward!). Life goes on (Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da).

The Swan

by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

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Thankful for beauty's reprise

We've seen lots more swans the past two days, in the air, on the ground and on the once again open waters of the Carlos Avery Sunrise River pools. There's a lot of Canada geese in the area too. We saw a couple of very large flocks about mid-day, probably headed for open water on one of the larger, deeper lakes. Our warmer temperatures haven't triggered much ice melt on the small, still waters that froze last week.

Late yesterday the Better Half noticed some sandhill cranes in a distant field and some large white birds mixed in. As first I speculated the white birds might be a couple of whooping cranes but then realized it's more likely they were swans. I was driving and didn't get anything like a good view of the distant birds. A brief mile or so later, we noticed a flock of six or seven swans flying into and out of the mist under some low-lying clouds. It's reassuring to know that the Southern migration hasn't yet caused abandonment of the neighborhood by some of our more interesting and attractive neighbors.

early December, Southbound swans on Carlos Avery pools

Photo by J. Harrington

Today I'm thankful that there's the beauty of waterfowl to be enjoyed in our neighborhood, and the talent of poets such as Mary Oliver to help us recognize the beauty of so much of what we see. (I bet you were expecting a cavil about our extended cloudy, damp, dreary weather. Surprise, this is the month for Thanksgiving!)

The Swan

by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

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Early onset Winter! Early onset Spring?

I know, I know! It's not even Thanksgiving yet and here I am complaining about Winter. Have you seen the forecast for next week? Here's Paul Douglas' version:

from Paul Douglas' November 5, 2019 Weather blog

It's still almost a month until the beginning of meteorological Winter and more than 6 weeks until Winter Solstice, yet even the larger local ponds and smaller lakes, like Higgins, are now ice covered. So, we simply raise the question, and our hopes, if Winter is starting four to six weeks early in a state noted for Winters warming more than Summers, isn't it mildly reasonable to think that Spring might start in late February rather than mid to late May? Just asking for a friend.

December swans, Carlos Avery Sunrise River pools, 2015

Photo by J. Harrington

The Sunrise River pools in Carlos Avery Wildlife Management Area are still open water, although the fringes are freezing up. As of this morning there were still a handful of swan families resting there. It is a real treat to see them and the Canada geese still hanging around. A flock of four geese flew low over the house late yesterday, brightening an otherwise dull and drab and cold Autumn afternoon. If the pools stay open and the swans hang around until early December, as they have in some years past, I promise to limit my complaints about early onset Winter. Plus, I'm beginning to remember and recognize the pattern from more "normal" Minnesota Winters: cloudy day, warmer temperatures; bright sunshine, cold enough to freeze your whatever. We seem to be headed in that direction again. Let's see if next week is close to record cold and bright and sunny.

Cold Poem

by Mary Oliver

Cold now.
Close to the edge. Almost
unbearable. Clouds
bunch up and boil down
from the north of the white bear.
This tree-splitting morning
I dream of his fat tracks,
the lifesaving suet.

I think of summer with its luminous fruit,
blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,
handfuls of grain.

Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love
for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

that is what it means the beauty
of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

In the season of snow,
in the immeasurable cold,
we grow cruel but honest; we keep
ourselves alive,
if we can, taking one after another
the necessary bodies of others, the many
crushed red flowers.

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Autumn's swan song? Or not?

When we visited Crex Meadows near Grantsberg, WI a couple of weeks ago, we learned that the sandhill crane population was expected to peak near the end of October. While we were there, we noticed a large number of swans flocked up on a couple of the pools.

early December swans, South pool

Photo by J. Harrington

Today, as we drove past the South pool in the Sunrise Unit at Carlos Avery Wildlife Management Area, we saw about a dozen of so swans, including one that was sitting on a muskrat house. Since we've seen few swans on this pool over the Summer, we believe they're beginning to flock up in anticipation of their migration South. A few years ago, there was enough open water and food available to hold a number of swans in the same area until early December [see photo]. At this time of year, it's possible that the local trumpeter swans may be joined by some tundra swans. "Birdchick,"  about ten years ago, posted a nice piece on her blog, comparing the two species. Even with several chances for snow in the forecast for early next week, the swans and the Autumn season may stick around for at least several weeks more, until after Thanksgiving? Let's hope Winter, and this year's annual fall migration, hold off at least until then.

The Swan

by Mary Oliver

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.

Spring's arrivals: some here, others en route

The past few days we've seen several dragonflies, one or two in the neighborhood, a couple more closer to the Twin Cities. To be honest, we thought the weather had been too cool and it was too early in the season for them to be back. Since dragonflies are some of our favorite critters, we're delighted and hope that the inclusion of snow in the forecast for tonight and tomorrow won't do any serious disruption to the dragonfly population. The ones that we got the best views of look like green darners.

green darner dragonfly

Photo by J. Harrington

We're sorry to note that this week's weather has triggered leaf out on local buckthorn understory. We're back pulling the remaining bushes and saplings from the area behind the house that we've been reclaiming. Once that's done, we'll start on the growth in the front woodlot. Sometimes it feels like we're doing the equivalent of trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon. It would be easier to stay motivated if there weren't so much buckthorn growing in the nearby MNDNR property, part of Carlos Avery WMA. Anyhow, the plantings of three high bush cranberries and two chokeberry bushes are now "protected" by wire cages. The Better Half installed the fencing the first time. This week's winds, plus uncollected oak leaves, tipped over several. We've now installed braces and we'll see if that holds through this weekend's weather.

sandhill crane in corn stubble

Photo by J. Harrington

Robins, and several species of sparrow-like birds, plus some stray juncos have been migrating through this week. Goldfinches are in bright mating colors. Someone has begun nesting in the bluebird box, a bluebird maybe? We've not yet seen any of the tree swallows that nest in the "purple martin" house we put up years ago. Several sandhill cranes have been visible in local farm fields. Swans appear to be pairing up on some of the larger local ponds. It's always a treat to see swans or cranes. The waves of grosbeaks, tanagers, orioles, and hummingbirds should soon be on the scene. Meanwhile, we're enjoying watching Spring settle in and helping where we can.

In Spring

By Rose King

I'm out with the wheelbarrow mixing mulch.

A mockingbird trills in the pine.

Then, from higher, a buzz, and through patches of blue

as the fog burns off, a small plane pulls a banner,

red letters I can't read—

but I do see, over the fence,

a man in a sky-blue shirt walking his dog to the beach.

He says he missed it, will keep an eye out.

Four barrows of mulch around the blueberry bushes,

I'm pulling off gloves, and he's back, beaming.

"It says, I LOVE YOU, MARTHA.

Are you Martha?"

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A successful Saturday

We wanted some tools for bread-baking, and more of a special flour available at the RiverMarket coop in Stillwater, so off we went with the Better Half. While parking in the lot between the RiverMarket and the river, a bald eagle swooped low over our hears. That perked us right up, although eagle sightings aren't as rare as they were several decades ago.

We bulk packaged the flour we went for and a different kind of flour we want to try, left them with the Better Half who was shopping for other things, and headed for the Valley Bookseller. They had one copy of a book we've been looking for so we behaved ourselves and bought just that one. We've never read much of Palmer Parker's writings but others whose opinion we respect have written highly of him so we'll try it.

approaching downtown Stillwater

Photo by J. Harrington

Then off to Cooks of Crocus Hill in Stillwater. We found a glass jar with a glass top that we hope will be just the thing for feeding sourdough starter to make the levain for the next loaf of bread; a new fat strainer, which we use to add water to our starter and dough, and a bowl scraper, finally, so we leave less of the dough behind in the bowl. Success!

three Canada geese

Photo by J. Harrington

On the way home, heading up Hwy 95 North of downtown Stillwater, we noticed a small flock of Canada geese landing in an old corn field. Already on the ground were quite a few other geese and a number of swans. The birds and the walk around the downtown shops is something one just doesn't get when shopping online. Hear us, Amazon? It would, we think, be beneficial if more retailers focused on the experience inside and outside their shops, and, on the way there.

When we got home, the dough we made yesterday went into the oven and is currently making the house smell wonderful. We have to go tend to that now.

The Gift

Chard deNiord, 1952

In memory of Ruth Stone (June 8th, 1915-November 19th, 2011)

“All I did was write them down
wherever I was at the time, hanging
laundry, baking bread, driving to Illinois.
My name was attached to them
on the page but not in my head
because the bird I listened to outside
my window said I couldn’t complain
about the blank in place of my name
if I wished to hold both ends of the wire
like a wire and continue to sing instead
of complain. It was my plight, my thorn,
my gift—the one word in three I was
permitted to call it by the Muse who took
mercy on me as long as I didn’t explain.”

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Swan, no song

We walked the dogs a little later than usual today. Our adult children are Harry Potter fans so we all went to see "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them." We can't honestly recommend it but neither was it a disaster. If and when there's another like it, we'll check the reviews more carefully before deciding.

Back to the dog walking: it was a blue-sky, sunny afternoon, with a half moon floating up there somewhere. We got to watch a single swan, fairly high up, fly past toward the Southeast, looking as if s/he wanted to find open water. That's a challenge these days. A long, white neck leading a white body propelled by large white wings, with the sun shining on all that whiteness, was a gorgeous sight.

Bone Lake, single swan on the snow

Photo by J. Harrington

Why it was only a single swan, we can't begin to guess. There was a single swan two years ago come December perched on the snow covering Bone Lake. We thought that one might have needed rehabilitation but s/he was gone (without leaving blood on the snow) the next day when we drove past again. Perhaps today's and the one from 2016 were part of the flock that over-Winters on the St. Croix done at Hudson.

Seeing that swan today promptly put us in mind of the poem below. We suspect many of you learned it in grammar school, as we did. We continue to enjoy it from time to time.

To a Waterfowl

By William Cullen Bryant

Whither, 'midst falling dew, 

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 

Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 

Thy solitary way? 

Vainly the fowler’s eye 

Might mark thy distant flight, to do thee wrong, 

As, darkly seen against the crimson sky, 

Thy figure floats along. 

Seek’st thou the plashy brink 

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 

Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 

On the chaféd ocean side? 

There is a Power, whose care 

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,— 

The desert and illimitable air 

Lone wandering, but not lost. 

All day thy wings have fanned, 

At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere; 

Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 

Though the dark night is near. 

And soon that toil shall end, 

Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, 

And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, 

Soon, o’er thy sheltered nest. 

Thou’rt gone, the abyss of heaven 

Hath swallowed up thy form, yet, on my heart 

Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 

And shall not soon depart. 

He, who, from zone to zone, 

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 

In the long way that I must trace alone, 

Will lead my steps aright.

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Connecting some dots

While driving South near Lino Lakes this morning, we saw three swans in flight. Absent seeing angels, those swans may be the most graceful creatures we're ever likely to see in the air. Maybe one of thee days we'll get lucky enough to capture one or two decent pictures of swans in flight. Later, while accompanying the dogs on a mid-day constitutional, we watched two bald eagles fly through the neighborhood. We're not sure if they were a mated pair or not. They were separated by about a 1/4 mile or more in the air. One was flying, the other climbing a thermal in an upward spiral. We would thoroughly enjoy experiencing more days with visions such as today's. We believe that both the eagles and the swans are returning migrants from wintering in more Southerly locales.

bald eagle, Spring sky

Photo by J. Harrington

Perhaps our karma is improving together with the weather. While poking about damp corners of the internet this morning, we discovered a web site of delight to those of us who love water, rivers and fly fishing. We also became reacquainted with a word that had dropped from our vocabulary. Syzygy Fly Fishing had escaped our notice until this morning. We found their wonderful web site through our discovery on Twitter of @PatagoniaFlyFsh ‏. (In non-astronomical use, syzygy is "A pair of connected or corresponding things.") As Spring continues to encroach on Winter and the days get longer, warmer, and brighter, we'll save further explorations of the SFF site for evenings and really rainy days.

The fly fishing web site matches nicely with several other water related web sites we've uncovered recently.

• We Are Water has a web site hosted by the Minnesota Humanities Center. If you scroll down to the Resources section, you'll find several Educator guides.


• The Minnesota Department of Agriculture hosts a Minnesota Water Research Digital Library
• The Environmental Quality Board has A Summary of the Literature Related to the Effects ofAnimal Agriculture on Water Resources


• The Metropolitan Council now hosts a Key water information catalogue

swans, graceful on water, more so in the air

Photo by J. Harrington

We mention these because, despite spending more than 40 years, off and on, working on Minnesota's water quality issues, each f the resources above is new to us. The growing abundance of information about the state's waters does raise the question of how an average citizen can be expected to be informed and intentional about what Minnesota should do regarding a growing list of water quantity, quality and competing uses issues. We've touched here on such questions from time to time. It seems to us Minnesota needs to spend more quality time connecting the dots. Fish once were contaminated by DDT flowing off of agricultural lands. Eagles eat fish. Eagles got contaminated by eating fish full of DDT. How many of our waters have "fish consumption advisories?" Trumpeter swans were almost extirpated from Minnesota due to development and over hunting. Reintroduction and recovery do not assure us swans will be here in the future. Do you want your children limited to catch and release fishing? Is it important to you that they see the beauty of swans in flight? Why?

                     A Hundred Bolts of Satin

By Kay Ryan

All you

have to lose

is one

connection

and the mind   

uncouples

all the way back.   

It seems

to have been

a train.

There seems

to have been

a track.

The things

that you

unpack

from the

abandoned cars   

cannot sustain   

life: a crate of   

tractor axles,   

for example,

a dozen dozen   

clasp knives,   

a hundred   

bolts of satin—

perhaps you   

specialized   

more than   

you imagined.

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