Letting Go of the Bay Leaf: Bald eagle

Showing posts with label Bald eagle. Show all posts

Sunday, April 25, 2021

Mosaic Monday #128: Montana Spring

April in Montana is a trickster. One day the warmth of spring sunlight on my face spreads hope and tranquility through my entire being. The next day? Snow, and a vicious wind tosses branches against the windows like a petulant child. But the snow doesn't last, and all around are signs that winter is losing its grip to spring. At the farm of Dear Neighbor Friend, the evidence takes the form of fuzzy chicks and kids teetering on brand-new legs.

DNF's grandchildren have a ring-side seat to the miracle of birth. They quickly bond with the animals and take caring for them very seriously. But life can be closer to death than we like, and occasionally the family must cope with the loss of an animal. This week, one of the recently born kids passed shortly after birth. Below you can see the remaining kid, Amelia, using her mama as a jungle gym.

Over the hill at my house, I found this freshly dug hole, and trained the trail camera there to determine the culprit. A bunny!

Shortly after these pictures were taken, the Moultrie trail cam acted up again, and Spousal Unit bought a replacement, a Stealth trail cam at Cabela's (the one we truly want is on back order until May.) I placed it by the lake at the bottom of our property, in the hopes of capturing eagle photos. (In my February 7, 2021 post, I wrote about golden and bald eagles feasting on fish, and I speculated about a lake awash with dead fish as the ice melted.) It began to appear that theory might prove true - sometimes we observed as many as ten eagles at a time on the thin edges of the ice. The three pictures below were taken with my phone through my spotting scope. Not great quality, but you can count as many as 3 goldens and 1 bald in one of the photos.

Unfortunately, the camera did not catch any good photos of the eagles. By mid-month, the lake was clear of ice and I relocated the trail cam to the beaver dam, anticipating that this clever engineer would begin to repair winter's damage. Eureka!!!

As the ice disappeared, other water animals have arrived - cranes, Canada geese, and mallards.

I was not familiar with the ducks below - I am sure my professional birders will tell me if Ring-Necked Duck is the incorrect identification.

As you can see in the photo above, we had some snow on the 18th - the storm I mentioned at the outset with the ferocious winds. It was enough to raise whitecaps on the lake.

I imagine the duck in the picture below was ready to pick up its wings and return south!!!

But never fear, wait a few days, and you will be rewarded with blue skies and calm waters once again!

Mosaic Monday

Welcome to Mosaic Monday, a weekly meme where we get together to share our photo mosaics and collages.

Please include at least one photo mosaic/collage in your post.

The link will be open from 1 p.m. Sunday until 11 p.m. Tuesday (U.S. Mountain time).

Remember to add the link to your Mosaic Monday post and not the one to your blog.

Please link back to this post so that your readers will be able to visit and enjoy more wonderful mosaics; taking the MM blog button from my sidebar is an easy way to link back.

As host I will visit every participant and leave a comment so that you know I stopped by.

Please try and visit as many other blogs as you can, especially those that join in later, so that everyone's creativity can be appreciated fully.

Thank you for joining in today and sharing your mosaics with us.

Sunday, April 4, 2021

Mosaic Monday #125: At a snail's pace

Occasionally, a book comes along that moves me. It stirs my emotions. It provokes new thinking. It re-frames some of my personal experiences. "The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating" is one of those books. It was on loan to Dear Neighbor Friend from one of our mutual friends, and DNF passed it on to me. I am so grateful - she knows me well!

Set over the course of one year in a studio apartment in Massachusetts, Elisabeth Tova Bailey recounts her miserable time bedridden by a mysterious illness she contracted during a trip to Europe. Depressed, infirmed and without a reason for living, everything changes when a friend brings a pot of wild violets to cheer her; a snail has hitched a ride on the plant.

***All content in italics is from the book

There is a certain depth of illness that is piercing in its isolation; the only rule is uncertainty, and the only movement is the passage of time. One cannot bear to live through another loss of function, and sometimes friends and family cannot bear to watch. An unspoken, unbridgeable divide may widen. Even if you are still who you were, you cannot actually fully be who you are. Illness isolates, the isolated become invisible, the invisible become forgotten. But the snail ... the snail kept my spirits from evaporating. Between the two of us, we were a society all our own, and that kept isolation at bay.

Within the first few pages, I wondered when the book was written, because I was struck by the parallels to the impact of the pandemic on the human race. As Bailey notes in the Epilogue, her snail observations were from a single year of her two decades of illness. "The research for the book and the gradual process of its writing matched the pace of its protagonist and were just as nocturnal." The book was published in 2010, a full decade before the pandemic began.

Many of us have written blog posts about lessons learned during the pandemic, or silver linings to the metaphorical storm clouds. This book made me consider anew those that have been isolated by the pandemic. I paused, deep in thought about family members and friends who have faced (or are currently facing) life-threatening illnesses. I renewed my intention to be there for those who may be suffering.

I also resolved to continue to celebrate moments big and small. This will get easier as more of us are vaccinated!

I could never have guessed what would get me through this past year - a woodland snail and its offspring; I honestly don't think I would have made it otherwise. Watching another creature go about its life ... somehow gave me, the watcher, purpose too. If life mattered to the snail and the snail mattered to me, it meant something in my life mattered, so I kept on ... Snails may seem like tiny, even insignificant things compared to the wars going on around the world, or a million other human problems, but they may well outlive our own species.

It's human nature to think our problems are gigantic compared to others'. This slim little volume helps to stamp that out with a healthy dose of perspective. On again, off again snow during late March, and a windstorm that knocked out our power - hah! Mere trifles!!!

(On March 28, #1 Son was on the way home from work on Big Mountain, and two miles short of the house, this tree was across the road. If you look closely, you can see the powerlines caught up in the branches. No wonder we were out of power! Fortunately, there is another direction to access the house - he had to backtrack a bit and go around the long way. Power was restored after about 5 hours - we are always so impressed with the service, given that they are normally dealing with multiple outages.)

"Humanity is exalted not because we are far above other living creatures, but because knowing them well elevates the very concept of life." Edward O. Wilson, Biophilia, 1984

I don't need much reminding about the importance of protecting wildlife, but this book re-opened my mind to the vastness of the species that surround us, whether we notice them or not. I am not going to take the space to write about it in this post, but I currently have a bee in my bonnet about proposals to allow new methods of killing wolves ...

My trail cam has given up the ghost, and my new one will not arrive until sometime in early May. Sigh. So my trail cam photos are few this month. But no less special!

I am in the perfect habitat for me. It goes beyond the physical characteristics of the woods that surround me, and the roof over my head -- it's about the simple activities of my days, and the people who populate my world.

DNF surprised me with some "bunny" Peeps, and Head Chef concocted a recipe for a "Himalayan Martini". We first encountered this palate-pleaser at the Village Martini and Wine Bar in Chagrin Falls, Ohio.

In one of my crafty moments, I made these "flowers" from glittery wired ribbon to augment my Easter decorations.

I am particularly proud to have finished this cross-stitch this month. It was given to me by my dear sister-in-law. I had it professionally framed at Michael's and now it proudly hangs on our gallery wall.

"The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating" has been called a nature-memoir, and it was not lost on me that this is exactly the kind of book I would like to write, someday. (Not the illness part, but the nature and the memoir parts.)

"Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." Rainer Maria Wilke, 1903, from Letters to a Young Poet, 1927

I am indebted to DNF and our mutual acquaintance, for bringing this eloquent, bewitching, tear-inducing, galvanizing book to my doorstep.

Late one winter night, I wrote in my journal: A last look at the stars and then to sleep. Lots to do at whatever pace I can go. I must remember the snail. Always remember the snail.

******

Happy Easter to all of you who are celebrating our risen Lord!