Say Hello to Our Little Friend

Since I was able to get a few good shots of the pine mouse, I decided to try my hand at making a gif of it, so let's see if it'll post here!

Daze Cache: Starry Starry Ice

Aarrgh, the COLD!

I know, I know!

But the marvels to behold! You HAVE to go see them, because they can't come visit, and you'll never see them any other time of year!

I'm talking about a couple kinds of ice forming while we sleep!

For instance:

Some determined folks cart Bobhouses onto the lakes, whether the ice is "plenty thick" or not. With I had a closer shot of this, as the house on the right is actually an old skilift tramway car upcycled.

Sabbaday Falls on the Kanc (Route 112) in its usual fine form with icicles two or three times taller than I am. *Don't trek near without crampons - REAL crampons, not the cheap driveway ice creepers that can't bite as well as you'd need. Trust me; tried that on the Oliverian Brook trail and fell so hard my hip was purple for a month.

 Back to happier things, though! haha

"Starry Starry Ice" - some rime ice formed on a stick that was sticking out of the frozen brook surface.

Pretend this one is rotated left, OK? Brook surface with various ice forms.

"Where's the ice in this?" you ask?
Why, see the rainbow on the bottom edges of each of the clouds? Those are courtesy of ice crystals up high bending the sunlight "just so".

Be sure to wear protection looking toward the sun, of course. Plus, I couldn't see these without my sunglasses, and put them in front of the camera to help cut the glare to capture it.

Here in central/northern NH, there's still plenty of shape and color going on, even in winter. If you know how, when and where to look.

What do you have around you? Do you know? Find out and tell me!

Have fun!

"Lark"

Woods with a View: The Observatory

For those readers just entering into our seat in the woods, I thought I'd include a couple photos of what we call "The Observatory" set up by the little brook that runs through the property.

As you can see plainly, it's rather high tech: some ropes and a cheap tarp, with an upended broom as a "tentpole" of sorts for more headroom while seated on the cheap foam pad for our boney butts. (*You don't want a sharp stick for the pole, as snow load can force it to poke a hole).

Side view

View approaching from back on trail by driveway; "Island" in center of brook fork, then "Far Ridge" across second fork.

We set up this rig last fall before the temps had a chance to freeze the ground and make it hard to stake the lines, plus to enjoy a dry spot on rainy days when we want to take a break from our labors and just see who's coming to visit. Suet and seeds didn't go out until the bears went to bed for obvious reasons.

Back in the autumn, the turkey moms and juvies (with and without beards), about a dozen total, came down the hill, flapped a couple of times to leap across the narrow brook (which is just barely jumpable for a human, even taller Bill) and made their way up the Far Ridge.

Though we haven't seen them over the winter around here, I did get to spot several the other day. They seem to prefer to give a larger girth to strange things than even squirrels and smaller birds do.

Three turkeys blend with woods and stumps on the Far Ridge.

Mostly, short the rare sighting of the Christmas Mink (first time I saw), we've studied the gray and red squirrels, as well as the white- and red-breasted nuthatches, hairy woodpecker and chickadees, and now about two dozen goldfinches in their winter drab before whatever plants it is they eat in spring bring back their former golden glory.

This is not to say we're not observed, ourselves. Indeed, the Reds continue to study us on the way to and from their own conferences of mewling and chatters to outright skirmishes (usually involving the Island Red encroaching on the stump stashes of those on this side).

Conference

Dime-sized footprints and tiny little claw tracks to give them launch capability on icy snow - SO CUTE!

So there you have it, a little sampling of how we start our day. It's also where we get the only accurate weather forecast for the next few hours; if there's a horde of everything at the seed, storm's coming. If not, they're browsing on other things like some of the many spiders or snow mosquitoes still making their way about or some juicy larvae under the bark.

The chickadees stashed food last autumn like the squirrels did, and they manage to drop their body temp a good 10 degrees from 108 degrees F to conserve heat while they're stuffed in their little hole in a birch tree somewhere, one per hole, only to lose 10% of their weight by morning burning off the fat they gained the day before and stored over their chests. As soon as there's enough light to see trees, they're off getting into their stashes to fuel the daily foraging.

The woods are full of homes and stashes, it seems, whether the trees are rotted or healthy, standing or fallen. Sometimes it's best to include watching our own tracks and impacts.

Have a great adventure!

Til next time,

"Lark" (Gwyn)

"Some Perching Required"

This.
Days of.
This.
Hope it's good, because I can only see every feather right now!

And, yes, it IS supposed to be "upside down". Its title is "Some Perching Required".

Though I had some of my bird and garden reference pics to work from, the idea was from a memory of some years ago when we had a colony of Pale Corydalis flowers that came up from the burn spots of smudge fires we'd set here and there to discourage black flies from biting us while we worked the garden.

A hummingbird was trying really hard to get a sip from the tiny flowers while in mid-flight, but just enough of a breeze kept preventing that, burning calories with no return at all. So, he took matters into his own claws, perched on the tip near the blooms, and tried it upside down.

I don't know if he found it worth the trouble, as he didn't share that secret with me again. But I thought his innovation was clever and due some credit, considering it's such as he who helps pollinate food plants for us, too.

As it turns out, these Ruby Throated Hummingbirds are the only ones who raise their families in North America. What a privilege to see them a whole season!