The bird feeders are busier than ever now that the cold weather has moved in. I was hoping the platform feeder I put on the ground would help to attract some new denizens and it seems to be working. The bluejays that hang out in the neighbor's pine trees are coming to the new feeder almost every day and I've seen a few more chickadees. The cardinals don't seem to come often, but if you're lucky you'll see them making quick feeding trips in the morning and evening.
I sat down and made a list of all the birds I've had here since we moved in 10 months ago, and I'm impressed with what we've seen. Here it is:
- Robin
- Bluebird
- Red-winged Blackbird
- Common Grackle
- Brown-headed Cowbird
- Cardinal
- Chickadee
- White-breasted Nuthatch
- Cooper's Hawk
- Bluejay
- Ruby-throated Hummingbird
- House Sparrow
- House Finch
- American Goldfinch
- Downy Woodpecker
- Red-bellied Woodpecker
- Slate-colored Junco
- Mourning Dove
Eighteen species ain't too bad. There may have been a couple more that I've forgotten. And that's not counting the little Horned Grebe that landed in the driveway by mistake last winter and then couldn't leave (they can only take off from water, not from dry land).
When you add in all the garter snakes, moles, voles, mice and rabbits, we have quite the little menagerie going here. Needless to say, I'm pleased. It would be cool to have deer as well, but there aren't any woods near enough for them or for squirrels. At least I don't have to fight to keep the squirrels off my bird feeders. They're no worry at all because there aren't any of them around.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Thursday, October 12, 2006
SNOWFLAKES ARE FLYING
Sure, it's just snow flurries and the occasional snow shower, but it's only October 12. Seems a bit early for this nonsense. But after a strong cold front moved through last night, it was clear that Indian Summer was over or in hiatus. When the mercury is barely above 40 even with the sun shining, you know a change has come.
How long will it stay this way? God, let's hope not until April. It's supposed to start warming up a bit every day, beginning tomorrow, and by Tuesday it could be in the mid-60s. I can live with that. There's a world of difference between the 40s and the 60s. One means we're still in the pleasant part of autumn, while the other means winter is coming faster than most of us would like.
How long will it stay this way? God, let's hope not until April. It's supposed to start warming up a bit every day, beginning tomorrow, and by Tuesday it could be in the mid-60s. I can live with that. There's a world of difference between the 40s and the 60s. One means we're still in the pleasant part of autumn, while the other means winter is coming faster than most of us would like.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
HARVEST
When I plowed up part of the yard for a garden earlier this year I was more or less resigned to not having a great crop. When you go from grass to garden it takes time to get rid of all the grass and weeds that were there and to get the soil built up with organic material and so forth. I hoped for the best, of course, but I knew all my hard work and expense might go largely for naught.
That turned out largely to be the case. The tomatoes did pretty well, as did the zucchini, but that was about it. Four of the five kinds of pole beans failed spectacularly and that’s actually pretty hard to do. Both types of cucumbers failed completely, as did the bitter melons, winter melons and Hami melons. The gourds actually did pretty well, but they sort of don’t count because they’re for decoration, not eating.
I planted a boatload of corn—10-12 rows each of six different varieties. Two were decorative corn, but the others were for eating. Only one variety—Mirai—did anything and what it did wasn’t much. But the few good ears we had were outstanding—sweetest corn I have ever eaten. Of course it helps when it goes right from the garden to the pot, but this stuff was so sweet I’m certain it would have been good a day after picking. The Japanese developed Mirai and it is still a bit hard to find here, but if you can find it, plant it. You will not be sorry.
I rototilled the garden at least three times and worked about 20 cubic yards of really high quality soil into it. I disked it and harrowed it and did everything I could to make it smooth and level. But I never could get it leveled properly and every time it rained hard I had standing water in parts of the corn patch. No wonder the corn never developed properly.
After the initial shot of Roundup to kill the grass before tilling, I didn’t put any additional herbicides on the garden. And boy did I have weed problems. Weeds and grass everywhere. Grew a great crop of weeds, in fact.
The raised beds did much better, especially the peppers. We’ve harvested a bumper crop of hot peppers and there are probably a hundred or more flowers still on the 10 or 12 plants. The Asian eggplant didn’t do too badly, but we only had three plants of it. The herb garden is still going strong, especially the lemon grass, parsley and lemon basil. The dill and cilantro grew like crazy, but I stupidly let them go to seed, so they sorta died off after flowering.
Once everything is done growing I’m going to rototill the ground again, but this time I’m planting grass seed. No more conventional gardens for me. I’m adding at least two more raised beds next to the two I already have and that’s the way we’re going to grow stuff from here on out. They work and they’re much easier to take care of.
The funniest thing was the asparagus. I bought 10 crowns each of two varieties, but they came—mail order—much earlier than I was ready for them. So they sat in the barn until they were pretty sad looking specimens. I thought they were beyond hope, but we decided to plant them—those not completely rotten—anyway just in case there was still some life there.
Nearly all of them grew. Go figure. So now we should have a nice little crop of asparagus next spring.
The strawberries grew pretty nicely, but we didn’t expect to get too many berries this first year and we didn’t. If they survive the winter in decent shape we might have a few quarts of berries next June.
So the final reckoning is about what I’d expected—not too hot, but not a complete waste of time and effort. If nothing else, I got plenty of exercise doing all the work in the gardens, so that’s worth something. And there’s always next year, God willing and the creeks don’t rise. These days that's as good a thing to look forward to as anything. Because if the Democrats with their 9/10 mentality take control of Congress, we might not be around next summer.
That turned out largely to be the case. The tomatoes did pretty well, as did the zucchini, but that was about it. Four of the five kinds of pole beans failed spectacularly and that’s actually pretty hard to do. Both types of cucumbers failed completely, as did the bitter melons, winter melons and Hami melons. The gourds actually did pretty well, but they sort of don’t count because they’re for decoration, not eating.
I planted a boatload of corn—10-12 rows each of six different varieties. Two were decorative corn, but the others were for eating. Only one variety—Mirai—did anything and what it did wasn’t much. But the few good ears we had were outstanding—sweetest corn I have ever eaten. Of course it helps when it goes right from the garden to the pot, but this stuff was so sweet I’m certain it would have been good a day after picking. The Japanese developed Mirai and it is still a bit hard to find here, but if you can find it, plant it. You will not be sorry.
I rototilled the garden at least three times and worked about 20 cubic yards of really high quality soil into it. I disked it and harrowed it and did everything I could to make it smooth and level. But I never could get it leveled properly and every time it rained hard I had standing water in parts of the corn patch. No wonder the corn never developed properly.
After the initial shot of Roundup to kill the grass before tilling, I didn’t put any additional herbicides on the garden. And boy did I have weed problems. Weeds and grass everywhere. Grew a great crop of weeds, in fact.
The raised beds did much better, especially the peppers. We’ve harvested a bumper crop of hot peppers and there are probably a hundred or more flowers still on the 10 or 12 plants. The Asian eggplant didn’t do too badly, but we only had three plants of it. The herb garden is still going strong, especially the lemon grass, parsley and lemon basil. The dill and cilantro grew like crazy, but I stupidly let them go to seed, so they sorta died off after flowering.
Once everything is done growing I’m going to rototill the ground again, but this time I’m planting grass seed. No more conventional gardens for me. I’m adding at least two more raised beds next to the two I already have and that’s the way we’re going to grow stuff from here on out. They work and they’re much easier to take care of.
The funniest thing was the asparagus. I bought 10 crowns each of two varieties, but they came—mail order—much earlier than I was ready for them. So they sat in the barn until they were pretty sad looking specimens. I thought they were beyond hope, but we decided to plant them—those not completely rotten—anyway just in case there was still some life there.
Nearly all of them grew. Go figure. So now we should have a nice little crop of asparagus next spring.
The strawberries grew pretty nicely, but we didn’t expect to get too many berries this first year and we didn’t. If they survive the winter in decent shape we might have a few quarts of berries next June.
So the final reckoning is about what I’d expected—not too hot, but not a complete waste of time and effort. If nothing else, I got plenty of exercise doing all the work in the gardens, so that’s worth something. And there’s always next year, God willing and the creeks don’t rise. These days that's as good a thing to look forward to as anything. Because if the Democrats with their 9/10 mentality take control of Congress, we might not be around next summer.
Monday, August 21, 2006
HELP ME WITH AN ID HERE
Now that I've looked through my book on North American wildlife I'm less sure that my frog in the umbrella is a Northern Cricket Frog. I think it is, but the description of the Green Treefrog worries me.
Can any frog expert or naturalist out there help me with an ID?
Can any frog expert or naturalist out there help me with an ID?
AND THEN THERE WAS ONE
I don’t know what happened to the frog I scared the shit out of, but it appears he has decided to relocate to another part of the property. Yesterday (Thursday) afternoon there was only one frog in the umbrella and I have to assume it was the one who didn’t jump down to the deck—a significant leap, by the way.
In fact, last night there were no frogs left that I could see, so I closed the umbrella and put the bungee cord around it. I couldn’t know if this was a permanent condition, but I was hoping one or both would come back. Cleaning a little frog shit off the tabletop seemed like a small price to pay for having them as companions.
This afternoon I took the bungee cord off and lifted up a panel of the umbrella to see what I could see, and there was one frog, looking not unhappy. It was weird, though, because he seemed to be almost all tan and had little if any green on him. I’d seen this before and it might be that they can change color a bit when they want or need to.
I didn’t want to crank the umbrella up and disturb him, but I looked around as best I could and didn’t see another frog anywhere. So maybe the other guy did decide he’d rather live somewhere a guy didn’t shine a flashlight in his eyes and scare him into making a seven foot jump into the darkness. He might have hurt himself making that leap—I can’t be sure one way or the other. I saw no evidence of him on the deck, so if he died, he didn’t die where he landed. I hope he’d okay, but I’d give odds he won’t be back in the umbrella.
I’ve done a lot of damage to my local wildlife this week. None of it was intentional, but you know the old saying about good intentions. Seems it often happens that way when humans interact with wild things. We don’t mean to do them harm, but we end up doing it in spite of ourselves.
08/18/06
In fact, last night there were no frogs left that I could see, so I closed the umbrella and put the bungee cord around it. I couldn’t know if this was a permanent condition, but I was hoping one or both would come back. Cleaning a little frog shit off the tabletop seemed like a small price to pay for having them as companions.
This afternoon I took the bungee cord off and lifted up a panel of the umbrella to see what I could see, and there was one frog, looking not unhappy. It was weird, though, because he seemed to be almost all tan and had little if any green on him. I’d seen this before and it might be that they can change color a bit when they want or need to.
I didn’t want to crank the umbrella up and disturb him, but I looked around as best I could and didn’t see another frog anywhere. So maybe the other guy did decide he’d rather live somewhere a guy didn’t shine a flashlight in his eyes and scare him into making a seven foot jump into the darkness. He might have hurt himself making that leap—I can’t be sure one way or the other. I saw no evidence of him on the deck, so if he died, he didn’t die where he landed. I hope he’d okay, but I’d give odds he won’t be back in the umbrella.
I’ve done a lot of damage to my local wildlife this week. None of it was intentional, but you know the old saying about good intentions. Seems it often happens that way when humans interact with wild things. We don’t mean to do them harm, but we end up doing it in spite of ourselves.
08/18/06
LIFE & DEATH IN THE BACKYARD
You can get yourself into trouble sometimes if you believe your own hot air (politicians, take note). I had just finished writing about how mating season was mostly over for the birds, so I decided to clean out my bluebird houses.
The first one has had any number of sparrow families nest in it this year and it was filled nearly to the top with nesting material. Feathers from God only knows how many species of birds, leaves, straw, grass, pieces of plastic bags—you name it. I suspect each successive family didn’t bother to clean up what the last outfit had left, they just built on top of what was already there.
The second house was just as full of stuff, but this time there were eggs mixed in with it. Four small buff eggs with brown spots. Oops. Sorry folks, but it was time to clean house.
The last house was absolutely packed full of stuff. And it was packed in hard, so I had to really yank it to get it out. Well…when I yanked I got more than nest. Three little chicks tumbled to the ground, too.
Oh shit. Not what I wanted to have happen. My black Lab got all excited and by the time I shooed her away, two of them took off into the weeds. The last one I grabbed quickly and stuffed it and the nest back into the box as best I could.
I had a pretty good idea of where the other two had gone, but the weeds were thick and high. So I pointed the dog to where I knew bird number two had gone in and told her to find the bird. She’s not trained as a bird dog, but she has a pretty good nose and damned if she didn’t find it. I could hear it peeping as she nosed around in the weeds. But she got a little too excited and stepped on the damned thing before I could grab it, so we had little tragedy. I grabbed the dead bird and threw it into the cat o’ nine tails before the dog decided she had to eat it.
I dug around in the weeds where I had seen the third chick enter, but couldn’t find it, so I went back in the house feeling bad about the whole episode.
A couple hours later we were out picking tomatoes in the garden and I decided to try again to find the last chick. I set the dog where I thought it might be and damned if she didn’t find it right away. It took some time to dig down through the brush to find it, but I finally grabbed it and popped it into the hole in the box where I had previously deposited its nestmate.
I don’t know if they’ll live or die, but putting them back in the nest was the only real option I had. I may check on them in the next day or two, or I may just leave well enough alone. I’ve done enough damage to my birds for one week.
08/15/06
The first one has had any number of sparrow families nest in it this year and it was filled nearly to the top with nesting material. Feathers from God only knows how many species of birds, leaves, straw, grass, pieces of plastic bags—you name it. I suspect each successive family didn’t bother to clean up what the last outfit had left, they just built on top of what was already there.
The second house was just as full of stuff, but this time there were eggs mixed in with it. Four small buff eggs with brown spots. Oops. Sorry folks, but it was time to clean house.
The last house was absolutely packed full of stuff. And it was packed in hard, so I had to really yank it to get it out. Well…when I yanked I got more than nest. Three little chicks tumbled to the ground, too.
Oh shit. Not what I wanted to have happen. My black Lab got all excited and by the time I shooed her away, two of them took off into the weeds. The last one I grabbed quickly and stuffed it and the nest back into the box as best I could.
I had a pretty good idea of where the other two had gone, but the weeds were thick and high. So I pointed the dog to where I knew bird number two had gone in and told her to find the bird. She’s not trained as a bird dog, but she has a pretty good nose and damned if she didn’t find it. I could hear it peeping as she nosed around in the weeds. But she got a little too excited and stepped on the damned thing before I could grab it, so we had little tragedy. I grabbed the dead bird and threw it into the cat o’ nine tails before the dog decided she had to eat it.
I dug around in the weeds where I had seen the third chick enter, but couldn’t find it, so I went back in the house feeling bad about the whole episode.
A couple hours later we were out picking tomatoes in the garden and I decided to try again to find the last chick. I set the dog where I thought it might be and damned if she didn’t find it right away. It took some time to dig down through the brush to find it, but I finally grabbed it and popped it into the hole in the box where I had previously deposited its nestmate.
I don’t know if they’ll live or die, but putting them back in the nest was the only real option I had. I may check on them in the next day or two, or I may just leave well enough alone. I’ve done enough damage to my birds for one week.
08/15/06
CICADA SONGS
You can tell summer is on the wane these August afternoons by what you hear—and what you don’t hear.
Gone for the most part is birdsong. Mating season has largely come and gone, so there’s no reason to be singing for a mate now. You still hear some calls and twitters, but the melodies of spring are long gone.
On most afternoons, the dominant sound is the clatter of cicadas. Their time on this Earth as adults is short to begin with and by now it’s much shorter still. But they do not go quietly. They let us loudly know of their presence before leaving the stage.
➢ Eight buzzards—yes, I know they’re correctly called vultures—are circling about a half-mile away, rising the late afternoon thermals. Must be something BIG and dead there.
➢ Big day for big butterflies today—Black Swallowtail, Tiger Swallowtail and a Monarch.
N.B. The frogs are still there, nearly six hours after I left them. One has a big turd hanging out his ass. I shined a flashlight on him and he jumped. The frog went one way and the turd went another. Guess you could say I scared the shit out of him.
08/15/06
Gone for the most part is birdsong. Mating season has largely come and gone, so there’s no reason to be singing for a mate now. You still hear some calls and twitters, but the melodies of spring are long gone.
On most afternoons, the dominant sound is the clatter of cicadas. Their time on this Earth as adults is short to begin with and by now it’s much shorter still. But they do not go quietly. They let us loudly know of their presence before leaving the stage.
➢ Eight buzzards—yes, I know they’re correctly called vultures—are circling about a half-mile away, rising the late afternoon thermals. Must be something BIG and dead there.
➢ Big day for big butterflies today—Black Swallowtail, Tiger Swallowtail and a Monarch.
N.B. The frogs are still there, nearly six hours after I left them. One has a big turd hanging out his ass. I shined a flashlight on him and he jumped. The frog went one way and the turd went another. Guess you could say I scared the shit out of him.
08/15/06
TWO FROGS IN THE UMBRELLA
The umbrella stayed down until Sunday, when we wanted to put tung oil on the patio table and chairs to keep the wood well preserved and good looking. So after I wiped the table with mineral spirits to clean the surface, I opened the umbrella up to shade the table.
A frog fell out of the umbrella onto the table as soon as I started cranking and I figured that was the one I had seen on Friday evening. But when I got the umbrella fully open, I noticed a second frog on the metal collar that connects the struts of the umbrella and rides up and down on the pole. So now there were two frogs living in the umbrella. A regular frog family in there. Or at least there had been until I rather rudely dislodged one from his perch.
I tried to catch the little guy on the table so I could return him to his pal, but he would have none of it. The first hop was off the table onto the deck, where we repeated our little pantomime and he ended up in the bed around the deck with the Rose of Sharon bushes. Okay, fine, be that way. You found your way up into the umbrella once, so now we’ll see if you can repeat that performance.
Today (Tuesday) I wanted to put a second coat of tung oil on the table and chairs, so once more I opened the umbrella (I had to close it Monday because a line of thunderstorms was approaching). This time there were two frogs on the umbrella collar and both held on bravely as I raided them up with the umbrella.
They didn’t stay on the collar long, though. Both crawled out onto the aluminum struts of the umbrella and watched me do my work. They’re probably still there, though I am not.
It’s interesting how they made a home out of the inside of a patio umbrella. Certainly it provides good protection from predators, which must be numerous considering their size. Can’t be much food in there for them, so maybe they come out at night and hunt insects or whatever it is they eat. Whatever they do, they must know their way to and fro, because the frog I inadvertently chased into the garden is back. I can’t prove it’s him, but it must be.
08/15/06
A frog fell out of the umbrella onto the table as soon as I started cranking and I figured that was the one I had seen on Friday evening. But when I got the umbrella fully open, I noticed a second frog on the metal collar that connects the struts of the umbrella and rides up and down on the pole. So now there were two frogs living in the umbrella. A regular frog family in there. Or at least there had been until I rather rudely dislodged one from his perch.
I tried to catch the little guy on the table so I could return him to his pal, but he would have none of it. The first hop was off the table onto the deck, where we repeated our little pantomime and he ended up in the bed around the deck with the Rose of Sharon bushes. Okay, fine, be that way. You found your way up into the umbrella once, so now we’ll see if you can repeat that performance.
Today (Tuesday) I wanted to put a second coat of tung oil on the table and chairs, so once more I opened the umbrella (I had to close it Monday because a line of thunderstorms was approaching). This time there were two frogs on the umbrella collar and both held on bravely as I raided them up with the umbrella.
They didn’t stay on the collar long, though. Both crawled out onto the aluminum struts of the umbrella and watched me do my work. They’re probably still there, though I am not.
It’s interesting how they made a home out of the inside of a patio umbrella. Certainly it provides good protection from predators, which must be numerous considering their size. Can’t be much food in there for them, so maybe they come out at night and hunt insects or whatever it is they eat. Whatever they do, they must know their way to and fro, because the frog I inadvertently chased into the garden is back. I can’t prove it’s him, but it must be.
08/15/06
THE FROG IN THE UMBRELLA
It’s been so hot and nasty this summer that we’ve spent almost zero time on the deck. Just too damned uncomfortable out there. So the umbrella over the table has been cranked down and buttoned up for months.
But in the last week or so the heat has moderated and we’ve had a string of bluebird days with low humidity, reasonable temps and a fresh breeze. Nice enough, in fact, to eat dinner on the deck Friday night.
Before firing up the grill to burn some burgers, I took the bungee cord off the umbrella and cranked it up to give us some additional shade. As I was finishing up the chore, I happened to look at the crank handle and there sat a tiny frog, scrunched up between the inside of the crank and the pole.
When I say tiny, I mean downright miniscule. Tiniest frog I’ve ever seen…maybe twice the size of my thumbnail. An inch long at most. He—or she or it—was light brown and green. At first I thought it was a toad, but a little poking around on the Internet showed it was a Northern Cricket Frog.
Not wanting to disturb our little lodger any more than I had already, I left the umbrella up when we were done eating. Seemed like the least I could do for our guest.
By dusk there was no sign of the frog anymore, so I cranked the umbrella back down.
08/13/06
But in the last week or so the heat has moderated and we’ve had a string of bluebird days with low humidity, reasonable temps and a fresh breeze. Nice enough, in fact, to eat dinner on the deck Friday night.
Before firing up the grill to burn some burgers, I took the bungee cord off the umbrella and cranked it up to give us some additional shade. As I was finishing up the chore, I happened to look at the crank handle and there sat a tiny frog, scrunched up between the inside of the crank and the pole.
When I say tiny, I mean downright miniscule. Tiniest frog I’ve ever seen…maybe twice the size of my thumbnail. An inch long at most. He—or she or it—was light brown and green. At first I thought it was a toad, but a little poking around on the Internet showed it was a Northern Cricket Frog.
Not wanting to disturb our little lodger any more than I had already, I left the umbrella up when we were done eating. Seemed like the least I could do for our guest.
By dusk there was no sign of the frog anymore, so I cranked the umbrella back down.
08/13/06
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