Frightened Canada Geese

When I see a flock of Canada Geese rise up in a panic, flapping manically to a different lake in the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge wetlands, I look around for a bald eagle.  They don't care about the Red-tailed Hawks, or the Northern Harriers, but they are terrified of the eagles.  I caught the eagle on camera after it landed in the tree on the other side of the field at the end of the video.  Also, do you hear the other birds joining in the frenzied song?

Sounds like Sandhill Cranes to me.  What do you think?

Cold weather is for the birds

It was nineteen degrees this morning when my car crunched its way down frozen gravel roads in the Vancouver hills, on my way to grab a cup of coffee. There are so many errands to run on a Saturday.

So how I got to Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge with my steaming cup of joe and a blueberry muffin is a mystery. I had so many things to accomplish, but instead the Red-winged Blackbird beckoned.

It was his siren's song that drew me in, made me pay the "honor system" fee and go in.

But rolling down windows to get a great view of the wildlife when it is twenty degrees is just plain crazy. Even the Great Egret was hunkered down, his neck tucked in and wings covering his thin legs.

The same with the Great Blue Heron. All hunkered down to keep warm.

It is still too early for most of the birds I saw last year, but there were a few. Some in pairs.

Some were alone.

And in one area, there was a red film over the water. What is that?

And the horrid pest, the Nutria scurried along the river bank.

There were bald eagles in trees.

And the few cars out jumbled up to get pictures. (They must not have them near their house.)

And no one stopped to take the Red-tailed Hawk's picture. They all wanted the eagle's pictures. Some had camera lenses as long as my arm. I felt bad for the hawk, so I opened my sunroof, snapped his picture and thanked him for the lovely photo op.

By the time I got to this Great Blue Heron, it had warmed up to a toasty twenty-three degrees. I snapped his picture and then looked up to see what he was watching.

I think it might have been this.

Further along the Canada Geese rested in shallow water.

And Northern Pintails hunted.

Several Killdeer ran along beside the car, but they were so fast I couldn't focus on them. I finally took this through the windshield.

Just before I left, the Great Egret unfurled himself and began to stroll.

And this Great Blue Heron posed for this beautiful photo opportunity.

I gasped when I looked at my watch, rolled up my window, cranked up the heat and motored to the store before meeting my daughter for coffee in Portland.

By the time I got home, this evening, snow was falling.

Stoltzman's Innisfree

Gratitude

I'm grateful to be able to sit amid a flock of Canada geese at lunch time. I'm grateful for my car stereo. I'm grateful I can google (yes I believe it is now a verb) things and people, and learn about them on the computer. Although I prefer the instant gratification of going to a store and being able to walk out with my purchase, I'm grateful I can buy hard-to-find things on Amazon and have them arrive at my mailbox a few days later.

Earlier in the week, before the rain set in, I found out my friends, the Canada Geese, were back near the little pond near my work. At lunch I drove to the spot and settled in. With the window only partially open, I listened to Richard Stoltzman play Mozart's Andante K315 on his clarinet, while I edited my manuscript. It was beautiful, tranquil, lovely. That is, until some predator, probably an eagle, sent the birds flapping into the air in a frenzy of honking terror. Then there was no peace for anyone. I might as well have had heavy metal playing and been setting small houses on fire. It was almost a relief to return to work.Friday, I went to the post office and there it was, my new Stoltzman CD, "Open Sky". I ripped open the package, carefully removed the CD and slipped it into my player. I drove to the "geese" spot, but they were not there, maybe because a red-tailed hawk lorded over the meadow in a naked tree. I'm not really sure the geese would be afraid of the hawk, but the meadow was barren. I'm also not sure the hawk appreciates my music like the geese do, but I set Innisfree on repeat and tortured myself for 45 minutes, watching the hawk and swiping at the tears. It is so very beautiful. I don't know how Stoltzman was able to put so much emotion into his instrument, but I can't listen to it without sobbing. Probably best not to listen to that particular piece while I'm driving. The other music on the CD is lovely, yes, but does not evoke my utter surrender, as Innisfree does.

When I got home Friday evening, I googled Stoltzman, found out he is currently at a well known music conservatory and I sent him an email, thanking him for the perfection of that song and for sharing his gift with us. He'll probably think I am stalking him and delete the email, but Hayward's Daily Review newspaper columnist, Ray Orrock, once said that if someone has touched your life, made it better, you should thank them.

You've no idea how it will affect them, of course, but I know such a simple task can mean a lot to some. On a whim a few years ago, I wrote a thank you note to one of my college instructors years after my degree. I received a letter back from his wife. He was in hospice. She read him the letter, and she didn't know if he understood, but the letter cheered her and renewed her resolve to stay strong for him. He died a few days later and she took my letter to the college newspaper and had them publish it as a tribute to him. I doubt he was well enough to comprehend the letter and, although I thought about it every so often, I never wrote to him until it was too late. I regret that.

If someone had a positive effect on your life, send them a note. It doesn't matter if it was a neighbor, a teacher, a relative, a movie star, or a clarinetist. Do it now, before it is too late.