Windy, Wet, and Worth It.

The temperature is hovering around 5C+ and there's a stiff breeze off the Ottawa River. My hands are numb, and my feet are wet, as I completely forgot to pack gloves and rubber boots for this annual field trip. Clearly wasn't thinking clearly! We've trampled around the public marina, and seen a few birds, but because Spring has been late this year, there aren't many about this morning. In fact, there's more people than birds! 

But, the people are happy. Everyone is smiling, chatting cheerfully, and there's a low thrum of anticipation. Because you just never know what might appear out of the blue, and take your breath away. We are the watchers and the waiters, and  after a long, cold Canadian winter, the wait is almost over!

The Pembroke and Area Field Naturalists  club hosts a number of guided field trips throughout the year, and each one is unique in that there is always something thrilling that sets the tone for the event, whether it be a record number of owls spotted at the Owl Prowl in March, or spotting a Kingfisher during a recent Christmas Bird Count, or, as was the case yesterday, coming upon two Sandhill Cranes engaged in their courtship dance!

(forgive the quality of these two shots, my 20x optical zoom wasn't quite enough to capture the magic! )

We stood and watched from the top of a small knoll, looking down at the two cranes, as they swooped and pirouetted  displaying their feathers to one another oblivious to their captive audience of 20 people! This is a memory that will last for many who were there to witness it. You can't buy an event like this, you can't create it at will, you just have to show up and be hopeful that your persistence will pay off. 

The wait is over. 

Spring has arrived, and every morning for the past week, I've watched a feathered flotilla drift by my kitchen window. It make me perpetually late for just about everything, but gives me renewed strength, calm and sense of purpose. This year, the parade has been awesome!

And the best part? It's not over yet...still waiting for warblers, and the thrill they bring to a simple walk in the woods. I don't  know of any other activity that can engage all of my senses so quickly and so completely than a simple scan of the yard, binoculars ready, camera too. 

My collection of bird books, bird apps, binoculars, and bird art continues to expand and so does my curiosity. And perhaps that's why I'm a birder. It feeds my soul.

A Few Words

The time has come in my life when I no longer think the thoughts I used to think. Driving along the road to and from work,

The bridge I cross every day.  And sometimes I stop.

 I have slowly slipped away from the tepid questions: “Who am I meeting with today? How best to handle the meeting? How to deal with the political fallout? What to do for lunch?  Strike the last one, I still think about that.

And I now I think about more burning questions.

Like how the meaning of a word changes with the addition of a simple preposition. This is far more interesting than the meeting agenda.

Today’s rumination came when I watched a Cooper’s Hawk settle on a branch. Not in. On.

Sandhill Crane Settles in the Meadow

And so it began. I settled in to think about that. How one time I settled for less than I should have.  When I settled up my tab at the restaurant at noon, I knew I needed to let my food settle.  Walking into the mall, I heard a mom telling her brattish brood to settle down.

This is a shot of Tasty Crab Bites. On the other hand, what we taste when we bite is a crab. 

Last night, to pass the time at a Committee meeting while waiting my turn at the table, I leafed through a book on the settlement of our area. There was a list of the first fifty settlers, and dry commentary about  the fact that many of the scribes never learned to spell properly.  Thus we have  settled on assumed spellings by  the semi-literate to shape our past.

When "they" dig up all our stuff several centuries from now, they will unearth in the  casual diner dregs one of my pet peeves that I still haven't figured out how to amend. The almost always misspelled restaurant item: Caesar Salad. I now check every restaurant's menu for the way they spell this overrated, watery, salty, sad version of a potentially exceptional dish. If it's Ceasar, or Ceaser, or Caeser I know that the Chef has no connection with the menu, and I prepare to be disappointed. Sadly, I usually am.

THAT is another big thought.  Think about how literate the scribes of yore were, (or conversely, your scribes were) who ultimately have become the arbiters of our collective pasts, based on their interpretation of the spoken words of leaders with great authority, pomp, pump and sir-come-stance.

Any dummy can play music. What constitutes great? eh?

My second choice of a major, when selecting such things eons ago at university, was Linguistics. The fact that I settled on Sociology and Fine Art for my first degree is not being questioned, but it may be time to settle a score or two  with my inner artist, and tell her to mind her words