As a two time cancer survivor (cervical and breast) Mrs. T had a candle in her honor and as well as many for Steve who is currently taking on pancreatic. Here is Steve and wife Jewel along with the Troutbirders Ray and Barb having a sidewalk lunch a few years ago in the port city of St. Malo, Brittany France. Those were the days my friends….
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Love Lights A Tree
Even though my little point and shoot camera wasn’t up to
the job, the recent Love Lights A Tree ceremony in Spring Valley was very
impressive. As a crowd of friends and supporters watched, our friend Steve did
the job of honorary tree lighter on the giant tree next to the tourist
information center. A large number of
named luminaries surrounded the tree and were labeled with the names of people
lost, survivors and currently battling cancer.
As a two time cancer survivor (cervical and breast) Mrs. T had a candle in her honor and as well as many for Steve who is currently taking on pancreatic. Here is Steve and wife Jewel along with the Troutbirders Ray and Barb having a sidewalk lunch a few years ago in the port city of St. Malo, Brittany France. Those were the days my friends….
As a two time cancer survivor (cervical and breast) Mrs. T had a candle in her honor and as well as many for Steve who is currently taking on pancreatic. Here is Steve and wife Jewel along with the Troutbirders Ray and Barb having a sidewalk lunch a few years ago in the port city of St. Malo, Brittany France. Those were the days my friends….
Monday, November 26, 2012
A Tale Of Two Ears
When my faithful hunter and companion Muffy had to be put
down due to kidney failure, Mrs. T and I decided she would be our last dog. I
had stepped back from upland game and duck hunting and we planned to travel a
lot upon our retirements. Good plan. Maybe not. After years of having hunting
dogs we missed those loyal companions. A year later we decided to take the
step. After some skepticism on her part, my view for a companion/guard dog prevailed. It
was to be a GSD (German Shepherd Dog). His name was Baron. It was a whole
different ballgame from my hunting dogs. He proved to be very intelligent but
also very willfull. I thought well he is German. Stubborn comes naturally. The
fact that I spoiled him rotten didn't help either.
We visited our sons family in Colorado that summer. There
Baron met Hercules. They had a great time playing together. Time passed. Mrs T.
thought droopy ears were "cute". I didn't think so.

Baron. Loyal friend. Guard dog. Explorer. Hiking companion.
And member of the pack.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Tundra Swans

As Mrs T and I parked along the highway, we heard a rather loud and strange sound emanating
from the river. It was a kind of of
excited yet friendly conversation among some visitors from the tundra far to
the north.
Here, we were to witness a world class event in the world of
natural wonders. Coming from the arctic ,
in their tens of thousand, along the Mississippi river, tundra swans had stopped
to refuel and rest, before continuing their journey to Chesapeake Bay, far to
the southeast. 
The new overlook provides a safe place for people to turn
out to see and photograph the swans. Previously people would park along the
shoulder endangering themselves and passing vehicles. Way to go DNR and Army
Corps of Engineers. We make an annual trip along the river to see this amazing
sight. It never grows old. Thanks Mother
Nature!
And Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
And Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
![]() |
Flying Swans from Mr. Sciences "Nature Notes." |
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Prairie Flowers
We live in Bluff Country. An unglaciated disected portion of southeastern Minnesota filled with valleys, hills, farms, small towns and most importantly beautiful spring fed trout streams. Only a short distance to our west, the prarie begins sweeping across southcentral and southwestern Minnesota, all the way to the Black Hills of South Dakota. Mostly cornfields now, here and therelie a few vestages of the original prairie.....
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Trust Your Dog
Long ago and not so far away I was an upland game and
waterfowl hunter. Before, that is, my knee went bad and I switched to hunting birds with a camera and a notebook, it was a sport
I thoroughly enjoyed. I owned a series of highly trained hunting dogs long
before Baron, my GSD, arrived on the scene. Chessie was the name of our second
dog. She was a full-blooded Chesapeake Bay retriever. Stockier and more
broad-chested than Labs and Goldens, she had short, curly and somewhat oily
hair. Chessie absolutely love being in the water. Cold didn't faze her at all.
In other words, Chessapeakes are the perfect waterfowl retrieving machines.
Picture of Chessie as a puppy.
On one particular day
though, I was pheasant hunting. Chess was about eighteen months old and in her first year of hunting. She had
already proven herself ready, willing, and able to retrieve ducks. Pheasants
though would, perhaps, be another matter. That game bird required steely nerves
and a good nose. I left school as quickly as I could getting out the back door
that late afternoon. It was less than 2 miles to one of my favorite sloughs.There
was a little creek running through about 30 acres of grassland and cover.
Chessie started sniffing the ground right away. We had walked in for about 5
minutes when the first rooster flushed. It was a tough crossing shot. BANG!
Hey...
sometimes it's better to be lucky than good. The bird dropped into the grass
about forty yards away. Chessie was right after it. I followed on the run. I
watched her circle a bit and then head off
to the creek. She went right in the water. "Well what can you expect from
a water dog," I thought. At that point, I decided it was up to me to find
the bird. I searched for ten minutes. Then I called the dog. She came
reluctantly. I got down on all fours and putting my nose to the ground showed
her the proper technique. No interest on her part whatsoever. Maybe a little amused smile
though. Then she raced back to the creek The stream was about two feet wide
there. It had a bank of about the same height, where it had cut through the
meadow. Still in the water, Chess seemed particularly interested in this one
spot. I thought, "do you suppose" and bent over to look down into the
water. Nothing. Then, I lay on my stomach for a closer look. Reaching down, I
parted the grass hanging over the bank and there it was..... a large hole in
the bank. Mmmmm. The dog, now emboldened, began a low growl and put her head
closer for a look. It was obviously some kind of den. Maybe a beaver? Or what?
This morning, as Baron lay beside me and I looked out the window
on a cold and dreary day my thoughts drifted back to the times when wonderful
hunting dog companions led me through the fields, sloughs and around farm ponds.
Come on along with me….


Now, at this point, one must consider common sense. Reaching
into a den without knowing what one might encounter there raises some serious
questions. To put into perspective what happened next, one must also take in account
several factors. The age of the hunter for one thing. How young, foolish and
determined is he? How much faith does he have in a puppy who has never tracked
a bird before? Well, as my uncle Walt often said, "Ve gets too soon alt
unt too late schmart." The answer, dear reader, is that I reached into the
dark, hoping to find feathers and not sharp teeth! My lucky day, it was
feathers. Live and kicking feathers on a very smart pheasant. After doing what
you have to do, I gave the bird to Chess to carry a bit . Then we began hunting
again till dark sent us back home For the next ten years Chessie proved to be a
wonderful hunter-companion. She was the best! I had learned on that first day
in the field to trust her judgement implicitly. Here she is with a late season pheasant in the snow.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Retired Teachers
So what do teachers do upon retirement? Here,
our friend Jewel, a former middle school colleague of mine, has uplifting moments on the bucket of a front end
loader. She is on her way up to some
eaves on one of her and Steves farm buildings that need painting. Mrs. T, also a
retired teacher, took these photos. Her focus these days seems to be more along the
lines of keeping Troutbirders “Honey Do List” up to date….
Friday, November 2, 2012
The Lady Bunnys Slippers
These gems were the pride of my rapidly growing flower
gardens. They stood along the fence in the backyard shaded by our mighty oak
trees. By 2003, the year we built our new house in the woods, they had
increased to several dozen beautiful specimens. As part of our contract in
selling our old house, the new owners agreed that I could take any plants with
me, as they were not interested in gardening. Limited time and physical stamina
(I was helping build the house that summer) meant only a few could be moved
next door. Naturally, the native orchids were the first priority. A new bog was
built in the North Woods and the transplantation was accomplished with much trepidation.

Only time would tell.... native orchids are
notoriously difficult to transplant.
What a relief when spring revealed that all the native orchids had
survived their abrupt move without a hitch.
Things were going well when we left in late spring for a camping trip to
the Blue Ridge in Virginia. We had a great time touring Gettysburg battlefield,
Washington DC, Williamsburg and the Great Smoky Mountains. Upon our return to
Minnesota though, we found that disaster had struck. I had failed to poke enough hole's in the
bottom of the bog's liner. Heavy rains had filled the bog during our absence
turning it into a lake. Half the Showy Pinks were drowned. The survivors looked
pretty sick but I hoped for the best. Slowly
they began to revive. There were about ten survivors.

Several white rabbits were scampering
off across Oak Hill Drive returning to their home. I found all the Showy Pinks
nipped off at ground level. Each and every one never to return. The Easter
Bunnies are no longer on my list of favorite animals. Since then I have looked in various
catalogues for replacements. At one hundred dollars a plant I can't justify
replacing them . Since they are now being replicated by laboratory means and as
the price is slowly declining, the day will come. In the meantime, I admire my
large yellow ladyslippers which continue to do well….
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)