troutbirder

2012-01-28T04:13:00.004-06:00

The fishing hadn't been the greatest that day. So toward evening we took a leisurely cruise down
the east shoreline of beautiful Mantrap Lake in northern
Minnesota. It had been clear skies all day, but now the
clouds began to gather as twilight approached. Rain was forecast for later that evening. We were headed towards Steamboat Bay at the far northern end of the lake
Thinking about the forecast, I turned my weather eye
up to the clouds ahead of us. It was all looking pretty innocuous. Then I saw him.
A giant was peering down a us. Who was it???
A mighty warrior leading his minions across the great forest of the north was my first thought.
Was it a Norse god - perhaps Odin or Thor with his mighty hammer?
Maybe Zeus preparing to cast his thunderbolts down upon us?
Then I looked again and saw Janus the two faced god.
The other face looking back to the west was..... was.... Jimmy Durante? He of the big nose. Or maybe two Presidents... Tricky Dick & Bubba.....
Relaxing, I chuckled to myself. No big storm to be afraid of tonight! Now who do you see???

Big Dog/Big Pony/Bigger Horses

2012-01-22T16:04:00.009-06:00

It was late November and the Big Guy and I were hiking a perimeter trail along the eastern edge of Lake Louise State Park. I was hoping to catch sight of an early arriving Northern Shrike. Sure enough....
Baron had stopped along the park fence line noticing something even more interesting out in the nearby pasture. Two horses and pony.I don’t believe he had ever seen such large animals before. Of course, he wanted to investigate. I thought he would surely begin barking. Not a chance. He carefully approached the fence. The horses approached. The pony came right up to the fence. Baron backed away. Then Baron went right up to the fence. ....I scratched the big brown horses ears. Baron watched me and then....

The Evil Dog Ambusher or Sainted Kitty?

2012-01-15T07:12:00.002-06:00

It seems Simba and his patron enabler (Mrs. T.) have been really been put out since a few days ago . Their argument seems to be that I placed a photograph, in the previous post, which puts him in a bad light. He claims that I am always prejudicial in favor of Baron and thus the dumb dog can do no wrong. The numerous comments fingering his obvious guilty tendencies are also cited as proof of the canine bias of Troutbirder blogging friends. . I promised that I would present him in a better light. Thank you.....

Simba is a fine daytime role model for retirement as he is wont to follow the sun around the house seeking out the most comfortable spots to bask in the sunlight. The hair, which he sheds all over the house is much easier to vacuum up compared to the GSD's (German Shedding Dog) which clings to everything, according to Mrs. T. He is a fastidious eater, never tempted by the gross things Baron is known to sample. He also has never been known to howl or screech at passing fire engines or police cars. Thus according to Mrs. T's analysis he is "a lovable, sweet, caring, snuggletime kitty."

Innocent or Guilty?

2012-01-11T10:05:00.006-06:00

It seems a flower pot was knocked off a table in the Troutbirder home. Rushing into the room, I found dirt all over the floor. There were two apparent suspects in view. each proclaiming their own innocence.

Simba (Mrs T's) spoiled cat claimed that in the process of harrasing him, the dog had crashed into the table, upsetting the pot.

Baron, (Troutbirders GSD) simply said, The Devil made Simba do it.

What do you think?

A Troutbirder Rant

2012-01-08T07:02:00.008-06:00

Rant - to talk in a noisy, excited, or declamatory manner. 2. : to scold vehemently. transitive verb. : to utter in a bombastic declamatory fashion.
After three years of blogging I’ve decided to step over the line. The ranting line that is....
Far too many bloggers, especially those of a political nature and the male gender, regularly live there. My own passion though is of a more vegetable nature. It seems as a child I was born to be prejudiced against certain types. Cooked cabbage, broccoli, Brussel sprouts, cooked carrots, canned peas, and rutabagas. I eventually outgrow all those dislikes except for one. The later.
My mom loved to cook with rutabagas. God alone knows why. I’ve often thought that the smell of cooking rutabagas could overpower anything, even an enemy. I’m surprised the army never adapted them for battlefield use.
Mom regularly added the hated ingredient to her vegetable beef soup. The corker though was the Sunday roast beef dinner we had after church. A fine dinner it was with carrots, potatoes and onions added to the roast. The rutabagas killed it all though with the taste and odor lingering on for hours.
The memory of all this has unfortunately lingered on into my so called golden years besmirching my reputation for open mindedness. Take our recent fine dinner with Mr. And Mrs. Science. Somehow, and I don’t know how it happened, the subject of the hated vegetable came up. I proceeded to launch into what Mrs. T calls "his predictable ten minute tirade." It was then that our gracious hostess finally blurted out "but we love rutabagas." And proceeded to point out that their neighbors grew them by the ton and gifted them with a 50 pound bag each year. Thereupon, I was informed that many fine and discerning gourmets love the root. Oh my. In another example, my wife’s best friend has often carefully boxed and wrapped one for my birthday. The word has gotten around.....

For the uninitiated who remain unconvinced, in the public interest, I submit the following:-

Lemon Carrots and Rutabagas
Ingredients
4 medium carrots, cut into 3 inch julienne strips
2 cups rutabaga, peeled and cut into 3 inch julienne strips
1/2 cup water
2 tablespoons butter or stick margarine
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon peel
1/4 teaspoon dill weed
Directions
In a large saucepan, combine the carrots, rutabaga and water. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium; cover and cook for 13-15 minutes. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, combine the remaining ingredients; cook, uncovered, over medium heat for 2-3 minutes or until butter is melted.
Drain vegetables; add butter mixture. Cook for 3-4 minutes or until vegetables are glazed, stirring occasionally.

Barb

2012-01-02T10:23:00.003-06:00

Barb had a breast cancer diagnosis shortly before we were to leave for Arizona. We determined visiting the grands was the best cure option in the short run. The day after Christmas we returned to Minnesota and met the next day with the Mayo surgeon. The next day a double mastectomy was successfully performed. I'm typing this now with the knowledge every thing seemed good (limited ) and chemotherapy may not be necessary. No radiation either. We're very encouraged. Amazingly Barb was up that very evening and was given permission, the next day, to go ahead and return home. While under medical instructions to keep a low profile for a few weeks, she is already giving me orders on what to do in the domestic field as well as my home nursing duties. We see the surgeon next Tues and the Oncologists on Jan 9th.
Ray (Troutbirder)

Nuts!

2011-12-09T14:11:00.007-06:00

I think the squirrels should be doing well this winter as we had a world record acorn crop this year. Daily sweeping of the deck produced bucketfulls of the fruit. I slipped several times and almost fell in the back yard filling the bird feeders. Worse than ice, I thought at the time. And the ricochet shots off the roof in the middle of the night were more than a little annoying. Still we love our white and burr oak trees. Almost as much as our beloved butternut..... The Juglans cinerea. It has distinctive ridged and furrowed bark. It produces drooping clusters of sweet nuts which are used in baking. It grows to 40' to 60', 35'-50' spread. This tree grows at a slow growth rate but was already mature when we bought our first home on Oak Hill. Although it does best in full sun, our butternut still did well surrounded by white oak trees. The fruit is a tapered. oblong, 1 ½"-2 ½" fruit covered with sticky hairs which encloses a brown, corrugated, thick, 1"-1 ½" shell that terminates in a point. The oval kernel is tender with sweet, oily, buttery flavor. The butternut or white walnut is one of the hardiest nut trees, A North American native, the nut has a rich, buttery flavor used in baking, confections, and eating fresh. The attractive, light golden wood is used for paneling and furniture. Its nuts are valuable as food for deer, squirrels, and birds. And so early that fall I raked together the fallen nuts and placed them on the sun deck to air and dry. A few weeks later they were placed in a basket and left on the deck for further airing. My intention was to shell them around Thanksgiving time.Imagine my surprise when I checked on them later to find that every single one had disappeared! Who would sink so low as to take such an item from a person who had carefully gathered the harvest for the winter? I was appalled. I figured that the perpetrators had brought a box and dumped my treasure into it, leaving the basket as a sick reminder of their crime. To say I was ticked would be somewhat of an understatement. Reporting the loss of my nuts to the police or the insurance company didn’t seem to be the way I wanted to go either (he chuckles to himself). So life goes on and their were many other fall chores to finish. One task was to cut down a dead quaking aspen which loomed over my garden. Chain saw in hand I headed out into the woods. The tree was about 60 feet tall. Now aspen is a very soft wood but after I notched it and made the final base cut, it went down very quickly. Rather too quickly, I thought, until I realized the tree was hollow. And there to my huge surprise was the mother load of butternuts. All safely stored away for the winter. How sweet it was! I’m not a revengeful person at heart but property rights must be respected and these nuts were mine!

Well, as they say, "all’s well that ends well." I used the vise in my workshop to crack open the nuts. They were so sweet. Not holding a grudge, I made sure the squirrels were well fed that winter with corn and sunflower seeds. Sadly though, the butternut tree is gone now. The people who bought our house next door to our new one in the woods, sawed it down. Apparently raking up the butternuts was too much bother.
And so leaving the feeders well stocked, we prepare to leave sub-arctic Minnesota for the desert. There the grandchildren await the arrival of Santa Claus. And we hope "warm family times" await all our blogging friends wherever you are located this holiday season.
Troutbirder and Mrs. T.

Winter Arrived Last Night

2011-12-04T17:44:00.006-06:00

As I stepped outside, this somewhat cold and dreary morning, winter had arrived on Oak Hill overnight. Greetings winter! I'll let Baron outside to romp. My own snow romping days are over. But content, I'll start up the snow blower to clear the driveway. Go back inside for some hot chocolate. And watch the bird feeders from my easy chair while starting a new book. Each season to its own rhythms here in the northland.

Turks Cap Lily - Not!

2011-12-01T08:39:00.015-06:00

Lilium Superbum - The Turks Cap Lily

There are lessons to be learned in just about all phases of life. History, or in this case botany, can teach that. Keeping an open mind might be one such lesson. Take the case of the elusive Turks Cap Lily. Wildflowers like birds can have "local" names. Thats why both are scientifically identified by latin names. Some time back I posted some wildflower pictures and identified one of them, found in a native prairie preserve, as a "Turks Cap Lily." Every one around here called these wildflowers Turks Caps, so I was absolutely certainly positive that's what they were. Thats why when several commenters gently informed that they were Michigan Lilies I replied that they were seriously mistaken. The ideological rigidity of todays politics come to mind doesn't it?

Michigan Lily

Lilium michiganense is an attractive plant that adapts well to flower gardens. The Michigan Lily can be distinguished from Lilium superbum (Turk's Cap Lily) as follows: 1) the former species has a more northern distribution in Illinois, 2) the anthers of the former are ½" or less, while the anthers of the latter species are ½" or longer, 3) the former has yellow bulbs, while the latter has white bulbs, 4) the tips of the tepals of the former curve backward toward the base of the flower, while in the latter species they curve backward considerably beyond the base of the flower, and 5) specimens of the latter species may have a conspicuous 6-pointed green star at the base of the flower, although it is not always present. Somehow I'd been unaware of the difference. Oops!

Today, I wish I could remember the names of the people I'd self righteously "corrected" by email. I'd send them a belated apology. Or maybe the title of this post might catch their eye... but I doubt it. In any case, let's all try to keep more of an open mind..... I'm working on it..... :)

Those Were The Days

2011-11-26T06:07:00.006-06:00

You can tell by the vintage of the school bus that the people in this picture must be pretty old by now. This is second grade, Mounds Park Elementary school, St. Paul, Minnesota. That's Troutbirder in the front row, right hand corner, with the little beanie cap on.... jeez mom how could you? My cousin Terry had sent me a notice of an Elementary School reunion and I guess it sent my brain cells off on a jog through memory lane....

There is Miss Amblers Kindergarten class down by the old wishing rock. My 1st cousin Prudy is front row far left and I'm back row center with the the suspenders. Obviously my mother was a fashion maven. Of course, I was first born so according to the psychologists got all the good stuff. Miss Ambler had been my fathers kindergarten teacher. Other names I remember were Miss Heim, Miss Holmen, Miss Searle, Miss Ahlstrom, and Miss Dahlquist. Plainly female teachers were not allowed to marry in those days. Yes, I walked six blocks to school, uphill both ways, as Bill Cosby says. Those were the days my friends, we thought they'd never end....

Here's a few more fashionista pictures from the "40's."

Beautiful Tundra Swans

2011-11-22T05:35:00.009-06:00

Mr. Science and I headed down to the "Big River", the Mississippi, yesterday for a day of birding. There, the Mississippi National Wildlife Refuge provides a safe haven for millions of migratiing waterfowl each fall. We did, however, have a special target in mind. Migrating from their summer breeding grounds in the northern Arctic, tens of thousands of beautiful large white birds, wend there way south to stop, rest, and refuel on the Mississippi River near Brownsville, Minnesota. They pause here, usually for a few weeks, before turning southeast, heading for their wintering grounds on Chesapeake Bay. They are the beautiful Tundra Swans.

Here, on a backwater near Weaver, we see hundreds of swans and ducks. In the distance, beyond the screen of trees, a barge is moving down the main channel of the river. With Wisconsin in the distance, perhaps a mile away, we can see many more. Sometimes, huge "rafts" of these birds seem to turn the entire river white. When we step out of car, the sound of their vocalizations is almost deafening. Some are even close enough to us to get a picture. On occasion a few fly over us, but I'm not a skilled enough photographer to get a decent picture. Another wonder can occur; on some visits I've counted well over several hundred Bald Eagles. If the sun is out and thermals rise above the bluffs, we can see them "kettle." They form a spiral rising almost out of sight. Late migrating white pelicans also use this river highway. Awkward looking on the ground, they are magnificent soaring aloft as they head south to the Gulf.

With the construction of the lock and dam system on the river in the 1930's, many of the natural aspects of the river have changed. One of these is the wave action of the increased open spaces. Many islands have disappeared. Because of this many of the plants and tubers the swans fed on have also disappeared. Now man is undoing the damage and helping the birds by using dredge material from the main channel to rebuild these islands. Here you can see one of the many artificial islands providing a resting place and shelter from the wind and renewed food supplies. Way to go DNR and Army Corps of Engineers!

I took a video with my little point and shoot camera, I wanted to let you hear the swans. I estimated their were about 5,000 in the immediate area. There have been well over 100,000 during peak weeks of the migration. Unfortunately, Blogger didn't like it.
Darn!

Scenes From The Arizona Desert

2011-11-17T07:05:00.009-06:00

Petrified Forest National Park - Arizona

2011-11-14T08:31:00.012-06:00

We were a little ahead of schedule on our three day drive to visit the grandchildren in the Phoenix area. Thus, it was convenient to make an afternoon stop a the Petriefied Forest National Park, straddling I-40 in the northeastern part of the State. Here, 250 million years ago, a vast floodplain was crossed by many streams, surrounded by stately conifers, ferns and other plants and inhabited by crocodile-like reptiles, giants amphibians and the occasional dinosauer. Eventually, as the climate and continents changed and moved, a mix of silt, mud and volcanic ash buried logs, cut off oxygen and slowed the logs decay. Thru a complex "substitution" process, they were convered to silica and then quartz. They became logs of stone.

The history of the area was the typical story of discovery, amazement, exploitation, vandalism and eventual preservation of the remains. The rescue of parts of the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest began in 1906 with President Theodore Roosevelt and culminated in 1970 with Congresses approval of the National Park. We took an 18 mile "auto tour" through the Park. Come on along and take a look.....

Ace photographer Barb working The Painted Desert.

Stark, yet majestically beautiful in its own way, is what I thought.........

Investigative Analysis

2011-11-10T05:46:00.004-06:00

See the preceding post for the evidence. Careful analysis of the photograph of the victims injury reveals some important clues. The fact that the injury is located on the back of the leg as opposed to the front or side suggests he was hit from the behind but did not fall. Most revealing however, is the description of the abrasions themselves. They definitely appear to be tread marks. A bicycle tire immediately comes to mind. The medical authority did not report any other injuries so we hypothesize the following: Troutbirder was hit in the back of the leg by an out of control/or inattentive fellow byciclist. He, somehow managed to maintain control and was not flung from his own bike. A common misdemeanor occured, which in the driving world, is known as "tailgating." A highly dangerous habit common to many forms of propulsion......

Troutbirder: "Yes it's true. I was "rear ended" on a steep downgrade. Apparently, I wasn't going fast enough for the speedos who seem to think it's all a race. Another concern is the fact that when I took up biking years ago it was common for people to warn you when approaching or passing from behind. "On your left" or "coming up" were common phrases." No more.....

CSI

2011-11-09T07:34:00.005-06:00

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation is an American crime drama investigation series which premiered on CBS on Oct 6, 2000. Wildly popular around the world, it has drawn as many a 74 million viewers and spun off numerous look alikes. The investigators use physical evidence to solve grisly murders in this unusually graphic drama. The series mixes deduction, gritty subject matter and character-driven drama. Troutbirder, hereby, submits the following photographic (physical) evidence so that you might test your own investigative skills. See if you too can determine the nature and legality of the crime commited. Place your analysis in the comment section.

Case 213 Location - Somwhere between Harmony and Preston in Bluff Country. Trauma - Contusions on the back of Mr. Troutbirders right leg. The victim was later treated by authorized medical personnel. He was released from care with non life threatening injuries. Photograph taken on July 16th 2011.

A Day At The Phoenix Zoo

2011-11-07T06:08:00.011-06:00

Wile E. Coyote

2011-11-02T06:21:00.010-06:00

On our recent visit to my son and his family in Phoenix, Arizona, I had a flashback to the favorite cartoon of my misspent youth. It was The Roadrunner. Due to the kind generosity of Tony’s in-laws, Jack and Barb, we got to stay in their winter home in the Mesa area. Right on fairway number 2 as it were {Sunset view from the patio}

The day in question we had noted the neighborhood was overrun with long eared jack rabbits. They were everywhere. We had also visited a local arboretum with Tony, Kari and the grandchildren . There I managed to add a roadrunner to my "life list" of birds.
Exhausted, we slept in the next day and just as the sun was coming up, I heard a siren going by along with a series of loud howls and yips. This was a familiar scenario because at home my big GSD Baron does this whenever the fire engine goes by. Half awake I thought I was home until Mrs. T poked me in the ribs mumbling "what’s that?" Grabbing my camera I rushed outside on the patio to see a pack of coyotes emerge from between the house and the neighbors. They were headed out onto the golf course, presumably after the ever-present jackrabbits or maybe even an elusive roadrunner. Arizona. There’s some wild things going on down there!

We're Back!

2011-10-29T08:23:00.006-06:00

It's always good to come home but we had a wonderful three weeks visiting our son and his family in Arizona. They had moved from Colorado to new jobs (in education) in the Phoenix area. Specifically Scottsdale and Queen's Creek. On the way down we stopped at The Petrified Forest National Park. Going home it was a detour through the southern Ozarks in Arkansas. Once I get the tons of pictures sorted out......

The desert family from left to right: Kari, Ethan, Tensae, Gramma, Vanessa, Tony & Leonard.

Tony

Photo by Troutbirder

Minnesota In The Fall

2011-10-08T04:04:00.016-06:00

This time of the year I'm reminded every day how Bluff Country in particular and Minnesota in general can be spectacular. Bluff Country is the name we attach to the unglaciated portion of southeastern Minnesota. Having been missed by the glaciers, that flattened and scoured out the many lakes of our state, the topography has been bisected, by its many streams, into deep valleys. Southwestern Wisconsin and northeastern Iowa have a similar landscape. For the fisherman, it's trout stream country with very few lakes. In the fall it comes alive with color. Take a look,,,,, With thanks to my all time favorite.... John Denver
Almost Heaven, Minnesota
Golden Prairies

Blue Green Forests
Father Of Waters
Life is Great here
Older than the valleys
Younger than
Gitche Gumee
Fresher than a breeze.

And may your "Country Roads" be just as beautiful as we enjoy our fall season here in Bluff Country

Troutbirder

Hot Bikin Mama

2011-10-05T06:51:00.003-06:00

I think, perhaps, tomorrow will be our last biking outing for the year. It's been wonderful. I went often this year. By myself, with friends, and most important with Barb (Mrs. T.) Back in the saddle after recent bouts with cancer, gall bladder, and knee replacement surgery. She's one tough cookie. :)

Gophers R.I.P.

2011-10-04T06:20:00.005-06:00

It was a couple of years ago now that I drove down to LaCrescent, Minnesota to attend a fall birding expedition along the Mississippi. It was free, led by a famous birder, and on a Sunday morning. Seemed perfect. Arriving to the meeting place in a Kwik Trip parking lot, I saw about a dozen people standing around. "Morning folks" was my opening remark. "Morning. Beautiful day for birding" was the friendly reply.
A little chit chat soon revealed they were ALL from LaCrosse, Wisconsin, across the river from where we stood. I was already feeling a little outnumbered when one gentlemen wearing Wisconsin Badger outfitting and looking at my Gopher hat and jacket asked "so how did the Gophers do yesterday." Surely they all knew that the Badgers had crushed the Gophers once again in the final game of the Big Ten season. This question, of course, was a set up so I just sadly shook my head. Another "birder" then asked "when was the last time your team was in the Rose Bowl". Taking my hat off to reveal a seriously graying head, placing it over my heart, I owned up to the fact that I had been a freshmen at the University when it last happened. They began to shake their heads in faux amazement until I boldly added it was time to go birding.
Thus it was, last Sunday, after the Michigan Wolverines had handed my Gophers a 58 to 0 shellacking (their worst Big Ten loss ever), that I found myself shovel in hand, calling for Mrs. T to join me in the garden. "Will you sing a Church Song," I asked her while handing over my Gopher hat and jacket. This line harkens back to the time, when during a burial ceremony for our first pet dog, our four year old had made a similar request of his mother. Smirking broadly, she headed off in another direction my hat and jacket still in hand.
Patience is a virtue they say. I’m not feeling very virtuous these days, although my empathy for the long suffering Chicago Cubs fans has grown immeasurably over the years.
The "Little Brown Jug" symbolic of one of college football oldest rivalries going back to the late 1800's. The Gophers have lost 27 of the last 30 games against Michigan. Ouch!

Troutbirder Meets An Angel

2011-10-01T05:37:00.008-06:00

A lone eagle flew over our house yesterday. It’s not uncommon anymore as they have expanded their range inland from the Mississippi in recent decades. Each sighting though reminds me of a friend.
Her name is Angel.
She was injured badly and taken care of at the Raptor Center in the Twin Now she lives at the National Eagle Center along the Mississippi in Wabasha Minn. Four other eagles also live there. Volunteer friends come and take Angel for outings along the river in City Park.There she gets to go splashing in the shallow water along the rivers edge. She loves it
Because of the severity of her injury Angel can't fly anymore. Sometimes, though, her wild cousins land in the trees in the park to visit her. Everyone gets excited when this happens. There are many more eagles now along the river corridor. Being territorial, as river niches are filling, some are moving to nest far inland.Hundreds gather here, in winter, near a chicken farm, when fish are less available. They get the leftovers.
Thousands of people get to see Angel at the Eagle Center. She is a great ambassador for her kind.We were lucky enough to meet her, "up close and personal" during her and our outing in the park. It was one of the best picnics we ever had. Then we had to go home. So did she. What a magnificent creature!

Dubuque Arboretum

2011-09-27T04:15:00.013-06:00

One of our favorite warm weather destinations is a 3 hour jaunt to nearby Dubuque, Iowa. This Mississippi rivertown is located in the northeastern corner of the Hawkeye State. Two attractions there that appeal to us are the Mississippi River Museum and Aquarium and Americas largest Arboretum and Botanical garden maintained entirely by volunteers. Recently, we joined friends Steve and Jewel, to make an early fall visit to the gardens. The gardens are the home of the American Hosta Society and have a huge collection of those favorites. In addition, there are perennial gardens, wildflower and native prairie gardens, an English garden and many other displays. Take a look.

A favorite place to stop on our return to Minnesota is Breitbach's, the oldest restaurant in Iowa. We were saddened to learn last year that the place had been destroyed by fire for the second time. . Rebuilt again, it lies on a ridge overlooking a beautiful valley a few miles west of the Mississippi. A heartwarming story is that, in spite of great financial difficulties, the place was rebuilt with the help of neighbors from the small community of Balltown, Iowa. We had the buffet. It was excellent as always

Tall

2011-09-19T06:00:00.007-06:00

We're from I-O-way, I-O-way. State of all the landJoy on ev-'ry hand. We're from I-O-way, I-O-way.That's where the tall corn grows As the above picture and song indicates, Iowans , living in the heart of the corn belt are rightly proud of their states ability to grow tall and bountiful corn. Not to be outdone, I, as a proud Minnesotan, hereby submit the following pictoral evidence of that States ability to grow tall plants as well. Both pictures were taken on a recent bike trip through the prairie.

Friend and fellow biker Gary, pointing to the top of a Canadian thistle... one of Minnesota's tall growing native plants.

Next, Troutbirder posing in front of a tall growing prarie wildflower. The narrow leafed Sunflower, which had to be about 18 feet tall.

"Minnesota hats off to thee. To our colors, true we shall ever be. Firm and strong united are we. So Rah Rah Rah for Skie U Mah. Rah Rah Fah Rah for the U. Of M......"

Geography Quiz

2011-09-16T08:13:00.008-06:00

We went over to our friends, Steve and Jewels, farmhouse to pick them up and then headed off to Pikes Peak. It’s a fairly long drive from Bluff Country (southeastern Minnesota) but we left early in the morning. We stopped for lunch at a Red Robin before arriving at our destination about 1:30 in the afternoon. From the top we looked out over a vast and beautiful landscape. Take a look.

Later, after dinner at Brietbach’s, the oldest restaurant in the State, we headed home arriving there about 9:00 P.M. the same day.

The test question is "how did we do it in one day?" I’ll give one hint: Yes, it’s true, I did get a speeding ticket ( 73 mph in a 55 mph zone). It’s not a regular practice on my part as this was the first ticket in several decades. There are no prizes for answering the question correctly except for the knowledge that you are in the top tier of American geographers.
Did you know that Iowa has its own Pikes Peak, named after the same explorer, and that theirs was there first? That’s right, as Zebulon Pike was moving westward, he stopped in Iowa, and the place where he viewed the area from a bluff high above the Mississippi River is now named after him. He identified the bluff, about 400 feet above the Father of Water as a good site for a potential fort. Perhaps then it looked like the following painting when he was there. That's the Wisconsin River entering across the valley.

Summer Wildflowers

2011-09-13T12:46:00.025-06:00

As spring passes into summer, the native woodland wildflowers fade into memory. Along the prairie hiking paths and the bike trails, following the old railroad right of ways, I begin to look to look for the wildflowers of summer. Here is a sampling of this years highlights. Narrow leafed (Common)Sunflower

Blazing Star (Liatris)

Purple Coneflower and Butterfly Culvers Root and Fleabane

Blue & Cream Gentian Golden Rod

Rattlesnake Master
White Prairie Clover Wild Phlox

And last but not least, one day Mrs. T and I were cruising some backcountry gravel roads and came across, in the ditch, a patch of very rare (in Minnesota) native Turks Cap Lilies. Some days you gotta just be lucky.

Biking For Bugs

2011-09-10T04:39:00.010-06:00

A few weeks back our friends Gary and Rosie visited for a biking weekend. One of the highlights was doing the beautiful Harmony to Preston section of the Root River Trail. Come on along and take a look! Initially, the paved trail follows a section of rolling hills, with patches of prairie, corn fields and wood lots. As we headed off down the trail there were still some native wildflowers to be seen. Sunflowers of several types were blooming. About half way down the 12 mile trail, we stopped to rest at the top of a steep grade, before plunging into the beautiful valley of Camp Creek. It's one of Bluff Countries best "spring creek" troutstreams. During the rest stop the intrepid bikers spotted a strange insect on the trail. Gary identified it but I've forgotten the name. It's apparent nowadays that many of your outdoor types have gone beyond hiking, biking and birding to new challenges. Identifying butterflies and other "bugs" seem to be among them. I haven't gone down that trail yet. In any case, the next day we headed over to the "Shooting Star" trail. This one cuts through the flat land of corn fields and remnant patches of native priarie along former railroad tracks. There we'll see prairie wildflowers in all their glory. I'll save that story for another post.

Dear God

2011-09-07T06:41:00.007-06:00

Dear God:When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?More meatballs, less spaghetti, please. Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good Dog.
1. I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up
2. I will not roll on dead deer, fish, birds, etc., just because I like the way they smell.
3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.
4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'.
5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.
6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.
7. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'.
8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table .
9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.
10. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.
11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.
12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thingP.S. When I get to Heaven may I have my testicles back?
Signed,

Baron

Early Morning Hike

2011-09-03T04:57:00.010-06:00

We had headed over to Minneopa State Park for a couple of days camping in early summer. It was a great spot but the results left a little to be desired as it rained for two days steady. On the final day, I didn't hear any rain so Baron and I were up at the crack of dawn for a hike. The roads and trails were deserted so we had it all to ourselves. Take a look.....While the landscape was mostly restored prairie, there were occasional clumps of trees and even a few woods. We followed a trail into one looking for eary morning owls. Instead Baron scurried a family of racoons up a dead tree. If it moves he will chase it.... and no he is not a "coon" dog.

Unlike the "North Shore" along Lake Superior, southern Minnesota isn't noted for waterfalls. Minneopa has one though and with all the rain it was quite impressive.
Not quite sure what this structure was all about. By the time we got back to the campground the sun had come out. It was time for breakfast and then the long ride home .

The Osprey

2011-08-26T07:02:00.004-06:00

She is osprey a.k.a. "The Fish Hawk. She ranges over much of North America, wherever lakes and river are to be found. About 3/4 the size of Bald Eagle, her rival and competitor, she out fishes him and does not emulate his willingness to scavenge and steal.
When I was starting up my blog in 2008, I came across the following picture. It gave me the idea I needed for naming my blog. I saw my favorite hobby, flyfishing for trout and my newest one, birding..... thus troutbirder.
She is not very common here on the plains of southern Minnesota nor in the hills and valleys where I live in the southeast corner of the state. The so called "Bluff Country." She can be found amidst the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes and rivers to the north of us. I saw many many of her kind in Florida where she both winters and resides year around. Take a look at this magnificent preditor in action........

Biking With Bill

2011-08-23T17:55:00.008-06:00

A beautiful weekend and brother-in-law Bill is visiting for our annual bike ride. He does forty mile jaunts per day on weekends and during the week puts in an equal amount on his exercycle. I, on the other hand, go biking at most once a week for never more than ten miles. A perfect mismatch you might say!We opted for the trail that follows Camp Creek from Harmony to Preston. It's hilly farm country at first, then mostly woods and pastures. Bill is a point A to point B cover the miles person.

I, on the other hand, like to smell the roses, see the sights, check out the birds, and incidently catch my breath at every opportunity. There he goes speeding along! Unfortunately, for me, the first couple of miles are a long grade uphill. Thank god for my camera. Stopping to check out good camera angles is essential when your huffing and puffing.. I also catch a woodchuck crossing the trail between us. Bill waits patiently for me every half mile or so. The pastoral setting, the fleeting clouds.... what a glorious day. The people that we pass have a big smile and a friendly hello. Everybody knows that it doesn't get any better than this. As we approached the more wooded areas near the creek, wildflowers began to make their appearance. I noticed a plant about two to three feet tall with long spikes of white flowers. I had never seen it before. Checking my Moyle and Moyle, when I got home, it appears to be Praririe Larkspur, a perennial of dry prairies and open hillsides. There were a number of bluebird houses along the trail and soon I noticed their occupants darting about everywhere. Tree swallows and a rose-breasted grosbeak also made their appearance. I wonder if Bill notices any of this?The next interesting plant to catch my eye turned out to be Tall Meadow Rue. Clumps of the white flowers could be seen all along the trail, often reaching more than three feet tall. If there are "lifers" for a native plant list, I had already gained two in less that four miles. I did decide though that next spring this particular trail might be great for picking up migrating song birds, especially warblers
Things were going well. That is till we came to the top of a long steep downgrade. "You go first," says Bill. Off I go cautiiously heading downhill. The view is breathtaking. The valley, through which Camp Creek flows, is one of my favorite places to fish trout. Then I goofed. I'm so out of practice biking I don't dare turn around to see if someone is behind for fear of losing my balance... but I do keep to the right. Some young guy in a speedo outfit, still pedaling downhill and going probably 40 miles per hour, zips by me yelling "ON YOUR LEFT." Okay that's cool. Several more racers continue the process. I figure these young speeders probably come in packs, so a little bit later as several more come by yelling the same warning, I hardly pay them any attention. I'm watching for bluebirds.
Later, at the bottom of the long grade, I pull over to wait for Bill and have a sip of water. And wait. And wait. And wait, maybe ten minutes. Finally, thinking if he had to go behind a bush or something, it shouldn't be taking that long, I start flagging down bikers coming down the hill and asking. "No," they all say they didn't see anybody waiting along the trail. I figure maybe he got sick and went back to the car.... or maybe a heart attack and fell out of sight in the bushes or.... you get the picture. Then, I start pedaling slowly back up the mountain, in the lowest possible "Granny" gear, straining every inch of the way. Reaching the top, I look around....he’s nowhere to be seen . Then finally I see him coming up the hill. "I waited 15 minutes for you," he is yelling. I'm looking totally dumbfounded (emphasizing the dumb part). He says, "you didn't see me pass you by???? Jeez, I even yelled "on your left" when I passed." God. I think maybe I should stick with birdwatching, it's less stressful. Ok..........this sign is the one they should've had for me

Progress

2011-08-20T05:46:00.009-06:00

I grew up on the Eastside in St. Paul. The neighborhood was called Daytons Bluff or The Bluff. Perched, northeast of downtown St. Paul, on the cliffs overlooking the Mississippi, the downtown airport and the busy railroad tracks heading east to Chicago.

We played on those dangerous cliffs, unbeknownst to the mothers, and also in Indian Mounds Park.

I attended Mounds Park elementary school. The same place my father, uncles and aunts had gone to school.

That's me back row 3rd from the left in second grade.

Looking back now it was all rather idylic. How idylic? Well, my mom could safely put me, alone, on the streetcar, to go downtown to meet my Aunt Pearl at the First National Bank, where she worked. Then it was a walk over to The Childrens Room of the St. Paul Public Library. Then a stop a Bridgemans for a malt. It's not too likely a mom would send an 8 year old into the city alone today.
Year round, Indian Mounds Park was the neighborhood playground. In winter, we climbed up to the top of a hill upon which stood, The Beacon Light. Then sledded down two blocks to the bottom. It is the last of its kind still flashing its light every 5 seconds. No longer guiding planes and visitors into the city, it serves as a remember of a bygone era. In memory, I can still see it lighting up my darkened bedroom.

There was a special structure called the Pavilion in the park. When there weren't enough kids for a ball game, we climbed all over it. I don't recall ever seeing people picnic in it but then perhaps I wasn't there during rainstorms. In any case, a neaby fountain provided the water for the waterfights that usually ensued in the pavilion.

Today, respectful signs and fences remind people not to climb the burial mounds as we did. Progress in the realm of cultural sensitivity for sure. But then we were kids in a different age and "Cowboys and Indians" ranked with "Robin Hood" in our list of games.

I ran across the following picture recently of my beloved pavillion. Time marches on........

Visitors From Norway

2011-08-16T16:07:00.012-06:00

Our good friends Gary and Rosie Anderson’s cousins from Norway arrived in Minnesota recently to visit relatives and tour the Gopher State (with a side trip to Wisconsin). They wanted, of course, to see some of the cultural highlights of our State such as The Mall Of America and Target Field. Shopping, a well known American custom was also to be included in the schedule. . The Troutbirders involvement was to arrange a visit to a "real" American farm. Through the graciousness of our neighbors, the Jahn family, our visitors got to see a Corn Belt hog operation.
Eli Sather Bergstuen is the grandmother. Her home is Biristrand, Norway. This is just south of Lillehammer. The parents are Even and Gerd (Eli's daughter) Taraldsrud and children Henrik and Mina. They live on a farm in Biri which is south of Biristrand by a couple of miles. The Lake Mjosa, part of the Mjosa River (like Lake Pepin is part of the Mississippi River) runs from Gjovik, south of Biri, to just north of Biri. The river continues on up past Lillehammer about 25 miles north of Biri.

Gary and Rosie (on the left) brought their visitors to the Mississippi river town of Winona to a family gathering that featured people from all over the United States. Here on Garvin Heights, high above Winona the Norwegians get a look at the broad Mississippi Valley Traveling by light rail, the visitors checked on the Guthrie Theater, Target Field and the Mall of America.

Mrs T. put on an fine dinner, Minnesota style, after the visit to the Jahn farms in the Spring Valley area. Never had they seen so much corn in the fields and the scale of the farming operation definitely made a big impression. Neighbor Rick Jahn provided a 2 hour tour of the facilities and equipment.

Taking a peek at the baby pigs.
Out in the field the guys have to check out the big Cat hauling liquid pig manure. Perhaps the ladies were not quite so impressed.

We began trooping into one of several large machine sheds. The size of a combine was evident by a tire towering over 6'3" Gary. The general impression was... Wow!

We had a great time meeting Gary's Norwegian cousins. Or as Minnesotans are not always accurately portrayed saying in the movie Fargo. Yah sure! You betcha

Baron

2011-08-10T04:14:00.010-06:00

Over the river
and through the woods.

To Mother Natures place we go.

The dog knows the way.

We’re happy today.

Through green and neatly mowed.
Hiking through the woods. With Baron leading the way. O'er the fields we go . Laughing all the way
Bells on the Big Guy ring Making spirits bright What fun it is to laugh and sing A hiking song tonight. Hey!

Over the river and through the woods,Oh, how the wind does blow.The prairie is green. The birds are free. As over the ground we go.Over the river and through the woods To have a full day of play....

The Gateway Inn

2011-08-04T15:51:00.003-06:00

It's a small town cafe. On Saturday morning the breakfast crowd is mostly divided. The men sit at tables pushed together on the north end. The talk is of the weather, farming and the Twins and Vikings. The women are by the window on the west end. I'm not sure what they talk about but their is much laughting. The Troutbirders and their friends, John and Joanne sit together at a middle table. This passes for gender integraton in a small town in the Upper Midwest. The conversation is pleasant and often boisterous. The service is friendly. Sometimes, due to the rush, people jump up, get their own coffee and fill the cups of others at nearby tables. Life goes on....

Minnesota Landscape Arboretum

2011-08-02T04:20:00.014-06:00

The Minnesota Landscape Arboretum is a 1,137-acre horticultural garden located near the Twin Cities. It is part of the University of Minnesota's Department of Horticultural Science in the College of Food, Agricultural and Natural Resource Sciences. It is the Upper Midwest’s/largest public garden.

The arboretum's earliest area was established in 1907 as the Horticultural Research Center, which developed cold-hardy crops such as Haralson and Honeycrisp apples and the Northern Lights azaleas. It is the largest, most diverse, and most complete Horticultural site in the upper Midwest with over 5000 plant varieties.
The arboretum features annual and perennial display gardens, plants developed for northern climates, demonstration gardens and natural areas including woodlands, prairies and marshes. It has many specialized collections of plants, shrubs and trees. The arboretum also includes a library and conservatory, as well as miles of hiking and skiing trails. A three mile (5 km) drive through the arboretum takes visitors past many of the collections. Guided tours are available at extra cost, and may be taken by tram, bus, or on foot. All in all a wonderful place to visit at any time of the year. I love it.
We visited there late last spring with Mrs. T's cousin Joe and wife Mary.

Spring Birding

2011-07-29T06:02:00.016-06:00

This spring wasn’t the greatest for outdoor activities. That is to say, it was cold, dark , rainy and often windy. But the backyard birding was great. I have six different feeders scattered throughout the back yard. Here is the view of three of them from my station on the recliner. There you might find me reading, working a crossword, writing something for this blog or peering over the window sill to see if any new feathered friends have arrived for lunch. Take a look.
Indigo Bunting & Northern Oriole
From left to right - Indigo Bunting Hairy Woodpecker Chipping Sparrow Goldfinch Female Rose Breasted Grosbeak

Swainsons Thrush & Indigo Bunting

Downy Woodpecker & Rose Breasted Grosbeak

Blue Jay

Hairy Woodpecker

Catbird

Of course, there are always the ground feeders like this white throated sparrow hanging around too. It's quite a show and these pictures show only part of it.

Irises

2011-07-26T10:48:00.017-06:00

Surrounded by large oak trees, my gardens don't allow for sunshine needing plants like hybrid roses. etc. So I mostly have woodland wildflowers scattered throughout the landscape. Of course it's not all wildflowers as exceptions are made for for plants like hostas, which Mrs T dearly loves. One of my favorites, which I try to grow in spite of the less than perfect conditions, are irises. Oh the color! Take a look.

One thing I've noticed though, as the new hybrids become more colorful, bigger and taller, some have a tendency to fall over in the first wind. Fortunately, they still make great cut flowers.

Midsummer Prairie Flowers

2011-07-17T05:30:00.018-06:00

It's been very hot and humid here in Bluff Country the last few weeks, so Baron and I have been starting our nature hikes earlier and earlier in the morning. Last week we headed out a half hour west onto the flat land of the tall grass (Big Bluestem prairie) at Lake Louise State Park. We parked near the swimming beach and campground. Sad to say, the campground was closed, as the shutdown of all so called "non essential services" excepting things like fire, police & legislators pay was in effect in our state government. Not good, but for the big guy and me it meant we had a state park all to ourselves.
Baron led the way, across the trail bridge over the Little Iowa River and then we headed through the woods to the Shooting Star Bike Trail. Here the vista opened up as we crossed a remnant of prairie that once long ago stretched all the way to the Rocky Mountains. Come on along and enjoy. Click on pics for a closer look.

The neat thing about all of this is that from now until November the colorfull palette changes as new flowers and different combination make their appearance. I'll go back often to watch this amazing show!

Bull Run at Wasioja Civil War Days - Part III

2011-07-10T04:13:00.021-06:00

It was the sound of martial music that drew me away from the displays toward the north end of the encampments.
I follwed the band up the muddy road towards the battlefield which was situated near a farmstead along a sloping oak woods and pasture. There a long series of grandstands stood facing the field and a roped off area with a sign that said "civilians do not cross." We found a seat among the crowd....

Directly in front of us, peering over the top of unbrellas, I could see a worried looking farm family gathered on the front lawn. They were talking to a Union officer who was pointing to the edge of the woods. A drizzle was beginning to fall. The sky was darkening ominously.

Shortly thereafter, I noticed on the ridge to the left, Confederate artillery began to appear. Two rebel officers stopped in front of us and began looking to the pasture where the Federal troops were gathering. On the hill another officer held his arm aloft, dropped it and a tremendous roar ensued. Everyone started and the line of cannon disappeared in a flash of flame and billowing smoke.

The Federal artillery responded in kind and an exchange continued for some time as the boys in blue marching abreast slowly began to move up toward the woods firing as they came. Soon the whole battlefield was covered with smoke and the darkening skies unleased buckets of rain upon all. Without a raincoat or umbella ( a lady next to Mrs. T was sharing hers), I was soon soaked to the skin. My intitial thought was that if the soldiers could keep going, I as a patriotic citizen, could do no less. When the shivering set in there were second thoughts on that point. In historical fact, when the Federal army began to be pushed back at Bull Run, a retreat turned into a rout and the vast crowds of gawkers from Washington fled in terror, clogging the roads back to the capitol and adding to the general misery. I decided to follow that historical precident and soon joined the long line of people heading back to the campground and buses.
Along the way we went passed the surgeon's tent where the horrible evidence of the cost of such battles was evident.
It was then that I heard my name being called. Two battlefield angels of mercy, Sharon and Mary Jo, had spotted my soaked and shivering self and sheltered me under a canvas and brought me a steaming hot cup of coffee. Mrs T soon joined us and we decided, in spite of the rainy afternoon, it had been a wonderful day revisiting the past at Wasiojas "Civil War Days" some 150 years after the actural events.
"Angels of the Battlefield" Sharon & Mary Jo

Wasioja: Civil War Days - Part II

2011-07-05T04:58:00.013-06:00

It was Saturday June 25th and the Troutbirders, along with Sharon and Mary Jo were heading back in time. They were on their way to Civil War Days in Wasioja, Minnesota. Wasioja was a small but vital town, whose future had been blighted, when much of its youth had been killed in a heroic stand at the battle of Chickamauga . The date was Sept. 20, 1863.
For this first time event, with battle reenactments, three clashes were scheduled. Friday: Chickamauga, Saturday: Bull Run, Sunday: the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse. Although the forecast this day was for partly cloudy with a slight chance of late afternoon showers, the dark overcast skies early that morning, did not augur well for staying dry. But, optimist that I am, I expected the best for ourselves and the Union troops who would meet the Rebels later that day near the Virginia town of Manassas. We were there early so things were just beginning to stir. Lets take a look...... Various ladies in groups and individually were preparing meals in the encampment area. I stopped to talk to several.
Troutbirder: "So ladies would you mind if I took your photograph?"
Wives: "No. No. Not at all. Do we have to hold perfectly still and not even breathe.?"
Troutbirder: "It’s not a problem with this camera. . Just smile."
Having broken the ice, they proved to be very friendly as I asked them why they were there. The answer involved their husbands, their interest in the conflict and the opportunity to visit new places and meet new friends. Many had been attending reenactments all over the midwest and some even further away.
I used a similar approach with the soldiers themselves. I approached some boys in blue, which led to the following exchange after having obtained permission to take their picture. Remember now, later in the day the Battle of Bull Run was to be portrayed.
Troutbirder: So you boys surely aren’t expecting much of a contest with those scattermuffin rebs today are you?"
Soldiers in blue uniforms: "We’re from Virginia. 32nd Fairfax Militia."
Troutbirder. "Oh Oh." It seems that early in the war neither side was totally standardized when it came to the color of uniforms.
I wandered over to where a large crowd had gathered to hear a speech. It turned out to be the tall man with the top hat and his wife Mary. He spoke of the difficult task ahead and what had to be done to preserve the Union. The audience didn’t applaud much, but in the spirit of things seemed to be listening very closely. When push comes to shove and it now apparently has, I believe most of the people of the brand new state of Minnesota will stand with this man from Illinois.
As the noon hour approached the crowds grew larger and larger. I met a number of people on their way to the battle site. Sad to say, there was almost a festive atmosphere. The general attitude seemed to be that the war would be a short one because most everyone believed one side or the other wasn’t all that serious or even capable of fighting.
Troutbirder: "So are you gentlemen following the troops?"
Two Senators: "Yes. Indeed. On to Richmond we say. The traitors will scatter like chaff in the wind. You can count on it!"
Troutbirder: "Ladies. What’s the occasion?"

Camp followers: "We’re on our way to a picnic. We hope to catch a sight of those Zouaves from New York. They're soooo dashing in those red uniforms."
Meanwhile Mrs. T was visiting the southern encampment and I was drawn to the sound of music coming from a nearby tent
Oops not that one. This one.

Then the sound of cannon fire drew me to a nearby hillside. The battle of Bull Run had begun. Next in Part III.

The Civil War: Wasioja, Minnesota Part I

2011-06-30T15:52:00.009-06:00

We had been out for a ride that afternoon. Visited a few state parks. Then we headed for Rochester for some "essential" shopping, according to Mrs. T. Rather than hurry there on the four lane highway, I took some back country roads. Your never know what you might come across. That's where I saw it. The sign pointed ahead to Wasioja. I remembered that name but for what?
It wasn't really a town. Just a few scattered homes from the 1950's. A few nearby farms. And a nondescript business. Then, I began to notice a some limestone buildings obviously from the 19th century.This home, for example built in 1858.
Then as we drove around a bit, I saw a sign in front of another small limestone building. When the Civil War began in 1861, Minnesota was the first state to offer and send troops to aid the Union cause. In April 1861, this building, which had been built as a law office and community meeting center in 1855 for the village, became a recruiting station. Recruits from the Wasioja station numbering over 200 formed the nucleus of Company C of the 2nd Minnesota Volunteer Infantry Regiment. The building was Colonel James George's, a Mexican war veteran, law office who later led the volunteers at the Battle of Chickamauga.That was it. The Civil War. But what was it about this town and the Civil War that was buried someplace in my memory? Our next stop, on a wooded hillside told the story. As we approached, I was reminded of a famous photograph of the ruins of Richmond, Virginia at the end of the Civil War.
This was the Wasioja Seminary. And no, it hadn't been blasted to ruins by Confederate artillery. Some time after the Civil War it had been destroyed in a fire.

It does speak, however, to a time when Wasioja was a live and vital village. Anxious to promote the growth of the new town it citizens agreed to provide the Free Will Baptists a seminary. A structure of native limestone was completed in 1860. The seminary opened in that year with an enrollment of over 300 students. By 1862 Wasioja had more than a dozen stores, a hotel, a flour mill and was surrounded by farms and quarries that promised a great future.
Then the course of history was changed. The Civil War had begun and men from Minnesota were on the battlefields. Colonel George asked for volunteers. Led by Professor Gilley, many young students and others marched down to the law office and enlisted. Just over a year later, on Snodgrass Hill, near Chickamauga, they stopped the Rebels advance at a very high cost. Of the eighty young men who left Wasioja only twenty-five returned with life and limb intact. The town never recovered from the loss
Wasioja and its people paid in the coin of their future, by standing for Union and against the immorality of slavery.

A few years after that visit, I read in the Rochester, Mn newspaper that the "Friends of Wasioja" were holding the first Civil War Days in the little crossroads town. Thousands of visitors were expected for the three day event. Their would be speeches, recreated battles with cannons and reenactors, dress up balls and lots more. Mrs T and I decided to attend and I'll tell you all about it....... In Part II next.

Montana Flyfishing & The Big Hole River

2011-06-23T16:36:00.008-06:00

I first visited "Big Sky Country" in the mid 50's camping with my parents. We visited Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks. I was particularly enthralled by Yellowstone’s thermal activities and wild creatures. Later my wife and I revisited these places on camping trips into the Rockies. We often returned there with our young sons.
Living as we did in a small town in Minnesota without any fishing lakes, I took up the art of Fly-fishing in our many limestone spring creeks. This new hobby was to cause a big turn in my perception of Montana. It became not just a camping tourist venue but the "Mecca" of my trout fishing dreams.
It all began with an invitation from one of my brothers to join him on a mid-summer scouting expedition for fall elk hunting with his bow. Being occupied with teaching during the fall, I had no interest in that particular sport. I did realize, however, that this would be a golden opportunity to check out Montana’s fabled "blue ribbon" trout streams. What a two week adventure we had! I was hooked every bit as much as the trout we caught and the back country we visited.
As my sons grew into manhood, we began to make regular summer fishing trips to southwester Montana as well a canoe trips into Minnesota’s Boundary Water Wilderness.
Some of our favorite Montana places were The Boulder River south of Big Timber, Hyalite Creek, the Gallatin River and Swan Creek all south of Bozeman, the West Fork of the Madison River, Sam Billings campground on Boulder Creek a small tributary of the Bitterroot River, and the Missouri River below Holter Dam.

There was one river we always returned to fish no matter our time schedule. It was the Big Hole.
College professor, environmental activist, author and blogger Pat Munday writes about the Big Hole in his book Montana’s Last Best River: The Big Hole and its People. Here he tells the story of a beautiful valley and stream through the eyes and experiences of the people who lived there. Among others were the Indians, miners, homesteaders and ranchers. The breathtaking beauty of the place is superbly illustrated with a series of great photographs. The book is much more than a pretty "coffee table" book of pretty pictures. The conflicts of culture change and land usage are not glossed over from past to present. The author emphasizes an emerging consensus towards cooperation that would reflect Aldo Leopolds vision of a land ethic. If that proves to be true there is hope indeed that this treasure of a river will survive to enchant future fathers, sons and daughters with a love of the great outdoors.
I can still see my eldest son Ted leaning forward midstream in the Big Hole, casting with a beautiful rhythmic motion to trout rising to the fly. Memories like that were brought to mind when author/blogger Pat Munday gifted me with his book about The Big Hole. Ted is in a better place now but I’m sure he is still smiling as he catches those big ones.
I met Pat through his blog Ecorover. There you can see southwestern Montana in all its splendor. Here is the link: - check it out and say hello..... http://ecorover.blogspot.com/

The Twins

2011-06-18T13:50:00.006-06:00

We headed up to the Mall of America a few days ago.

To go shopping? Me? Are you kidding? To go for a ride on the Light Rail to downtown Minneapolis.

To go shopping? No! We’ve been over that point. To go to Target Field to watch the Twins take on the Pale Hose.

I thought you gave up on them ye of little faith. I did. Face it after 7 of their starting players were out on the disabled list and they were 16 ½ games behind Cleveland near the end of May, it looked hopeless.
So you gave up and..... And they’ve won 12 of the last fourteen games and are now only 8 behind Tigers for the lead. Plus our big boppers are coming back. Things are looking up..So how was the game? Blackburn bested Buehrle 1-zip for the win.
"We gonna win Twins. We’re gonna score. Watch that baseball soar....."

Ok. I confess. Mrs. T. is correct. I'm a "fair weather fan." When things are going good or looking up I'm 100% on the band wagon. :)

The Dynamic Duo

2011-06-16T06:31:00.003-06:00

New Housing

2011-06-13T05:02:00.004-06:00

The current economic doldrums were, in part, initially caused by ancollapse of the housing market. This, in turn, was caused by an unsecured home mortgage scam. Baron and I went for a hike yesterday to see if there were any signs of recovery. A trip through a fine wooded area did show some definite signs of new housing.

Mr. and Mrs. Pileated T Woodpecker are the proud new residents.

Spring Biking

2011-06-08T14:10:00.018-06:00

With the crummy weather this spring the biking got a late start. The first two outings were lots of fun though and quite the contrast. An offer to join John & Joanne’s eldest daughter Janelle and family was too good to pass up. Getting ready for "all aboard" the gang is getting ready for Carl to tow baby downhill 10 miles to Lanesboro. Starting at Fountain all you have to do is push off and coast about halfway there. Thats why I like this kind of run for starting out in the spring. The people passing you in the opposite direction are mostly young, some bearded, wearing tight spandex outfits and all with a very determined look on their faces. Oh and the fact is they are all going faster up the steep hill than I feel safe coasting down it.

My next ride, a week later, was a whole different ball game. Mrs. T dropped me off at the burgeoning town of Tiopi (population under 50). Here I would head 12 miles east to LeRoy State Park against a 25 mile an hour headwind. It felt like I was pedaling uphill all the way. The trail was basically flat and open to the wind. My strategy was basically "slow and steady wins the race." In other words, I just hoped to meet my spouse at the park without having to call her on the cell phone to come and rescue me from total exhaustion. It worked.......
Follow the shadow and he'll show you the route.

The trail basically was an old railroad bed. Thus some brush and trees on either side sheltered me slightly from the wind. The track was mostly straight as an arrow. It seemed a long way to my destination.

In the distance, on either side of the trail, I could see farmsteads and the emerging corn trailing off into the distance.

This trail is known as the Shooting Star Trail. In the late summer and fall, it is a surrounded by an amazing variety of native prairie plants, all abloom. In late spring, I didn't expect to see much but kept my eyes open nevertheless. Sure enough some dames rockets appeared around a bend beneath a small grove of oak trees. Later I spied the brilliant orange of some pucoons.

I was also keeping watch for birds but here I expected the high winds to keep them hunkered down. I did manage though to spot some dickcissels along the way. Somehow they always seem to look like miniature meadowlarks. But can they sing!

I also spotted a flooded field and took a careful look for some shore birds. They are rarely seen in the glaciated areas of southeastern Minnesota because lakes and untiled fields are few and far between. Then I spotted a few on the far side. Can you see them???? Just kidding I couldn't tell what they were even with my binoculars. Inching carefully up the trail I did get a few shots. Some kind of very small sandpipers methinks. Jeepers Creepers just little Peepers.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the ride. There's lot of different trails in this area. Maybe we can go again sometime.

The Toilet Crises

2011-06-03T06:00:00.008-06:00

As everyone knows the early years of marriage usually require some adjustments and compromises. Facing and fixing a mechanical crises for first time homeowners can be one of them.

A clogged toilet is a case in point. In the days before equal rights for women had clearly taken hold it was definitely a "mans job." Mrs. T was "volunteered" as assitant and gopher. After much ado, she consented grudgingly. Further frustration and poor results followed the inexpert use of the plunger. The toilet plunger that is.... Loud voices were heard. Finally an ultimatum. "I'm going to call a plumber," she cried. I was humiliated.
The plumber arrived several days later (they are an independent lot). He was brandishing a "snake."
"That does the trick," he reported and left behind a large bill. Things were fine for a couple of days and then the problem reappeared. Although not recommended for septic systems, I resorted to extreme chemical measures.It had no effect whatsoever.
Mr Plumber was again called to the rescue. "My hero," seemed to be Mrs T's response. Yuk!!! Three days later.... again failure. This whole scenario was really starting to bug me. Fortunately, I took it out on the toilet. I called on a teaching comrade, who happened to be the handyman type as well as the physics teacher. He explained the mechanics of the thing and advised taking it apart.
I removed the toilet and set it in the bathtub. Yes.... the bathtub. Then I picked it up and turned it upside down. Some water came out and I also heard a "clink." Harking back to my childhood I remembered shaking my piggybank. "Aha... I've got a giant piggybank here," I thought. Much turning, twisting and shaking followed, until finally out came a toothbrush.

Dumbfounded, I then made a serious mistake. I yelled, in a not too friendly manner at my bride, lurking skeptically in the background. "HAVE YOU BEEN BRUSHING YOUR TEETH IN THE TOILET?" We obviously survived that misadventure. It wasn't until years later though I learned that a bucket of soapy water and toothbrush had been used to clean some tile in the kitchen. Toothbrush forgotten and water poured in the toilet.
Marital cooperation is always best but sometimes it can be a struggle......

Spring Lifers

2011-06-01T05:03:00.002-06:00

A cold, wet, & windy spring didn't improve my attitude till the following "lifers" showed up in May. Big surprises all, they included a white winged scoter, a glossy ibis, a black billed cuckoo, several warblers and while having diner at Steve and Jewels, a Harris sparrow on the lawn. Entering my fourth year of "serious" birding, new ones are getting harder and harder to come across.

Photo by Steve G.

Stocking Up On Vitamin C

2011-05-29T10:17:00.011-06:00

I put the orange halves on the oak tree. I walked up on the deck. I turned around to look. There they were. The first orioles of spring.
Inspired by our friends Steve & Jewel, I then decided to upgrade the quality of our stale big box store black sunflower offerings to include finch food, nuts, dried fruit, sugar water for the orioles and hummings birds, homemade plugs for the suet feeder with lard, oatmeal, raisins & other secret ingredients the ladies (Jewel and Mrs. T) threw into the mix. Here are some of the results.

From left to right. Indigo bunting, downy woodpecker, chipping sparrow, gold finch & female rose-breasted grosbeak.

Brown Thrasher

Catbird

Indigo bunting, male northern oriole
Swainsons Thrush

In addition, this spring, we also saw at the feeders, the usual bluejays, northern flickers, yellow bellied sapsuckers, hummingbirds, chickadees,robins, white throated sparrows, juncos, northern cardinals, grackels, & starlings but alas no bluebirds yet. To see waterfowl, warblers and other songbirds I've got to go futher afield.

Feeder watching in the spring.... what fun!

Touch The Sky Prairie

2011-05-24T04:53:00.007-06:00

To many, it is simply known as "the prairie." A landscape where the eye can see the horizon, and thunderstorms can be watched from infancy to fury. It is America's breadbasket, its corn belt, and its duck factory; a place of hard work, strong families, and civic pride.
The original Tallgrass Prairie is mostly gone now, with only one-tenth of one percent remaining. Our challenge is to save, and restore remnant portions of the remaining Tallgrass Prairie. A good friend of mine, Mr Science, has already restored 2 acres of his property. So have countless others.

On a larger scale The Northern Wetland National Wildlife Refuge was established in 1999 to preserve 77,000 acres of native prairie and buffer lands at widespread locations within the historic northern tallgrass prairie region of western Minnesota and northwestern Iowa. The refuge was established to address the loss of America's grasslands and mounting evidence indicating that many grassland species are vanishing as fast as the prairies that support them.
A recent camping/birding trip brought us and our good friends Gary and Rose to Blue Mounds State Park near Luverne, Minnesota. This beautiful site lies in the far southwestern portion of the state near the South Dakota border. Here, were spent several days exploring the native prairie and wildlife areas. We also took the opportunity to visit the gallery in Luverne of world famous wildlife photographer Jim Brandenberg. It was there the we learned of the efforts of his foundation to preserve this preserve the small remnants of the now rare prairie ecosystems. The Northern Wetland National Wildlife Refuge provides the means for private groups and individuals to support the cause of preservation. . The Brandenburg Prairie Foundation, along with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, have purchased over 800 acres of untilled prairie land in Rock County, Minnesota creating the "Touch the Sky Northern Tallgrass Prairie National Wildlife Refuge." Together, they have developed a 15-year management plan for its restoration. With time and continued effort, hundreds of native species will return – the tall grasses, the songbirds, flora and native wildlife. Their dream is to see the bison roaming "Touch the Sky Prairie" again.
Troutbirder & Rosie. Photos by Gary
Take a look.

By late summer this land and others like it will be ablaze with native prairie wildflowers. Blazing Star (liatris), New England Asters and countless others. The Blue Stem grasses will reach upward of 5 feet to the horizon. Perhaps someday buffalo and even prairie grizzley bears and... wait cancel that last one. Might be a little tough on birders since there a few trees to climb up for safety.

Bluebell Dog

2011-05-17T16:04:00.015-06:00

Hi! My name is Baron. I'm the offcial guard dog and the unofficial greeter & tour guide here on Oak Hill. The boss went into town and should be back shortly. Come on up the driveway. I can't go out there cause of this "invisible fence" thing which give me a tingle if I try to cross the property line onto the road.

You can just follow me up the red path. They put that red stuff in here last week. I don't get it because the grass was easier on my paws. People do strange things.

Watch your step. That little plant is a trillium. The boss likes to show it off to the neighbors cause the flowers are above the leaves. The ones that grow in the woods around here are more bashful. The white flowers are hidden underneath. He found it in northern Wisconsin. Figures.....

I got in trouble for laying down in this blue stuff. The then he started calling me his "bluebell" dog. I'm no pansy.

These umbrella looking things are called mayapples. I looked. No apples that I could find.

Speaking of apples this is where he throws the rotten ones and tomatoes etc. I have no idea why The Trout Man saves that kind of stuff.

Say maybe you'd like to sit a bit? This is the "birds and blooms" bench. They said they saw a catbird last week. I keep and eye out for the real thing. The neighbors cats. Somebody has got to keep those troublemakers off our property.

I like this area. It's where they eat outside sometimes. I don't understand though why they put good meat on a stick and then char it over a fire. I get the leftovers though so it's not all bad.

Wait a minute. I hear the bosses truck in the driveway. Let's go see. Maybe we can go for a hike

Repeat Repeat Repeat.

2011-05-13T12:31:00.012-06:00

I'm wondering if it was a system wide malfunction as I lost my last post and so did my daughter in law???? I so look forward to the comments and their gone too...... oh well. I'll try again.

Since I gave up bird hunting (with a 12 gauge) due to a bum knee some years ago (now replaced) and took up birding due to the necessity of walking a large GSD...... I’ve been very lucky.

Birding has encouraged me to visit new places like State Parks and refuges.
Also new states like Florida. And met new and interesting people, like top ten Minnesota birder John Hockema. To top it off, this past month has brought some amazing bird sightings thanks to John and my birding mentor "Mr Science," Gary Erickson.
Here’s the story. I joined a state birding society called the M.O.U. (Minnesota Ornithological Union). They provide lots of information through their magazines and website. You can report your sightings and get a daily report on recent sighting by other Minnesota birders. You can check to see statewide and individual county descriptions as to whether a particular bird is common, occasional, unusual, rare or never been seen before. In May I got to see two birds that had never been seen before in my southeastern Minnesota county. The first was a white-winged Scoter who wandered in lost from the Pacific Northwest and beyond. The second was a Glossy Ibis whose northernmost range is in Florida. Even more amazing both birds were spotted several weeks apart by John on the same nondescript farm pond about 20 miles from where I live. I guess the moral is it pays to be lucky and have really good birding friends....

The White-Winged Scoter

The Glossy Ibis. Photo by Bob Ekblad.

The Vegetable Garden

2011-05-10T04:24:00.011-06:00

It’s been some forty plus years since we left the confines of civilization in the big city to move into the wilderness of southern Minnesota as pioneer teachers and homesteaders. Under those circumstances, we quickly adopted the now trendy lifestyle known as "Frugal Living." This, of course, was in the days before Martha Stewart showed people how to do it.
We did manage to purchase our Little House On The Prairie next to the Big Woods and intent on establishing the means to support a family, I began clearing a plot of gooseberries, prickly ash, and crabgrass. All this was done with a hand axe and spade. The ultimate goal was a large vegetable garden. I had to learn the business from scratch, never having gardened before. Ultimately, a seasonal rotation was successfully developed, as I learned how to turn the soil with my trusty spade, plant, weed and harvest. Then I added a compost bin and also took up flower gardening.

Thirty years later, when in hopes of a more "senior friendly" abode, we built a new home, in the woods next door, I carried on with the gardening.

By this time, without the need for a large vegetable garden and tired of the constant weeding needed to make it work, I was ready to give it up and just stick to the flowers. Besides the shady woods, where we now lived, wasn’t really conducive to growing vegetables. Mrs T explained the problem to our neighbors and they came to the "rescue" by volunteering a portion of their adjacent cornfield for our use. I shouldered on.......
This year entering my seventieth decade I decided the time had come to retire from the tomato and carrot business once and for all. It seemed to me that the nearby farmers markets would serve what need we had for fresh fruits and vegetables and the fact that the Amish ladies had fresh pies for sale didn’t hurt either. I announced my final retirement. It was then that she (Mrs T.) claimed she would do the vegetable gardening herself. This, even after I pointed the back breaking labor involved with tilling and endless weeding requirements. Finally, I said I would serve only in a consultative capacity.... no physical labor to be provided on my part. I was worried she couldn’t handle it the strain.
So it was to my great surprise last week, when I heard some noise beyond the backyard and left my difficult computer chores to go and see what was going on. Here is how my ever resourceful wife, approached the backbreaking, getting the soil prepared for planting, part of vegetable gardening.... with the help of our kindly corn farming neighbors.....

Preparing the soil and fertilizing all in one operation....
She also asked me about something for weed removal called Roundup. Or her more likely plan is to replace all the carpet in the house, due to my GSD (German Shedding Dog. Then use it to carpet the rows in the garden so the weeds can't come up. Yup, I think she’s going to make a go of it......

Bird Feeding Perspectives

2011-05-05T04:03:00.009-06:00

It seems an old dog can indeed learn new tricks. Our good friends, Steve and Jewel, have recently taken up bird feeding at their beautifully renovated farmstead in Fillmore County, Minnesota. (Here pictured on our trip to France.)

Now while birding with binocs in hand and tramping in the woods with my GSD Baron is a relatively new activity for me..... birding feeding is not. That I've been doing for decades. So when Mrs T & Jewel came back from a visit to a local bird store with lots of fresh seed, I wasn't too impressed. I've been getting that stuff at the big box store a lot cheaper, I thought. The result though was a lot more winter birds at my backyard feeders. Mmmmmm.
So when Steve and Jewel added a bird bath and mealworms to their "attractors," I was paying attention. Particulary after the following pictures were sent showing bluebirds and rose breasted grosbeaks right outside their dining room window. This was before anyone else was reporting these birds in our area. Mmmmmm.

Not being entirely a slow learner, I followed suit with the rehyrated meal worms. Yesterday, a first at my feeder. A warbler was sitting their with the chickadees and nuthatches wolfing down the new delicacy. It was a "butter butt" i.e. a Yellow Rumped Warbler.

This old dog had indeed learned some new tricks.....

Spring Wildflowers

2011-05-01T05:53:00.014-06:00

Ten years ago, tired of the tuck-under garage and the many steps up from the basement to the living area, we decided to build a new house 100 yards to the north in our two acre woods. As the inexperienced 3rd man, on the three man building team, I worked 10 hour shifts, much of it as a "gopher." In addition, in the evenings, I took on the job of saving some of the many plants surrounding our old house. A trench was dug to run a water line from the new well to the old house to mitigate the nitrate problem. In the process, a huge number of limestone rocks were dug up. .I decided that rather than return the rock to the trench, I would use them to build a retaining wall and lay out garden paths throughout the woods on the south side of the new house. Ouch... my aching back.
Year One: limestone pathways, some ground up branches from the city "tree dump", plant rescue from the old property (the new owners were not interested in gardening) , some grubbing of gooseberrys and prickly ash.
Year Two: more grubbing and selective weeding, trying to preserve wildflowers and shrubs, planting hostas and ferns donated by a kindly neighbor.Year Three: Wildflower seeding and intensive weeding plus more planting of nursery stock.Year Four: Read several books on eco-friendly self-sustaining shady gardens. More intensive weeding and additional planting.
Year Five - Although each year would require a little extra fine turning, the north Shady Garden was a success. Many visitors from town and "groups" from various organizations have requested tours. Fortunately, the garden speaks for itself as "senior moments" seems to strike me when I am asked what a particular native plant is called. I have never been too focused on names like I should have been. If I like something I plant it. It's the impulse method rather than the carefully designed and coordinated plan but I'm happy with the result. Since then I've added new gardens to the north (more woods) and the west, semi shade with afternoon sun.
Some of the native spring wild flowers now living in the shady south garden ........

Wallpaper

2011-04-27T09:43:00.006-06:00

I got the boat out of storage and put it in the garage the other day. Today, it's raining and cold again. I put this guy on my computer wallpaper as a reminder to get the boat cleaned up and ready to go. It's fishing opener in a couple of weeks for Minnesota's inland ten thousand+ lakes.
P.S. That's a Big Mantrap lake northern. Baron tried to lick him before he was released. Not a safe idea. :) I'll be back there next fall.

2011-04-26T05:18:00.004-06:00

As a rookie birder, a couple of spring ago, I was heading to the old iron mine ponds for a hike with my GSD. On the way, I had noticed a "Minimum Maintenance" road I had not driven down for years. It was very narrow, dark, and heavily wooded. A hawk flushed out in front of me and landed several hundred yards down the road on an overhanging branch. I edged ahead. The bird never moved. I stopped and put the binocs on him.
At this point, I must interject a note that in my new birding hobby I was I only confident in identifying the ubiquitous red-tail and the northern Harrier. Harriers because of their penchant for twisting and turning low above the prairie.
I knew right away it wasn't a red-tail. It seemed considerably smaller, I thought. Then I noticed the white tail band. I moved the truck closer yet. Time for the Peterson field guide. There it was. A Broad-Winged Hawk.
"Forest hunter. Rather tame. White band on tail" my field guide claimed .
Millions of birders could, no doubt, have made this identification on sight alone. But for me it was a first. You gotta love it. I then knew three hawks. It was a start. Since then I’ve added a few more hawks and even a falcon or two....

Eagle Parenting

2011-04-23T08:43:00.003-06:00

Just to the south of us lies Decorah, Iowa. A small college town (Luther) with a Norweigian heritage and museum. They also have a live webcam there, which has in the last few weeks had over 40 million hits.

The big attraction. An eagle family doing its thing. Like many others, I've been mesmerized by watching it. Last week, I saw one of the parents (they take turns) pushing her little fuzz balls onto a cup of grass in the center of of the huge nest. The she/he settled slowly and carefully over them finally spreading her wings. What this all about I wondered. A few minutes later a strong wind came up followed by rain & sleet and finally snow. She knew.... and was ready.

If haven't already seen the amazing eagle family of Decorah, Iowa..... check it out at the following link. Give it a few seconds to "load."

http://www.ustream.tv/decoraheagles

Surprise!

2011-04-21T06:58:00.010-06:00

When the temperature hit 80 degress last week I knew it was time to get out of my long winters nap. Time to get the camper ready for summer outings, clean out the garage, rake the flower bed, pump up the bicycle tires, pick up sticks in the yard, change the oil in the garden tractor, wash the truck etc. etc. So earlier this week when I got up to get going and looked out the window. Oh #$%^&*.........

How about a snow picnic? Grrrrrrr.

Roller Coaster

2011-04-18T04:59:00.015-06:00

We went up. Then we went down. Then back up again. It was all for a spring wildflower and birding hike at Forestville State Park. It's unglaciated Bluff Country here, with hills and steep ravines, above the beautiful Root River Valley. It's also a favorite trout fishing destination for me but not today, as I'm carrying my point and shoot camera. I followed Baron up and down the trail.

From the "fisherman's parking lot," we crossed the freshly burned prairie on the way to the hills and then began a long climb up to the south ridge. Our DNR burns prairie land in state parks, every couple of years, to rejuvenate things and keep them from being overrun by scrub trees. There was a spring & rivulet coming down the ravine and a foundation in the woods. It apparently was the remains of an old distillery, circa the Civil War era. Ghosts in these woods, I believe.

The long trail up the ravine leads eventually to the horse camp. Not wishing to go there, I checked my map and turned east along a new trail to me called the "Fern Loop." It inititally followed below an east/west ridgeline yet was still high above the valley floor. It just might be the place to see those first spring wildflowers..... Sure enough it was. The hillside above and below me was covered with thousands of hepatica.

Searching for the first wildflowers of the year is one of the highlights of early spring. In eastern North America, one of the most delightful early blooming species is hepatica (Hepatica nobilis). Its bright blue, white, or pink flowers warm the hearts of all who see them, as they shimmer in the rays of sunshine that reaches the forest floor thru the branches of the leafless trees of earliest springtime.

The hillsides have many "seeps". Not exactly springs but where a trickle of water keeps the ground wet and soggy. This is the favorite habitat of skunk cabbage and marsh marigolds. They are also early spring wildflowers.

The woods is also coming alive with the spring migrants. I see lots of Hermit Thrushes, and few Ruby Crowned Kinglets and Eastern Phoebes. They all move too quickly and far away though for my point and shoot so I stick with photography the cooperative wildflowers. Baron seems to have learned though when my binoculars are up, its time to stop and wait for me to catch up. I'm always watching for movement in the woods. On one occasion, as we came down into a small creek bed, I caught some movement in a woodpile up ahead. Half hidden it peered intently at me as stared back. "That's one big coyote," was my first thought. I've always been skeptical of most wolves being reported this far south in Minnesota. "Get your camera out dummy," & I did. I motioned Baron to my side, not wanting him to chase anything so big and wary looking.

It was the wrong color for a gray wolf but still acted very wild. Some people foolishly raise wolf/dog hybrids but he disappeared into the brush so I'll never know....

Baron and I continued on our way having been on the trail for over three hours. He often would stop and wait for me as if to say "come on boss you're slowing down." Another half hour and we were back to the truck. Well, I've got quite a few years on him at that. In any case, we'll both sleep soundly tonight

Silly Troutbirder

2011-04-14T06:17:00.013-06:00

At a loss for something intelligent to post this morning, I’m left with repeating an incoherent one from a couple of springs ago. Hang in there with me..... The Baron and I had done an overnighter at Myre-Big Island State Park.

The purpose was to test Baron's ability to spend the night camping without causing a ruckus, in any way, that might disturb other campers. He passed with flying colors. I had thought about going fishing on Albert Lea lake the next morning. No go. I forgot my fishing pole. Instead Baron and I opted to hike the "Big Marsh Trail." In the spirit of Gary Larson the following report may be too gross or childish for some tastes - therefore it is rated SM - Silly Mature.

It was early in the campground and very quiet. Baron strained at the leash ready to go. Things went well till he spotted a wandering squirrel. Dragging me down the road and barking at the same time was not a good beginning. Escaping the campground, I found the trail. It looked like we might be entering some sort of "black hole."

Because no one was about I let the big guy off his leash. Sometimes you just gotta run. Escaping from the "black hole" at warp speed, we followed the trail along the edge of the lake. Someone, in addition to the author, had laid an egg. It was Mother Goose. The intrepid explorer decided to test the water. I called him back, where naturally, he did his shaking thing getting me all wet. Further up the trail, the woods were covered with the fleeting glory of spring wildflowers. -

Shortly thereafter, we emerged from the deep woods to overlook the goal we had been seeking - the Great Marsh itself! Which brings me to the early development of my lifelong interest in great literature. In my youth, say at about 5th or 6th grade, young boys began sharing their interest in books by referring to such titles as "Under The Grandstand" by Seymour Butts. "How We Got To Bethlehem" by Don Keys, or "Yellow Rivers" by I.P. Daily. As I sat on the bench overlooking the swamp, and seeing some kind of yellow algae bloom on the water, I couldn't help but think of Mr. Daily’s famous book title. Sorry folks. Some mornings I just can't help myself.

Skunky

2011-04-12T07:59:00.010-06:00

This is an up close and personal report on skunks. No. No Not that kind.

The kind that is among the first plants to reach up to the sunlight in earliest spring. They're call skunk cabbages. The troutbirder family had gone hiking up a small ravine in Forestville State Park to search for this oddly name plant. The woods had that bare gray look to it before the trees had begun to leaf out. The ground was leaf littered without much of anything growing yet. I was looking for some "seeps". That is a area that would be permanently wet thoughout the summer. It might on a hillside or along a temporary streambed coursing with spring runoff.

Baron as always led the way.

There they were at the base of a small outcropping.

When the skunk cabbage first pops up in the spring, it looks quite like something you've never seen before. The "flower" is rather exotic as well...... and yes it does have a, shall we say, quite unique "aroma."

It's been a long hike this morning so Baron and I plunk down in the leaves for a breather. Our hunt successfull we know for sure now, that the skunk cabbages having arrived..... so has spring!

Tongue In Cheek

2011-04-09T05:20:00.003-06:00

R.E previous post titled "Troutbirder's Favorite Recipes." I think I need to go back and reread the chapter in the manual "How To Write Blog Posts" titled "Tongue In Cheek Satire." Obviously, judging by the majority of kind and generous posts I'd received so far.... I missed the mark. Lets start with the facts. I do have that cookbook. The titles of the recipes are real. I did hunt deer, pheasants, ruffed grouse, ducks and geese. I do not hunt/fish nor eat carp, coots(mudhens), muskrats, crayfish, opposum, skunk, racoon, woodchuck, beaver, snipe, or anything akin. For certain, in the golden age of my youth, I had killed and brought home some squirrels. Skinned and proudly presented to my city raised bride, (who had already demonstrated a certain degree of skepticism toward any meat not approved by the Department of Agriculture and wrapped in plastic), Mrs. T asked "what are they?" After explaning to her the conclusion was "they look like rats and I refuse to cook them." Thus ended my career of bring home for table use anything exotic found in my South Dakota cookbook......

Troutbirder Favorite Recipes

2011-04-08T06:18:00.007-06:00

Today, as I’ve noted being done in other blogs, I’m going to share some of my favorite game, fish and fowl recipes. When first married my spouse purchased "Cooking The Sportsman’s Harvest" from the South Dakota Department of Game, Fish and Parks (Published in 1974) I hunted upland game and waterfowl in those days along with bow hunting deer. So with slight tongue in cheek, I present some of the top items to prepare mentioned in the book. It will soon become obvious that in the Dakotas (both North and South) it is legal to shoot anything with four legs (including a table), flies or swims. Please note in the comment section those items of which you would like to see detailed recipes.

I will gladly post them later.

Fish:

Baked Paddlefish Squares

Carp Chowder

Fish Egg Soup

Pickled Bullhead

Prairie Seafood:

Mossback Turtle Steaks

Turtle Pie

Crayfish Etoufee

Fowl:

Snipe Burgers

Sandhill Crane Pie

Coot Stew

Small Game:

Pressure Cooked Coon and Dressing

Fricassee of Young Racoon.

Woodchuck In Sauce

Marsh Rabbit (muskrat)

Opossum

Beaver.

Let me know now. I'll provide the recipe. You provide the "fixins."

Lewis & Clark

2011-04-07T05:59:00.008-06:00

We had met son Tony & grandson Ethan, from Colorado, to spend a few days camping in the Black Hills of South Dakota. They arrived on Saturday, so Barb and I having arrived in Custer on Thursday night, had a day to explore on our own. Naturally, I brought my binocs and so on Friday afternoon we found Lewis and Clark.

Lewis's Woodpecker and Clark's Nutcracker that is to say. Both are western birds especially associated with boreal forests. Ponderosa Pines in particular. I must say that having enjoyed telling the story of these two great pioneer explorers of the West, many times to my history students, it just seemed appropriate that the sighting of these two bird "lifers" just happened As the range map shows, the Black Hills are at the western extremity, of Lewis's Woodpecker's home territory.

The Rites of Spring

2011-04-03T07:19:00.010-06:00

And thus we enter "The Rites of Spring." A time to clean up the yard and the flower beds. Check the boat and the camper. Clean out the garage, the shed and the vehicles. Get the bike down from overhead. Then, as spring appears from the doldrums of March, I begin to think of "emergers." There are two that immediately catch my attention. The first are those tiny insects that spring from the waters of our crystaline limestone spring creeks. They are stone, caddis and mayflies.

In the springtime, the moment when these tiny insects transform from their nymphal form and swim to the surface of the stream is indeed magic to the trout fisherman. As they struggle upwards, to flutter away, they are called emergers. This is the time for "wet flies" to be cast into the stream and lifted in imitation of the real thing. It is what I am thinking of, in the winter season, as I tie my own imitations of them.

This is the same time when other "emergers" appear on the spring scene. I hunt for them with my camera and companion dog. Here are a few:

The Showy Orchis. A now rare native orchid of hardwood forests here in Minnesota. Thick basal leaves and small spurred flowers. The lip is white. Other petals and sepals are pink or magenta. About 6 inches tall. Photo taken in Forestville State Park 5/12/08.

Another emerger is the skunk cabbage. It is found along stream margins and on hillsides in seepage areas. One of the earliest plants to appear in the spring. Yes, the fruit has a definite smell to it! Photos Forestville Park/April 2010

Appearing from the forest litter on a ridge high above the Whitewater Valley in Whitewater State Park is an early blooming native Pasque Flower. It is a rare member of the crocus family.

These and many other spring woodland flowers are considered "ephemerals" meaning they emerge and bloom quickly before the forest canopy shades them from the sunlight.

Emergers. You gotta love them as we step out from our winter blahs as well.

Cold

2011-04-02T04:23:00.004-06:00

It's been a struggle to accomplish much of anything the last couple of weeks. I've been dozing a lot with cold, sinus and sore throat medicine. They say if you doctor a cold it'll only take about a week to cure it. Otherwise let it run it's course unaided and it be gone in about 7 days. It's actually been almost three weeks.

Lots of tossing and turning and hacking at night yet I managed to hear a barred owl calling in our woods. Hoot Hoot......Hoot Hoot. "Who Cooks.....For Me.?" Well Mrs. T that's for sure. Plenty of chicken noodle soup, Jello and hot tea. I think I'll make it......... :)

Bird Rescue

2011-03-28T04:21:00.009-06:00

Recently, the new editors of the Minnesota Ornithological Unions, Minnesota Birding magazine asked their members to submit "Real Stories of Minnesota Birders." So I did. It was a post from Sept 23, 2008 titled "Bird Rescue." Imagine my surprise when reading the March/April, 2011 issue of the magazine I came across a story titled "Baron to the Rescue." While somewhat abbreviated from the original, I recognized the hero dog immediately. Here's the original story......

I was sitting in my reading chair in the living room, deep into Steven Pressfield’s new novel, "Killing Rommel." The LRDG (Long Range Desert Group) was about to set out on their desperate mission, as new 8th army commander Bernard Law Montgomery was attempting to hold the line against Afrika Korps, less than 80 miles from Alexandria. There was the thump of heavy artillery and ooops... it was something that just hit the window. I rushed outside to find Baron (my GSD) mouthing a tiny bird. "Drop it," I ordered. Like a good soldier he complied.

I picked up the tiny creature stunned but still alive (barely). Walking into the garage I found a rag and placed it and then the bird into an empty ice cream pail. With a cat in the house and a curious dog that followed my every move, I determined the safest temporary refuge for the bird was to place the bucket into a empty Coleman cooler.Heading back into the house I found my trusty Peterson birding book and began searching for an identification. Probably a warbler I thought. I had narrowed it down to several LBJ’s but nothing conclusive. I decided to wait an hour or so and then check to see if the bird was still alive. I took the cooler out into the garden and carefully opened the lid. The bird had previously been laying on its side barely breathing. Now to my utter astonishment, it was sitting perfectly upright with a "I just woke up and where in the heck am I" look about him. I took several pictures. Here he is in the cooler looking at me in mutual astonishment.

Then he tried to fly but kept crashing into the side of the cooler. I carefully picked him up and set him on the ground. We looked at each other for a few seconds . I took another picture.

Then he just flew away into the woods.

When I downloaded the digital pictures I saw the conclusive proof. He had pink legs. It was an ovenbird. The first one I had ever seen.....

Cats & Dogs

2011-03-24T15:09:00.006-06:00

Barons Daily Log
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!

9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!

9:40 am - A walk in Forestville State Park! My favorite thing!

10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!

12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!

1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!

3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!

5:00 pm - Milk Bones! My favorite thing!

7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

7:05 Got a pepperoni for returning the ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!

11:00 pm - Sleeping on the cushion in my kennel! My favorite thing!

Excerpts from Simba's Daily Rant...

Day 1983 of my captivity..My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects & something called a laser light. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards.There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now................

Baron "The Bird Hunter"

2011-03-22T10:19:00.012-06:00

He started out as just a little fur ball in my lap but by the time Baron (my GSD) was a year old, he had a limp after strenuous activity. I took him to the vet and x-rays followed. The bad news was that he had a congenital defect in his back knee joints. This misalignment was compounded by the fact that Baron is big. Very big. A typical response when people meet him for the first time is, "OMG, I’ve never seen such a big German Shepherd." Think Marmeduke in size and temperment. Surgery was an option but he was already probably too old to have other than a remote chance of success. The vets advice was to limit his turning and jumping activities and try glucosomine. I did.
Now he is four and very rarely limps anymore. He loves to hike, run and chase small animals. The turning, twisting, jumping part is under strict control especially when he socializes with other dogs. He is not "cured" but managed. I’m now hopeful that Baron and I will be able to do our thing together for many years to come.
One of our favorite joint activities is "bird hiking" This, apparently, is not standard birding technique. Your typical little old man in tennis shoes, binoculars in hand, tip toes silently through the woods peering into the bushes for the sight of a titmouse. Baron and I use the standard grouse hunting technique. I had previously perfected this method in my upland bird hunting days, with all my labs and retrievers. Baron charges through the woods, sloughs and prairies flushing every mammal and bird in his way. They fly in all directions and not being an "on the wing photographer," I note where they land, call the dog to me and then approach for a picture.
The only problem with this birding technique was deer. Baron loves to chase them. As a youngster I had taken him for a hike in the Maynard Underbakke State Forest. What a disaster that was. It’s a very densely forested area, and Baron was exploring ahead down the trail. He had been checking back with me every minute or so, until he disappeared without returning. I had called and called with no response. Following the trail, I noted some deeply imprinted deer tracks. It was as if a deer had been hard and fast. "Not good" I thought. I tracked and called down the trail for about a half a mile. Nothing. Then I returned to the truck and waited for an hour. Still nothing. I figured I had about two hours till dark, so I decided to return to my neighbors, borrow his four-wheeler, load it on a trailer, drive ten miles back to the woods and resume my search for lost puppy.
The access road to the forest, off the state highway, is nothing more than a field road about a half mile in length. . As I drove down that road, next to a plowed cornfield, I saw him slowly working his way toward me. What a relief! Could he have found his way ten miles home? I doubt it.... but he was obviously backtracking. When I stopped the truck and jumped out he saw me and came running. Big hugs and kisses all the way around.
He hopped in the cab and got his butt chewed all the way home. I know it didn't do anything for him but I felt better about it. Unfortunately I think the lesson learned on that outing was (1) chasing deer is a lot of fun, and (2) when push comes to shove my master will come and find me. Grrrrrr.
The next time we went to the Big Woods together, Mr Adventurer was wearing a shock collar. Yes, he still tried to chase deer for a while but a lesson was soon learned. Those big brown running animals somehow bite. Tough love, they call it.

Sandhill Mania

2011-03-20T07:27:00.011-06:00

The Sandhill Crane is a tall gray bird of open grasslands, meadows, and wetlands. It congregates in huge numbers in migration. I had never been able to get close to one for a decent picture. Having a little point and shoot camera without even a telephoto that is....... Let's go back to the beginning.

I saw my first sandhills back in the 80's & 90's. There were some resident and thousands of migrants in th fall at Crex Meadows state wildlife area in west central Wisconsin. They would occasionally fly over but mostly were seen in the meadows and fields some distance from the road. I have a few mostly fuzzy Echtacrome slides of those.

In the last decade, I would rarely see them flying over as I was in my fishing boat on the Mississippi River. No chance for pictures then either. Finally, in the last few years, since I took up birding and got a Cannon point and shoot digital, I saw tens of thousand spring and fall in the Platte River Valley on our way to visit the grandkids in Colorado.

More recently we took a trip to Milwaukee, with friends John and Joanne, for some German culture.... I mean cooking and beer. On the way home we stopped to look at the famous Horicon marsh. There were sandhills in the picked cornfields all along the way. I was getting closer as this shot out the car window shows.

Finally, we hit the jackpot on our brief Florda vacation. Visiting Mrs T's cousin in Sabastian, we headed into town so she could get some pictures of the brown and white pelicans that hung around the docks. That mission accomplished we left the dock to head across the busy and adjacent main street to do a little mall shopping. It was then that I heard my spouse yell "do you want a picture of some sandhills?" "Ya" I replied looking up. And there they were standing on this grassy traffic island in the middle of the highway we were about to cross. Considering all the bad shots of them I got, all I can say is she is either good or damn lucky!

Troutbirder's Philosophy

2011-03-17T09:09:00.009-06:00

I’m thinking today of a choice I’ll be making in a few weeks and thence till the end of September. Trout fishing or birding.

For now there is no choice really. Trout season doesn't open for two weeks. Still, those are two of my favorite outdoor activities (along with flower gardening). They are very similar actually. To be successful you need to be very observant. Close to nature works best.

The best trout fishing is invariably away from the crowd. Crowds of people might work once in a while for birding but I suspect solitary or with one other person is also best. Walking quietly through the woods. Both hobbies often find me in the most beautiful of places. Stalking really.
Both hobbies can involve storytelling. The big one that swam away. Or the little brown one that was too quick flying away to identify. People sometimes besmirch the fly fishermen as "elitist's". That arises from the trout fisherman’s disdain for the "three guys in a fancy power boat with two cases of beer syndrome." Birders are often stereotyped as little old ladies in tennis shoes with binocs in hand. Also, the birder faces the charge of incipient "dweeb or geekism." .

I think I just like being one with nature and afterward being able to reflect on the experience and tell stories about it. Like the time I caught a bat who was attracted to my homemade fly. Or the time I was trapped against a cliff in Yellowstone Park while two testosterone crazed elk had it out right in front of me. For example, the tendency and the need to place close attention to things and the time to contemplate them is why trout fishing has produced the only real "literature" in the fishing genre.

To paraphrase Michigan Supreme Court Justice John Voelker....
I fish and bird because I love to; because I love the places where birds and trout are found. They are often very beautiful. Crowds, malls, television, freeways, rap music, junk food and junk pop culture leave me cold and depressed. I flee with camera or flyrod in hand, to that which I can enjoy in the company of Mother Nature. Relaxed and at one with my surroundings, the cares and turmoil of a world seemingly gone mad are left behind. Gods creatures do not lie, cheat and abuse their surroundings, nor can they be bought or impressed by status and power. My cell phone often doesn’t work in the places I frequent so I’m left alone (except for Baron my GSD). Thus there is solitude without loneliness. I am at peace with my little corner of the world.

Tulips

2011-03-14T19:34:00.009-06:00

Some views of Troutbirders tulip garden.

Well, maybe not Troutbirders. How about we all take a trip to Holland this spring?

Thanks for the pics Gary!

Frosty Morning Thoughts

2011-03-11T09:23:00.012-06:00

Me and the Mrs have been helping a friend and neighbor repaint the rooms of an old farmhouse the last few days. It's about 8 miles out in the country to the location. The ride over yesterday reminded me of why, in spite of all the complaining about the length and severity of this years winter, how beautiful Bluff County can be on a frosty morning,.

Far below, in the valley of Bear Creek, lies our destination. This home was in the hands of a pioneer family for well over a hundred years. Now, a descendent of that family, our friend, has built a new home further down the valley. When refurbished, the homestead will be home to a family of renters. Small and nothing fancy, surrounded by hills, there are lots of memories in the place. I heard a few while working the roller back and forth . It has a beautiful view which is priceless. Yes, we went birding a few weeks back, in warm and sunny Florida. Truth to tell, though, Bluff Country has been my home now, for almost fifty years. And I still love it.

Great Horned Owl (subarticus)

2011-03-08T05:17:00.004-06:00

Click on the picture for a closer look.

This is the subspecies of the Great Horned Owl, b.v.subarcticus. Accoring to Hap Huber it is "sometimes called the taiga race" Like other birds from the Canadian north such as Snowy & Great Grey owls, they occasionaly move south in search of food. Other "irruptive" species like pine siskins, redpolls and crossbills also drop by here in southern Minnesota from the north country.

The picture was sent to me by Alex Watson, a young DNR ranger/birder, whom I met at Forestville State Park, a few years ago. He was leading a birding outing for campers at the park then. Later, I had joined him on a "tree" hunt." A possible state record black ash tree had been reported and he was assigned to locate and verify it. Of course, we did some birding along the way! Alex has since moved on to Lake Carlos State Park, one of the many beautiful sites here in the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes.

Winter Hiking

2011-03-03T05:12:00.012-06:00

Long ago, I had to give up downhill and cross country skiing. Later, since my knee replacement, I've been supercautious about walking on ice. Wouldn't want to wreck that new knee by twisting and falling. Sub zero temps are not a favorite either. Still, when the temps rise into the twenties or warmer and the wind has died down, the urge overtakes. This is especially true when the "big guy" starts acting especially restless. "Go for a walk?" I'll say. And he springs to life. Tuesday we headed to Forestville.

Deep as the snow is we're not dumb. On weekends, the snowmobile trails are a racetrack. During the week....not so much. They are hardpacked and easy to walk. We headed up the Canfield Creek trail. It's about a two hour hike but we had to shorten that a bit. Near the end the trail crosses a trout stream. The water would be about two feet deep at the horse crossing. For a winter hiker that's not an option. Come on along. It's a fun hike.

Baron waits patiently by the front porch. He knows we're heading out.

The ranger station is closed. The campground is empty, although winter camping is allowed. No people equals no leash. Yes we break the park rules. We park in the fisherman parking lot. The blacktop road is open and clear.

The gravel road down to the trail is somewhat icy. One of us is careful as we head down the hill to the stream. Suprisingly, I spot a puff of smoke beyond the trees and encounter a young man in the middle of the stream flyfishing. I guess smoking a cigar, flyrod in hand, never occured to me. Winter fishing is allowed here. It's "catch and release" only. He says the water is warmer than the air. We trade a few winter fishing stories. Mine included fishing the Lamar river in Yellowstone in mid October. Dang near froze my fingers into permanent immobility that time. I'm quite sure it was the last time I had any enthusiasm for winter fishing.

Can you see him standing just at the bend in the creek.

"Come Baron, don't get too far ahead."
"Good boy. " Baron wears a red shock collar. The woods are full of deer and chasing them is a serious no-no. It's not needed today, as the big boy has learned his lesson from past "youthful indiscretions."

Returning to the truck we head on home. Somewhat tired, both of us will sleep well tonight. Perhaps, dreaming of balmier days, when we can sit among the wild geraniums and say "life is good. "

Dreaming In Color

2011-02-28T05:56:00.014-06:00

I was awakened early this morning by the persistent nudging of our cat Simba. He wanted breakfast. It has been said that dogs have owners and cats have staff. I'm on Simbas staff. Simba means lion in Swahili. Rudely awakened, he looks to me pretty much like the adjacent picture.

Later, I looked out the bedroom window at a cold and bleak landscape.
Quite a stark contrast to the colorful dream I'd been having shortly before being awakened. You see my dream had taken me back several weeks to our Florida vacation where some of the trees were already in spring bloom and the flowers...... Here's my dream in the warm green, red, blue, yellow rainbow colors of Florida in mid February.

Hmmmm. Maybe I'll go back to bed and dream some more.

Mea Culpa! Mea Culpa!

2011-02-23T04:26:00.016-06:00

Mea culpa is a phrase in Latin that translates into English as "my mistake" or "my fault". The origin of the expression is from a prayer of confession of sinfulness, used in the Mass, of which the first evidence date from shortly before 1100. However, that’s not when I was born.

It appears that I have been carelessly spreading false information on my blog, in the form of misidentifying several birds. While it is true that I live in the only county, in the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes (Minnesota), without a lake and rarely see wading birds, I do have a Peterson Field Guide. Really, no excuse for missing the fairly obvious. Several people, including Hap Huber of New Hope, Minnesota, spotted these incorrect I.D.'s on my recent posts, of our visit to Florida. The most egregious of these mistakes surrounded the elusive and very tricky immature yellow crowned night heron. I did get the adult version correct on one post, but labeled the immature one I saw at Ding Darling "some "kind of yellow legs" (wrong) and then at Corkscrew a "limpkin" (that wasn’t even close) .

First, the alleged "yellow legs." Then the fabled "shy limpkin" hiding in the weeds.

Sorry, its not a limpkin. It is an immature yellow crowned night heron. Here is the correct version of a limpkin, Mrs. T. photographed in the same place a year ago.

That year, I did better, with a program in hand, correctly identifying the Twins in spring training at Fort Myers.
Earlier, during a morning walk, I saw a bunch of white egrets on a golf course and sitting on condo rooftops. Great egrets, I assumed. Wrong. They were cattle egrets. Take a look.

Apparently a yellow beak and legs were a clue here.

Finally, an actual, breathing. yellow crowned night heron taken at Ding Darling this year.

Well, folks, treading when none have dared to have gone forth before, I will finish this post up with a few more pictures. These have never seen in this space previously and have been meticulously identified with Peterson, Sibley and a well thumbed Golden at my side. Corrections may be easily made by joining the people waiting in line at the "comments" section below.

An endangered wood stork in the ditch at Ding Darling NWR. A black crowned night heron, also from Ding Darling.

Some mottled ducks cruising by.

And so, Woody the Pileated Woodpecker, says.....

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW FOLKS!

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary

2011-02-20T05:59:00.016-06:00

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary is owned and operated by the National Audubon Society. It was established to protect the largest remaining stand of ancient bald cypress left in North America. This process of saving the stand began in the 1950's, although protecting the wading birds that nested within the swamp had been going on the early part of the 20th century. The sanctuary is on the mainland north and east of Naples, Florida. It has several different ecosystems and thus different habitats for the birds, plants and animals who live there. Come on along as we take a look at some of highlights of our visit to Corkscrew.

We followed a 2.25 mile boardwalk. At a slow walking pace it should take you about 2 hours. We took about 6 hours, which would be a clue as to how many interesting sights there were and the number of photos we took
An almost eerie feeling settled over us as we headed into a forested swamp. An occasional bird call sounded in the distance, then we heard something akin to a roaring bellow of a giant "frogosaurus." Just kidding. Is that an alligator we wondered? We didn't know for sure. What else could sound that big and dangerous?
OMG! There's one right next to the board walk! "Not to worry dear," I cautioned Mrs. T. He's headed the other way." Actually, I think gators and cats have a lot in common. They look like they sleep a lot but probably are ready to pounce at a seconds notice. We soon entered a drier more wide open area and birds began to appear all around us.
By far easiest to spot were the painted buntings. As a matter of fact we saw four of them. Leaning over the railing people would stop to see what I was looking at and then pronounce it to be a fake..... till it moved. "Oh my," was a typical reaction. Or, "it looks like it was pained by an artist." All I could think of was "WOW."

The place was also a photographers dream. Many of the birds seemed tame enough to reach out and touch. My little point and shoot camera, for once, seemed up to the job. I suppose seeing lots of people on the boardwalk each day made the birds less wary..... like the red shouldered hawk who posed right above me.

Or this little blue heron, who foraging alongside the boardwalk, I could almost have bent over and touched.

Nearby were several of the much larger Great Egrets.

At about 10 a.m. the crowd began to thicken but the people remained quiet, almost reverent, in this amazing place.

A shy wading bird called a limpkin stood almost hidden among the reeds. Look for the brown stripeing on the breast. I notice another little blue heron wading in what the sign called the "lettuce lakes." It was then that I realized the plants the bird was tromping thru looked familiar. It was something which I usually bought at our local nursery to put in my goldfish pond. Small world!

We saw some familiar species as well, like this tufted mouse, cardinals and even a pileated woodpecker

There were other birds and beautiful plants and flowers, butterflies and strange insects and amphibians. I think to best describe Corkscrew, I would say it was a place of enchantment. At least it was to me. Perhaps, I can talk Mrs. T into going back there again some day

J.N. "Ding" Darling N.W.R.

2011-02-17T04:45:00.022-06:00

J. N. "Ding" Darling was a Pulitzer Prize winning writer and cartoonist. During the depths of the Great Depression he set for himself the task of calling the nations attention to the widespread disappearance of much of the our wildlife.

Surprisingly, in spite of the economic crises, people from all walks of life and interests answered his call. In 1938, a national conference on the subject was held in Washington D.C. Out of this conference a new national conservation organization emerged. It was the National Wildlife Federation. "Ding Darling" was its first President. The organization's first cry was a letter writing campaign to Congress to say "Sympathy is not enough. What we want is ACTION. Now on its 75th anniversary that attitude for action remains. We recently visited Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge on Sanibel Island, just off the coast from Fort Myer, Florida. It remains one of the nations premier bird habitats with a special emphasis on wading and other shorebirds. Take a look......Little Blue Heron. In the ditch right below me. A Black Crown Night Heron. Well hidden little fellow. A pair of Black Vultures. There were also lots of Turkey Vultures overhead throughtout Florida. They are regular Minnesota summer visitors. Our now omnipresent Bald Eagles seem to take over their job in the winter.

How stately. Everywhere.....the Great Egrets. A strange looking, endangered, Wood Stork, fishing almost under a small bridge along the "loop" road through the refuge. A flock of White Pelicans rest on the mud flats in mid morning. Fishing must have been good!

Although a not very clear picture methinks this is a tri-colored heron or a reddish egret. Probably the former. The reddish egret has a pink base beak. Has a tendency to forage by madly dashing about stirring up the water. The first time I saw one last year I thought it was drunk!

Mr. curved beak - the white Ibis. A Yellow Crowned Night Heron drew several photographers along the road, including yours truly.
Looks like some kind of yellowlegs to me. Remember though, I've been doing this birding thing only a couple of years and don't get to see shore birds very often. (oops, corrected thanks to Veronica and Jane) as an immature night heron.

The last picture shows a not uncommon view. While birds can be seen right along the road, many are out and about on the distant islands and mudflats. A scope, which I don't have, would be a big help. Through the generosity of strangers, who did have them, I was able to see some pinkish roseate spoonbills, dowitchers, whimbrels and other unusual species. Up close and personal, were large flocks of what the pros call "peeps." That is to say, small little shorebirds, who all looked alike to me. I didn't have a clue. I guess its a good reason to keep working at it. I guess I'll have to leave beautiful Minnesota in the depths of winter and head to Florida to keep working at it. As they say "its a tough job but somebody's......... :)

Skydiving

2011-02-15T05:34:00.007-06:00

Not that birding on beautiful Pelican Island was too tame for our tastes but that afternoon we decided to head to the local airport where skydivers from all over the country did their thing. The dropzone is situated directly on the east coast of Florida, offering a freefall over the beautiful Sebastian Inlet and Atlantic Ocean. First, we checked out the hanger where the jumpers were putting on their equipment.

Then a quick lunch, while we waited for the big plane to take off with a load of jumpers. What a sight. At 18,000 feet and out they came. Not familiar with this activity other than seeing movies of the 101st Screaming Eagles take off in planes and gliders for the drop over Normandy, France in 1944, I was astonished at how fast they were coming down. As they approached the field. "Broken legs", I thought. And then, at the last second, they turned their chutes, somehow, into the wind and practically hovered, before gently touching the ground.

"No way," Mrs T said when I gently broached the subject of my giving it a try. I've canoed wild Canadian rivers and walked across sandbanks on Montana trout streams, after seeing fresh grizzly bear tracks..... but she's right. Jump into thin air out of an airplane? No way!

Next - Ding Darling

Pelican Island

2011-02-13T09:41:00.015-06:00

It was the first. The very first. At the turn of the 19th century the passenger pigeon, the Carolina parakeet, the American bison, 80% of Floridas birdlife and a series of other birds and mammals had all but disappeared. They were slaughtered in an orgy of greed, profiteering and carelessness. The wonderful wading birds of the Atlantic and Gulf coasts had become the staple for women's fashionable hats. There was only one place, on the Atlantic coast, a tiny 5.5 acre island named after the birds, where a small flock of Brown Pelicans survived.

And it went on and on. Till some true American heroes stepped forward and took action. Tormented by the slaughter a German immigrant, named Paul Kroegel eventually made heroic attempts to ward off feather hunters from Pelican Island with his own 10-gauge shotgun. Kroegel's bravery and dedication received the attention of President Theodore Roosevelt. Roosevelt, one of my personal heroes, established Pelican Island in 1903 as a "preserve and breeding ground for native birds" and appointed Kroegel as the first Refuge Manager. It was the beginning of the conservation movement and the start of the National Wildlife Refuges. Today, they are the largest system of lands for wildlife in the world.

With Joe, our genial host driving, we headed off to the barrier islands, which encompass Pelican Island National Wildlife Refuge. Smal Pelican Island itself stands alone and protected amidst the refuge itself. It proved to be a fun day.

A sign and a Kestral welcomed us. We had a picnic lunch overlooking a small marsh and then took a hike to look for birds.....

A "snake bird" stands guard along the "jungle trail" an unpaved road along the edge of the refuge. A red shouldered hawk joins the watch.
The namesake of the refuge, the brown pelican reflects on the more secure days he and his comrades now enjoy in this beautiful place.

The refuge islands lie off the coast of Sebastian, Florida and the Indian River Estuary. If you click on the picture you can see the town in the distance. The Audobon Society and concerned citizens had to fight in the 60's to prevent "development" from once again destroying the barrier island chain.

Later, the midwestern landlubbers can't help but dip their toes, for the first time, in the Atlantic Ocean. Barb and Joe keep an eye out while "Chicken" Troutbirder, cautious of rip tides, goes ankle deep. Queen B then follows...

Later that afternoon, wind permitting, a "sky jumping" outing is planned. Again stay tuned.

The Troutbirders Return

2011-02-11T10:44:00.013-06:00

....and so we made it back to Minnesota safely. Ah, maybe I should start at the beginning. After our first ever Florida visit last spring, to bird and watch the Twins spring training at Hammond Field in Fort Myers, we decided to return this winter. An invitation to visit Mrs. T.’s cousin Joe and wife Mary made the decision all the easier, along with the really bad weather we’ve been having here lately. So, with Baron and Simba safely boarded up for the duration and our new Garmin GPS system ready to lead the way, we drove off for the sunny South. Luck was with us from the beginning, as we were two days ahead of the mega storm, that paralyzed much of the mid- continent, before it headed on up to the Northeast.
Joe and Mary were wonderfully gracious hosts as they introduced us to the "lifestyle" of Minnesota’s "snowbirds" in Florida. Their winter home base is in Sebastian, on the Atlantic Coast, some miles south of NASA’s space and rocket launch site, at Cape Canaveral. The living was relaxed and easy with plenty of amenities and recreational opportunities yet not overcrowded and hectic. Somehow, in the excitement of packing, I seemed to think we were headed back to Alaska and failed to bring shorts or even short sleeved shirts. A visit to a local shopping center, on arrival, did cure that problem. We liked the area a lot and intend to investigate further opportunities.

Let's follow Mary and Queen B as they lead us around the community.

A golf course wound its way around the community and we found a flock of Great White Egrets checking out the fairway. Even more amazing, some of them were found sitting on the peaks of the condos, basking in the morning sun.

Thus, as the sun set on our first day, amidst the warmth of family and Florida sunshine, we looked forward to the next day..... and the barrier islands of America's first National Wildlife Refuge, Pelican Island. Stay tuned.

And The Lion Shall Lay Down With Baron the Lamb

2011-01-27T07:43:00.006-06:00

The Lion King is Simba. He rules the Oak Hill with les majesty. Calmly surveying his domain, he has little patience with his underlings like Baron Von Goofus. Simba has the privelege of going anywhere in the house he chooses. Usually, he follows the sun. Sleeping on the bed in the East Room in the morning. Sleeping on the living room couch, in the afternoon sunlight. Sleeping on his mistresses bed at night. Actually, being 13 he sleeps a lot. I learned a lot from him about retirement.

He deigns though to bestir himself though early in the morning. His servants need to get up and feed him. He is very particular on that subject. If somehow his mistress fails to rise early enough, say 5 a.m., he begins whining, pawing and when all else fails a few nips on her ears or nose. He eats well. Only the choicest cuts of salmon for him. Dry catfood? Never!

Simba watches carefully though, when the large clumsy dog is allowed into the house. The dog romps around aimlessly. Knocking things over. Demanding attention from everyone. The dog is definitely quite uncultered.Definitely more trouble than he is worth. Lacks dignity,that’s for sure.
Baron is a very very large GSD. He is quite smart, his master says. His mistress is more skeptical. Baron is restricted to the mud room, the kitchen, and the basement. The reason is because he sheds a lot. General rowdiness may have something to do with it as well. Baron likes to chase small creatures a lot. He is by nature a "herder."

His specialty is squirrels. Unfortunately, cats seem to be close second. This chase impulse seems to overpower all the rules about where he is allowed in the house. When Simba walks across the living room a chase is sure to follow.The name of the game changes though when Simba is on a chair, or the couch, or a counter. Baron approaches the cat quietly, knowing its against the rules to harass. Once he gets withing striking range, Simba pummels him with lefts and rights from his declawed paws. Stunned, the big dog usually drops to the floor and looks up. It's as if to say, "ok, ok, your the boss. I just wanted to lay down here."

It's evening now and Simba is sleeping peacefully. Baron is giving me his "I'm cool with all this," look. He knows it's time to go out to his kennel in the garage. Perhaps, he would like to spend the night inside sleeping by his buddy Simba. Or on the bed in the master bedroom? I think not!

Winter On The Tundra

2011-01-25T09:10:00.011-06:00

It been a difficult winter here in the North Country. Sub zero temps and deep snow over hard layers of ice. For me, it means skipping the long hikes with Baron and staying by the comforts of a warm blanket, easy chair and stacks of books. To see the books I've been reading check out Troutbirder II listed on my profile.

For the birds and animals who must scrape a living from the frozen earth it's a lot tougher. My friend Gary Erickson (Mr Science) still manages to go out and about though and take some pictures of the beauty and danger of a Minnesota winter. Here a pheasant is seen trying to feed on a corn shock bale. This is very unusual and definitely shows desperation. Deer make a habit of visiting his bird feeder in the evening.

Here on Troutbirder Ranch, the story is the same. I have been providing large quantities of shelled corn in an effort to keep the deer herd above subsistance. Birds, in huge numbers, keep appearing at my bird feeders. And are they hungry! The top trifecta are the juncos, gold, purple & house finches. On some mornings I’ve seen well more than one hundred gathered about. Also, quite prevalent, are the nuthatches, chickadees, and bluejays. Daily, but not in large numbers, are mourning doves, cardinals, starlings, downy, hairy and red bellied woodpeckers, cardinals.

The local turkey flock often slips quietly through our woods. They tend to be quite cautious as a certain large German Shepherd enjoys chasing them. They cross onto the blacktop in front of our house. Then march parade style up the road till they come to the goat pasture across the way. Having established a peaceful relationship with the unconcerned goats they forage for spilled grain. It's quite a show.

Winter, it's a tough go, here on the Tundra