Bunny Babies

Thunder is rumbling just to the west as I write this from the screen porch.  The lake is mostly calm, with a few surface ripples.  Every now and again, the breeze answers the thunder with a loud sigh.  We are fully leafed out now, and with the load of rain we received last week, the fire danger is low.  That's a sigh of relief for us, should this coming storm produce much in the way of lightning.  It's always enjoyable to watch a storm develop, especially from the safety of our front porch.

Paul made a discovery last week that he kindly shared with me.  While out doing yardwork, he encountered a little clutch of baby bunnies. 

Such irresistable little guys we have not seen in a long time.  What is it about babies that makes us want to drop everything and just watch them?  I recall that feeling with my own sweet little ones.  It seems I spent countless moments watching them sleep.  Perhaps a part of me knew that those days would fly by--as they did--and I wanted to cement the image into my mind, to have forever. 

These wee ones didn't really want to be watched that closely.  They began wiggling and moving, sneaking their way under a nearby chunk of lumber.  Probably a good idea, as it would provide more shelter from predators who might be passing by.  We got to see one guy on his own, and he posed for this photo:

I loved how his ears were still little things, but his feet showed the promise of size and leaping ability.  He'll need those, if he ends up living near the road, as so many bunnies do.  Why they choose that location, I still can't answer.  I do my best not to hit any when traveling a certain stretch of our side road, but sometimes there are a dozen or more.

It's the season of babies, most certainly.  We'll keep our eyes on the lookout for more of the new crop of creatures in our neck of the woods.

The Alaska Journal: Cranes

A big gaggle of geese just flew overhead, making the trek to northern nesting grounds. I estimated that perhaps sixty to seventy were in this particular vee.  They were honking and flapping, making quick progress across my slice of the sky.  It's always fun to see and hear them, and now that I have been to the far north, I can even picture where it is they might be landing when they make it to their summer home.

While we were in Alaska, we had the opportunity to watch a crane.  I didn't have my bird book with me, but I am fairly certain that it was a sandhill crane. On a trip in 2009, we saw hundreds of these magnificent birds in Nebraska.  They were in the midst of their spring migration, with their annual stopover along the Platte River. During the day, the cranes feed in the fields that line both the river and the freeway. It was amazing to watch them poking along, looking for whatever critters they eat, all the while hearing the traffic go by. We were staying at a campground outside of Kearney, and learned that if we were quiet and non-intrusive, we could view them from a short distance.  In the evening, they left the fields to roost at the river. When that is happening, the sky is filled with these birds, huge flocks, flying overhead. They squawk loudly when they fly. We had walked to a viewing area on the river, and it almost felt like pre-historic creatures were above us. I think that is because of their size, and the span of their wings.

It wasn't as dramatic in Alaska. I recognized the sound, and recalled those days in Nebraska. Robert and Amanda said that a pair often will land in the pond at the edge of their dog yard. The cranes are looking for frogs to eat.  We had been hearing the frogs, so I imagine the supply was good.  One afternoon, a lone crane was feeding, and it was either curious or brave. It kept moving closer to the dogs, perhaps for a better look. I was able to stand for several moments, snapping photos as it gracefully came along.  Robert told me that sometimes the birds become really obnoxious. One time last summer, a pair stood right outside of their cabin window, squawking away, in their strange, mechanical-like voices.  It was light out, but it happened to be the middle of the night. Robert and Amanda were not amused.

I like the idea that I have seen the stopover place, and the summer grounds for these birds. It's easy to picture them up in the tundra, nesting and raising the young.  Someday, I would like to see the winter retreat that the cranes inhabit. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on our local skies, and at my birdfeeder, too. There is so much to see right here in my own backyard.

Riding on the High Waters

High water continues to dominate the nature news in this part of the neighborhood. I saw in the Duluth News-Tribune that they were featuring videos of raging rivers. For us, the run-off isn't exactly raging, but it still is pouring into the lake, and that makes the level rise.  The result for us is vigilance....we keep an eye on the boats, the ramps, and the docks.  

Our own landing ramp has some lines that serve as markers for high water years.  Last week, before the rain started, I remarked to Greg that I would love to see the level reach the first crack across the concrete. He pointed to a rock on the other side of the dock, and said that he wanted to see it underwater completely.  We both got our wishes.  As we prepared to go for a barge ride last night, he walked into the water to that crack, and estimated it to be eight inches under. The rock looks submerged to at least that depth also, but we don't want to go swimming yet to verify it!

We trolled along the south side of the lake, near to shore so that we could see the docks of the neighbors.  In most cases, everything was far enough out of the water to still be safe. I can't go so far as to say high and dry.  One boat had a back end full of water, so we lifted and pulled, able to inch the boat and its ramp high enough on land to allow the water to drain out.  

When I stand on the dock, I can see lots of debris floating in the lake.  Accustomed to scanning for birds, instead, I see sticks, logs, and other stuff.  If you are going boating on the lake anytime soon, be watchful for these things.  It's no fun to hit them.  

With nicer weather now, the water should recede a bit.  Already, one of my fishermen reported a slowing of the flow at the mouth of the Cross River, on the west end of the lake.  That is a favorite spot to go fishing for walleyes at this time of the year.  With high water, it will be a bit different for finding the usual hot spots.  

Bridal Falls--A Photo Essay

When the skies decide to drop more than six inches of water in a week, it reaps huge dividends for area landmarks.  Over the holiday weekend, Paul accompanied Geri and Bryna to Bridal Falls.  The water was coursing over the rocky ledge, and he reported that there were too many falls to count.  Here is a selection of the photographs that he brought back.