This post has been moved!
This post about the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge has been moved to my new blog.
~ Mara The Ornery Biologist
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
~ Short Stories - #1 ~
A twig snapped beneath my foot, startling me. I was breathing heavily, terrified at the creature that I knew was following my every move. Crouching down behind a bush, I took a long, cool drink from my canteen and rested for a moment, listening to the sounds of the forest - or, I should say, listening for the sounds of the forest… there were none to be heard. The mountain lion would make no sound, for he placed his feet ever so carefully and rarely alerted his prey until it was too late. Let me go back to the beginning and explain why I am even here…
My traveling went on for quite some time before I decided that my purse was full enough and my mind sharp enough to explore the wilderness not often touched by man. So I left my life of singing, chose a direction, and started off, saying goodbye to the people I had come to know in that area.
Now almost 19, I am not sure how far I have gone, but I will never go back. For the farther North I’ve gone, the more beautiful the land has looked to me. I hope to one day have a home of my own, situated on a green hill, surrounded by tall pines, with a sparkling creek running through. A real home where I can stay, rule, and never have to leave. Now for the part that may or may not startle you, my reader… I am a girl.
I could tell the cougar was getting closer to me now. I could not see or hear him, but I had the feeling that he could see me and knew what I was doing. I sat and tried to come up with a plan. In front of me was the way I had just come, and I kept a close eye on this area so I would not be surprised by the cougar. Behind me was a large hill, dotted with grey rocks and gnarled tree stumps, and it made me think of Ireland. I had seen a book once with pictures of Ireland in it, and ever since then the beautiful country was always in the back of my mind. To my right all I could see was forest. Deep, dark forest getting darker by the moment as the sun started to set. To my left I knew that I would eventually run into other people; for a while now I had seen signs of this. The view from the last hill I climbed showed me a large clearing in that direction, though I could not see past the tall trees to see who it was that lived there. There were also frequently-used trails winding through the woods, and I could tell that they were not made by any four-footed creature. As I sat wondering where I would be safest, I reached into my sack for some jerky and found that it was gone. Now I was not only alone, but also hungry and being hunted by a fierce beast that almost always got what he wanted. For the first time since running away, my mind drifted back to the safety of the orphanages. But I quickly dismissed the thought, for there had been much hunger there as well. A slight rustle of leaves in front of me and to my right snapped me out of my thoughts and I picked a way in which to go. I started off to the left.
For hours I trudged on, my gun loaded and ready for any sign of trouble from man or beast. I could not be sure the cougar was still following me, but I still had the eerie feeling that something had it’s eyes on my every motion, listened to my every breath, and could feel that I was nervous. For in the dark I stumbled over hidden objects, my breaths became faster with every minute, and I was jumpy. Every noise, even those I made myself, caused me to stop and look around. I had to admit it to myself; I was terrified. When I felt that I could walk no longer, I looked around for a place to sleep for the remainder of the night. I find it very inconvenient that cougars can find their way into every place I looked at… I found a tree that could easily be climbed and had a large limb that might be good for sleeping on, but I would be easy pickings up there. As I was gathering wood for my fire and ferns for a mattress, I bumped into something hard. I moved the plants away and felt around… Why, it was a cave! I had bumped myself on the low roof at the entrance, and when I moved the ivy away, I found a small, round room inside. I built my fire directly outside the door, keeping my gun handy as I did not know how deep the cave went, or whether the cougar was still around, watching for the right moment to attack. While tending to the fire, I used some of the string that I had in my sack to tie ferns around the end of a large stick, and when the fire was blazing nicely, I lit the make-shift torch in the flames.
Torch in one hand and gun in the other, I carefully made my way inside the cave. I was fortunate enough to be a small girl for my age, and did not find it hard to move around inside. The width of the cave was about four feet across, and the length was not much more. The entrance at the front was the only way in, and I had been smart enough to build my fire there just in case. I went out to get the ferns that I had collected and laid them on the floor of the cave to make a bed for myself. Then I added more wood to my fire, and carefully pinned the hanging ivy above the cave entrance so that it would not catch on fire. When everything was done I curled up on my bed and made a mental note to wake up and check the fire in an hour or so. The next thing I knew it was morning. The birds were singing and I startled a deer when I poked my head out of the cave. My fire had died early in the night and did not pose a threat of wildfire, which was a good thing because all of the water left in my canteen I needed for myself. I stepped out of the cave, slung my sack up onto my shoulder, jammed my gun into my belt and started off in the direction of civilization. While walking I listened to the bird calls. I prided myself in knowing most of these songs by heart, and whistled an occasional “good morning!” to the chickadees. I did not worry about the cougar anymore, because of the deer outside my cave this morning.
At around noon I noticed moccasin tracks in the dirt trail. My heart jumped a little, for I never did learn how to tell what tribe of Indians left what signs. I knelt down to examine them; they were no older than this morning, and were headed in the same direction I was. I stood up and looked around, noticing that they emerged from the woods on my right. I took a deep breath and kept walking, knowing that I needed food, shelter and new clothes, and hoping with all my heart that I would find the people ahead of me pleasant and understanding.
Several un-eventful hours passed, and I rested along the side of the trail, sipping water and eating some wild blackberries I had found a short way back. Until I had sat for a few minutes, I did not realize how exhausted I was. Laying my head against a tree trunk, I closed my eyes.
20 minutes later…
My eyes flew open and I looked around me, knowing that something had awakened me but not knowing exactly what it was. I stood up and turned around to see something dart behind a bush. It did not look like an animal, and so I walked towards it, my hand on my gun, and almost screeched a “Hello.” A young face, belonging to an Indian boy of about 7, looked up at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. He looked scared of me. I immediately dropped my arm to my side, wishing the gun was not so visible, and reached out to shake his hand. He stared at my hand, then at my face and said, “Eyes of blue and face like moon when full and white. You white man?” “No,” I said, dropping my hand back down to my side. “I am a white lady.” The little boy flashed a wide grin and pointed to himself. “I Hopping Sparrow. What name of you?” “My name is Jane,” I replied. It was the first time I had talking to another person in weeks, and for some reason it really did feel good to tell someone my name… “Where do you live, Hopping Sparrow?” I asked, looking around. I thought it odd that a little boy should be exploring the woods by himself. He pointed down the path a ways. “Village there, behind vines. You come see?” I told him yes, I would love to come see where he lived. I was also curious as to how he spoke English so well. He led me down the path for about twenty feet or so, around a curve, thrust a thick mass of vines aside and led me in.
I stood on the edge of a perfectly round clearing in the middle of the woods. Tall pines surrounded the small village made up of tipis and crude cabins. It was a beehive of activity; there were half-naked children running everywhere, women tanning hides, making jerky, and standing over great kettles of food, and men and older boys racing ponies around the edge of the clearing. I suddenly felt very small, where before, alone in the woods, I had felt big and important. Hopping Sparrow led me to one of the crude cabins and tugged at the skirt of a middle-aged woman. “Mother, this white ma- lady name Jane and want see village.” For a moment I was afraid I was going to be scolded, or perhaps even thrown out, for her small black eyes narrowed as she looked at me from head to toe. By this time, the children had gathered around, pointing and staring, and the pony races had stopped. I knew I must look a sight, for my hair was a mess and my clothes torn and stained. My stomach growled in hunger and the woman looked shocked, then her face softened and she took a bowl from a shelf inside the cabin, poured a dark stew into it, and handed it to me saying, “Eat. I find clothes.” Then she walked away, leaving me to eat the stew with my fingers, which I found difficult because it was hot. I was so hungry, I hardly noticed after a few bites, and it was only a few hours later when I wondered what meat I had eaten…
It was evening when I had enough time to stop and think. After I had finished my stew, the children grabbed me by my hands and clothes and dragged me to the largest cabin of all. Here I saw a sort of store-house. These people were very smart; on one side were clothes of various sizes, on the other was bowls upon bowls of food and seeds, and at the back of the building were tools of every can and for every purpose. I found the woman holding a new deerskin skirt and skirt, fringed and beaded, and a new pair of beaded moccasins. I was honored to receive such a beautiful outfit, and told her so. She laughed a little laugh and said, “Beautiful outfit on beautiful girl. Change.” She placed it on my outstretched arms, walked out of cabin, and closed the door. I could hear her shouting to the children in their native language. I quickly changed, laid my old outfit on the nearby bench, and walked out into the fresh air. There was a young brave waiting for me. He motioned toward a large tipi and told me to follow him. Inside I found men, old and young, sitting around a large fire in the middle. Apparently it was the council, and I had the feeling that they had been discussing me.
The young brave who had escorted me to the tipi shook out a dusty buffalo hide and motioned for me to sit on it. I thanked him and sat down, noticing a smirk on the face of the oldest man there. He was all wrinkles and had the longest, whitest hair I had ever seen before. I timidly said hello and they all replied with gruff hellos and much nodding of their heads. Then one of the younger men started the meeting by asking, “What name? What you doing here? Why you alone?” I gave myself a moment to settle the nervous butterflies in my stomach. What were they going to do with me? “My name is Jane,” I replied timidly. “I am here because I ran away from home. And I am alone because I have no friends.” Here there was much whispering a hand gestures, then the old man with the white hair said, “Enough! We talk to girl, not to selves.” The members fell silent, and the young brave that had stood next to me sat down and crossed his legs in the same manner as his elders. I had a feeling that it meant the meeting would be a long one. One of the younger men now spoke “Chief Silver Moon, what we do with girl? We sell her?” I froze in my seat and looked pleadingly at the old man. “Chief Silver Moon, please do not sell me! I promise I will work hard to earn my keep here. I will wash clothes, tan hides, cook food, care for the children; anything!” He chuckled and replied, “Slow down talk. We not sell you.” This did comfort me some and so I sat silently while they talked among themselves. After what seemed a very long time, though it was only about ten minutes, Chief Silver Moon and the other members of the council stood. One of the middle-aged men spoke; “I Darting Horse, father of Hopping Sparrow who bring you here. You stay in my cabin. Be my daughter.” I was pleased that I had been accepted into not only the tribe, but a family. And I was to be Hopping Sparrow’s big sister!
A week passed and I grew accustomed to the different ways of living, the daily chores, and the people themselves. I loved it, and was always busy, so I was always content. At night, when the work was done I would lie under the great big sky and look at the stars, dreaming of the future. Darting Horse and his wife allowed me to call them Father and Mother, and Hopping Sparrow was always right at my heels all day long, showing me to all of the other children and saying I was his big sister, and his name for me would be Bright Star.
~ Mara
~
I was an orphan. I had always been an orphan; in and out of various orphanages for 16 years. When I was 17, I ran away for the last time and started singing at every run-down saloon I came across. It kept clothes on my back and food in my stomach, but I got the feeling I wasn’t very good at the only thing I knew how to do. I would sing at one place for a few nights, get paid, then told to move on; they had found someone better to fill my place. I traveled for miles, looking for another weather-beaten old excuse for a place to eat. While I traveled I learned many things about the woods, the animals that lived there, and the signs they left behind. Once in a while I would strike up a conversation with an old-timer and they would teach me something I did not yet know. One time I even met an English-speaking Indian, Racing Deer, and learned how to track the bear, the cougar and the woodpecker. Or as he said; the meat for man, the killer of man, and the model for man. I was puzzled as to why the woodpecker, of all creatures, would be the model for man. I had always thought the model for man to be the ant. Racing Deer told me that the woodpecker was always at work. He worked for the land; ridding the forest of bug-infested trees, and he worked for his food; pounding hour after hour just so he could feed himself and his family. I pondered the moral of this and nodded in agreement. I knew what Racing Deer meant.My traveling went on for quite some time before I decided that my purse was full enough and my mind sharp enough to explore the wilderness not often touched by man. So I left my life of singing, chose a direction, and started off, saying goodbye to the people I had come to know in that area.
Now almost 19, I am not sure how far I have gone, but I will never go back. For the farther North I’ve gone, the more beautiful the land has looked to me. I hope to one day have a home of my own, situated on a green hill, surrounded by tall pines, with a sparkling creek running through. A real home where I can stay, rule, and never have to leave. Now for the part that may or may not startle you, my reader… I am a girl.
~
I could tell the cougar was getting closer to me now. I could not see or hear him, but I had the feeling that he could see me and knew what I was doing. I sat and tried to come up with a plan. In front of me was the way I had just come, and I kept a close eye on this area so I would not be surprised by the cougar. Behind me was a large hill, dotted with grey rocks and gnarled tree stumps, and it made me think of Ireland. I had seen a book once with pictures of Ireland in it, and ever since then the beautiful country was always in the back of my mind. To my right all I could see was forest. Deep, dark forest getting darker by the moment as the sun started to set. To my left I knew that I would eventually run into other people; for a while now I had seen signs of this. The view from the last hill I climbed showed me a large clearing in that direction, though I could not see past the tall trees to see who it was that lived there. There were also frequently-used trails winding through the woods, and I could tell that they were not made by any four-footed creature. As I sat wondering where I would be safest, I reached into my sack for some jerky and found that it was gone. Now I was not only alone, but also hungry and being hunted by a fierce beast that almost always got what he wanted. For the first time since running away, my mind drifted back to the safety of the orphanages. But I quickly dismissed the thought, for there had been much hunger there as well. A slight rustle of leaves in front of me and to my right snapped me out of my thoughts and I picked a way in which to go. I started off to the left.
For hours I trudged on, my gun loaded and ready for any sign of trouble from man or beast. I could not be sure the cougar was still following me, but I still had the eerie feeling that something had it’s eyes on my every motion, listened to my every breath, and could feel that I was nervous. For in the dark I stumbled over hidden objects, my breaths became faster with every minute, and I was jumpy. Every noise, even those I made myself, caused me to stop and look around. I had to admit it to myself; I was terrified. When I felt that I could walk no longer, I looked around for a place to sleep for the remainder of the night. I find it very inconvenient that cougars can find their way into every place I looked at… I found a tree that could easily be climbed and had a large limb that might be good for sleeping on, but I would be easy pickings up there. As I was gathering wood for my fire and ferns for a mattress, I bumped into something hard. I moved the plants away and felt around… Why, it was a cave! I had bumped myself on the low roof at the entrance, and when I moved the ivy away, I found a small, round room inside. I built my fire directly outside the door, keeping my gun handy as I did not know how deep the cave went, or whether the cougar was still around, watching for the right moment to attack. While tending to the fire, I used some of the string that I had in my sack to tie ferns around the end of a large stick, and when the fire was blazing nicely, I lit the make-shift torch in the flames.
Torch in one hand and gun in the other, I carefully made my way inside the cave. I was fortunate enough to be a small girl for my age, and did not find it hard to move around inside. The width of the cave was about four feet across, and the length was not much more. The entrance at the front was the only way in, and I had been smart enough to build my fire there just in case. I went out to get the ferns that I had collected and laid them on the floor of the cave to make a bed for myself. Then I added more wood to my fire, and carefully pinned the hanging ivy above the cave entrance so that it would not catch on fire. When everything was done I curled up on my bed and made a mental note to wake up and check the fire in an hour or so. The next thing I knew it was morning. The birds were singing and I startled a deer when I poked my head out of the cave. My fire had died early in the night and did not pose a threat of wildfire, which was a good thing because all of the water left in my canteen I needed for myself. I stepped out of the cave, slung my sack up onto my shoulder, jammed my gun into my belt and started off in the direction of civilization. While walking I listened to the bird calls. I prided myself in knowing most of these songs by heart, and whistled an occasional “good morning!” to the chickadees. I did not worry about the cougar anymore, because of the deer outside my cave this morning.
At around noon I noticed moccasin tracks in the dirt trail. My heart jumped a little, for I never did learn how to tell what tribe of Indians left what signs. I knelt down to examine them; they were no older than this morning, and were headed in the same direction I was. I stood up and looked around, noticing that they emerged from the woods on my right. I took a deep breath and kept walking, knowing that I needed food, shelter and new clothes, and hoping with all my heart that I would find the people ahead of me pleasant and understanding.
Several un-eventful hours passed, and I rested along the side of the trail, sipping water and eating some wild blackberries I had found a short way back. Until I had sat for a few minutes, I did not realize how exhausted I was. Laying my head against a tree trunk, I closed my eyes.
20 minutes later…
My eyes flew open and I looked around me, knowing that something had awakened me but not knowing exactly what it was. I stood up and turned around to see something dart behind a bush. It did not look like an animal, and so I walked towards it, my hand on my gun, and almost screeched a “Hello.” A young face, belonging to an Indian boy of about 7, looked up at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. He looked scared of me. I immediately dropped my arm to my side, wishing the gun was not so visible, and reached out to shake his hand. He stared at my hand, then at my face and said, “Eyes of blue and face like moon when full and white. You white man?” “No,” I said, dropping my hand back down to my side. “I am a white lady.” The little boy flashed a wide grin and pointed to himself. “I Hopping Sparrow. What name of you?” “My name is Jane,” I replied. It was the first time I had talking to another person in weeks, and for some reason it really did feel good to tell someone my name… “Where do you live, Hopping Sparrow?” I asked, looking around. I thought it odd that a little boy should be exploring the woods by himself. He pointed down the path a ways. “Village there, behind vines. You come see?” I told him yes, I would love to come see where he lived. I was also curious as to how he spoke English so well. He led me down the path for about twenty feet or so, around a curve, thrust a thick mass of vines aside and led me in.
I stood on the edge of a perfectly round clearing in the middle of the woods. Tall pines surrounded the small village made up of tipis and crude cabins. It was a beehive of activity; there were half-naked children running everywhere, women tanning hides, making jerky, and standing over great kettles of food, and men and older boys racing ponies around the edge of the clearing. I suddenly felt very small, where before, alone in the woods, I had felt big and important. Hopping Sparrow led me to one of the crude cabins and tugged at the skirt of a middle-aged woman. “Mother, this white ma- lady name Jane and want see village.” For a moment I was afraid I was going to be scolded, or perhaps even thrown out, for her small black eyes narrowed as she looked at me from head to toe. By this time, the children had gathered around, pointing and staring, and the pony races had stopped. I knew I must look a sight, for my hair was a mess and my clothes torn and stained. My stomach growled in hunger and the woman looked shocked, then her face softened and she took a bowl from a shelf inside the cabin, poured a dark stew into it, and handed it to me saying, “Eat. I find clothes.” Then she walked away, leaving me to eat the stew with my fingers, which I found difficult because it was hot. I was so hungry, I hardly noticed after a few bites, and it was only a few hours later when I wondered what meat I had eaten…
It was evening when I had enough time to stop and think. After I had finished my stew, the children grabbed me by my hands and clothes and dragged me to the largest cabin of all. Here I saw a sort of store-house. These people were very smart; on one side were clothes of various sizes, on the other was bowls upon bowls of food and seeds, and at the back of the building were tools of every can and for every purpose. I found the woman holding a new deerskin skirt and skirt, fringed and beaded, and a new pair of beaded moccasins. I was honored to receive such a beautiful outfit, and told her so. She laughed a little laugh and said, “Beautiful outfit on beautiful girl. Change.” She placed it on my outstretched arms, walked out of cabin, and closed the door. I could hear her shouting to the children in their native language. I quickly changed, laid my old outfit on the nearby bench, and walked out into the fresh air. There was a young brave waiting for me. He motioned toward a large tipi and told me to follow him. Inside I found men, old and young, sitting around a large fire in the middle. Apparently it was the council, and I had the feeling that they had been discussing me.
The young brave who had escorted me to the tipi shook out a dusty buffalo hide and motioned for me to sit on it. I thanked him and sat down, noticing a smirk on the face of the oldest man there. He was all wrinkles and had the longest, whitest hair I had ever seen before. I timidly said hello and they all replied with gruff hellos and much nodding of their heads. Then one of the younger men started the meeting by asking, “What name? What you doing here? Why you alone?” I gave myself a moment to settle the nervous butterflies in my stomach. What were they going to do with me? “My name is Jane,” I replied timidly. “I am here because I ran away from home. And I am alone because I have no friends.” Here there was much whispering a hand gestures, then the old man with the white hair said, “Enough! We talk to girl, not to selves.” The members fell silent, and the young brave that had stood next to me sat down and crossed his legs in the same manner as his elders. I had a feeling that it meant the meeting would be a long one. One of the younger men now spoke “Chief Silver Moon, what we do with girl? We sell her?” I froze in my seat and looked pleadingly at the old man. “Chief Silver Moon, please do not sell me! I promise I will work hard to earn my keep here. I will wash clothes, tan hides, cook food, care for the children; anything!” He chuckled and replied, “Slow down talk. We not sell you.” This did comfort me some and so I sat silently while they talked among themselves. After what seemed a very long time, though it was only about ten minutes, Chief Silver Moon and the other members of the council stood. One of the middle-aged men spoke; “I Darting Horse, father of Hopping Sparrow who bring you here. You stay in my cabin. Be my daughter.” I was pleased that I had been accepted into not only the tribe, but a family. And I was to be Hopping Sparrow’s big sister!
A week passed and I grew accustomed to the different ways of living, the daily chores, and the people themselves. I loved it, and was always busy, so I was always content. At night, when the work was done I would lie under the great big sky and look at the stars, dreaming of the future. Darting Horse and his wife allowed me to call them Father and Mother, and Hopping Sparrow was always right at my heels all day long, showing me to all of the other children and saying I was his big sister, and his name for me would be Bright Star.
~ Mara
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
~ Sand Mines & Cleaning Operations Have a Negative Effect ~
"Perhaps Someday"
The leaves rustle quietly as the gentle breeze blows and the robin sings it’s song, hidden somewhere in the bright green boughs. The deer forage in the field attached to the farm that is for sale. So many times I have admire that farm, with it’s many acres, roomy barn, and two houses... Perhaps someday I could buy it.
The elusive Pileated calls from somewhere in the woods beyond the field, and I wish that I could go exploring in the dense, mysterious wilderness that is hidden from my view. People drive up to the farm and begin looking around. I hope they dislike it... Perhaps someday I could buy it.
Not long afterwards I hear the news; a sand cleaning operation has bought the farm. My somewhat foolish castle in the air vanishes, and I forget about the farm for a while. Then I see what a sand cleaning operation is and how it can ruin an entire township. The houses are now offices, the woods and fields abandoned and un-cared for, and mountains of different-colored sand stand out everywhere. Towers stand taller than trees with powerful lights mounted on top, dump trucks a semis constantly roar in and out of the gates, and fine particles of sand fill the air, choking surrounding vegetation. Perhaps someday the operation will move on.
The constant roaring of the trucks night and day, the clanging of the doors as the sand is dumped, and the incessant beeping as the trucks back around is deafening. The roads are never smooth now, as the truck drivers slam on their brakes at the last possible moment, tearing up the blacktop on both sides of the road. Our modest country road is now cluttered with weight and speed limit signs, and the ice collects in the ruts, making it fatal to drive at anything more than a snail pace. Perhaps someday they will realize what they are doing.
By now the people of the township have become angry; limited ability to get sleep will do that. They ask, and then beg, for the company to cease operating during the night; yet they are ignored. After a while they are completely fed up, and meet with others to discuss the problem. The operation agrees to some suggestions, but do not bother being very faithful about it. The trucks still run at night and the lights still shine, marring the beautiful country sky and brightness of the stars. Perhaps someday they will listen.
A car swerves off, almost tipping into the ditch, as the dump truck roars past in the very middle of the road. It is not a rare sight, as the drivers know how big they are and how small the mini van is. The sheriff is called, and the driver goes to the operation’s office and complains; yet nothing changes. I highly doubt they will ever listen.
stand on the edge of the road in November of 2010, camera in hand, and gaze at the beautiful sight before me. A flock of nine Whooping Cranes wander about the field searching for those little delicacies that birds find so appealing to them. A dump truck roars past above the speed limit and I walk down to stand in the ditch, out of the way of the vehicles I have come to fear. I notice that the Whooping Cranes also shy away from the road every time a truck passes by. After a short while, and many photographs, I inconspicuously retire to my vehicle and drive on, leaving the cranes for another day. I wonder how long they will stay...
They end up staying for almost a week, and during that time I observe and photograph them. Each day I see them shy away and nervously “dance” every time a truck passes by, though I don’t think about it too much at the time. As an amateur ornithologist, I am excited to find out that this field is an annual stopping place for the Whooping Cranes during the migrations. Perhaps someday they will return during the migration back North.
Spring finally comes, and I watch desperately for the cranes to return. Not only the Whooping Cranes, but the smaller Sandhill Cranes as well. I am disappointed that none come, but I just assume that they have a slightly different path coming back North. Perhaps someday they will return on their way South again.
The autumn months of 2011 arrive and my camera is ready to grab at a moment’s notice. Family members help me watch for the cranes to return. While doing chores around our small farm, I hear the distinct sound of a Whooping Crane and, looking up, I see one flying with a small flock of Sandhill Cranes. A few days later, one lone Whooping Crane flies over the sand mine itself. None stay around our area for very long now, as the noise and activity are just too much for them. All autumn and into early winter I watch, and only two Whooping Cranes stop over in the general area, but they stay only a couple of days and are never close enough to the road for photographs. Perhaps someday things will quiet down and they will want to return.
For now I can only hope that my efforts will bring more people to the realization that the sand mines will not only effect endangered birds, but could also be effecting the habits of other animal species in the area. More research must be done, the right people informed, and the sand mines confined to areas that are not populated by humans who need rest, and animals that will be negatively effected.
Perhaps someday we can make a difference.
~ Mara
Monday, November 28, 2011
~ Wild Beauty ~
This blog post has been moved!
This post, Wild Beauty, has been moved to my new blog.
~ Mara The Ornery Biologist
Friday, October 14, 2011
~ October Farm Update ~
I shall attempt to make a list of all the animals we now have on our small 8.5-acre hobby farm. Bear with me here; it’s a long list. ;)
We have 1 dog named Crockett. I have blogged about him before and praised his cuteness.
We have 4 (soon to be even more) cats.
Grey C. is the eldest and has been with us longer than any of the other animals.
Baby is second, has had 2 kittens and is now expecting again.
Zorro and Tiger Lily are Baby’s kittens. And the cutest you’ll ever see!
We have 3 rabbits.
Hero is the male. I wanted to name him after some hero, but could not decide on one, so I simply named him Hero.
Missy belongs to my 8yo brother.
Bitsy belongs to my 3yo brother.
These three meat rabbits are going to be kept as breeding stock. I know it sounds horrible to some people, but we’ll be eating their offspring. (sorry!)
The plan is for me to train my brothers in how to take care of the rabbits so that they may one day take over the operation if and when I move away.
We have 6 Pekin ducks.
Mason. Named after Perry Mason in that awesome old TV show.
Drake. Named after Paul Drake in afore-mentioned show.
Della. Named after Della Street in… yes, you guessed it. ;)
Stella. Because it rhymed with Della I suppose.
And then come Molly and Dolly. I don’t know where those names came from, but they’re cute.
Then we have my favorite chicken, Ivory, who is a White Polish hen. She thinks she is a duck, following them wherever they go, drinking from their pond, and sleeping with them. She is definitely the funniest bird I have ever seen.
We currently have 34 chickens. I never knew that chickens could be so different from one another in the way they act. They all have their own attitudes and some are so naughty that they shall be sent to The Eternal Deep Freeze soon.
Well, there you have it. Our Cedar Cottage Farm has exactly 45 animals right now. When I am able to get some photos of our new rabbits, I shall post them here.
~ Mara
We have 1 dog named Crockett. I have blogged about him before and praised his cuteness.
We have 4 (soon to be even more) cats.
Grey C. is the eldest and has been with us longer than any of the other animals.
Baby is second, has had 2 kittens and is now expecting again.
Zorro and Tiger Lily are Baby’s kittens. And the cutest you’ll ever see!
We have 3 rabbits.
Hero is the male. I wanted to name him after some hero, but could not decide on one, so I simply named him Hero.
Missy belongs to my 8yo brother.
Bitsy belongs to my 3yo brother.
These three meat rabbits are going to be kept as breeding stock. I know it sounds horrible to some people, but we’ll be eating their offspring. (sorry!)
The plan is for me to train my brothers in how to take care of the rabbits so that they may one day take over the operation if and when I move away.
We have 6 Pekin ducks.
Mason. Named after Perry Mason in that awesome old TV show.
Drake. Named after Paul Drake in afore-mentioned show.
Della. Named after Della Street in… yes, you guessed it. ;)
Stella. Because it rhymed with Della I suppose.
And then come Molly and Dolly. I don’t know where those names came from, but they’re cute.
Then we have my favorite chicken, Ivory, who is a White Polish hen. She thinks she is a duck, following them wherever they go, drinking from their pond, and sleeping with them. She is definitely the funniest bird I have ever seen.
We currently have 34 chickens. I never knew that chickens could be so different from one another in the way they act. They all have their own attitudes and some are so naughty that they shall be sent to The Eternal Deep Freeze soon.
Well, there you have it. Our Cedar Cottage Farm has exactly 45 animals right now. When I am able to get some photos of our new rabbits, I shall post them here.
~ Mara
Thursday, October 13, 2011
~ Home is Where the Heart is ~
This blog post has been moved!
This post, Home is Where the Heart is, has been moved to my new blog.
~ Mara The Ornery Biologist
Thursday, September 29, 2011
~ Fall Weather ~
I love Autumn! The trees turn gorgeous hues of red, orange, and yellow and the weather is always a surprise. Today was in the 60's with light showers off and on and wind gusts harder than I ever remember seeing before.
This is what the sky looked like today. I find trees against a stormy sky a pretty contrast.
This is what the sky looked like today. I find trees against a stormy sky a pretty contrast. ~ Mara
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
~ Leedle Yawcob Strauss ~
I haf von funny leedle poy
Vot gomes shust to my knee,--
Der queerest schap, der queerest rouge
As efer you dit see.
He runs, und schumps, und schmashes
Dings
In all barts off der house.
But vot off dot? He vas my son,
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He gets der measles und der mumbs,
Und eferyding dot’s oudt;
He sbills mine glass off lager bier,
Poots schnuff indo mine kraut;
He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese--
Dot vas der roughest chouse;
I’d dake dot vrom no oder poy
But leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He dakes der milkban for a dhrum,
Und cuts mine cane in dwo
To make der schticks to beat it mit--
Mine cracious, dot vas drue!
I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart
He kicks oup sooch a touse;
But nefer mind, der poys vas few
Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.
He asks me questions sooch as dese:
Who baints mine nose so red?
Who vas it cuts dot schmoodth blace
Oudt
Vroom der hair ubon my head?
Und vhere der plaze goes vroom der
Lamp
Vene’er der glim I douse?
How gan I all dese dings eggsplain
To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?
I somedimes dink I schall go vild
Mit sooch a grazy poy,
Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest
Und beaceful dimes enshoy.
But ven he vas asleep in ped,
So quiet as a mouse,
I prays der Lord, “Dake anydings,
But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”
~ Charles F. Adams
This is by far one of my favorite poems and I felt the need to share. :)
Vot gomes shust to my knee,--
Der queerest schap, der queerest rouge
As efer you dit see.
He runs, und schumps, und schmashes
Dings
In all barts off der house.
But vot off dot? He vas my son,
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He gets der measles und der mumbs,
Und eferyding dot’s oudt;
He sbills mine glass off lager bier,
Poots schnuff indo mine kraut;
He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese--
Dot vas der roughest chouse;
I’d dake dot vrom no oder poy
But leedle Yawcob Strauss.
He dakes der milkban for a dhrum,
Und cuts mine cane in dwo
To make der schticks to beat it mit--
Mine cracious, dot vas drue!
I dinks mine hed vas schplit abart
He kicks oup sooch a touse;
But nefer mind, der poys vas few
Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.
He asks me questions sooch as dese:
Who baints mine nose so red?
Who vas it cuts dot schmoodth blace
Oudt
Vroom der hair ubon my head?
Und vhere der plaze goes vroom der
Lamp
Vene’er der glim I douse?
How gan I all dese dings eggsplain
To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?
I somedimes dink I schall go vild
Mit sooch a grazy poy,
Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest
Und beaceful dimes enshoy.
But ven he vas asleep in ped,
So quiet as a mouse,
I prays der Lord, “Dake anydings,
But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.”
~ Charles F. Adams
This is by far one of my favorite poems and I felt the need to share. :)
Thursday, September 8, 2011
~ Castles In The Air ~
We all have a castle in the air of some sort. It’s built on dreams, surrounded by wishes, and kept up with hopes. Our castles are always under construction, as each day brings a new idea of what we want for our future.
As we mature we find that not everything in life is perfect; sometimes it’s going to be a little rough and sometimes we’ll feel like we’re walking on clouds. But no matter what happens, we still have our castles. So we lie in the grass looking up at the stars while we build on our dreams . . .
Love & Marriage ~ When two people know for sure they are ready to give their heart to the other for life and take that big step towards marriage. The love of a family is grand, and the love of friends is comforting, but the love of that special someone is worth so much more - even more so when the love of God envelopes them all. The two become one, stay true and faithful, and never say goodbye until death parts their ways.
Home ~ We all have our ideas of what we want home to be like. It’s a haven and no matter if we live in a tiny apartment, or a grand old mansion, it’s our castle. My castle is a large white farm house on a hill, overlooking brilliant green pastures dotted with tree stumps and grey rocks, and a creek winding through the midst. Gardens here, fruit trees there; a perfect picture of peace.
Children ~ They are a blessing sent straight from God. A gift of love from above, a gift to teach us patience, and a gift to remind us that we have a great purpose in life; to teach our children right from wrong and watch them grow to build castles of their own.
Now that I have explained to you my ideas of a castle, do tell me yours for I would dearly love to hear!
<3 Meanwhile we keep building those turrets high, stretching hopes beyond the sky. <3
~ Mara
As we mature we find that not everything in life is perfect; sometimes it’s going to be a little rough and sometimes we’ll feel like we’re walking on clouds. But no matter what happens, we still have our castles. So we lie in the grass looking up at the stars while we build on our dreams . . .
Love & Marriage ~ When two people know for sure they are ready to give their heart to the other for life and take that big step towards marriage. The love of a family is grand, and the love of friends is comforting, but the love of that special someone is worth so much more - even more so when the love of God envelopes them all. The two become one, stay true and faithful, and never say goodbye until death parts their ways.
Home ~ We all have our ideas of what we want home to be like. It’s a haven and no matter if we live in a tiny apartment, or a grand old mansion, it’s our castle. My castle is a large white farm house on a hill, overlooking brilliant green pastures dotted with tree stumps and grey rocks, and a creek winding through the midst. Gardens here, fruit trees there; a perfect picture of peace.
Children ~ They are a blessing sent straight from God. A gift of love from above, a gift to teach us patience, and a gift to remind us that we have a great purpose in life; to teach our children right from wrong and watch them grow to build castles of their own.
Now that I have explained to you my ideas of a castle, do tell me yours for I would dearly love to hear!
<3 Meanwhile we keep building those turrets high, stretching hopes beyond the sky. <3
~ Mara
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
~ Sounds of the Night ~
This post has moved!
This post, Sounds of The Night, has been moved to my new blog.
~ Mara The Ornery Biologist
Saturday, August 13, 2011
~ The Beauty of it All ~
This blog post has been moved!
This post, The Beauty of it All, has been moved to my new blog.
~ Mara
This post, The Beauty of it All, has been moved to my new blog.
~ Mara
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
~ Country Life ~
Country life is a life of satisfaction.
To wake up in the morning with chickens clucking softly, kittens playing in the grass, and the Pileated Woodpecker crying it’s haunting call through the misty pines. Walking through the dewy grass on your way to feed the ducks, strolling down the drive with the early morning warblers cheeping as you go by, and fresh animal tracks telling tales from the night gone past.
Country mornings are like a different world, far away from the noisy vehicles and the hum of the city life.
By late morning into the early afternoon, picking fresh blackberries, blueberries and wild strawberries is a peaceful job. Then comes deciding whether or not to attempt jam or pie first. Or perhaps a juice of some kind, though how to do that I do not yet know.
The warm, sunny afternoon shows all the beautiful wild flowers in bloom. A large bouquet of these in hand, strolling through the enchanted forest and meeting a handsome prince who lives only in my imagination. Perhaps I was wrong when I said people over-romanticized country living. There is a romantic sort of feeling when you pick your own fruits and vegetables, tend to your very own animals, and chop your own wood to feed your fire on the coldest winter nights.
On summer nights when the moon is shining bright through the oaks, and the breeze causes the leaves to cast dancing shadows on the ground, sitting on the front steps listening to the tree frogs and crickets is the best kind of lullaby ever created.
Sleeping with the window open, listening to the far-off train whistle and the “who cooks for you all” owl sitting in the tall fir right outside… sleep comes quickly and refreshes you for the next dewy morning when the romantic country routine starts over again.
~ Mara
Monday, August 8, 2011
~ Life is a Beautiful Thing ~
God gave us life. Life to live, free as birds and not puppets on strings. We can choose to follow Him or we can choose to follow the world. Life is more beautiful when we choose to follow Him. Far more beautiful than when we choose to walk the path of sin, sadness and despair. When we meet with the bad things in life and we don’t know God, everything falls to pieces. When we meet those same things as a Christian, we can ask for peace and it will be given.
God gave us love. Love enough to give to him and the people in this world. There are different kinds of love; love for the Savior is sweeter than anything. Love for our family members and friends is gratefully received and more given in return. And the love for that one important person in our life is something different from the others. We love that person with all our heart, through the good times and the bad. When we have love for God and love for that one person, life can throw all of those bad things at us and we won’t budge.
God gave us hard work. We weren’t made to sit around and have things done for us. God created souls inside of machines and those machines are our bodies. We take care of them, both physically and spiritually, and they’ll run just fine. Men work to take care of their women and children, the women work to take care of their men and children, and the children work in their own little way to make this world a happier place to be.
~ Mara
God gave us love. Love enough to give to him and the people in this world. There are different kinds of love; love for the Savior is sweeter than anything. Love for our family members and friends is gratefully received and more given in return. And the love for that one important person in our life is something different from the others. We love that person with all our heart, through the good times and the bad. When we have love for God and love for that one person, life can throw all of those bad things at us and we won’t budge.
God gave us hard work. We weren’t made to sit around and have things done for us. God created souls inside of machines and those machines are our bodies. We take care of them, both physically and spiritually, and they’ll run just fine. Men work to take care of their women and children, the women work to take care of their men and children, and the children work in their own little way to make this world a happier place to be.
~ Mara
Monday, August 1, 2011
~ Happenings Here ~
Oh, how often I neglect my poor Cranberry Crane. Allow me to go over some things that have happened as of late . . .
We have had some gorgeous sunsets ~
I found the biggest snails I have ever seen. They were very neat ~
Our ducks are now full-grown and should soon produce eggs ~
Our chickens are almost as big as our ducks now and should also soon produce eggs ~
Right now we are attending VBS at our church. It is lots of fun! :)
~ Mara
We have had some gorgeous sunsets ~
I found the biggest snails I have ever seen. They were very neat ~
Our ducks are now full-grown and should soon produce eggs ~
Our chickens are almost as big as our ducks now and should also soon produce eggs ~
Right now we are attending VBS at our church. It is lots of fun! :)
~ Mara
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
~ Dusty ~
My bunniest friend for over 7 years.
I love writing short stories about my life and my blog is my online diary. Writing is a good way to get things off my chest and I don’t have to bore anyone who doesn’t care to listen. This way I feel like I am telling someone and the people who care can read it for themselves. :)
Tonight I am writing about my pet rabbit, Dusty. I do not remember the day or the exact year that we got him, but I do remember picking him out. As soon as I saw that little white and tan bunny I knew he was perfect. We got him from a feed store in Richland Center, Wisconsin and I rode home with him in a little cardboard box. Oh, it took all my strength not to peek in at him just a teency bit. For 3 years he practically sat in our dining room. There was a small porch right outside the dining room and a window close to the ground. His cage fit perfectly so that it opened up into the room. That meant not having to go outside in the winter and I would open the window to let him have our heat and air conditioning, depending on the weather.
When it was time to move to Black River Falls, Dusty went to live with Grandpa and Grandma in Tomah. Though Grandma loved having him, I now wish I could have kept him for those 4 years. It doesn’t feel very fair to have only visited him once in a while. Last year when we moved here to Tomah, I could not wait to have Dusty moved back here with us and I got the necessary things done quickly so he could. Unfortunately, winter came too soon and stayed too long and I only got short visiting times with my bunny. After the weather turned nice this spring, he went into his summer cage out in the grass, and until yesterday he was the happiest, most care-free rabbit in existence. I am very sad but also glad that he had just gone to sleep like any other night. He never got mean or fat or cranky. He never started biting like my very old rabbit, Whiskers did. It was so cute to watch Dusty trim his own toenails and I was happy that I didn’t have to do it. And his little teeth were even and always in good shape. It hasn’t really sunk in yet… seeing him laying still in his cage and having to put my favorite pet in the ground seems like a terrible dream. But I just think of all the times he made me laugh and I feel better. Or I look at the pictures my siblings drew of him and tell them it’s all OK.
Well, I hope this story did not come across as a terrible tear-jerker but I feel much better after writing about him. I never thought I would grow so attached to a rabbit, they’re so quite and you can’t teach them anything. But maybe that’s what makes them so nice; they are so dependant on their owners.
I’ll miss Dusty a lot and probably for a long time, but I am very happy he lived a full bunny life. And I feel better still that Momma is going to give me our male breeding rabbit when we get them. Even though no rabbit will ever be as wonderful and nice as Dusty.
~ Mara
I love writing short stories about my life and my blog is my online diary. Writing is a good way to get things off my chest and I don’t have to bore anyone who doesn’t care to listen. This way I feel like I am telling someone and the people who care can read it for themselves. :)
Tonight I am writing about my pet rabbit, Dusty. I do not remember the day or the exact year that we got him, but I do remember picking him out. As soon as I saw that little white and tan bunny I knew he was perfect. We got him from a feed store in Richland Center, Wisconsin and I rode home with him in a little cardboard box. Oh, it took all my strength not to peek in at him just a teency bit. For 3 years he practically sat in our dining room. There was a small porch right outside the dining room and a window close to the ground. His cage fit perfectly so that it opened up into the room. That meant not having to go outside in the winter and I would open the window to let him have our heat and air conditioning, depending on the weather.
When it was time to move to Black River Falls, Dusty went to live with Grandpa and Grandma in Tomah. Though Grandma loved having him, I now wish I could have kept him for those 4 years. It doesn’t feel very fair to have only visited him once in a while. Last year when we moved here to Tomah, I could not wait to have Dusty moved back here with us and I got the necessary things done quickly so he could. Unfortunately, winter came too soon and stayed too long and I only got short visiting times with my bunny. After the weather turned nice this spring, he went into his summer cage out in the grass, and until yesterday he was the happiest, most care-free rabbit in existence. I am very sad but also glad that he had just gone to sleep like any other night. He never got mean or fat or cranky. He never started biting like my very old rabbit, Whiskers did. It was so cute to watch Dusty trim his own toenails and I was happy that I didn’t have to do it. And his little teeth were even and always in good shape. It hasn’t really sunk in yet… seeing him laying still in his cage and having to put my favorite pet in the ground seems like a terrible dream. But I just think of all the times he made me laugh and I feel better. Or I look at the pictures my siblings drew of him and tell them it’s all OK.
Well, I hope this story did not come across as a terrible tear-jerker but I feel much better after writing about him. I never thought I would grow so attached to a rabbit, they’re so quite and you can’t teach them anything. But maybe that’s what makes them so nice; they are so dependant on their owners.
I’ll miss Dusty a lot and probably for a long time, but I am very happy he lived a full bunny life. And I feel better still that Momma is going to give me our male breeding rabbit when we get them. Even though no rabbit will ever be as wonderful and nice as Dusty.
I loved you, my little Dustbunny. <3
~ Mara
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
~ Back in Jackson County ~ 310 Fillmore Black River Falls ~
~ 310 Fillmore ~ Black River Falls
That’s where we lived back in Jackson County.
Sometime before…
The company Dad was working for was branching out and one of the places they chose for a store was Black River Falls. A small town of around 3,000 people. I don’t remember much about the discussions we had as a family but I do know we talked about it a lot. We were living in Richland Center in Richland County, Wisconsin. We had a nice big house with many rooms and, for us children, many hiding places for Hide-and-Seek. But though the house may have been large, it had a few issues. It didn’t seem like long before we had decided we would move to Black River Falls and a new life - and was it ever a good choice.
We traveled to Black River Falls to go house shopping and met 310 Fillmore, a cozy square house that always reminded me of a cottage. From the outside it looked to be half the size of our house in Richland Center, but once inside it was spacious; with good-sized rooms and knotty pine walls in some of them. 4 bedrooms, 2 baths and what seemed like a huge kitchen compared to our last. It didn’t take many discussions before we decided - 310 Fillmore would be our new home.
I guess I always took that house for granted. After a while it seemed too small, with not enough cupboard space and I couldn‘t have my own room - I had to share with 2 siblings. But now I look back and I wish I could somehow pick that house up and set it down where we live now. When I think about it now it seems huge, with that big white kitchen that had 7 windows… and now I share a small room with all of my sisters and have only my bunk to call my very own. There are good things and not so good things about this home. But that is what it is; our home. Here we live right next to our grandparents, have plenty of room for numerous gardens and we can have animals. We don’t constantly have neighbors screaming that they are going to commit suicide like we did in Black River Falls, though there *is* a crazy lady that lives across the road and she gets visits from the Sheriff. We can go outside and not worry that someone will walk down the sidewalk and carry us off. We can yell at the top of our lungs if we want to and nobody can tell us to be quiet. And best of all… we don’t just do our homeschooling in our pajamas - we do our chores in our pajamas! Shocking, isn’t it? ;)
So… to wrap up my reminiscing post… I am content here with our 8.5 acres, dog, cats, ducks, rabbits, and chickens. Perhaps some dairy goats, maybe even a mule someday. And I know that when I get married and move away I’ll be reminiscing about this home.
~ Mara
That’s where we lived back in Jackson County.
Sometime before…
The company Dad was working for was branching out and one of the places they chose for a store was Black River Falls. A small town of around 3,000 people. I don’t remember much about the discussions we had as a family but I do know we talked about it a lot. We were living in Richland Center in Richland County, Wisconsin. We had a nice big house with many rooms and, for us children, many hiding places for Hide-and-Seek. But though the house may have been large, it had a few issues. It didn’t seem like long before we had decided we would move to Black River Falls and a new life - and was it ever a good choice.
We traveled to Black River Falls to go house shopping and met 310 Fillmore, a cozy square house that always reminded me of a cottage. From the outside it looked to be half the size of our house in Richland Center, but once inside it was spacious; with good-sized rooms and knotty pine walls in some of them. 4 bedrooms, 2 baths and what seemed like a huge kitchen compared to our last. It didn’t take many discussions before we decided - 310 Fillmore would be our new home.
I guess I always took that house for granted. After a while it seemed too small, with not enough cupboard space and I couldn‘t have my own room - I had to share with 2 siblings. But now I look back and I wish I could somehow pick that house up and set it down where we live now. When I think about it now it seems huge, with that big white kitchen that had 7 windows… and now I share a small room with all of my sisters and have only my bunk to call my very own. There are good things and not so good things about this home. But that is what it is; our home. Here we live right next to our grandparents, have plenty of room for numerous gardens and we can have animals. We don’t constantly have neighbors screaming that they are going to commit suicide like we did in Black River Falls, though there *is* a crazy lady that lives across the road and she gets visits from the Sheriff. We can go outside and not worry that someone will walk down the sidewalk and carry us off. We can yell at the top of our lungs if we want to and nobody can tell us to be quiet. And best of all… we don’t just do our homeschooling in our pajamas - we do our chores in our pajamas! Shocking, isn’t it? ;)
So… to wrap up my reminiscing post… I am content here with our 8.5 acres, dog, cats, ducks, rabbits, and chickens. Perhaps some dairy goats, maybe even a mule someday. And I know that when I get married and move away I’ll be reminiscing about this home.
~ Mara
Sunday, May 29, 2011
~ Haunting Cries ~
Before hearing them I never would have guessed that any mammal would scare me enough to the point where I could almost scream myself. Cougars are no laughing matter, I assure all my readers. I developed an odd mixture of fear and interest back in late December…
Mom had to walk the dog so Sara stayed on the deck to keep watch. For two reasons. - 1) because we had heard coyotes in our woods the night before and seen their tracks the next morning and 2) because there had been signs of a cougar in the neighborhood. After a couple of minutes, Mom noticed that Crockett was pointed at one spot in the woods: The pit where we dumped our left-overs. It was snowing and too dark to see all the way to the edge of the woods but she knew he had seen/heard something. Then a strange sound came from the pit - a deep grumbling growl mixed with a steady purr. The rest of us were inside and heard Mom shout for Sara to get in the house. Mom took me out to stay on the deck and listen. Then I heard it. And I am telling you it was the scariest sound I had ever heard! It was right over by the pit, but no matter how hard I strained I couldn't see a thing. That is the worst situation to be in - to hear a cougar but not see it. The growling purr lasted for around 3o seconds, long enough for us to realize that it sounded as if the cougar was walking as it growled, puffing in the cold night air.
To read that entire story… http://thecranberrycrane.blogspot.com/2010/12/cougar-screams.html
This evening I heard it again. Not a scream, growl or purr like I had heard before but a piercing shriek ringing out through the chilly night air.
Here is a bit of information on the cougar that I read from a book published in 1940 ---
“…Once within striking distance, it bounds forward and crushes it’s prey to earth. It has been known to leap twenty feet into the air to land on a branch and to jump twice that distance to the ground.
The great cat promptly begins to gorge itself. When sated, [satisfied] it delicately licks it’s blood-spattered face and paws and goes off for a nap. On awakening it returns to finish off the carcass or, if the prey is too large, drags it to a lair among the rocks.”
Now you see why it is no laughing matter!
Mom had to walk the dog so Sara stayed on the deck to keep watch. For two reasons. - 1) because we had heard coyotes in our woods the night before and seen their tracks the next morning and 2) because there had been signs of a cougar in the neighborhood. After a couple of minutes, Mom noticed that Crockett was pointed at one spot in the woods: The pit where we dumped our left-overs. It was snowing and too dark to see all the way to the edge of the woods but she knew he had seen/heard something. Then a strange sound came from the pit - a deep grumbling growl mixed with a steady purr. The rest of us were inside and heard Mom shout for Sara to get in the house. Mom took me out to stay on the deck and listen. Then I heard it. And I am telling you it was the scariest sound I had ever heard! It was right over by the pit, but no matter how hard I strained I couldn't see a thing. That is the worst situation to be in - to hear a cougar but not see it. The growling purr lasted for around 3o seconds, long enough for us to realize that it sounded as if the cougar was walking as it growled, puffing in the cold night air.
To read that entire story… http://thecranberrycrane.blogspot.com/2010/12/cougar-screams.html
This evening I heard it again. Not a scream, growl or purr like I had heard before but a piercing shriek ringing out through the chilly night air.
Here is a bit of information on the cougar that I read from a book published in 1940 ---
“…Once within striking distance, it bounds forward and crushes it’s prey to earth. It has been known to leap twenty feet into the air to land on a branch and to jump twice that distance to the ground.
The great cat promptly begins to gorge itself. When sated, [satisfied] it delicately licks it’s blood-spattered face and paws and goes off for a nap. On awakening it returns to finish off the carcass or, if the prey is too large, drags it to a lair among the rocks.”
Now you see why it is no laughing matter!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
~ Our Critters ~
Dusty, at 7 years old, is our oldest pet here on Cedar Cottage Farm.
Crockett comes next at a little over 1 year.
Then there's Grey C. She is just under a year old.
Then Baby. She is going to be a first-time mommy soon!
Then come our ducks, who hatched April 12th.
And last, but not least, our chicks. Hatched May 18th.
We just received the chicks this morning and already I am wishing they were old enough to be outside. It's incredible how much noise they can make!
~ Mara
Sunday, May 8, 2011
~ Growing Up ~
Our "baby" ducks are very big now! And extremely soft... :)
Not much has happened lately other than building a temporary enclosure for the ducks. I will post pictures of it soon.
~ Mara
Not much has happened lately other than building a temporary enclosure for the ducks. I will post pictures of it soon.
~ Mara
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