Spring Surprises in the Courtyard Garden

Suddenly the temperatures appear to have decided they're tired of dropping below freezing. Not to be outdone, the soaking spring rains have put in a couple appearances in the last week or so. To top it all off, the sun has come out in between the rains and provided enough warmth to jumpstart the plants...and, wow, spring finally appears to have arrived for good.

I had written off quite a few shade plants in my courtyard garden late last summer, when they seemed to dry up and disappear much earlier than normal seasonal deciduousness would warrant. With the final arrival of warmer weather this spring, though, I'm realizing that I was too hasty. Almost all of my hostas are boldly pushing up, the heucheras are magically adding leaves by the dozens, the hellebores are finally putting on enough new growth they don't look terminally freezer-burned, and...(Ta-dah!) a few fern fiddleheads are unrolling through the leaf litter.

I really didn't think there was any way that ANY of the ferns would make it. Having re-whetted my desire for ferns after 6 years in Mobile, I'd consulted books and local fern folks and put in 3 each of 4 different species that I thought had a reasonable chance of making it here in south-central Kansas: autumn fern, log fern, Japanese painted fern, and Japanese holly fern. I'd put them in late, though, then accidentally let the entire garden get too dry during a sudden weather change in late summer from "relatively cool & amazingly wet" to "dry & windy & rather hot." Predictably, the ferns pretty much folded up shop...and I chalked their demise up to my tendency to be just a little too laissez-faire sometimes.

So I could hardly believe my eyes yesterday when I spotted a fiddlehead emerging from the leaf litter, back in the corner where I'd planted the log ferns. Looking more carefully, I spotted a couple more fiddleheads that weren't up quite as high yet. Two of the 3 log ferns have definitely survived the winter!

Then I checked out the other ferns: 2 out of 3 of the Japanese painted ferns AND 2 out of 3 of the autumn ferns are definitely putting up new growth. So far it's only the Japanese holly ferns that appear to have taken the late summer assault personally.

While I'm celebrating the survival of some of my ferns, I also have to share a new favorite plant of mine that lives in the courtyard garden: liverleaf. It's a horrible name for a plant that I think is extremely cute and lovable. I bought the plants, which were labeled as Hepatica americana, at the Dyck Arboretum sale last spring, but after doing some web research, I suspect they are actually Hepatica acutiloba. Either way, the common name liverleaf will do. They're native to the woodlands of Missouri, but I'm not sure they naturally occur this far west.

Each plant is about the size of a violet this year. They looked like gray, hairy fungi as they were coming up, then they unfurled into these classy-looking sweethearts. My only disappointment is that they didn't bloom for me this year. Maybe next year.

I'm having so much fun going around and watching plants emerge that it's hard for me to settle down and concentrate on my spring gardening chores! A few newbies from last year are getting ready to bloom soon, so this proud new Mama will probably be sharing pictures of her new babies' first blooms in the near future. Be forewarned!

Unexpected Guests

Another new species for the property! While I was talking on the phone with my mother this morning, I noticed a "new" bird in the trees around the feeder.

A yellow-headed blackbird!!!

As I continued watching, about half a dozen slowly showed themselves, taking advantage of the easy pickin's at the feeder. There is absolutely no mistaking what species of bird these guys are!

A Rose By Any Other Name....

I am wanting to give our acreage a name. Somehow it feels like naming this little area will help solidify its identity as a particular spot on this planet, giving it more substance and gravitas. Ideally the name will carry connotations of our goal of prairie restoration, as well as bringing to mind the peace that living here brings us and the plants and animals that share this spot with us.

I started playing with some form of "Windswept" when we first moved here, but lately I've decided that has a slightly negative feel to it. So I changed it to "Wind Dance" but something still isn't solidying. "Prairie Haven" came to mind, but that seems a little banal. And there I'm stuck.

Something with "meadowlark" in it, since they nest in our back 5 acres? What else could I use to symbolize our little bit of prairie?

If you have any ideas or suggestions, please let me know. Inspiration isn't striking me, so I hope by putting the question out into the blogosphere, it will grace someone else and then sneak in the back door to us. At any rate, I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

Burn, Baby, Burn!

Along with (apparently) 107 other folks in Sedgwick County, we took advantage of light winds last Wednesday to burn our grassland.

Not all of it, of course, just the front tallgrass. To continue decreasing sweetclover and prairie three-awn grass, we had wanted to burn the back 5 acres again this spring, but the draw has held water all winter long and we can't get the tractor across it to mow the firebreaks. So we settled for burning off the remnants of 2 years' growth in the big bluestem-Indiangrass-brome mix that constitutes the front prairie on our place, between the house and the street.

The burn went very well overall. There were only a few "Oh, no!" moments when the wind suddenly seemed to switch or, most excitingly, when a big dust devil formed. The dust devil was especially interesting. It formed right behind the fire line, danced across the blackened, smoking area that had just finished burning, shimmied across the firebreak, and melted into a big cedar by the creek. Since it had stirred up a hot spot and picked up a few live embers just before it crossed the firebreak and entered the cedar, we could have had a real big problem on our hands, but luck was with us. Greg immediately went over (with the hose) to check it out, dousing the area in general, but nothing seemed to have ignited.

As we got past the pine trees and cedar trees that formed a potential "ladder" to the house, I felt confident enough to snap a couple pictures of the burn, but with only 3 of us (Prairiewolf, his Dad, and me) tending the fire, I didn't want to take my attention away from my side of the fire in the early stages of the burn.

It was a good, complete burn...and, less than a week later, I'm already seeing new green sprouts coming up through the black ashes. It will be fun to see if we've released any leftover wildflowers that had been overshadowed by the tallgrasses around them. It's amazing how much the prairie can change from year to year, when you know what to look for.

Learning a Bit About Black-Footed Ferrets in Kansas

Last night, Prairiewolf and I attended an interesting lecture at Dyck Arboretum on the reintroduction of the black-footed ferrets (an endangered species) into western Kansas. The speaker was Dan Mulhern, of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. He's a wildlife biologist in charge of the re-introduction project here in Kansas.

A few interesting facts that Dan shared with us....

Black-footed ferrets require large colonies of prairie dogs to survive. Prairie dogs are the ferrets' only food. Not only do they eat them, the ferrets live in the colonies along with the prairie dogs (actually living in the prairie dog burrows). A single ferret will eat about 200 "dogs" per year. While this seems like a fair number of prairie dogs to eat, the ferrets do not occur at a dense enough population to control the prairie dog populations. (Of course, ferrets are far from the only animal that preys on prairie dogs! Prairie dogs are "lucky" enough to be food for a great many other predators - many of whose populations are also in trouble, due to the declining numbers of prairie dogs.)

An aside here: Prairie dogs are seen by cattle ranchers as extremely threatening competitors for grass. Thus ranchers have traditionally done everything they can, including massive poisoning campaigns, to get rid of prairie dogs. The poisons used, not surprisingly, kill many other, "non-target" animals too, from eagles and badgers to turkeys, burrowing owls, and black-footed ferrets.

Black-footed ferrets were thought to be extinct for several years in the 1970's. Luckily a small population was discovered in Wyoming. Because of the threat of sylvatic plague killing off this last population, these animals were captured and formed the basis of a captive breeding program.

All known black-footed ferrets alive today are descended from 7 individual animals captured from that Wyoming population.

Ferret re-introduction is far from a "sure thing," especially in Kansas. In this state, local governmental units have the legal right to go on private property and poison prairie dogs, even if the property owner specifically wants the prairie dogs on his or her property and/or doesn't want the poison used. There have been legal battles being fought over the prairie dog colonies that form the home ground for many of the reintroduced black-footed ferrets on a large block of land owned by 3 landowners. The Logan County government is trying to assert its "legal right" to poison these prairie dog colonies, and the land-owners are trying to keep them from being able to do so. For a while, the case was being tried in Shawnee County; recently the venue for the case has been changed to Logan County itself.

In the meantime, almost 50 years to the day since a black-footed ferret was last seen alive in Kansas, 24 ferrets were released in Logan County on December 18, 2007. Thirty-three percent (33%, or 8 animals) were confirmed to survive the first winter and by the fall of 2008, 4 litters of ferrets had been observed with a confirmed observation of 16 individuals. Fifty more ferrets were released last fall. Just 2 weeks ago, the second over-wintering survival survey was done. Dan reported that they located 19 ferrets, for a survival rate of at least 29%. (While these survival rates seem low, they are actually a little high for ferret re-introduction projects.) At least 7 of the ferrets located this month are females, so hopefully more litters will be born this summer.

It's an exciting and hopeful project, an attempt to right a wrong that we humans should never have let happen. Will it be successful? There is no way of knowing. Not only do the ferrets face the normal, biological hurdles of predation, disease, and the vagaries of weather, they also face the immense hurdle of human political pressure against the prairie dogs they depend upon. That's the wildest card of all.

What a Pansy I Was!

I have been seduced...by a pair of blue pansies and a fragrant, lavendar and yellow viola.

For years I have been staunchly anti-annual. "What a waste of time and money!" "Why plant something that you know is going to die soon...when you can spend a little bit more and have a plant that comes back year after year after year?" "Why would I want to plant something that I know I'm just going to have to plant again next year?"

About a week ago, though, on a rather cold and windy day, I stopped off at one of our local garden centers. There, in the greenhouse, were beautiful big baskets of gorgeous blue and white pansies, some with ruffled edges and others without. I just had to have a few to brighten the gloomy day.

Of course, in my normal way of over-doing it, I didn't buy just one of each. Oh, no. I bought 2 sixpacks of each. The next day I found a single, one gallon pot of Starry Night viola on a table at Lowe's. I could smell the fragrance from several feet away. That pot joined the pansies on the breezeway.

Finally today I started planting them. I'm trying to tuck them here and there, "naturally", among my prairie perennials and assorted hardy garden plants. They actually are making a very pretty combination with what's left of my daffodil blossoms! The Starry Night viola is going to grace the little table by my wicker rockers out front. That way I can have the fragrance "up close and personal" (as long as I can keep the container plant alive!).

To justify my fall from "perennials-only" principle, I've actually decided that, as far as annuals go, violas and pansies aren't bad. Violas/pansies/violets are larval plants for many of the fritillary butterflies. I have the little (native) johnny-jump-ups, Viola bicolor, all over the place anyway. Why not include some of their bigger cousins in my flowerbeds? After all, their rich blue faces make me smile.

Ranger Tries Again

Well, you can't say that he doesn't try!

I've mentioned that Ranger hasn't mastered bird hunting yet, much to my relief. It's not for lack of trying, though.

His first efforts involved quick darts from under the deck towards the bird feeders. The birds, naturally, just flew away.

So Ranger got trickier. About a month ago I saw him rolling in the grass and birdseed debris, then lying quietly next to the feeder. Camoflage?

That didn't work, so he quit bothering the birds for a while. The cotton rats were much easier prey and readily available. They must have gotten boring though, because he's back to trying for the birds again.

Today I saw a couple new techniques. First there was the stealth approach.....

When 30 minutes under the feeder didn't work, he decided that, "If the birds won't come to me, I'll go to them!" So up in the tree he went.

Nothing magically appeared, so he checked out the "link" between the finch feeder and the tree branch.

That wasn't fruitful. Maybe this basket of fat hanging here?

Still no luck. And while Ranger is ingenious at trying out new approaches, his patience is rather limited. So he quit for today...and the birds rapidly flew back in to reclaim their territory.

I shouldn't laugh, because one of these days he's going to be successful, but it's still rather humorous to see his repeated attempts. Maybe we should have named him Edison (of the Thousand and One Steps to Success)!

Further Adventures of Ranger, the Electro-Cat

Okay, the title is a little misleading. As long as Ranger gets to spend massive quantities of time outside, he's basically leaving electrical cords alone inside. I don't dare dangle them in front of him, though. He's definitely an opportunist!

Luckily with all of the time he spends outside, Ranger has not proven to be too adept at catching birds. (Yes, I'm knocking on wood - at least metaphorically - as I say that!) Animal-snob that I guess I am, I'm not too worried about the hispid cotton rat population that seems to provide him with the most frequent victims. It'll be another matter altogether if he starts getting Harris sparrows, Carolina wrens or goldfinch.

Anyway, I got quite a laugh last week when he suddenly discovered a fox squirrel that comes in occasionally to bulk up at the feeders. As I stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes, the first thing I noticed was a rusty blur streaking along the ground and up a tree. Then a black blur followed close behind it. When the action paused, the squirrel was high up in the branches of the green ash, chattering and flicking its tail vigorously, not letting its eyes leave Ranger. Ranger actually disappointed me - he climbed up in the tree and seemed to study all the angles for several minutes, but abandoned the chase that day after barely getting 1/3 of the way to his quarry.

By the next day, he was more determined, however, and worked his way at least halfway up the tree before deciding to go after easier prey. (Maybe the grayer day just had him more inclined to chase away his boredom.)

I'm quite sure that the squirrel can balance on far smaller branches than Ranger can, but it's going to be interesting to see how far out a limb Ranger is willing to go!

Late March Bird Tales

One of the most fascinating things to watch during a winter storm is the behavior of the birds. Given the number that showed up at my feeders during this storm, there must not be much natural food left around. This mob is a mix of red-winged blackbirds, cardinals, grackles, Harris sparrows, white crowned sparrows, and starlings. Judging from my usual mix, you can probably find a few house sparrows, a few house finch, some goldfinch and pine siskins, and a few juncos in the melee too.

On Friday I had fun watching a standoff between a starling and a red-bellied woodpecker, both determined to dominate one of the suet feeders. Obviously the cardinals thought it was pretty interesting too! (Oh, the red-bellied woodpecker won...at least temporarily. As soon as he was through, however, the starling came back with a couple friends and worked hard to reduce the amount of suet left. That'll teach the red-bellied!)

The cardinals come in to feed regularly throughout each day, usually in groups of 5-7. In the evening and during storms, though, I've counted over 20 at a time using the feeders or waiting for their turn. If you look carefully (and probably enlarge the photo a bit), I count 22 (15 males and 7 females) in this shot.

Spring Snow Storm

As I mentioned in my last post, starting on Friday we've been living through a spring storm. This particular storm seemed mixed up - it couldn't decide if it was a sleet storm, a freezing rain/ice storm, a snow storm, or a thunderstorm, so it gave us a fair amount of everything.

Today the temperatures are back up in the upper 40's and the remaining precipitation of all forms, leftover on the ground, is starting to rapidly melt. I'm not sure how my plants are going to be affected for the year, though, since many had already started to leaf out significantly, some even to bud and flower. So I took a few photos this morning....

The daylily foliage looked transparent and glassy where it stuck above the snow mix. Daylilies are hardy plants and I'm sure they won't take any lasting damage...but how ugly will they be this spring? Will all of this lovely new growth crumple and wither as soon as it melts?

This clump of yellow tulips came with the house, but the first year we were here it was almost nonexistent. Each spring it's gotten fuller, healthier and sported many more blossoms. This year it was holding close to a dozen buds, surrounded by a healthy number of leaves. The tulip blooms had just started opening a day or two before the storm hit. I can see some breakage...what will the total damage be?

I rescued this lovely bunch of peonies from an old garden in the area that was due to be sold. The timing was such that I had to move them during the heat of the summer, so they looked bad for quite a while last summer, then finally gave up the ghost and died back. I thought I'd lost them for good. I was really excited when they came up so vigorously this spring, but now their early emergence isn't so positive anymore....

Throughout the yard, there are so many other plants affected that I can't begin to list them all here. This is a photo looking down my courtyard perennial bed: the Dames' rocket clump in the foreground is definitely bedraggled and the leaves on the lilacs and Amur maples look suspiciously fragile. Will we have lilac blossoms and maple seeds? How sparse or "burned back" will their leaves be? Buried under the snow at the foot of the lilacs are grape hyacinths, sprouts from variegated Solomon's seal, Lamium and assorted other perennials beginning to wake up from their winter rest. I'm incurably optimistic about plants' ability to survive, but only time will tell how well.

Unappreciated Luxuries

Friday brought a sudden interruption to the beautiful spring weather. A spring storm descended with wickedly strong north winds, temperatures just below freezing, and lots and lots of sleet. All in all, though, that day wasn't so bad.

When we went to bed on Friday night, though, I noticed on my last trip out that it seemed to be raining lightly. That wasn't so good.

I, unfortunately, turned out to be correct both as to the type of precipitation coming down and as to my sense of foreboding. Yesterday morning when we woke up, the house was unnaturally quiet and rather chilly - the electricity had gone out during the night, leaving us without heat and without water. For starters.

The telephone line followed shortly thereafter.

I try hard to be aware and appreciative of the common things in life that we tend to take for granted, but every time the electricity goes off, I am brought up hard against the reality of how much I count on its steady presence in my life.

Anticipating possible interruptions in service, we were fine as to drinking water. Flushing, though, became a luxury. The house maintained its inside temperature reasonably well, considering the winds howling outside. (Thankfully the outside temperatures were in the upper 20's, not in the single digits or below.) After about 9 hours, the house temperature had only gone down 5 degrees.

Life, however, seemed suddenly put on hold. I needed to sort the clothes in my closet...but the thought of changing in and out of a series of outfits to check their fit seemed abhorent in the chilly temperatures. I needed to start my tomatoes, peppers and some herbs...but we had no water to moisten the germinating mix or to fill the reservoirs. I needed (badly) to sort the recycling paper...but it's boring enough while watching a movie; the thought of doing it without any sort of mental distraction seemed unbearable.

The cats and dog were grumpy because we wouldn't play the "Let the cat (dog) in, let the cat (dog) out" game.

And Prairiewolf and I were grumpy because we didn't have our appropriate morning caffeine drinks...having forgotten to buy any Coleman fuel for the camp stove.

So what did I miss the most over the course of the day? A shower - any shower, but preferably hot - and hot coffee. Seemingly minor, everyday things...but yesterday I realized what an unappreciated luxury they each are in my life.

Springtime Serenade

It's evening on St. Patty's Day. The temperature reached the upper 70's today, the sun shone brightly, the wind was light and breezy - in short, it was an idyllic spring day.

I put in the rest of the strawberries we had bought 10 days ago, leaving me with enough bed space for 24 more plants. I think I'll try a 3rd variety there - we saw Quinealt (a June-bearing variety) at Johnson's the other day. Or maybe I should put in 24 more Ozark Beauties? That would give me more everbearing plants, as well as hide a few of the everbearers on the backside of the bed, in case the cotton rats come calling from the tall grass.

I'd begun to despair of my "gamble garden", planted back on March 7th, but today I saw the first glimpses of green coming up in the area that I had planted to Drunken Woman lettuce. (I couldn't resist the name when I was ordering from Southern Exposure Seed Exchange!) Hopefully the peas, spinach, and the other lettuce variety I put in won't be too far behind.

Next, I "woke up" the front flower bed. Actually, no, that's taking way too much credit for myself. I should say that I noticed that many of the perennials in it were waking up on their own, so I "turned down their covers" by removing most of last year's growth and many of the leaves that had accumulated around their crowns over the winter. For once I did this early enough that I wasn't dodging all that new growth!

The entire time I worked I was serenaded by a combination of chorus frogs and birds.

Normally, auditory input isn't my strong suit. In fact, if I had had to learn in school through totally auditory means, I'm sure I would have failed miserably. However, I am finding that the natural sounds of a prairie sooth me in a subconscious way that I hadn't known was possible. I find myself relaxing and smiling, stopping every once in a while simply to listen.

How sad that most people don't get to enjoy this natural outside musical accompaniment anymore. Even in my mother's neighborhood, which boasts large yards and big farm ponds billed as lakes, the frogs have been gone for years. (In that case, my bet is that lawn chemicals were the cause of their disappearance, but it's purely a guess.) I know that some folks buy CDs of natural sounds to imitate this phenomenon, but there is no way that those CDs can come close to hearing the actual sounds, with the sun beaming down on you and a breeze playing with your hair.

So, for those of you who can, I urge you to open up your windows and wallow in the richness of the springtime frog chorus. And for those of you who can't hear them singing near your home? I can't think of a better reason to switch to organic yard maintenance and gardening for wildlife. You'll be glad you did.

A Quiet House

The house seems very still and quiet today. I had to take Becker in for leg surgery this morning and it feels like there is a missing piece here at home.

About 2 months ago he developed a limp in his right hind leg. We took him to the vet. They x-rayed his hips and generally checked him out, said he'd strained something and to keep him quiet. (Yeah, right.) So we did our best and his limp disappeared.

Then about a month ago the limp reappeared. This time dosing him with Rimadyl didn't help. We took him back to the vet, who diagnosed a torn cruciate ligament - the canine equivalent of a torn ACL in a human. Surgery was recommended, so off we went to the only veterinary surgeon in Wichita for a consultation.

There were a couple options, but the surgeon recommended a TPLO - tibial plateau leveling off, or something similar. It involves cutting part of the tibial head off and realigning it to transfer the forces from a forward and angular motion to an almost vertical motion when he uses his leg. By changing the pattern of force motion, it reduces stress on the knee joint and allows the tendon to heal...I think. Without surgery, the vets all said he'd be lame for the rest of his life.

So he's in having surgery. We'll have to keep him quiet for at least 8 weeks. (Ouch.) He's not supposed to climb flights of stairs during that time, meaning that he won't be able to sleep by our bed...which he won't understand. (After all, that's where the pack sleeps!)

I miss him. I'm worried about him. I'm nervous about keeping him appropriately quiet during his recovery. This, too, shall pass...but, oh, I wish I didn't have to put him through it!

Bird Feeding This Winter - Part III - Suet Takes the Cake

Suet is generally considered the food of choice for woodpeckers and maybe some chickadees. It's been interesting for me to note who has actually been eating it this winter.

The flicker, of course, fits the woodpecker stereotype:

The mockingbird, though, is definitely not an advertised suet lover - however, I only see my resident mocker(s) at either the suet or the water, and it's usually at the suet:

Then there are the "if he likes it so much, maybe I should try it" casual feeders, like this immature white crowned sparrow:

I've noticed cardinals in that last category too.

Of course, I've seen downy woodpeckers and red bellied woodpeckers eating lustily at the suet, too, as well as those pesky starlings. Usually the chickadees seem to prefer the black oil sunflower seeds in the hanging feeders, but sometimes they seem to crave something a little "stronger." Among my favorites feeding at the suet are the Carolina wrens who generally dart in during the late afternoon hours for a quick snack.

Whether suet, sunflower seed, thistle, cracked corn or a mix, the bird feeders have attracted a lot of life and action to the yard this winter. They and their gluttonous following keep me endlessly entertained during the cold months...and I feel satisfied, too, thinking of all the fertilizer they are depositing on the ground and of all the overwintering bugs that they are searching out for their "in-between meal snacks".

I can't imagine my wintertime yard without them.

The Gift That's Kept on Giving

Our wonderful friends, Flip and Shelley, gave us a bird bath for our deck railing at Christmas this year. We put it up about a week into January and waited to see what would happen.

Our history with heated bird baths in this yard was short, but not especially sweet, so we had some misgivings. When we first moved in two years ago, I'd put a heated bird bath on the ground not too far from the feeders. Within a few days, starlings had discovered it. Every time I filled it, a huge flock of starlings would descend within 20 minutes and bathe in it. Ten minutes later they would leave, presumably fresh and clean, while the bird bath had been emptied of most of its water...and the little water remaining was absolutely filthy.

For several days I tried to keep up with rinsing it out and refilling it with fresh water after the starlings left, but they would come back almost immediately and foul it again.

Finally, I just decided to let the birds fend for themselves. We have the draw out back and it usually has some open water in it, so I wasn't too worried. I just wouldn't be able to watch the birds as they drank and bathed.

Shortly after we put up this new addition in January, though, it started attracting more desireable "customers". At one time or another, almost every bird species that uses our feeders has winged over to wash the seed or suet down with a fresh, slightly warm drink of water.

Here are a few of those customers that I've managed to capture on camera:

The male cardinal - so vivid that no one else wanted to share the spotlight with him!

The social club (white crowned sparrows and a pine siskin), telling an immature white crowned sparrow who's waiting in line that it's just not his turn yet!

A Harris sparrow and a female cardinal, sharing a suspicious moment together.

I don't like feeding seed on or near the deck because of the undesireables that it draws, but this bird bath seems to be a perfect solution for bringing the birds in close enough to get a reasonable look at them. The starlings have come in onesies and twosies to drink, too, but they evidently want stable ground beneath their water for bathing, as that hasn't been an issue.

Thanks again, Flip and Shelley, for a wonderful addition to our backyard!

Bird Feeding This Winter, Part II - Migratory Anomalies

Another interesting thing I noticed this winter was that I had several individuals who spent the winter here from species that I would have expected to winter further south. Global warming? Or just an anomaly? Or simply the fact that I'm a little further south here than I was in Mayetta?

Here, for example, is a female red winged blackbird that I saw, off and on, with a flock of males all winter long. This photo was taken on January 12th:

Then there were the cowbirds. I had several of those visiting fairly regularly all through the winter too. This photo, of a brown-headed cowbird male feeding with 2 red winged blackbirds, an immature white crowned sparrow and a female cardinal, was taken on January 13th.

I didn't get a photo of the last major migratory anomaly that I noted: a single common grackle that also flocked with the red winged blackbirds at my feeders for much of the winter.

About a week ago, the grackles started coming through in large numbers, still mixed in with flocks of red-winged blackbirds. I'm hearing killdeer call, so I know that their migration has started too. I'm going to have to research a little further and see what, if anything, my oddball winter residents can teach me.

Bird Feeding This Winter

I try to do the Cornell FeederWatch program each winter. Or I should say that I used to do the FeederWatch, many years ago, when we lived in Mayetta, Kansas. I didn't bother doing it in Mobile, because we had so few birds. Besides which, because of the set-up of the back deck there, my feeders had to be set up so far away from the house that it was inconvenient to watch the birds consistently.

The winter after we moved here, I re-enrolled in FeederWatch and started regularly counting the birds at my feeders again, but I did not get around to entering my data. This winter I managed to both enroll myself AND start entering the data. Because I'm doing it on-line, I can count for 2 days every week, so I've chosen Mondays and Tuesdays. They've turned out to be frustratingly busy days, requiring me to be away from home quite a bit, but I've done the best I can.

I've noticed a few interesting things:

The FeederWatch folks are suspicious of my numbers of white crowned sparrows. I don't know why I have so many, but I seem to have become the winter hangout for both matures and immatures, in about a 1:2 ratio. It's hard to photograph the big flocks, because they often appear in the late afternoon, when the sun is getting low directly behind them and their brown feathers blend in well with the brown grass. Here, though, is a photo of a couple adults taking some liquid refreshment (in the company of a female cardinal) at our newly installed, deck rail "water bar".

(I started the winter with less than 10 white crowneds, soon went up to +/- 25 at a time, and actually recorded a couple cold days in January where there were over 50 at a time.)

Speaking of cardinals, another cold winter day I had over a dozen cardinals firing up the trees:

Harris sparrows are even more common at my feeders than white crowned sparrows are. My high count for those was over 100 at one time. This poor photo is an enlargement of a small portion from a much larger image. Despite its poor resolution, it shows the plumage of Harris sparrows better than any other photo I currently have. (Guess who needs to photograph a few more Harris sparrows?)

Well, more observations in another post, as 3-4 photos at the resolution I like to keep them is all that Blogger will accept per post.

Spring?! Maybe Not So Much

Be careful what you wish for.

We had 85 degrees last Thursday, according to a post I wrote last Friday. Last night it got below 20 degrees. Today it managed to reach, grudgingly, 36. Tonight's supposed to be back down to 20 again. Then tomorrow we're slated for a high in the upper 30's again.

I had decided I was ready for spring, doggoneit!

We were supposed to get rain when all of this rolled through. That would have been a fair exchange, but we stayed bone dry on Saturday while the storms aimed about 15 miles north of us, then we received the huge total of 1/8" when they reappeared on Monday. Hardly enough to be worth the multiple tornado and severe thunderstorm warnings that we had to suffer through. (On the other hand, we didn't get any tornadoes, golf ball sized hail, or 100 mph winds either! I do appreciate the storms' forbearance in that regard.)

Looking on the positive side, little has leafed out or flowered out enough that I think these temperatures will be a major setback. The strawberry plants we bought Saturday are tucked into the garage, since we were in the process of hardening them off when the cold came back. The asparagus crowns I put in on Sunday should be safely below ground where these temperatures won't do much to them. And the "gamble garden" I put in on Saturday (peas, lettuce, spinach) may or may not come up...but it was a gamble garden, after all.

It's supposed to slowly warm up through the weekend, until we settle for a while in the 30's at night and in the 60's during the day. Those temperatures sound pretty spring-like to me. I'm definitely looking forward to their arrival.

Further Adventures of Electro-Cat

When last I was blogging regularly, we were having issues with our young black cat, Ranger, who seemed addicted to the buzz he got (literally and figuratively) from chewing through electrical cords.

We tried buying a plethora of new cat toys and giving them to him one at a time, replacing each "boring" one with a fresh new one. That worked for a couple days, but toys just couldn't compare with real "juice."

We were at last confronted with the ultimate decision: Ranger either had to go back to the shelter (where he would probably be unadoptable due to his rather bizarre habit) or we would have to start letting him outside. I didn't want an outdoor cat but, faced with the alternative, I decided it was the lesser of the two evils.

Ranger was petrified at first. I'd throw him outside when I caught him chewing on a cord and he'd cower under the potting bench on the breezeway until I opened the door again. Then he'd dart back in. After a few days, I saw him cautiously explore the yard a bit. By the time a week had gone by, though, our other cat, T.J., was green with jealousy and decided that he wanted to be an outdoor cat too. I tried to keep him in, but he got increasingly adept at sneaking out and I finally just gave up the battle. Once T.J. was outside, Ranger seemed to think that being outdoors was great fun.

Now they are both outside as much or more than they are inside. We try to keep them inside at night since we have cat-eating coyotes that roam the property, as evidenced by the claws I've found in their scat. So far, so good on that account. Ranger has become quite the ratter. I don't mind his thinning the cotton rat population, especially around the house and flower beds, but it is very hard to watch him playing with his prey for hours at a time before killing them. The ultimate cat toy, I'm afraid.

I've observed that most cats seem to become birders or mousers/ratters preferentially. Ranger has tried to go for birds, as the photo below evidences, but he's much more successful with the rats. That's probably best for almost everybody concerned...rats excluded.

Spring in Kansas

Wow. I knew it had been a while since I posted, but I had no idea it's been almost 2 months! No wonder blog entries are floating around my brain constantly these days: I haven't given myself a good chance to clear them out lately.

Be that as it may, I have to write and celebrate the beginning of spring.

Of course, I'm in Kansas, so the first rule of thumb is that spring in Kansas is capricious, to say the least. A week ago Wednesday it was 76 degrees F.; last Saturday we woke up to 12 degrees F.; yesterday it was 85 degrees F. I am SOOO glad for our heated and air conditioned house. Sometimes I think it's amazing that any plants or animals can survive this land of extremes.

Saturday was especially humorous, since I woke up to the return of deep cold outside, then shortly thereafter found the first tick of the year...unfortunately crawling on my head. Presumably I have one of the cats to thank for that gift.

Truthfully, I've been talking to the weather gods for the last several weeks, asking for colder temperatures for a while still. I really hate early springs, since they are so often accompanied by the heartbreak of a late, killing frost. The weather gods have not been listening to me however...except maybe for that brief sop to their conscience at the end of last week. I gave up begging yesterday. Something in the air got to me...and I've suddenly turned a psychological corner now, where my mind and body are screaming, "It's spring! Get outside and get busy! Grow, plants, grow!"

Of course, also typical of Kansas, after 2 years of major moisture (literally record-setting last year), the skies have turned off and we've had almost no moisture at all for the entire winter. Things aren't critical yet, but I'd sure be happy to see a few days of heavy drizzle. Given the lack of rain, my first tasks this spring have ended up revolving around watering, as deeply as I have the patience for.

That's not all bad, as it gives me a relaxing time to see what's coming up. Crocuses, both established and newly planted last fall, are in full bloom. Tulips and daffodils are in various stages of leaf emergence, while the grape hyacinths are just beginning to peek through. (The latter is surprising me, because I remembered grape hyacinths as being one of the earlier spring bulbs.) Summer phlox, some of the salvias, and the hairy phlox have all developed healthy new sprouts and it's time to cut back whatever remains of last year's foliage.

I'm really curious to see what has made it through the winter. I planted late last year, especially in the back courtyard, so I don't know how well established many of those plants were before winter's cold and dry hit. We've also had an overabundance of hispid cotton rats, thanks both to that record-setting moisture last year and to the fact that I'm leaving the tall grass tall. The cotton rats are not a problem as far as invading the house goes, but they sure do eat a lot of vegetative matter.

The lilac leaves are beginning to open, which seems terribly early to me, and the buds on the Callery pears are swollen, fuzzy and showing promise of white.

The final switch into spring fever came last night, though. We had the sliding door open in the kitchen, enjoying the warm evening air. Sitting at the table I first heard migrating songbirds overhead, then the first of the chorus frogs singing in the draw. Future freezes or not, spring is here for the year.

Fragmentation and Mosaic Building

Sometimes a theme seems to repeat itself time and time again in my life, knocking at my mental door saying, "Notice me! Notice me!"

I've been having one of those times over the last few weeks, and the theme that keeps repeating itself has been that of life breaking, things breaking, ecosystems breaking...and the restoration of functional, even beautiful, objects and lives through rebuilding, creating mosaics, and puzzling together the pieces.

Tonight I finished reading Pinhook, by Janisse Ray, a short book subtitled Finding Wholeness in a Fragmented Land. In it, Ray is telling the story of Pinhook Swamp, an important natural connection between the great Okefenokee Swamp of Georgia and the Osceola National Forest in the panhandle of Florida. There has been a push in recent years to purchase the "land" of Pinhook to complete this connection (in the human, legal "world", that is) and thus to restore a large natural area to some semblance of integrity and intact functioning.

Ray tells her story, ironically enough, in fragments: chapters, with interspersed sections of paragraphs that give ecological or social commentaries. These interspersed commentaries become almost like a voice-over in a television documentary, or like a learned professor pointing out the deeper significance of what we're reading.

Pinhook is a tale of an ongoing attempt to heal fragmentation in our natural world through repurchase and restoration. Terry Tempest Williams' Finding Beauty in a Broken World, which I read recently, explored the effect of fragmentation on prairie dogs and humans and looked to mosaic as a metaphor for healing that fragmentation.

Fragmentation and rebuilding has been appearing in my fictional reading as well. Broken for You, by Stephanie Kallos, is a fictional narrative that explores healing human brokenness through a mosaic of new human ties. Olive Kitteredge, by Elizabeth Strout, builds a portrait of a woman through the mosaic of stories showing how she has affected other lives around her throughout her lifetime.

Bringing all of these themes of fragmentation and rebuilding together into Prairiewolf's and my lives as we settle further into our "new" environs, our days are increasingly being made beautiful through a mosaic of old and new friends, and our land is becoming increasingly healthy (hopefully!) through a slow restoration of the mosaic pieces of native prairie flora and fauna.

Fragmentation of the old. Rebuilding, restoring or simply building something totally new from the pieces of the old. Life mimics art; art mimics life. And so it goes.

The Richness of *Now*

"Somedays I live more fully than others."

That thought was drifting lazily through my mind this morning as Prairiewolf and I snuggled together, enjoying an early Sunday morning. I could see the full moon shining brightly through the trees outside the window, the bed was warm and cozy, Prairiewolf's breathing was steady and deep, the house was quiet. Becker was asleep beside the bed, the cats were curled at our feet.

Days when I notice such simple pleasures become especially rich, and I realize how truly lucky I am.

If I stop and take a few deep breaths, it's amazing how many such moments are packed into each day. Right now even qualifies: I'm sitting at the kitchen table, typing. It's dark outside and Prairiewolf has just gone up to bed. Becker is lying beind me; Strider (our 2 year old English setter) is standing beside me, encouraging me to pet him while I type; T.J. (our older, orange cat) is sitting on one of the other kitchen chairs, watching me and Strider; while Ranger (our young, black kitten) has just skittled in to join us and liven things up a bit. Currently Ranger is trying to balance himself on the narrow wooden back of T.J.'s chair, egging T.J. to quit being such a "chair potato" and play with him.

It relaxes me and soothes me just to notice these quiet moments and daily details and to encourage myself to sink into them...so I don't understand why it seems so hard to do this on a regular basis. Entire weeks can go by where I forget to stop and simply be totally present in the current moment.

However, I guess I shouldn't question it too much, I should just sink back into relaxation and appreciation of this current instant in time. I'm content and happy in these moments - and that's an amazingly rare gift in this day and age.

Best Reads of 2008

Today I received the e-mail from Watermark Books with their employees' lists of "Best Books Read in 2008". It sparked my curiosity, so I got out my list of books from this year and thought back over them. (In 2003, I started keeping a list of books I read in the back of my journal.)

I read 9 fewer books this year than last year. That's not surprising, as my life was busier this year, with volunteer activities and gardening, than it was last year. My general feeling throughout the year has been that the books I was reading weren't as memorable as last year's books, but when I started thinking of them one by one, I realized I had actually read quite a few gems.

Here are my favorites from among the 38 books that I remembered to write down:

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.
While I was reading this book, my feelings were that I really liked and admired the first section (eating), but felt that the second (praying) and third (loving) sections were too self-conscious. In dipping back into the book occasionally, when it has been referenced in conversations or in other books, I have found that it actually contains many good thoughts for me to chew on. (Pun somewhat intended.)

Sky Time in Gray's River by Robert Michael Pyle
I love the subtitle of this book, "Living for Keeps in a Forgotten Place." Pyle writes of his home, and the people, plant and animal communities around it, in southwestern Washington. The particulars are very different from my spot here in southcentral Kansas, but sense of being embedded in the human and natural communities is very similar to what is so important to me. Two quotes from this book sum up the feelings that resonate in me as I read it, "I live where I do so I can look out or walk outside at any time and instantly be within 'nature'," (p. 6), and "I know of no better way to get to the heart of a place than through its phenology - the progression of the seasons as told by its animal and plant appearances," (p. 110).

Walking the High Ridge by Robert Michael Pyle
Sky Time... was so good that I ordered and read another book by Pyle. Walking the High Ridge is essentially his autobiography, especially as concerns his love of the environment and of writing. It fascinated me to read how this naturalist has been able to turn his passions into a way of life that not only supports him, but also allows him to awaken an answering awareness of and passion for nature in others.

Dark Nights of the Soul by Thomas Moore
I wasn't going to include this book in my list originally, but as I glanced through it, I realized that it's been speaking to me a lot this year. I've fought depression frequently throughout my adult life, and these past 2 years have been particularly difficult in that regard. This book both encourages the reader to "mine" such difficult times for ways to enrich your life and to live your life more deeply. One quote I particularly cherish, "The soul is fulfilled by the ordinary." (p. 298) As I write this, I'm looking outside at a particularly beautiful sunset filled with deep peach and coral clouds against a teal sky. The black silhouettes of the trees against all this color are sharply still except for the movement of a few last sparrows heading to roost. Even at this moment, my soul is being filled with the beauty of this particular "ordinary" sight.

Bleeding Kansas by Sara Paretsky
Not just a fast paced story with a particularly current conflict, this novel is gifted in catching and highlighting many of the paradoxical personalities living side by side in modern day Kansas...and probably in most small towns across our country.

Recipes for a Perfect Marriage by Morag Prunty
Both a cure for any tendency towards believing in "happily ever after" and a cautionary tale to appreciate what you have in your closest relationships, this story really made me think about reality vs. appearances in marriages, our own ability to affect our happiness through our expectations, and other similarly weighty subjects. Yet the story was well written and enjoyable, not the "downer" it so easily could have been.

In Praise of the Unfinished by Julia Hartwig
This collection of poems is by a Polish poet who is highly celebrated in her own country, but this is apparently the first time her poems have been translated into English. I chanced upon this collection one day in Barnes & Noble and picked it up on a whim. It's wonderful.

Thirst by Mary Oliver
Another collection of poems, this one made it through a doubly serendipitous selection this year. First, I picked it up at Barnes & Noble on the same day that I picked up Hartwig's book, also on a whim. (Although in the case of Mary Oliver, I know and love many of her poems, so my "whim" was grounded in the knowledge that I was likely to like at least a few of the poems in the book.) Then, one sleepless night when I had been thinking about what I wanted to do next during my life, I happened to pick up this book and open it. The first poem, "Messenger," starts off, "My work is loving the world," and seemed like a direct answer to my thoughts. The words still tumble around and around in my head.

Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv
In October, I wrote an entry about this book (and a lecture Prairiewolf and I attended by its author). It definitely rates on my "Best Reads of 2008" list.

My Antonia by Willa Cather
Another book that I blogged about after reading it this fall. Incredibly memorable, especially if you are a prairie person.

Finding Beauty in a Broken World by Terry Tempest Williams
An interesting 3 part juxtaposition of mosaic building, studying prairie dogs, and visiting Rwanda. Just trying to decide what to write about this book puts me into a philosophical discussion with myself. An interesting look at both the best and worst in human nature.

A Simpler Way by Margaret Wheatley
This was recommended by a friend and is actually written for the business community. Without Kelly's recommendation, I would never have picked it up, but this book is excellent encouragement to reframe how we look at life and I'm very glad I read it. (I've already passed it along to another friend.) Instead of always looking for the one "right" answer, Wheatley proposes that we realize there are usually many possible "answers" to any one situation and suggests that we enjoy playing with life's various possibilities instead of constantly worrying about being "wrong." Life instantly becomes playful and creative, rather than feeling like one long exam which (in bad times) we feel we are flunking. A wonderful concept!

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrow
A story of life on the island of Guernsey during World War II, this tale is told entirely through letters back and forth between a variety of different correspondents. It's heart-warming, tragic, historic, and uplifting all at the same time - an excellent read that left me feeling wistful but warm, certain that love and community go on despite tragedy and sometimes horrific circumstances.

I like this exercise of looking back over what I've read this year. I feel like I'm reconnecting with friends! What have your favorite reads been this year?

The Power of Focused Attention

There has been a sad news story that has garnered national attention and an outpouring of generosity lately: the plight of over 100 pit bulls found at a farm in Oklahoma, chained with little or no food, water, or adequate winter shelter. Four of the dogs have either died or had to be euthanized because of their poor condition. Volunteers are caring for the rest of them right now, but their eventual fate is still up in the air. Obviously socializing has not been a major part of their life, and unsocialized adult pit bulls are potentially very dangerous.

Buried in this morning's article, though, was a fact that I found as sad or sadder than the plight of these dogs: apparently in Oklahoma alone, over 100 pit bulls are euthanized EVERY DAY at animal shelters across the state.

It's national news when this number of poorly treated dogs is found in one site. It's business as usual when this number of poorly treated dogs is spread out daily across a state.

Sometimes I'm appalled at what we accept as normal in our country.

Black Cat Battles

Have you ever heard of a cat who is addicted to electrical shocks?

I think we may have one.

Our six month old kitten, Ranger, has developed a VERY frustrating - not to mention dangerous and expensive - habit: he loves to chew on electrical cords.

First I noticed that the adapter cord for the weather radio was in 3 pieces, with numerous other chew marks along it's length.

Next it was the adapter cord for the digital photo frame. It looked suspiciously like the weather radio cord...except, to be fair, it was only in 2 pieces.

The third casualty was the adapter cord for my new laptop. Ranger didn't actually get all the way through this one, just put enough holes in it that I felt much safer spending $100 to get a new one.

However, the most impressive incident was the night after Thanksgiving. That night he went for the big shock and chewed into the floor lamp cord. Single-mouthedly he was able to brown out the entire house, not to mention burning out the lamp and fluorescent bulb therein. He did not appear shocked at all by his experience.

Now we were not only irritated, we were beginning to get scared. What if he did this when we weren't home? He could burn the house down. That trick earned a night shut up in a cat kennel while we tried to figure out what to do.

We discussed our options which, frankly, weren't all that great. Hot sauce on the cords hadn't seemed to phase him. We could make him an outside cat, which neither of us wanted, or return him to the pound, which we wanted even less. We opted for throwing him outside when he got too rowdy.

Unlike most cats, he hates being outside. If big brother Becker is around, Ranger shadows him, rubbing fondly against his legs. Otherwise he tends to sulk under the potting bench, darting for the door the first time it opens.

This strategy seemed to be working for about a week. Then last Saturday, both Prairiewolf and I lost our internet connections almost simultaneously. Our first thought was that the internet had temporarily gone down. Prairiewolf's next thought was that Ranger had been under his feet briefly just a few seconds before. He checked the cords - sure enough, the telephone line between the modem and the wall plug was toast. This time it had only taken one chew zone and about 30 seconds. Ranger was obviously perfecting his technique.

On Sunday night I noticed him playing under the livingroom end table. Outside he went, but not before he had bisected the adapter cord for the telephone cradle.

The pound was looming closer. A night's sleep let us cool down a bit, so the next morning I took our problem to our vet. Unfortunately she had no words of wisdom for us. This was a "difficult problem with no easy answer."

But Prairiewolf asked a question in passing that got me thinking, "Do you think we have enough toys around for him to play with?"

We'd showered Ranger with toys when we first got him, but slowly they had disappeared...under furniture, broken, into that great pet toy heaven in the sky. I hadn't noticed their disappearance since Ranger played endlessly with our other cat, T.J. Then, too, he amused himself (and us) by doing gymnastic leaps and twirls off the sliding glass door after imaginary monsters. He had learned the fine art of unrolling massive streams of toilet paper across the bathroom floor and out into the hall, complete with multiple Braille-like notations along the t.p.'s entire length. He even made it a point of honor to never miss the fascinating sight of water swirling around the toilet bowl every time it was flushed.

With all that excitement, could he possibly just be bored?

I dug out the few cat toys I hadn't given him before. Most were batted around a bit, but didn't cause overwhelming excitement. Then I hung up the squeaky mouse on the elastic string. Ranger couldn't get enough of it. I watched him for several minutes, then went back to other chores, smiling to myself about his enthusiasm. A few minutes later I noticed a pitiful meowing coming from the laundry room doorway. When I checked it out, Ranger was perplexedly looking at his new toy, the elastic string stuck over the back of the door with the mouse decidedly out of his reach. I released the mouse and Ranger immediately set about conquering it again. A few minutes later, the meowing began again. Again I rescued the mouse. This went on for over an hour before Ranger finally got tired and let the poor mouse rest a bit.

The second go-around began a few hours later...but this time the mouse's harness wasn't up to the assault. Fifteen minutes into another serious round of pouncing, the plastic rod suspending the mouse on its elastic cord broke irrevocably. I tied the mouse around the door handle, but it just wasn't the same.

We have since gone out and splurged on more cat toys, looking particularly for squeaky mouse-shaped models. Most of the ones we could find on elastic cords didn't squeak, unfortunately, so we had to settle for more feline powered ones. I'm putting them out slowly, one at a time, being sure to keep a few back for novelty's sake.

I'm hoping we're over the electric cord phase, but I'm probably being overly optimistic. Keep your fingers crossed for us, please. And if you've ever dealt with this problem, especially if you've solved it successfully, I'd love to get your input. Both my preventive ideas and my patience are wearing thin, and I really don't want to test our electrical luck more than we already have, but Ranger is generally a charming member of our family and I certainly don't want to have to send him back to the pound.

As I finish writing this, Ranger has attacked his latest squeaky mouse and is busily conquering it as it "scurries" from room to room. I'm hoping against hope that the answer really is this simple.

People of Kansas

Several weeks ago, I was talking with a couple friends about Studs Terkel, the author whose specialty was to interview people from all walks of life and capture their thoughts and feelings in printed collections published as books. I've read several of his books, and there are several more calling to me.

Neither of my friends had read any of Studs Terkel's work, but they asked if I had ever heard of "Hatteberg's People"? I hadn't.

They explained that Larry Hatteberg was a reporter at one of the local television stations, and that he had been doing a series on people from around Kansas for years. It sounded a lot like Studs Terkel's work to them, but in a different medium.

This morning I finally got around to checking out their recommendation, and I'm hooked.

Here are two of my favorite interviews so far:

Harold Seipel has been the custodian and caretaker for Harper County Courthouse, one of the area's old courthouses, for 50 years now.

At 103, Martha Smith has the distinction of being the oldest librarian in the oldest library in Kansas. She's worked there since 1926.

These are lives lived deep and rich and embedded in their communities. They are almost the antithesis of modern life, but I have to believe they have important messages for us to consider about meaning and happiness and connectedness.

Prairie Wings

I took my two canine walking buddies, Becker and Sunny, out back through the pasture late this afternoon. It was a gray afternoon, but the weather had warmed to a reasonable level and there was little wind.

As we walked, an orange marker caught my attention. I'd been debating leaving the flags until next spring, but now I went over to the long piece of wire and pulled on it. The damp soil released it easily, so I started slowly working my way through the grasses, pulling up every one I could find. It would make finding the emerging plants harder in the spring, but if we burned, I wouldn't be stuck with lumps of melted orange plastic on almost invisible wires all through the healing grassland.

Prairiewolf, who was out hunting, called on the cell phone, so I stopped to talk with him, facing north as I stood with the dogs wrestling at my feet. A movement caught my eye, a flash of white.

It was a female northern harrier. Her rich brown plumage tended to melt into the background of the leafless trees above the grass, but the white rump patch marked her every movement. I stood mesmerized as she skimmed along, just a few feet above the tops of the grasses, dipping from side to side, floating a bit, then taking a few wingbeats and doing a sudden abrupt turn-about to float back the way she'd just come. Every once in a while, she would hover for a bit, raising my hopes that she was about to stoop on a cotton rat in the grass, but she never did. They must have been taunting her, though, with brief glimpses or tempting rustlings, because she kept patrolling the same area over and over, sure that there would be an unwary tidbit for her if she was just persistent enough.

For a while I sat in the grass watching, my head at the same height as the seedheads of the silver bluestem. It made it harder to see her from far away, though, so eventually I abandoned that perspective and stood again.

Some neighbor teenagers pulled their truck to the back of their property and started target shooting, distracting my attention. By the time I looked for the harrier again, I couldn't find her, so I resumed my walk, pulling flags as I went. I caught a glimpse of her twice more, but never for long. I hope she feasted bountifully today; she certainly fed my spirit well as she shared time with me, however briefly.

Better Than A Garage Sale

Back in early August, I read a particularly intriguing post on Musement Park, one of the blogs I enjoy looking in on when I get a few minutes to browse the web. It was on freecycling, an updated form of passing on things you can't use to other people who can.

It took me a couple months, but I finally researched freecycling a little more and signed on to the local group. I'm hooked now.

The mission statement of the overarching organization is relatively simple and quite self-explanatory:

"Our mission is to build a worldwide gifting movement that reduces waste, saves precious resources & eases the burden on our landfills while enabling our members to benefit from the strength of a larger community."

Here in Wichita, it works like this: You sign up with the local group, which is simply a Yahoo group. Besides requesting your e-mail and so forth, they ask that you make a VERY short statement explaining why you are interested in joining the freecycle network. (Note: I had to rewrite my statement about 5 times to get it short enough. Brevity is obviously of great value here.) The moderator takes a look at what you've said and, assuming you haven't written that you intend to rip off everyone you contact, admits you to the group. There is a series of "rules of the road" to read through, and you are off and running.

So far I've used the site to pass along 3 rather large items (a desk in need of repair, a sink and a gun cabinet) that were way too good to throw away, but hardly enough to hold a garage sale for. In all 3 instances, I had multiple responses and the hardest part was choosing who to reply to. Each time the item was gone in short order, best of all to someone who really seemed to be able to use it.

No money is ever involved. This is simply a process of gifting someone else with something they can use which you, for one reason or another, no longer have a use for yourself. I have seen everything from kittens, puppies and animal supplies to used magazines to furniture to clothing to food to building supplies to garden plants listed, and I've been a member for less than a month. It's almost worth a "what's the oddest thing you've seen offered - and taken" sort of article. At the very least, it's addicting to watch the continual parade of stuff.

Give it a try! You might be surprised what you can pass along...or find.

Coyotes and Red-Tails and Owls, Oh My!

Now that most of the leaves are gone from the trees and the cold weather is creeping in, I'm noticing a return of the major winter predators to our homestead.

Last Thursday was a particularly interesting day. When I took our puppy Sunny for an energy-release walk out in the back pasture, I noticed coyote scat (droppings), both old and new. Three sets of scat, to be precise. I'm assuming the coyotes have moved in to feast on the hispid cotton rats and other rodents that are making such glorious sets of runways through our grass back there.

On our way back to the house, I looked up to see a pair of red-tailed hawks in the trees of the draw. We had a pair that seemed to nest in the area late last winter, so this may be the same pair returning. I haven't seen them for most of the summer; I'm excited to have them back.

Last of all, that night we heard a pair of great horned owls calling to each other from the draw. We've had barred owls in the area ever since we moved in almost 2 years ago, but this is the first time we've heard great horned owls.

About 2 weeks ago, I found the mutilated body of a barred owl in our front yard. I didn't examine it too closely at the time, because I didn't want Becker going back to it and helping me "dispose of it" in his own special way. When I went out the next morning, sans Becker, to take a closer look, it was gone. I suspect the coyotes feasted on it somewhere during the night.

At the time, I was trying to decide how the barred owl had died. It was obviously wounded around the face in some way, based on the raw flesh that I could see (and the facial features I couldn't see) from about 30 feet away. I was concerned that a neighbor might have shot it but, without looking at it more closely, that was pure speculation. Other thoughts that crossed my mind were that it had been hit by a car at night, or that it had somehow misjudged a stoop and collided hard with a guidewire on the telephone pole nearby. Now I suspect that it was a victim of the great horned owls moving in.

One of these days I'm going to collect some of the coyote scat and dissect it to see what animals they are feeding on. And I'll keep my eyes peeled for owl pellets, both so I learn where they are roosting and so that I can learn what they are feeding on too. Meanwhile, I'm just going to enjoy the sight of red-tailed hawks soaring during the day, and the sounds of coyotes howling and great horned owls hooting at night. More interesting layers in the ecosystem that is our slowly recovering yard.

It's FeederWatch Time!

One of my favorite wintertime activities is feeding the birds. I feed year 'round, but the birds use the feeders more and are more visible in the winter, which makes it even more enjoyable. In a way, feeding birds takes the place of growing flowers during this quiet season of the year.

Many years ago I joined Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology's FeederWatch program. It's a coordinated "citizen science" data collection project, keeping track of trends in the birds that come to people's feeders all across the country.

To help make it manageable but relatively consistent from site to site, FeederWatch traditionally has had each feeder watcher observe and record bird activity carefully for 2 consecutive days during each 2 week period during the winter months, beginning in November. Now, with online data reporting, you can do 2 consecutive days each week, if you so desire.

So that's what I'm aiming for this winter. Last week was my first count period. As usual, by watching closely, I noticed birds that I hadn't seen this winter coming into my count area. Last week it was a yellow-rumped warbler, a spotted towhee, and a female red-bellied woodpecker. Today, the first of my 2 day count period for this week, I "netted" a pair of Carolina wrens and a mockingbird. Plus I noticed a small flock of cedar waxwings just beyond the courtyard hedge that is my official count boundary.

I've seen all these birds before in our yard, but this is the first time I've noticed them at or around the feeders this fall.

Because of the online data reporting, I received feedback last week that I'm seeing unusually large numbers of white-crowned sparrows for this early in the season. That's rather fun to know. And because of more carefully monitoring the feeding birds, I noticed 2 abnormalities in the immature white-crowned sparrows last week: one with a wound on its side, and one missing its tail. I saw the wounded one again today, looking like the wound had healed quite a bit, but I haven't seen the tailless one since last Tuesday.

Most of all, the FeederWatch is just another tool to help keep me observing the wildlife in our yard, especially when it's all too easy to cocoon inside and simply try to keep warm. And it does a darn good job of that.

How Ignorant of Our Own Country's Wildlife Are We?

Before I shelve My Antonia, I have to comment on something I found deeply disturbing, a symptom of how disconnected our culture is becoming from our land.

First, however, I need to set the stage by commenting about how impressed I was with some of Cather's ecological observations. Given her writing in this novel, she would have made a fine ecologist* if that had been her goal. For example, she talks about elderberry like this, "The elder bushes did not grow back in the shady ravines between the bluffs, but in the hot, sandy bottoms along the stream, where their roots were always in moisture and their tops in the sun."

Another ecological observation that impressed me was her description of a prairie dog town....

"Sometimes I rode north to the big prairie-dog town to watch the brown, earth-owls fly home in the late afternoon and go down to their nests underground with the dogs.... We had to be on our guard there, for rattlesnakes were always lurking about. They came to pick up an easy living among the dogs and owls, which were quite defenseless against them; took possession of their comfortable houses and ate the eggs and puppies."

At another point in the story, Cather has Antonia and Jim stopping by a prairie dog town to explore a bit....

"...Antonia suggested that we stop at the prairie-dog town and dig into one of the holes. We could find out whether they ran straight down, or were horizontal, like mole-holes; whether they had underground connections; whether the owls had nests down there, lined with feathers. We might get some puppies, or owl eggs, or snake-skins.
The dog-town was spread out over perhaps ten acres. The grass had been nibbled short and even, so this stretch was not shaggy and red like the surrounding country, but gray and velvety."

These are very accurate descriptions of prairie dog towns, including a couple of their "companion" animals, burrowing owls and prairie rattlesnakes.

However, in the introduction written by Marilyn Sides, an author and senior lecturer in the English Department at Wellesley in Massachusetts, Sides refers to Cather's descriptions of the prairie dog towns in such a way that it is obvious she doesn't have a clue what a prairie dog or prairie dog town is. She is commenting on the almost total lack of a Native American presence in this novel when she writes, "The only truly original inhabitation seems to be the prairie dog town, which may allude to a kind of Indian pueblo (in 1916 Cather had toured the pueblos of Taos and the ancient pueblo ruins of Mesa Verde)...."

Not only did Marilyn Sides not know what prairie dog towns are, but the editing staff of Signet Classics evidently didn't know either. Prairie dogs are keystone species in the prairie ecosystem. They are part of the prairie lore and mythology of this country. How do you comment on a book, even a novel, about the prairie and not have the faintest idea what a prairie dog is or how and where they live? Especially when the author is describing so many of the prairie animals and their habitats in such straightforward but beautiful prose?!

It's long past time that we include studies of our local and national wildlife and our ecosystems in our basic education system. Kids don't get out and explore wild areas like they used to 50 years ago, so that sort of basic knowledge is literally being lost. While teaching 1st graders about rainforests is theoretically fine, I think it's far more important that they learn first about the native plants and animals that live around them. There's time enough for understanding rainforests after the kids learn prairies and deciduous forests and American deserts.

It's time we all learn our natural neighbors and neighborhoods again.



* Note: The science of ecology, with its understanding of communities of plants and animals that are dependent on each other for existence, was not widely recognized until many years after Cather wrote.

Revisiting My Antonia

I read My Antonia many, many years ago. I wasn't impressed. The very likeable hero and heroine didn't get together, for reasons my adolescent heart just couldn't fathom. Not much else mattered...at least as far as I remember my long-ago reaction some 35-40 years later.

Fast forward to several weeks ago. Wichita was participating in The Big Read, and Willa Cather's My Antonia had been selected as the book for all of us to explore. Having a few more experiences under my belt, I decided to give it another try. Not only were there several interesting sounding public discussions being offered, but Willa Cather has a reputation as the first major prairie author, and I've been somewhat obsessively reading prairie writers as I reacclimate to life in Kansas.

I loved the book. I understand now why Jim and Antonia would never have been happy together - they had different dreams and different needs for their lives. Furthermore, although Jim's life was much more successful in terms of typically lauded actions (he became a top lawyer for a national firm in New York City, married to a socially prominent and rich woman), I suspect it is Antonia's life that was ultimately richer and more satisfying. She may have remained in Nebraska, married a farmer, had a physically hard life and become "nothing but" a farmer's wife and mother to a passel of kids, but her happiness and pride shines in her eyes and in the eyes of her family when Jim finally visits her after 20 years away. In a loveless marriage with no children, his life suddenly seems rather empty...at least to me.

However, it is Cather's descriptions of the prairie as it is being settled that really sunk into my imagination. Cather herself moved from Virginia to Red Cloud, Nebraska, when she was 10 and she lived there for about 12 years before heading back east. She arrived in 1883 and left in 1895 after graduating from the University of Nebraska in Lincoln, essentially spending her entire adolescence in this half wild landscape. I feel like she offers me a rare moment of time travel back to see what the prairie looked like before so much of it disappeared between the hedgerows and under the plow....

"...this was the complete dome of heaven, all there was of it."

"Everywhere, as far as the eye could reach, there was nothing but rough, shaggy, red grass, most of it as tall as I.... The little trees were insignificant against the grass. It seemed as if the grass were about to run over them, and over the plum-patch behind the sod chicken-house."

"As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the color of wine-stains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running."

"I wanted to walk straight on through the red grass and over the edge of the world, which could not be very far away. The light air about me told me that the world ended here: only the ground and sun and sky were left, and if one went a little farther there would be only sun and sky, and one would float off into them, like the tawny hawks which sailed over our heads making slow shadows on the grass."

"The road ran about like a wild thing, avoiding the deep draws, crossing them where they were wide and shallow. And all along it, wherever it looped or ran, the sunflowers grew; some of them were as big as little trees, with great rough leaves and many branches which bore dozens of blossoms. They made a gold ribbon across the prairie."

"Some of the cottonwoods had already turned, and the yellow leaves and shining white bark made them look like the gold and silver trees in fairy tales."

"All those fall afternoons were the same, but I never got used to them. As far as we could see, the miles of copper-red grass were drenched in sunlight that was stronger and fiercer than at any other time of the day. The blond cornfields were red gold, the haystacks turned rosy and threw long shadows. The whole prairie was like the bush that burned with fire and was not consumed. That hour always had the exultation of victory, of triumphant ending, like a hero's death - heroes who died young and gloriously. It was a sudden transfiguration, a lifting-up of day."

Towards the end of the novel, Cather speaks through Jim as he returns to Nebraska after many years away...

"I found that I remembered the conformation of the land as one remembers the modeling of human faces."

My psyche resonates to that statement. I think the lands we come to know well in our lives will always be a part of us in a deep and timeless way. The prairie obviously touched Cather's soul. Her gift was (and is) to share that experience with the rest of us.

Attempting to Begin Restoration Effort Assessments

During this recent growing season, I've tried to keep track of the species that I've identified growing throughout our entire 10 acres, keeping separate lists for the area east of the draw, west of the draw and for the back 5 acres. It's not a terribly scientific undertaking, in that I haven't done transects or any other statistical sampling method, but I have done my best to identify what I've seen.

[One disclaimer here: I'm identifying plants based primarily on wildflower guides (of which I have 6 that I use). That means that I may be misidentifying unusual species as more common ones. Then there's the issue that if the plant isn't blooming or seeding out, I'm probably missing it altogether. Sedges, especially, have been tough for me. I know I have several species of sedge scattered throughout the yard, but I have no guide that makes me feel at all confident about identifying even one of them.]

Recently I started reading a classic on prairie restoration, The Tallgrass Restoration Handbook. The authors in this book caution that there are few good remnants of tallgrass prairie left, therefore most restorations will begin with land that has been compromised in one way or another. So one of the first topics they cover is how to begin assessing what you are starting with, as a basis for deciding how to proceed with the restoration and for figuring out whether your restoration attempts are moving you in the direction that you want to be moving.

One of the assessment tools they talk about is called the coefficient of conservatism (C or CoC, depending on the source). This is a number from 0 to 10 that is assigned to native plant species based on, in essence, their weediness and desireability within a high quality prairie. A rating of 0 is a widely distributed, weedy species in no need of conservation; a rating of 10 is a rare (possibly endangered) species found only in high quality prairies.

Last spring, Brad Guhr (of Dyck Arboretum) kindly forwarded a list of the coefficients of conservatism for plants species found in Kansas. Last night I used this list to figure out the mean CoC for each of the 3 areas on which I've have been compiling lists. My statistical methodology, for anyone who should happen to care, was simply to look up the coefficient of conservatism for each of the species that I had listed, count the total number of species on the list for that area, then divide the former by the latter.

Using this method, the area east of the draw has a mean CoC of 2.21; the area west of the draw has a mean CoC of 2.31; and the back 5 acres (the area we burned this spring) has a mean CoC of 2.64. That puts all 3 zones firmly in the "Who the heck knows what to do with this plot" category. Seriously. Although, of course, they phrased it a little more elegantly in the book.

So far, the worst plant I've found on this site is Johnson grass (Sorghum halepense). Based on their coefficient of conservatism, the best plants I've found are spring ladies' tresses (Spiranthes vernalis, CoC 8), narrow-leaved milkweed (Asclepias stenophylla, CoC 7), white prairie clover (Dalea candida, CoC 7), and leadplant (Amorpha canescens, CoC 7).

Plus as I started reading this book, I found one big positive for our site that I had never considered before: the soil is basically intact. It has never been plowed, nor has it been subject to massive erosion or reshaping. Given that plus, I'm determined not to use the "Roundup the whole darn mess, plow it up, and start fresh with seed that you buy or collect" method of prairie re-establishment.

So for starters our negatives are
1) overgrazing,
2) introduction of exotics,
3) lack of burning for years,
4) overgrowth of shrubs, young trees, and weedy species, and
5) small site size.

As I read, I feel like I've been on the right track. So far I've been keeping grazing off (at least for now), burning, using Roundup selectively, and overseeding with desireable species. Especially in the area we burned, I know that quite a few species showed up this year that I didn't see last year.

It's reassuring to know that my instincts have been reasonably good so far. Now if I can just keep threading my way through this continuing maze....