wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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G is for Goose

This photo is from February, a few years ago, when we had a sudden snowfall. These Canada geese were probably wintering here, rather than flying farther south, but I’m sure they didn’t expect it to snow.  Even the five or six snow geese in the foreground were probably not expecting snow. I think their name comes solely from their colour, not from any love of snow.

Most of the geese have their head in the snow, trying to work their way down to the roots of the crop that was harvested a few months earlier. They may find some nourishment there, and possibly the odd worm might be lurking just under the ground.

The geese must be finding enough to eat there to make it worthwhile, or they would all be on the other side of the road (from where I took the picture) where there is an estuary that is a bit more sheltered and the water is shallow, providing nibbles of seafood just barely covered by water.

I’m guessing that another reason they’re not in that estuary just at this photo time could be that the tide was out and the mudflats are exposed. When there is a bit more water, the geese can swim  and be safer from predators, and they can dabble in the muck for their hors d’oeuvres.

In the field, they can’t swim and be out of reach, but the field is flat and provides plenty of oversight.  You will always see one or two geese acting as sentries while the rest have their head down, feeding.  Somehow, they manage to take turns at watch duty.

 

See the little bit of black near the tail feathers of the snow geese above.  Those feathers are actually their black wingtips that make the geese so easily identifiable when they fly overhead. White feathers reflecting the sunshine, and black wingtips adding special decoration.

G is for goose, but not Christmas goose for dinner.  Not here, anyway.


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D is for Ducks

At first glance it looks like the farmer grew a crop of mallards.

On second glance we can see that there are widgeons among them.

At third glance, in a close look near the bottom of the photo we can see that the farmer actually grew potatoes. Some were missed and have been unearthed by the ducks to nibble on. It’s not their first choice of food but who knows what other seeds or insects may be hiding alongside the potatoes?

D is for duck, but when they sense danger, they don’t “duck.” They fly!


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B is for the Birds

I have loved birds even when I was a small child. My mother used to tell me that the birds were talking to me. If I listened, I could hear what they were saying. Let’s just say that the power of suggestion worked overtime on me. I imagine the birds talking to me (and to each other) even now in my old(er) age.

Most birds bring us joy with their songs and their antics.

Some bring us a rude awakening when we walk under rows of them perched on overhead wires.

I had to wash my jacket after walking home under these birds.

But the owner of this car had a bigger washing job to do the next morning. He won’t park under the wires again.

Still, without birds, the world would be quiet, and not as happy as it could be.

Enjoy your day, and remember to listen to what the birds are saying. They may be talking to you.

Today they are saying:

B is for birds.


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Good to Eat?

Imagine being known for your good flavour on the dinner table. The godwit was known, several hundred years ago, to be a “god whit,” a good creature (for the dinner table, it is presumed).

It was netted and sold at market, fetching even more than a snipe might have sold for in those long ago days.

These marbled godwits were dabbling around at the beach, poking their long bills into the sand in search of any small invertebrates they might feast on.

Their long legs help to keep their bodies from getting wet unnecessarily, but these birds do swim. For foraging though, they have more luck near the shore in waters shallow enough to walk around in without getting their bellies wet. Their long bills can easily probe the sand or mud there without having to dive for what may or may not be there.

They are no longer considered a target as a gamebird. Luckily for them, it is too much work to hunt and prepare these birds for the small amount of meat they offer for the table.

And like the turkeys that the president pardons each year, these godwits are thankful for their own version of the “Passover” at Thanksgiving.


41 Comments

Wild Weather

Before the big windstorm happened, the Captain was keeping a few cans of beer cool, in a plastic tote on top of the patio table that you can just see the corner of at the right side of the photo.

The second patio table, the round one on the left, used to sit in the middle of the deck where the fallen hanging basket is lying on its side now. The wind must have blown the table over as far as it could go.

The oranges were on the table beside the beer cans, to keep cool. I also had a small parsley plant in a pot. You might see it lying on its side without the pot near the far end of the deck. Just a matted clump of dirt with a few yellow green leaves in it.

The blue pieces are part of a small clay pot that I painted  about ten years ago. I always liked that little pot, but never imagined that the wind could send it flying off the table and smash it. The white saucer used to be under the parsley pot. Not sure where that pot ended up. I think it was plastic so it may have flown to the neighbours’ place or be in the next town by now.

The  bits of branches from the fir trees are relatively small compared to the branch that came down  just beyond the deck, as you will see in the next photo.

I’m glad no people, dogs, or squirrels were out for a walk when this branch decided to drop in, and I was so happy to see the squirrels and two hummingbirds alive in the morning.

And so, further to the previous post about Thanksgiving Day, and all we have to be thankful for, I feel very thankful to have been spared major trouble from this windstorm.  Even the few hours of a loss of power were not too bad. I can’t begin to imagine the terror people go through in hurricanes. Hearing this wind roar through like a freight train was bad enough.

 


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Thankful on Thanksgiving Day

Since those unfortunate fat white turkeys have been raised in a domestic poultry setting, these wild turkeys have a lot to be thankful for every Thanksgiving Day. American Thanksgiving Day is on Nov. 28 this year. It’s still a few days away. Time for us to think about how blessed we are.

“Darlin’,” Mr. Turkey said,

“Sleep in trees or we are dead.”

 

“I see no coyote near,

Therefore, we have naught to fear.”

 

“But your night sight isn’t great,

Mildred learned that; she got ate.”

 

“You mean ‘eaten,’ don’t you love?

Fine, we’ll watch from up above.”

 

“Thank you, Lord, for common sense,

Otherwise, things could be tense.”

 

“We can roost up in a tree,

Count our blessings, you and me.”

 

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. And yes, let’s count our blessings. There are way more than you think.


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The Proud King and his Timid Queen

The golden-crowned sparrow and his girl are having an adventure on the feeding station roof. They are observed from a distance by a fox sparrow and his  friend.

 

My golden crown means I am king,

It’s why I sit atop this thing.

Melodiously will I sing,

To celebrate the fall’s last fling.

Can anybody join you there?

You seem so high up in the air.

To be alone without a care,

Just doesn’t seem to be that fair.

But please, how do I get back down?

My happy face is now a frown,

I’m feeling foolish, like a clown,

My fear is negative renown.

Oh silly girl, just fly to me,

You’ve got two wings to flutter free,

A hero you don’t need to be,

If you come down I’ll marry thee.

Says foxy sparrow to his mate,

Such foolishness will not abate,

I’d marry you at any rate,

Just follow me and don’t be late.

 


48 Comments

And so it Begins

Robbie Robin thinks of spring,

And the bounty it can bring,

In the lower elevation,

Life was like a long vacation.

 

Summer berries in the hills,

How delicious were these frills,

In the forests by the streams,

Food enough to fill his dreams.

 

 

 

Ah, but what’s that ridge of white?

Yes, it is a pretty sight,

But it means the days are chill, 

And he must come off the hill.

 

Food is scarce, the bugs are gone,

Must be time for moving on,

Back to lower, warmer climes,

And a few more happy times.

 

See my friends around my table,

Eating much as we are able,

Mountain ash is loaded full,

Grab the berries and just pull.

 

Oh, my heavens, see the snow,

I knew I was right to go,

One more feast on berries here,

Then I’ll say, “Goodbye, my dear.”


34 Comments

Hello World

You may remember the junco who guarded her nest in an unusual place.

My poor hanging basket had to go without its usual amount of water.

I didn’t want to drown the eggs in the nest the junco had made in the flower basket.

Today I thought I would check its progress and had a surprise. This little guy looks exhausted but he’s here.

I pecked and pecked for hours and hours,

And hoped it was not time for showers,

I know the flowers have to live,

But it’s a nest and not a sieve.

 

I slept and slept and snored and snored,

My mother left when she got bored,

It took so long to crack that shell,

But now I’m doing very well.

 

I panted, panted, smiled and smiled,

I have a brother, oh, how wild!

I’m not alone, in this big world,

Can’t wait to get my wings unfurled.


39 Comments

This Place is for the Birds

This spotted towhee has been living here for quite a while.

His wife is somewhere nearby but she’s more camera shy.

She looks much like her flashy husband, but her colours are slightly muted.

They have been nesting on the ground inside my fenced garden, usually under the thick rosemary bush. But this year I cut the rosemary back quite a bit, not thinking I was making the usual nesting area less inviting.

So the towhees chose the messiest corner of the garden where I had not weeded, and put a nest in the mess. I let the poppies grow up in the raised bed, thinking it would hide the weeds until I could get to them. Little did I know I was also helping hide a towhee nest.

I sneaked in there with my camera and got a picture of one towhee baby still in the nest. Mother had flown out when I came close but she went right back after I left. Now I’m hoping the baby will make it through the next critical days and weeks.

There’s no question of catching up with my weeding in this part of the jungle now.

 

Please click on the links below if you would like to take advantage of smashwords’ e-book sale. My e-books are 50% off during July.

The Wind Weeps  

Reckoning Tide

Marlie

Julia’s Violinist

Orion’s Gift