wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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Foraging

Red-shafted flickers, part of the woodpecker family, have long beaks that are great for probing for insects and grubs. They will also eat fruit and seeds. Whatever is on the menu, their beaks come in handy.

Here is a mother flicker teaching junior all about poking holes in trees to find something to eat. As always, mother bird is looking out for danger every few seconds. You can’t let your guard down with hawks and owls around.

They are not picky about which restaurant they dine at. If they think there might be something good in the siding of that house, why not see if there’s an appetizer in there?

They don’t mind picking at seeds when the bugs are hard to find. This suet block was not in the shape of a duck when I first put it out there. We must have an artistic bunch of birds visiting here.

In this short video clip, you can see that flickers don’t mind checking out the ground  for bugs either. Here is where that beak comes in really handy. The dirt is just flying. And again, the flicker checks for danger at the slightest movement. Right near the end of the clip, do you see what got its attention as it flew by? I can’t tell if it’s a tiny bird or an insect, but the flicker was aware of it and on alert before going back to its excavating.

 

 

I dug, dug, dug,

For a bug, bug, bug,

Sometimes I’d find a seed.

 

I pick, pick, pick,

And flick, flick, flick,

The dirt more than I need.

 

But yum, yum, yum,

I hum, hum, hum,

 I followed up my hunch.

 

It’s fun, fun, fun,

Bugs run, run, run,

But thanks a bunch for lunch.


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Like Watching Paint Dry

Might as well do my nails while I’m watching the walnuts dry.

In the lower level, by the woodstove, the walnuts are bagged and almost ready to be hung above the woodstove to finish drying. I think I’ll have to get another burlap bag or maybe two more, to hold all those nuts as they dry. All the messy work of scraping the black goo from the shells has been done. Now we wait. Most days, I sneak a few to bring out to the squirrels.

I wonder if there will be any walnuts left by Christmas.

 


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Puppy at the Beach

When Emma was only about a year old, we took her for an outing at the beach one day.

 

What looked to us to be just tired sea grasses was probably a shoreline full of life.

 

 

“Did  I see something move out there?”

 

 

“Whoah! Is that water closer than it was a second ago?”

 

 

“Are we safe here?”

 

 

“Okay, then. Just say the word, and I’ll go bring you that bird I saw down the beach.”

I’m sure I saw a movement there

Way down along the beach,

I’ll go and chase it if I dare…

But naw, it’s out of reach.

 

And anyway these waves are big,

The worst thing is they’re wet,

But pups like me don’t give a fig,

They haven’t hurt me yet.

 

So I’ll be brave and daring too,

I’ll chase those birds around,

I’ll show my folks what I can do,

And what a pup they’ve found.


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Emma’s Story

When I was just a baby, my older sister Ruby was the boss. She was always trying to tell me what to do.

One day, Anneli took my bed away, and I tried to claim what was left of it – just the inside part was left.

Ruby was playing the part of Miss Know-it-all.

Something moved out on the grass. Don’t forget, we’re hunting dogs. It’s our job to chase anything that moves.

 

But Anneli didn’t bring us food and she didn’t look like she was sorry for anything. She just laughed and said, “What are you doing in the wheelbarrow?”

Soon, while Ruby went to chase the rabbit, Anneli told me everything was okay. She had another bed fixed up for me on the deck. I tried for some compensation, but she didn’t go for it.

When she put me into the special bed on the bedroom deck, I was going to gloat a bit about how I had messed up her sliding door with nose prints. I was going to tell her, “Haha! So there! That’s what you get for making me worry about my bed,” but before I could tell her all that, I succumbed to the softness of the bed’s furry  pillowcase, and off I went to Doggie Dreamland.


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More Nuts Than Ever

I’m tired of washing, pitting, and freezing plums. The pears and apples are finished except for one winter apple tree that will be ready in about three weeks. So now it’s time to have a look at the walnut tree.

A closer look will show a few walnuts still hanging on. Some look dark and some quite green, but that is only the outer husk you are looking at. As the nut grows and the husk dries out, the nut and what’s left of its husk fall to the ground.

This one shouldn’t be too hard to pop out of its husk, but beware, the inside of that green coating stains like crazy. It would make a perfect “walnut” furniture stain. My hands always seem to end up looking like part of a walnut end table.

Once the husk is off the walnut, you can see the walnut that we are more familiar with, but it still needs some drying time. A burlap bag hung on the wall beside the woodstove is the perfect place to dry the walnuts.

Every couple of days I sneak some and take them to the woodshed as an offering to my squirrels.

“Thank you, Anneli,” Crispin chatters.

 

I love to have a change of food,

A different kind of nut,

The walnuts put me in a mood,

That makes me pat my gut.

 

The hazelnuts are such a treat,

I’ve packed a lot away,

But walnuts have delicious meat,

They’re best of all, I’d say.

 

I bite a hazelnut and run,

To hide it in a cache,

But walnuts are too big, no fun,

To lug them to my stash.

 

And this is why it’s oh, so fine,

To have them brought to me,

I know that all of them are mine,

To be devoured with glee.

 

 


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Lunch with Crispin

Hi again! I’m Crispin. Remember me? I’m kind of small, but I’m not unimportant. I’d like you to watch a video clip of me eating a hazelnut. Please ignore Anneli’s unsteady hand with the camera. She’s getting old and a bit shaky sometimes. (But don’t tell her I said that).

So that’s how you do it.  It takes two hands to spin it around as you eat, but that keeps it round. Kind of like licking an ice cream cone around and around so it doesn’t flop over. But don’t forget to put most of the nuts away for the winter.

Would you like me to peel one for you? Then we could have lunch together.

Hazelnuts are oh, so yummy,

Feel so good inside my tummy,

But there’s one important trick,

Learning how to peel them quick.


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Not so Grisly Grizzlies

If you’re lucky enough to have a boat and can travel up Canada’s west coast, when you get close to the US (Alaska) border, you may find yourself near the Khutzeymateen Inlet, behind Somerville Island. You would then be in grizzly country. A few years ago,  a friend anchored in this inlet and saw some of these wonderful bears on the beach nearby. He took these photos and I am posting them with his permission. Farther up the inlet, south of the Kateen River, is an area that, in 1994, was declared the Khutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary.

 

This might not be the best place to go ashore to stretch your legs.

In case you were in doubt about what kind of bear this is, check out the hump on his (or her) back that identifies him (or her) as a grizzly. And no, he/she’s not a camel.

 

Camel, you say? Come over here and say that! Bruno, did you hear what he said? Just because my back has a hump….

Yeah! I heard. You’re no camel. I’ll “back” you up on that, Honey. Get it? Get it? Ha ha … “back” you up? Although … that is quite a hump you have there.

Now that’s enough out of you. You shouldn’t forget who your friends are. I might have to swim over to that boat and climb aboard to teach that guy a lesson.

It’s okay, Honey. Calm down. He’s just another gawking human. I’ll keep an eye on him from here while I eat some salad.  Hmm … I wouldn’t mind a bit of hamburger with my grass.  But I don’t see him coming ashore any time soon.

 

 

My thanks to Ken Johnstone who kindly allowed  me to use his photos.


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Young Heron

Hi! I’m a great blue heron.

Well, I’ve landed here, high up in a fir tree. Mom said it’s pretty safe and I should wait for her here.

But uh-oh. Do I hear a raven? Or is it a crow? Either way, they can be a real pain when they harass us. No wonder they call them a murder of crows when they get into a gang.

Whew! They’ve passed over. Time for a quick preening while I have the chance.

Those darn bugs. The second I sit in a tree, they get on me. Oh well, I had to straighten out my feathers anyway after that rough landing in these branches. But Mom said it’s safer here than out in the open where the eagles can see me.

Oh no! Is that an eagle up there? Mom said if they come after me, all I have to do is fly way up high in circles and keep going higher and higher, and after a while the eagles can’t keep up. They’re heavier than we are and can’t go as high.

Looks like they passed over. I hope Mom hurries up. I’m getting nervous up here.

 

I’m a heron, please stop starin’,

Thought I’d rest up in this tree.

Much attention, I must mention,

Might draw predators to me.

 

Though an eagle may seem regal,

They send terror vibes my way,

I take care and stay aware, and

Live to see another day.

 


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Pronghorns, the Not-Antelope

Pronghorns are not really antelopes. They are related more closely to giraffes and okapis. I’m not big on trophy hunting, but I took this photo at the home of someone who is, and I find it useful to show what a pronghorn looks like up close. Apologies to the non-hunters. I have mixed feeling about the whole thing, but it’s not the purpose of this post to start a discussion of the topic of hunting. It is a natural thing for animals (including man) to hunt for food, but nowadays we let someone else do the killing for us. I like my steak once in a while, just as most people do, and yet I cry if I see an animal get hurt.  So where’s the logic in that? And to be fair, the person who shot this pronghorn most likely ate the meat the way we eat beef.

As you can see, they have horns with a prong on them, but they don’t bother anyone unless they are desperate or trapped, perhaps up against a fence that they don’t like to jump. They prefer to crawl under fences, but that slows them down in their attempt to escape predators such as coyotes.

If necessary, they can run at close to 90 miles per hour for a short distance, but around 60 mph for a prolonged run. Since they are, otherwise, rather defenseless, it’s a good thing they are considered North America’s fastest land animal.

These pronghorns  happened to be near a pullout on the highway in eastern Montana. I got a couple of quick photos but they didn’t want to hang around or come closer for a better picture.

The grasses taste like cereal,

What kind is immaterial,

But forbs, those leafy, juicy plants,

Are lovely,  when they’re found by chance.

 

While munching herby sagebrush here,

Our leader raised his head in fear,

Beware the tourist, here she comes,

With fumbling camera, she’s all thumbs.

 

Let’s smile and let her take her shot, 

But wander farther at a trot.

One never knows where danger lies,

When people one of us espies.

 

If need be, we can all take flight,

Across the fields with all our might.

The photo op will have to wait,

Just save your lives, it’s not too late.

 

And yet, she looks so harmless there,

Let’s pose for one and be more fair,

We have a good head start from her,

And we can leave her in a blur.