At a certain time of the evening, the last rays of the sun paint a golden glow on the tall firs. We call it “the nice light” when that happens. The morning light is similar, but the glow isn’t as warm as the evening light.
This travel lift can pick up a boat and take it right out of the water. People work on their boats after they are set on a parking lot. It allows access to all parts of the boat when it is sitting up high and dry.
Here the belts are being lowered into the water and slipped under the boat’s hull. You can see the front belt resting in the water, waiting for the sailboat to float over it.
Now the belts are snugged up, making a cradle to lift the boat out of the water. The travel lift, basically a frame on wheels, rolls along over the water, bringing the boat closer to the parking lot.
As it gets quite close to dry land, the operator of the travel lift must make sure that the boat is sitting securely in the cradle and that it has been lifted high enough so the keel clears the level of the pavement.
The lift operator is standing front of the boat in the photo below, using a remote control gadget to lift or move the boat and the “frame on wheels.” You may notice that there are two belts lying on the pavement. These are spares that are not necessary for a small sailboat. Two belts will be enough to lift it. But when it is time to lift a heavier boat such as the Captain’s troller (which weighs over twice as much as this sailboat), the extra straps will be needed to lift it.
A week earlier, the Captain had his commercial troller lifted out and put on the parking lot so he could work on the hull of the boat. Now it is time to lift it up and carry it back to the water.
How powerful must that travel lift be to raise up a 39-ft. troller and roll it across the parking lot back to the water. Notice the extra straps, front and back.
Let’s hope the operator gets the wheels of that lift aligned with the pathways for it on either side of the water. You wouldn’t want to miss. I see floating containment “booms” to keep something scungy away from the boats and the shore. Not sure what that is all about. Probably to catch any oil or fuel that might leak from a boat that is in need of repair.
Hi, I’m Woody. Not like Woody Woodpecker. Woody, like short for Woodrow.
Have you heard the news? There’s a big food fest at Anneli’s.
This old stump has been here at least twenty years. I bet there are some well-established bugs inside.
Oof! Wa-a-a-ay inside.
Okay. There’s got to be an easier way.
Maybe I’ll check on Wilma and see if she’s found anything that’s easier to get to.
Woodrow, Woodrow,
Checks the wood growth,
Looking for some bugs.
Sticks his beak in,
Bugs he’s findin’,
Spears them and he tugs.
They’re elusive,
Not conducive,
To a snacky lunch.
Wilma beckons,
Food, he reckons,
Least that is his hunch.
Tried the stump here,
Bugs have no fear,
He can’t reach that far.
Wilma eats well,
That he can tell,
Finds more food by far.
Woody sweet talks,
Wilma just gawks,
Gives up her good spot.
This is great stuff,
Searching’s not tough,
Wilma, thanks a lot.
*****
“Oh no! Is that who I think it is? ”
“Hi Jasper. What are you up to? Any lunch you want to share?”
Oh darn it all. She always shows up at lunch time.
“”Er, ah, hi Roberta. I was just going to have my VEGETARIAN lunch. Nothing you’d be interested in.”
“What is that you’re eating, Jasper? Don’t you prefer seeds and nuts?”
“Yes, well, when it’s hot like this, I like a few greens to help with the thirst.”
“Oh, what the heck. Come on over. There are plenty of weeds to spare in Anneli’s yard. I’m helping her with the weed eating.”
And I’m almost as fast manually as she is with the electric one. I’m like that song by Hall and Oates, The Maneater, except my words are a little bit different.
“Sit still, Flossie. I see Anneli out there with her camera again. Don’t move.”
“Oh, whew! She’s just taking pictures of her poppies. That IS a nice one though, isn’t it?”
“I hear ya, I hear ya. You don’t care about the flowers…. You’ll just have to be patient and I’ll find a bug for you.”
“Oh, this motherhood is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“But then they grow up and they make you proud. Must keep that in mind.”
*****
“A mother’s work is never done,” says Roberta Robin.
“Come on, Reuben. We have to teach you to hunt for yourself. I can’t keep doing this for you.”
“This is what we’re after.”
“Now watch carefully and I’ll show you how to hunt for these yummy earthworms.”
“First, you have to listen. That means you don’t shuffle your feet and you don’t squawk and run around. That sends them underground.”
“But they ARE underground, aren’t they?” Reuben asks.
“I meant ‘figuratively speaking,'” Roberta says with a sigh. “You’re overthinking this. It’s just a worm hunt. So you lean over like this, close to the ground, and listen. And keep your eyes open too because you might see the grass wiggle as they try to escape.”
“Then when you hear one making a run for it–”
“But they don’t have any legs. How can they make a run for it?” Reuben asks.
“FIGURATIVELY speaking!” Roberta sighs. “Why me? Why did I have to give birth to a little professor?”
“As I was saying, when they make a ru– er… a bid for freedom, you snag ’em with your beak. You might have to dig and peck a little but if you’re quick you’ll get the worm.”
“So it’s the quick bird that gets the worm,” Reuben says. “Not necessarily the early bird.”
“Here you go, Professor Reuben,” says Roberta. “Now you try it. The next one I get will be for me, so you’d better try hard to get your own. That’s it. Get that ear to the ground.”
While I grab a bite for myself at last!
Wilma is a pileated woodpecker. She doesn’t have the red slash that the males have under their cheek. Wilma is a juvenile. Her red topknot is not yet fully developed.
She is hungry for insects, her main food.
“Oh, look! There’s Anneli’s garden,” says Wilma. “She’s always complaining about the bugs in it. I should check it out.”
“Now let’s have a look. Yup! Lots of weeds, so that’s good for my bug search.”
“Just got to make sure that dog of hers isn’t around. That Emma can be a real nuisance.”
“Okay, first raised bed. Hmm … nothing but stray poppies and weeds. What gives?”
“And over here, she hasn’t even planted anything … other than a few rocks.”
“These oriental poppies look pretty. Buzzing with bees inside them. But I’m looking for bugs, not bees.”
“Okay, so that was a bust. I think I’ll just stick to my roaming around and around these fir trees, and maybe check out a few stumps.”
“By the way, you want to hear my dad calling? He is magnificent!”
Riled up clouds go lumbering by,
Stirring up unsettled sky,
Wispy, misty moisture passes,
Light diffused upon its masses.
Sun’s last efforts streaming low,
Just before it lets us go,
Into darkness for some hours,
As the clouds spit out their showers.
Promises of warmer rays,
Shining down in coming days,
Though Sun sleeps behind the hill,
It will rise again, it will.
Morning rays revitalize,
More than we can realize,
But for now it says good night,
Telling all of us, “Sleep tight.”
Jasper and Caspar are two of Lincoln’s babies. They bumble and bounce around the woodshed and the trees, quite naively, unaware that danger lurks everywhere.
But today, Jasper cares only about eating.
“It’s a chilly day for June,” he says. “I have to eat something to warm up. I’ll try this bit of bark .”
“Oops! Oh darn. It fell between the logs. It wasn’t that tasty anyway. I need to find a cone.”
“Maybe there’s one tucked inside this stump.”
“Ho-Hohhhh!” says Caspar. “What are you up to, Jasper? Anything I can help you find?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all.” Jasper tries to sound convincing. “Why don’t you just go find your own cones, Caspar? This is MY stump.”
“Whew! Got rid of him. But now, to find a new cone. Let’s see…. Where can I find a cone? There must be some buried around here. I’m thinking, I’m thinking….”
“I’ll try digging here. Looks like a lot of digging has been going on.”
“Ahh … yes! My reward for all my hard work. Now I’d better find a safe place to eat it.”
Jasper and Caspar have once shared a nest
Now they just fight about who is the best.
Who can find hazelnuts, filberts, and cones?
Who fills his stomach then lies down and groans?
One finds a treasure, the other sneaks in,
Stuffs up his face from his cheeks to his chin,
Runs to a stump where he gobbles his loot,
Before brother jumps up to give him the boot.
Backflips and scampers around and around,
Climbing up fir trees till he can’t be found,
“I’ll get you for that,” Jasper chatters out loud.
“So catch me,” sneers Caspar. He’s feeling quite proud.
“What about sharing?” our Jasper exclaims.
Quivering mad, he is tired of these games.
“Dig,” Caspar says, “there are more cones to find,
It’s called competition, and that, I don’t mind.”
Years ago, before I got a good camera, I took this photo of a grizzly. It’s not very clear, but I really didn’t want to do a close-up.
This is the Orford River which flows into Bute Inlet on the west coast of British Columbia.
We had tied the fish boat to a small dock in a bay around the corner, and then took a ride up the river in our aluminum skiff. The area was known for grizzlies and we wanted to see one, but I hadn’t counted on two things:
that we would actually see one not too far away,
and that the mouth of the Orford has a lot of sandbars.
I’ve had nightmares about bears forever, but it would still be a big deal to see one. I knew if a bear actually came along and tried to chase us, we could just turn the skiff around, rev up the outboard, and roar out of there.
On the way upriver though, we were pushing the boat off one sandbar after another with the oars to keep in water deep enough to use the motor. These sandbars were spotty and just when you thought you were in the clear, up popped another one. So I was even more nervous than usual. And of course that’s when we saw him.
Even with his hind end in the water, as he swatted at salmon going by, I could tell he was huge. We watched for a moment or two, but when he saw us, we knew it.
His head came up and he stretched his neck up tall. Then as he sauntered in our direction along the fallen log that you see lying across the river, we thought it was time to get out of there.
There are some things you do in your life that seem okay at the time, and later you say to yourself, “What was I thinking?!”
This was one of those times.
It was a big thrill to see the bear, but what if he hadn’t been so agreeable? Didn’t I know how fast they can run for a short sprint? And what if we had gotten high-centered on one of those sandbars in our haste to get away.
Everything could have ended up differently.
And I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about it,
because bears don’t have Internet inside their bellies.
