“Wow! Will ya look at the birdfeeders swinging sideways!
And what gives with all the birds making themselves at home in MY home?
There must be a hundred of them parked in all the entrances to my hidey-holes in the woodshed. Zoom on in and look at the pieces of wood. Nearly every piece is occupied.
Oh, well. They’re just trying to get out of the wind too. I suppose I can always sneak in the back door if need be.”
Grab a bite of seeds to eat,
Head for cover quick.
Hope the gusts will not unseat,
Gripping tight’s the trick.
Every chunk of wood is used,
As a ledge to sit,
With this wind we’re so abused,
Flying branches hit.
Siskin! Better hang on tight,
To that swaying feed,
Hope that you will be all right,
And no help you’ll need.
These Oregon juncos are probably wishing they were in Oregon, but they have been wintering on Vancouver Island, as usual. I felt very sorry for them when that last snowfall covered most of their natural food sources. Sitting beside a well filled bird feeder, they can’t be starving, but they must be feeling a bit chilly. Their feathers are fluffed out for more insulating power, and I suspect they are not expending any more energy than necessary.
Feeling the same shivery chill, the Captain said, “This is the perfect weather for smoking some salmon.”
It was a lot of work, but after hours of preparation, and timing the brining and smoking process, he brought in a wonderful treat for us. Smoked spring salmon, or as the Americans call it, king salmon. It is properly called a chinook salmon, or if you want to get technical, Oncorhynchus tshawytscha.
Here is what it looked like once upon a time. This is an old photo from MANY years ago. You can only guess how seasick I felt, but catching this big spring salmon made me happy. If I don’t look overjoyed, well, that’s as good as it got for me as long as the boat was moving.