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November 13, 2003
Carpe Diem: Local woman leaves winter behind for greener pastures
By Jo Anne Wilson
Sun contributor
“I’m moving to Provence,” I announced.
“Provence?” My neighbor stared at me. “As in Southern France?” I could see her mind going. Me, the retired teacher of French had finally gone over the edge.
“Not forever,” I hastened to add, “Just for a year or two.”
“But you just retired. You have a house and two cats! What are you going to do in Provence?” She was still staring.
“I’m going to be the official on-site manager of five rental cottages on an old restored lavender farm. In France this is called being a guardien. In return for doing this, the owners are going to give me my own stone cottage rent free.” I explained. “They’re off to Australia for a few years.”
“But what will you have to do?” she asked. I could see she was still a bit baffled.
“I’ll have to meet and greet the guests and be sure that the pool man, gardener and housecleaners all do their jobs. How bad can it be? Fields of lavender, the Luberon Mountains in the distance and besides, the sun shines 320 days a year!”
I could see she was still not 100 percent convinced, but I had her attention. She’s known me for a long time and by now has learned never to be entirely surprised when my life takes a hard left at the crossroads.
I’m what is often referred to as a late bloomer. I do things out of order and I keep getting life’s lessons out of their normal sequence. Lessons learned by most toddlers and teenagers, I waited to grasp until middle age … like the lesson that when you’re upset, eating lots of cookies and ice cream may make you feel better, but it also makes you fat, and you may throw up first. I quit doing that.
Maybe I’m in perpetual reverse. When I was in my late teens, people always guessed me to be older than I was. And now, as une femme d’un certain âge (the French have such a nice way of labeling older women), I’m continually told I look much younger than my all too many hard-earned years. I also still keep getting these opportunities for change in my life at a time when I should be rubbing my Social Security check like a magic lamp, waiting for the genie to pop out.
“Sit back. Stay put. Enjoy,” the voices urge. And here I am, sitting on the doorstep of Opportunity and Big Changes. My very own Year In Provence. Yep, just me ‘n Peter Mayle. (He’s the wildly popular British author who immortalized his years in the villages of Provence, much to the horror of the townsfolk when hordes of tourists appeared on the scene.)
“But you’re retired.”whispers the voice of Doubt. “You finally have no demands on your time. No consulting or writing contracts, no job to go to, no business to run. What the hell are you thinking? You can read, paint, write, walk, bike, dance, dream, garden, or NOT, just as you wish. Have you lost your mind?”
And then, for just a moment, I’m terrified. Perhaps I have, indeed, gone completely mad. Off hormone therapy for six months now, who knows what weird short circuit has happened in my body. What? Do I think I’m 20 years old again? In your twenties, that’s when normal people seize chances for change and do things like move to France for a year.
I try to remember what I was doing when I was 20. Then, I remember. I try to forget. Being 20 (or in my case, even 30 or 40), was not a little like an extended bad episode on “Days of Our Lives”. I was mildly miserable, slightly overweight, insatiably insecure and about to leap into the first of my many attempts to control my world and fix it.
That was many years ago. In those years I’ve had opportunities to move on and do things differently than most women my age; chances to re-create myself. I also kept getting lessons, mostly about giving up control and trying to fix it.
I could go on with details of the reverse nature of my life’s opportunities and the lessons: two marriages, and another relationship, maybe too late, but maybe too soon. Major career changes when most of my counterparts were settling in to ride it out to retirement. A major relocation from one part of the state to another. I’m a bit like a kid on a merry-go-round. Someone keeps handing me the brass ring. And, thank God, I keep grabbing it. (That is when I haven’t been trying to control the speed of the merry-go-round and fix the ponies on the platform.)
So what’s my point? It is never to late to listen to your heart, and you are never too old to try something new. That’s heady philosophy, don’t you agree? Hey, I figure when the opportunity comes to move into the new space-station nursing home, I’m gonna’ sign up. Listen to your heart. Make a change. I’ve also become increasingly aware that I cannot control most things, nor can I fix many of them. Someone else is in charge.
And that’s exactly why I’m going to Provence. I’ve learned many lessons. . . some late, some early, some yet to come. It makes me sad to see anyone turn a blind eye as well as their backs on the chance to recreate themselves because our society says, “You are too old.”
There are lessons in all of our experiences. Many of my lessons have had to do with opportunity and age. Age, smage. My theory is that when Opportunity knocks, tell the Voice of Doubt to shut up, grab Opportunity by the nape of the neck and shout, “COME ONNNNN IN!” I can change. I can adjust.
Maybe I am the victim of hormones run amuck, just like some pimply faced adolescent who dreams of being a movie star. I’ve already said I seem to be living my life in some distorted version of reverse. Except I don’t dream of being a movie star. . . (well, not today anyhow, but if the talent agent calls…hey, who am I not to answer the phone.) In the meantime, I have a more modest “call”. Carpe diem. Seize the moment. Move over Peter Mayle. I’m moving to Provence.
Posted by editor at 11:33 PM | Comments (0)
Leelanau County on the Cheap, Focus: Winter
by Ashlea Turner
Sun staff writer
This column is devoted to budget travelers who enjoy fresh food and quality time spent off the beaten path in Leelanau County.
Aaaahh, winter in Leelanau County. The snowbirds have fled to the Bahamas, Arizona and Florida and only the heartiest of souls are left here to battle the elements. With the exception of a few busy weekends, this magical peninsula is very quiet (not to mention cold and snowy.) For many of the locals, this is the most wonderful time of year.
Heavy snow blankets the landscape and simplifies the contours of the land, making hills and valleys stark and beautiful. Rivers and roads run through the oversized white quilt like fine ribbon. And no one is afraid to wear a goofy-looking hat as it is a necessity.
The restaurants and bars are full of locals who regularly battle the elements to join each other to fill up on the best dining deals of the year. Many of the establishments that are too busy to even offer a stool during the summer offer the best of the deals. So come along, over the hills and through the woods to discover the best deals in Leelanau County...
Before you eat, you need to work on your appetite so make sure to go for a walk on the beach or visit the wonderful shops that remain open, at least through the holidays. Well before the Winter Solstice, there are great shopping deals in Glen Arbor from 5-7 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving. In the spirit of the early hour, this crazy event for bargain shoppers is entitled the Pajama Party. Yes, it’s a bit early and people are really dressed in pajamas. And yes, there are great deals at the local shops. ...just needed to mention it in case you needed a reason to get up at 4:30 in the morning after a big Turkey Smorgasbord the day before... on to other great deals...
While you’re in Glen Arbor, it goes without saying that the best deal around, if you’re hankering for a nibble of chocolate, is to stop in at the Cherry Republic on Lake Street for some free samples of chocolate-covered dried cherries. (But don’t tell them I sent you.)
If you’re looking for old-fashioned small town holiday shopping, visit Empire and consider attending the 1st Annual “Evening in the Village” from 5-8 p.m. on Saturday, December 6th. The shops will be offering complimentary refreshments along with many options for everyone on your shopping list including antiques, handmade gifts, art, wearables, holiday cards, pet gifts, furniture and home decor. If the merchants have anything to do with it, the weather will be snowy and full of yuletide splendor, too.
Now on to the dining deals of the century...
On Monday evenings through the winter, Art’s Tavern in Glen Arbor is once again offering a hamburger and fries deal -- Buy One -- Get One Free. The offer is only good from 5-10 p.m. on Mondays, but it’s good on any of their delicious burgers. So grab a few friends and extend the weekend through Monday evening. The Olive Burger comes highly recommended from Yours Truly.
The Western Avenue Bar & Grill in Glen Arbor and the Leelanau Country Inn, 8 miles south of Leland, also offer great specials through the winter. Be sure to check the Leelanau Enterprise for their coupons for specials such as “Buy One Entree at Regular Price and Receive a Second Entree $10.00 off!”
The best deal of the winter, however, happens on the other side of Glen Lake at “Funistrada.” On Thursday nights through the winter, they offer an incredible pasta special: two pasta dinners (with salad and bread) and a bottle of wine for $36. Every other Thursday, they also provide complimentary live and moody jazz by the Turtlenecks. NOT TO BE MISSED. Funistrada opens at 5:30 p.m. Thursday through Sunday, but it behooves you to make reservations before you come with a carload of your best friends.
Bargain hunters, hopefully you’ve figured out by now that the best dining deals take place during the week, and the same is true for other lodging and recreational deals. For example, The Homestead Resort offers its best skiing deals Tuesday - Friday afternoons from 3-8 p.m. Adult tickets are only $12, Juniors $10 and Kids $3. The views from the top of the lifts are unbeatable and it’s a wonderful place for families to learn to ski or snowboard.
And so as to not completely give away all the local haunts, here is a somewhat cryptic message about another favorite winter meal deal: Bluebird, Pizza, Tuesday Night.
See you there.
Posted by editor at 10:40 PM | Comments (0)
Baseball curses, howler monkeys and evening the score with Mayan gods
By Jacob Wheeler
Sun International Correspondent
UTILA (Islas de la Bahia), Honduras – How he found me down here I have no idea. But I have no doubt it was he who renewed the hex.
The two Chicagoans and I were as far from Wrigleyville as possible (a sleazy sports bar in the Guatemalan highlands, in fact) to watch Game 6 of the National League Championship Series on Tuesday, October 14 – an affair that we expected would vault our beloved Cubs into the World Series for the first time since the Second World War. Everything was going according to plan: Mark Prior still on the mound with a 3-0 lead in the eighth. One out, thus five outs away from the dance.
Then disaster struck.
He didn’t look imposing, nor hell-bent on breaking our hearts. Just a short Mayan Indian with dirty jeans and an old San Diego Padres cap pulled over his greasy hair. But he walked into the bar with one out in the eighth, ordered some drink that shamans use to curse rival villages, looked me straight in the eye and tipped the cap – the logo of the team that beat us in ’84, the last time the Cubbies were on the verge of the Series with a two-game lead, and lost three straight. Then it all fell apart. Déjà vu all over again.
The foul ball that the blundering idiot in the leftfield seats prevented Moises Alou from catching; the easy groundball that ate up Alex Gonzalez; and, of course, the waters flooded the earth once again.
We knew it was over. We knew the Cubs couldn’t rebound from that demoralizing loss and take Game 7 the following night. But like widows at a funeral, witnessing the burial is an obligation.
I read Nietzsche after Game 6 and showed up the following night in an existential mood, denying curses or the presence of any supernatural forces. (BLEEP) FATALISM! GO CUBS read the napkin at our table.
But by the sixth inning the Marlins had chased Kerry Wood and we were resorting to paganism ourselves. David, Greg and I began calling friends located in all four geographical directions of Chicago, asking them each to take a shot of liquor and throw it over their right shoulder: Minneapolis, Washington D.C., San Francisco, Guatemala. We even placed shots of whiskey on the alter in front of the Mayan drinking god, Tekún.
Nothing worked. It turned out later the whiskey shots were merely water. The waitress at bar Salon Tekún was clearly in cahoots with baseball’s powers that be.
We were forced to stomach a miserable loss and an early winter. Sammy Sosa had told me, himself, in Mesa, Arizona last March that he would play in the World Series this October. But it was not meant to be. We were clearly dealing with supernatural forces here.
So I promised David and Greg, and Cubs faithful everywhere that I would travel through the Mayan world, hunt down the cause of our curse and slay the dragon before its fiery breath could speak again next summer.
The ruins at Tikal
My roommate Jessica, a Guatemalan-American, told me that Mayan gods like high places, so I should take an overnight bus north from Guatemala City into the Yucatan Peninsula and climb the pyramids at Tikal, which were built long before the white men arrived in the western hemisphere with their bats and balls and leather mitts.
But my quest nearly ended before it had begun. A near mugging in the capital’s dark, deserted streets; forced at gunpoint to eat wretched, fried Pollo Campero chicken (the pride of Guatemala, though it is an exact replica of KFC). What match was I for this dog-eat-dog mentality in a country where chaos prevails? The elections this Sunday will almost certainly result in a coup de’ etat and corpses lining the streets.
Nevertheless, I pressed onward.
A 10-hour bus ride to Flores, on beautiful Lago de Petén Itzá, another 45 minutes in a rickety pickup to the Tikal National Park, where Jessica convinced the ticket salesman that we were all native Guatemalans to avoid paying the exorbitant $6.50 “gringo” cover charge. We hired a guide who spoke moderately good English and asked him to take us to the highest pyramids in addition to giving us the regular tour. He obeyed.
But I was distracted and couldn’t concentrate enough to follow his description of Mayan astronomy. I just wanted to find Temple IV, the highest of the ruins according to the map, climb to its lofty perch and consult Hasaw Chan K’awali, the great ruler who reversed a century of subjugation in 695 AD by defeating Calakmul, the other “superpower” state to the north.
Sports writers in K’awali’s time used to refer to a curse placed on him, that is, until he won the big one and silenced the critics. I figured he could offer me a word of advice regarding the Cubs’ woes, or maybe even open his official copy of the Popul Vuh (the Mayan bible) and cross out the line that says “the baseball team from Chicago, to the north in the kingdom of the rich white man, will bestow no wine, only tears on its supporters.”
Edgar, a Red Sox fan from Rhode Island, begged to accompany me to the top of Temple IV, claiming his team was cursed as well. I figured “why not”, Mr. K’awali would be more prone to take pity on two crying, middle-class white boys than one.
At the top of the great tower of Babel we heard a great roar that shook the very foundation of the pyramid. Edgar was about to scamper back to the ground, claiming he had no love for bloodthirsty lions, but I convinced him to stay and face the challenge. We’d have to confront our nemesis with conviction to end the curses that have plagued our peoples for years.
All of a sudden half a dozen “howler” monkeys revealed themselves in the treetops below. The mother’s roar seemed to say “stay away from my babies or I’ll throw you off of this mount”, but I knew better. She was issuing a direct challenge to my quest.
Salvation
Sensing the moment of truth was near, I held my ground, thought of former Cubs great Ron Santo, who still shows up to the ballpark every day even though the gods have taken his two legs, and dropped into the third baseman’s crouch. I was ready to charge the monkey if she dropped a bunt down the line and prepared to back up and snare a fierce line drive if she swung away.
And then, just when the staredown was approaching a climax, the howler monkey took a called third strike (a Joe Borowski fastball right down the middle of the plate), quit its bellyaching and retreated, taking its miserly act back to the dugout, or a new part of the Petén jungle. Victory was mine.
I waited around for another half hour to see if Mr. K’awali would show up and confirm what I already knew to be true – the curse was now over and the Cubs were sure to reach the World Series in the near future -- but I never saw him. He must have been in Cuba, watching winter ball with a fat stogy between his lips and a little salsa princess by his side. Who could blame him.
Nevertheless, Edgar and I both agreed that our fortunes had changed. We had traveled to the Mayan Olympus, confronted the gods and their terrible beasts, and won the battle. It was time to descend back to earth and await the outcome.
My two companions and I spent a night in Livingstone, the Rastafarian outpost on Guatemala’s Caribbean coast, before I headed to Honduras, alone, to enjoy the sweet spoils of victory: six days of scubadiving off the Bay Islands (Islas de la Bahia), looking for whale sharks and exploring shipwrecks at 30 meters. In the evenings I feasted on lobster and drank Cuba Libres with other backpackers while sharing my recent tails of woe.
Jacob Wheeler is the founding editor of the Glen Arbor Sun, and he insists there is a direct connection between Mayan mythology and the hapless Chicago Cubs. He can be reached via email at jacobrwheeler@hotmail.com
Posted by editor at 09:42 PM | Comments (0)
Smart Growth Coalition focuses on Leelanau
By Ashlea Turner
Sun staff writer
Although many people want life in their communities to stay just as it is, change and growth are inevitable. This concept has hit home in the last decade with Leelanau County residents. With a population growth rate of 27 percent in the last decade alone, our home has become one of the fastest growing areas in Michigan. About 500 new people a year are quickly discovering what an amazing place Leelanau County is when they find a home here. The natural environment is beautiful, the villages are quaint, the people are friendly and the overall quality of life here is tough to beat, so this kind of growth should come as no surprise. One word comes to mind -- inevitable.
According to the Michigan Land Use Institute, an extremely effective nonprofit land use policy organization located in Benzie County (with offices in Grand Rapids, Lansing and Traverse City), Leelanau’s rapid growth is offering “new opportunities for the region’s young people, who are finding satisfying work at home rather than traveling to distant cities. But growth is also producing dissatisfying outcomes -- more water pollution, loss of farmland and open space, traffic congestion and a quickening pace of life.”
Though some people believe that these side effects are also inevitable and “that’s just the price we’ll have to pay”, The Michigan Land Use Institute, along with an increasing number of local citizens, doesn’t agree. In response to Leelanau’s potential for growing pains, the MLUI is proactively helping to organize and empower concerned citizens across the county, in the form of a “Leelanau Smart Growth Coalition.” Through education, collaboration and empowerment, the Coalition hopes to make certain that the “peninsula’s rapid development is environmentally sensible and economically sustainable.”
What’s particularly striking about this Coalition is how different it is from traditional activist groups in its extreme diversity. This bipartisan and active Coalition is currently made up of local government officials, farmers, business leaders, professionals, conservationists, and plenty more. So what brings all these different types of people together? The simple answer is a love of Leelanau County. The more complex answer is a strong desire to work with others to encourage the incorporation of the Ten Core Principles of Smart Growth. They are as follows:
Smart Growth
- Fosters distinctive, attractive communities with a strong sense of place
- Preserves open space, farmland, scenic beauty and valuable natural areas
- Strengthens and directs development towards existing communities, where infrastructure and other services are already available
- Mixes land uses
- Takes advantage of compact building design
- Creates a range of housing choices and opportunities
- Creates walkable neighborhoods
- Provides a variety of transportation choices
- Makes development decisions predictable, fair and cost effective
- Encourages broad community and stakeholder collaboration in development decisions
In order to educate and empower citizens and officials alike about change and growth in their communities, the MLUI Smart Growth Coalition will host quarterly meetings across the county, “inviting leaders to share knowledge about development issues facing the county and gain the comfort to work together.” To find out when the next meeting will be in your area or to find out more information about the Coalition, visit www.mlui.org/leelanau (Or read next year’s issues of the Glen Arbor Sun for expanded coverage of the Smart Growth Coalition -- Ed.)
Will Smart Growth one day be as inevitable as sprawl is today? On the Michigan state level, there is already bipartisan leadership working to advance Smart Growth policies in the legislature, according to the MLUI. Many township and village planning commissions across the state are also adopting Smart Growth policies in their Master Plans, including many already underway in Leelanau County. Many local government officials are hardworking and thoughtful, but they can’t do everything and they certainly shouldn’t do it alone, without public input. Thankfully, the MLUI is here to provide a vehicle for public concern in Leelanau County’s future.
Posted by editor at 08:47 PM | Comments (0)
Secrets of trumpeter swans. Don’t gawk!
By Linda Jo Scott
Sun staff writer
This story has a secret at its core. It's a bit like writing about a favorite fishing hole -- or a special spot where morels love to grow. Shhh....
In this case, it's a small pond somewhere in Calhoun or Eaton County where a family of trumpeter swans has settled permanently. Now you ask, why can't I give the name or location of the pond? Well, the folks living near it -- and even a retired Department of Natural Resources biologist -- don't want those swans bothered by gawkers. And let's face it, we've all got a bit of a gawker gene in us.
If you'll promise you won't try to find out just where this pond is, you may proceed with my story.
To begin, we must go back to the late 1800s, when swan down was highly valued for ladies' hats, feather comforters and pillows. In the early days, trumpeter swans were plentiful in Michigan, but over the years, hunters caused them to vanish completely.
A century later, in the early 90s, Michigan State's W.K. Kellogg Biological Station, along with the Michigan Department of Natural Resources Natural Heritage Program, have worked hard to bring the trumpeter swans back.
First, the birds needed to be located in other states. Approximately 60 swans were known to live high up in the Rocky Mountains, but the state of Alaska boasted a population of a couple of hundred swans which were far more accessible. Fertilized eggs from these birds as well as eggs from the Detroit and Belle Isle Zoos were brought to the Gull Lake Kellogg Bird Sanctuary. The eggs were hatched, and the little signets were raised until they reached two years of age. At this stage, they were released as pairs into Michigan wetlands. In 1991, alone, 61 swans were successfully released in Michigan.
According to the latest survey over 400 trumpeter swans have already been released, and there are at least 325 living in Michigan.
Retired DNR biologist Marvin Cooley was instrumental in this whole trumpeter swan renaissance. Cooley worked for the DNR for 45 years, specializing in waterfowl and, in his later years, in the swan re-introduction program. An active and collaborative biologist, Cooley still keeps in regular contact with various trumpeter swan projects around the state. Dear to his heart are the neighbors who live near the aforementioned pond, for they watch out for the swans, record and photograph their activities, report all relevant information to Cooley, and protect the swans from, yes, from gawkers.
In fact these good folks think of the swan family of one cob (male), one pen (female) and seven little cygnets, as members of the neighborhood and have named them George and Gracie. Word around the neighborhood is that George definitely responds to his name, and Gracie just might recognize hers, as well.
A year or two ago, George and Gracie went to battle against some invading Canada geese. They prevailed, and some baby geese perished in the fracus. Naturally the entire war was reported quickly and accurately by the swans' neighbors.
Cooley goes on to explain that trumpeter swans are not nearly as aggressive as mute swans, who first came here from England and who, in his opinion have multiplied "out of control." He feels strongly, as do most biologists, that introducing foreign life forms is a tricky business, citing, as examples, the overabundance of autumn olive plants, florabunda roses, purple lustrife, zebra mussels, and ruff (bottom dwelling fish).
Where does funding come from to perpetuate projects such as the trumpeter swan reintroduction program? Interestingly enough, Cooley, who reveres life, is grateful to the federal government for revenues on guns and ammunition.
"Funds from these taxes have helped buy land for the DNR and made many of our projects possible," he explains.
Like Cooley, Joe Johnson, chief wildlife biologist at the Kellogg Biological Station, is very proud of the trumpeter swan project." We are on the verge of a major conservation success story," he explains.
But please, remember that promise you made in the third paragraph. No gawkers.
Posted by editor at 07:49 PM | Comments (0)
The deer, and the night, and the music
By Mary Sharry
Sun contributor
One winter night, when the snow was deep, the deer moved into the village to forage at the bird feeders. I stood at the front window and played my violin. Drawing the bow over taut strings, I was intent on producing a sweet tone. For a beginner this was not easy.
There were no cars, and the only tracks under the street lamp were those made by the deer earlier in the evening followed by mine along with the dog’s. I played, and the dog moved to another part of the house.
Across the road, from out of the pines, a head emerged – a deer, and then another and another, and they slowly crossed the street and came into the front yard while I stood at the window. I played and they were motionless. They listened. Their ears were enormous. The deer were my first audience and they remained until I had finished, and then as elegantly as they had arrived, they left, disappearing into the pines.
The next night when I played, the deer came again, and the night after that there were six of them. They stood perfectly still. I tried to play beautifully, my full Suzuki repertoire – Go Tell Aunt Rhody, Oh Come Little Children, even Perpetual Motion. Each night, after the performance, they would leave, and return later for dinner at the bird feeders.
Perhaps the deer had only come for the food after all, but while they stayed they listened, their gaze fixed toward the window, their ears, I imagined, filled with the sound of music. One night, though, they didn’t appear, and I thought that perhaps the thaw had allowed them to move on to more suitable grazing areas.
I’ve continued to play each night, standing there with some hope that the deer will return as I try to pull a pleasing sound from my violin. Now I’ve gone on to Bach Minuets, and the dog still leaves the room.
Perhaps the deer would be enticed if they heard Brahms’ Waltz. Surely, they wouldn’t like von Weber’s Hunters’ Chorus. Maybe though, it’s the food. I’ve not served corn for some time. Would they come back for Schumann’s Happy Farmer?
Posted by editor at 06:51 PM | Comments (0)
Nature journal: Fall wildlife abundant in the backyard
By Jane Greiner
Sun staff writer
Fall is a great time for backyard wildlife. It seems as if every creature is out and about, busy fattening up for the winter ahead. It’s amazing how many different birds and animals frequent our back yard.
We encourage them with bird feeders, suet feeders and bird baths set out to attract the them. The feeders attract more than just the birds; small animals come from time to time as well as deer.
The most blatant feeder robbers are the squirrels. We have at least three kinds of squirrels in our yard. There are the plushy looking gray squirrels with their big fluffy tails. When the light hits them correctly you can see how each hair is silver tipped.
There is also a pair of rather rotund all-black squirrels. My squirrel book says the blacks are just a rather common variant of gray squirrel.
There are the feisty, pint-sized red squirrels. You would swear these little guys were baby squirrels until you see one chasing after the bigger, less aggressive grays.
In addition, the nocturnal flying squirrels are visible in the evenings as they swoop down from nearby trees like single wind-swept leaves. When they climb around in the trees they move so fast it is almost impossible to follow their motion. Once in a while they pause and we can see how tiny they actually are, not much bigger than a big mouse!
There are also one or two cotton-tail rabbits that come around at dusk to search for corn the deer have missed. We also have a raccoon who visits from time to time and an occasional opossum.
All summer long the deer stay in the woods where we rarely see them. But now they make regular stops at our deer feeder (a split log on which we sprinkle corn). We seem to have one particular doe with two half-grown babies who come by every evening after Lyn puts out the corn.
All the wild critters have learned to ignore our dogs no matter how loud they bark. As long as the dogs are safely inside the house, the deer or raccoon will keep eating. However they always position themselves facing the house so they can keep a wary eye.
We never let the dogs go out without purposely making some noise or slamming a door to give the critters a chance to escape. By the time the dogs hit the turf it is unoccupied by any of the previous visitors.
One day while the dogs were out they stalked and caught a little field mouse. The dogs were playing with him, not killing him but not letting him get away either. I went out to rescue him and found him frightened but facing his attackers as if he had a chance of fighting them off. I pulled the dogs into the house and waited for the field mouse to make a getaway. I heard later from my TOPS ladies that this was the time of year the mice were trying to get into everyone’s houses. Not a good idea at my house with our two dogs and three cats in residence.
Besides all the bonus critters, our bird feeders do attract a variety of birds. Fall brings a marked increase in feeder activity. Easiest to spot are the bright and handsome blue jays. In addition we have the upside-down walking nuthatches (both the red-breasted and the white breasted), the bold little black-capped chickadees, the tufted titmice, the now olive colored goldfinches.
The big, soft-looking doves are ground-feeders so they are always foraging below the feeders for scattered seeds. Dark-eyed junkos are the other birds commonly found eating below feeders.
The suet feeders are great attractions for woodpeckers. We get the downy (smaller) and hairy (larger) woodpeckers, the large red-bellied woodpeckers (which don’t have a red belly at all, but do have a bright red cap on their head), and the giant, prehistoric-looking pileated woodpecker.
Lyn saw a rare (for us) red-headed woodpecker on her way to work down by the Narrows. We saw one there a few years ago so we hope they are back. We would love to have red-headed woodpeckers visit our feeders.
We still see many wild turkeys along the roads but have not had any in our yard for several weeks.
Identifying our birds recently became easier with publication of a new bird book called Birds of Michigan by Ted Black and Gregory Kennedy. I saw a copy at a friend’s house and had to rush out and buy one for myself. It’s handy because it covers only Michigan birds, is visually organized for easy use, and has one full page of information for each bird.
When the weather turns even colder, we will put away the summer birdbath and set up the heated winter one which keeps water available for the birds when everything else is frozen. A heated bird bath sounds like an extravagance, but some books I have read say that water can be harder for birds to find in winter than food. So we like to provide water for our birds.
In addition we will continue to cart home 50-pound bags of birdseeds and keep paths to our feeders snow blown so that we can keep them filled all winter. Last year when I mumbled something about the cost of corn and birdseeds, Lyn said, “We will NOT try to save money on bird seeds!” She’s right, of course. I don’t know why I even mentioned it. Nothing can match the enjoyment we received from watching our multitude of wild creatures that venture into our back yard.
Posted by editor at 05:54 PM | Comments (0)