Deep In December . . . .

Posted on December 24, 2014 by bygeorge

“what’s this?” . . . .

Christmas Eve, 2014

We braved the wintry blast to travel to Denver in late December, taking care of routine appointments, shopping for Christmas presents, visiting a few old haunts, and marveling at children of all ages singing or playing musical instruments in holiday concerts. Family gatherings with good food and conversation topped off our winter sojourn away from the country life we normally live.

Upon our return we found a foot of snow still lingering and the thermometer barely hovering above zero. Rosie wiggled with excitement to see us; Bleu roused from his slumbers to yawn, stretch and purr; Mr. Mouse, the barn cat returned from the hunt to be tucked into his warm bed; and the geese called out a raucous greeting from their pen.

The next morning, as we dressed in our barnyard finery to resume our routine and tend to the chores, it seemed a stark contrast. We hauled buckets of water and grain, opened doors to greet a little sunlight and thaw things out, gathered eggs and heard the news from the hen house, turned the geese out from their pen, walked to the barn to muck Tilly’s stall, groom her and turn her out for the day, threw down fresh hay for Feed Lot the steer, and watched with bemusement as Tilly raced around the barnyard bucking, kicking and harassing her buddy Feed Lot, whose only real interest in life is his next meal. Bird feeders had to be replenished and water bowls filled to help our furry little friends through the cold.

resting in snow caves . . . .

When we first spied these sparrows huddled in impressions in the snow, we thought something was amiss. We watched them for a while and decided they were trying to stay warm out of the cold wind, unlike the guineas who bolted from their new abode on the eve of our departure for Denver. We finally located them strung out in the tallest branches and marveled they had not frozen or been captured by predators. They refused to walk in the snow, but finally flew down to rest under the branches of a giant spruce tree in the front yard.

poor cold guineas high in a tree . . . .

The plight of the guineas will take some time to resolve. For now, we are tossing them scratch grains to sustain them until they decide to move back indoors where a heat lamp will keep them warm.

a port in a storm . . . .

Our family in the wild varies from season to season. For now, a great horned owl watches our comings and goings from a branch high in the very spruce tree where the guineas are roosting at night. We believe a mating pair have been serenading us in the pre-dawn and early evening hours and we are hopeful they will build a nest close to the house so we can watch the development of their young. For now, we hope the owl and the guineas find room to share the sheltering branches of the spruce.

“these noisy, pesky guineas interrupted my nap!” . . . .

Mule deer circle the house and yard throughout the day, and we chopped ice on the pond for them to drink. Two beautiful four-point bucks paid us a visit and I hope they will return so I can photograph them. They browse on the sage, willow twigs, leaves and dried grasses in the creek bottom. They do not fear us, but slowly melt into the trees or sage, watching us with great brown eyes, ears extended, noses twitching to detect any change in our behavior as we walk along our path each day.This young doe is searching for a few sunflower seeds dropped from the bird feeders. She is standing right outside the bay window in our living room.

a yule log for winter solstice . . . .

We selected a large chunk of boxelder for our yule log and decorated it with sage, spruce branches, pine cones and cedar. The boxelder tree was planted in the family garden 50-odd years ago by my grandmother to provide a little shade and a respite from the hot sun. When a large limb fell under the weight of an early-season snow storm last September, we saved the stump for our annual winter solstice celebration.

bringing light to the longest, coldest night . . . .

We spent a few moments remembering Granny as she rested from her labors in the garden beneath the shade of the boxelder. The tree still stands where she planted it.

oh Christmas tree! . . . .

We chose a tall, skinny Black Hills spruce tree for a spot by the piano. Decorated with Scandinavian ornaments, it will spend 10 days indoors and then the rest of the winter in the garage. We will plant it in the spring among all the other former Christmas trees.

stockings will be hung . . . .

We finished our chores at the wood pile, splitting wood for the stack and some for the sled to be hauled to the house for the evening fire. It was good to contemplate the warmth of a crackling blaze, and we spent the evening addressing our Christmas cards and remembering for . . . .

. . . . .deep in December our hearts should remember and follow.

Merry Christmas from Dry Creek!

Robins in the Hot Tub

Posted on December 19, 2014 by bygeorge

“are we going? should we go? are you going? when shall we go?”

The heated water bowl has been busy with birds arriving for a drink, a quick bath and a little conversation. These Robins seem to be enjoying this little respite from the cold, although we were surprised to see them. Traditionally they migrate and we see them again in February, however a few have been sighted staying over for the winter in recent years.

The low temperature just a couple nights prior to their visit was -30 degrees and it stayed cold for an extended period. We subsequently have had two additional snow storms, high winds and below-zero temperatures on many nights. If the Robins persist, we will have to knit sweaters and boots for them!

Mister Coffee

Posted on December 12, 2014 by bygeorge

“Who moved the honey?”

This furtive looking fellow greeted me at the coffee pot one morning recently. He seemed unafraid and approached a jar of honey left on the counter, licking on the side of the jar for a droplet of sweet nectar. Some nerve! We have had a steady stream of mice lately as they seek a warm place to spend the winter. As cold as it has been, I guess I cannot blame them, but I’m not too crazy about sharing my kitchen with them. A trusty old mouse trap has been engaged to take care of the problem – wonder if this guy will fall for a little peanut butter snack?

The owls have been singing in the tree tops early in the morning, which is unusual. They usually return in January, but this year we noticed a pair in late October. We can only surmise that the abundance of rabbits, voles and mice this year has tempted them to return to this smorgasbord earlier than usual. We enjoy their serenade outside our bedroom window each morning at dawn and hope they spend the winter with us. Looks like there will be plenty of mice to keep them happy.

Too Many Guineas

Posted on December 9, 2014 by bygeorge

“Hello, world. Where’s Mom?” . . . .

We had a very prolific year with our guinea flock. And the hens did it all on their own, with no assistance from us. This group were lucky to be hatched inside one of the nesting boxes in the old chicken house. Two other batches were hatched “in the wild” hidden down in the creek bottom. We discovered a swarm of babies barely a day old running through the grass. Two Guinea moms had done the tag-team duty of sharing a nest and were they successful! We counted 16 tiny little fluff balls darting around and our attempts to catch them and bring them in to “safety” to be raised in the rabbit cage proved elusive. We did finally manage to gather up 14 of the keets from three separate batches and share them with a nearby ranch family who wanted to raise them.

“one, two, three–where is everyone else?” . . . .

From the moment they hatch, guinea babies are on the move and can dart through the grass like greased lightning. The hens go about their daily routine, traveling through the fields, the barnyard, up into the hills and beyond. The little ones are expected to keep up. They are so tiny they are largely invisible, moving along in a brown tide barely stirring the blades of grass. We watched from a distance, certain they would be gobbled up by predators. We noted how they were accepted into the entire flock and how they all traveled in a tight-knit group. When we introduced keets we raised separately from the flock the previous summer, the adults pecked at them and did not immediately accept them.

These baby guineas thrived in spite of our failed attempts to bring them in to safety. As they grew to become indistinguishable from the adults, it became apparent we had a problem. Too many guineas! With winter coming, we planned to move them into a smaller abode which would accommodate about a dozen total. We inquired whether the family who had previously taken the babies would like to have some adult birds. When they agreed, we were suddenly faced with two questions: 1) How would we catch them? and 2) What would we do with them once we caught them?

glorious guineas . . . .

I remembered helping my grandmother catch chickens that she planned to butcher. It was simply a matter of going with flashlights into the chicken house, selecting the birds she wanted, grabbing their legs and putting them in a gunny sack. I helped her with the butchering a couple of times, and quickly decided this was not my cup of tea. I had to hold their legs, lay them over a chopping block and she cut off their heads. I watched in horror as they spun around in a crazy dance, spurting blood, without their heads. But I digress. Catching the guineas would be easy–we would simply go into the chicken house– after dusk– with flashlights– grab some off the roost– put them in a wire cage we borrowed from neighbor Tom– and call the people who agreed to take them off our hands.

Guineas are another matter. They do not allow you to come into their house, after dark, with flashlights, and grab them off their roosts! They fly. Everywhere. Bouncing off the ceiling, the walls, the windows, off us! Running into corners, under the roosts, under the nesting boxes, everywhere out of reach, faster than we could move. Stirring up dust so thick you could not distinguish the birds flying at you, near you, away from you, behind you or over you. A tornado of dust whipped up by whirling dervishes, so dense you could not breathe! Gasping and choking, we were able to capture eight birds and place them in a jail of sorts to be taken away.

As we waited for the new owners to arrive, we went to wash up. The whole episode left me sad, and tears streaked the dirt on my face. I felt we had broken a trust with these wild creatures we invited to make a home with us. I remembered how excited we were the day we picked up a box of baby guineas at the post office, and the trials and tribulations we went through to raise them successfully. We were too successful! The whole episode was traumatic for us, knowing as we did that we had put the guinea fowl through a terribly frightening experience. Our only comfort was the knowledge that our guineas were going to a good home. It is our hope we gave away all our roosters!

Wisconsin Autumn (and other things)

Posted on December 3, 2014 by bygeorge

Wisconsin in autumn is a lovely sight. Heavily wooded with a variety of trees, the colors range from orange, yellow, red, gold, and magenta. One of our favorite areas to visit is the Kettle Moraine, where glaciers deposited massive rock outcroppings visible today along the farm fields, river valleys and hillsides. The topography is enhanced by dense woodlands, lush green fields of corn and grain, and lakes and rivers. The rural character of the countryside surrounding the Kettle is sustained by dairy farms, some with historic stone farmhouses, and most all with ubiquitous big red barns with hay mow. Black and white Holstein milk cows provide contrasting color to the green pastures.

The Osthoff Hotel opened in 1886 and became a destination for summer tourists from Chicago, St. Louis and Milwaukee. Situated on the shores of spring-fed Elkhart Lake, the hotel re-opened in 1995 as a condominium resort and quickly earned a four-star rating. Located in the small town of Elkhart Lake, pop. 1000, the resort is in a beautiful, quiet setting where “getting away from it all” takes on a whole new meaning. We walk the lakefront, the hillsides, and along the golf course, as well as strolling the neighborhoods of Victorian homes, restaurants and small shops.

what a backdrop for a game of tennis! . . . .

We have visited in summer and autumn (June and October); we hope to explore other seasonal amenities on a future visit. A German Christmas Market, beautiful holiday decorations throughout the resort and the countryside blanketed with snow have great appeal. Maybe even some ice skating!

Autumn colors in Wyoming consist of the yellows and golds of native willows, cottonwoods and aspens, and the season is short lived. An early September snow and cold spell had our leaves on the ground when we photographed this scene in October.

didn’t bring a fishing pole! . . . .

According to legend, the Potowotomi Indians first called Elhart Lake “Me-shay-way-o-deh-ni-bis” or Great Heart Lake for its shape resembling an elk’s heart. Carved out by glaciers, the lake is one of the deepest fresh water lakes in Wisconsin.

how can we create this at home? . . . .

A pond surrounded by gardens leads up from the lake shore to the hotel. The autumn colors are almost as beautiful as the gardens in June.

uh . . . .I think I can see our room . . . .

We have explored a variety of restaurants in Elkhart Lake and our latest find, The Black Pig, was over the top. Naturally, most of the best menu items were pork (as in pig). One wall of the dining room was a backdrop for a famous quote by Winston Churchill, which goes something like this: “A cat will look down on you; a dog will look up to you, but a pig will look you in the eye and be your equal!” The bar was friendly, the food delicious and we left with a new appreciation for “the pig.”

crimson climbers . . . .

This stone building was covered with autumn color in downtown Elkhart Lake.

Farms along the open road . . . .

“Come in to my garden” . . . .

This creepy spider and assortment of pals is the entrance to Jurustic Park located in Marshfield, Wisconsin. It claims to be a “display of many of the extinct creatures that inhabited the large McMillan Marsh near Marshfield during the Iron Age.”

“where’s lunch?” . . . .

With tongue in cheek, creator Clyde Wynia has created an endless variety of rusted iron creatures welded from junkyard metal. His imagination knows no bounds.

a hedgehog perhaps? . . . .

Nah, it’s a porkypine. Can’t you read the sign?

“Got a light?” . . . .

Marshfield is about a three-hour drive west from Elkhart Lake, and seems otherworldly. I could not begin to capture all the creatures at Jurustic Park.

a tortoise, of all things . . . .

Clyde gave us a personal, guided tour and said turtles are one of his favorite creatures.

“let’s get some action!” . . . .

Clyde gives this feminine form a kick to get her to shimmy and shake. He took up welding after retirement and let his imagination run wild.

a hang-dog expression? . . . .

Hard to say what life form is draped over the back of this hound, or lurks in his abdomen. It takes careful scrutiny to capture all the surprises.

a use for all my old CD’s . . . .

A stunning array of fish scales made from CD’s!

creature from middle earth . . . .

a new home . . . .

Nearing completion, this lovely new home was being readied for a move-in date a couple of days after we departed.

on the road again . . . .

Miles and miles of roadside colors greet us on our return to Elkhart Lake. We spent another evening at Osthoff and drove to Madison next day to catch a plane. Farewell to Wisconsin, we’ll be back!

Wild Wyoming Woman

the news from Dry Creek . . .

Monthly Archives: December 2014