Spring Afternoon, Winter Morning

Woke at 5:30 a.m. to clomping noises on the roof. It’s still dark. Maybe the roofers, who were said to be coming to work on the cabin this week, begin early, I thought; some workers do. But I heard no voices. I know roofers talk, unless one of the roofers was out last night with another roofer. But no voices. Got up. Big, thick, wet snow, on the border of frozen mix. No trucks in front of my house. My Hughesnet won’t work. I tinker with the modem and router. It occurs to me how good I am at this. But no dice. Through the Verizon phone connection I see the weather radar. Yes, a big snowy mess, eastern Missouri style—frozen mix burying the crocuses.

At full light, I suit up, go outside, feed the birds, and see good-sized branches fallen everywhere, from the oaks and even from the little redbud, and they’re still breaking under the weight of continuing snow.

The old redwood picnic table, over 15 years repeatedly repaired and C-clamped, which I’d petted the other day and thanked for staying upright all winter, had finally given up the ghost. Moment of silence (thump, plop). I broom the slush off the HughesNet dish. More branches breaking. I drag the largest tree limbs out of the road. Thump. Thud. They’re still falling. I add my tracks in the snow to a deer's. Then a branch whomps on and rolls off my roof. It occurs to me that a random limb might fall and crush not only my roof (glad the roofers are scheduled) but my head, and I’d better go inside until all the thumping stopped. I’m shy of it because during yesterday’s high winds, the trash-can lid flew up and gouged my nose. It’s 32 degrees exactly. But in Missouri, we never say we've seen the last of the snow until April is over.

Poultry in Motion

In the road I saw, in last night's rapidly melting snow:

and decided I'd follow the track back to its source. The wild turkey had crossed a frozen creek, a little tentatively. . .

and before that, had stepped over this log. The melting snow made the tracks more difficult to trace, but they led to a known game trail. The turkey had crossed paths with a rabbit:

and the tracks ended in the canopied woods, where the bird had scratched up leaf litter not once but twice, seeking food. And before that it probably spent the snowy, sleety night in a tree. Breeding starts very soon.

Tracks by the Creek

Whose tracks are these in the white silica sand by the creek? Hint: It's a bird people traditionally like eating today. But these birds are running free and wild on the Divine property, thanks be.

Who Goes There?

I took a beautiful Sunday slog down LaBarque creek when the water was low, and along the creek edges and wet sand bars I saw evidence of wildlife traffic, come to the creek for a drink. Traces of ice were in the water that had been left in shadow; I broke it up like plate glass and pushed it downstream so more creatures could come to the creek edge and drink. What we have here  is raccoon tracks stylized in wet sand and a three-toed footprint of a very large and heavy bird (each toe the length of my ring finger). Wondered what it was -- the LaBarque hosts herons and egrets,  but it looks most like the track of a turkey. If it had been a heron the footprint would have had a less splayed, more slender profile and have a lighter fourth toeprint in back. So it could be an egret, but the fact is we've got more turkeys. Actually we are fortunate to have plenty of both.

At the Alpaca Farm

In Allenton an alpaca farm was open for visiting this weekend. Curious, I went, and in and around the barn were 20 sweet-tempered alpacas wondering what all the fuss was about. The rancher explained that they live about 15 years, don't bite (they can't; only one of their jaws has teeth) and should never be washed; it ruins their wool, shorn every spring and made into sweaters, mittens, hats, yarn, blankets, socks, and toy alpacas. This farm is named Adelman's Alpaca Dream, because the father of the family always wanted such a farm but died before creating one; the mother and son then fulfilled the father's dream, establishing the farm in 2006.

They will also sell you an alpaca or board the ones you have.

Black and White

Black and white rule the country right now -- especially because sunshine here has been rare -- so the pink nose and elegant toes of this young lady caught my eye as she feasted on fallen birdseed and cracked corn. (Thought it would attract turkeys! Not yet!) Unusual to see an opossum in daylight. But free food, early in the evening, changes everything. Beautiful fur! She's a marsupial, and I wonder if she's looking for a boyfriend right now.

Letter in the Snow

Before holing up for a winter night I take the bird feeder and suet cage onto the porch, or else I'll be woken up later hearing fuss and turn up the floodlamp on an obese raccoon hanging upside down from the wire grabbin' at the suet cage, or waddling off with it...

And the porch door's warped, so after I shut it from the inside I have to go outside and kick it firmly closed (can you say Green Acres?) and I happened to look down...

(Heard a joke today. What's the difference between an introverted engineer and an extroverted engineer? The introverted engineer looks down at his feet. The extroverted engineer looks down at your feet...)

. . . and saw bunny tracks, and my heart was filled with delight. I love their "Y"-shaped track. Bunnies used to own this place but numbers have been down in recent years. So happy to see evidence of my otherwise invisible, secretive little friends. P.S. Rabbits are not rodents. They are members of the deer family.