A Touch of Spring

Look—I got another bird card from Jim Arthur, whose cards I've shared before. (The last one was an owl—five life points if you remember.) The little JPEG squeezes all the subtle colors out of it—the print is much prettier. Jim's cards always remind me that while I don't love online digital pictures particularly, even though they comprise 99% of the pictures I see, I love inkjet prints made from digital files. Well, when they're well made. Which reminds me, I have some more reader prints here sent in for critique—we're going to get back to that this year.

I have some catching up to do this coming week! I made myself too scarce last week. I spent a lot of time working on my other writing projects. I hope everybody realizes I'm not really retired. That was just a joke.

May I just say that I've definitely hit upon the hardest part about trying to write a memoir: you have to relive it all again. It dredges up a lot of old muck that might be better left settled on the bottom of your clean-running river. It's one thing if you're Keith Richard and have enjoyed your life. It's something else when things didn't go so well. (Keef gives the lie to the old joke that if you remember the '60s you weren't there. He was there and he remembers everything.)

We had a number of dustings of snow here in the Finger Lakes in February, and one reason I like them is that I have a deck and a wooden walk that leads to the barn, and in new snow there's a report of the animals that used the walk during the night. I've seen the tracks of housecats and coyotes (not simultaneously!), raccoons, rabbits (under my deck is a rabbit hotel), gophers (ditto, under the small shed at the edge of the property), possums, skunks, fox, and a strange track that I associate with a mysterious black catlike animal the size of small dog that I've seen from a distance, running, a few times. [UPDATE: A fisher! See Geoff's comment, below.]

So the other morning, deer tracks! For the first time ever. Small ones. That amazed me. I've never seen a deer down here so close to the lake; there are plenty of them around and you see them all the time (my friend Mike, who "drives big truck" as he puts it, is expert at spotting them from surprisingly far away—it's great to have him spotting on an after-dark drive back from a meeting) but I'm told they tend not to like to get themselves hemmed in between the two-lane highway and the lake.

Today is our first springlike day, 69°F, sunny, and windy. People are strolling by dressed in summer clothes and the ground is still partly covered with snow and ice. The three days we're in the middle of will get rid of much of it. We're in the days when winter eases its grip.

                                                       ...Winter is winter,
Gnawing the Tyrrhene cliffs with the sea’s tooth.

—Horace, translated by E. Pound

The freeze/thaw cycles have raised a little havoc; I expect to lose some grass. Our long, narrow lake freezes most readily at the northern end, where it's shallow, and in recent days a vast panel of ice the size of many World Football (soccer) fields (do you call them fields?) detached from the frozen end and came drifting down the lake. Floating chunks of ice anywhere from the size of a suitcase to the size of a tennis court have jammed up along the shoreline, causing damage here and there. Some people have "bubblers" that roil the surface of the water and keep the areas around their docks from freezing, but I would never do that. In the wintertime the ducks and geese congregate by the hundreds in the open water around a bubbler. All that concentrated bird poop can't be sanitary, if you ask me. 

Spring reminds me that when I taught photography, way back in olden times, the gang darkroom on the fourth floor of the building that housed the art department would clear out on days like this. Enlargers that were in high demand all winter were suddenly deserted. Down below, the grass of the Quad would be sprinkled with kids, lying around, talking, reading, throwing frisbees, chasing each other, hanging out. Among them were the students who would parade their excuses past me at their next class, explaining why they didn't have their prints made. Like I couldn't see why.

The only other thing I have to report was two very cold nights recently when the air was uncannily clear and the stars in the otherwise black sky seemed to glitter. I could wish I could see them a little better; I have some astigmatism, which gives me a bit of a false report. But that's without glasses, so who would complain? I hope you can see stars in the night sky, where you are.

Mike

Book of Interest this Week

Gregory Crewdson: Alone Street. "Filmic" seems the best single adjective to describe Gregory Crewdson's work; his directed and carefully managed tableau are the still photography version of scenes in movies. As such they are hyper-real; more beautiful than life and more poetic, and more concerted. They're also very easy to enjoy and a pleasure to look at.

This book link is a portal to Amazon.

Today at B&H Photo

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Geoff Wittig: "That black cat-like animal is likely a fisher. They're a large weasel that has made a comeback here in the Finger Lakes after being largely extirpated by trappers 100 years ago. We've seen one on our trail camera several times. They have a (mostly) undeserved reputation for killing pets, though they are pretty ferocious, apparently the only predator that will regularly kill a porcupine. They're extremely wary of human beings and eat mostly rodents, rabbits and the like."

Mike replies: Geoff, thank you! That solves a mystery. It fits what I saw perfectly—I saw one running against the snow of my hillside last winter. I've asked several locals about it and hadn't come up with a satisfactory identification because I just didn't get that good a look. All I knew for sure was that it wasn't any animal I was familiar with.  And the tracks I've found that I couldn't identify definitely match the track of the fisher. Thanks!

robert mckeen: "Lovely postcard, is it a hummingbird? Now to football or footie, soccer, fields are called pitches and can vary in size within certain boundaries. The largest in the Premier League is Brighton 105 x 69 metres, smallest is Wolverhampton at 100 x 64 metres. Liverpool's is 101 x 68 metres."

Comments

[robert mckeen]

Lovely postcard, is it a humming bird?
Now to football or footie, soccer, fields are called pitches and can vary in size within certain boundaries.
The largest in the Premier League is Brighton 105 x 69 Metres smallest is Wolverhampton 100x 64 Metres.
Liverpool's is 101 x 68 Metres

[ASW]

Hi Mike.
Your mystery animal might be a fisher, which is a mustelid (think weasel) that is widespread in northern North America but somewhat cryptic in behavior and habitat (closed canopy forest).
I've seen them while hiking in the eastern Finger Lakes (SW of Syracuse) so they're likely around your neighborhood as well.

[darlene]

It sure is a pleasure when the weather breaks. For two weeks now, my windows are open and the paddle fans spin on low sending a cool breeze throughout the house. At the screen door my kitties hang out, listening to the chirping birds. It is in the low 80s here (north Florida), and I am enjoying it! Glad to hear your writing is coming along, Mike.

[Don Craig]

Your black catlike animal is probably a fisher, or sometimes fisher cat, which is a big (really) weasel capable of catching a squirrel in a tree, and has some nasty attacking habits which permit it to prey on porcupines. They are getting fairly common in the east (again), and I had one a few nights ago trying to get at the bunny under my front porch. The bunny escaped (that night, anyway), the fisher spent a few seconds categorizing me as either prey or threat, then loped off, weasel-style.

[Thank Don, I think you're correct. Geoff says they've been making a comeback here and they fit the description. I love your phrase, "the fisher spent a few seconds categorizing me as either prey or threat"--wish I'd written that! --Mike]

[Not THAT Ross Cameron]

Not much clear sky in some parts of Australia.
The eastern side has had an Australian East Coast Low (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_east_coast_low) floating around, and around, and still going around, dumping lots of rain and causing flooding and general destruction in it’s erratic path.
We’re ready for some days with that big orangey ball of fire in the sky to just dry out.
I’m living vicariously through TOP global head-quarters.

[Tom Burke]

Football "pitches" would be the usual terminology, together with the term "field of play" (the pitch will be larger than the field of play, of course).

Spring: not many signs thereof here in N England; temperatures are still around 6° or 7° C here today, or about 42° F, I think. The snowdrops are just coming to an end, the crocuses are presently out, and the daffodils have appeared but not yet bloomed. No leaves on the trees yet. But I saw the first (bumble)bee of the year yesterday; it was sunny, and it was collecting pollen from a winter heather bush that we have; and this morning for the first time this year we were woken by the *&$%! dawn chorus - sunrise was at 6:41 today.

Last week my wife and I were in Dubai. That's an altogether strange place, but at this time of year it's delightful - temperatures (last week) between 25° and 30° C, and bone-dry (or so it felt): humidity levels about 40%. Delightful. I'd hate to be there in mid-summer, however: 45° C or higher, and 80-85% humidity.

[Rob L.]

You write a lot of things that bring a smile, and then you write things that make me smile, and a well-needed treat for a harried mind. Thanks for the reminder of all the wonder that's there, and that's coming.

[John Ironside]

In my working life, I once had the opportunity to drive on the test tracks that are made each winter on a lake near Arjepløg in Northern Sweden for the European car makers and their major suppliers to test and refine anti-skid systems, etc. I was there in March; apparently during the thaw the thickened ring-shaped tracks free themselves and drift away, like kilometre sized mint sweets. It must be quite a sight.

[Earl Dunbar]

There is a small town here just next to Victor, NY, named Fishers. I would be surprised if there are any fishers still roaming there, but one can hope

[Ned Bunnell]

“I have some more reader prints here sent in for critique—we're going to get back to that this year.”

Hey Mike, just a friendly reminder that you closed entries to the latest Baker’s Dozen a month ago. You might want to add this to your “to do list” post-it-note on the fridge:)