Author: turndoozie

April
Fools Day, the day for silly jokes. Like Indiana legislators, or my birth 61
years ago. One of those practical jokes turned out OK. At least I wouldn’t try
to change the value of Pi. Or pass hate legislation.

Weather-wise,
today was the nicest day of the year to date. To celebrate we did a quick
noontime birding trip to a local lake. Not the best time to go, but I got wood
duck, ring-necked duck, pied-billed grebe, horned grebe, and tree swallow. Both
Lise and I got American wigeon. That brings me up to 100 and Lise to 111 species
for the year.

The
weather was nice enough to let Her Highness outside for a couple hours too. She
mostly basked in the sun, but then she found her usual digging place and
started her annual burrowing routine. This is nice because we can put her
outside for a couple hours and she won’t wander. She’ll just content herself
trying to get to China.

Queen of all she surveys.

Unfortunately,
there was a dark side to the day too. Fat Boy, that furry tsunami of fat called
a ground hog, has arisen from his slumber. Like a zombie coming back from the
dead. And he’s hungry. This, my friend, is no joke. It’s is a dark day for
gardeners everywhere. Sure he looks cute, but you can kiss any home grown
produce goodbye. I wonder what size block of scrapple I could turn him into.

He has risen.

Boy am I hungry.

Whatcha got to eat over there Ed?

It’s been a traveling week for the Schools family. Lise and I were down in Indiana at Turkey Run State Park for a couple days. I came back here for some work things while Lise and the rest of clan Eichhorn went down to Spring Mill State Park for a couple days. Then Friday night Molly and I drove to South Bend for a Saturday water polo tournament at Notre Dame.

On the offense. 

More offense.

The big D.

More D.

So it was an Indiana centric kind of week. While Indiana politicians are showing the world what ignorant and bigoted politicians are really good at doing. Like enacting hate legislation. There’s a saying in Georgia that goes something like, “if it wasn’t for Atlanta we’d be Alabama.” In Alabama they say, “at least we aren’t as bad as Mississippi.” I think Mike Pence and his idiot Republicans just gave the Midwest their Mississippi.  Now I know what they mean when they say, “Indiana – where our future is your nostalgia.” At least Pence helped me make one decision. Until those mental midgets enacted their hate legislation a certain Southern Indiana college town was on the retirement list. I don’t think so anymore. I’ll take my money elsewhere.

On a brighter note, things are starting to pick up birding wise. According to reports, waterfowl migration is in full swing. Lise did a conference field trip that shot her up to 110 species for the year.  I’m still down at a measly 94. The weather hasn’t been stellar but it is slowly getting nicer. At least it doesn’t hurt as much to go outside.

Fido can tell the days are getting longer. She seems to have come out of her winter lethargy and now runs laps around the house. She doesn’t seem to understand that even though the sun is out, the air temperature is still too cold for an organism that doesn’t produce its own heat. I’ve let her out in the yard a couple times but she feels like a popsicle when I bring her in. But at least now we have some hope for nicer days.

Longing for the great outdoors.

Not too much to report. Sunday Lise and I went down to Turkey Run State Park in Indiana. Lise had a conference and I tagged along for fun. It was gray and cold with some rain and sleet. Not the best for photography but at least I was getting out.

Turkey Run is a beautiful place. Or I should say it once was. It contains steep sided sandstone ravines with crevices and patterns eroded into the rock. Thanks to micro climate effects, the cool ravines are home to trees, ferns, mosses and lichens usually found way north of there. Like up in Northern Michigan north.

The Punch Bowl.

In Rocky Hollow.

In Rocky Hollow.

Reflecting sycamores.

Cliffs.

Cliffs.

Patterns.

As beautiful as the park is, it is also fragile and wasted on Hoosiers. The place is overrun by unappreciative idiots that can’t seem to read signs. The main ravine, supposedly a State dedicated Nature Preserve, has become a trampled mud pit. Apparently empty cans and bottles are just too heavy to carry out. And there is zero agency presence in a fragile nature preserve when the place is packed with people. On one trail we saw a very large, brand spanking new graffiti carved into a beech tree. I didn’t think anyone did that anymore but I forgot about Indiana. It had to take at least an hour to do it, and might not have happened if there was a visible agency presence. I’ve been other places that limit the number of people allowed in sensitive places and ban the use of disposable cans and bottles. Maybe it’s time for Indiana State Parks to really take care of what they are supposed to be stewarding. I guess that could be expecting a lot in a state that elected a legislature that voted to change the value of Pi. That happened a long time ago, but recent Indiana legislatures and governors haven’t demonstrated any improvement on the intellectual front.

On the up side, it was fun to see some old friends at the conference. I had to head back to Lansing but Lise is staying for the whole conference. Including a birding trip Goose Pond where rumor has it she got a Ross’s goose. Go figure. At least I did see a barred owl in the park.

Happy St. Pat’s day (Lá Fhéile Pádraig or Feast of Patrick).

Saint Patrick is that nice fellow that just couldn’t leave a bunch of happy heathens alone. Some think Ireland may have been better off un-Christianized. Stories go that we celebrate St. Pat on his death but nobody can actually say when he died. Record keeping in 500 AD Ireland wasn’t all that good. In fact there is one theory that St. Patrick actually represents two different men. Which may be the reasoning behind the traditional Chicago voting slogan of; once isn’t enough, so vote early and vote often. Apparently record keeping in Chicago hasn’t changed much since 500 AD.

But, for whatever reason, we celebrate on March 17. St. Pat’s day is celebrated around the world. Considering the Irish diaspora I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Something like 25% of the U.S. population claims Irish ancestry. St. Pat’s Day is a public holiday on the Island of Montserrat. At MSU it appears that everyone celebrates their heritage with green beer followed by green vomit. My favorite St. Pat’s Day parade is only a hundred yards long and goes between the two pubs in Dripsey, Cork.

Back in the birding world, we finally got a screech owl. I think it’s been two years since I’ve seen or heard one. The owl was located at Lincoln Brick Park over in Grand Ledge. The park is the site of an old brick mill located on the Grand River.

Brick works at Lincoln Brick Park.

Brick works at Lincoln Brick Park.

Brick works at Lincoln Brick Park.

We had some rough directions to a tree with a hole the owl roosts in; “When you come to an elevated log (one end is about sitting height) perhaps a distance of 75-100 yards from where you first hit the ravine. From there go a bit farther and look mostly NNE across the ravine. I would guess that the distance from the bluff where you have the best view to the hole is about 75 yards. There are many holes in trees in the area. So good luck.”

There were many holes, easy to see as dark spots in the gray beech tree trunks. Our first time through Lise staked out a hole saying, “That’s a perfect screech owl hole.” We didn’t see the owl so we visited the brick works. When we went back we couldn’t even find the hole. Then Lise figured out, the owl must be sitting in it, that’s why we couldn’t find the hole. Sure enough, we changed our search engines to look for a red spot in the tree trunks and Lise found it right away.

The screech owl tree with an owl in the hole.

A highly magnified screech owl.

Happy Pi day. Today, at exactly 26 minutes and 53.59 seconds after 9:00 we will have the first 10 digits of Pi. 3.14159265359. Is that worth celebrating or what? Time to take off our clothes and run around naked. Maybe sacrifice a goat or something. And it happens twice today for this part of the world using a 12 hour clock. Double the fun.

Well I survived the colonoscopy. Maybe not my dignity but most of me made it intact through the procedure. As Molly Ivins once said, “I’ve had blind dates better than that.” They gave me some really neat pictures but in the interest of good taste I’m not going to post them. I may send copies to my siblings in their Christmas cards this year.

Colon photos withheld in the interest of good taste.

After my last diatribe about the procedure I was about to do, Aunt Sue sent a message saying, “Google Dave Barry and colonoscopy.” I started laughing with just the word combination. The story is very funny, right on target, and worth reading.

While the procedure is, for lack of a better term, a pain in the rear, it’s an important screening tool. I came out clean and only need to go back in ten years. I overheard the person next to me get some less than good news and told to reschedule much sooner. Someone else was led with family members into the private consultation room. You know that couldn’t be good.

After the procedure we went up to Maple River to find a great-horned owl nest that supposedly has an owl on it. We found the nest, which wasn’t easy to do, but the owl never showed itself. While we were there we had two harbingers of spring, a killdeer and red-winged blackbirds. Both are very common here but it was really nice to see the first of the year. Snow in May is not out of the question but you know it’s going to get nicer. May have dragonflies in about six weeks. And by then I should be able to sit down.

Happy Birthday Lindsay!!!!!!!!!

We finally got a weather reprieve. Yesterday was in the high
30s and today got into the 40s. Plus we had sunlight. Someone reported greater
scaup on the Grand River so we went chasing them. Brought us both up to 88
species for the year. Today we chased some reported red-shouldered hawks with no
luck. But we did get out for a pleasurable hike at a local park. It’s really
nice when it doesn’t physically hurt to be outside. I’m sure there’s more nasty
stuff to come but at least now we have some hope.

Ice on the Red Cedar. I just can’t seem to do good ice pictures.

Winter sycamore. I love sycamores in the winter, with clear blue skies and low angle light on them.

Speaking of nasty stuff, a couple weeks ago I had my first
physical since turning 60. Physicals are kind of like telling your mechanic to
see he can find anything wrong with your car. If you look hard enough, you can find
something wrong. As usual, my blood work had some wacky numbers. Some things
too high, some things too low… I figure the too high things and the too low
things kind of average out to about normal. But, since I have now passed
another decadal birthday, it’s time for that once a decade ultimate invasion of
privacy, the colonoscopy. Known affectionately as, the butt cam. Talk about
digging deep to look for problems. I’m thinking of swallowing a little plastic alien
baby toy before the procedure. Let them find something that wasn’t covered in
medical school.

The procedure itself isn’t all that horrible since you’re in
a chemically induced state of unconsciousness. It’s the prep that’s nasty. Despite
stunning advances in imaging technology the past couple decades, you still need
an empty colon. Which is accomplished by a Gandhi diet followed with a case of self-induced
dysentery. Talk about nasty. At least I
don’t have to watch Fox News at the same time. I’d have stuff coming out both
ends.

When I picked up the prescription, the pharmacy checkout
lady looked in the bag and said, “Oh, you got the good stuff.” Which implies,
of course, that there is some not good stuff. Can’t imagine what that looks like.
Maybe some kind of plunger? Or they make a liver flavored liquid? Or make you
listen to Barry Manilow while taking it?

The stuff I have to drink is called SUPREP. How imaginative
is that. You’d think their marketing guys could come with something snazzier
than SUPREP. Like; Colon Cleaner, Total Flush, Straight Flush, Ballast Blower, Clean
Sweep, Guts be Gone, Bowel Bomb…. The possibilities are endless. They could do
a batch especially for Prince Charles and call it Royal Flush. He looks like he
would actually enjoy a colonoscopy. Butt anyway; I am just sooooo looking forward
to this little exercise.

Guess where I was today? I got to ride a Coast Guard ice breaker under the Mackinaw Bridge. A co-worker is a Chief in the Coast Guard
Reserve. Each year they try to arrange what they term an “icebreaker cruise” to
familiarize supervisors with what the Reserves and the National Guard do as
part of their service. In this case it was a true icebreaker cruise. We went on
the USS Hollyhock, through the Mackinaw Straits and under the Mackinaw Bridge.

The Hollyhock is actually a buoy tender with a secondary
function of ice breaking. When we went out is was snowing, windy, and bitter
cold. Almost white out conditions. The forecastle (pronounced fo’c’s’le), where
the anchor chains are stowed, is open to the weather. I and my fellow civilian icebreaker
cruisers would step out there to take pictures and go back in to warm up. Meanwhile, there were two crew
that had to be out there the whole time. In case of an emergency, they had to
use a sledge hammer to knock out a chock and release the anchor chain. Our tour
guide was the Deck Officer. Through the wind and snow I heard him quizzing them
on their responsibilities. The Deck Officer was an Ensign not long out of the
academy and looked about 25 years old. Both crew looked to be about 18 or 19
and one was a female. A ton more responsibility than most people their ages.
From the warmth of my toasty house, while drinking a shot of rum, I salute you.
Thanks for being there.

Iced-in Mackinaw Straits

Park bench for viewing the iced in Mackinaw Straits.

The Hollyhock in port.

Backing out of port.

Leaving port.

Snow on covered deck.

Looking aft from the forecastle.

Forecastle watch. Just doing their job.

The bridge.

The bridge.

The bridge.

The Mighty Mac through the snow.

Going under the Might Mac.

Going under the Mighty Mac.

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When it’s cold and nasty and you can’t afford a tropical
vacation, what do you do? Either screw with the lizard or head to the Greater
Lansing Orchid Society 32^nd annual orchid show. The lizard was in a
grumpy mood so we chose the orchid show.

I have to admit that a few of my stereotypes were blown
away. I assumed that there would be a few orchid nuts sitting around talking
about the appropriate soil pH to grow ram’s head orchid. There were a bunch of
people there comprising just about every size, shape, color, age, or
orientation you could think of.

I can see the fascination with orchids. Kind of like
dragonflies. Amazing variety of colors shapes. Some are common and can be found
just about anywhere. Some can only be found in rare conditions. And they are
very photogenic. In color or black and white. When I was there we couldn’t use
flash or tripods. Tomorrow they have a photography time but we have other plans
so I had to make do with what I could. I may have to take up orchid growing so
I have some easy subjects.