tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-291785232024-03-05T05:19:33.537-05:00Mohican Lake DiariesThe First of the Mohicans (Mohican Lake blogs, that is)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-19813531062858726042008-10-16T18:04:00.021-04:002008-10-18T12:20:22.488-04:00Heron Update<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19xGlZbYJxejavpXo8dG3Qr4McubzDZye8FyE2aCw1qdbC6IZozbtfRyWjEHDYewoVYqNdbpJ14_spxYY5cHAnudMZtjd8GGJDhJBm4plKC4c5v9NOh3o69mheUQqZAh3rKFU/s1600-h/P1080349.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19xGlZbYJxejavpXo8dG3Qr4McubzDZye8FyE2aCw1qdbC6IZozbtfRyWjEHDYewoVYqNdbpJ14_spxYY5cHAnudMZtjd8GGJDhJBm4plKC4c5v9NOh3o69mheUQqZAh3rKFU/s400/P1080349.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257925158346526146" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The herons have been particularly active in 2008. My guess is that there are more herons on the lake this year than in other years (see previous post).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56E3kfM9Gb2P5P1JdGtS4rRgLxQIYJAB52zwlFLDBZvcI_u_NyW3kz10w-a238R3noPGkXKEmRNMuwuci4adiG4fV_002y4aOACffmSRtg9OegkGkG8HOIeGbjJk7KjMYd7zh/s1600-h/P1080351.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi56E3kfM9Gb2P5P1JdGtS4rRgLxQIYJAB52zwlFLDBZvcI_u_NyW3kz10w-a238R3noPGkXKEmRNMuwuci4adiG4fV_002y4aOACffmSRtg9OegkGkG8HOIeGbjJk7KjMYd7zh/s400/P1080351.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257926550827515858" /></a><br /><br /><br />During the last month, I've twice been privy to blue heron fish feasts. Attached is a sequence of pictures followed by a video documenting the two incidents. In the first, the heron swallows a sizable crappie (or calico bass), and follows it up with a lake water chaser. The pictures were taken while sitting in a plastic Adirondack chair in the front yard.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KJQG3PykB7k&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KJQG3PykB7k&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />The second incident occurred this morning. These pictures, including the video, were taken from my living room.<br /><br />As the picture window curtains parted, a heron flew to a mat of weeds about 10 feet off shore with what was easily identifiable with the naked eye as a pickerel. The telephoto lens confirms the size.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ26kKbQEREetnhgmIJtRHFH0tjS7QZPn0R1NjejSM8F3Fo9YpJHkgsOJRaUNtDzkdqgCPXuNYtn5ipdmFmZQYay_qbYfaf1xgOTO_2TUNMNBz9paDnPCL7TDugJufNWs8FNFX/s1600-h/P1080860.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ26kKbQEREetnhgmIJtRHFH0tjS7QZPn0R1NjejSM8F3Fo9YpJHkgsOJRaUNtDzkdqgCPXuNYtn5ipdmFmZQYay_qbYfaf1xgOTO_2TUNMNBz9paDnPCL7TDugJufNWs8FNFX/s400/P1080860.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257928454006493682" /></a><br /><br /><br />It was one big fish, an estimated 12-14 inches, gap mouthed and showing rows of sharp teeth. It took the heron at least 15 minutes to subdue it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYRgGG8XbnzgxiqaCONr4m1Cj8i65B0Ek2EdBs2NB4if2MJeC8cjcrS65WBXNAkdZKIK4KvmG1IDTNUESS8SdHE3QPmQC__MMOAGwTfdbZEnI-OYhLCYCXqNom6qIQTPOIDDC/s1600-h/P1080856.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYRgGG8XbnzgxiqaCONr4m1Cj8i65B0Ek2EdBs2NB4if2MJeC8cjcrS65WBXNAkdZKIK4KvmG1IDTNUESS8SdHE3QPmQC__MMOAGwTfdbZEnI-OYhLCYCXqNom6qIQTPOIDDC/s400/P1080856.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257928857014616498" /></a><br /><br />A full memory card prevented the filming of the final gulp. After the drama, I brewed my coffee and chowed down on oat bran cereal.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3OQBS3VEZRs&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3OQBS3VEZRs&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-86971062560702511012008-08-17T19:24:00.008-04:002008-08-17T20:49:01.590-04:00Beautiful Elegant Honking Predator<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpHnymlRCzXf0EPVEQX7a4GczoIVcjGagiW08aX5xNlWYa413D5hQHKTC4udAKouo0vgQtI4CUs53tfhziFyHGvpl863ccqWfg8UO0ch1m7DN1RQ18v8oLjKZkzvf5eiYPtv7/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXpHnymlRCzXf0EPVEQX7a4GczoIVcjGagiW08aX5xNlWYa413D5hQHKTC4udAKouo0vgQtI4CUs53tfhziFyHGvpl863ccqWfg8UO0ch1m7DN1RQ18v8oLjKZkzvf5eiYPtv7/s400/untitled.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235638600771461650" /></a><br />No question that at first glance the Great Blue Heron seems an elegant bird, a graceful flapper, a stately stander. But when it opens its trap and emits a guttural honk as if its sinuses were plugged, you can’t help but be jarred.<br /><br />This same thing of beauty is a relentless and ruthless hunter that will stand still until a fish, instinctively trying to hide, seeks the heron’s silhouette of shade. Then – whap – the bird strikes and, if successful, shakes the fight out its prey before gulping it down its gullet whole.<br /><br />Put both these incongruities together – the beautiful elegant honking predator – and you gain a glimpse into the cove’s ongoing territorial squabble between two herons, one larger than the other, battling over feeding rights to the cove.<br /><br />I’ve been noticing the smaller bird chased away on several occasions this summer, but, one late afternoon this week, the level of drama heightened when the smaller of the two floated in, landing on a clump of lilies in front of my cottage, giving me a front-row seat.<br /><br />A minute later, the larger heron, starting its flight from the other side of the lake, gracefully flapped in, and began its dry-cough honking as it approached the intruder. The smaller heron flew away, and the larger heron, instead of staying to fish, returned on the same flight path across the lake, having successfully protected, from more than a quarter mile away, its feeding ground.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-56284071944189382442008-04-17T23:10:00.008-04:002008-04-18T13:04:15.743-04:00Jeepers PeepersSure sign of spring, the mating call of the peeper, a tiny frog with a piercing voice. Heard in wetlands from one end of New York State to the other, and many other states, reportedly. Check out Wikipedia, if you really must know more: <a href="http://">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spring_Peeper</a><br /><br />Can remember a spring ride taken last year along route 17 from Sullivan to Chautauqua Counties. Could even hear their piercing croaks from the car, zipping along at 60 miles an hour, windows rolled down. <br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/t-I5UZ3mbjM"> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/t-I5UZ3mbjM" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"></embed> </object><br /><br />Amazing creatures. Saw one once, very tiny. My meditative ear locked on to the lilliputian perpetrator a couple of feet away, and let the music bore into my head. It does to the ears what a momentary glance to the sun does to the eyes, temporarily blunting the sense. <br /><br />This Youtube doesn't do the sound justice. It's taken 10 feet from the lake's edge. Gives an idea, however.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-74962339911889514752008-04-10T23:07:00.005-04:002008-12-09T11:13:06.739-05:00Mohican Lake BirdsongsIn the city, an ambulance or a car alarm can’t disrupt my sleep cycle, but in the country, the distant mating squawk of a redwing blackbird minutes before sunrise jolts me conscious. Couldn’t fight it, brewed coffee, stumbled outside, set up the camera.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzJ1kV44AzfsK9kJI3EQmjFZHmo3VvuRjhoHLAnkB_0BXGRYoAC-FFMfsCs8z1iU2Vjig2lVbFSXgfo2zJ5smU7EbxWWnWQ72QKDvXaHGmACivKtPidPvwiiyPCn9O97flgiq/s1600-h/April+008.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOzJ1kV44AzfsK9kJI3EQmjFZHmo3VvuRjhoHLAnkB_0BXGRYoAC-FFMfsCs8z1iU2Vjig2lVbFSXgfo2zJ5smU7EbxWWnWQ72QKDvXaHGmACivKtPidPvwiiyPCn9O97flgiq/s400/April+008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187821553418347266" /></a><br /><br />Redwing blackbird uses every fiber of its being to produce its full-throated song.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZnbykE6rgXE"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZnbykE6rgXE" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br />Listen carefully and you can identify the songs of the tufted titmouse, chickadee, morning dove, Canada goose, and the drilling of a woodpecker. Note also the lone goose. Am I a lone goose?<br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ekAdh09qon8"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ekAdh09qon8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-44463156208781925062008-04-10T22:56:00.002-04:002008-12-09T11:13:07.268-05:00ThawedBelated post noting the thawing of Mohican lake.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQ4NcvVci-K5h6H_giUdO9YHmfV_78PD1eVPX6Sf8xevdOJIgQYdEStXaHs77nLpG_C9hzsVruixIqTVzN3X-7Q5xPP1n9SglWvmQOxFTAdWyWgFkmjvo1w68bgKseUWc_S27/s1600-h/March+012.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQ4NcvVci-K5h6H_giUdO9YHmfV_78PD1eVPX6Sf8xevdOJIgQYdEStXaHs77nLpG_C9hzsVruixIqTVzN3X-7Q5xPP1n9SglWvmQOxFTAdWyWgFkmjvo1w68bgKseUWc_S27/s400/March+012.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187818053020000994" /></a><br /><br />Tuesday, March 29, 2008<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht56iF_woh2sEtQ8au-2LbiVoyg8ufA1z2Ss8XVi04etxRy-Ofq9EtfXhRDKARYGb4aka0P07F73_lT0PA9jfr0It1KFX4OMeEBqaNsk0VSFJu2P322cUww5lCjI9oUtBCtl80/s1600-h/March+018.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht56iF_woh2sEtQ8au-2LbiVoyg8ufA1z2Ss8XVi04etxRy-Ofq9EtfXhRDKARYGb4aka0P07F73_lT0PA9jfr0It1KFX4OMeEBqaNsk0VSFJu2P322cUww5lCjI9oUtBCtl80/s400/March+018.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187818611365749490" /></a><br /><br />Wednesday, March 30, 2008Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-82093231716967813032007-12-05T13:03:00.000-05:002008-12-09T11:13:08.115-05:00Frozen OverMohican Lake froze over last night, much earlier than last year when we had warmer than normal temperatures through mid-January. Yesterday, ice covered the cove and the channel; today, a thin layer of ice covers the entire lake. <br /><br />However, the lake hasn't frozen solid. You can see open spots here and there. If the air warmed and it rained overnight, the ice might easily thaw. Nevertheless, today's the day the lake froze, and you can mark it in your calendar.<br /><br />Compare yesterday with today. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJivjd4FStfcFBhnABleTdqt-dABuI6-3Lgdaf6l2j5F0cqrR55P7pFnhcu2RmzbkRhMN0g09cZU6Vmhu7oJpEjm2ysDOWGDtc99UD_RkPMxcV-oLIsE89j5QSQBb_7e4dL6q/s1600-h/December+010.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJivjd4FStfcFBhnABleTdqt-dABuI6-3Lgdaf6l2j5F0cqrR55P7pFnhcu2RmzbkRhMN0g09cZU6Vmhu7oJpEjm2ysDOWGDtc99UD_RkPMxcV-oLIsE89j5QSQBb_7e4dL6q/s400/December+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140552966226568114" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Tuesday, December 4th</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhw9wo7_7ldQZCAGDQ3tG5VgvAcCqZ7d5Y4Ey_tHWkASCJOjM1v1jgmW8G7rQ34Guyd5CkKF_CEOLjDjAjUBmgbAs3Ok54bkdgaVI98gHB_dmWopLt-H1Mo_hm_PaZxIzmOWB/s1600-h/December+013.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhw9wo7_7ldQZCAGDQ3tG5VgvAcCqZ7d5Y4Ey_tHWkASCJOjM1v1jgmW8G7rQ34Guyd5CkKF_CEOLjDjAjUBmgbAs3Ok54bkdgaVI98gHB_dmWopLt-H1Mo_hm_PaZxIzmOWB/s400/December+013.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140553228219573186" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Wednesday, December 5th</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSzUb44c8CKNZgd7ieTAcbj5kg11jBe5KC1xVVXECcjvT4fCiA7qaYUnDMu8hTyz8VGvjTdPXCBupy3b26Kk77JGX5K-8iyTM6K-0bcmyTPNEFDLO26Ke3Gjl64dHKPKuSbZ60/s1600-h/December+017.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSzUb44c8CKNZgd7ieTAcbj5kg11jBe5KC1xVVXECcjvT4fCiA7qaYUnDMu8hTyz8VGvjTdPXCBupy3b26Kk77JGX5K-8iyTM6K-0bcmyTPNEFDLO26Ke3Gjl64dHKPKuSbZ60/s400/December+017.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141696226170342994" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Thursday, December 6th</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-20076350544321307262007-10-31T16:09:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:09.347-05:00Mohican Lake Autumn in Photos and Video<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CYRdpi8p_tb4znuSs9pHZCiGZfNbWVM0n9W42Dcry8Xqt8OIh53MMDbEtKwlHVKZw73GgSu18aVsZEDDZXEL-4S9zSR9xTH1OUE5T4bKtUeUdJFBaVQ1e-FiAPDz45_YMVSb/s1600-h/October+286.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CYRdpi8p_tb4znuSs9pHZCiGZfNbWVM0n9W42Dcry8Xqt8OIh53MMDbEtKwlHVKZw73GgSu18aVsZEDDZXEL-4S9zSR9xTH1OUE5T4bKtUeUdJFBaVQ1e-FiAPDz45_YMVSb/s400/October+286.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127598805656698850" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEwsiDyiTYdyw7tIKnkFgWhsCLA5EEvo4oSATxxl0VA2QXPDcdRYczIxl7kFj4b6kfzZQ9sWxQJIQmpHUQ_zazr-1yqq1xNhtkGkdhwjG3HKGtpz9jmX49fUR_svkr12CXNAr/s1600-h/October+341.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIEwsiDyiTYdyw7tIKnkFgWhsCLA5EEvo4oSATxxl0VA2QXPDcdRYczIxl7kFj4b6kfzZQ9sWxQJIQmpHUQ_zazr-1yqq1xNhtkGkdhwjG3HKGtpz9jmX49fUR_svkr12CXNAr/s400/October+341.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127598444879445970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K2S90Lua1LAEdox1fde0sExaRYEseYkjJ8FNNohsXk9Mz5Aoa67w1Mt03YrnnJgNze37qmSe3M9msoEitnQDPkkMwA17czGx2IR9lxye_Ffu-lxsM-dzNW_D8zo0ueclnkt0/s1600-h/October+351.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3K2S90Lua1LAEdox1fde0sExaRYEseYkjJ8FNNohsXk9Mz5Aoa67w1Mt03YrnnJgNze37qmSe3M9msoEitnQDPkkMwA17czGx2IR9lxye_Ffu-lxsM-dzNW_D8zo0ueclnkt0/s400/October+351.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127598191476375490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28BA31Ag4YBIiZ3a2I1oRNLWNawwhAQVwgQ5kpp_YOUSUAdB5abrwV8ryokb5cgIyRFQgRZmo9YjYShpL6nSrh9fg3p4Djwwu8WSgCkf4wqqlBKFqUrkaBF9ZO1InyVi5rk1t/s1600-h/October+386.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh28BA31Ag4YBIiZ3a2I1oRNLWNawwhAQVwgQ5kpp_YOUSUAdB5abrwV8ryokb5cgIyRFQgRZmo9YjYShpL6nSrh9fg3p4Djwwu8WSgCkf4wqqlBKFqUrkaBF9ZO1InyVi5rk1t/s400/October+386.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127597942368272306" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4qxKB4APEH-tdBt79efh-G6R5zDc4NswEeWM4lYqyASZghB8JxtGqv4jDAqzk-3Ey1-v6yLnbSGQT8N7XzaQF9cNAeaukH7frO2fGzmo8-4ojWIHWNV6W0_eOIFiJ3yNST4h/s1600-h/October+475.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP4qxKB4APEH-tdBt79efh-G6R5zDc4NswEeWM4lYqyASZghB8JxtGqv4jDAqzk-3Ey1-v6yLnbSGQT8N7XzaQF9cNAeaukH7frO2fGzmo8-4ojWIHWNV6W0_eOIFiJ3yNST4h/s400/October+475.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127597667490365346" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWIs09p8o7jSMXdIsycnmSX3GgCReo_yw7bzfmeSuXzenf9xdG0kK2H7w6I3GNFKNiNVwqiev9NjHoXxAxWfIc08bDzSrjljDTwzX-vD4NhGf-f4nJjNBNAg8b4dXpZZCTOUb/s1600-h/October+557.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilWIs09p8o7jSMXdIsycnmSX3GgCReo_yw7bzfmeSuXzenf9xdG0kK2H7w6I3GNFKNiNVwqiev9NjHoXxAxWfIc08bDzSrjljDTwzX-vD4NhGf-f4nJjNBNAg8b4dXpZZCTOUb/s400/October+557.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127596988885532562" /></a><br /><br /><object width="425" height="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/elVBbGRgdA8"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/elVBbGRgdA8" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed></object><br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-42549332608163553932007-10-24T22:08:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:10.028-05:00Beaver Update<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKciJarDYBbPtcDBhKec23I8oysc4f13KXVfJBJplnUrvTQOdLWjqV6LJ9SZ0bsQB5eMPfAORckgIBN0DOYvG37oyePOIUpxFmjAXUe2zDE6CmRHjdFd59ioIkLLXCPzi8dUFi/s1600-h/October+380.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKciJarDYBbPtcDBhKec23I8oysc4f13KXVfJBJplnUrvTQOdLWjqV6LJ9SZ0bsQB5eMPfAORckgIBN0DOYvG37oyePOIUpxFmjAXUe2zDE6CmRHjdFd59ioIkLLXCPzi8dUFi/s400/October+380.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125091214770732898" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Look what those blasted beavers did in four short days. They've gnawed through half of one of my prize oak trees.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11KddasgGTnhLxiBaRdk9z4_gpXm2qij-VmH0pJc3zduCPt6_HlQHKZh9G3wCQ0iRcKDNCeQNMdqS8SB_9jUq_jZ3-lkBulza47qUMO94NyWxXtW9iHlYreBbjtL8SC2TgOct/s1600-h/October+378.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh11KddasgGTnhLxiBaRdk9z4_gpXm2qij-VmH0pJc3zduCPt6_HlQHKZh9G3wCQ0iRcKDNCeQNMdqS8SB_9jUq_jZ3-lkBulza47qUMO94NyWxXtW9iHlYreBbjtL8SC2TgOct/s400/October+378.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125091446698966898" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I had to make an emergency trip to Home Depot to buy mesh fencing, which online research showed as recommended prevention. Another night, and they'd have taken it down, or striped the bark completely around its circumference. That would have killed it. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEcyAE4nB8WNZOVbYX4tmNjhDuJYUnQ6il9l_HNExUqwsDTTSj1cyAx1I2n7bGYELRzaMVK7cjxsazs7VkQXmbfLqEJiHxVcilESxITt1hCVJIFLx8pRJzFOajDhsW8YnrurX/s1600-h/October+379.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEcyAE4nB8WNZOVbYX4tmNjhDuJYUnQ6il9l_HNExUqwsDTTSj1cyAx1I2n7bGYELRzaMVK7cjxsazs7VkQXmbfLqEJiHxVcilESxITt1hCVJIFLx8pRJzFOajDhsW8YnrurX/s400/October+379.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125091708691971970" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There are two types of oaks on my property, swamp oaks and pin oaks. They go for the thinner barked pin oaks. I won't know until next year how severely damaged it is. I hope it makes it.<br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-1924015456733491862007-10-16T23:47:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:10.460-05:00The Sign of the Beaver<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqM1R6SVL8MHqUR5zyOmrxEGKTwxz-00eHT2fOC-EB_3fTE7ciYkcn8el8Qjok0Q5O8p21Em_q5nyfLaqfSGn3x-i5_63rwuYtOucNo-_5OtE0fMed5qAG1Vp-X6jzBJ_mcmC0/s1600-h/October+134.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122151045681901218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqM1R6SVL8MHqUR5zyOmrxEGKTwxz-00eHT2fOC-EB_3fTE7ciYkcn8el8Qjok0Q5O8p21Em_q5nyfLaqfSGn3x-i5_63rwuYtOucNo-_5OtE0fMed5qAG1Vp-X6jzBJ_mcmC0/s200/October+134.jpg" border="0" /></a>Ticked off about describes me after I noticed that a beaver had taken a 10-year old oak tree from my property, leaving a bitten-down stump.<br /><br />Beavers have caused a lot of destruction to my neighbor’s oaks, bringing down a sizable tree a couple of years ago a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_YCuX00IUqKkacqZVvFmnw95-m6MtCQJmIjpDAL1g-ergN90s6qcaMsC4TtWz68R71khRAkLhULissioCIZ0CDHujD3SKxnTysVslOMPI4VEn_Djz_jWSi-ytvZZSxhncGqi/s1600-h/tree.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122150242523016850" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7_YCuX00IUqKkacqZVvFmnw95-m6MtCQJmIjpDAL1g-ergN90s6qcaMsC4TtWz68R71khRAkLhULissioCIZ0CDHujD3SKxnTysVslOMPI4VEn_Djz_jWSi-ytvZZSxhncGqi/s200/tree.JPG" border="0" /></a>nd chomping halfway through a couple of others. Mine they've left alone, until now.<br /><br />I have about 25 mature trees on my property, mostly swamp oaks, but few saplings to continue the woodsy atmosphere after the old-timers kickoff.<br /><br />This tree I’d been nursing. It had competed successfully with thousands of acorns and hundreds of saplings, and had found ample space and light between two majestic, fully mature, late-in-life swamp oaks. Then some thieving beaver came along and cut its life short.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wrryWknbL37QIvup3hdl9z3rCCwLuRiguazaK3QfThxbT7fH1w1L5PDPK1eo0Y-ckIJX3vhctYSV8WdCx57r28x8UWUF1eeE1Uoid_jf7R3B-psxxkPDE9PThRkDYHAoBoUa/s1600-h/Spring+026.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122150023479684738" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9wrryWknbL37QIvup3hdl9z3rCCwLuRiguazaK3QfThxbT7fH1w1L5PDPK1eo0Y-ckIJX3vhctYSV8WdCx57r28x8UWUF1eeE1Uoid_jf7R3B-psxxkPDE9PThRkDYHAoBoUa/s200/Spring+026.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Earlier this summer, one of my city guests -- just arrived from the train station -- looked out the picture window and pointed out a beaver unconcernedly munching a lily pad, and probably dreaming of the day he (the beaver, I mean, not my friend) could sink his teeth into one of my beloved trees. You bet I’m ticked off.<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZHHpBwAJYLQ" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed><br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-14774202626339277522007-10-10T20:57:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:11.033-05:00Swimming in October?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPfrm6uyP89WZ9ixeb0wultSOyDFL8SZt3hLdizt4Ac6Bn2wLQsex0y2FuqBZDgspLiYm21Of_kKrkGlHphk9FVuzyC6h0-kHo4jzkcs4T0BTpI7D4l_YWXjUNj7jmGFn8p2q/s1600-h/October+069.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119895792714509890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlPfrm6uyP89WZ9ixeb0wultSOyDFL8SZt3hLdizt4Ac6Bn2wLQsex0y2FuqBZDgspLiYm21Of_kKrkGlHphk9FVuzyC6h0-kHo4jzkcs4T0BTpI7D4l_YWXjUNj7jmGFn8p2q/s200/October+069.jpg" border="0" /></a>I’ve done the backstroke in October every year since I moved to Mohican Lake in June 2003. In fact, I used to keep track of my final swim of the season. For example, my last dip in 2003 was October 8th.<br /><br />Last year I jumped in – and quickly jumped out -- on October 19th. Brrr. Today, October 10th, I didn’t simply wet myself, I did the Australian crawl.<br /><br />The water seems much warmer than in past years but I have no scientifically measured empirical proof, only hazy recollections. If I were more Thoreau-like – or more thorough – I'd be keeping r<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWcx488tWqqjiDW51-b3vHXvUISQ5FUrUbXSnjoofJVaNPu9ftR5NFCDFz6OVz2QC7-RqSPtxpel8SHdiIGhdUr-ZfGiIOgyh9AyArE8PvvzzeGk0DbGzMjCWcP6ijQD4E5sE8/s1600-h/October+075.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119895573671177778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWcx488tWqqjiDW51-b3vHXvUISQ5FUrUbXSnjoofJVaNPu9ftR5NFCDFz6OVz2QC7-RqSPtxpel8SHdiIGhdUr-ZfGiIOgyh9AyArE8PvvzzeGk0DbGzMjCWcP6ijQD4E5sE8/s200/October+075.jpg" border="0" /></a>ecords of water temperature, and noting rainfall, lake levels, and day and nighttime air temperatures, because all have probably contributed to this year’s extra-warm water.<br /><br />For example, we’ve had little rainfall in 45 days until last night’s deluge, which came in a storm which blew from the south. Also, the lake level has dropped at least a foot and a half since this spring, judging from rock discoloration. This makes the water significantly shallower. Shallow water heats faster and mostly we’ve had hot days and warm nights.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnA1T3SbC-SJCMu6me-gBvWO4Vh1pUKgqvNuy4D4Z17TLX8-Q2cgEfpzuDjEDYKY3sTa_5PmREcsPvlr7e3bNaVtzIVVBbVlKF2_LmfzFaTDoeT2ymibpBayWw1eZydjQ6wpQ/s1600-h/October+078.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119895350332878370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnA1T3SbC-SJCMu6me-gBvWO4Vh1pUKgqvNuy4D4Z17TLX8-Q2cgEfpzuDjEDYKY3sTa_5PmREcsPvlr7e3bNaVtzIVVBbVlKF2_LmfzFaTDoeT2ymibpBayWw1eZydjQ6wpQ/s200/October+078.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And we haven’t had a frost, only three or four nights in the 30’s. If we’d had cooler nights, the leaves would be more colorful and further turned.<br /><br />If this sounds like I’m complaining, I’m not. This late fall makes up for a very late spring (which I also only hazily recollect), and I’m loving it. One of these days I intend to take a dip in November. See video below:<br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/c_Y1UmahJH4" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-48265224389734710332007-09-19T09:34:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:11.293-05:00Turtles on the Brain<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEMZE9Cctnr2fJ_fRDQ0rqqW69Ut2ldjtr5oOs62eWSOELEWa8aE8Z-Udg2PDlAxpb6yyc-0r2bqBxJ2Cy8rHaUSshGGYB_gr9q6b80i_UYW4NOzxCLEIHiRZ0Xe4IuhqJYld/s1600-h/September+057.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBEMZE9Cctnr2fJ_fRDQ0rqqW69Ut2ldjtr5oOs62eWSOELEWa8aE8Z-Udg2PDlAxpb6yyc-0r2bqBxJ2Cy8rHaUSshGGYB_gr9q6b80i_UYW4NOzxCLEIHiRZ0Xe4IuhqJYld/s320/September+057.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111908745584744498" border="0" /></a>The naturalist John Burroughs observed that if you think “arrowheads,” you’ll find arrowheads in every field. Is it the same for turtles?<br /><br />Yesterday, I saw turtles everywhere. Was I just <span style="font-style: italic;">thinking</span> “turtles” or was there another reason I spotted so many painted turtles soaking up the sun?<br /><br />Painted turtles do what is known as basking because they can’t generate their own heat. Either they’ll float just under the water’s surface, or they’ll climb onto a log and bask for hours at a time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzKgD9MiR7AS8MU14dampbYD-EH0V9HHcVbf6ggzllkCwogtr0WMYTGprw0P_K2BwDhoPWaeVy1c9AfAZZWMwVsXTBETsfyo8KnQS2RQYhUoxoEpWoynOnHmVZaViebxfYERp/s1600-h/painted+turtle.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzKgD9MiR7AS8MU14dampbYD-EH0V9HHcVbf6ggzllkCwogtr0WMYTGprw0P_K2BwDhoPWaeVy1c9AfAZZWMwVsXTBETsfyo8KnQS2RQYhUoxoEpWoynOnHmVZaViebxfYERp/s400/painted+turtle.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111909076297226306" border="0" /></a><br /><br />However, too much heat can kill a turtle in several minutes. This probably explains why I don’t see many basking turtles on hot summer days, and why I do now as summer wanes and temps here at night descend to the upper thirties. In other words, seeing turtles everywhere is not psychological; they aren’t Jungian symbols of creative ideas bubbling up from the subconscious. Hah!<br /><br />By the end of October, these creatures will bury themselves in the mud and survive five to six months without oxygen. Who then can blame them for catching a few last rays? I did the same yesterday when I rowboated across the lake to do my own basking. Even took a refreshing swim, one of the last I’ll take I’m sure before my own winter hibernation.<br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A2TIK1xdjJU"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A2TIK1xdjJU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />Did you see it blink or did you blink?<br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-51525445092951779492007-09-08T14:37:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:11.692-05:00Please Do/Don't Feed The Animals<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghD29mqwRP3SgzlBDPwCKefqcVNGjoDdCm831CseFl7xLvIKOqFBo_Paa0eiA5r0f1iuQpNRx7-qJ2wP2voKe3giZ1AtayN8toMl-Vm5R5TGn9MpOpVz1_CtUy3Ql1Tdx18Q7G/s1600-h/September+091.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghD29mqwRP3SgzlBDPwCKefqcVNGjoDdCm831CseFl7xLvIKOqFBo_Paa0eiA5r0f1iuQpNRx7-qJ2wP2voKe3giZ1AtayN8toMl-Vm5R5TGn9MpOpVz1_CtUy3Ql1Tdx18Q7G/s320/September+091.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119900104861675122" border="0" /></a>I can never pass up a free meal, and neither, apparently, can many animals at Mohican Lake. Once these five-finned, four-legged, or two-winged friends get a handout, they return same time, same place, different day expecting another.<br /><br />Although I no longer feed the birds or the chipmunks (see "Chippy the Chipmunk RIP" below), that hasn't deterred these creatures from turning up every morning with nosebags. As soon as I get close to the picture window, Nutty the nuthatch lands on the railing looking for sunflower seeds. And once Nutty alights, Chicky the chickadee or Titty the titmouse swoops in for a looksee.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaj4Ficc82qCySYFQsybiEY9drhuM5wu3P4vjb2FUZK3txd6T10-NpO8M1OGKMKn-_Ti7_wh5U4qtsv54u_ZFlUb3dYsZW8LrTZiwSdCBn9oFlChSe5ALC1veqZ0qm0P4Mka-/s1600-h/sunfish.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5107905466995841298" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixaj4Ficc82qCySYFQsybiEY9drhuM5wu3P4vjb2FUZK3txd6T10-NpO8M1OGKMKn-_Ti7_wh5U4qtsv54u_ZFlUb3dYsZW8LrTZiwSdCBn9oFlChSe5ALC1veqZ0qm0P4Mka-/s320/sunfish.JPG" border="0" /></a>Last year, cottage guests and I took baked chicken on the float for a late-afternoon dinner. The bits of chicken meat that we dropped into the water drew a voracious school of sunfish and blue gill. My guests were so tickled by the experience that they repeated this ritual for the rest of their stay. Weeks later fish would gather when I went to the float to swim. In fact, I had to cover a large brown mole on my back with a band aid because, if I swam at about 5 o'clock pm, fish would pick at it. (Ouch.)<br /><br />Bald Eagles, too, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaf2Wpgp4GKQXw4CxrG-IbSi8_jZfEsT057OzYvvqwl8NBn1lyI1EIc62qeBcFQzMkRpSbva6C-IWadeYSAUcKgZTtwwsy2D5J8BztYeXcv6_nyGeVtAhBFrRResJ_Pt282Jt-/s1600-h/eagle.JPG"></a>aren't above scavenging, or even begging. During ice fishing season, the eagles will scoff <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilf2sxvqrQvjXi5LhL83BgdPAaHp_gT9O_k35uVMre3ysM1NBdyJFDeBRg_neFqJWEEzSrSFBd_L9aDs4BjjfKlw-5U_Sylr-fOim1AfmytTvlkPiDbPkPsXpzh75hdtH0HgXK/s1600-h/eagle.JPG"></a>down fish guts left on the ice by the fisherman. One winter, a full-grown bald eagle stood wat<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHC2XSCH1658Vb_d__ZlOn1fK19uWDTkaLM6mRMuGpmNHxWF69cZJChUE7zHdlE4cqXWZiEIAo9jf6nHc134Qxb38MVk-uVrnmuzYqZG7br7rIFFoIrI_a5F15h3IDvlvXmRO4/s1600-h/eagle1.JPG"></a>ch on the ice about 30 feet from a group of fisherman who were periodic<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfntzsYDV9961BBMn1q42S4ovir-dVYE1zX_3kzLGyylgxR_db9Ygo4CBuv6THOvPMcxofJALWSeNlsyICuyoiuF4RhXj5RdfQdz8aNQ_VOXTcTUrXxp8Ti4Id0njVzfsYtAW/s1600-h/eagle1.JPG"></a>ally throwing it fresh caught fish.<br /><br />My brother tells this eagle story from one of his summer visits to Mohican Lake. An eagle, perched on the branch of a dead standing pine, watched my brother fish from a rowboat just off the northwest shore near Blueberry Island. He caught a perch, but instead of immediately dropping it in the water, he thought he'd throw it in the air to see what the eagle would do. That eagle launched from its perch on cue, missed the fish by yards, but proved it had probably done that before.<br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-1035366110319487242007-07-27T20:06:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:12.096-05:00Herry The Heron Eats Crappie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOkN6MZnfye6aalVmsoqrRCXAzmxwHjJ3D29YAH077_ZWgfaiiROZ2hJ9mOEkK55s4Y1KDjhUrSc-Qg37ggI7NJPSI4t4vkE4IuyQzoUeuk1lbUOgc00IiBhyphenhyphenpbXQiQDkVcCS/s1600-h/July+023.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092034325855423842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOkN6MZnfye6aalVmsoqrRCXAzmxwHjJ3D29YAH077_ZWgfaiiROZ2hJ9mOEkK55s4Y1KDjhUrSc-Qg37ggI7NJPSI4t4vkE4IuyQzoUeuk1lbUOgc00IiBhyphenhyphenpbXQiQDkVcCS/s200/July+023.jpg" border="0" /></a>I’ve been trying to get a good shot of a great blue heron catching or feeding on a fish. At least one of these shy and solitary birds has been flying in and out of the cove since this morning.<br /><br />However, I've either run out of memory waiting for the right photo, or the bird turns his back on me, or he steps out of range, or some noise frightens the bird and he flees the cove. He’s even chased a smaller heron from his territory, but no luck getting the right shot, until it started pouring rain.<br /><br />I looked out the window during the high point of the storm -- lightening, thunder, high winds -- and here comes Herry the Heron gracefully flapping into the cove, and choosing a spot very favorable to my photographing him from the front picture window.<br /><br />Perfect time to hunt, too: no motor boats, no joggers, no golf carts or ATVs racing along the shore. Just loud claps of thunder, which,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirHoNWPL27t_O4KBoJuiz-IiLXwlWldu81bd6cFb7zBihffQCXqt_J8sLAQ8T2ONJduucnXf31WiW3qu08LwJenyIOkyzYgFEj7xYxk6Gu6K0XAnxU1LbxU0FkCJDBkStoGi8/s1600-h/crappie.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093179299712028018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhirHoNWPL27t_O4KBoJuiz-IiLXwlWldu81bd6cFb7zBihffQCXqt_J8sLAQ8T2ONJduucnXf31WiW3qu08LwJenyIOkyzYgFEj7xYxk6Gu6K0XAnxU1LbxU0FkCJDBkStoGi8/s200/crappie.JPG" border="0" /></a> oddly, don’t bother him.<br /><br />Wish I could say I got the perfect photo of him capturing a fish, but, again, my memory card was full. I even thought I had the best shot of the day, a long view of the lake, with a zoom into the heron.<br /><br />So I uploaded the video onto my computer, emptied the card, and went back to the picture window. As I did, Herry plunged into the lilies. By the time my camera was positioned, the heron was trying to subdue and gulp down a good size crappie, as shown above.<br /><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bYB8w81mwJg" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed><br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-80951092708651698002007-07-19T14:34:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:12.489-05:00Chippie the Chipmunk, RIP<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r4WPnv6hxrzWAGh0hPD45Hb9Thd7UV7P3argaylq3cjDvqcwCHsBE5wPPC3sUGNoEPr6EWLrvCLQiGtPksOO6SR0ARAfEGtj2NUsItkWJyAg1j5bLQ86W3Vh77ES1JKgRYJ3/s1600-h/June+070.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_r4WPnv6hxrzWAGh0hPD45Hb9Thd7UV7P3argaylq3cjDvqcwCHsBE5wPPC3sUGNoEPr6EWLrvCLQiGtPksOO6SR0ARAfEGtj2NUsItkWJyAg1j5bLQ86W3Vh77ES1JKgRYJ3/s400/June+070.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088978916360296466" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Warning</span>: This story might make you think twice about feeding the wild animals.<br /><br />About a month ago, I began putting a row of raw sunflower seeds on the railing of my deck, just in the morning. Even though I’d argued with people like my Aunt Helen, for example, that feeding the animals interfered with nature, I did it anyway because I found it entertaining.<br /><br />The seed would mostly attract nuthatches and tufted titmice until Chippie the Chipmunk discovered the food source, and would climb the rail and vacuum clean every last seed until his pouches were full. If I knocked on the picture window, or went to the deck and scared him away, he’d keep coming back until he succeeded.<br /><br />Today it was different. I bought a bag of dark oil sunflower seeds on my daily trip the market. First time I'd purchased special seeds for the birds, first time I'd put seeds out past noon. It attracted dozens of birds, but no Chippie, and even though it was raining, sometimes heavily, the birds came anyway.<br /><br />About 1pm, I finally saw Chippie, not eating seeds on the railing, but climbing a tree just outside the front porch window. He stopped at my eye level and looked. I think he was looking at me.<br /><br />An hour passed. I walked through the living room. Something caught my eye. I looked out the picture window. I saw Chippie on another tree, far up the trunk. Suddenly, a very large red-tailed hawk swooped to the tree, grabbed Chippie in his talons, pulled him off the bark, and flew two lots down.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgykvChzMUkptz4aoGdcqQRVvth6ZgQl8ZpxH0XwXvqtSzklIm6ekzxzpcrKnZ3XAOsyrlvowJaQZ8T-mh_9yHICZ61QTvO52U71GqcJyYpZpAAezLe2JD_-CpQRTdqNlxbAgYq/s1600-h/hawk.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgykvChzMUkptz4aoGdcqQRVvth6ZgQl8ZpxH0XwXvqtSzklIm6ekzxzpcrKnZ3XAOsyrlvowJaQZ8T-mh_9yHICZ61QTvO52U71GqcJyYpZpAAezLe2JD_-CpQRTdqNlxbAgYq/s200/hawk.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088991814147086370" border="0" /></a><br />At first I said, well, nature has taken its course, and then I thought, no, if it hadn’t been for me feeding the animals, Chippie wouldn’t be Red’s lunch.<br /><br />I ran to the next yard, saw the hawk, heard Chippie squeaking. I ran at the hawk, but it flew through the trees with the chipmunk dangling from its talons. Suddenly it started to pour rain. My glasses were covered with water so I couldn't see a damn thing. I didn’t see the hawk anywhere, but I heard Chippie. He squeaked for a long time.<br /><br />I haven't seen a bird on the railing since the incident.<br /><br /><object height="350" width="425"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oJBo6uPWbPU"> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oJBo6uPWbPU" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"></embed> </object><br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&add=http://mohicanlake.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/tech-fav-1.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-53301711791619029972007-06-20T23:47:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:13.183-05:00Mountain Laurels Then and Now<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJootnXEKEXFlgiyIX_5yW9fYkMMuLbEc-D-CYxs65bFCOhaqHT9rlT0zk0o3Q9b_4-H6ST9L1Ve-eRSmqIAGrRBzttVDpGxueZpGfzXfR6l1MyS4HSvYi4iRxYrhRx7xxJ2o/s1600-h/June+009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJootnXEKEXFlgiyIX_5yW9fYkMMuLbEc-D-CYxs65bFCOhaqHT9rlT0zk0o3Q9b_4-H6ST9L1Ve-eRSmqIAGrRBzttVDpGxueZpGfzXfR6l1MyS4HSvYi4iRxYrhRx7xxJ2o/s200/June+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078360369483135314" border="0" /></a>We’ve entered the last days of mountain laurel season. Yesterday’s heavy rain and high winds downed many of the blossoms.<br /><br />I can’t tell you why this plant grows so abundantly here--probably Mohican Lake’s elevation and soil conditions--but the blossoms ring the lake in June.<br /><br />It's interesting how one flowering season differs from another, in the same way, for example, that one year yields more apples than another, or more blueberries, or more acorns.<br /><br />This was not an abundant mountain laurel season in terms of the number of bushes in flower. Witness the difference between spring 2005 and spring 2007 as evidenced by pictures taken at about the same distance from the eastern shore at the peak of the season.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLwRms9MW6QmTkAxDhSs4Md5YxaPMsbMTpXRNSO_nbOamLi5jsRAVXTLnTqjozUm2BW5bPAp524TkzU6prTpdqiaihcwIwXG3BA-nwEVga35_jOtT_egzNYSSTOFjfTyJkxEg/s1600-h/spring+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLwRms9MW6QmTkAxDhSs4Md5YxaPMsbMTpXRNSO_nbOamLi5jsRAVXTLnTqjozUm2BW5bPAp524TkzU6prTpdqiaihcwIwXG3BA-nwEVga35_jOtT_egzNYSSTOFjfTyJkxEg/s400/spring+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078360786094963042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzv4oRMIHmoauWhMrgl9qs8DMX12q8XUNGYYu9SFwOspNKqAYjDDG2pLv2WpKLmuQxHkEyGjNdbWoahKsIXOoKglqdy1e2Umahn2X3f17TnZGhbsq058ijkTbQ2j7yisYOHuQR/s1600-h/June+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzv4oRMIHmoauWhMrgl9qs8DMX12q8XUNGYYu9SFwOspNKqAYjDDG2pLv2WpKLmuQxHkEyGjNdbWoahKsIXOoKglqdy1e2Umahn2X3f17TnZGhbsq058ijkTbQ2j7yisYOHuQR/s400/June+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078361331555809650" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-80773518555953186732007-06-13T19:17:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:13.337-05:00Bullfrog Mating Season<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJuCjQQPTzZKcZiDX6iI_G1PVEMFqVdmBHnf96d-Yh1zaQnUhFAsOtNRKs7VNvMiWaWy09c1qYQmbxvHix8LOKYByNtZN5EjUip3_ghZyHHYhbT-curpJ_fSykBK0ZrIrJb_5t/s1600-h/bullfrog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJuCjQQPTzZKcZiDX6iI_G1PVEMFqVdmBHnf96d-Yh1zaQnUhFAsOtNRKs7VNvMiWaWy09c1qYQmbxvHix8LOKYByNtZN5EjUip3_ghZyHHYhbT-curpJ_fSykBK0ZrIrJb_5t/s200/bullfrog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075692258489448770" border="0" /></a>Bullfrog mating season’s in full swing on Mohican Lake, which means that if your bedroom’s on the lake, be prepared for a restless night. You might wake up, as my brother did last spring, and say, “I hate frogs.”<br /><br />Although the bullfrog is big by frog standards, its guttural croak is much bigger, designed, during most times of the year, to keep predators away, but during mating season, to attract a mate. And the competition is fierce. Who can croak the longest? Fifteen ungodly bellows, one after another, is not unusual. And who can croak the loudest? You can hear the bullfrog’s call a half mile away.<br /><br />They croak at regular intervals, with a single frog beginning the chorus, joined by dozens, hundreds more trying to drown out each other. This lasts perhaps 20 seconds until they stop, wait 5 seconds, and then begin again. This remarkable cacophony begins at sunset and lasts until dawn, and endures for three long weeks.<br /><br />Having heard it you’ll come to appreciate Emily Dickenson’s meditation on the same infernal racket:<br /><br />I’m Nobody! Who are you?<br />Are you – Nobody – Too?<br />Then there’s a pair of us?<br />Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!<br /><br />How dreary – to be – Somebody!<br />How public – like a Frog –<br />To tell one’s name – the livelong June –<br />To an admiring Bog!<br /><br />Listen to the mating call of bullfrog:<br /><a href="http://www.naturesound.com/frogs/pages/bullfrg.html">http://www.naturesound.com/frogs/pages/bullfrg.html</a><br /><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-23155254706687849852007-05-12T15:01:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:13.831-05:00Woody the Pileated Woodpecker<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnM-rnP1imAeDF8Zr4f2r5vRy0uMXXX2Soh3Y-PQxLzKxs51z1BlJF2tPHR-gBr_fMeicCFP77DoTjfbgymAJEYlRf9oQLqffbs3eNwbELpI7aL-zyMg2nptDTp_EOFtVk41h/s1600-h/woodpecker+evidence.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063755432764933474" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKnM-rnP1imAeDF8Zr4f2r5vRy0uMXXX2Soh3Y-PQxLzKxs51z1BlJF2tPHR-gBr_fMeicCFP77DoTjfbgymAJEYlRf9oQLqffbs3eNwbELpI7aL-zyMg2nptDTp_EOFtVk41h/s400/woodpecker+evidence.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZI3MMBXRwWewjLGRCmeYMzOx1pHJBFicd1Slp0oG1IoQmpzmAsJtiWbyHN9t27i6VCQjqg96xVCJJ68hE090S6jU72pGh4YC1Ppy3XpODs26txtJ6EUrWAi4QFVWaZWT9dmEJ/s1600-h/woody.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063755256671274322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZI3MMBXRwWewjLGRCmeYMzOx1pHJBFicd1Slp0oG1IoQmpzmAsJtiWbyHN9t27i6VCQjqg96xVCJJ68hE090S6jU72pGh4YC1Ppy3XpODs26txtJ6EUrWAi4QFVWaZWT9dmEJ/s400/woody.JPG" border="0" /></a>Was that me laughing hysterically, or was that the sound of Woody, the pileated Woodpecker, after being chased out of crow territory and across the cove, swooping past my head, and perching on the bark of one of my swamp oaks?<br /><br /><div><div></div><div>Probably taunting me because he or his mate, Woodina, have put a nice sized hole in one of my live oaks.</div><div></div><br /><div><a href="http://www.math.sunysb.edu/~tony/birds/sounds/98sounds/pileated1.au">http://www.math.sunysb.edu/~tony/birds/sounds/98sounds/pileated1.au</a></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-81002806315660051232007-04-11T22:24:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:14.013-05:00Musky the Muskrat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNztCfGgnweP71e2mrHBZLb7fv1dNtor1iAw3nB9uF6Nyz1ZW2bFC5jgEHP4NCVQ3fXsJfMwBfuCgMo31pNJnV78P43Vb_D-YlmDFTkx17gumg9Jujy6dLy65YSjPrIOGMJGv/s1600-h/musky.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNztCfGgnweP71e2mrHBZLb7fv1dNtor1iAw3nB9uF6Nyz1ZW2bFC5jgEHP4NCVQ3fXsJfMwBfuCgMo31pNJnV78P43Vb_D-YlmDFTkx17gumg9Jujy6dLy65YSjPrIOGMJGv/s400/musky.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052364950014536370" border="0" /></a>In years past, Musky the muskrat would rapidly swim in the opposite direction if he saw me, but yesterday he changed course, circling the cove to swim closer. When I clicked my tongue as if I were calling a dog, he swam directly toward me -- maybe three feet from shore -- then stopped. When I took a step closer, he slapped his tail as a warning and started to swim away until I clicked my tongue again, causing him to circle back. Has someone been feeding Musky the muskrat? I think he was looking for a handout.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-83002458865947558492007-03-03T15:23:00.000-05:002008-12-09T11:13:14.325-05:00Ice Thunder<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouTxTOG8KJJkeF_Ww4RbFYts_VRP25Lf0op82TRRdpqdyFSMB6lOVQ5tFf4Y0SfroiaErW8wSyhTrbqKB6-YKaUKOsr_W5ZhWsg57hyphenhyphenGZLoxSw0v1wL4S97j9SzGe3iZAFk_X/s1600-h/Winter+048.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouTxTOG8KJJkeF_Ww4RbFYts_VRP25Lf0op82TRRdpqdyFSMB6lOVQ5tFf4Y0SfroiaErW8wSyhTrbqKB6-YKaUKOsr_W5ZhWsg57hyphenhyphenGZLoxSw0v1wL4S97j9SzGe3iZAFk_X/s400/Winter+048.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038602654908545602" border="0" /></a><br />I confess to having read Thoreau's WALDEN POND at an impressionable age, so when I heard ice thunder on Mohican Lake I had some vague knowledge of it. That may not describe the sound exactly, though it vibrates the ribcage the same way a deep clap of thunder does. Maybe "boom" or "resonant crack" expresses it better.<br /><br />However, no description can convey the way it startles. From the living room it sounded as if something had knocked the house off its foundation.<br /><br />I kept hearing it, too, so I went outside to listen. Sometimes the boom would start across the lake, sounding ever louder at irregular intervals until it reached the cove. Then it seemed to start in the cove, and roll to the opposite side. At other times I'd hear a single boom.<br /><br />I assume I heard it because the lake had no snow cover. I don't remember hearing it the winter before when snow covered the ice, and I haven't heard it since a snowstorm blanketed the ice in February.<br /><br />When I examined the ice, I noticed cracks of various lengths and depths, with some cracks seeming to run the full thickness of the ice, from 8-12 inches, according to an ice fisherman who'd drilled holes in several places. The boom probably occurs at the moment of cracking, or perhaps when these cracked sections of ice rub against or collide into each other.<br /><br />Expansion and contraction must be the root cause of it. If you were to put a glass of water in the freezer, the water would freeze, expand and break the glass. Wind also might play a part. It seemed loudest during a very windy two day period.<br /><br />A walk in Central Park that same week further illuminated the mystery. Ice on the pond by Bathesda Fountain had heaved, due to expansion, onto the concrete steps.<br /><br />Thoreau's observations also help. Here's how he described hearing it on Walden Pond:<br /><br /><br /><blockquote>"The pond began to boom about an hour after sunrise, when it felt the influence of the sun's rays slanted upon it from over the hills; it stretched itself and yawned like a waking man with a gradually increasing tumult, which was kept up three or four hours. It took a short siesta at noon, and boomed once more toward night, as the sun was withdrawing his influence. In the right stage of the weather a pond fires its evening gun with great regularity. But in the middle of the day, being full of cracks, and the air also being less elastic, it had completely lost its resonance, and probably fishes and muskrats could not then have been stunned by a blow on it. The fishermen say that the "thundering of the pond" scares the fishes and prevents their biting. The pond does not thunder every evening, and I cannot tell surely when to expect its thundering; but though I may perceive no difference in the weather, it does. Who would have suspected so large and cold and thick-skinned a thing to be so sensitive? Yet it has its law to which it thunders obedience when it should as surely as the buds expand in the spring. The earth is all alive and covered with papillae. The largest pond is as sensitive to atmospheric changes as the globule of mercury in its tube."</blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-20962405724544210192007-02-19T17:34:00.000-05:002008-12-09T11:13:14.695-05:00Spider and Ice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf60slrbpXOGensXji5QZ5SlmeXmcmmk9vErEFp02bLTcLHke5Z_e8_O03WY4gsTU2XSjfC9Itelh5W51b19cjAuZGVwl9lEjjivlB36Q11Rr9nt3Y2N_zgR4SKqg5zZZPnlIK/s1600-h/Winter+017.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf60slrbpXOGensXji5QZ5SlmeXmcmmk9vErEFp02bLTcLHke5Z_e8_O03WY4gsTU2XSjfC9Itelh5W51b19cjAuZGVwl9lEjjivlB36Q11Rr9nt3Y2N_zgR4SKqg5zZZPnlIK/s400/Winter+017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5033685262381274322" border="0" /></a><br />A thin layer of ice covered the lake, so I walked out on my dock and, just for fun, rocked it back and forth, heaving the water in waves across the cove and breaking the ice into thin, transparent chunks. I picked some of them out of the water with my bare hands and flung them across the ice where they shattered in a thousand pieces.<br /><br />The next day I thought I'd do the same thing only the ice was much thicker. We'd had a bitter cold night. From the dock, I noticed what I thought was a piece of lake weed suspended in the ice. As I examined it, I realized it was, in fact, a spider. And the spider seemed to be located underneath a broken slab of ice that somehow had slid under the existing ice in yesterday’s forceful rocking.<br /><br />I thought it might be interesting to remove the spider, so I began to knock a hole in the ice with a stick. As soon as I did the spider moved. This shocked me. I guessed the spider to be frozen in the ice. Instead, it walked upside down along the bottom of the ice, at first away from the vibration, and then toward the hole and to its freedom.<br /><br />I looked closely at the spider while it remained under the ice. Its body was translucent and fairly sizeable, and it seemed to have many tiny air bubbles trapped in its legs and abdomen. I figured that the spider had stayed alive using this trapped air.<br /><br />I continued knocking around the spider and finally brought out a chuck of ice with the spider clinging to the underside of it. Immediately its body color darkened, then very slowly this furry, one-and-a-half inch hunting spider began to crawl toward the underside of the dock from where it must have dislodged the day before.<br /><br />What a will to survive! It had spent nearly 16 hours upside down under ice.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29178523.post-1149281142576953342006-06-02T16:44:00.000-04:002008-12-09T11:13:14.834-05:00Bald Eagle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLR93berkSs28xjYuAO88xvxFXuOS90PL7gFGCKcEwIXsq8cvDTp6gcOu_veL3lopjSrfTMz-55t7VFiU0bFGka2Lpk2mEnD8mXDAKFQtrw9qczQUdnpgBAQ30awDDd1B2yH3/s1600-h/summer+222.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5033754407059772642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLR93berkSs28xjYuAO88xvxFXuOS90PL7gFGCKcEwIXsq8cvDTp6gcOu_veL3lopjSrfTMz-55t7VFiU0bFGka2Lpk2mEnD8mXDAKFQtrw9qczQUdnpgBAQ30awDDd1B2yH3/s400/summer+222.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Get this. It’s a Wednesday, about 3 in the afternoon. I’m a short 120 miles from the largest metropolis in the United States, in a row boat in the middle of a lake almost two miles long and a half mile wide. The temperature’s about 80, and I’m being pushed along by a warm wind. There’s not another boat on the lake. How is that possible?<br /><br />I look back to my side of the lake, the western side, where cottages dot the shore. I see no one. I look easterly and see a pristine stretch of pine and swamp oak, and try to seek out the log that I think an eagle landed on the day before. I have to find out if the eagle that I saw from my picture window did indeed catch a fish in the middle of Mohican Lake.<br /><br />It seems funny that two days before I was fighting the mobs on the subway to get to Penn Station, and pushing through those crowds to get a train to upstate New York. But every week up here I can count on at least one unforgettable encounter with nature, whether it's of a wasp carrying off a hunting spider, or of a pair of otters swimming in the cove.<br /><br />Yesterday, it was the eagle, which I saw skimming the lake surface and flying to the log. Then, using a pair of binoculars, I tried to see if it were tearing into prey. Crows kept diving at it. I could hear them screeching even a half mile across the lake. But that’s not unusual. Whenever I’ve seen an eagle, I’ve almost always seen some other bird or birds driving it away. Birds as big as crows or as small as sparrows have serious issues with eagles. Then I thought that perhaps the scavenging crows were trying to drive the eagle from its prey, but after the eagle flew off and out of range, I didn’t see crows on the log.<br /><br />So what happened? Had baldy caught a fish? That's what I mean to find out. I row closer, and see the sun glint off something shiny at the spot where I'm sure he fed. And I'm right, as evidenced by a pile of fish scales on the fore end of a waterlogged trunk of a pine.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2