Quack! I'm a Duck!

Might look green but its DRY!

Northeast Ohio is dry. The ground in my garden and flower beds are riddled with chipmunk tunnels that now have skylights.  I watered a hole under my raised bed in the garden for 10 minutes without it flowing out under the rest of the bed...where did that water go?!!!!  The birds are all stressed looking for water, the grass is brown, WE have a fire ban, shrubbery is skeletal and all the retention ponds are dry.  So what, you say, well here is the issue.

Mallard ducks have this particular habit of nesting most anywhere and are so common here that they make their nests wherever and in whatever is available....flower pots, under bushes next to your house, on patios...you get the idea.  Strangely enough, the female will lay her eggs a distance away from any water.  With the expansion of man into wildlife habits, humans and ducks tend to collide.  

I was at the grocery which is part of a large mall area.  So big that it has two retention pond type areas. The smaller of the two closest to the giant parking lot was now dry. To get to the other one wildlife must transverse a REALLLY big parking lot.  Not just in a straight shot across either but across the bias so to speak from one corner to the furthest corner.  

On this particular day, a police car was blocking the out exit; lights blinking red then blue.  It was literally, the hottest day of the year here at least 104 degrees.  The beleaguered policeman was standing, sweat dripping from his brow, directing traffic.  In the grass next to him was a very unhappy female mallard, pacing, quacking, lifting into the air periodically to move herself quickly from one spot to another.  I thought, that is one annoyed duck. The police officer was valiantly trying to keep the duck from getting run over.

Having been a naturalist in the past, I thought I knew what was going on, so I pulled over and parked.  Approaching the police officer, I could see his frustration and asked him what was going on.  His reply was, "Third time this week I've had to wrangle ducks, the guys are going to start calling me the duck whisperer.  I can just hear them now."  I chuckled and replied, "Ducklings down the drain, eh?" which was a duh statement as you could clearly hear a duckling peeping.

Down the storm drain, were momma duck's 8 babies having dropped one by one as she took them on their first hike across the parking lot to the other retention pond.  I am sure she'd planned on water still being in the smaller pond but the drought had done its damage.  With all the peeping and us peering into the drain, others gathered; more police came with chains and big trucks.  Off went the drain cover and the problem became how to get the ducks out.  I went to one end of the drain which emptied into the pond and did my best duck quacking.  Yes, I have been practicing.  I quacked and quacked and out came the one brave peeper...all the other lazy ducklings remained in place seemingly not caring that freedom was but a short swim away. 

A neighborly person arrived with a butterfly net, I scooped up the errant baby in the puddle/pond down below.  The policemen duct taped a plastic, Chinese soup container to the end of a long metal rod and I got my bushel basket from the trunk of my car.  Together, we nabbed the rest, placing them carefully into the basket. 

By now the police had completely blocked the driveway and cars were cutting across the parking lot willy-nilly, momma bird flying around, landing here landing there...it was quite the spectacle. One of the boys was watching mom.  Finally, she took off to the north.  I crossed my fingers that all the craziness hadn't scared her so much that she would abandon her newly, hatched babies. 

Everything was put back and people dispersed.  We shook hands, took pictures of each other with the ducklings, we wiped the sweat from our brows, congratulating each other and waving good-bye as the summer sun dipped behind the grocery store leaving just myself and Kevin, the duckling whispering policeman.  I placed the ducklings in my trunk and we drove to the other pond behind the stores.  Momma was still not in sight.  We turned the basket over and out wiggled the 8 little ducklings jumping over each other to be the first down the short slope to the water. 

As the soft light of darkness glinted on the water, other ducks emerged from the edges softly quacking a hello.  But none came forward to claim the little waifs as their own.  They were happy as ducks in a pond should be and immediately started swimming and dipping under the water to nibble at algae on the rocks.  I stood and watched until thirst drove me to leave.   I crossed my fingers that momma would find them and keep them safe overnight.  Ducklings are easy prey.  Probably is why they have so many .  It is not unusual for them to lose all but 2 or 3 to predation.  

The next day I had to work early so on the way home I stopped by to see how they had fared overnight.  As I pulled up, I saw a mother duck and 5 tiny little ducklings cruising quickly towards the middle of the pond. Evidently, they felt that they had had enough of stardom and did not stay around to thank me properly.

An Ounce Is An Ounce

Photo Credit: Restless Jim Davis

 Every year during thru hiker season, I enjoy participating in the pack Tuckerizing .ceremony.  It is a time to see new gear, to talk trail, to look at wanna be thru hikers gear selections and sometimes it is a time when I press the palm of my hand into my forehead and shake my head.  I've seen some pretty crazy stuff in packs like 2 rectangular bags full of various cosmetics, face cleaning items, anti-itch, anti-sweat, anti-bug and anti-wrinkle creams, plus band aids LOTS of different sized band aids.  Now, for the most part just let me say that band aids don't really work for hikers, usually its because they are sweaty and hot.  Band aids don't stick well to sweaty, wet skin...generally it takes duct tape. 

So, I know a lot of hikers, I even can play one on TV if I wanted to.  I used to sell a lot of gear at a major gear store.  Most of you know this about me.  What you do not know, maybe, is that I am a secret pack evaluator.  Meaning that I cannot pass by someone wearing a backpack without doing one of those superhuman scans where everything is revealed.  If you have too much stuff in your pack and you want to keep it...I am your worst enemy.  If you want to lighten up, I can be your best friend.  

Potential Ruck Tucker-izers

If you've ever been to an ALDHA event (goggle it) then you may have heard about a secret ceremony that occurs once, maybe twice a year at the PA Ruck and Trail Days.  It is called Pack Tuckerizing.  You will have to wait for another time to hear the whole story of how this event started and I have to admit I was not there at the very first Tuckerizing.  I think Friar Tuck and Jim Owen might be the only ones who know when the practice first started.  But it was a historic event which has helped many hikers in the ensuing years lower their pack weight 
and hike more comfortably.

When a friend, who is hiking this year, said recently to me, "My knee is killing me, I have no idea why and I'm not going to hike much just a couple of days."  I was duly upset for him. Then he said the magic words, " I REALLLLY need to lower my pack weight."  BINGO, Nelly...that's what I've been trying to tell you, I thought.  Instead, I said, "really?!"

When he invited me to look at his pack earlier this year before hitting the trail and I'd suggested that he leave some things home, he said things like, "oh, that doesn't weigh very much" and "Oh I have to have my giant knife and also my multi-tool."  Statements like these always make me say my stock answer which is "Well, an ounce is an ounce and you put 16 together you have a pound." and his reply was to put everything BACK into his pack. 

Photo Credit: DeLee Smith

This seems obvious but I know that when I started backpacking, I said the same thing.  So, I put in extra socks because I worried about wet feet, I put in extra food because I worried about starving, I put in extra clothes because I worried about being cold, I carried soap because of dirt, I carried...well you get the idea.  I carried things because of fear.  Not knowing what to expect I thought if I was prepared that I could use those things as a shield to keep me from all the unexpected things "out" there in the great unknown. I hoped that if I put all the things I carried on like a coat it would protect me from having to feel the fear and deal with it, to be cold, wet, out of food, dirty...but what I found was that it wasn't the things that kept my fear at bay it was the walking.   

 Was it easy to par down my pack size? No, each time I left something at home, decided to go with a higher degree bag and leave the extra pillows home, it was uncomfortable but I didn't die..yet.  Lately, due to knee issues, lack of time and aging I have had to face that fear even more because there can be no more backpacking unless there is less weight in my pack.  The real fear, I think, each of us face everyday is that there might not be time to do the things that are really important to us.  Guess its time to take stock and maybe I'll have to leave that teddy bear at home.....  

Summer in the City

The warm sun beat down upon my back as I looked up from planting.  I wiped the salty sweat with a quick swipe as more gathered upon my brow.  Deciding, somewhat spontaneously, to put in my garden after all was why I was standing in the hot June sun planting.  My decision to not plant this year due to the constant fight with the deer and instead put my energy into walking long miles in the heat had not stood.  I found the call of the dirt to be too strong.  The need to feel the dark earth, warm and moist, nay to fondle it, caress it like a lover, was too strong.  Plus, I just love going to the nursery and buying really past prime plants and making them grow. 

So, into the ground went a bunch of Kohlrabi.  Why because last year the deer ate them ALL and there is nothing better than a cold, raw kohlrabi...who knew?  I didn't until a couple of years ago...after the first bite I was a goner...they are really that good.  For some reason, I always buy way too many tomatoes.  I am not a good tomato grower.  They seem to look at me and laugh.  "You know that I will grow and sprout a bunch of little tomatoes and then the blight will come, don't you?", they say to me.  Still, hope springs eternal in a gardener's heart, I put in 10 this year.  

For some reason, I wanted to try cantaloupe.  Gosh, Vera, its JULY!  Ever the optimist, I figure I have as good a chance as any having them give me 'lopes before the snow flies!! Plus, I'll be really proud if they grow, I've never grown cantaloupe, successfully, before.  Also, into the dark, dry earth went 2 Cucumbers, 4 Flowering Kale (can you eat them?) and some Basil.  I'd planted some up on the porch earlier from seed and the danged Chipmunks ate all but 1.  These do not look like basil though so guess I'll see what they end up becoming!  Oh, I also put in Chocolate Peppers! What the heck?!

I'm friends with the owner of this family run nursery/vegetable market and when I bought my plants we stood in the outrageously hot greenhouse talking about the lack of rain, the farm bills running through Congress, the health of the sustainable Portage County farming community, how to keep the Blight off tomatoes and just generally catching up after the long winter.  I told her the story of our garden "tractor" we just purchased and how I was now calling myself a farmer since I "officially" own a tractor now.  She laughed companionably and totally got it.  We talked about our deer herd since she lives just south of me and the same deer that plague me eat her for profit vegetables.  A much bigger problem for her than for me just losing my summer veggies.  Yet again, she understood and commiserated and agreed that if I could get a bigger operation going that I had a good place to sell organic veggies. 

That easy, summer camaraderie of the garden is why I love working the earth.  We all live  by what nature brings our way.  We have the same enemies...deer, rodents, bugs and hail.  Advice is as freely shared as is an extra package of plants because we all know that being able to raise your own food is something to be proud of and not everyone has the guts or the determination to stick it out.  Its fun being a member of the Order of the Perpetually Dirty Fingernails.  

Not my backyard but this is summer sunset in the city!

 So, I'll cross my fingers and stand out in the yard looking skyward for signs of rain, battle the bugs and pick weeds in the waning light of the rosy, summer sun with birdsong my sunset serenade.  I'll breathe in the grassy air and the peace that comes from being a part of the earthly cycle of birth and death. The result of all the work?  Yummy fresh veggies!

Eulogy for Two Memorable Chicken Friends

Best Buddies - Miss Chickapea & Sheldon

They, of course, started out as two eggs...one brown and the other blue.  When they hatched, I assume they were cute, little and fuzzy like all chickens.  One was older and a female, the other a male came after the chickens had arrived at the farm.  I don't know exactly how they ended up as student farm chickens but fate brought them to Mary, a budding chicken whisperer.



Araucana Peep

 The female, of the Araucana breed, was not like the rest of the group of chickens that had been dropped off at the student farm...she was, well, interesting, alert, she liked people, she loved to be photographed and hugged.  Mary loved her knowing that as a farmer it is not a good idea to love your farm animals.  She couldn't help it.  Miss Chickapea, as the chicken was named, wouldn't let her think of her as just a 'normal, run 'o the mill chicken".  No sir, she was somethin' special.  Mary couldn't get away from her, she followed her everywhere begging to be loved.  So, Mary did.  Whenever Mary was at the farm Miss Chickapea had special allowances like being outside the pen, riding in her arms or being kissed.  She particularly liked that.  The other chickens clucked and fussed about being left inside the fence but like normal flock chickens they just ran around complaining, doing nothing to distinguish themselves.  They had to stay in the pen.

Jerry

The student farmers made a nice pen for them, covering it with bird netting to protect against predators and then put a solar electric fence up. Covering the pen with a tarp meant it was cooler in the run during the summer.  The students and Mary were good chicken farmers. They built a roosting box and got a proud, handsome, bold rooster...a Rhode Island Red, they named Jerry.  He was a good protector of his small flock of 10 or so chickens and strutted up and down watching his "girls". 

Soon, another chicken joined the group.  It was another male, who Mary named Sheldon.  He was a tiny, little thing, a Bantam Rhode Island Red.  He was a chicken with an attitude.  Like Miss Chickapea, he was unique.  He was small, he was feisty, he was proud of his black, green glossy tail feathers.  He was a cuddle bug. 

Proud Sheldon

He learned to sit on Mary's shoulder...well pretty much on anyone's shoulder or head until you made him get down. He liked to sit on my grand daughter, Kiah's head.  He was funny! He was an escape artist and once got out of the pen somehow.  He, finally, appeared again by flying from a tree which grew along the barn road.  Mary, was not amused.  But, like the big-hearted, tiny giant he was, he just went back to being happy-go-lucky Sheldon, like it was no big deal.

Miss Chickapea looking at the
camera instead of at who was talking.

Over the next year, Miss Chickapea and Sheldon became the stars of the Purdue Student farm showing up in PR videos and on media spots highlighting the great stuff that was going on at the farm.  Mary and a handful of like-minded students had taken on the Dean of Agriculture and worked with him to create this small farming program.  Sheldon and Miss Chickapea were outstanding examples of animals that could be used as PR reps and teaching props throughout the community...ambassadors for the farm.  Watch until the end, you'll see Mary and Miss Chickapea, Purdue Newsroom - Students experience agriculture, business, research at their farm and here is another example, Purdue Today - Student-run farm to offer learning, teaching, research opportunities .

Here is student farmer, Ashley, posing with Sheldon, http://www3.ag.purdue.edu/programs/studentfarm/Pages/students.aspx

Family visiting the Chickens before Graduation

They were more than just chickens...they were rock stars amongst Mary's family too as we ALL had to go visit them whenever we were there in Lafayette, IN.  We asked about them whenever we called.  Working their way into every one's heart, those two helped us to understand that life, intelligence and personality in ALL species are qualities unique and special to each individual and that when presented with a chance to really CONNECT personally with some animal (human or otherwise) it is always meaningful and special. 



Sheldon & Mary

It has taken me a while to write the ending to the story of Miss Chickapea and Sheldon because it has taken ME a while to process the fact that indeed their story ended both suddenly, terribly and too soon.  Also, I kept thinking that maybe, with time, Sheldon might reappear, flying out of his tree like before, shaking off the attack with his giant attitude that he housed in his little body.  Mary, of course would have scolded him for staying away so long while hugging and kissing him all over in relief.  But, alas, I believe that Sheldon too probably succumbed to the attack and is with us no more.



Chicken Love

Ok, by now you realize that something bad happened to our lovely, unique chicken friends and you are right.  Due to a cascading bunch of decisions brought on by an injury inflicted upon Miss Chickapea, they were attacked and killed by SOMETHING.  I believe it was the SOMETHING that took Bella, the duck away last year.  I think its a fox, feral cat or a loose dog that has decided to roam the farm looking for easy food.  After much thought, I believe it's the dog.



Woods beyond the chicken coop

For a few days, due to Jerry's behavior and some odd noises from the woods beyond the chicken pen, there was a tiny ray of hope that Sheldon might have survived.  His body was not found inside the cage like Miss Chickapea, just some feathers outside near the chicken coop.  I think, like Mary does, that Sheldon, with his fierce attitude and protective nature towards Miss Chickapea, was fatally injured protecting Miss Chickapea.  But, those of us that loved them will never know for sure what happened that night.  All we know is that they are no longer around to amuse us, to show us what life is like through a chicken's eyes, or reflect the eternal 'intelligence' that nature shows us everyday. 

Me - Out & About
photo credit: Jim Davis

And maybe I am exaggerating a little...I am a Naturalist, Environmental Educator and an organic gardener myself.  I know that humanizing animals is not a good thing...animals are not humans and have specific behaviors and intelligence within species.  Mary would be better able to tell you exactly how they affected her...but from the couple of times I met them and the happiness they brought my girl, I believe that there was something special going on there and only time will tell what lessons we learned from their short lives.  I bet if you'd had the opportunity to look into their wise eyes and seen the eternal wisdom contained there, you would understand.

Rest in peace, memorable chicken friends...you will be missed by many.

Graduation Day

If you haven't heard me brag about my daughter's graduation from college, well, here I go.  She is the youngest of my 3 children, all who are well endowed with brains.  All have launched themselves into the world and are swimming along just like we all do when we reach a certain age.  Matt, my oldest, is in the Air Force Reserves and flipping houses while raising a family.  He and his lovely wife are whacked....caught in that middle age between..whoo hooo and yikes.  Katie, the woman in the middle, holds 1 of my 4 grand babies hostage in Indiana, goes to school and works ...a full plate which she balances in the air like the true professional she is.  Mary has spent the last 3-ish years at Purdue studying botany and getting Purdue to start a small, organic farming program. 

Purdue just happens to be my Alma Mater also. I bleed black and gold...my dad went there, Mary's father and her Aunt went there, my brother and Matt went there.  Mary stepped into a family tradition of Boiler pride.  Hoosiers have 2 choices..you're either a Boiler or an IU fan...we chose the only Indiana University...:) Its a joke, ok..

I am a proud mama and was thrilled when she passed all her finals and then was accepted to graduate school there too.  We all headed to Purdue over Mother's day weekend to watch her walk.  I expected the trip to be full of memories of my own graduation but did not expect it to be as emotional as it was.

 Seeing her in her gown, walking around campus taking pictures, hearing the bells play the Purdue fight song...all that rushed through me catapulting me back to when I was she, she was me, we were...and my heart burst with the knowledge that she has no idea what her future holds.  Sky's the limit and already she has packed so much into her life.  

And as I watched the big screen TV, finally, I saw her.  She took her graduation certificate and stepped up to her Dean with the biggest smile upon her beautiful face that I had ever seen. Eyes alight, smile broad and ear to ear, she grasped his hand quickly, shook it looking into his eyes and at that moment I knew that she will make a difference. 

She turned and walked to the edge of the stage, paused for a moment looking out into the large auditorium not knowing where we were and pumped both her arms up into the air and said something...I think it was, "WHOOOO HOOOO!"

Welcome to Trail Days!!!

Here I am at either my 10th or 12th Trail Days...I cannot remember which.  I've been coming to this festival for many years.  Trail Days is an Appalachian Trail hiker Fest held every year on the 3rd weekend in May.  It's a lot of fun.  Usually I have very little documentation of the actual event because its too much fun and I forget to take photos....I'll upload a few from years past.

Five or six of us remain as participants and gather every year of what was once a group of about 15.  We miss those that do not come anymore and we talk about them behind their back's saying things like, "I can't believe they didn't come" or "Do you even know if they are still alive" or "Are they still in TX?".  Long time friends don't ever really leave you but are ghosts living in a closet whose door you open every once in a while to peek in at.  You just want to see if they are still there hoping that they come out of the darkness fully fleshed to visit. 

The streets of Damascus, Virginia, a lovely mountain town where the AT runs down main street, are filled with the hellos, sounds of hands slapping backs in hugs and wahoos of congratulations for finished AT thru hikes and questions of "So what are you doing now after the hike and where are you living?"

People who are not involved in the Trail community or ever stood on top of a mountain looking back with nostalgia at where you've walked from, purple-blue mountains stretching on in front of you to the horizon line, have a hard time understanding why my friends and I find this particular weekend inviolate.  Its a you do not miss weekend.  The miles, the smiles, the trials and the tears and laughter echo over, around, within, out from the mountains that surround this lovely little town.  Their welcoming warmth is an image of how we, the hiking community feel about our time on trail and the friendships made there. 

Through rain, wind, lightening strikes and hurricanes, snow, drought and injury, there are our trail peeps walking beside us, with us, kicking our butts, holding our heads/hands/hearts....you make friends out here with names like Buzz, Sherry, Creaky Sticks, Keystone (just met!), Marta & Liteshoe, Judy and Amy, DeLee, Bronco and Wingheart, Krewzer, Sue and Rabbit, Hutch and Sparrow, Suzanne, Lone Wolf and Gypsy, Razor and Red Hat, Bahlpack, Sherlock & Circuit Rider, Journey, Hopeful,  ....friends who even though you see only a few times a year hold similar memories of what it means to walk miles with your home on your back and reflect in their eyes the same understanding of the strength it takes to to walk the AT.  They understand that it is not the things in your life that make you who you are but what you chose to do and who you chose to do it with.

Cheers to you all, my lovely hiking friends....may the miles be kind and limitless...

What's Goin' On?

A friend asked me the other day if I had abandoned my blog....I told her, no, I had not but I do admit that I am busy.  It's late spring here in NE Ohio and it is just a busy time.  The trees are out, the soil is dry, the weeds are growing.  There are gardens to plant and acres to mow, trails to walk and pictures to take.  Birds are migrating in and out and this year, the first in a several years, I've actually been able to take the time to participate in one of my favorite hobbies, birdwatching.  Last week, I snagged a sighting of a Baltimore Oriole, one of the first sightings in my area. 

In my effort to gain marketable skills, I've also taken on some extra writing projects and am managing the Portage Park District's Facebook page.  That takes time.  Hopefully, in a couple of weeks I'll lead some hikes, right now I'm busy. 

Then there are the trips...one very soon sends me to Indiana to my daughter's college graduation ceremony then another right after to an annual get together in Virginia for AT hikers.  This is an event where I see long time friends, friends I see only at this event...there is a lot of talking and rocking on the front porch of the Hiker's Inn, laughing, wine drinking and walking...that's Trail Days.  I can't wait.  I am busy.

No one really ever thinks of time until there isn't enough of it or if you face an event that reminds you that there REALLY never is enough.  Recently, I bought something that has a 20 year warranty ....standing there I did the math and realized that wow...20 years...I'll be an age that I never even thought I would get to when I was young and now, gosh it is only 20 years away.  An age where my health may not be so good, where I will no longer be a great gardener or able to walk very far in pursuit of that great bird, when no longer will I enjoy riding the lawn tractor over the bumps in my yard nor ride my bike on the Tow Path.  These thoughts make me vow that starting now, I'll enjoy each moment and do the things I need to do to stay able to do those things I love for a very, long time.