Motto

"Wherever I go and wherever I am, I find I should be somewhere else."

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Living Bohemian


It is mid-February, I needed to get my column finished and write about something.  It is cold and nasty outside most of the time.  Football season is over.  The birding migration has yet to begin, and generally I’m sitting at home thinking of places to go.  I’m getting by binge watching curling in the Olympics. Typically, I use this time to update my “bucket list”—a list of things I want to do or see before, as the saying goes, I kick the bucket. 

I first made such a list 35 years ago when I was just a kid and I’ve been forced to add to it time and again as it I have ticked off items.  Some, you’d think would be hard to accomplish, but items, 1-100 were checked off by me as “been there done that” at the end of 2016, ending my list.  



Last year I began adding more items in earnest. I ticked off 5 of them in 2017.  Including #136, making meatloaf.

I went to the 1976 Olympics in Montreal and even as a kid, I remember that as being fun, but I’ve always wanted to go the Winter Olympics, and it has seemed, something has always came up.  On the second day of mixed curling, a sport, I love, I decided item #146—I want to go to China in 2020 and ring a cow bell during the Alpine skiing with the Swiss fans.  I also want to go to the Holland House to celebrate the Dutch speedskaters.  I already have an orange outfit and own the Swiss cowbell. 

What else do I want to do?  Hmm. 

Well, I quickly scribbled down #147.  I want to watch the Finnish Wife Carrying championship.  Not the one they have in Frederick, SD which is held in late June.  Yes, that would be fun, and they also compete for your wife’s weight in beer, but no the international one in  Sonkarj√§rvi, Finland.  In this race, they typically carry the woman upside down, and it includes running through a deep water feature in which the woman’s head goes under. I guess one better not hesitate in the middle of that.  It just sounds like a fun party to go to.  Besides Finland is the home of my nemesis bird, the black woodpecker and seeing one is item #115.

I like big crazy, off the wall celebrations, as #111 is go to Punxsutawney on Groundhog’s Day, something I’ve never done despite living in Pennsylvania for three years, but I always wanted to go.  Attending Minot, North Dakota’s, Nosrk Fest is also on my list, #139.

Some things on my list are easy, like going to South Carolina, #119, the only state I’ve never been to, and some, like #125, photograph a cougar, is just luck.  Biking the Mickelson Trail from end to end and finding a cool rock with a cool story numbers #134 and #137 is something that it just seems I need to schedule and finding a rock will just happen anywhere.  I like cool rocks and I know a cool one when I see one.  My sauna has many rocks in it with stories. 

I’m working hard on this list.  Number #101, to be a member of the 300/800/850 birding lifelist club, is just hard work.  Seeing 300 lifer species in South Dakota, I’m at 290.  The 800 is for the old ABA, and I’m at 796 with a likely provisional to get me to 797.  The 850 is that including Hawaii.  I’m at 847 with the same bird to get me to 848.  I need to dig out some very getable South Dakota birds, and that is not difficult and I need to chase birds around the USA.  One of which locally I need is a barred owl which I think I know where one lives but I never get a good enough view of the bird to identify it for sure.  I was out there today, hoping and flushed the bird again without getting a perfect view, well, much of any view.  I knew it was an owl.  Later, I drove around Deuel County and I did see some interesting birds. With nothing better to do, some of my birding buddies reported some cool birds in Aberdeen, so on a whim, I headed off westward.

Up on the northside of Aberdeen, I ran into a flock of my favorite North American birds, waxwings, 
 feeding on dried fruit in trees across from a nursing home.  

Bohemian Waxwing

Cedar waxwing

There are two species of waxwings, the colorful cedar waxwings that breed here and can be commonly found at any time of the year.  My favorite bird is the aptly named Bohemian waxwing., which can be difficult to locate.

I think I like that bird because I am a Bohemian.  No, I’m not from the Czech Republic or Slovakia, I have Celt and Swedish blood in me.  I mean the other definition of the term, “informal and unconventional social habits, such as an artist or a writer.”  That describes me.  This particular waxwing gets this Bohemian name for its propensity to wander.  That is also just like me.  I have a propensity to wander, like today.  I ended up in Aberdeen just to see a bird, I’ve seen many times before.  Bohemian waxwings are not consistently found, they nest up in northwestern Canada and then they disperse and can be found anywhere in winter.  The last ones I’ve seen were flying in front of my car in Warroad, Minnesota and I’ve seen them once before in South Dakota.

I ran into some birders I knew, photographed the waxwings and since it started to snow.  I birded and ran, and drove back to Milbank.  While I was driving back, I started to formulate new bucket list items.  I started the beginnings of a novel in my head and then thought about the weather.  Winters up here are rough, and maybe it would be good to spend February south?  I don’t know about doing that just yet, but I did add item number #148 to the list today, “get daughter to choose her college.” 
Tomorrow, I drive to Minneapolis- St. Paul to tour Hamline University.  Won’t college tours ever end?  She is down to four colleges, but now she wants to revisit them, and refuses to tell us what she is thinking.  I think item #118, drive my Vespa scooter to Minneapolis, will be an easier project then getting her to pick her school.  Oh well, that is why it is a bucket list.

Keep dreaming, and start working on your own list making those dreams come true.


Olaf

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Too Close to See Anything


They say sometimes you can't see the forest through the trees.  Occasionally, like this pilated woodpecker, I saw in Wisconsin this past weekend you can't even get an appreciation of the nature of the bird as it was too close.  last weekend, I went to visit my beloved Grandmother Lucille Danielson now six weeks of being 93 years old.  She was feeling pretty good, she was recently placed on steroids because of an arthritic shoulder. Now she is full of energy, cleaning house and making meatballs, cocoa cake, and potato sausage, life couldn't be better.

I grew up in northwestern Wisconsin, Graduated from Grantsburg High School.  I grew up in the woods 4 miles from Falun, (our phone exchange) and 5 from Trade Lake, both towns that reached their peaks before I was even born.  It was, in my opinion, a great place to grow up, generally.  I didn't appreciate the quirkiness of it all until I moved away--like the woodpecker, I was too close.

Western Burnett and northern Polk County Wisconsin are primarily Swedish immigrant areas.  Back in the middle of the 19th century, a great religious upheaval was going on in Scandinavia and many were being persecuted and as the Civil War was ending, many Swedes came to America for religious freedom.  Generally this was called the Piest movement ("The Reading movement" in Sweden as it was taught that one should actually read the Bible, not have it told to you) and it spawned all sorts of leaders and followers, and church denominations, some not so good.

One of the first, and he was not a good one, to make it west was Erik Janson, a man called the Jesus of the wheat fields, maybe the Pied piper of the time.  He led well over a thousand followers in 1846 to eventually make it to western Illinois, founding the Bishop Hill Colony, an utopian communist community, based on his fervent legalistic interpretations of things.  He was a "NO" man.  Many (2000?) died enroute due to bad Atlantic storms and disease.  This was no small deal.  Poor and middle class Swedish families were forced to travel to Denmark, Germany, and even England to keep children, wives, and husbands from following this man's call to go to the United States, and worship God....For no apparent reason, people would just up and disappear, and parents and husbands would board any ship they could to look for their loved ones.  The local officials eventually refused to issue travel documents, and many people stowed away.   This colony disbanded in 1861, as Janson was assassinated a decade earlier and they were plagued by bad investments and were broke.  Janson published his manifesto in Sweden after he left.  It was the rant of a madman and it became clear to those inclined to follow him previously that he was no second Jesus, but the trail to America had been made.

Letters back home indicated that western Illinois was a good place for Swedish Piests, maybe just not in Bishop's Hill.  Other leaders of breakaway sects came.  The Swedish baptists came in the 1850, led by visionary leaders like Palmquist, Soderstrom and Wiberg, and started churches in Moline, Rock Island, and Galesburg, after having mass baptisms in the Mississippi River, later establishing the Swedish Baptist Conference in America (BGC).  Others churches such as the Swedish Mission Church were also started in the same areas.

There was one thing generally in common with all of these serious Christian groups, and they were serious about their faith, really serious.  They interpreted the Bible as absolute, literally commandments from God and they felt a person could keep themselves from sin, so...they did not smoke, did not drink alcohol, did not dance, did not gamble or play cards, in fact, generally, they bordered on becoming true ascetics, in that they abstained from sex, much like the Shakers did.  They gave up having fun and enjoying life to save themselves or at least to try. It was amazing any of them had any children, and if you look at Baptist and Mission family sizes, they were many children less than of other faiths of the time.  Large families were rare, small families were common as were childless marriages.

As things took root in Illinois, even normal Swedish Lutherans came.   At the end of the Civil War in 1865, people desiring new lands to colonize wanted to move.  Five families left Illinois and on foot, followed the rails into Iowa and northward for over five hundred miles to northwestern Wisconsin and founded the first baptist church in Wisconsin.  t was located on the Wood River, and called Grace Baptist Church.  This church was 4 miles from my childhood home.  Later, Grace moved into Grantsburg, 2 miles west, which in 1865 was not even platted yet.

Coincidentally, last week, Rev. Dr. Ken Hyatt, died.  He was the husband of my grade school music teacher, and a father of a girl in my class in school.  He was a Lt Commander in the Navy in Vietnam, and was a pastor at the Historical Grace Baptist Church when I was around town.  For a BGC pastor (even though he trained in Dallas) he seemed approachable and open minded to me, probably from his days of being a chaplain and having to deal with multiple faiths in a terrible war.

The first Swedish Lutheran Church in Northern Wisconsin was built a few miles south of my house in Trade Lake.  Trade Lake was an extra quirky town (two manufactured mineral rushes --Copper and Gold, a local genius with a mysterious demise, and even a hippie commune). I'll leave that for another story.  Trade Lake was the home of our only King, "King Carl" Anderson and later, another infamous dude named "Trader" Carlson.


A man buried in a completely enclosed grave site, as the legend has it not to keep you out, but him, ...in.


Mission churches also popped up like the Wood Lake Covenant Church in 1872 (at least one of my family's places of worship historically).  In the middle of all of this, my Great-great Grandfather Henrik Vedelius arrived full of Piest fervor and although his exact origins are obscure, I think he was trained at Uppsala as a priest and then converted to something...but I can't prove it.  I can't even prove if he was Lutheran or Mission.  My ancestors are buried at both cemeteries, opposite of what they seemed to believe.  As to how everyone ended up buried where they are doesn't make a sliver of sense to me.  I guess it doesn't matter as they are dead.


When I die, a few of my ashes will be deposited 200 feet southwest of my Vedelius ancestors, maybe I'll have a stone, maybe it will have a bird on it.  Maybe I'd be best buried in an anonymous grave, as no one will care .  My family and me own a lot of plots in that cemetery.  Grandmother Lucille bought me some for a birthday gift 30 years ago, as they were having a special (3 for $75, she bought 6).  Despite having ancestors and I'm sure plots at the other cemetery, I'm glad to not be buried with a bunch of Mission church members, I want to have fun in the afterlife.....why?  Somehow, I became the opposite.  I like doing what people tell me not to do.  Is that what legalism does to some people?


In the middle of all of this legalism and Bible thumping, The Volstead Act appeared, the 18th Amendment to the Constitution, banning alcohol. Congressman Andrew Volstead, a Norwegian, (distant cousin to the Queen of Norway at the time) was even a lawyer in Grantsburg WI for a year, but felt Grantsburg was both too Swedish and too conservative and moved to Granite Falls, MN where in 1902 he was elected to congress from Minnesota;s 7th district.  Did Grantsburg forcing him to leave cause Prohibition?  No, I don't think so as it would have just had a different name.  Wisconsin's 9th (or 10th) congressional district would have never elected a Norwegian to congress however, if he had stayed. (This is not racist, Minnesota's 7th would have never elected a Swede, having Norwegians for 100 years).


It was in a sea of post WWI anti-German behavior that state after state voted to prohibit alcohol sales, even Wisconsin, majority ethnic German, became the 40th state to approve it in 1919.  The people in my home area thought that America was becoming a Biblical nation back then with this vote, but, again, they couldn't see the trees in the forest, drinking got worse.


In a very colorful quote of the time, Frank Buckley of the federal bureau of prohibition was commissioned by the national commission in the late 1920s on law observance and enforcement to do a survey and rate Wisconsin’s enforcement of the federal prohibition laws. Buckley's report was based on information he gathered from law enforcement officials, inspection of records, and from personal observations.



“Wisconsin, to the average American unacquainted with actual conditions therein, is commonly regarded as a Gibraltar of the wets— sort of a Utopia where everybody drinks their fill and John Barleycorn still holds forth in splendor.”  

The state of Wisconsin voted in 1929 to not enforce Prohibition by state authorities by a 2/3 statewide vote. They became the 2nd state to ratify its repeal in 1932 by unanimous vote on a state convention.  Despite this seemingly regional realization of the absurdity of Prohibition and having Chicago gangsters roaming many of the towns around the Wisconsin lakes, my home area never accepted the repeal of national Prohibition as anything more than an annoyance.  It was now legal to drink in Wisconsin and a few local townships and communities voted to allow liquor sales after 1934, but not mine.  These religious zealots who felt being Dry was akin to the first step to salvation even used World War II as an opportunity.  The fact that many male residents conscripted or volunteered were dying in Africa, Europe, or the Pacific, didn't let the opportunity pass by then by.  These were churches that Sunday after Sunday, and even on most Wednesday services told us plainly we were ALL going to Hell, our only hope, and it was a slight one at that, was to live as pious a life as we could so that maybe we'd end up better off than the neighbors.  Fire and Brimstone was the future for almost everyone.  Banning alcohol was their duty to humanity, to save them from themselves.

In 1944, The townships of Daniels (including my home town of Falun) and Trade Lake and others, voted to ban alcohol and reestablish prohibition on the local level.  My grandparents were now living again in 360 square miles of alcohol free real estate.  As restaurants and dance halls typically served alcohol or beer, the one dance hall in Daniels eventually closed and despite us having lakes and resorts, I was born into a region with out even a place to go and eat out.  The only entertainment in the 40s/ 50s/ and 60s was largely shooting things or going to church.  Thank God for cars as driving to Polk County or eastern Burnett county could also be done easier.  Even card playing at home became a little clandestine.  There was a joke going around that nobody had showers back then because someone might look in the window and see you doing the dirty deed in the shower and think you were dancing.  

Grantsburg was an exception, as they tried but couldn't vote to force the two existing taverns to close, and they hung on, stubbornly, knowing that if they closed, alcohol would be gone for ever. 

Nearby Polk County didn't put up with this nonsense and along the border bars and restaurants thrived.  Small hamlets like Wolf Creek, Cushing, Atlas, West Sweden, and Lewis had famous bars and West Sweden even had a dance hall with a cool Leinenkugel's sign, the biggest one I've ever seen.  They thrived and the roads to these towns a few miles south of Prohibition were dangerous places to drive on Friday nights.  Deadman's curve north of West Sweden, earned its name many times over.

Those unwilling to drive, fired up their "Stills" built in their bootlegging past.  These were hidden in the woods usually masquerading as maple syrup operations.  My Great grandfather Danielson, it was said, was never more than a few steps away from a bottle of schnapps.  It was clear, he never drove to buy it.  He'd only drink for celebrations but it seemed there was always something to celebrate.  I've uncovered gallons and gallons of stump schnapps and homemade wine out in the woods as a kid.  Even in the woods of some appearing pious individuals.  

I tasted much of it, and it was good.  My grandfather was always coy about it and how much was made.  Many of the men, church elders at the Baptist and Mission churches, had a secret passion.  I was too young, but it was clear, the women were never told and much of it was also hidden at male only hunting camps and ice fishing huts.   It took decades, but from the late sixties on these laws were overturned to at least allow off-sale beer.  Wood River's first referendum to allow off-sale, ended in a tie in the 80s and it took a second referendum two years later. to finally end 110 years of Prohibition.

Old habits are hard to change.  When I was a kid, we ate out quite a bit in West Sweden at the Skolhaus, so my parents could have a drink.  They had a burger called a Big Omar an it is six miles away in the edge of the hills in Polk County.  I haven't eaten there in 20 years and despite multiple ownership changes, it is still open.  Last weekend, I decided to go back.  I wanted to take my grandmother out but she is a product of the local rumors.  "Oh, it is too expensive.  The food isn't good, and nobody goes there." I even expected her to say, no one goes there anymore because it is too crowded, but alas no, that was Yogi Berra's quote.  We went anyhow.  I'm stubborn.  




We drove over in a snowstorm.  The place had been redone.  We had what is considered expensive, my wife a $25 prime rib, me a $22 shrimp dinner.  Burgers were under ten bucks...expensive?  I enjoyed a regular classic Leinenkugel's, paid $3 for it, the stuff you can't get outside of Wisconsin.  It was worth ten bucks!



My son Tyko is laughing at the salad bar restrictive signage (you can only make one trip!).  The beer was great and the food was good, too.  We even had deep fried green beans...



Green beans?  I had to order them, just because...I could.  West Sweden was a hamlet settled by Lutherans


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I went to church on Sunday (to look for birds in the cemetery) Where the most important member of the Lutheran church in West Sweden is NOT the pastor, just the organist as he or she is the only one who gets a designated parking space.



Later, I watched birds at my Grandmother's house at her feeding station.


Red-breasted nuthatch

pileated woodpeckers

Hoary looking redpolls


Some redpolls that looked more common than hoary 
I wish they would have just lumped the two species, IMHO they are the same species.  Grandmother hasn't had redpolls for a couple of years.  She doesn't have any more exotic arctic finches this year but I got a year bird, a cardinal, which I never photographed....because it was a cardinal

It was a nice visit for me.  My wife wiped out on the ice giving herself a concussion so some of what we hoped to do, we didn't do, but she'll be okay.  It wasn't a nice visit for her.  I was not the understanding husband as I didn't understand what had happened.  I needed to learn patience and compassion.  I need to see the bigger picture and not focus on the little twigs (not even a a tree).

We also had to skip a Super Bowl party in Minnesota Sunday, but that is life,.  Again, I had to see the bigger picture and get her home to get better.  We saw the 4th quarter at home.

I guess the past is past


Olaf



Monday, January 29, 2018

Best Duck by a Dam Site




January 29,  2018  Pickstown, South Dakota, 10:00 am

Back in the days when America was a great country and we could multi-task, we built dams.  Authorized in the middle of an expensive war in 1944, Construction of Fort Randall Dam began in 1946 and President Eisenhower threw the switch  on it in 1954 just after the completion or at least the cessation of hostilities of another war.  The cost 200 million dollars.  How did we have all of this money to build things back then?  Oh wait, those WERE the good old days.

This dam, the first built from the Pick-Sloan Plan forever ended anyone doing what Lewis and Clark had done 150 years earlier, navigating the Missouri River into South Dakota and upstream at least to Great Falls.  In the twenty years that followed, 5 more large earthen dams would be built, one downstream at Gavin's Point and four more upstream.

Built for flood control and hydroelectric power, the dam makes lake Francis Case and generates 320 MW of power production, which as impressive as that may sound, the coal fired Big Stone powerplant near my house is rated at 474 MW, about 50% higher.

I'm not a real fan of dams.  The dam at Glen Canyon on the AZ / UT border, I, along with Edward Abbey, think it is among the biggest ecological nightmares ever concocted.  Yes, it generates 1300 MWs of power out of the Colorado, and none of this puts out any carbon, but I ask the people wanting a low carbon footprint, if destroying a wonderful canyon was worth this?  Is stopping the Colorado River from flowing into it's delta was worth it?  

What does blocking migration of fish on a major river in South Dakota do?

Okay, environment aside, one thing these dams do is keep the river open, and below this dam, and the ones upstream do is lead to places where waterfowl and gulls congregate.  One such bird that has appeared here, is the Barrow's goldeneye, in fact, this appears to be the 10th appearance of the bird in the ebird era, and as such, trying to get my South Dakota life list to my goal requires me to chase otherwise common birds.  

I should have went yesterday, but I got an attack of the lazies and the best I could do was to go out to hunt for owls, although all I found were finches.



My alarm went off at 4:30 and I arrived at 9:30 this morning after a 4 1/2 hour drive nearly to the Nebraska border.  I drove down to the tailrace and put my bins right on the bird.



TICK! it was feeding right in front of my car, SD lifer #290.

There were quite a few winter ducks hanging around, I got both goldeneyes, this flying common goldeneye got its picture taken.



There were red-breasted and common mergansers, this is a female common merg that was right in front of me....



and my wife's favorite duck....buffleheads.  I can never get a perfect photo of buffleheads, their contrast makes my camera go nuts



then I got another good bird with my Barrow's goldeneye, a lone glaucous gull, the only gull I saw while I was there.  Only my second one in this state and a good bird itself.



I watched the ducks for about an hour and then zig-zagged my way home, finding a good looking spot to dig out bobwhites possibly in the spring near Scotland, South Dakota, another bird I need

So yes, the Barrow's goldeneye, the best bird by a dam site, I've seen this year, but the year is early....

another day, another bird closer to the 300/800/850 club

Olaf

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Winter owls



There is just something about going owling in the dead of winter.  Its cold, its lonely, its tedious, and its tripping over your feet, over a log, over a snowbank because invariably, your light has frozen up and won't work and wherever the owls are you're not and trying to get to them in the middle of the night is always through stuff humans weren't meant to walk through.


Owls are humorless, serious, and generally ominous creatures.  The words happiness or joyous and owls are rarely ever used in literature together.  I'm not sure this is good...or bad. It just is...

Throughout human history, the symbolism of the owl has almost always represented evil omens, demons, illness, disease, and death to many ancient cultures.  The Boreal owl, Aegolius funereus, means literally the owl of death or funerals, corresponding to a Norse/Germanic belief that this owl would show up on houses of those soon to be departed from this life.

Here in North America, in most Native American tribes, owls are a symbol of death. Hearing owls hooting is considered an unlucky omen, and they are the subject of numerous 'bogeyman' stories told to warn children to stay inside at night or not cry too much, otherwise the owl may carry them away. In some tribes, owls are associated with ghosts, and the bony circles around an owl's eyes are said to be made up of the fingernails of ghosts. Sometimes owls are said to carry messages from beyond the grave or deliver supernatural warnings to people who have broken tribal taboos. And in the Aztec and Mayan religions of Mexico, owls served as the messengers and companions of the gods of death.  The great-horned owl specifically is viewed as the humorless lawman of the Hopi which is the straight man to respond to Koshari clowns and their antics. 

I've had a little luck finding owls this winter... 

The great grays above were from the cold of northern Roseau County, Minnesota and are down in the bog, just not down in numbers.  Back in 2013, I wrote a blog "Pardon the Irruption." when I stumbled upon an irruption of GGOW at this same spot, and saw 31, then buried my car and had to get rescued on the Canadian border.  An irruption is defined as any sudden appearance of a lot of birds not usually found in a given spot for some reason, there.  That was my second hard core irruption.  In Denmark I ended up in the middle of nearly a hundred of the cool birds when I was picking up my first Volvo.

The only irruption going on in South Dakota is white-winged crossbills.  They have been all over the state and have moved into Brookings where I got my lifer state bird last year..  On Tuesday, I stumbled upon 19 of the critters in a diminutive cemetery just west of the Minnesota, South Dakota line, ten miles from my house.  The first ebird tick in Grant County ever....





The cool thing was I found them.  Always fun to dig out a rarity, even if it is just wwcr.  Best thing in Grant County South Dakota in a long while.  I was out searching for owls, sometimes a guy gets just dumb lucky.  Been back twice, a red-bellied woodpecker is the best I've gotten there since the big find.


Great Horned Owls are out and about.

Here is a Dueul County SD bird that was pushed out of its favorite sleeping spot by church goers at a small country church at a place called Zoar



I also stumbled upon one that was watching a group of feeding pheasant intently near the shore of Lake Traverse in Roberts County, SD.




Tis' the season of Snowy Owls unfortunately they seem to be either way north of me or much farther south, as we are in some sort of nadir for them.  I just so rarely see snowy owls near our house in Milbank, although I did have one a few years ago fly over our backyard.



Morris, Manitoba, Canada

Richland County, North Dakota #2

Richland County, North Dakota #3

Northern Saw whet owls.  These little buggers are hiding out in the small groves of pines and junipers around.  They had been seeing them at three spots in Fargo, which I hooked up with a local guy named Dan Mason while I was up there when my daughter toured Concordia College of Moorhead...go Cobbers!  Fear the ear and all of that.....

Image result for fear the ear concordia 
.  
My daughter is down to four colleges and refuses to talk about her choices.
So I don't know how the lunch etc worked out but it was better than than finding owls along the Red River of the North....we struck out.....later at West Acres mall, my wife got her year 
Stuffed owl  Asio Stuffedicus


They tend to like shelves in toy stores.  This is Bison country and one has to be careful of them as well.


A full-sized bison toy is what every guy wants, I thought about it buying one, but then I didn't know if we had room.

I spent some time digging around for the little owls, but no luck, I found one last March south of Fargo and I'm sure if I keep at it, I'll find one....

I'll keep up the tedium and vigil to find more owls until I get up the gumption to go chase something.

Just remember....never wake a sleeping owl, words to live by

Olaf

Monday, January 15, 2018

Tipsy Canoe and Olaf, too



Okay, I had a lot of choices for potential titles for this blog.  There was "A Merry time in the Maritimes,"  I could have also said "Miracle in the Maritimes" in the honor of the Vikings shocking win.  I could have started out with the Immaculate Reception tale.  Then there was the "Legend of the Dungarvon Whooper," which I will talk about as one of the horror movie scrips I could come up with events from this trip, which surprisingly have nothing to do with me.  But since I earned a lifer beer, and I like the sign, we will leave the title as is.  Lifer beers are rare, these days.

New Brunswick....I can only say one thing about New Brunswick, in that it is one of three  Canadian Provinces I had never been to before yesterday.  Getting here is a piece of work, as there is no jet airport and the turbo-props seems to go late if at all.  So from where I last left you in Winnipeg, I flew to Toronto, then after a monstrous layover, I had to wait through a further 2 hour delay.  I got to Fredericton, and then began a nighttime odyssey on roads covered in more black ice than I'd seen before intermixed with the occasional moose.  I got stopped in Blackville NB as a house was on fire and the trucks were blocking the highway.



Here is a look at the burnt out shell in the morning.  It is sad that someone lost a place to live.  Miramichi, my goal, never looked so good when I finally got there.

Morning came, it was cold and gray, even the coffee line at Tim Hortons didn't lighten the day and I drove up into a residential section to look for the rarest bird that has been seen in North America (except for the Bering sea) in over a year.  It was also day 36 for this bird.  This poor mistle thrush appeared in a backyard of a birder on December 11, and has just moved two blocks, still living off of Mountain ash berries, as to be real about it, this European bird has nowhere to go, certainly it won't return across the ocean.  It will starve or become a meal for a sharpie.  This huge thrush is not even a world lifer for me, as I have seen the bird previously in Norway.  

All that being said, I should have came here long ago, be it for illness, sloth, storm warnings, Christmas, chasing other birds, and a general malaise of traveling alone, delayed my departure but finally, I had to go get it.  I may never in my life get a second chance for this species.

Full of Tim Horton coffee, I arrived at the stakeout by myself and then twenty minutes later I saw it in the trees eating berries.  I think it just hopped out of a spruce, but there it was.  Mistle thrush...TICK!



I snapped pictures  until my fingers were numb.





Tough to get a great picture of this bird.  It stays in the thickest branches.  I ran into the finder of the bird.  I staked out his backyard for a while and then began my meander back to Fredericton.  It was kind of cold to go sightseeing but well, I always find things.

There are some strange legends out there, maybe the legend of the Miramichi Mistle Thrush will be told for decades but the Legend of the Dungarvon Whooper might take the case of an odd one, possibly also bird related.



Back 200 years ago at a logging camp, there was this young cook named Ryan, who died, probably killed by the camp boss, the men returned in a severe snowstorm and buried the poor lad in a shallow grave.  From thenceforth every night, whoops and screams could be heard from the grave all night, then men fled in fear never to return.  This continued for three years necessitating a priest, Father Murdoch from Renous  to come to the area and bless the grave (or possibly shoot the owls) and the whoops ended.  So ends the legend of the Dungarvon Whooper.  It would make a great horror movie.  A guy can't make this stuff up.

I found New Brunswick to look just like Douglas or Bayfield Counties in Wisconsin, complete with white-tailed deer under almost every tree.  "Give our deer a brake."  Was a popular sign.



The churches seemed older...



The stop signs different... 



but generally the same.

This place just had massive winter flooding and the water is high, roads flooded by sort of frozen water and the rivers look impressive.  There are piles of ice everywhere.



There is one difference to eastern Canada, though.  It is French Country and Western music that just is the weirdest thing.  It befuddles me, to hear this intermixed with Sammy Kersaw and Neil McCoy "The Shake" is just wrong.  

2nd verse of The Shake

Eve first said to Adam
Which outfit do you like
The maple or the fig leaf
Now honey they both look nice
Clothes don't mean that much to me
Maybe you better go and ask the snake
And what really turns me on is the shake


You know, when I think of cowboys on the range, I don't think of a Frenchman doing it and especially not singing about it.  It is amazingly popular out here and I find myself laughing endlessly.  I just couldn't take it any longer and I had to switch to an English language station, which of course causes its own issues.

Then came my idea for a second horror movie.  The big sound off on Fredericton radio was a woman ranting against the church bells near her house.  She told how many times the bells tolled a day.  Saying.  "Many think the bells invite you to church, I think they are driving us away in droves.  When you are sick, resting, trying to concentrate on you home job, the bells, the BELLS prevent you.  Will the city or the church pay for one's mental health, will they cover the medicine?  Will they pay my salary?"  The woman asked the church to lower the volume and not shockingly, they started playing Amazing Grace at 8am  ....the radio guy laughed.  This woman is not following the Canadian stereotype to strive to just get along with everyone....."The Bells, The Bells!"  would make a horror flick with a woman pushed to the brink and then snapping becoming a murderer.....starting in the church....then if your cell phone goes off then it will be you.....the Christmas bell ringer at Canadian Tire....zap....the school kids in Music class....pow....what a movie!

And you thought Canadians were the nicest people.

Well....



Despite the many month wait to add this bird to the checklist, (can't count it yet, North American first), I'm drinking my beer now, because I earned it.  Lifer bird!!  It is happy hour at the airport as I'm already heading out to get back home, and I may be a little tipsy in my canoe....

 Cheers!

Olaf

Saturday, January 13, 2018

The Middle of Nowhere


I was in the veritable middle of nowhere.  It was cold, I was lost, and all there was around me was ice and snow covered flatness.  It could be said I was at the corner of Forgotten and Ignored.  Then I saw a sign as I cruised past Tache' township, Manitoba today.  It was a big sign, I really was in the middle of nowhere, here at the center of Canada ...apparently equidistant from Cape Spear Newfoundland  (which I had been to) and some place on Vancouver Island or British Columbia which I hadn't.

This place was overkill to a degree you rarely see, there were flags, more signs, stone markers, picnic sites, yet more signs, and informational plaque, then a second plaque.



But all told it was about as inviting as a cold windswept place devoid of vegetation could be and then I looked it up....this location is the center of much controversy....you see, it isn't the only place to lay such a claim....

This other place is well over a thousand miles away.  The people of Baker Lake, Nunavut, are proud of their coordinates: 64 degrees, 18 minutes, 41 seconds N and 96 degrees, 4 minutes, 8 seconds W. In 1951, someone bushwhacked through the forest on the periphery of town and hammered a sign into the dirt proclaiming, “Geographical centre of Canada.” Billboards at the airport and town hall, as well as the mantra on the town’s pamphlets and website, will not let anyone forget it. 

Their equivalent of the mayor, Denis Zettler was quoted as saying.  “We’re the centre, the core,” says Denis Zettler, the senior administrative officer of the 1,728-person town. “We’ve got the documentation. We all know it. Everybody knows it.”

Then in 2015, tens of thousands of dollars were spent in Manitoba for the above series of signs and a marketing campaign.  From Macleans Magazine, Baker Lake isn't the only other place making this claim.



Well, all I can say is .....Really?  This is that important?

The planned park is being built and can you imagine wi-fi hotspots here and a "meeting" spot?  I'd ask the local officials "what are you smoking?"  But since pot is legal here, we all know what is being smoked.  Wi-fi?  I don't even have a cell phone signal here.  At least in America, we haven't spent much of an effort on this, as the center of America is located out in the prairie in western South Dakota also in the middle of nowhere.



Luckily, it looks like all we've spent about 10 bucks on this piece of roadside Americana, nearby there is a pole and a FLAG out there. Even that looks used.  I can't find my picture of it, but trust me, it isn't worth the 22 mile one way trip north of Belle Fourche.  The farmer does warn online about rattlesnakes....but invites you to look around and enjoy yourself.  

So what the heck am I doing up here in Manitoba?
What else?  I am chasing birds...some I know, and like to find and others I want....sometimes you got to go left to go right, west to go south, or north to go east.

I cruised up to Roseau, Minnesota with the aim of hitting my favorite bog for owls....cause it was sort of on the way.  To get great grays you have to be there at first light so that meant I was hitting the road at 3am.  It was just a little brisk when I pulled into the home of Polaris snowmobiles.  I got to my spot and there was one, then another....


Great Gray owls at dawn....could anything be finer?  Then I looked at my thermometer...



It was cold outside....dang cold......-31F   (-34C)  and that was not windchill.  Burrr!!!.....I've birded up here at -36F, this is cold,  This bog in Lost river State Forest is probably routinely the coldest spot in the lower 48 states, it just doesn't have an official place to record the temperature...

Gosh my "flat tire" warnings all went on when I hit the bog.
then the Canadian Customs official looked at me when I told him what I was up to...."You came up to do what?"  Then..."You are heading where?"  



Here is a road to nowhere I drove on right after the border looking for Manitoba ticks. I'm facing south.  The trees at the end of the road are American trees, the deer standing in the road down there is in Canada, as where I am standing.  If it wasn't so cold, I may have tried to walk 50 feet into America, just to see what happened, but just the deer did...and nothing happened.

So, I'm sitting in a hotel in "The Peg" watching football; waiting for my morning flight out.  Where I'm off to?  A place that is is 50 degrees warmer than here, but that isn't saying much.....

Maybe I'll order room service...

Gosh, even the Eagles/ Falcons game looks warm by comparison, and for me, I'm just going from the Middle of nowhere to the center of nothing...and back again.

The fight for the Center of Canada..  Their out here spending $200,000 on this project so far, and now Baker Lake is starting to spend their own money, personally, I'm voting for the unnamed lake in Nunavut comes complete I hear with their own black flies....now there would be a place on everyone's to-do list, .The Center of Canada fight....who knew?

Don't forget your booties cause its cold out there....it's cold out there everyday

Olaf