Waking early to another cold morning here in Michigan, Katie and I wandered out to the backyard to fill the feeders. I knew the birds would be hungry. Katie waited up on the deck as I went down to get seed from our metal storage bin.
As I was pouring seed into a flat feeder several yards away a little chickadee dropped down to the rim of the bin, checking to see if there was anything good within reach. I waited quietly for him to decide. Noticing me, he flew up into a nearby tree to wait.
I slowly walked over and he hopped down a few branches. Watching.
I reached into the bin, grabbed a handful of oilers and offered them, hand outstretched, to him. He dropped down a couple more branches. I stood still.
From another encounter. This morning I had no camera and little light.
Closer, closer, he skipped from branch to branch, clearly fixated on the oilers in my hand. Inches away he considered how to get breakfast, but wasn’t quite brave enough to make that last hop.
I moved my hand closer to him. We were at eye level and he looked at me. I looked at him and moved my hand a fraction of an inch closer.
He stretched out and delicately chose an oiler from my palm, then hopped up to a higher branch to enjoy it.
I had a rendezvous with a chickadee this morning, and I liked it.
Now where was I? Ah yes, tramping around chilly Kensington Park one morning last week. I was checking out the herons on a dreary overcast day with spitting snow and drizzling cold rain.
Standing guard on a rainy morning.
And, as you know, I left the herons after a few minutes of attempting to get decent images in the low light and headed into the woods in hopes of finding skunk cabbage, a sure sign of spring here in lower Michigan.
Have a good walk lady! Don’t forget about us over here!
And of course I hoped to spend some time with my little birds too. Those chickadees and titmice and downy woodpeckers and nuthatches that hang around visitors begging for a snack.
A tiny little one waits in line for breakfast.
Since it was early, and the weather was bad I was probably the first person to venture into their woods that day. I knew the birds out on the boardwalk were hungry, they had already told me so. And the little ones back in the woods were ravenous too.
Just showing off my cuteness before I grab a peanut.
As I was being swarmed by a small cloud of birds I heard the sound of a red-bellied woodpecker high up in the trees. As I fed the little ones I watched him watch me.
I see you have breakfast bits. I’d like to place my order, please.
Down, down, down he moved. Slowly, from one tree to another, pretending he wasn’t interested in all the activity. Not interested in those luscious peanuts or succulent woodpecker suet balls in my outstretched hand.
I’ll take some, lady!
He even did a couple fly-overs, as he gaged the risk versus reward, but he couldn’t make himself land on my hand.
That’s OK, more for us if he stays away!
I waited patiently, camera held in one hand, the other outstretched filled with delicacies. Eventually my shoulders ached and I dropped a few treats on the ground and proceeded up the path and around a corner, intent on getting further into the woods.
I’ll sing for you lady, if I get one more treat before you leave!
He immediately dropped to the ground and gathered up his breakfast. I laughed and went on my way.
But just around the corner a new batch of birds waited for their snacks. I spent quite awhile there, photographing them in the branches and on the grasses near by, as they waited patiently for their turn for a treat.
Please notice how beautiful I am.
Then I heard it. The distinctive sound of the red-bellied, and there he was, just out of reach in a tree near my head. Once again I held out my hand, and once again he flew over but couldn’t trust me enough to land. And once again I tossed him a peanut or two and went on my way.
I finished my first course, do you have more?
Further into the woods a nuthatch was chattering loudly, and I stopped to give her a treat.
Don’t listen to him, lady. The rest of us are much more polite.
A bluejay showed up, and darned if that red-bellied wasn’t far behind.
Hey Mr Jay, pay attention, the lady has treats!
Sighing, I moved over a bridge to the other side of a wetland, one of my favorite places to stop and feed the birds. Several littles were waiting for me and you know who followed me over there too.
Hey, don’t forget about me!
As I was leaning over to put some seed on a bench for everyone to share I heard a gobble to my right. And there was a magnificent manly turkey, with his three wives strutting down the path.
Yes, you can admire my stunning colors. Everyone does.
He was so handsome that I pulled the camera away from Mr. Red-belly and focused it on the big boy showing off just feet away from me.
Thank you for giving us the right of way, lady.
Mr. Red-belly wasn’t having it and he dive bombed my head while I was looking toward the turkey. As the turkey harem moved on down the path I left my increasingly rude stalker with a few seeds and moved on in the other direction.
Hmmmm…what looks good this morning?
And that’s the way the rest of my walk went. Wherever I stopped to feed a hungry bird, the red-bellied and increasingly fat bird followed. I finally dropped a whole lot of treats on the ground and got away.
Everyone was hungry.
I think he followed me for at least an hour and more than half a mile. He never came to sit on my hand but he knew he didn’t have to. If he was just persistent he’d get a contactless treat.
Not all woodpeckers are so rude, lady. Thanks for the suet ball!
Though I describe him as a stalker and a pig, I actually smiled each time I’d hear his call. I’d look for him and there he’d be, a tree or two over from me, acting like he was entitled.
Even the deer thought he was a bit pushy.
I guess he was.
As I scurried away I heard a munching sound in the underbrush. What kind of bird was making a sound like that?
I found this all on my own! I don’t need handouts!
Ahh….the infamous little red squirrel bird. He never blinked as I stood and took his picture. This guy didn’t notice me either.
Well, hey. I found my own breakfast too. Those birds asking for handouts give us all a bad name.
Everybody was hungry that morning, and I realized I was too. No one was standing around offering me breakfast, so I decided it was time to head home and find something to eat.
I should probably say thank you, lady.
But wait! I was in the woods looking for skunk cabbage, looking for a sign that spring has indeed come to lower Michigan. Did I find any? Or was I too distracted by the bird drama swarming my head?
Skunk cabbage poking up from the swamp.
Well of course I found it. And it made me smile too.
I woke up this morning and watched my girl sleeping curled up in her bed at the foot of mine. These days I watch her breathing and feel grateful for another day.
Welcome to one of my parks!
She’s doing so well, we have her stabilized and she’s been good for several months now. She’s eating meals and doing her jobs regularly. Her poo passes the ‘looks normal’ test, and she’s drinking water on her own again.
It was a cool and windy day. Perfect.
I know she’s still in stage 4 kidney disease but you wouldn’t know by looking at her. What you will notice is she walks more stiffly, and her back legs give out if she tries to jump, or goes around a corner too fast.
This is my yard today!
I take her to her parks as often as I can, knowing that she loves to be out and about, especially in her woods, on her trails, checking under her picnic tables. Her ears don’t hear much anymore, and I suspect her eyesight isn’t perfect. But her nose works just fine.
And she’s a happy girl.
I love it out here, mama!
That’s the most important thing, that she’s happy.
She still barks at squirrels on her deck, at diesel trucks going by, at neighborhood dogs, at people walking on her street without a sheltie permit. She loves her meals, all five plus one late night snack of them. She still loves her walks through her neighborhood.
Let me at that snowball!
Two days ago I took her to one of her parks and we walked the earthen levy at the end of the lake. It was a windy day, no one was out there but us and she got to roam freely. She wasn’t at all ready to get back in the car when I was. She’d obviously dressed better for the adventure than me.
Something smells different about this snow!
This morning she received a special gift. It snowed. My Katie-girl loves snow. She loves it’s cold. She loves to eat it. She loves to chase a well thrown snowball. She loves everything about snow.
I can’t stop smiling!
We went on several walks today, and explored the backyard too. While out there I grabbed some pictures because in the back of my mind I wonder if this is her last snowfall.
My yard is looking good!
Not that she looks like she’s going anywhere just yet. But will she still be here next November or December when winter closes in on us again? Probably not.
Yep, I’m a happy girl.
So for now I toss her a snowball. I watch her twirl in happiness. And I take pictures to save the moment.
Our girl.
Because each day is a gift, and I’ll want to unwrap this one again some day.
I’ve heard the herons are back out at Kensington, I’ve even seen pictures on Michigan birding Facebook groups of them flying around repairing and remodeling their nests in preparation for this year’s branchers. (Did you know baby herons were called branchers? Me either, I had to look it up!)
Everybody claims their place in the neighborhood.
This morning, feeling restless, I decided to go out to see even though it was spitting snow and ice cold rain. But the forecast says it’s only going to get worse around here in the next week so I decided to just go this morning.
Bringing in additional building material.
I arrived at the nature center around 7:45, it was dark and dreary and there were no other cars, unusual in my experience. Apparently most photographers knew better than to even try. I worried that there wasn’t enough light for my long lens.
Coming in for a landing.
As I was standing on the boardwalk, struggling to capture the comings and goings at the heron rookery, I heard a very loud cry right next to my right elbow.
Hey lady!!!!
This guy was demanding breakfast. It kind of felt like I was still at home with a certain short fuzzy little girl. I stopped what I was doing and offered him a couple peanuts from my pocket. He eagerly jumped into my hand and scarfed them up.
Hurry up lady, I’m starving over here!
I had been wondering, on my drive to the park, whether the female blackbirds had arrived. And yes they have. At least one has. And she was disgruntled to be out there in the snow, so I gave her a few peanuts too.
What’s with the snow, lady? I expected spring would get here before I did!
I took a few more shots of the herons, vowing to come back some sunny morning, then headed into the woods. I was looking for skunk cabbage, a sure sign that it’s spring around here, even though it’s still snowing.
Nobody every gives me anything.
And of course I’d be visiting with my favorite little birds. I’ll share those with you in the next post.
We and our lady friend will wait right here until you come back, lady.
I can’t even believe I have to tattle on mama again. It’s not as if I haven’t discussed time management skills with her before. I even thought, these past couple of years, that she was finally getting the hang of paying attention to me and only me.
But she fell off the wagon yesterday.
Deuce and his little brother Ace on the shores of Lake Huron.
While I was home napping supervising my daddy she was off galivanting with other dogs. And worse, they were boy dogs! She can’t fool me, I might be old and deaf but my nose still works just fine!
I can’t believe it! Seriously, I am too old for these kinds of shenanigans. Mama should know better.
Ace is only 2, and he likes the water. Silly boy.
She says she thought about taking me but decided the drive would be too scary, what with how I shake when I have to go in the car these days. I told her that she’d shake too if the only place she ever got to go was the vet!
Deuce is 10 and smart, like me. We don’t like our feet getting damp.
So she said she was sorry, and she made me my supper and tickled my ears and tried to play lovey-dovey.
These guys will pose anywhere for a treat. I need to tell them about my one image, one treat clause.
But I told her there was only one way she could make it up to me, only one thing she could do to make me consider forgiving her this time.
Yep.
That’s how I got to go on a nice long walk with my mama in my park right after supper while the sun was setting.
You owed me mama, and you know it!
But shhhhhhh. Don’t tell mama, but I didn’t mind staying home all that much. I got lots of loving from my daddy and lots of naps and I didn’t miss a single meal either.
That was your one picture, mama, now lets get to walking.
What do you do when it’s a cold rainy day, when the rain never stops falling and everything seems to be grey and soggy? Well, you go out and take pictures! Of course.
So here’s the story of the tree branch…first noticed when I was taking Katie out on a walk up the street. I noticed the horizontal row of raindrops on the tree in our front yard. It looked interesting.
Hmmmmm, that could be interesting.
So when we got home I put her inside and grabbed the camera. Katie, of course, wanted to go back out too. Because if mama has her camera, surely Katie herself would be the subject. And there’s that one shot, one treat clause in her contract.
Silly girl.
Not quite what I was imagining.
I took her with me anyway, because she asked nicely, even though I knew it would be harder to capture those raindrops with her. And it was. Cars going by, sniffing, tugging on her leash, all of it caused me to stop doing what I was doing. Which was trying to focus on the drops of water.
I eventually just put her leash under my foot.
Still an especially noisy truck was coming, and I had to stop once again and pick her up, she squirming, me grumbling under my breath. Especially when I slipped in some poo that somehow I had missed while cleaning up the yard earlier in the day.
Yep, it wasn’t easy. But this is what I was looking for.
Our world, captured upside down in each drop.
For me, it was worth the soggy coat, soggy dog, poo on the shoe and cold rain down my neck. But I’m sure hoping for sunshine tomorrow.
I was participating in a group of truck crash families and survivors a few weeks ago and one of the topics that came up was foggy brain. Many of those in the group that day were brand new to the reality of coping with life after a traumatic event.
A local park, early this foggy morning.
A discussion about living in a never ending nightmare morphed into a discussion about foggy brains. How hard it was to concentrate. How the memory wasn’t as sharp as it once was.
I didn’t bring it up in the meeting, not to discourage any of the new families, but my dad died in a crash caused by a sleepy semi driver more than seventeen years ago, and my brain is more foggy today than it was way back then.
A sentinel stands strong in the fog.
On the other hand, I doubt my fog is related to Dad’s death. It might be menopause. It might be covid. It might be something else, still to be diagnosed.
Whatever it is, it’s tiring. I know from months, maybe years, of experience that I can’t remember anything that I don’t write down. And that often, if too much time goes by, I won’t know what I meant by the scribbles I find on random pieces of paper.
Trying to pick out the clarity amidst the fog.
I have never been able to remember people’s names. Now I can’t remember conversations, or finishing tasks, or whether or not I took the clothes out of the dryer.
For several days this week I couldn’t find the remote that moves our adjustable bed until it was found, out in the living room, on a table next to the sofa. I am constantly looking for my phone. And my shoes.
Sometimes it’s so hard to see.
More scary, I don’t always understand what people are saying. Not just the concept, but the actual words. Sometimes it all sounds like noise, with only an occasional word I recognize. Other times there are words but their combination doesn’t make sense to me. Lots of times, after the fact, I’ll figure it out, and usually it’s just words that sound like other words confusing me. Ah, I think, that’s what they meant.
Trying to focus.
Most of the time my confusion happens while watching tv, often while doing something else, and not concentrating on one thing or the other, and, as it turns out, not hearing with context.
But other times it happens when people are speaking live and I try to slow my brain down and concentrate. That often works, but sometimes I have to ask questions, where I risk appearing dense. Other times I just let it go. Pick your battles, that’s my rule.
Foggy brain. Is it age, life experiences, past traumatic events, illness, stress, or just a lack of concentration? I don’t know, but I’m beginning wondering if the drugs they’re peddling on television to forgetful seniors really work.
Walking through the fog.
And I’m wondering when I turned into a senior anyway. Looking back, it’s all turning into a foggy blur.
Ah yes. I went out to Kensington nearly a week ago to see if there were red-winged blackbirds singing there. I had one lone male visiting my feeder at home, but I hadn’t heard the early blackbird chorus that announces spring every year here in Southeast Michigan.
Not a blackbird.
But I got distracted, first by the turkeys and then by the redheaded woodpecker. Still….were there red-winged blackbirds here in Michigan, aside from the lonely guy at my feeder?
Can’t get over this guy.
I could hear a few, down another icy trail, and I hoped I didn’t have to go too far to gather proof. They were mostly far away, hiding in the cattails. They weren’t making much noise, and seemed a bit shy, or maybe they were just shell-shocked by the freezing temperatures and snow.
“I’m hungry, but I don’t know if I can trust that lady over there.”
One was walking up the path ahead of me. I thought maybe if I put some peanuts and oilers out I could coax him up into a more photogenic location.
“HEY! Hurry up you guys, she left us SNACKS!”
The longer I stood there the more blackbirds I saw, though none were brave enough to come get the treats I put out.
I’d appreciate a snack too, lady. My feet are cold.
Eventually they came closer, and ate some treats that I tossed near them. They even sang a little, but I know that later in the season they’ll be much happier to see me, once they figure out that the people visiting generally have food for them.
“If I don’t look at you, you’re not there. Right?”
So yes, spring has officially sprung in Southeast Michigan. The red-winged blackbirds are here, let the snow begin to melt!
Change Is Hard 