For my money, the Ed Millar Side Trail, off the Oak Ridges Moraine Trail, just north of King City, on Seneca College lands, is one the prettiest, short, public walks in all of King Township. Access is from Keele Street, about 100 metres north of King's 16th Sideroad. Even in mid-March, the trail beguiles. It helps, of course, when the temperature is 16C and the sun is shining. Below are some shots I took today.
A downed tree presents no real obstacle. Two cuts from a chain saw, roll the cut-section aside, and carry on.
This Seneca beaver pond is thawing and bubbling over the top of the dam. It looks like the beavers and the King Township Roads Department have reached a compromise on water levels. Keele Street isn't flooded and the beavers have not made any adjustments to the dam's height, in over a year.
The trail climbs along an elevated ridge that culminates with a pleasing contrast of very tall, slender, White Birches (some 70 to 80' tall) and a mass of dark Hemlocks. There is even a handful of Black Spruce, which are more common, much further north in the Boreal Forest, especially in boggy areas. If you look about here, you will see that this particular area is surrounded by many wet and boggy spots, including the beaver pond/swamp.
In a few weeks, this trail will be in its spring glory and it will be a reward for any walker with an hour for leisure. For the lucky ones who walk softly, the many ephemeral wet spots often are home here to Wood Ducks (spectacular sights in their right). One last trail note: there is parking for three or four vehicles, on the east side of Keele, where the stile climbs over the wire fence. Enjoy, BtheB
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Mar 18, 2010
Mar 15, 2010
Blackbirds are back
Please comment if you wish. BtheB
Mar 1, 2010
She's gone

Edith Muriel Wallace
February 27, 2010
Edith Muriel Wallace, of King City, 7 days after her 94th birthday, at King City Lodge Nursing Home. Wife of the late Emerson Wallace and dear mother of Barry Wallace (Linda) King City, Diane Wallace of Calgary, Denise Georgekish (Fred - deceased) Wemindji, Quebec, and Robert Wallace (Nancy) Parry Sound. Cremation has taken place and a private interment of Muriel and Emerson's ashes will take place, later this year, at the 6th Line Cemetery, Churchill, Ontario. Their ashes will join the remains of Muriel's parents, Sid and Alice Thomas, and her beloved Auntie Laura Thomas. Muriel was a 55-year resident of King City and active in her community. She was a Past President and first Life-time Member of Kingcrafts, a member of King City United Church, a singer in its choir and a CGIT leader. She was a blood donor for four decades, beginning during WWII. She will be remembered as a skilled and prize-winning quilter, a gifted arts and crafts person, and an avid collector of antiques, Canadiana, and collectibles. For many years, Muriel's handmade wildflower cards were collectors items themselves. And who can forget her homemade bread and all those 1st Place Fair Ribbons? While Muriel travelled throughout the United States, to Mexico and to Britain, she loved to travel in Canada most of all, and saw Canada from Vancouver Island to Newfoundland and north to James Bay. She revelled in Canadian Native culture, both as a collector and a lecturer in her own community. Muriel was one of seven children of Sidney and Alice Thomas, and is survived by three of her sisters: Audrey, Mabel and Jean. Muriel also leaves eight grandchildren and 15 great-grandchildren. Many thanks to Dr. Paul Randall and to Muriel's second family: the staff of King Lodge who cared for her so kindly and respectfully for the past 10 years.
Feb 18, 2010
Canoeing in February
Well, not exactly. But two recent trips to the Canadian Canoe Museum, in Peterborough, Ontario, have made my new, least-favourite month, February, almost bearable. One step inside the museum and one is transported to a state of mind that sighs of summers on the water, loons calling, and campfire smoke inducing leafy and rocky mirages.
My friend and neighbour, Mike 'Wood & Canvas' Ormsby, got me to re-visit the museum for the first time since it opened 13 years ago. Like many other people, Mike is my go-to-guy for all things about canoeing. He introduced me to museum General Manager, John Summers, and Curator, Jeremy Ward, who gave us a behind-the-scenes tour of the museum's huge separate storage facility where most of the collection's approximately 600 craft are stored (see photo above).
We had such a great time, we went back two weeks later for another go-around: this time meeting Professor Kirk Wipper, who founded the collection back in the 1950s. At 85, Kirk is still a volunteer resource person at the museum and a charming gentleman (see photo below). The Canadian Canoe Museum is the largest of its in the world and brilliantly uplifting for anyone with an interest in canoes. I can't recommend it highly enough and plan to go back in May to collect the canoe I'm planning to win with a fund-raising raffle ticket I purchased at the CCM. The canoe is being built as I write this blog and you can see it underway in the Rona Building Centre, adjacent to the museum on Monaghan Street in Peterborough.
Mike Ormsby and canoe legend, Kirk WipperMy least favourite month: February
I never knew I had a least favourite month, until this year. My friend, Pieter Thoenes, sent me a Daily Telegraph article by Horatio Clare who tries to make a case for February not being a miserable month. Mr. Clare quotes his godfather, a Welsh hill farmer, calling February a "little bugger of a month". Whereas his mother declares February as "crows-on-posts weather" and each one a hunched little angel of death, wishing illness and injury on every living thing, that they might take its eyes and tongue. Gosh, and I'd already forgiven Wiarton Willie for saying we were in for six more weeks of weather. The lyrical Mr. Clare suggests that February is the perfect time to heed the advice of Valentine and make a fire, cook some lamb chops, curl up under a fleece in the back of our cave and do what comes naturally, thereby producing a little Sagittarius in November or early December. Good Lord! That's why I feel the winter chill so much in my dotage. I was conceived in late February and born in early December (the 6th).
Actually, Horatio Clare has a wonderful command of the language and although he inadvertently prompted me to turn against February, most readers would probably be persuaded in the opposite direction. The website address is below. As friend Pieter puts it: "Barry, as a lover of our language, this is a beautiful article. Read, savour, enjoy!" Click on: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/weather/7258624/Snowdrops-in-flower-swallows-in-flight.html
Please comment if you wish
BtheB
Actually, Horatio Clare has a wonderful command of the language and although he inadvertently prompted me to turn against February, most readers would probably be persuaded in the opposite direction. The website address is below. As friend Pieter puts it: "Barry, as a lover of our language, this is a beautiful article. Read, savour, enjoy!" Click on: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/topics/weather/7258624/Snowdrops-in-flower-swallows-in-flight.html
Please comment if you wish
BtheB
Feb 8, 2010
No Redpolls or Siskins this winter
BtheB
Feb 2, 2010
Varied Thrush still at Cold Creek
BtheB
Jan 23, 2010
Prorogue this!
BtheB
Jan 13, 2010
Varied Thrush at Cold Creek
Jan 1, 2010
Act as if it was impossible to fail
My new year's greeting, in the headline above the photograph, was written by Dorothea Brande, American writer of the last century. I am starting 2010 with this thought in mind. I hope it motivates others who read it.
Dec 9, 2009
Charles Long ~ brewer's labourer
The photo at right shows the Old Malthouse in the village of Langton Matravers, in Dorset, England. It is a couple of kilometres from the English Channel and also that part of England's southern shore known as the Jurassic Coast. For the last 100 years or so, the Old Malthouse has served as a school, but before that it was a brewery, lived in and operated by Charles Chinchen Edmunds, a maltster and brewer. In 1881, in a cottage next to the Old Malthouse, lived the 75-year-old Charles Long, his 77-year-old wife, Betty, and their 26-year-old grandson, WilliamLong.Charles Long was my great-great-great grandfather and at age 75 he was employed by Charles Edmunds as as a brewer's labourer. My great-great-great grandmother, Betty Long, kept house, while my 1st cousin (3 times removed) William Long, worked as an agricultural carter. I came across this ancestral information, last night, while checking online 19th-century British censuses, as part of my ongoing research into family history. I thought it was somewhat interesting that I had discovered one of my great-great-great grandfathers worked in a brewery as it was just earlier this year that I switched from regular beer to non-alcoholic beer. I couldn't help but wonder if Charles Long turned over in his grave, a time or two, when I made the switch.
BtheB
Dec 1, 2009
First Snow Buntings arrive
It's December 1st and I photographed my first Snow Bunting of the season, today, in the Queensville Flats, north of Holland Landing and just south of Cook's Bay, on Lake Simcoe. There was a flock of about 50 of these pretty birds and I had a heck of time trying to get them to stay in one spot, long enough to take a picture. I didn't have a tripod for my telephoto lens, either. This one was at the back of the pack and kept looking over its shoulder as I followed it. There is some indication of its distinctive colour patterns and I'll get a much better shot in the near future, I hope.
BtheB
BtheB
Nov 29, 2009
Stumbleway of dysrationalia
I've always tried to walk a balanced path when it comes to the environment; protecting the planet on the one hand, while making a living on the other. I always felt during my lifetime that I was, more or less, in lock-step with successive national governments on the subject. Such a concensus was purely coincidental I thought, for I was no expert and the governments had experts aplenty. Now, with granchildren on my lap, I feel worlds apart from the Conservative stumbleway of dysrationalia that passes for a highway to health for our environment and economy. I see pragmatism as a useful tool for the daily coping of Canada's existence, but I lament that there seems to be no sensical vision or goals for a sustainable society on our increasingly fragile earthscape. I am baffled by our national leader's inability to think and behave in a rational manner despite adequate intelligence. It's like a bad dream. Surely, there's no mystery here and we, the people, can expect that leadership seeks goals based on evident reality. I want to wake up from this bad dream and learn that Mr. Harper has also awakened and is smelling the roses while there are still roses to smell.
BtheB
BtheB
Nov 28, 2009
Colder than a witch's heart
Here's a photo taken at Niagara Falls many decades ago. My better half, Linda, sent me this as part of an email which asks the question: "Who says there is no global warming?" Apparently, in 1911, Niagara Falls completely frozen over and people actually walked along the upper edge of the icy precipice. Colder than a witch's heart is how my granfather, Sid Thomas, would describe wintery scenes like the one above.BtheB
Nov 7, 2009
Another Don Flucker photo
It occured to me that the word sea is not common usage in the west. Westerners seem to call the Pacific an ocean, while easteners seem to refer to the Atlantic as the sea. Anybody out there who has lived on both coasts and can comment on this?
BtheB
Nov 5, 2009
B.C. bird photos by Don Flucker
These great photos were taken by Don Flucker of Ladner, British Columbia. Don and his wife live in a floating house, with a spiffy trawler tied up out front. They're near to the Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary, which sits on the edge of the Pacific, in the Fraser River delta, about an hour south of Vancouver. In addition to eagles, swans and ducks, Don sees lots of other neat species such as Sandhill Cranes and Snow Geese.
Don is a person I was acquainted with many decades ago, here in Ontario. I was reacquainted with him last week when his brother, Dave, still here in Ontario, emailed some of Don's bird pictures to me. I've since exchanged a few emails with Don and have discovered, among other things, that Don and his delta neighbours host 80,000 Snow Geese each winter! I had to admit to Don that my next Snow Goose sighting would be my first Snow Goose sighting. Don told me that he has sold several, large-format prints of the terrific eagle shot above. No kidding. I will share others if I'm lucky enough to have Don send some more my way.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB
Oct 26, 2009
Another new-camera photo
I was out today, shooting some pictures for a friend who is publishing a history book next year, and found myself at the Kortright Centre for Conservation, near Kleinburg. Although I didn't find what I was looking for in the way of pictures for my friend's book, I did take the photo above of the sugar shack at Kortright. I love my new camera, but have to admit that anyone with a camera could make this setting look beautiful.
BtheB
Oct 25, 2009
More new camera photos
Here are some backyard shots taken this weekend. The Fox Sparrows will be around for another week or so, while the Blue Jay I expect will be around all winter, especially if I keep stocking up the bird feeder with the 'Ultimate Mix' from The Maple Barn Store. My new telephoto zoom lens is so powerful that I'm having trouble getting the focus just right. Between my less than perfect eyes and the hip-hop behaviour of birds like the Chickadee and Red-breasted Nuthatch, it's a challenge to get that perfect shot. Ahhhh, but that's the challenge. Stay tuned in and we'll see what we can capture in the lens.
BtheB
Oct 21, 2009
New Camera
Say cheese, BtheB
Oct 12, 2009
Words that caught my Thanksgiving eye
Interesting words appeared on the front and back pages of the Life section in my Globe and Mail newspaper today. On the front page was a headline with these words from author, Michael Chabon: "A father is a man who fails every day". It was like a punch. I was sure I knew what Chabon meant without reading the story. In an interview with Dave McGinn he goes on to say the minimum behaviours for being a good dad are paying to raise your kids, paying for their upkeep, and sticking around. He goes on to say the most important part of being a dad is to just be there for your kids, what he calls emotional presence. He says he doesn't always meet the standard, but he tries. I like to think I tried to be there for my daughters, but there was always that "...nagging sense of inadequacy", as Chabon puts it. Hence, the every-day failure syndrome.
The other sobering words, on the back page of the Life section, were from Alfred D'Souza: "For a long time it has seemed to me that life was about to begin - Real Life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid - then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." Well, thanks for the insight, Alfred, but I hope this doesn't mean I have to give up dreaming.
Pictured below (photo by Auralee) are the grandkids, for which I am always thankful.
HappyThanksgiving and please comment if you wish.
BtheB
The other sobering words, on the back page of the Life section, were from Alfred D'Souza: "For a long time it has seemed to me that life was about to begin - Real Life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid - then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." Well, thanks for the insight, Alfred, but I hope this doesn't mean I have to give up dreaming.
Pictured below (photo by Auralee) are the grandkids, for which I am always thankful.
HappyThanksgiving and please comment if you wish.
BtheB
Aug 28, 2009
The Rage of Hurricane Bill
My good friends Mark and Deb, of Boutiliers Point, in Nova Scotia, have passed on photographic evidence of Hurricane Bill's rampage, last weekend, in their neck of the woods. Boutiliers Point is on the southern coast of Nova Scotia, about half way between Halifax and Chester. Mark and Deb and their two young sons live just a stone's throw from the ocean. None of them are native maritimers but they have lived there, for many a year now, and have a deep respect for the Atlantic and for what it can throw at the unwary. They were forewarned of Hurricane Bill, of course, and took the appropriate measures, as the huge storm roared up the east coast.
They were unscathed inside the house, but it was a different story outside. Below is an amazing photo of the front of their home, showing Hurricane Bill's impact. Some people are just damned lucky, I guess. Please comment if you wish.
BtheB
They were unscathed inside the house, but it was a different story outside. Below is an amazing photo of the front of their home, showing Hurricane Bill's impact. Some people are just damned lucky, I guess. Please comment if you wish.
BtheB
Jul 6, 2009
Riding the rails in Vivian Forest
They have two open houses each summer when the public is welcomed to come and ride. They are the weekends after Canada Day and Labour Day. You can also visit Sunday afternoons from May to October, between 1-3 p.m., to view the goings-on, and if you're lucky, you may be allowed to ride also, but no guarantees. If you've got kids, mark Sept. 12 & 13 on your calendar right now. That's the next Open House for the Richmond Hill Live Steamers. I noticed on my calendar, the 13 of September is also, officially, GRANDPARENTS DAY in Canada. Have fun and maybe I'll see you there.
BtheB
Jun 21, 2009
Farewell Jokers Hill
This then is King's roof
Jokers Hill crowns the moraine
10,000 years young
Jokers Hill crowns the moraine
10,000 years young
My six months as a student ,in the Naturalist Training Program, at the U of T's Koffler Scientific Reserve, on Jokers Hill in King Township, has come to end. The photo and haiku, shown above, appear together on the last page of a photo-journal I kept between January and June of this year. I made a copy of the journal, which has over 80 photos, for each of my classmates, plus the director and associate director of the Koffler Scientific Reserve. Each time I look through it now, I have a pang of regret that this special time in my life has come to an end. My professor, Ivana, and my 19 classmates, were so enthusiastic that I could barely wait for each class to roll around. We all became friends in a setting, on top of the Oak Ridges Moraine, that has few rivals in York Region. Below are a few other pictures from my photo-journal highlighting the lush rolling realm that is KSR at Jokers Hill.
Jun 13, 2009
3-year-old granddaughter admonishes me
Harrumph! So, not only is my memory failing but I'm not that bright either. That's Emmy, in the photo above, admonishing me. I actually bought two donuts at Timmy's, because I knew I couldn't hand Emmy a donut and not have one for for her sister Brawley. As it turned out, Emmy shared her donut with her sister and gave the other one to her dad. Me? I went home, chuckling to myself, and had a peanut butter sandwich. Please comment if you wish.
BtheB
May 26, 2009
Fuchsia Rodent
BtheB
May 25, 2009
Dirty Bird Joke
Off-colour jokes, with a birding theme, are not so easy to find. Sometimes, you have to depend on friends. My friend, Pieter, the Squire of Toad Hill, in the Mulmur Hills, sent this candidate along today.
I took my 92-year-old dad to the mall to buy some new shoes. We decided to grab a bite at the food court. I noticed he was watching a teenager sitting next to him. The teenager had spiked hair in all different colours: green, red, orange, and blue. My dad kept staring at him. The teenager would look over and find him staring every time.
When the teenager had had enough, he sarcastically asked: "What's the matter old man, never done anything wild in your life?" I quickly swallowed my food so that I would not choke on his response, knowing he would have a good one, and in classic style he did not disappoint.
"Got drunk once and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son?"
BtheB
I took my 92-year-old dad to the mall to buy some new shoes. We decided to grab a bite at the food court. I noticed he was watching a teenager sitting next to him. The teenager had spiked hair in all different colours: green, red, orange, and blue. My dad kept staring at him. The teenager would look over and find him staring every time.
When the teenager had had enough, he sarcastically asked: "What's the matter old man, never done anything wild in your life?" I quickly swallowed my food so that I would not choke on his response, knowing he would have a good one, and in classic style he did not disappoint.
"Got drunk once and had sex with a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my son?"
BtheB
May 20, 2009
Archaeologist for a day
#1. Walking back and forth, bent over, across farm fields, for hours at a time is a back-breaking pastime.]
#2. You have to be very, very patient to be an archaeologist (45 man-hours produced one arrowhead). Plus there was lot of pre and post-activity involved by the TRCA folks.
Was it worth it? As a first-time experience it was very interesting; mainly because there was a lot of information exchanged. King Township has largely been overlooked, archaeologically, among Greater Toronto Area municipalities. The Royal Ontario Museum did numerous digs in King, decades ago, but the sites were never officially registered. And the fate and whereabouts of the ROM's artefacts, from those digs, is questionable. There's even a suggestion that they may even have been put out with the trash - inadvertently.
But the situation is changing. With ever increasing development pressures on King Township, organizations, like the TRCA, are trying to leap into the breach when it comes to the study of King's human history and prehistory. Can you dig it? Well. if local archaeology sounds like something you may be interested in, go to http://www.trca.on.ca/ and click on the Claremont Archaeology Festival icon to find out about TRCA's first-ever archaeology festival on June 7. You and your family can just be observers or you can actually help in the excavation of the remains of an 1870s era blacksmith's homestead.
As for me, I heading to bed early tonight, to rest these weary bones.
BtheB
May 16, 2009
Backyard warblers keep dropping in
Three more warblers have shown up in the cedar hedge in the backyard. Connecticut, Tennessee and Bay-breasted Warblers all dropped in this afternoon after a rainfall. They had all been brought to ground by the rain, just like the other warblers noticed in the last couple of weeks. This spring is turning out be quite productive for backyard warblers and Linda and I are loving it. All three internet photos, above, were taken by a fellow named Brian E. Small.
BtheB
May 13, 2009
Birds to booze - I answer the call
The word went out. Volunteers were needed to assist the Toronto Police Services. Were Tamils running amok? Point duty at some intersection where the traffic lights were out? Did cruisers need washing? Coffee and donuts, somewhere? No, none of the above. A few community-minded individuals were needed, however, to imbibe enough alcohol, as to make themselves intoxicated to the point where police officers, in training, could readily recognize an inebriate, even when the inebriate was well beyond being able to do so himself, or herself.
With no selfish thought for myself, I appeared at the designated time and place, to do my duty. I was filled with civic pride. Being full of emotion was quickly replaced by being full of a pleasant-enough Sangiovese. Sangiovese gets its name from the Latin 'sanguis Jovis', (the blood of Jove). Jove, or Jupiter, according to Roman mythology, was the king of the gods. As my grandchildren call me Grandpa Jupiter, or approximations thereof, such as Jupa and Goonda, I felt things were off to auspicious start. I felt the Blood of Jove also set me slightly apart and above the other participants, who had chosen to relegate themselves to beer and that mean spirit, Vodka.
I learned that drinking 40 ozs. of red wine, over the course of two hours, takes away any sense of auspiciousness, much less a sense of balance. I did not fall over, however, and was cheery and cooperative throughout the testing that followed. I was asked to walk a straight line, hands at my sides, toe to heel, turn around and return to my starting point. I was asked to stand, hands at my sides, on one foot, with the other foot held out in front of me and count to 30. I was also asked to touch the top of a pen, held 12" from my nose, and then, without moving my head, to follow the pen, with my eyes, as it was swept from side to side, in front of me. Apparently, I failed every test and was declared "arrestable"on all the scoresheets. I was asked if I thought I could drive an automobile at that point. I said no. At least, I got that part right.
Late in the day, I was delivered by a police constable into the hands of my son-in-law, Hector, who saw that I safely got home. As I walked away from the experience, I thought about getting intoxicated, free, right under the noses of the cops, without be charged with anything. Part of it had been great fun. My ex-boss, Murray, who had recruited me for this affair, and I had laughed our heads off at several points. But there is just no ending this blog on a humourous note. Getting drunk like this was sobering. The kind of testing I was put through has been standard practice in the U.S.A. for years, and it is now coming to Canada. It's one more tool for police officers to use in the fight against drinking and driving.
My retirement is full of lessons, and this was one of the serious ones. I missed a day of monitoring birdboxes at Cold Creek Forest and Wildlife Centre on this day, but I have a new appreciation for how lucky I am to have the opportunity to enjoy another day.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB
With no selfish thought for myself, I appeared at the designated time and place, to do my duty. I was filled with civic pride. Being full of emotion was quickly replaced by being full of a pleasant-enough Sangiovese. Sangiovese gets its name from the Latin 'sanguis Jovis', (the blood of Jove). Jove, or Jupiter, according to Roman mythology, was the king of the gods. As my grandchildren call me Grandpa Jupiter, or approximations thereof, such as Jupa and Goonda, I felt things were off to auspicious start. I felt the Blood of Jove also set me slightly apart and above the other participants, who had chosen to relegate themselves to beer and that mean spirit, Vodka.
I learned that drinking 40 ozs. of red wine, over the course of two hours, takes away any sense of auspiciousness, much less a sense of balance. I did not fall over, however, and was cheery and cooperative throughout the testing that followed. I was asked to walk a straight line, hands at my sides, toe to heel, turn around and return to my starting point. I was asked to stand, hands at my sides, on one foot, with the other foot held out in front of me and count to 30. I was also asked to touch the top of a pen, held 12" from my nose, and then, without moving my head, to follow the pen, with my eyes, as it was swept from side to side, in front of me. Apparently, I failed every test and was declared "arrestable"on all the scoresheets. I was asked if I thought I could drive an automobile at that point. I said no. At least, I got that part right.
Late in the day, I was delivered by a police constable into the hands of my son-in-law, Hector, who saw that I safely got home. As I walked away from the experience, I thought about getting intoxicated, free, right under the noses of the cops, without be charged with anything. Part of it had been great fun. My ex-boss, Murray, who had recruited me for this affair, and I had laughed our heads off at several points. But there is just no ending this blog on a humourous note. Getting drunk like this was sobering. The kind of testing I was put through has been standard practice in the U.S.A. for years, and it is now coming to Canada. It's one more tool for police officers to use in the fight against drinking and driving.
My retirement is full of lessons, and this was one of the serious ones. I missed a day of monitoring birdboxes at Cold Creek Forest and Wildlife Centre on this day, but I have a new appreciation for how lucky I am to have the opportunity to enjoy another day.
Please comment if you wish.
BtheB
Apr 10, 2009
Mark Peck knows his woodcocks
I'm really liking this course. BtheB
Mar 29, 2009
First time in Jamaica
One of the hawkers, on a nearby beach, was an middle-age lady named Gloria. I paid her to sit down with Linda and I, for a few minutes in her little shack, and to briefly tell us her story. It was an eye-opener and I admired her determination to provide for a family of 10 children as a single-parent. It was the best 20 bucks I spent all week.
Two of the 11 'lifer' birds I saw were hummingbirds: the Jamaican Mango and the Vervain Hummingbird. The one hummingbird I especially hoped to see was the Streamer Tail, known locally as the 'Long-tailed Doctor Bird' and, by most estimations, the most spectacular West Indian hummingbird (see attached internet photo below). It's green and black body is only 4.25" long but it has two long, black, streamer feathers which emit a whirring sound in flight. It is the most abundant and widespread bird in Jamaica, and yet, I failed to see it. Oh well, it's just one of a number of reasons to re-visit this lovely island one day, hopefully.
BtheB
Mar 14, 2009
Horsing around with grandkids
The Hughes farm has been in the family since 1828 (181 years)! They currently have 17 Belgians, including 2 stallions, and expect 6 more foals this year, in addition to the little (??) guy above. William and Emmy found a perch, on top of some hay bales, in the 159-year-old barn, to take in the proceedings. I love this time of year.
BtheB
Mar 3, 2009
Feb 19, 2009
Mice in the treetops
White-footed Mice are excellent tree climbers (great swimmers, too). I was surprised to learn they will spend the winter in covered-over, abandoned bird nests, high in hardwood trees, or in tree cavities when they occur. Although they can enter a state of torpor for several hours, they do not go into true hibernation and therefore they cache food in the fall for the winter. The little guy above had stored several acorns into the tree box, from which Monika had pulled him. These tree boxes in the Koffler Scientific Reserve, at Jokers Hill in King Township, are artificial nests which make scientific observation of the mice much easier for researchers and students.
These mice usually eat at night and their diet consists of nuts, seeds, berries, grains, fruits, fungi and insects.
Maybe in another 10 million years, these little creatures will evolve to have wings and they'll fly around in the treetops, as well as nest there. Who knows? We do have flying squirrels, right?
BtheB
Feb 13, 2009
Talking dirty
My friend, Pieter, at Toad Hill, near Mansfield in the Mulmur Hills, recently e-mailed me a fascinating, albeit lengthy, piece entitled: "The Origin & Common Usage of British Swear-words". It was very informative and somewhat titillating. I won't post it here, but it does start with this warning: "This entry discusses the etymology and application of a selection of words that, to varying degrees, can be considered vulgar and offensive. As a necessity, this entails the use of said words, and it is strongly advised that, should you find such words distressing or inappropriate, you do not read on beyond this point". Well, that stopped me dead in my tracks. Yeah, sure it did!
It went on dredging up many old and new, rude and crude words, names and phrases. Many of them referred to body parts and body functions. It was all very educational and I was familiar with one or two of the terms. I did have an ever-so-slightly queasy feeling at the end of it, but felt I should reply to Pieter's generous sharing of the information.
I sent him the following haiku, and directed him especially to an acronymical riddle in the third line. You, dear reader, are invited to solve the riddle also. And for those of you who need the benefit of academic research to solve the riddle, I direct you to http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A753527 .
It went on dredging up many old and new, rude and crude words, names and phrases. Many of them referred to body parts and body functions. It was all very educational and I was familiar with one or two of the terms. I did have an ever-so-slightly queasy feeling at the end of it, but felt I should reply to Pieter's generous sharing of the information.
I sent him the following haiku, and directed him especially to an acronymical riddle in the third line. You, dear reader, are invited to solve the riddle also. And for those of you who need the benefit of academic research to solve the riddle, I direct you to http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A753527 .
Scatolinguistics
Sometimes takes my breath away
Swearing has its tangs
Please comment, if you wish.
BtheB
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