Life On a Lake 

Dedicated to the Joys of Waterside Living

 
Frozen enough for dogs to run on, anyway

Followed by a thaw and spectacular sunset

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We've had some weather lately, let me tell you. First a hard freeze, then a precisely predicted six inches of snow. The lake was covered with ice and then snow. This was followed by a quick thaw and a sensational sunset that was over so quickly that, I'm sure, many missed it. And now today we are back to drab normality. That is a gray reality and a lake that dogs can no longer run on and is by degrees giving up its mush and ice flows.

Life on a lake has its multiple benefits. Just think, in less than two months I will have a good chance to catch a few holdover rainbow trout, that is, if this year follows the trend established by past years.

Note that the maples and rhododendrons have  long been budded. They seem anxious to pop out. Of course this is merely the "pathetic fallacy" at work. I imagine all of the above.

Oregon junco

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Poet Bill Stafford, one of my favorites, wrote a short poem about the junco. (The full name, Oregon junco, was perhaps redundant to him, since ever coming from Kansas he lived and taught and wrote in that state.)

Juncos

They operate from elsewhere,
Some hall in the mountains--
quick visit, gone.
Specialists on branch ends,
craft union. I like
their clean little coveralls.

Nice. And not to quibble, but it doesn't seem to me "coveralls" is quite right. At first I thought "bibs" might be better. Then "somber hoods."

"Surplice" might be the better word. More precise. Anyhow, the coveralls are black. (See picture above.) And the part about "specialists on branch ends" is  just right. Whatever, the porches and feeders are full of them.

Incidentally, the frozen lake is covered with inches of snow;  how many inches is yet to be determined, since it is snowing hard, the distance across the lake obscured, and all human traffic ground to a  halt. But all very pretty, what I can see of it.

Snow (if nothing else) is white and inhuman.

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FAST FROZEN

See that group of ducks in the foreground? Mostly mallards. See their little feet? Most unusual. The lake is frozen and has been for several days now. I think I reported a first of the year duck count and the lake was about half-frozen then. The ducks still had places that would float them. No more.

The ice is thicker than it appears, yet I would not go for your ice skates just yet. Not unless you happen to be a polar- bear swimmer. The water near shore has that pretty frozen bubble look, surrounded by white, opaque ice. And there are a few tiny pockets of water near shore. Here the songbirds congregate, when they are not at our feeders.

Norma left out a sauce of water for them, but so far they have ignored it. But they will empty out all the feeders in a couple of days. (I am thinking of adding them to my income tax returns as dependents. But will the IRS accept several hundred dependents, even though the bills for birdseed are eye-raising.) 

They are not as interesting to inventory for me as the ducks are. With them I add or subtract a species temporarily every day or so. I don't expect the green-winged teal back this year, but I'd like to see the ringnecked ducks again. (And why did they name them that, when the ring is clearly around the tip of the duck's beak? His neck is unmarked, so far as I can see. They don't permit me to get close enough to be absolutely sure.)

Oregon juncos dominate the feeder and happily trade places with members of their copious tribe after one has had only a seed or two. The bigger the bird and its species, they more they will send away the others. Juncos are small, smaller than the tohee, but not so big as the Stellar jay. And when a crow comes to the feeder, the others go flying.

Maybe it is the crow's bad rep that precedes him, I don't know.  And overhead, circling on wide wings and taking up short roots in Jane Hillary's tree opposite, is a mature bald eagle. They are becoming resident in most of the lowland lakes around here, I hear from the crow grapevine.

It is nice to have our own, and I see this one often enough that I've mapped out his flight path and know which tall cedars and hemlocks he is most apt to take up roost in.

Rarely am I wrong..

"Fish Gotta Swim, Birds Gotta Fly," and Ducks Gotta Swim, Too

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About half the lake is covered with ice, but most of the snow is gone. I've never seen so many ducks of so many different species!

There a couple of nearby ponds that must be solid ice, and their birds are driven to the lake because of its open water. That water has been greatly reduced and many species now find themselves in juxtaposition (if not in proximity).

New Year's Day is a conventional time for a bird (and duck) inventory. I tend to ignore the songbirds, even though they are at hand by our multiple (5) feeders. I love ducks--am half duck myself.

Hence, inventory, and I warn it is not complete because some species of ducks are inordinately shy. And, yes, today we have four such birds present that leaves me in astonished delight.

Four green-winged teal! Paul Smoockler says that, not only are they shy, they are secretive. I agree. It is not a fine distinction. But since the lake has less than half its ordinary component of water, even the teal are forced to be nearer to other ducks (not to mention humans, which I just did) than they would like to be.

Likewise the hooded mergansers, of which there are also two pair. Brilliant fore-striped ducks, they loom out of obscurity and announce their presence as though luminous. They are divers and feed on fish and crustaceans, while the teal are surface feeders and eat seeds and weeds.

A flock of 17 American widgeons (one of my most favorite ducks) flew in a few of days ago. First there were an even dozen, but were joined by a smaller flock a couple of days ago and quickly bonded, as species will do. Generally the females dominate and seek each other's company. They will not pair up until nearly spring.

A baker's dozen of mallards, looking huge in comparison with most other ducks; three pied-billed grebes (but I know there are more); a lonely-looking ring-necked duck; about 15 double-tufted cormorants, looking snooty.

A couple of gadwalls of each sex; and not today but yesterday, or the day before, a small flock of  lesser scaups, plus resident winter buffleheads that practice female-gender hegemony. The couple of males are clear down at the other end of the lake.

I'm sure this is not all of the species present, but all ere carefully surveyed while in my bathrobe, a morning cup of  coffee in my hand.

Eat your heart our, Audubon. And a Happy New Year, all you Bloggers.