Dreariness

 My, what a dreary week. We had rain, fog, mist, ice, drizzle, and gray skies even when there wasn’t any precipitation. The snow is melting slowly, which is good. We haven’t had any flooding around here. Yet.

The chicken run is a mud pit. I looked out of the kitchen window and saw all the hens on the windbreak, trying to keep their feet dry. It’s a photographic challenge. I took the picture through the kitchen window, screen and all, which is why it’s a crappy picture. But as soon as I open the garage door, all the hens line up by the gate, waiting for treats.

Man, this weather sucks.

One morning, I decided to wash all the cat blankets. Bingo was nonplussed. No sunshine to lie in for days, and now this. He crawled into the pillowcase of invisibility to wait for spring. Or supper. Whichever is first.

Grumpy Bingo in the Pillowcase of Invisibility

I took a walk in the rain Friday. It was the first time I’d been back to the creek since the big snow. It was slow going. The foot of snow was reduced to three inches of slush, which was, as the saying goes, slick as snot on a doorknob. I took short steps, keeping my weight over my feet and leaning on my walking stick. Deer tracks were everywhere. The fresher tracks had streaks where the hooves dragged through the snow.

Deer prints in the snow

The birch trees were surrounded by a circle of seeds.

Seeds in the snow

Some were bird-shaped birch seeds. Others were tiny ovals with wings. I don’t know what kind of seeds they were. I do not wonder that I pull tiny birch seedling out of the garden all summer long.

Birch (darker and bird-shaped) and unknown seeds

With the snow, ice, and winds, the river birch shed a lot of branches. Terry is already grousing about picking them all up.

Birch branches on the ground

Back at the creek, I was pleased to see that the creek bed was once again full of water, overflowing snow that was previously at the edge of the stream. I was also happy that the creek was not so high that it was in any danger of overflowing the banks.

Water in the creek. White streak under water is snow where the edge of the water used to be.

Not much evidence of animal activity back by the creek except for squirrels and the ubiquitous deer. These squirrel tracks were fresh enough that the little toes were still distinct.

Squirrel prints

On my way back across the field I saw the tracks of a small raptor. In the absence of blood, fur, or feathers, and the distinct talon prints, I inferred that this was a miss. The bird will have to try again.

A pounce that missed

Terry called my attention to a dozen cardinals under the feeder one evening. By the time I got my camera and got downstairs, it was getting dark, and the only picture that turned out was this one of Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal.

Cardinal pair at dinner

I hope we see the sun soon. I’ve forgotten what it looks like.