I was highly inefficient in the field today, while attempting to trap Clarabelle. I should know by now, but can you blame an English major for learning wildlife biology slowly? There are so many distractions, and so much nature imitating art out there, I have a hard time focusing on the practical stuff. It is nice to just sit in a sunny spot and think about poetry, or admire the shape of flight of a small songbird, to soak it in.
This one is simple, though: don’t sit on tick nests. I don’t even know if they have nests, but I sat down on the ground to fiddle with my radio antenna and soon got the creepy-crawlies. Tiny ticks all over my right pant leg, and my right arm. They return with the Indian Summer. Just when we’re enjoying the warm weather and last burst of sunlight, the nasty bits from summer return too; ticks and mosquitos.
I eventually found Clarabelle, but it was too late to set up the intricate tree trap; I had to have the boss’s truck back to him. Clarabelle has moved to the very northernmost tip of the island she’s on. I think she must have a nice view of the cranes. To get there I’ll either have to put on waders and float the sled with the trap, etc. through the marsh, or drag the sled through the shoulder-high alder and aspen. And once I get the trap set, there isn’t much reason for Clarabelle to descend, seeing as how the weather is balmy and she’s got all she needs to eat on the same branch. Maybe I’ll wait until next week.
The cranes were causing a ruckus out on the marsh. One broke the morning peace with a jarring garooo-ah-ah-ah (Peterson’s guide to birds) and then the rest set in, a group of 15 or so. I scared up a flock of mallards while scoping the Gallagher marsh for a good crane viewing site. Then I scared up a single male wood duck – I got quite close, in fact, while sliding down the edge of the dike to find a comfy observation seat. He seemed tired, because he didn’t get up and fly immediately. He noted me, then moved on, but not very far away. They are magnificent, and they look unreal, rather like something out of a Victorian storybook. Besides the dashing colors, they have decorative and elegant lines, as though they have themselves groomed by a professional. I bet they smell bad just like all wild things when you get up close.
I’m enjoying this warm spell, but this afternoon I sent e-mails of inquiry to local snowshoe companies requesting information about discounts for educational purposes. I got excited, as the good stuff is soon coming…
