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Travels With Maggie: The babies have hatched

July 3, 2010 by Pat Bean

Hungry mouths

Growing a little

Photos by Pat Bean  

“It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.” C. S. Lewis

From helpless and naked to spouting feathers for flying in only two weeks at Farragut State Park

"Mama we're hungry"

The good-mother robin I’ve been watching the past few weeks is now raising three chicks. The first time I visited her after they had hatched, she dive-bombed me. After quickly snapping a photo I left the scene. The second time I came, she sat on a tiny tree four feet from the nest and gave me a concerned, dirty look. The third time, she sat on the same tree, but seemed more peaceful.

Her growing chicks mouths were about all I could see at first. The birds are born naked and helpless, depending completely on their parents for warmth and nourishment. They now have feathers and look almost ready to leave the nest, a process that takes only about 13 days. It’s been an awesome joy daily watching this transformation.

I suspect this is my mother robin’s second brood of the year. When I first discovered her nest a fallen portion of an earlier nest beneath it contained remains of an empty egg shell that appeared to have hatched. Robins can raise three broods in a good year, and can live up to 14 years – if Mother Nature is kind to them.

It's getting a bit crowded in the nest

Most, however, don’t survive beyond about 7 years, and only about 40 percent of chicks reach adulthood. Magpies find baby robins quite tasty, as do snakes, cats and many other predators.

Considering this mother robin’s attentive care, I suspect her babies may have a higher percentage rate. And whether that’s true or not, the optimist in me will continue to believe it to be so.

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Travels With Maggie: Animals Outside My Window

June 28, 2010 by Pat Bean

A rabbit quietly sits near my RV ... Photo by Pat Bean

 “Forever is composed of nows.” Emily Dickinson 

White-tailed deer ... Photo by Pat Bean

Animal life here at Farragut State Park goes about its daily passage of time in view of My RV window. I watch a constant stream of rabbits hopping among the shadows of the trees, noisy squirrels chattering as they scamper on the branches above, mourning doves and dark-eyed juncos picking at the bird seed I scattered, colorful butterflies flitting by, a black-chinned hummingbird drinking from my small nectar feeder, and an occasional deer sauntering through the woods. 

My heart welcomes such sights and I ask myself why these simple animals give me so much pleasure. I pondered this for a long time before deciding there was no simple answer. 

Their lives speak of freedom to me, yet I know these animals have things to fear: Raptors and coyotes ever looking for a meal, hunters with guns, and even Mother Nature herself when she decides to stage a stormy tantrum. 

The alarm call of chickadees when a sharp-shinned hawk is nearby, the fake injury performance of a killdeer to lead predators away from its chicks, the quick scampering away of rabbits at the slightest noise and the cautious look around before a deer abandons the safety of the forest tells me these animals are not unaware of the dangers. 

Is this so different from the anxiety and stress humans have for finding a job, feeding their families, securing a roof over their heads, and for me these days, worrying about a loved one soon to be deployed to Afghanistan. Mother Nature even taunts us with hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes and floods. 

I guess life wasn’t meant to be easy. We probably wouldn’t appreciate it if it was. 

A butterfly briefly settles ... Photo by at Bean

Watching animals live their life outside my window puts me in the moment. And perhaps this is the best reason of all of why I enjoy doing it so much. We can’t change what happened yesterday, and worrying about tomorrow is useless – unless we’re actually doing something to make tomorrow better, and the only way we can do that is to live in the moment. 

 The animals going about their daily business in sight of my RV window remind me of this. And for that I’m thankful.

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Travels With Maggie: One Robin Trusts, One Robin Doesn’t

June 25, 2010 by Pat Bean

“You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough. — Frank Crane

The faithful, trusting robin ... Photo by Pat Bean

It’s magic. I’m standing eye-to-eye, three feet away from a robin sitting on a nest. She’s looking straight at me and I’m talking to her quietly. “And how’s the good mother this morning. What a good mother you’re going to make.”

She stares back at me, hopefully understanding that my heart wants only the best for her. The trust I see in her eyes tells me she at least understands I mean her no harm. I’d like to know how many tiny blue eggs she’s sitting on, but I’ve never seen her nest untended. To get any closer I believe would destroy our human-bird relationship. So I patiently wait for the day when I can count hungry gaping mouths. That’s assuming of course, the eggs are successfully hatched.

It’s the fourth morning in a row that I’ve visited this faithful mother-to-be. Her nest sits on a three-inch brick ledge on the side of the Visitor Center at Farragut State Park near Couer d’Alene, Idaho. Another robin has a nest on a ledge on the back side of the building. She flies away at the first sight of me coming around the corner 30 feet away. I see fear in her eyes as she watches me from the top of a nearby tree. I stay away from her nest. I don’t want to worry her more.

I wonder why she fears me so and why the other robin is more trusting. What different lives they must have led, I think as I reflect on my own life. I don’t give my trust easily or often. Life taught me not to do so.

Meanwhile, I’ve told no one here at the park the location of my trusting robin’s nest. But its easily seen and accessible ledge offers it little protection. All I can do is hope others who spot it are worthy of the same trust the robin gives me. I also hope one day to share a picture of tiny robins sharing a nest that sits on a brick ledge.

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Travels With Maggie: Neither Rain Nor Cough Kept the Birds Away

June 19, 2010 by Pat Bean

 

Red-breasted nuthatch ... Wikipedia photo

“To feel keenly the poetry of a morning’s roses, one has to have just escaped from the claws of this vulture which we call sickness.” Henri Frederic Amiel.

Farragut State Park

My arrival at Farragut State Park, a former naval base where nearly 300,000 sailors were trained during World War II was greeted by rain, more rain and then bronchial sickness. For two weeks straight, neither the rain nor my cough let up. Here I was in the beautiful Idaho Panhandle, my RV sitting in the middle of a majestic Douglas Fir and Ponderosa Pine grove, and all I could do was stare out the window at it. I didn’t even have Internet which, by the way, is the reason my normal Monday and Friday blogs have been irregular lately.

Thank goodness I at least had birds to keep me company. The morning after my arrival, before I got sick, I had put out bird seed and a hummingbird feeder. It didn’t take my feathered friends long to find the resources. The robins and dark-eyed juncos, both ground feeders, arrived first. A Black-chinned hummingbird claimed the hanging nectar.  Then came the chickadees, both chestnut-backed and mountain species.  They dee-dee-deed for me as they flittered among the trees every time the rain let up for a little bit.

Mourning doves then showed up, as did western bluebirds and a tree-clinging red-breasted nuthatch that nimbly went up and down the trunk of the fir tree closest to my motor home. It was my favorite.

But today, the sun is out and my cough is gone. So if you’ll excuse me, after posting this blog from Ralph’s Cafe in Bayview that sits just outside the park, I’m going to go for a hike. The vulture of sickness has flown away.

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Travels With Maggie: Make That Two Eagles to Go For the Road

June 13, 2010 by Pat Bean

“There is an eagle in me that wants to soar, and there is a hippopotamus in me that wants to wallow in the mud.” — Carl Sandburg

Although I saw no bear or fish, this majestic sculpture I left behind in Salmon, Idaho, was a fair representation of the wild and mostly secluded landscape my journey took me on this day. -- Photo by Pat Bean

My drive the next day was awesome. Not only did it take me through spectacular scenery it treated me to the sight of two bald eagles soaring against a cliff backdrop that heightened the details of their flight. Two adults, white heads glistening in the sunlight, flew before me, their magnificent wings stretched out gathering in the wind.

I understand the reasoning of Ben Franklin, who wanted the turkey to be this country’s national emblem because the bald eagle is a scavenging thief. But had he, I wondered, ever seen their majesty as I had this day. Not even the day I counted 149 bald eagles sitting around on the ice and in trees at Farmington Bay in Utah a half dozen years ago could compare.

The sighting came outside of Missoula, Montana, on Highway 90 through the Lolo National Forest.

Earlier in the day, I had driven for a ways along the Salmon River, bringing to the forefront grand memories of a raft trip I had taken down it through the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness Area. While I’m always reminding myself to live in the present and not the past, these memories, I decided, were part of this day and it was right to acknowledge them.

Leaving the Salmon River behind, I entered the Bitterroot National Forest and its poetic inspiring landscape.  Winding rivers, snow-capped mountains, roadside deer, purple, blue and yellow wildflowers. The entire 140-miles from Salmon to Missoula on Highway 93 were designated scenic byways.

Normally I would have stopped in Missoula, but storms were predicted for the next day and so I drove on, intending to reach my destination at Farragut State Park in the Idaho Panhandle, still almost 200 miles away by mid-afternoon. While it was indeed a long day’s drive for me, the sight of the eagles had vanished any weariness. It was as if I had a pair of bald eagles cheering me on the entire rest of the journey.

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Travels With Maggie: Who Hit the Replay Button

June 3, 2010 by Pat Bean

 “The trouble with weather forecasting is that it’s right too often for us to ignore it and wrong too often for us to rely on it.” — Patrick Young

Snow was plentiful on my journey up and over 8,700-foot Galena Pass, but thankfully the roadway was dry. ... Photo by Pat Bean

Dodging Storms

After leaving Lake Walcott, my travels took me up Highway 75 to Ketchum, which sits in full view of the awesomely ragged Sawtooth Mountains. I checked into the Meadows RV Park on the outskirts of town for one night, expecting to travel on the next morning. I awoke, however, to four inches of snow on the ground beside my RV.

Staying in Ketchum had more appeal to me than meandering on down the road, so that’s exactly what I did.

The next morning, thankfully, I awoke to a clear sky, which soon had me packing up my RV. These pre-road chores include unhooking water and electricity land connections, kicking the tires and walking around the RV on the outside, then making sure everything is in its proper confined space on the inside. The last thing I looked around for was my coffee cup. It’s been know to escape my attention and the result isn’t pretty.

My grand drive this day took me up and over 8,700-foot Galena Pass. I saw plenty of snow along the way, but thankfully none of it was on the road. Arriving early afternoon in Salmon, the gateway for rafters going down “The River of No Return,” I decided to treat myself to a late lunch in a restaurant.

Bertram’s Pub and Brewery looked the most inviting. It was a good choice,I decided as I drank down the last swallow of the dark, award-winning Sacajaweja beer I had ordered to go with my Belly Buster hamburger, two thirds of which went back to the RV with me in a doggie bag. Maggie did get a bite, but the burger also made a filling dinner for me.

The Salmon River, also known as "The River of No Return." For the record, one can return up it. I did. After a five-day white-water rafting trip, a jet boat took two hours to return me to my starting point at Corn Creek near Salmon. ... Photo by Pat Bean

I awoke the next morning to rain, and a forecast of snow about 5,000 feet. Some of the passes I needed to cross were above 7,000 feet. I decided it was yet another good day to stay put here at Salmon’s Century RV Park. And so I did, feeling as if someone had hit the replay button.

Copyrighted by Pat Bean

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Travels With Maggie: Lake Walcott and Yellow Feathers

May 31, 2010 by Pat Bean

          “The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!” — Jack Kerouac

Back on the Road

American goldfinch wearing yellow feathers to rival the sun ... Photo by Pat Bean

Lake Walcott State Park, adjacent to the Minidoka National Wildlife Refuge in southeast Idaho, is one of those nature treasures I’m always hoping to discover. While I lived a mere 150 miles away from it for over 20 years, I didn’t find it until I had started RV-ing and began scrutinizing maps.

Since it sat directly along my path on this journey, there was no way I would have passed it by without stopping – even if I hadn’t needed to do so to fill out some paperwork in anticipation of my returning to the park as a volunteer in August.

I arrived at the park in time for a hike with Maggie down to the lake, where I watched Canada geese shepherd half a dozen goslings. They trailed across the water with one parent in front leading the way and one parent in the rear making sure there were no laggards.

Across the way from the lake, where the Snake River ran free of the dam that backed up the water for the lake, white pelicans sat in a row on a line of island rocks.

Bullock’s orioles, meanwhile, clamored for my attention, their bright yellow-orange feathers

White pelican on a rock island in the middle of the Snake River ... Photo by Pat Bean

dancing among the green foliage like twinkling Christmas tree lights. But even their glory was dimmed by the American goldfinch that perched just outside my RV.

Yellow has always been one of my favorites colors, and these small birds wore such sunlight as dazzled the eyes.

Although I knew I would miss the friends I left behind in Ogden, my stop at Lake Walcott made being on the road again feel right.

Copyrighted by Pat Bean

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Travels With Maggie: A Biker-Chick and a Great Horned Owl

May 25, 2010 by Pat Bean

Chitters ... Photo by Pat Bean

“I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees.  The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets.  It has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day.  It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful.  Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and benumbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me – I am happy.”  ~Hamlin Garland

I remember the Ogden Nature Center when an old farm house served as its visitor center instead of this nature-friendly structure. ... Photo by Pat Bean

Ogden Nature Center

Before I left Ogden to continue on my journey to Idaho’s panhandle, I visited a couple of old friends at the Ogden Nature Center. The human one was my biker-chick friend Susan Synder, who teaches school children all about the magic of Mother Nature.

I bet she wished she had her bicycle with her during my visit because I walked her butt off – her words to our mutual friend Charlie Trentelman – on the center’s trails.

It was a fantastic hike in which we saw warblers, grosbeaks, chickadees and evidence of a bold beaver. He had built a dam and was chawing down trees – big ones. We both worried that the critter’s days at the nature center are numbered – and we both hoped he is moved to another location and not treated as the varmint wildlife officials classify his kind. You hear me guys. Make it so!

The Nature Center and I go back a long way. I moved to Ogden the first time shortly after it had been created. The transformation of its 152 acres of plowed farmland into a center-of-town wildlife and nature sanctuary is a miracle accomplished by many willing hands. It’s a perfect place to go to stress down from today’s crazy world.

Entries from the Ogden Nature Center's annual birdhouse competition can be seen along the entry trail through August. This unique birdhouse, built by my friend Susan to show her love of bicycling, is part of the permanent collection. ... Photo by Pat Bean

The non-human friend I visited this day was Chitters, a great horned owl that had been imprinted on humans at a young age and couldn’t survive in the wild. He’s the nature center’s mascot, and it was with delight that I told Susan about the time, in the early 1980s, when Chitters had escaped to dally with a female great horned who had been hanging around his cage.

I wrote a newspaper story about the love affair. But poor Chitters almost starved before he showed back up at the nature center a week later. Male great horns are supposed to feed their mates to show they are worthy of fathering children. Poor Chitters couldn’t even feed himself. The optimist in me wants to believe the female took pity on him and loved him anyway. If so, his offspring might just be one those great horns birders see around Ogden. I  hope so.

Chitters has passed the age that most wild great horned owls live. But his pampered life has left him still hale and hearty. Susan said she was delighted to know that zoo great horned owls can live into their fifties. Make it so Chitters!

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Travels With Maggie: Just-Another-Tanager Day

May 20, 2010 by Pat Bean

Western tanager -- Wikipedia photo

Looking for birds -- Photo by Pat Bean

“The tender friendships one gives up, on parting, leave their bite on the heart, but also a curious feeling of a treasure somewhere buried.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupery

When I return to Ogden, the delight of my Wednesday mornings is to go on the weekly come-rain-come-shine-come heat-come-cold bird walk sponsored by the Wasatch Audubon Chapter and herded along by the always-eager-to-see-the-next-bird Mort Somer. It was this group of birders that mentored me when I couldn’t tell a duck from a goose or a sparrow from a woodpecker.

California quail -- Photo by Pat Bean

 I’ve never met another Audubon group — and I’ve birded with many in my travels – so generous with their knowledge and whose members are so delightful to walk beside. It’s a diversified group so along with learning about birds, I also learn the names of new wildflowers and trees and lots of other nature trivia.

 Willard Bay State Park north of Ogden was where we headed for yesterday’s outing. We found the birds waiting for us. The first bird I saw on getting out of our vehicle was a western tanager, a stand-out red, orange-yellow and black bird that tends to stay hidden among the leaves.

By the time we left the park, I had seen more of these delightful birds, including a quick coupling between one of the bright males and a paler female, than I had on previous bird outings put together. I never thought I would hear myself say: “Oh, it just another tanager.” But that’s what all of us were saying after an hour of birding, even though we saw 47 different species of birds.

 The sweetness of each bird sighting was almost as delectable as birding once again with my Wasatch Audubon friends. But not quite.

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Travels With Maggie: Creating New Memories

May 16, 2010 by Pat Bean

Maggie leads the way during our Ogden Mountain bench trail hike ... Photo by Pat Bean

“True friends are the ones who never leave your heart, even if they leave your life for awhile.” Author unknown

Days 22-25

Catching up with the lives of old friends and renewing my bond with the Wasatch Mountains has kept me busy the past few days.

The Wasatch Mountains wore a misty hat the day we hiked the Ogden River Parkway ... Photo by Pat Bean

On my first full day in town, my friend Kim and I hiked an Ogden Mountain bench trail, one that held many memories for me. The mile and three-quarter loop was one I walked many afternoons to shake off the stress of my city editor job at the Standard-Examiner. 

 

Yellow and purple wildflowers brightened the trail this day, while scrub jays, black-headed grosbeaks and western kingbirds followed our passage. The scrub jay and grosbeak were the first for my annual bird list. Western kingbirds had followed me all the way from Texas to Utah.

A couple of days later, after a rainy day that left the mountain trails muddy, Kim and I hiked the Ogden River Parkway. We began the paved trail at Monroe Boulevard and followed it for a mile and a half to the mouth of Ogden Canyon. Western bluebirds, western kingbirds and mallards trailed along beside us.

Mallards along the Ogden River Parkway ... Photo by Pat Bean

Rainbow Gardens, both a gift shop and a restaurant, marked the end of the parkway, enticing us to stop awhile to browse and eat  before walking back to our vehicle. When my mother had been alive, this was her favorite place in Ogden to eat.  She always ordered the Gabby Crabby. I ordered the same in her memory.

From hiking, to staying up late one night drinking Jack Daniels and chatting in rapid pace with my friend Kim, to revisiting the newspaper where I worked for 25 years, to eating at familiar places, this visit seemed to be all about memories.

I’m glad I’m still making them. The past can be a pleasant place to revisit, but it’s not a place to live.

Copyrighted by Pat Bean

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