Thursday, June 29, 2006
Eagle fraud
No, the eagle in the photo was not on the grassy shore of Little Blake Lake.
The picture was taken in Alaska of an eagle eating a fish, probably on the gravelly bank of an Alaskan river.
1. I should have attached a lable.
2. I should not have borrowed a photo from a wildlife web site.
3. Don't ask. Don't tell.
The picture was taken in Alaska of an eagle eating a fish, probably on the gravelly bank of an Alaskan river.
1. I should have attached a lable.
2. I should not have borrowed a photo from a wildlife web site.
3. Don't ask. Don't tell.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
A dead tree
I left a note for Jeff, of Lake Services Unlimited, asking if one of his crews could take down the dead elm tree at the north end of the retaining wall without hitting the cabin or the power line.
He called after stopping by to look at it and assured me his guys could do that for not a lot of money.
He also said he'd talked to Skip next door, who said he could take it down for us.
I guess we'll have a talk with Skip this weekend and bring up the chain saw to help cut the thing apart after he brings it down.
Ken
He called after stopping by to look at it and assured me his guys could do that for not a lot of money.
He also said he'd talked to Skip next door, who said he could take it down for us.
I guess we'll have a talk with Skip this weekend and bring up the chain saw to help cut the thing apart after he brings it down.
Ken
Monday, June 26, 2006
Fish (and bird) Story
It wasn't long after we arrived at Sidetrack on Saturday that Jo spotted a BIG dead fish floating near shore next to the dock. We went down to investigate and found a Muskie, about 30 inches long, bobbing in the water a couple feet from the grass. It was slimy, covered with flies, and beginning to be stinky. I made plans to haul the carcass out to the middle of the lake using a lawn rake and an accomplice.
A great afternoon, finishing a not so great Zane Grey novel, a great dinner and a couple glasses of not so great boxed wine, and the parental and grandpartental units were asleep by 9:30 PM. It rained hard and long most of the night. David might have suffered from the noise because he was in the loft, but it was comforting background noise for me.
Just a bit after 5:00 AM, I was up and about. I went out to the Lake Room to continue reading a Laurie R. King novel I'd begun at home. I turned on a light and was about to sit down, when a dark shadow swept across my field of vision as I looked out at the lake.
A bald eagle landed on the grass near the floating fish. It was cautious and spent a couple minutes looking around and seemingly listening to the early morning noises – song birds, occasional frogs, and distant crows. The eagle walked/hopped toward the fish, stopping between movements to look and listen. It seemed as nervous as an American tourist crossing the street in London, trying to figure out which direction the traffic was about to come from.
Finally, the eagle got to the edge of the water and waded in – less cautiously now – to the dead fish. It surveyed the big silvery thing. It was about as long as the head to tail length of the big bird. Then the eagle jumped atop the fish, grabbed hold with one talon and flapped its wing a couple times.
I sort of laughed to myself, since the fish hardly moved and it was obvious to me that the eagle would never lift the fish out of the water. It was obvious to the eagle too. It turned out that that was only a test. The bird got back on top of the floating fish, hooked a talon into it, and flapped madly toward the shore.
Finally, the fish was no longer floating. It wasn't up on the lawn, but it was grounded on the sand and rocks next to the shore. Satisfied that the fish was now a stable platform, the eagle jumped on board and proceeded to breakfast on the carrion. The eagle stood on the dead fish and ate for another 10 minutes. When it had its fill, it hopped on to the grass, took one last look at the fish, and flew off toward the west side of the lake. And I went back to reading about the suspicious death of a Sherlock Holmes wannabe in San Francisco. What a morning!
A great afternoon, finishing a not so great Zane Grey novel, a great dinner and a couple glasses of not so great boxed wine, and the parental and grandpartental units were asleep by 9:30 PM. It rained hard and long most of the night. David might have suffered from the noise because he was in the loft, but it was comforting background noise for me.
Just a bit after 5:00 AM, I was up and about. I went out to the Lake Room to continue reading a Laurie R. King novel I'd begun at home. I turned on a light and was about to sit down, when a dark shadow swept across my field of vision as I looked out at the lake.
A bald eagle landed on the grass near the floating fish. It was cautious and spent a couple minutes looking around and seemingly listening to the early morning noises – song birds, occasional frogs, and distant crows. The eagle walked/hopped toward the fish, stopping between movements to look and listen. It seemed as nervous as an American tourist crossing the street in London, trying to figure out which direction the traffic was about to come from.
Finally, the eagle got to the edge of the water and waded in – less cautiously now – to the dead fish. It surveyed the big silvery thing. It was about as long as the head to tail length of the big bird. Then the eagle jumped atop the fish, grabbed hold with one talon and flapped its wing a couple times.
I sort of laughed to myself, since the fish hardly moved and it was obvious to me that the eagle would never lift the fish out of the water. It was obvious to the eagle too. It turned out that that was only a test. The bird got back on top of the floating fish, hooked a talon into it, and flapped madly toward the shore.
Finally, the fish was no longer floating. It wasn't up on the lawn, but it was grounded on the sand and rocks next to the shore. Satisfied that the fish was now a stable platform, the eagle jumped on board and proceeded to breakfast on the carrion. The eagle stood on the dead fish and ate for another 10 minutes. When it had its fill, it hopped on to the grass, took one last look at the fish, and flew off toward the west side of the lake. And I went back to reading about the suspicious death of a Sherlock Holmes wannabe in San Francisco. What a morning!
