blog 2009

                              blog 2010 Jan-Jun

                              blog 2010 summer

                              blog 2010 fall

                              blog 2011 winter

                              blog 2011 spring

                              Sask. 2011

                              blog 2011 summer

                              blog 2011 fall

                              blog

Friday, September 23, 2011

In the Hanlon Forest, something drew my attention.

Ground into the path ahead. A couple hundred of them.

Spoke of a very dramatic encounter.

Crazy sharp porcupine quills. Removed one by one from someone's dog undoubtedly.

There must have been much crying and howling.

People who let their dogs run the trails off-leash exposed them to this painful danger.

I tried to warn them. They don't often listen.

Porcupines thrived in the forest. Every year there were one or two new babies.

And Mama Porcupine did not back down.

They were most easily seen at dusk, descending from the leaves they ate at the tops of trees. Then they liked to walk the trails. Slowly.

No real predators around like the pine marten.

But sadly, lots of curious dogs.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Another visit to the cottage, this time for the ecoenergy grant inspection.

To quantify exactly how bad it all was.

Quite. The basement was virtually unprotected. And all the cold air came upstairs.

Cracks around the door to the crawl space let mice into the building.

The roof would need insulation, resheathing, new gutters and new shingles.

The good news and the bad news was the place was eligible for a pile of grants.

I sat on the back porch and watched the Turkey Vultures tilt in the sky.

There was lots of beautiful greenery in the yard.

Most of it poison ivy.

There were a couple interesting trees as well, like this Black Locust.

Great seed pods. And apparently — fragrant cascading blossoms in the spring.

Yay. One good thing.

There was no better way to get my mind off things then a walk along the Ausable Channel's tow path in Grand Bend.

It had a nice secluded feel in the fall.

Spotted Touch Me Not lined the path with walls of orange.

There wasn't much going on in the channel except the occasional gigantic splash.

Monster-sized carp.

Around a bend a lazy throng of paddlers suddenly sprung into action.

A family of young Wood Ducks.

A palette of vibrant colours.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Traffic came to a complete standstill on Kitchener's Highway 8 for about a quarter hour.

Construction in Tavistock was murder.

Highway 7 was closed at Elginfield. Thirty kilometre detour.

All in all it was a dreadful drive to Port Franks. Three hours.

By the time I stepped out of the car to talk to the draftsman and the builder, I was completely knackered.

Lots of logistics. Lots of details.

Hard to absorb it all.

Thank God the cottage had a good sturdy foundation, solid floor joists, straight beams and roof trusses.

It would all save a lot of expensive prep work.

As I sat in the backyard, I watched the Tufted Titmice flit from pine to pine. A turkey vulture circled in the sun.

Tried to not think about all the mice droppings inside.

Sigh.

The beginning of a flu was coming on. Early mornings and long drives were getting to me.

Not to mention everything else.

On the road, a bold group of visitors silently stalked the gardens and lawns of empty cottages.

Poked around for edibles. Took their time.

Very deliberate.

Wild Turkeys. Maybe the same flock from the week before.

They ran in circles, strolled across the road in front of my car, fanned their wings.

Played around.

Right at home.

They were pretty.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Cardinals hatched a late brood this year. Likely a second batch.

They all showed up at the back window an hour before sunset.

They sure made a racket.

Dad fed the youngsters.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Hurricanes in the Caribbean were producing huge puffy cumulous clouds and dramatic storms.

Even beside Lake Huron at Port Franks.

Beautiful.

And so was the beach.

The summer crowds had dispersed for school and life in the big city.

People missed some great swimming in nice warm September water.

It was the first day of owning my new cottage and a swim was the perfect way to enjoy it.

Maybe the only way to enjoy it.

I didn't want to think about all the work that lay ahead.

The new place was a relic from the 1970s. It needed a complete gutting and overhaul.

It would be an expensive, complicated and lengthy process.

Sigh.

The beach was full of Quagga Mussels, relatives of the invasive Zebra Mussel.

Ring Billed Gulls patrolled the sand and examined every little thing on the ground.

You couldn't leave a bag behind when you went for a swim.

By the time you got back it would have been thoroughly torn apart and inspected.

A pair of Sanderlings poked around the grasses and along the edges of the creek.

Building up reserves for a long flight to Peru and Chile.

A long journey from the subarctic. One of the longest of any migrating bird.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Warbler migration was building daily. I hurried outdoors first thing in the morning.

But east winds had discouraged birds from moving south. The forest was not very birdy.

In the meantime there were other sights.

Recent cool misty days had spawned a crop straight out of a sci-fi fantasy.

Massive mushrooms had ballooned out of the forest floor.

Animals had taken a few bites. Didn't seem to like them much.

Blue Eyed Dancer Damselflies flitted about beside the South Creek Pond.

Their wide spread eyes saw every possible prey.

Mallards quacked away.

A Great Blue Heron stalked the shallows for minnows and frogs.

On the way home a small maple tree gave a hint of what was just around the corner.

Fall.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Labour Day weekend was never a good time to visit cottage country.

I had no choice. My real estate agent and I needed to see if the cottage in Port Franks had been cleared out before my deal closed.

No such luck.

There weren't any people, but there sure was a lot of extra stuff that needed to be trashed.

So much for vacant possession.

A long look at some casual weekend browsers on the side of Port Franks Road lifted my spirits.

A brood of Wild Turkeys picked along the shoulder while drivers skidded to a halt and gawked.

Despite the weekend rains, the Port was overrun with people and parties and manic last minute summer enjoyment.

Just as I figured. I got the heck out of there and took the back roads to the Grand Bend Sewage Lagoons on Mollard Road.

It was blessedly devoid of human beings that afternoon.

The morning rain had filled the cells and scared away any migrating shorebirds.

Storm clouds darkened on the horizon.

There were lots of stinky things to eat for waterfowl.

Like these Blue Winged Teal.

Migration had already started to deplete the stock of local bird life.

There were only a few swallows and the odd sparrow still hanging around.

A Great Egret flew overhead.

Thunder rolled ominously through the skies. I gathered up my equipment and headed back to the car.

Just as I was thinking how unimpressive the sights had been that day, I was proven wrong.

A gorgeous Buckeye Butterfly landed dead ahead.

When the rain began to pelt down I rushed the gate and hopped over in a hurry.

It was a torrential downpour by the time I hit Highway 7.

I hardly noticed the trip home. My head was filled with thoughts of enjoying the lagoon and the beach whenever I wanted.

A few more days lay ahead before possession.

It seemed like forever.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

The summer had been too hot and humid to enjoy a trip to Curry Tract north of Milton.

I couldn't find the stamina to survive the vicious relentless hordes of mosquitoes.

But today was the first cool overcast day of the fall migration. A good time to revisit old haunts.

And most of the mosquitoes had gone.

The Goldenrod was at its peak.

Filling fields and roadsides with waves of orange and yellow.

Skippers and Ringlets were loving it.

Like this Common Ringlet.

The local brook that normally sustained much of the wildlife at the Tract had dried up.

Must have been a hard barren summer.

A few sprigs of Brook Lobelia poked up in a muddy spot.

Survived the drought.

I spied another Lobelia variant, a Cardinal flower, a few kilometres away on the side of a gravel road.

Vibrating with colour.

Curry Tract seemed bereft of birds. So disappointing.

Nuts of all sorts were scattered over the forest floor.

Including Hickory nuts.

A flamboyant looking caterpiller hunkered down beside the trail.

A Hickory Tussock Moth caterpillar.

Then I heard Chickadees. Always a good sign.

They were always a reliable conduit to other birds.

Friendly and curious, they will come over and check you out.

And they bring their friends over too. Other warblers.

Success.

A Chestnut Sided Warbler.

There were Redstarts and Black and White Warblers.

And this one. Behind bushes some distance away.

Looked like a male Bay Breasted Warbler.

Here was another glimpse.

Fleeting. That's the way warblers were.

Except for this marvellous creature.

A Red Eyed Vireo. With a nice spider in its beak.

It took an unusual interest in my camera and my kooky attempts at twittering.

Curious. Followed me around for a bit, too.

Right up close.

Enchanting.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

I filled the feeders first thing in the morning.

But not a single bird.

What the …

Oh no.

Coop's back for another murderous season.

Friday, August 26, 2011

The resident Hummingbird buzzed me this morning while I weeded around the Ligularia.

Then she disappeared into the backyard.

I fed Tiny the Chipmunk on the back step and watched Madam Hummer inspect the Trumpet Vine blossoms.

Tiny little feet. Feathers like irridescent scales.

She was very thorough.

Got right into her work.

Gripping with her toes.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Hard to believe that summer was drawing to a close.

The signs were all there. Shorter days. Cool nights. Fresh breezes.

A relief in so many ways.

Blistering hot humid weather was only good when you had a beach near your front door.

And man did we have a hot July this year. Record breaking. Almost unbearable.

The woods and fields were starting to overflow with harvest.

Beech trees shed their husks on the forest floor.

This year was a bumper crop.

Beech nuts are not very tasty for humans but animals love them. They wouldn't be lying around for long.

It seemed that everywhere you turned, trees, shrubs and vines were full of bounty.

In Preservation Park here in Guelph, Robins gorged on wild grapes. Wouldn't fly away.

Just popped in and out between vines when approached.

Preoccupied.

The sound of Eastern Wood Pewees had haunted the Hanlon Forest for several weeks.

A sure harbinger of autumn.

One popped down in front of me to eat a juicy caterpiller.

It wasn't hard to confuse a Pewee with an Eastern Phoebe. Both same size.

But a Phoebe bobbed its tail. And a Pewee had a peaked head with a black upper beak and an orange lower beak, and wing bars.

Here was another view.

Hard to distinguish in the raking morning light. But definitely no tail bobbing.

Chicks had fledged into adolescents.

This pair hung out at the park waiting for food to show up.

Flickerettes.

Other signs of fall filled the skies too.

A trio of Canadair CT-114 Tutors roared by.

The Snowbirds were practising before the airshow at the Canadian National Exhibition. They always did a flyby through Guelph airspace before circling back to Toronto.

Super fast. Their top speed was 750 kilometres per hour.

In the heat of the summer, most ponds had evaporated into shallow algae-filled puddles.

Full of larvae and small creatures perfect for fattening up birds already heading south for the winter.

Several shorebirds had visited and poked around in the past weeks.

Lesser Yellow Legs. Spotted Sandpipers. And this nervous Nelly.

A Solitary Sandpiper.

The fields were filling up with rafts of yellow and blue flowers.

Goldenrod was not yet blooming, so bees had to resign themselves to Spotted Knapweed.

The Whitetail Dragonflies had mostly gone, replaced by Twelve Spotted Skimmers.

Black Eyed Susans were incredibly prolific this year.

My Ligularia were fabulous.

That wet rainy June had helped a lot of things.

Lots of butterflies this year, too.

Tons of Viceroys.

And blue Summer Azures.

Beat this bee to the punch.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

A lot of birds really suffered from mites this summer.

The perfect weather for them: hot and humid. Dust baths didn't seem to help.

The Red Winged Blackbirds and the Bluejays were particularly hard hit.

Some looked really bad. So bad it was embarrassing.

This one had its ear holes completely exposed.

Thank goodness new feathers were always growing in.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Holidays went by so quickly. It's been back to work now for almost two weeks.

My eyes are tired already.

Thank goodness the humidity has lifted and the nights are cool.

Summer heat is a bit too much for me.

A pair of House Finches has been visiting with their young one.

They love sunflower seeds, but they'll eat almost anything in the tray.

Growing their fall feathers already.

At the end of my nightly walk, a baby porcupine fell out of a tree and hit the ground with a squeal.

Big Mama porcupine slowly came down to check it out. Gave it a nose to nose.

Big Mama sure was prolific. That was the fourth baby I've seen in just as many years.

Full moon tonight.

The beginning of another cycle. For all kinds of things. Weather, people, animals.

A tiny bloody red Mars was visible in the east with the rising moon just after sunset.

Showed up in a larger view of my photo. Below the "o" in below. Approximately.

Depending on your browser maybe.

Mars is getting brighter as it approaches its opposition with the Earth in March 2012.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Life has taken a surprising turn in the last couple of weeks.

I am now the owner of a cottage on Lake Huron.

Thanks in no small part to an incredibly patient and helpful real estate agent. Bill Lee. Three years of showing me properties.

The man is a saint.

And thanks, of course, to gobs of money from the bank courtesy of my mortgage guy Rob Mizak. The "miracle man."

When you're self employed, it's not easy getting money from the bank.

Most days, it's hard enough getting money from regular customers.

When all the rushing about and urgency had passed, there were finally a few hours to enjoy Port Franks' wonderful beach.

A place of comfort and beauty from the first moment I laid eyes on it.

I had discovered it quite by accident one summer after a hasty departure from a rain-soaked week in Leamington, totally in the opposite direction.

From the moment I drove past the giant forested sand dunes and down the secluded hill, something tugged at my soul.

The feeling never left me. Or the sights and smells.

Today before I even got to the beach, the breeze brought pine trees, the sea scents of watery creatures and the cries of gulls.

My favourite smell was the sweet sticky fragrance of balsam poplars.

Everyone took their shoes off on the pathway to the beach.

Just to feel the silky soft cool sand.

The water was lovely and warm with lots of great wave action.

I jumped in for my first swim of the summer.

Long overdue.

Got the kinks out of my muscles and washed away all the sweat from a hot day spent inspecting the new cottage. Just down the road.

Daydreamed about childhood summers.

Grassy dunes were scattered over Port Frank's wide sandy beaches.

Marras grass, commonly known as Beach Grass, poked out. Tried to gain a foothold.

Provincially rare. Spread by rhizomes with streamers that popped up and snaked along the ground.

It was a bit early to see fall migrating shorebirds. Plus there were lots people on the beach, enjoying the summer.

Large flocks of the usual suspects patrolled for handouts.

Well-fed and ever watchful Ring Billed Gulls.

I carefully scanned the edge of Mud Creek where it emptied into the lake. Surely the unending supply of washed up bugs would be attracting somebody.

A Solitary Sandpiper, gamely avoiding children surfboarding in the sandy shallows.

With back to school looming around the corner, they would be a minor disruption soon to disapppear.

A walk along the beach gave a few indications of how far locals had advanced when it came to preserving the environment.

Regeneration areas were not uncommon any more.

At the same time, parochialism and beach hogging were alive and well.

An never-ending preoccupation for waterfront cottage owners.

And rich people.

On a secluded section of road on the way home, I did a quick change from my wet bathing suit to dry clothes.

When the sun began to drop in the sky, it was hard to leave Port Franks behind.

But at least this time, I knew I would be coming back soon.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

A pair of female Ruby throated Hummingbirds duked it out in the backyard.

One took a rest break.

And a sip of nectar at the same time.

They go back and forth between the Honeysuckle and the Catalpa, chirping away.

Letting you know they're around.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Southern Ontario's heat wave showed no signs of abating.

City dwellers had fled for cottage country in droves. Guelph was quiet and peaceful all weekend long.

Lots of time to get acquainted with Tiny, the newest chipmunk in the backyard.

A wee thing, born this spring. Red rump.

She was pretty good at coming when I called. Took seeds from my hand without any problem.

And finally, posed for the camera without running away from the shutter.

Lost a strip of fur across the top of her head. Got into trouble, no doubt.

Baby, last year's chipmunk, had rejected the backyard in favour of the sideyard and its birdfeeder spillages.

Nevertheless last week she jumped on my shoulder, just to show she still could.

I had a feeling Baby was Tiny's mom.

Another creature visited the backyard on the weekend as well.

Not quite as friendly though.

Whoa.

It was the scariest groundhog I'd ever seen in my life.

After a few minutes, it scurried away.

Thank goodness.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Southern Ontario has been sizzling.

Last week we saw more than 36° C, about 49° C with the humidity.

It was unbearable. Difficult to breathe.

The birds, especially black ones, were suffering too.

A family of young crows visited the birdfeeder, experimented with the bird bath and hung out.

One decided to stretch out on an old patio table and open up some feathers.

Trying to cool off its body.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

A trip to Regina, Saskatchewan to visit Carol was a holiday, a chance to explore western Canada for the first time, and a great way to get reference material for paintings.

Four for the price of one. What more could a bird-loving friend-missing adventure-seeking artist want?

It sure was a lot of work carrying all my equipment through the airport and lugging it along through the prairies for more than a week.

But it was worth it. The sights took my breath away.

My lasting memories were rolling hills of prairie grasses blowing in the wind as far as the eye could see under a big blue sky that went on forever.

Dragonflies. Everywhere.

And freedom.

Check out this link — Saskatchewan 2011.

Friday, July 8, 2011

It's always a good idea to check out other artists and see what they're up to.

A special trip was undertaken to the big city to visit the Toronto Outdoor Art Exhibition.

I packed a frozen water bottle, snacks and my iPod which took surprisingly decent photos in a package the weight and size of a deck of cards.

Modern technology is wonderful.

It can be quite an ordeal to spend an afternoon in the merciless sun, heat and grime of Nathan Phillips Square, the centre of the city of Toronto.

I could barely manage. I don't know how artists did it for three days.

Even though the sun was baking hot, everyone was wonderfully conversational. And open about their craft.

It was a good opportunity to gain valuable insight.

Laura Kingsbury of Georgetown said she hiked the local trails and went on canoeing trips to get reference photos of her subject matter — birds.

Couldn't help but love an artist who loved birds.

She worked in watercolours in her basement which had south-facing windows.

A little cold and damp though, she said, in the spring and fall.

Beverley Hawksley portrayed her family, friends and others in striking acrylic portraits.

Her sunny personality was a lot different from her ghoulish narrative subjects.

Totally compelling though.

Hawksley, who once had a studio in a downtown Toronto old factory building, now worked in a spare bedroom of an old house in Huntsville.

The textured backgrounds were built up with acrylic medium, tissue and paper, then sanded.

George Raab of Millbrook attended Canadian and U.S. art shows in the summer, and in cold months, worked from a studio overlooking a gorgeous rural acreage in Millbrook.

A self-sustaining full-time artist for 30 years, Raab said he was disappointed by the gallery experience. So he took his art on the road and sold his prints in person.

On his travels with his van and trailer, he recorded the remote tangled landscapes along his route in meticulously composed and executed hand-tinted intaglio prints.

His booth was super busy.

A lot of other people liked his work just as much as I did.

Overall, the show had fewer visitors than in past years, and there seemed to be fewer interesting artists.

But it was still worth the experience.

By the time I headed down Queen Street West, the Friday night gawkers and walkers were starting to emerge.

A microcosm of city dwellers and visitors.

I sat down and rested my sore feet inside a great little restaurant, the Queen Mother Cafe.

The Ping Gai was highly recommended. Especially the sauce: lime, garlic, red pepper, fish sauce, coriander. Sweet and savoury at the same time. Nice salad too.

A great way to rest up and enjoy.

With a ringside seat in the heart of the big city.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Canada Day seemed as good an excuse as any for a major outing celebrating our natural heritage.

Luther Marsh had been calling my name for weeks. The day was warm but not hot with a bit of a breeze.

Perfect weather for gallivanting.

Wellington County was the very picture of Canadian rural countryside complete with wind turbines, alfalfa and contented prosperous farms.

Luther Marsh, a bit off the beaten track, was a sure bet for all sorts of active wildlife.

Unfortunately, that would include pesky insects. The mosquitoes and horse flies were brutal, circling in unrelenting attack mode.

It was hopeless to fend them off. All you could do was keep going and try … try to ignore them.

It surely seemed that the faster and the more you moved, the more they followed you around.

I later discovered that when you stood perfectly still, they tended to settle down.

Often at the ends of your binoculars. Or camera lens.

Better than eyelids or lips though. Argh.

In the meantime, the butterflies and dragonflies along the walking trail were fabulous.

Black Tailed Skimmers flitted overhead, feasting on mosquitoes.

A Tiger Swallowtail rested in the shade, fanning its wings.

High-strung Pearly Crescentspots darted around.

Orange Hawkweed stretched its long spindly stems along the side of the path.

Wild rose bloomed in the shade.

Clusters of butterflies like this female and male White Admiral descended on the path. What in the world had attracted so many of them at once?

In a word, poop. They fought each other to get the best part of some scat that dotted the ground. Perhaps coyote scat.

This Eyed Brown butterfly also couldn't resist.

Wow. Why are so many creatures attracted to poop?

One of life's little mysteries.

One section of Luther Marsh was a wide vista overlooking a small lake.

Complete with shells on its sandy shores.

Another part of the conservation area was boggy swamp with cattails and beavers.

A recent turtle nest had been dug out and feasted upon.

A few clumps of Purple Milkweed poked up at the edge of the bog.

A rarity.

Luther Marsh was the headwaters of the Grand River, a 300-kilometre long river supplying drinking water to 1 million residents in Ontario, including me.

The marshes were an essential filtration system that produced sparking clean water.

Unfortunately, every municipality on its route south to Lake Erie was guilty of polluting it with varying degrees of raw sewage.

I do believe we humans are entirely doomed to destroying ourselves.

The growing season in north Wellington county was a couple weeks more compressed than Guelph's.

These wild irises were just past their peak.

The fennel-like scent of Water Parsnip filled the air.

Made my allergies go nuts.

A welcome addition to the torture of biting insects.

Mother Nature sure was a funny practical joker.

This female Ruby Meadowhawk sat still for just a second, before heading off to grab more mosquitoes.

You go girl.

There were lots of breeding birds singing. I spotted Redstarts, Baltimore Orioles, Pine Warblers, Indigo Buntings, and Magnolia Warblers, all feeding young.

You could hear them all but it was almost impossible to get a bead on them within the dense leaf canopy.

Unless they took to the tops of dead trees like the Great Crested Flycatcher.

I was pretty happy to leave the buzzing whining biting forest behind for the open spaces of wetland just up the road.

I wanted to check out the heronry where last year I saw about three nests.

Plus, I wanted to see Bobolinks, one of my favourite birds. They're so kooky.

The 3-car "parking lot" was empty. Thank goodness. It was quite an ordeal to drive over all that long grass without getting stuck somewhere on the tiny little lane.

Pretty flowers alongside the clearing made up for some of the inconvenience.

Mallow came in white …

… and pink. Nicer than the ones in my garden.

The whole time I trudged the treacherous rutted paths surrounding the marsh, lugging my camera and panting in the sun, I had a little companion.

A Savannah Sparrow. A nice addition to my life list. She sure was friendly and curious.

All around me in the grass I could hear the musical notes of Bobolinks. Dancing around the scale in chords of major fifths.

Finally they stuck their heads out.

They had an awkward way of slowly hovering amidst the grasses that was hard to describe.

One youngster valiantly tried to imitate Dad. But it was so much easier to just wait to be fed.

Life sure was hard when you were missing a tail.

Bobolinks had a bizarre style of perching and drooping, unlike any other bird I knew.

Maybe a way to cool off in hot sunny fields.

Their colouration and feathers were beautiful.

I could have studied them all day.

The sun was dropping in the sky and the marsh came alive with squawking and croaking.

A lot of it was coming from here …

It looked like something out of Dr. Suess.

The heronry had thrived this year. From where I stood I counted 23 active nests each stuffed with two or three youngsters.

Multi-storey heron condos.

There was a continuous to-ing and fro-ing of adult Blue Herons feeding their youngsters.

I loved their cool Mohawk look.

At least a half dozen Great Egrets roosted nearby.

Maybe there was one nest too. It was hard to tell.

I drove slowly out of Luther Marsh at about 20 km per hour. It stirred the horse flies into a frenzy.

They totally kept up with the car.

They followed me all the way, swirling around, hitting the windows and catching rides on the side mirrors.

Poor desperate horse flies. They were completely nuts. All that isolation in the hot blazing sun.

By that point, I could totally relate.

A flock of Tree Swallows settled onto deadwood for the night.

As pretty as painted china.

On the way home near Lake Bellwood, a big Osprey nest graced the top of what looked like an old hydro pole fitted with a box.

We humans had a good idea now and again, after all.

She had her hackles up. I took a few quick shots and scooted out of there.

It had been an exhausting but fulfilling day, full of interesting sights and sounds.

But I sure wouldn't be missing those flies.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

What better way to spend a birthday than by looking at property for sale in one of my favourite towns, Grand Bend?

It's been a dream for years to have a studio gallery near Lake Huron, serving double duty as a cottage. When or if it will actually happen is another thing.

Sure takes a lot of work to find the right place. Not to mention $$$.

Grand Bend is a tourist town with lots to offer besides a busy summer retail season.

The beach, the Ausable River, trails and biking, and a fabulously stinky sewage lagoon that birds love.

First stop was lunch at a little conservation area near Port Franks, just down the road.

The Ausable Cut Conservation Area gets a lot of highway noise but once you start down the trails, the world is shut out.

The paths lead into oak savannah forest, huge towering dunes, and to the Ausable Cut, a man-made diversion into Port Franks from the Ausable River.

There was a great Shagbark Hickory tree near the main path that attracted all kinds of wildlife.

The leaves are unique … three end leaflets larger than the two basal leaflets.

In fall there is golden yellow foliage and of course, hickory nuts. Squirrels and people adore them.

It was mandatory to eat lunch at a picnic table near another great tree at the park. A wild Mulberry tree.

An unceasing lineup of birds waited their turn for berries. Jays, orioles, robins, grackles, grosbeaks. You could spend all day watching the show.

The berries are delicious. The purple ones are mildly sweet and juicy. The red ones are refreshingly tart.

At the edge of the forest were Poke Milkweeds, Asclepias exaltata.

Common to Carolinian forests. Which aren't very common.

There are about ten types of milkweed plants in Ontario. Who knew?

Real birders are not allowed to leave the Grand Bend area without a trip to the sewage lagoons.

They are located on Mollard Road, cleverly hidden behind berms, and have an unmarked farm gate entrance.

The wildflowers are untouched and gorgeous.

Waterfowl have good breeding success in its secluded waters.

Like these baby Green Winged teals.

The only problem is, the birds have so little contact with humans that they are easily freaked out.

I felt bad when the mother Green Winged teal tried to flee ahead of me, and barrelled away over the grass and into the next pond.

She had already moulted out her flight feathers, poor thing. I moved away as quickly as I could.

There was lots to see. Buffleheads, wood ducks, black terns, sparrows, butterflies, flycatchers and a handful of shorebirds.

Like this Spotted Sandpiper, tail bobbing away.

On the way out of town, the rays of the setting sun lit up a field of oats near Greenway.

A palette put together by an artist.

Friday, June 24, 2011

It was cool and rainy but so much better than hot and sticky when you were delivering the last newspaper before summer holidays.

The countryside was blooming full tilt.

A field of soybeans east of Burford painted the landscape bright yellow.

Not every farmer had got a crop in the ground before all the rain in April.

Finally got a chance to drop by the goatyard at Elberta Farms.

The biggest billy came over to the fence to check me out. I thought he was going to let me have it with those scary looking horns.

Naa. Just wanted his head scratched. He sure was a friendly goat.

Smelled like goat cheese.

Hmm. Go figure.

There was a pretty spectacular rooster nearby, giving me a wary look.

Great colours and feathers.

I was heading home along Sheffield Road, hoping for a treat somewhere along the way.

Bluebirds hopped from fresh haybale to fresh haybale. Must have been a good vantage point for grasshopper spotting.

Came across a patch of pale blue at the side of the road.

Wild Lobelia. A rare sighting.