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Sunday, April 10, 2011
Warm southerly winds were bringing in wave after wave of ducks and raptors, as well as the first songbirds and shorebirds of the season. With them came the first rains. In my garden, the Helleborus loved it.
This visitor on my bird-feeding patio didn't mind the weather one bit.
After I gave my usual little whistle, she let me come within a few feet of her to take a photo. Probably one of last year's geese. One of the ones I hand-fed. Knew a good meal ticket when she saw one.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
After a week of cleaning, dusting, painting and polishing the house, I was ready to hit the road. It sure helped that it was the first warm day of the year: 15° C. The car found the way all by itself to one of my favourite parts of the province, Grand Bend on Lake Huron. Most of the lake was freshly melted. Receding ice had carved the dunes into sculptural hillocks. Ring-necked ducks and Buffleheads dove in the waters off-shore.
The historical tow path beside the Old Ausable Channel was one of the best walks in the area for birding and watching nature.
It always looked so inviting and secluded. Carp sunned themselves in the shallows and muskrats dove into the water at every turn.
By May, some of the finest warbler viewing in the province north of Lake Erie lay beside its slow-moving waters.
With warm weather, the insects became ferocious here. But they were a dream buffet for warblers and flycatchers. Birding paradise.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Managed to squeeze in some birding while taking a roundabout way to St. George. It's almost impossible not to do both at this time of the year. Too many firsts to see. A flock of Ring-necked Ducks took over a pond on Cooper Road.
Ring-necked Ducks have distinctive peaked heads. A Longhorn steer and a cow at the side of Morrison Road were just crying out to have their portraits taken.
Still in their thick winter coats.
Friday, April 1, 2011
It was a perfectly good day to check out Toronto's waterfront with Carol Brown, visiting from a slightly more frigid Regina, Saskatchewan. About 15 degrees Centigrade and two feet of snow more frigid, actually. Carol was wrestling with a persistent worrisome cough. I kept on eye on the wind. It was quite warm in the sheltered area of the bay but the trail around the yacht club headed towards a rather bleak-looking vista.
On one side of the path, Long-tailed Ducks and Red-necked and Horned Grebes dunked and dove.
Managed to catch this Horned Grebe before he disappeared under the waves. On the other side of the path within the partly-frozen dock area, an obnoxious outsider laid seige to a beleaguered flock of seagulls.
A juvenile Parasitic Jaeger. He wrestled a rubbery object from one hapless gull, toying with the item for some time before tossing it aside as inedible.
At least I hope he did. Not much lying around the area was recommended for digestion. The shorelines were clogged with the winter's accumulation of flotsam, quite a colourful collection in a big city like Toronto. Don't know how these Mute Swans could ever climb ashore.
Right where a small patch of ice had melted through, a Long-tailed Duck appeared. He posed for the camera.
Then disappeared beneath the ice. The female Long-tailed Duck was almost as colourful, but more mottled.
Both spectacular. A lifer for Carol. It would be a nice little memory for her when she got back to Regina.
A tiny brown object showed up on the path. The first insect of the year valiantly trying to cross the pathway.
A Tiger Moth (Virginia ctenucha) caterpillar. We almost stepped on it. Now that would have been no good at all. Besides, it would make a good snack for some songbird arriving cold and hungry at the waterfront. Before we left, the clouds parted and lit up a wonderful view of the Toronto skyline.
Smog-free.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Southern Ontario got hammered today with a major snow dump of more than 12 inches. Mother Nature showed us yet again who's really in charge. In the meantime, the first female cowbird of the season decided to show up.
And in the early morning, a serenade outside my bedroom window told me my old friend from last year had made it back.
The male Song Sparrow. Hurrah! The bravest of the bunch. Still haven't seen any female Red Winged Blackbirds yet. The night before, a small furry visitor had paid a visit to my back porch.
An Opossum. Thoroughly cleaned up all the leftover bird seed. And left several little packages behind. That was the thanks I got.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
It was officially the first day of spring. As good an excuse as any to get outdoors and check out the local birds. I glanced out the kitchen window before I left. The yard was dead silent.
No wonder. Someone was waiting for lunch to come along. Darn Sharp Shinned Hawk. Although I had to admit his aerial manouvering and flight control was amazing. Like a Stealth Bomber. I headed for my secret duck hot spot on the outskirts of Guelph. Never been posted. A quiet little hideaway just for my own viewing. Selfish but necessary. I knew the property owner wouldn't appreciate hordes of people around the place. From a perfect vantage point behind a wall of mulch could be seen several flocks of ducks lazily paddling in the water or sleeping on a bank. Some Ring-necked Ducks woke up from a snooze when my head poked up.
Must have heard the shutter clicking. When they thought I wasn't looking, they practised diving and displaying for some appreciative females.
Some nearby male and female Common Goldeneyes cautiously decided to head away.
The sound of metal parts clicking is almost always bad news when you're a duck. One duck couldn't resist a dive.
Just for the heck of it. Hope his head didn't hit bottom. All of a sudden panic set in.
A Red-tailed Hawk on a flyby. Didn't take long before the entire place emptied out. Better safe than sorry.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Fairchild Creek was a birding hotspot all year round. It also happened to be right beside my commute to work on the portion between Cambridge and St. George. One of the benefits of working in a small town. Another benefit: seeing the first crocuses of the season in bloom at the St. George post office.
An annual rite of spring. Right where the creek and the 4th Concession met up, I finally caught one of those elusive little early Song Sparrows flitting about in the tangle of branches and underbrush.
Singing its heart out. Just couldn't help it. Near Paris, a small group of Hooded Mergansers fought the current on the Grand River.
They ran along the surface of the water to get liftoff. The backroads around the creek looked like they were filled with nothing but hills, farms and cornfields.
What looked like merely an empty field …
… on closer look, was simply stuffed with Canada Geese. On a foraging break during migration. Great camouflage. Critical for self-protection during a vulnerable period when birds were hungry, tired and maybe too busy looking for food to mind their own safety.
Hundreds of Red Winged Blackbirds and Starlings also poked around for a meal nearby. Starlings can often be over-winterers but it seems the majority of these common birds commit to an annual migration. Long Point Marsh and the Lake Erie coastline were seeing the peak of Tundra Swan migration, according to reports. I wondered whether some swans used the nearby Grand River and tributaries like Fairchild Creek to navigate north. About a half hour before dusk, my sneaking suspicions were confirmed. I parked the car at the top of a rise on Highway 5 and watched the show.
They flew right over my car. Breathtaking.
Was I imagining it, or did they tip their wings? More likely veering in for a landing at a nearby flooded field. Just before I got home, a little gift waited for me alongside Wellington Road 35.
A pair of Tundra Swans, scooping a snack before bedtime. I disturbed them for about a minute or two, then left them in peace. How nice of them to not make me drive all the way to Long Point for a closeup.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Warm balmy winds melted away much of the snow. The forest however was a treacherous mess. Pools of water covered dangerously icy trails. Best not to risk a slip and fall. Birds were moving through thick and fast. Yesterday evening I looked up as a soft musical hoo-ing from Tundra Swans filled the sky over my house. They had long outstretched necks and a tight V-formation as they meandered around, looking for a place to spend the night. In the meantime, things had poked up in the garden. Buds were swelling on branches. Some had even burst open.
Like these Witch Hazel blossoms. Already.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Yesterday I thought I saw something dart across the back porch. Those birds are quick little critters, I thought. Wrong.
Those CHIPMUNKS are quick little critters! She was back! Baby Girl. Quit hibernation in favour of some fresh sunflower seeds. Totally understandable. Same big nose. Same droopy mouth. Man was she fat. Good grief, with all that birdseed lying around, perhaps I had created a monster. But maybe she was pregnant. Already? Her behind was a bright red, as red as a red squirrel. Very curious.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
The stormy northwest winds and driving sleet had subsided allowing flocks at Lake Ontario to climb the Hamilton mountain. I left early for a meeting in St. George so that I could sneak in some birding time beforehand. Priorities. Naturally the best way to get to St. George was via Sheffield Road, my favourite route. It did not disappoint.
A Mute Swan with an ankle tag. A glamorous escapee from who knows where, playing in the mud. There was almost always something to see around the Blue Lake Road area, a sheltered rural hideaway adjacent to the Grand River. A Northern Shrike paused with a mouse, disappeared, then reappeared at a treetop.
I have never seen as many as this winter. No idea why they are so common this year. On McPherson Road I could hear a couple of Song Sparrows. First ones of the year. But do you think I could find them? Hiding. Lots of Tree Sparrows scratching around along the roadsides though. Like this one.
Won't be hanging around much longer. Canada Geese pairs were already marking nesting territory on choice local ponds. Honking, strutting. Waking up the neighbourhood.
Not making many friends. The Canada Geese closer to Guelph were more concerned with grabbing a corn kernel or two in a field beside Forestell Road.
Something until the ponds melted. Which hopefully would be in a day or two, according to the weather forecast. Yay! Out of the corner of my eye, I could see some big birds — running. What the …
Silly turkeys. Wild Turkeys in fact. Can't go around the corner without seeing a bunch. I love it.
Friday, March 11, 2011
The weather hadn't changed in four days. Hour after hour of slush, snow, freezing rain and sleety fog. Horrid. Then just like every year, the first big wave of blackbirds arrived.
Cowbirds, Red Winged Blackbirds and Grackles. Already bullying the smaller birds at the feeder. Tired, hungry and miserable.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The first songbirds were coming back again. Last Sunday, a Red Winged blackbird gave its distinct musical buzz just beyond my back yard. I had a few days off. But plans to head south to the lakes and check out the earliest of spring migrators fell through. Darn treacherous March weather. Sleet, slush and freezing rain.
It was that kind of a day. And it was about to get much much worse. Suddenly there was a horrible screeching in the backyard. I ran to the back door. A Sharp Shinned Hawk had caught a Starling and was methodically trying to eat it alive. Who knew Sharp Shinned Hawks would hunt in such soggy miserable windy weather? Certainly one bird didn't. The Sharpie saw me gaping with horror at the scene and took off. It was an ambitious kill – large and heavy. Sharpie could barely transport her prey. And the Starling was still very much alive. And fighting back.
They both fell onto the rain-soaked road in a jumble of feathers and ear-piercing screeching.
The starling was in for the fight of its life. And Sharpie had an iron grip on its chest. It gave almost as good as it got, using its own razor-shop defence – its beak.
But it wasn't enough. It was so clearly an uneven battle. An almost sickening display of aggression. My emotions got the better of me.
I approached and tried to wave the Sharpie off. She eyed me and mantled the starling, preparing to dispatch her noisy prey asap under the protection of her wings.
When I got about 10 feet away, Sharpie knew she had only one alternative.
Up she went.
She barely mounted a nearby roof and awkwardly dragged the poor starling up and over the peak. Gone. The neighbourhood was silent once again.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
True to form, March had come in like a lion. When the winds and storms had subsided I went to Grand Bend to check out Lake Huron at winter's end. The beach was a desolate landscape of frozen waves devoid of the more-familiar sun-kissed beaches and throngs of young people.
The other side of beach life. Grand Bend's famous busy harbour was an empty frozen mask.
With a welcome bit of colour. Real birders can't make a trip to The Bend without a visit to the famous sewage lagoons on Mollard Road. They were still frozen solid. But the roadsides were alive with busy brown birds darting about, flying over the pavement, then grouping unexpectedly, rising and circling and finding ground again. Horned Larks. Everywhere.
Flighty little road hazards. The shallow frozen Ausable River running through Huron Woods was cold, clammy and dead still. Except for a continuous twittering from the cedars.
Cute little Tufted Titmice, never sitting still for a minute. In Port Franks, my favourite section of Mud Creek sheltered a Redhead preening away.
He sure was a handsome dude. Kept company with a small flock of Canada Geese.
A rare stretch of open water in cottage country.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The more the snow melted to reveal last fall's detritus, the less chance that birds wanted to hang around the yard. Except for first thing in the morning. A few little surprises showed up at the finch feeder.
A smattering of Common Redpolls, Pine Siskins and Goldfinches. Not a bad showing for the end of the season.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Didn't care what the calendar said.
Spring had arrived.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
It was hard to not notice an old apple orchard on Robinson Road, red bark outstanding against snow and spruce trees.
Further on, a wary hawk eyed me behind the tangle of branches.
The dull windless day was the undoing for Red Tailed Hawks everywhere, grounded in tall trees. Just outside Guelph, another Red Tail pounced on dinner and devoured it from a handy fence post.
Didn't care that she had an audience.
Friday, February 25, 2011
To: His Royal Highness Prince William, Clarence House, London, England, SW1A 1BA
Your humble servant and fellow member of the Realm Carol
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The thaw had melted away much of the snow. But it had also brought hurricane-force winds ripping shingles off roofs and toppling billboards. Things finally quieted down but it was merely a lull before a forecast of lengthy cold and snow. Canada! I headed out on a work assignment to check out Brant's new Sports Complex near Paris. But my real goal was to find a covey of Grey Partridge reportedly living at a site not too far away. Quite a few raptors had been grounded in the placid conditions. An American Kestrel tried to find a meal at the side of Rest Acres Road, stoically ignoring the steady stream of hockey players heading to the new arena.
Overhead flocks of ducks and geese streamed around the Grand River which had become swollen with meltwater.
Wings whistled above my head. The country roads around the Sports Complex were a haven for overwintering birds who could enjoy undisturbed sections of the Grand River and its steep wooded banks. Wild turkeys seemed to be everywhere. They had made an amazing comback in Ontario.
A flock scurried into some cornfields when I rounded a hilltop. Try as I might, those clumpy-looking Grey Partridges were just not to be seen. I got out of the car to walk a particularly scenic section of Pottruff Road near Whiteman's Creek. Overhead, a Red-tailed Hawk eyed me with displeasure.
The woods were lovely. I made a note to return during spring migration when birds were bound to congregate in the area. Suddenly I got a feeling something, somewhere was drilling holes in the back of my head. What in the world was that? I stood stock-still. I felt like I was being …
… watched. Yup. Okay, I got the message. I took a short section of Bethel Road back to the highway to head home. But not before being surprised by the sight of some very early spring migrants. Or maybe more overwinterers.
Brown-headed Cowbirds. Their sweet liquid cries lifted my spirits. Spring was hopefully just around the corner.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Our normal January thaw had shifted course and become a February thaw. The plus 10 degrees temperature beckoned irresistibly to a pent-up birder. A reprieve from a freezing cold snowy month. Who knew how long it would last? Northern Shrikes seemed to be everywhere this year, including at the Speed River.
Not the best photo. They never liked being too close to humans. Understandable. The thaw had drawn out more than one creature from its winter burrow.
Evidence that a beaver had come out of its den for a snack. I had seen them in the area last summer. Another section of the Speed River at the end of Stone Road provided a sheltered spot for a pair of overwintering Goldeneyes.
A jogger ran by and shouted out "Great Blue Heron and Belted Kingfisher." I was astounded. And not just at the fact that I had been correctly recognized as a birdwatcher. An overwintering Great Blue Heron? That must be one smart, hard-working heron to find enough to sustain itself over the harsh frozen winter. Note to self: come back and find this magician.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Old Man Winter took his first nap of the season today. The work was piled up on my desk chest deep. But I had get outdoors. It was overcast but the snow was melting everywhere. Hallelujah! Crows harrassed a Red-tailed Hawk over Niska Road at the Speed River. I tracked her down about half an hour later. Standing on the shore. She could only be doing one thing and I had caught her right in the act. Murder. She looked up with an angry stare, then took off.
A Canada Goose kill. The head always goes first. Not far away in a shrubby area on Sideroad 10 North, a Northern Shrike also gave me a wary look.
Didn't much like the sight of me standing on the edge of the road clicking away.
That was the end of that. A beautiful bird.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The sun was warm but fierce winds swept the snow across roadways, making for treacherous conditions. Snowplows tried to keep up but sometimes they inadvertently created slick black ice. You had to be careful and take it slow, no matter how bare the highway seemed.
Or pay the price. I crept along the rural roads around St. George, keeping an eye out for something specific — the first migrants of the spring season. Cambridge's sewage treatment plant often kept the Grand River ice free in the winter in and around Glen Morris. The view from the high level bridge was breathtaking.
It took careful looking to spot waterfowl, usually trying to get away as fast as possible from figures outlined on the bridge. As I'm sure I was.
There were Buffleheads and Common Mergansers. And Common Goldeneyes.
Almost a kilometre away. I gave my camera a pat for working so hard. On the other side of the bridge, a flock of Canada Geese kept a small group of Arctic dwellers company on the river.
Swans, possibly Trumpeters. Fabulous. The birding world told me a small flock seemed to have overwintered in the area. Quite amazing. The local bird population was having a great time at the John Bayus Trailer Park on Sheffield Road. There were at least a dozen woodpeckers. Like this cute little Downey.
Challenged me to a staring contest. Tree sparrows were everywhere, hiding, not hiding …
… thinking they were hiding … There haven't been very many nuthatches this year. It's a mystery why. But a pair of White Breasted Nuthatches flitted from tree to tree.
Overwintering because of the birdfeeders. A lot of animals depend on compassionate humans to make it through the hard winter months.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
It had to be the coldest week of winter. Minus 15 during the day, minus 25 at night. Plus a couple feet of freshly fallen snow. Brrrr. How did wild animals manage to survive in such extreme conditions?, I wondered. I suspected one thing though. They sure liked my back porch. Especially at night. In the mornings everything was swept clean. Most of time things looked uneventful enough.
Usually there was a lot of bird seed left over from the day. One night I saw some rabbits. How cute, I thought. I should take a picture of this. But how the heck did I photograph things at night when there wasn't any light? I was so hopelessly Old School. Besides, who read the manual for fancy D90 Nikon cameras? Too much brain strain.
Okay. After some fiddling, I found out what the menu button on the D90 did. Now that wasn't so hard. Things got even more interesting later on. I poked my head toward the backyard window and heard — clackety clack clack … whumph.
A little deer running down the porch stairs and jumping into the snow. A youngster. It sure looked like the yearling version of the fawn that hung around with Momma deer last summer. The one that got spooked by the landscapers' power mowers when it was a few weeks old and got its hoofs all tangled up in gardening mesh. We let it go into the forest where it ran away in a panic to find Mom. Then a few weeks later it got its head jammed between the metal pickets of a front porch. Bawled and bawled. The Humane Society pulled it out, mopped up its wounds, and … … let it go into the forest where it ran away in a panic to find Mom. I saw it mid-summer beside the double field, horsing around, jumping from one mother doe to another, suckling both of them. Then some dogs came around and … … it ran away into the forest all in a panic to find Mom. The little Goofus. Mind you when you're a deer, it's better to panic and run then hesitate and be sorry. Goofus decided to finish vacuuming around the birdfeeder in the sideyard too, before calling it a night.
She looked pretty plump for a mid-winter yearling. None of that bird seed was going to waste.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The Weather Network predicted a clear day with 2 to 4 centimetres of snow. I headed out to Lake Huron to see what it looked like in the winter. Why not? It was the perfect chance to burn off some cabin fever. The first place to check out was the beach. Or what used to be the beach.
Otherworldly. But strikingly beautiful. The Port Franks Tulip Tree Trail was quiet and devoid of snowmobiles, ATVs, inebriated river hockey and all things annoyingly human.
Coyote tracks led single file into the woods. Some empty hophornbean pods poked out from a tangle of branches.
Stark winter blossoms. Birds were few and far between. There were the usual suspects: nuthatches, peckers, jays. Horned larks. When I peaked down a driveway on Goosemarsh Line, I spied some guilty-looking trespassers making a run for it.
Wild turkeys. They almost lost it when I focused in for a close-up.
Panic-stricken and rather homely. But charming in their own way, I'm sure. A light ticking of snow came from the windshield as I headed home. But I couldn't resist stopping near Ailsa Craig to photograph a big bird on a hydro wire, watchful and waiting.
Nervous. It was hard to tell what it was until it spread its wings.
Which it did within seconds. Didn't like humans coming close, that's for sure.
A dark-phase Rough-legged Hawk. The elbow patches and long wings gave him away. Darkness fell and with it came unending snow streaming from the skies. Full-out winter blizzard. So much for relying on weather predictions. The trip home was harrowing — eleven cars in the ditch, 24 centimetres of snow, and three hours of white-knuckle driving. Not a snow plow in sight. Couldn't find the road sometimes. Was I ever glad to finally roll into my garage, safe and sound. Road trips could be exhausting.
Friday, January 28, 2011
It's always a good day when you can combine work and pleasure. It was a perfect winter day to drive around the countryside delivering bundles of newspapers. Overcast, warm, no wind. Also the kind of weather that grounded birds of prey and gave hungry migrators a break. It's a sure bet you're going to spot something in the sweeping sunny fields of corn stubble on Glen Morris Road East. Bingo.
Horned Larks. One of the first signs that the end of winter was approaching. I loved their cheerful tinkly calls. All the more impressive when you watched them wallow through the snow trying to find corn kernels. Their tail coverts were a distinct dark triangle of brown, only visible when in flight.
More good stuff was on the way. When I got to Shearlea Acres in Lynden, I glimpsed something pecking away on the porch. When it flew out and landed on a branch, I couldn't believe my eyes.
A single Snow Bunting. And a plump handsome one too. Where was the rest of his flock? Likely nearby. The first place you're going to see Snow Buntings in winter is Lynden Road. Every year. Already heading north back to their Arctic breeding grounds.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Things were busy at work and for once, I was glad of it. The frigid temperatures and biting winds were a bit daunting whenever I looked out the window. Happy to be indoors, nice and warm. For my little flock of starlings, it was a different story. My heated birdbath looked like a tiny sauna, complete with waves of steam rolling off. The effect did not go unnoticed by the starlings. They became madly addicted to a Finnish way of life. I swore some of them got in two or three times a day. How did they do it in the -18°C temperatures without becoming frozen statues? First they had a drink to warm up.
Then they dipped in a toe.
Jumped in with both feet!
Got the back done too.
Squealing and raucous behaviour! Pool party!
Afterwards they shook their feathers as hard as they could, flew a bit in a circle, and came back for a snack of peanut butter. Hilarious little scamps. There had been one near-fatal bird bath incident a few weeks ago. But it had been entirely my fault. My bird bath had accidentally shut off without me noticing. One starling got in the now coolish bath and before he could think twice, his wing feathers fast froze to the cement ledge. Luckily I just happened to notice. I ran for a pair of scissors, did some emergency snipping, and brought in Mr. Starling to warm up in a cage by the fireplace. An hour later, an ominously cold little feathery body had turned into a cheaping, fluttering anxious-to-depart little bird. When I let him go, he gave me just the smallest of backwards glances before disappearing into the distance. Phew. Fatality averted.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
All the ingredients of perfect winter landscapes. Fresh snowfall. No wind. Diamond hard bright morning sunlight.
Minus 18. Frozen hands, aching back, fogged up glasses and stiff blue legs. The occupational hazards of being an artist. But I counted my blessings. I had the morning off and no one was around in the forest on a work day. Two hours later, the light had changed noticeably. Shadows were softer, colours more pastel.
Just as beautiful but in a different way. I was so lucky to be able to enjoy the view. There is no greater luxury than having time on your side.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The resident Cooper's Hawk took advantage of a noisy garbage truck slowly making its way around the neighbourhood distracting the birds. A panicked flock and a wrong turn. It was a fatal mistake for one hapless pigeon.
Poor creature. I tried to quietly circle around to catch Coop in the act but that was a lost cause. She saw me before I came even close.
None too pleased about having breakfast interrupted. She hauled off her victim into some far away trees. One species' tragedy is another's good fortune. Such is nature's way.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Leftover paints went onto another purple canvas.
There are lots of great landscape scenes in the forest, practically right in my backyard. Handy for artists.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
The birding world was almost as puzzled as me about the pink junco, especially its white throat and whitish eye-ring. Some of the opinions included a cross between a Junco and White-throated Sparrow, or a variant of a Dark-eyed Junco called a Pink-sided Junco. Some birders thought there were some Oregon Junco influence. Oregon Juncos stick almost strictly to the west coast of North America, so that was an interesting thought. Birds can be odd combinations indeed sometimes. Just like all of us.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Saw a strange pink-coloured Junco at the bird feeding patio this morning.
Quite unlike the usual gray and white Juncos that flit around daily. Here are more photos:
Wish I knew what it was. Hopefully the bird world will let me know.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
What to do with a couple of purple canvases…
Perfect for snowy winter scenes. And all the new colours sitting beside my easel.
Sunday, January 1, 2011
Began the new year on a bit of a positive note. Two paintings with new Old Holland colours.
Sugar maples on the way to the Mizzy Lake rail trail. There wasn't a lot of colour left last fall when I visited Algonquin Park except for Arowhon Road, a quiet gravel road.
The Paperbark Birches on the road were magnificent old twisted sentinels. Perfect for experimenting with Cadmium Red Purple, Naples Yellow and Scheveningen Green.
The tastes of chocolate Easter eggs. Don't know why. Easy to work during the quiet uneventful days between Christmas and New Year. The news business folds up and goes on holidays. Time for more sensual pursuits.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The other day I spent hours searching for reference photos from this year's sketching excursion at Algonquin. Nothing. All my other photos were carefully labelled, filed and stacked in my studio, precious records of arduous sketching trips. But not these ones. Where were they? Three days of hard slogging exhausting work in the field, then hours and hours of processing time into the wee hours of the morning. Hundreds of dollars in expenses. Time off work. I had reviewed the photos at someone's house and maybe left them there. And now they could be gone into the trash. There was a lesson here. Never take any work in progress out of the studio. And never leave something valuable where you can't keep an eye on it. Eventually I found them. In the meantime, in today's digital age there is no excuse for not having a backup of everything electronic, photos in particular. An external hard drive is a must for anyone in a creative field. Here's mine:
And yes, there were backup copies of everything. A priceless investment.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Christmas finally came.
New Old Holland oil paints. A terrific Boxing Week sale in Toronto – 20% off! Gorgeous hues I couldn't afford at the regular price. I emptied the kitty. And showed up at the store first thing in the morning. Had my pick of colours. Old Holland paints are the best ones you can buy. Loaded with intensity. One tube will go a long way. And give paintings that extra something that makes people look twice. I can hardly wait to start using them.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
An adorable little Christmas gift showed up in my mailbox this year. Postmark: Regina Saskatchewan.
A Burrowing Owl tree ornament. A perfect twitcher Christmas gift. Hand-crafted by Susan Robertson Pottery. Thanks Carol.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The days are getting longer now. A tiny bit of good news during a still-lingering cough and flu. My band of late-day roosters showed up at their usual time to grab dinner before bed-time.
All fluffed out for those few extra seconds of daylight.
Tuesday, December 21 , 2010
A flock of Starlings has made the yard its home. They went nuts in the heated bird bath.
Go for it.
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