14 March finds me stopping to admire the sunset across the flooded fields that we call "north of deButte's on County Road 18, 1.5 km NNE of Bishops Mills." The Ash trees along the fencerow draw a spidery black filigree against the luminous sky, and the last drifts of snow reflect the evening blue in a vibrant contrast. I love to see these fields flooded by the creek each spring. We've been monitoring Leopard Frog migration here since 1987. Every year the frogs move a kilometre from their hibernation sites in Middle Creek to the South Branch, where they breed. Their routes vary depending on conditions - in high-water years the movement is centred on the overflow from Middle Creek to the South Branch, but on dry springs when there is little or no flow through the culvert, it's a kilometre north of there, where the creeks are closer together.
Showing posts from March, 2011
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3 March finds me in Bishops Mills, walking between our Natural History Centre to the house, casting my eye across the old snow drift in our neighbour's driveway and thinking that he'll soon be coming to putter about his country place again. Then I noticed the old red truck parked between the Cedar and Spruce that mingle their branches over the path to the door. It must have been there for some time, unnoticed by us. Now it looks to me like an old red dragon sleeping, waiting for spring to arrive and the man to return with work to do. The only sounds are the rushing tires of commuters coming home for supper, growing and fading, carrying far across the leafless landscape. This morning's clamour of Crows chasing nest-hunting Ravens from Bruce Starling's woods is long forgotten in the stillness of early evening. The Chickadees that hunted hidden insects in the high sunny branches of our Maples, singing their late winter "Fee-bee" songs, have all gone to find