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Ramble with Storm: Wood ducks ahoy, signing in & getting it on

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Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.


A pair of wood ducks flushed as Storm and I neared the bridge over the neckdown between the two old pits.

Haven't seen wood ducks on the town pond in months. They were things of beauty.

Signs of change.

From the very start.

So many mourning doves cooed this morning when we set out that it sounded like stepping into an echo chamber. Not that I am sure exactly what that means. So many of them I didn't even bother trying to count.

The woman who delivers newspaper bundles for our second boy's newspaper route said it was pouring just to the south as we walked down the sidewalk. It looked dicey, but it was warm enough that I took a chance of not going back for a rain coat.

Yet cold enough that I had to watch my step. Every now and then a patch of black ice would pop up and I could feel my legs flying in odd directions.

Three Canada geese came low over town, headed toward the lake to the west, then they veered and headed for the town pond.

Robins and cardinals called as we neared the town pond. I saw many red-winged blackbirds and heard them trilling, especially by the north pit.

Two geese stood alone on the ice of the north pit, honking about the situation like some people Facebook about their meals.

Half the south pit was wide open. The wood ducks flushed a few feet from the pair of Canada geese floating near the island. I am sticking by my note yesterday that I think they will be on a nest on the island by Sunday.

Might be pushing that sign a bit. But in recent years, they have been nesting on the island by late February. We are nearing mid-March.

Time to sign in and get it on. At least for geese.

The ice fishermen still have their ice shanty on the ice cap hanging on the south end of the south pit. I took a cell-phone photo, because I think they will have to get it off today.

Rain, wind and warmth is coming today. That's the holy trinity of death for ice.

The snow is down to that sloppy, yucky stage of brownish white patches.

Doves, robins and a gray squirrel as we came down the street toward home.

Sprinkles restarted as we neared home. Three mourning doves flushed from under our bird feeder as we came up the front steps, and out of the spring-like slop.


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This page contains a single entry by Dale Bowman published on March 9, 2013 7:49 AM.

Chicago fishing: Capt. Ralph Steiger & spring ideas on southern Lake Michigan was the previous entry in this blog.

Ramble with Storm: Racket of robins & Philip Glass is the next entry in this blog.

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