One Beauty Finds Another

As
I
slid
the
screen
door
open
I
heard
Wren
gasp,
"What's that?" she whispered. I gasped too. It was beautiful, almost too pretty to be real. With a wingspan of over 4 inches across I thought it was a paper toy at first. Then it fluttered. Oh no, had I caught it in the door? I quickly bent down and looked the critter over for injuries, and luckily found none. But it seemed disoriented and unsure of where to go. It seems as if it had spent the night lodged between the door and the screen and was working out some wing cramps. We marveled at the colors and patterns at play on the wings and the fuzzy orangeness of its large body. As I snapped a photograph it suddenly took flight. What was it? I felt sure it was a moth. A quick reference check turned up that our critter was a Tulip Tree Silk Moth. The markings were unmistakable. Ours seemed to be a male. They search out females in the evening hours in order to mate. What a treat it was to be able to see one of these creatures up close. I imagine he is off looking for females somewhere and trying to find a less dangerous place to recuperate after another amorous evening!

Wren's Prince

Kiss

a
Frog,

and

get

a

Prince.

It has always been our motto around here. Ever since Wren was a baby we have always played up the old folklore of kissing frogs and magically appearing Princes. When we left Florida, I had assumed our frog seeing days were somewhat over. There's toads in the gardens and bullfrogs aplenty in the ponds, but the smallish little green variety I thought was rare. The first time I spotted a little green, my immediate thought was that it somehow smuggled its way from Naples in one of our deck chairs or tables. But a quick search here-

http://www.ohioamphibians.com/frogs/frogspecies.html gave me some relief. I hadn't single handedly introduced the dreaded Cuban Treefrog into Ohio. Although I am sure someone has!

The species we often see, I believe, is Cope's Gray Treefrog or the basic Gray Treefrog (nearly identical except for differences at the cellular level). Our little guys are more green than gray, however. If we listen carefully, we can hear them peeping on the back porch at nightfall.

It is difficult around here to move near a flower patch and not turn up a toad. We have spotted both the Eastern American and Fowler's Toad. Both species appear to be very well fed here in our gardens and we welcome them wholeheartedly. They do not seem appreciative of our toad houses of terra cotta, but we put them out each Spring none the less. The Northern Leopard Frog appears on the water banks in such great numbers that it is a wonder anything else in the frog family can sustain itself around here! A casual stroll down the line of the ponds produces a regular Plop!... Plop!... Plop! ...the whole way down. You are then met with curious large eyes just visible above the surface line of the water. The abundance of toads and frogs at Hawk's Run is another true testament to the land's ability in southern Ohio to host a range of wildlife that elsewhere is becoming very scarce. It was not unusual in Florida to see amphibians with birth defects, a growing problem in many areas of our country due to pollution. I have yet to see that once here in Ohio.

For more on our hoppity friends, one of our favorites books is Toad by the Road A Year in the Life of These Amazing Amphibians by Joanne Ryder and Maggie Kneen.
Beautifully illustrated and full of short poems and factual tidbits, like the bewildering story of a toad who eats his own skin...yes, all toads do! That is why we never see one lying about once a toad sheds its skin for growth, and it is the basis for the old folklore.

The Soap & the Serpant

I like
snakes,
I really
do...
but there
is a place
for them...
and it is
not the
soap dish.
Let me set a scene for you. It had been a long grueling week for my husband who is working around the clock to get a project completed for a client. We are relaxing for a few minutes in the great room on Thursday evening prior to my husband having to go out to his workshop yet again. My three year old has just run upstairs to put some stray coins in her bank. She comes back down, passing over the cat laying in the hall who decides it is high time she comes down too. Sunshine has been sprawled out in the upstairs hall for hours like a beached whale. I hear my husband's footsteps heading toward the laundry room in the upstairs bathroom. And then I hear a fairly long string of loud expletives. I call up to be sure he is all right and barely make out the word "snake". Hmmm...I think and get moving toward the stairs myself. What I see is unbelievable. My husband is standing just inside the bathroom, having reached for his boots, and has caught a glimpse of something moving on the bathroom counter. At first he thinks it may be a mouse, then maybe a few mice- and as his eyes adjust to what he is seeing, he steps back. A snake has coiled up in the iron soap dish, furtively eyeing both him, and the other snake which is looking a bit threatening in the mirror! This gives me just enough time to grab a wood walking stick with a nice handle. I pass it to my husband trying not to make any quick moves. I plead with him to be careful. He cheerfully tells me he has seen this on television and can handle the situation. And the next thing I know he is holding the snake at the head and walking it out the front door. I am stunned, both by the snake, and the snake charmer. Our guest is dropped into a plastic bucket for identification and covered tightly. A few moments later we realize that what we have is a pretty large and well fed rat snake. A lot of odd occurrences throughout the day begin to make sense. Sometime in the early afternoon both of our cats were staring down the basement stairwell. There was a gate perched in the landing there and I did not think too much of this at the time. The door there is rarely open and I figured they were doing a bit of investigating. Then there were some odd odors. I couldn't put my finger on it but it was musky- like a cross between old shoes or old meat. I know, gross, but then it simply went away. It is hard to tell how long our slithering friend lived with us. I know that the past year has seen very few rodents running around the house. I attributed this to our cats, but perhaps not. Rat snakes can live to be twenty years old, and do much good. We let him go right outside the barn. He may face some competition out there, and hopefully will not find the baby birds in the conifers. Just today we saw one of the hawks fly over carrying a rather large snake. And we think we have had a tough week? There's no way to tell if our serpent became the hawks dinner today, but I'd be surprised if we find him in the soap dish again!

Thanks to Kenny Brooks for the name of this blog post!

PS- You can click on the photographs here on my blog for a close up view of the snake...almost just like being there...almost.

A Flash of Blue

I have been seeing a flash of blue here and there since early Spring...

I am so excited to report that a family of bluebirds is finally nesting in the box at the side of the house. Each year I have watched this box only to be disappointed. But this year, they arrived. They built a little nest and have been coming and going. I had planned on moving this box before any birds had a chance to nest in it. The previous owners of the farm had placed the box here, but ideally a bluebird box should be on a metal or smooth wood pole. This keeps the likelihood of rat snakes eating the eggs or young to a minimum. Rat snakes are notorious climbers and this tree is no problem to overcome. Another pitfall of placing this box on a tree is lice. I found this out the hard way while trying to see if eggs or young birds were in the box. I carefully placed my camera up to the hole, snapped a photo, and noticed all the dirt on my lens. Oh no, I thought, that's not dirt. It is moving. Hundreds of bird lice. My camera is perched in a nice tight zip lock until I can figure out how to remove the insects from inside my lens. This was all rather disgusting and I cannot imagine how the bluebirds have overcome this problem if they were successful with eggs this year. I can only hope that either the eggs are yet to be laid or they laid early and have already fledged. I will be monitoring this box constantly over the next few days to see if the parents are still coming and going. If I do not see them soon, I will get into the box and get it cleaned out. De-licing a bird box is not top on my list of favorite things to do but knowing that it is infested is going to drive me crazy. It needs another coat of paint and I will do that at the same time. So one bluebird family is getting their Spring cleaning a bit late, but hopefully they will still be able to lay another clutch before it becomes too warm. They certainly are beautiful and I would like to see a lot more of them around!

Try Try Again

It has
been
a tough
year for
our egg
layers
thus far.

One little feathered friend decided to lay her eggs in our Christmas tree. She diligently built her perfect little nest and laid two precious eggs only to have us come along and place the tree in our burn pile. The nest and eggs fell out on the way to the pile. The eggs were still in yolk stage but I felt absolutely horrible. Let it be a lesson...look before you remove an old tree, and better yet, just choose a spot to leave it until the end of Spring if you do not compost or burn it right away. The second bird came along and built her nest right above the lamp on our breezeway entry. She was scared witless every time we came in and out. Worse, when she laid her two eggs they were perilously close to the edge of the flat nest and there was no way the little ones wouldn't fall out when they hatched. I placed the nest from the Christmas tree to the underside of her nest for more support- which she promptly kicked out. This should have come as no surprise to me. The nesting bird remained there for a few more days but the comings and goings of the house inhabitants were too much and she left her nest for greener pastures. I later found the eggs with holes in them and the yolks gone. Nest failure number two. The most recent nest blunder could have had dire consequences for our family. Mama bird decided to build her nest in our dryer vent on the second floor of the house. At first we thought she was coming and going with lint for a nest elsewhere. But then we noticed we were hearing her far too often just to be making supply runs. What we found when we dismantled the vent was horrifying. She had packed the tube with three feet of dried grass- the last six inches displaying dangerous burn marks from the heat of the dryer. It is no small wonder that our house did not go up in flames. Earlier in the day I had noticed steam escaping from the vent so I was really surprised to find that the length of hose had been blocked. One thing is for sure, those four beautiful blue eggs had been par boiled right from the start. Once we changed out the hose and placed a new vent cover on the house, the reality of having these four little eggs in our possession hit me. I knew they were not viable but I also did not know what on earth to do with them. Throwing them out just didn't seem right. But I did not have the heart to break them open either. My husband came home and saw them sitting in the flower pot yesterday and looked at me with this look of disbelief. He not so gently reminded me of the the horrendous odor that would emit if one of those little darlings broke open. This morning I finally faced what had to be done. I got a plastic zip lock, placed them in it, and sealed it tight. I figured if there were just yolks, I could throw it out. If there were babies, I would give them a proper burial. Why on earth I am so emotional about these things? We are lucky to be alive after the close call with a near fire. Luckily all four eggs contained a semi cooked yolk. No sign of any life. I feel a little better. Here's to hoping these three Mama's have chosen better spots to bear their young.

New Life

Some

times

you

just

get a

feeling

about

some

thing.

My husband was walking the area where the Morels come up a few days ago and had entered

an area where one of our cats is buried beneath a small evergreen. The grass was tall again as we have been avoiding mowing in this area until we are sure we will not take out any last minute Morels. He has a size fourteen shoe so what could have happened would have been catastrophic. He was just about to place a step when he hesitated. A little bird had flown out of the grass and seemed injured. Instinct told him it was a cover. Sure enough, brand new little chicks had just come out of their shells. The photo here was taken today and is a bit blurry because I wanted to get in and out without disturbing the scene. Mama was nearby and once again displaying her "injury". These little babies are so sweet lying snuggled in their small nest just under the tree seedling. The tree has very prickly leaves and an animal would have to think twice before attempting to go in. These are good babies- they do not utter a sound even when you peek in. It takes some seconds to locate them even when you are looking right at their huge little eyes and tiny curved beaks. They know when to remain silent and this is a behavior I have never witnessed before. It will be fun to watch them fledge from the nest and learn to fly. I am happy that the storms we have had cannot blow them out of a nest. Stranded baby birds is not an uplifting situation and the dangers of ground nesting seem to be less than tree nesting, which is hard to believe. I will be posting more about our feathered friends here at Hawk's Run this week and the adventures we have had with them so far this Spring. Stay tuned...

Ten Minutes and A Mower

I had
a running
hand mower
and ten
minutes
of spare
time, which
is like
an eternity
these days.

We are experimenting with some bulbs and wildflowers in this locust grove, but the high grass was getting a little out of hand. I had ten minutes and an idea and off I went. Wren and Dane have a little grass maze in the shade- not too big, not too small. Of course it is only temporary until we mow through the area again, but in the meantime, they will love to play in it. It goes around three times and weaves between trees and ends in a little circle. Just perfect for a little table and chairs to sit in. That's where I'm off to next- to drag a table set out there. Loving this cool weather and bright days, it just doesn't get any better than this. And in my other spare ten minutes, I trimmed back the lilac trees- not that the children will care about THAT.

Thinking Happy Thoughts

I am
trying
so very
hard to
keep my
mind on
the
wondrous
things
happening
in the
gardens
these days.

I dropped Allium bulbs in the ground last Fall, late at that, but here they are in all their glory. I think these are so wonderful that there will definitely be a lot more Allium dropping this Fall. I believe these are a single Allium, as there appears to also be double which is more like a globe. Some research should sleuth this out and hopefully I will be able to obtain the doubles as well. It is interesting to note that whenever I see these pretty flowers in photographs, their blades are usually absent from the pictures. I have found the reason for this. The blades die as the flowers bloom. I had a moment of despair when I thought I was losing them but the garden books assured this was a normal progression. So much to learn- so little time.


The Iris is magnificent this Spring. These are the bearded variety and this is by far their best bloom since we have been here at Hawk's Run. We divided them over the last year and this has truly paid off ten fold. I would like to add other colors to the mix in the Iris beds so I'll be on the look out for more bulbs this year. I'm thinking yellow to complement the slight yellowish hue inside our present Irises.

I have been wanting Blue Bells for years. Well, it appears that I already have them. I was so surprised by this display and I am hoping someone out there can confirm or correct my suspicion on this one. These are growing under our large trees in front under quite a bit of shade. They are so pretty and delicate.

This little white flowering perennial appears to be some type of Hepatica, or Anemone. These are popping up and Wren has enjoyed picking little bouquets of them for inside the house. She has decided that only a tall green Yuengling beer bottle will do for a vase!

This little patch of mint is very interesting. It is a perfect rectangle near my herb garden. It has been here for a while by the looks of it. No matter the season, the greens on this rectangle are different than its surroundings and I have taken to calling it "the grave site". No one can confirm or deny this little oddity here, but it definitely marks something. Jaime over at Way Down the Valley recently posted that this mint is a type known as "Heal All". That is nice to know because we have it in profusion!

All the colors blooming about have been very uplifting. This is good because the ground beneath me feels shaky once again. We had good news from the labs recently. Our scat was that of a coyote, not a puma. I had just delivered this good news to my nature writing friend at our local library. I was feeling great about the situation and hoping we were nothing more than a pass through for a wayward lost lion. Like clockwork, the phone rang the next day. Our neighbor who runs every day rain or shine, and has been for years with his group of dogs, came upon the cat by the large lake to the front of our house. The dogs had been distracted with something and he ran on ahead. The puma was as surprised as he was and took off in a flash. My husband hesitantly relayed the news to me right after it happened. I had just had the children hiking in this area days before. When I spoke to my neighbor's wife I asked her how certain he was. He was one hundred percent. He had come within 50 feet of it, saw the coloration, the long tail, the cat face. He does not believe it was full grown. The very fact that Doc had not seen the puma made us all a little skeptical in the past. Surely, if anyone was to see this animal it would be him. Well, now he has. Docs wife had also found odd looking scat in the last days. But, again, because ours turned out to be coyote, we thought little of it. Now looking at pictures of the two animal's scat, I am not at all certain I can tell the difference. What I do know is what they look like in form, and I am on the lookout constantly. It's difficult to concentrate on anything else. It is difficult to feel really at ease outdoors right now. The question lingers. Does this animal, or animals, have fear of us? Or is it observing us like we are trying to observe it? What is it eating? What happens if one of our children happen upon it? These are tough questions all. I feel a certain sadness for this animal who seems to be trying to survive without our taking notice. The sightings create a sense that while we are amazed at its existence, there is a bit of underlying fear in us as well. I still hold out hope that we can all exist here together. But it's kind of the same feeling I get with snakes. I just want to know where it is at so that I am not surprised when I see it.

When Bad Goes the Direction of Good

Last
winter
we
were
hit
with
a huge
snow
storm
that
sunk
the
truck
and
killed
our old
Ford
Tractor
trying
to pull
us out.
Now that Spring and warmer weather have arrived we have been working on the tractor every weekend. Running around buying various parts, seeking the advice of old tractor expert friends, and hours of blood, sweat, and tears has not yet procured a running Ford old friend. Needless to say, as the grass gets higher and higher, we're getting ancy. Especially after our beautiful hike yesterday which found us pulling ticks from ourselves and children for hours afterward. The baby was spared but nerves were shaken. Tall grass is one thing, ticks are an entirely different beast. With borrowed tractor under foot this morning, my husband could be seen zooming around the farm. The engine cut and a few moments later he came in with a positive glow on his face. "Get your camera," was all he said. I was curious to be certain. The above picture is what he had found. Unbelievable, and he had nearly obliterated it under the blades of the tractor. We had been hunting Morels here at Hawks Run since we bought the place. We had never been met with success. Had we been cutting the grass with our old Ford I am not entirely sure the Morel would have been sighted. You know that old wives tale about mushrooms just going "Pop!" and there they are. Well, it's true. I had been all through the area just yesterday gazing about the conifer grounds looking for saplings. Where said Morel is today, said Morel was not yesterday. I am sure there will be bated breath as we slice this beauty lengthwise and hope for a distinguishing solid stem running the entire length. It sure looks like a true Morel but one never knows until it is sliced open. Now, the ultimate question... just what are we going to make with this little beauty? I cannot wait to dig into the cookbook shelf. Bon Appetit!

Easter Colors

I know
that
Easter is
typically
thought of
with pastel
colors of
pink,
yellow,
pale blues,
and light
greens.




But I have come to think of Easter as the time of the whites of the flowering ornamental pear trees and the deep purples of tiny violets growing beneath the evergreens. The two always make their first appearance side by side here at the farm. We have had a few windy days this week, and one of them sent the white petals of the pears fluttering all over the property in such a dense manner one would have sworn it was a snow shower. So many petals now cover the grass that it is a wonder that any are left on the trees themselves.

Wren and I went for a walk under the evergreens today and picked the small stems of violets. We carried about forty indoors, washed them well, and they are drying next to the kitchen sink. Later in the day, we will beat an egg white, paint the petals with the frothy egg, and dip them into fine sugar. Weeks from now they will be taken out of a jar and placed a top cupcakes. Candied violets are such a beautiful thing to decorate cakes with and so difficult to find for sale. I never realized they were so easy to make until we tried it ourselves.

My husband had to run to the market and asked if we needed anything here at the house. Poor man, I asked him to take a pocket knife and cut me six boughs from a Forsythia tree growing down the road and bring them home. Not exactly the response he was looking for. They look so amazing here in Ohio in early April. Their sunny yellow flowers are blindingly bright but look so pretty against the backdrop of weathered grey barns that grace every pasture here in the River Valley.

As with most things, I keep meaning to cut them myself and just have not had a moment to get it done. While picking the violets today, their cheery yellow insides once again reminded me of the Forsythia blooms. I'll keep these cutting indoors on the dining room table until they shoot forth new roots. Then we'll place them into some good soil and give them a chance to take a firm hold. Hopefully some day as we pull into our drive, the bright yellows of their blooms will greet us along with the snowy whites of the pears. We'll then have another bright color to identify with Easter time.

Night Music

I had

every

intention

of

writing

last

evening...

Honest.

My subject was one I had really been looking forward to writing about. It will have to be patient and wait for another day. At night when I lay the children down to bed, I climb in with them and read our story. Then I hold one or the other, sometimes both, until they fall asleep. Definitely not the stuff of modern day parenting manuals, but it is my way none the less. I heard the sound of two deep heavy breathers and knew they were in dreamland, but very soon after I also heard something else. Tentative at first...ping ping ping. Then louder and more varied. It was raining. Our master bedroom is the only room on the second floor where the rooftop is the only thing between you and the sky. There is only a small attic office over this room and the rest is a soaring vault of the saltbox. When it is raining, it is the best room in the house for laying and listening to the sounds of water drops hitting the roof- other than the playroom which has the added feeling of cosiness because it is such an enclosed nook. So I lay there listening to the music, thinking about the piece I was going to write, the knitting I was going to work on afterwards, the latest issue of British Country Living I was going to finish. None of it happened. I lay there for hours just wrapped in a sense of peacefulness. I had spent the better part of the day raking, a never ending and extremely physical job here at Hawk's Run. So many bulbs were bursting forth. I had thought more than once that day that what these new little green beauties really needed was a good spring rain. Nature was certainly delivering. I laid there for hours and only realized around four am that I had actually fallen asleep to the melody. When we awoke this morning everything was aglow in green. It was as if the landscape had been magically transformed over night. No matter how hard nor long my work outdoors is, it is humbling to think that nature can only deliver that magical miracle of rainwater. Rainwater truly is the mother's milk of the outside world. Full of components that cannot be pushed out of the garden hose and specific to your plantings in the way that a mother's milk is specific to her child. The rain had the added component of soothing this mother into a deep sleep that was much needed after a hard day's work outside.

Close Encounters of the Feline Kind

Sooner

or Later

I knew

the call

would come.

It was really only a matter of time.

In the past few months I have lost track of the number of sightings that have been reported to various authorities in the greater Cincinnati area of people claiming to have spotted a cougar. What was noticeably absent was the actual face to face encounter. All first hand accounts that I had learned of were of people who saw the feline, but the feline did not see the human. At least that we know of. This all changed yesterday. A woman in Mason not far from where we live had an experience she will never forget. As part of her usual routine, she let her small dog out into the back yard. She was greeted by a large puma. She stared in disbelief- it stared right back. It crouched as if ready to pounce. She gathered her wits, her dog, and backed into the house. For five to seven minutes she had the unique opportunity to witness the feline surveying its surroundings. She was able to use a neighbor's barbecue as a gauge of size when the giant cat leaped onto their deck. A good estimate is three foot from head to end, and six foot from head to tail. She guessed its weight to be about 125 pounds- quite large. The cat ambled back into the creek bed and disappeared. What is telling about this woman's eyewitness are three things. One is that she had what I call "virgin eyes". She was not aware of the local debate ensuing over the existence of cougars in Ohio. She was shocked to see so much information turn up on an Internet search she did later that day. Second, she described every detail about the cougar as normal, with one exception. She stated it has a ringed pattern on its tail. Unknowingly, she was describing a juvenile- something I was not aware of until speaking with my cat contact who helped track our property. Third, and most disturbing, the cat showed absolutely no sign of fear toward her what so ever. Either it was not aware of humans as a danger, or, it was of the opinion that she might have made a good meal. We Ohioans are at a crossroads as of yesterday. The cats are here- they are real. There is in all likelihood more than one, as the cat spotted here and around Fort Ancient is older with no tail markings. A face to face encounter has occurred with the cat not backing down in the slightest. The next call I'm waiting for is one I dread. It may take years, or months, or days. This is the call that comes from the person seeing a cat make a kill. I hope to God it is a natural kill, not some one's pet, or worse. Ohio is approaching a very real historical repeat performance of what occurred in Boulder, Colorado in the late 80's and early 90's. Cougars hadn't yet been widely recognized as residential and therefore were of no one's real concern. Livestock and pets began to disappear. Cougars were caught red handed taking off with their meal- sometimes over eight foot fences with the animal still squirming to get free. Then one snuffed out the life of an eighteen year old student taking his daily run. This got the people's attention- finally. Anyone caring to enlighten themselves should pick up a copy of The Beast in the Garden. I sincerely hope their story does not become Ohio's. I urge anyone living in southwest Ohio, especially those along the Little Miami and its tributaries to become educated about what a cougar really looks like, its tracks, and its scat. Know how to respond- Never Ever Turn Your Back, and if it comes down to it, Fight Like Hell to Get Away. Do not play dead. Know the goings on of your land. I live in a pretty remote area. The lady who had her run in yesterday lives in a neighborhood of 250 homes. Remoteness is not a factor. Above all else, tell someone who can make an official report of your sighting. You can leave a note here and I can put you in contact with someone. The very fact that cougars are returning is exciting and a wonderful example of a return to nature. But if we continue to bury our heads in the sand and not acknowledge fact, we are treading very dangerous waters to be sure.

(The above image of the puma is from the Cincinnati Zoo)

Puma Paranoia

The
fear
set
in...
and
it set
in
deep.





One blustery and cold day in mid December four friendly faced animal trackers arrived at my house to hopefully help set some fears to rest. It had been an adventurous summer and fall around here, as you may well know if you have seen my previous postings, with the cougar roaming our area. I had been through all stages of emotion. Disbelief, wonder, denial, and then finally Primal Fear. This last emotion was odd to me and really foreign, and I know full well I never would have entered this paralyzing wasteland if it were not for the fact of my two little ones. But after the second personal sighting of this large feline, and then the subsequent sightings of close by neighbors, I realized I had to accept the fact that we were living with big cats. Then I had to figure out a way to deal with myself. I couldn't go around always looking up at the tress or over my shoulder. Thoughts of... what do I do if it grabs one of the kids and runs? Will I be calm and of sound mind if we have a run in face to face? I thought I knew the answer to these questions until I started doing some research. When I learned that a puma can spring forty or so feet I decided I was in over my head if it decides we are dinner. If I were alone, I know I'd be more calm, but I don't think calm is the emotion I would feel. No, definitely not calm. It was when I was putting up the Christmas lights on the front porch and was in a cold sweat that I realized I had a real problem. It was 35 degrees outside. Paranoia had set in. The trackers had heard about our goings on and offered to come out and have a look around. They were animal lovers just like me and wanted no harm to come to the animal, if in fact it could be determined that we all weren't seeing things. I awoke that day to a really cold, rainy, and windy day. What a day to cover 25 acres looking for clues. Our neighbor offered up their land as well because my instinct was that the cat was traveling our creek bed that runs through a really steep ravine, most of which is on their land. So here were my bright smiling faces ready to brave both wind and water. I had been slow cooking hot cocoa for them all day- after a few hours out there they were really going to deserve it. Hours passed and every now and then I caught a glimpse of them through the windows. They actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. I wasn't going to feel so bad if they turned up nothing. When they came back to the house I served cocoa and we sat around the kitchen table. I couldn't read their initial faces, but I soon figured out their odd looks as no one really wanted to be the first to enlighten me. While they were clearly excited, I think they knew that what they were about to tell me wasn't exactly the anecdote to my fear. The hike turned up nothing conclusive, just what we already knew. I had a virtual cougar paradise. Then, at the end of their foray, they decided to check out my hundred year old barn. What they took pictures of both astonished me and filled me with dread. Looking at the print for me was like looking at my first ultrasound- it had to be explained in detail. All I could see was limestone gibberish. Then they showed me a puma print alongside the gibberish. It became immediately clear. The cougar was catching a snooze in our upper loft of the barn. Inside my head, I was thinking that these could be old. It doesn't mean it is our cougar, right? I'll spare you the visual of the next photo, but they had proof that our little friend had visited in the recent past. Cougar poop has a distinct look. You never forget it once you see it. Matted with deer fur, it looks like a string of sausages. Their photo was as close to living proof as I was going to get that day, but there it was. It was a relief to know we weren't crazy, but then again, we had turned a whole new corner. Said poop is currently being analyzed under a microscope and a night vision camera is being set up in the barn. For weeks, coming in from the grocery store at night has been mind boggling. The barn is 50 feet from the house. You can only imagine how that must feel. An intruder? No problem, they would be dealt with and most likely carried out in a black bag. But a cougar, well, it's a little different. Even a gun doesn't do you much good. The skill required to actually take down a cougar is daunting. Try doing it while it has you by the back of the neck. Now that I have had a few weeks to adjust to this news I have made a sort of peace with this new inhabitant. I believe it's been here a lot longer than any of us are happy to admit. I think it is having a fine dining experience with all the deer, rabbit, livestock, and bird population. I think it has found a safe place to catch a snooze and stay somewhat sheltered. If like most puma, it runs through it's various haunts every few weeks, it explains why we still see domestic felines in the barn now and then, and bobcat in the fields. Make no mistake, when the big girl- or guy- is in town, you see NOTHING. I also hold a firm belief that if we remove this animal and it is part of a larger population, our next resident who takes over the territory may not be such a good neighbor. Knock on wood, but this one has left our dog alone, only been seen by complete accident, and hasn't willingly shown itself to a human. All in all, it sounds like a healthy individual. Welcome to our Wild Kingdom.

Knock Knock...

Knock

Knock

Who's

There?

I fall for it every time. I live in a wood house with no doorbells. Who wouldn't? Knock knock knock knock knock....the impatient rap sends me running to the front door (possibly a delivery?) then the breezeway door (friend or family?) only to realize I've been had again. It's November I remind myself, and it's the woodpeckers. Scads of them, and they are making us crazy. Me, because once I get use to their incessant knocking, I begin to ignore ALL knocks. This leaves me chasing down the delivery trying to be made once I realize that for once it is NOT the woodpeckers. Or it leaves me explaining that, yes I was home when you stopped by, but that I didn't come to the door because I thought that you were, yes, a woodpecker. If you and I are both lucky, I catch you in the drive before you just give up and think we're not home. My three year old daughter announces every woodpecker to land on the house and have a go because she is now in on the joke too. My husband is losing his cool because he is convinced that the woodpeckers are having a plentiful meal of bugs, in the wood house. The bugs are a concern, of course, but so are the wood shingles which may now resemble Swiss cheese. All manner of heckling from husband to woodpecker occur when he happens to be here during the times when they are knocking. He tells me often, you really need to run outside and scare them away. Right, I'll just grab my coat and sit guard in the front yard to save me the hundred times going in and out the front door. Ohio is home to seven different types of woodpecker. They include the red-bellied, red-headed, yellow-bellied sapsucker, downy, hairy, northern flicker, and the pileated. The type that likes our house is the red-bellied. This is misleading, because as you can see in the picture above, his head is red, not his belly as the name implies. I was happy to learn that the red-bellies often knock to attract mates, and that their knocking is a lot more about getting busy than getting bugs. Somehow I don't think this is going to soothe my husband but at least I have stopped having nightmares about crawling bugs all over the ceiling. November is typically the time that the birds would be feeding while pecking, but I think we may have a bit of a competition going on here. There are quite a few of the birds flitting around at any one time, and while they are trying to grab a meal, I believe they are also trying to keep other birds from grabbing their mates. This would explain the variations in knocking patterns that we hear. We have spotted quite a few of the other species of woodpeckers here at Hawk's Run, but it's the red-bellied who prefers the house over the trees. Every now and again I'll wake in the morning to a cute little redhead looking in the bedroom window. I think it's sweet until he starts knocking on the sills. But at least he has the decency to show himself so that I don't get out of bed to go answer the door.

The Invasion

If it is true that a Ladybird in your house is a sign of good luck, then I am the luckiest person in the world.


"Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home.

Your house is on fire and your children are gone.

All except one, and that's Little Anne.

For she has crept under the warming pan."

Each Fall we are invaded by all manner of flying things. Some delightful and benign like the Ladybird, some pesky like the household fly, and some downright aggravating like wasps. Each afternoon I must tour the house trying in vain to rid us of the pesky and aggravating to no avail. They simply keep coming in day after day. But the Ladybird is welcome, and they come and overwinter inside the house in large numbers. They venture in from the south side of the house and find a cozy spot sunbathing on the window panes, or nestle in the folds of the linen curtains. Part of the genus Coccinella, Ladybirds come in all shades of yellow, orange, and red. There are almost as many polka dot combinations as there are Ladybirds in our house. Some 450 different species exist here in North America alone and they are one of the superheros of the insect world. Eating all types of aphids, scale insects, mealy bugs, and mites they are a definite good source of luck in the garden. Their bright colors are part of a phenomenon called aposematism wherein predators are reluctant to eat them because of prior association with color pattern and dangerous toxins. While I don't think this phenomenon was made part of their DNA makeup to ward off felines, the cats in our house leave them alone. When Spring arrives and the Ladybirds venture forth outdoors and into the gardens I miss stumbling upon their bright shells. When beloved artist Charley Harper passed away last summer, we added one of his wonderful Ladybird pictures to our collection of Harper prints that line our stairwell leading to the upper floors. So when I miss the Ladybirds I look at Charley's picture- and when I see the Ladybirds, I think of Charley. Both add immeasurable color and joy to our world.

Another Lion Sighting

The lion was sighted once again a few weeks ago by another neighbor. This time the sighting was up close and for a good length of time. Though he could not get his camera to work in time to catch a photo, paw prints were left and are apparently huge. We are working to see if we can get a plaster cast of the print. With all of these various sightings by so many different people, I feel it is safe to say that there is a lion in our midst. Hopefully he remains an infrequent visitor and skillful hider as I would hate to see fear get the best of people.

The Lion, The Ditch, and The Dirt Road

The mystery deepens.

While having a conversation with his sister this summer overlooking her lake, my husband caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His sister caught it too and they focused their attention to the sight that was unfolding some 300 feet away. The neighboring farm's three Golden Retrievers were chasing a fast moving animal out of the lake retaining ditch and across the fields towards our dirt road. They were losing the chase by a landslide. They watched it for some seconds before the animal disappeared into the trees. My husband mentioned the incident when he arrived home a few minutes later and I questioned him about what he saw. The animal was as large as a deer on shorter legs. It was tawny in color. I wasn't alarmed as of yet. I had seen pretty large coyotes out here plenty of times. It had at least a three foot long tail. Bushy is what I assumed he would say. No, he said it was more cat tail like but thicker. The brain does odd things at moments like these and mine was searching every major animal I could think would be naturally present in Ohio. But my subconscious already had the answer because my hairs on my neck were standing up. Mountain lion. But how? A few hours later after an exhaustive search on the Internet for disproving my theory I phoned a man in Pennsylvania who is a mountain lion expert. I explained what both my husband and his sister saw, and also mentioned an article I had found that seemed to collaborate their story. A large cat had been seen quite near to our property along the woods at Fort Ancient. A person had been driving along the quiet road when a huge cat leaped and cleared the road in front of them. My expert politely listened to my story and then unhesitatingly said no lion had ever been positively recorded in my area thus making it virtually impossible. He explained that surely a car accident or hunter would have proved their existence here in southwest Ohio. I felt a little relieved, but not much. While the thought of big cats on our property is exciting, I was just beginning to realize how nice it was to let our children roam a little freer than had been possible in Florida where there were so many natural hazards. Sharks, alligators, poisonous snakes, panthers, bobcats, and bears had been a constant worry in the wilds of Florida- and we had seen them all. A quick survey of surrounding neighbors confirmed my feeling that maybe my lion expert was incorrect. The neighbors to our back had seen a large mountain lion drinking from their lake. They had a clear and close view. Troubling was that their sightings had been going on for nearly three years. People had thought they were seeing things. I remembered a tale my husband had told me about him and his sisters walking down a wooded road as kids while dusk was approaching. They stopped dead in their tracks as they had heard what sounded like a combination of a loud animal roar and a woman shrieking. They ran as fast as they could back home. When he had first told me the story I had shrugged it off as wild kid imaginations. The tales were now getting more difficult to shrug off. Last week my Labrador Vishla was barking like mad from his fenced yard at something off in the distance. I went to window just in time to see something bounding off towards the huge natural reserve that adjoins our land. I had a bad view directly to the back end of the animal. It was amazingly fast, low to the ground, with a huge spread. There was something about the tail as it was too long for a dog. My denial was receding as the animal disappeared into the trees.

Winter Residents at Hawk's Run

Last winter when walking past a window I wondered why there were red leaves left on the branches from fall.

Taking a second glance, I realized that these were no leaves. They were cardinals, perhaps a hundred of them when I counted the less visible females. I had never seen anything like it before in my life. There were as many cardinals on the ground near the feeder as there were perched up in the branches of the tree. I wondered if this was a fleeting image, and why I had never noticed them before. Days passed, and the cardinals remained. I felt a surge of happiness, and a little pride too, that our property was defeating the sad bird count reports that were coming in from all over the country. For months now I had been reading with alarm that backyards birds were dwindling in numbers all over America. I come from a family of bird lovers, on both sides. My husband's paternal grandfather and both my maternal grandfather and mother passed a love of birdwatching to both of us. My husband and I set up birdfeeders along with bird supporting vegetation all over the eleven acre property known as Hawk's Run. Almost any time of day or night, bird sound fills the air. From the smallest of hummingbirds to the largest of owls, feathered friends are always within sight. We have purposely left many areas wild on the margins of our land to help keep wildlife corridors open and useful to all kinds of animals that roam the land and sky. Feathers, nests, and eggshells become lessons of the day for three year old Wren, and notes are made in the Lifetime Bird Journal. Along the back of our saltbox hangs four different colored simple feeders that mark each year as we pass our time on this wonderful land. The closeness of these colored feeders allow us to see birds up close that we would never be able to approach in the wild. Twice a day, Canadian geese are seen and heard coming from one of the numerous lakes that dot the landscape of neighboring acreage. Many of these lakes were dug by Grandpa Ray, and it's difficult to look upon their beauty and not say a profound thank you for his foresight. Hawk's Run is defying the downturn in backyard bird numbers, and this gives us courage to plow forward with a plan for the land to remain as natural as possible. I hope to see the red "leaves" on the trees this winter, and each winter after. Hopefully, someday, long after we are gone, there will be enough colored feeders down the back of the house that each cardinal will have it's own perch.