If you’d seen me pulling in to Fish Creek on Cty F yesterday, you’d probably have thought I’d lost my marbles. I didn’t look happy. I was ecstatic. Like, bouncing-in-my-seat, cheering and clapping and screaming, kind of ecstatic. A level of enthusiasm that is considered not P.C. in most circles.  Luckily the car windows were closed. :)

See, as I rounded the corner, and looked up at the top of the Cellcom tower, there was an osprey. The female osprey, very very likely the same bird who’s been nesting up there with her mate for the last 3 years now. (I am guessing it’s the female, given the brown ‘necklace’ of feathers around the upper chest; this is more common with the females, whereas males typically have all-white chests.) The same ospreys usually return to the same nesting spot every year.

She was perched on the same spire, sitting in the same direction as always (looking north), surveying her Kingdom, as if she owns it all, and all of the clutter and we people buzzing about below are just incidental. :)

The reason I was so incredibly happy to see her was because I was worried they’d been shot to death in Central or South America, where our ospreys overwinter. Ospreys will sometimes find a fish farm and set up residence there. To them, it’s just a good food supply. Of course, to the fish farmer, it’s lost profits. So the farmers take to their shotguns and kill the ospreys hunting their ponds.

Every spring I check the local nests, almost obsessively, worried that “our” ospreys unknowingly made a poor choice over winter and were shot and killed.

This is especially a problem in the Dominican Republic, which is a deadly place especially for first-year migrant juveniles who decide end their first migration in the D.R. and take up winter residence, not realizing what a dangerous place it is. The juvies who continue south to South America are often (but not always) headed to safer grounds, at least in terms of the risk of being shot. (Read Meadow’s story)

I sat in the parking lot at the Top of the Hill shops, which is right next door to the tower, and watched her in the binoculars. Holy cow, their talons are huge, their hulking bodies and wide shoulders so imposing! They are an absolutely amazing and beautiful creation.

I hope some of the classes at Gibraltar Schools are studying the ospreys. It is an absolutely golden learning opportunity to have this nest right across the street from the school! And the birds don’t mind if there are kids out on the playground… the kids can walk right out on the school grounds and watch them with the naked eye.

We were thrilled in college to have a pair of nesting ospreys 2 miles away from our summer camp lodge, that we could watch and journal through a telescope…… sheesh. What we would have given to be able to study ospreys like this!!! :)

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I’m not sure how many times I’ve mentioned this, but there is one thing that holds true for me: Weborg Marsh never disappoints.

Sunset over Weborg Marsh, Sept 25, 2008

I can drive the whole park and see nothing noteworthy, unusual, particularly special, odd or new (not counting the park’s inherent beauty, of course — and I’m not at all discounting that!), but get at least one treat, for sure, on a drive through Weborg Marsh. It is incredible, the power of that one little spot to deliver.

In however many years I’ve been frequenting the park, I cannot think of the last time Weborg Marsh let me down. I’ve seen everything you can imagine… Bald Eagle, Osprey, Red-Tailed Hawk, this year’s very first … Read the rest of this entry

It was a mighty tough winter again in Door County this year. We had a thick snow cover by December 3rd, and it didn’t go away until an unseasonable break in February. Two days later the thick snow cover was back again, and stuck around for awhile even in the fields (the fields being first to melt, thanks to the sun’s unobstructed warming rays).

North Slope Snow persists at Peninsula State Park on March 26, 2009

The woods were (are) much more reluctant to relinquish their winter dress. Although my backyard has been 100% melted for 10 solid days now, the “north slopes” at Peninsula remain cloaked in a thick, stubborn white blanket.

We had a similar scenario last winter, between thick, persistent snow cover and bitter cold temps. And it cost dearly — spring awoke with very, very, very few rodents, squirrels, raccoons and skunks. We lost a lot of small mammals over the winter. Where the woods were teeming with wildlife as winter fell in November, the landscape remained eerily still in the bright warm spring sun. The silence and stillness was unsettling. When the critters didn’t reappear, and didn’t reappear, it was obvious… they had all died.

This is, of course, the way of nature. A bloated population eventually is pruned down by harsh conditions; the individuals with “selected for” genes (which is what makes them strong and capable of surviving) survive and reproduce, and build a new, stronger population.

Red Squirrel at Weborg Point, 3/26/09

That’s exactly what has happened here. The strongest survived, and reproduced, and the result was a hardy stock that survived this winter quite handily. I’ve seen more squirrels in the past 2 weeks than I saw all of last summer combined. (That’s not to say we are overflowing with squirrels; rather, it’s more a statement on how few squirrels there were last year.)

But the thick unyielding blanket of snow this winter eventually became stifling. Although winter and the sun duked it out for most of February and early March, I was really starting to think that winter was going to remain a permanent state and that my only chance at reprieve was to scramble southward.

But then March 17th came. The last bits of snow was melting off the fields and yards, and warm breezes lured us outside in short sleeves and even shorts! Yes, shorts. It was in the 60s in the sun (which, when you’re accustomed to 20s and 30s, feels like a sauna). And thankfully, fantastically, it also kicked off spring bird migration. :)

I’ve found the perfect spot to watch storms come across the bay on the north end of Door County. I won’t say where it is specifically *wink* just that I have the thank the very nice residents of Sister Bay for letting me track storms from their yard. :) :)

The very south edge of the severe cell(s) swept across Washington and Rock Islands. In Sister Bay, the storm outflow quickly whipped up some good-sized waves, and made the temperature plummet 22 degrees in a matter of minutes. It was a steamy 95° until the outflow line hit with a heavenly 73° push.

Here are a few pics from when the storm was raking over Washington and Rock Islands. (I was south of the storm, looking north over the bay of Green Bay; you can’t see the islands in the pic, but the storm is directly over them.) Notice that nasty greenish hue to the clouds… tops were in excess of 60,000 ft. and Intellicast indicated it had a MESO signature.

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…and a few lightning bolts I pulled off of short videos I took of the storm.

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I heard on the scanner that a man was struck by a falling tree on Rock Island. I hope everyone is okay. I didn’t hear any other reports of damage, large hail, etc. but it looked pretty wicked from where I was watching!

Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend, and Peninsula was arguably chock-full of thousands of visitors… yet by some wonderful twist of fate, I had upper Skyline Trail completely to myself!! Well, unless you count the light rain, 3 deer, arguing wrens, whisper-quiet blue jay and perfect blue carpet of forget-me-nots. *wink*

The palette reminded me of my six weeks of summer camp at Treehaven… except that six weeks of forestry camp is not an exercise in spiritually uniting oneself with nature. Six weeks of camp is more like endless hours of tromping through tangled brush along unforgiving gridlines, pushing through no matter how crappy the weather, how bad your feet hurt, nor how desperately you need to pee. (The latter being much more an issue for us girls than it is for the boys)

But it looked like Treehaven, and reminded me of my fleeting romantic memories of how pretty it was there. (Sans the creepy ticks which rained upon us from the treetops. Ewwww.)

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Flowers, pictured left to right:

Carpet Bugle (Ajuga reptans), Wood Betony (Stachys betonica), Dwarf Ginseng (Panax trifolius) – two pictures – including close-up of flower cluster, Gaywings (Polygala paucifolia), Lily of the Valley (Convallaria majalis), and Wild Honeysuckle (Rhododendron canescens) which smells divine but is all over the park!!!

I wasn’t able to get pics of the wildlife, since it was late afternoon and the light was low. Something about blowing kisses to a yearling doe and having her go from wigging out and scared, to totally relaxed and moseying about, that is just the coolest. How beautiful.

Watching new leaves pop from their buds on the birches and aspens was particularly gratuitous from the overlook above Nicolet Bay. From May 8th:

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Look at that fresh, young, untouched and unspoiled green of those newly-fledged leaves! I was never aware of how many different shades of green there are, ’til the last couple weeks.

We had a bit of a double-whammy weather-wise on May 14th.

First, the weather was gorgeous throughout the day. Prevailing southwesterly winds pushed temps in southern Wisconsin near 90°… however at Peninsula State Park, the warmest I found it was 81°. 81 glorious, sunny, fabulous degrees. :D Interestingly, it was much cooler from Sister Bay-north. Ephraim was warm — 78° — but Sister Bay was a cool 64°, and it didn’t budge upward.

At Peninsula State Park, the ovenbirds (Seiurus aurocapillus) had arrived, their “teacher! teacher! teacher!” call echoing through the woods near Welcker’s Point and Tennison Bay Campground.

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The forest floor was blanketed in forget-me-nots (Myosotis spp.) at Tennison Bay as well. It’s boggling how such a tiny flower can make such a beautiful effect. Periwinkle blue is so unexpected on the forest floor.

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(Do you see the early spring bumble bee hard at work, in picture #2?)

Near the old site of Camp Meenahga, an odd shape caught my eye, poking up in the woods. Initially I thought they were cattails… but wait, upland? In well-drained soil under white cedars? No way! ;) I threw the car in reverse to have a better look. I was treated to early-season ferns, slowly unfurling their tender green shoots.

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As I left the park, I was suspiciously eyed by a defiant male red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus), perched in a rare primo tree that overlooks the marsh.

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…and then he chickened out (maybe he felt outmatched by the car?) and he flew off with a fuss.

Then the weather hit. In the evening, what I would guess was a secondary front passed through, bringing with it strong, very humid, very warm southwesterly winds. It had been in the low 60s at that point, with a reasonable dewpoint. In less than an hour, this amazing heat/moisture pump had jacked up the temperature to 82° and the dew point to 72° — between 10:30 and 11:30 PM!!!

This heat/moisture pump fueled lines of thunderstorms, which developed over Oconto County and moved eastward. As one line would pass over Door County, another was firing up across the bay. We listened to the thunder rumble for a couple hours before it ever arrived here. The light show from the lightning flashing in the clouds in the distance was, honestly, beautiful.

None of the storms were severe. On average most locations in the county received 0.20-0.40 inches of rain. There were no reports of wind damage nor hail. There was a lot of lightning with these lines, which made for a good show… but that was about it. ;)

The summer-like temps were short-lived. By the next morning, we were back in the 50s. This evening it is 45° with a stiff North wind at 19 MPH.

Sometime between 11:30 PM and 2:30 AM, summer arrived. A southerly wind brought crying killdeers, moistened the air, and the air warmed considerably. The moon is a hazy yellow, with an almost eerie foreshadowing look to it.

It smells different though. Crickets and bugs are twittering, like in a romance novel waxing of warm steamy nights…. not a whole lot of romance going on in my little microcosm ;) but it has that sound and smell to it. Almost a sweetness. I turned off the heat and cranked all my windows open. It’s the most perfect song and feeling to sleep by.

The leaves popped at the mall during that time too. Just, POP! on the little red maples. When I left, the branches were bare. When I came back, brand new bright green leaves were backlit by the mall lights.

HAPPY SUMMER!!!

3:11 AM — 57° F / winds W-5 / barometer 29.96-S