The Vagary of Birds and a Congress of Ravens

The Vagary of Birds and a Congress of Ravens

As many of you have read in national media, California is enduring its 5th year of extreme drought.  While this past winter saw us at about 100% of normal precipitation for the winter, it didn't make up for the preceding 4 winters.  Legacy Ponderosa pines and white firs are dying by the millions and our forest will be forever changed.  

We are fortunate to have a good well, so I can continue to carefully water my fruit trees, roses, and small veg garden. 

Off the kitchen deck, I installed a little garden pond a number of years ago.  It is a repurposed 4 x 7 foot tank used by tomato haulers in the central valley.  2 1/2 feet deep, it is a nice little addition to the yard and I love to hear the water running through the recirculating pump.  Forest birds are attracted to the sound of dribbling water, as well. 

However, as you can see from a few posts back, I broke my ankle a couple months ago.  Along with a lot of other chores, pond maintenance got away from me and it was completely matted with pond lilies and the pump no longer circulated this gloppy, slimy water.  I didn't know just how clogged the pond was until Flossie, one of my chickens, fell in the pond while taking a sip. She literally walked on water and self-extricated. 

I should back up a few months and mention that this spring we were invaded by about half a dozen, noisy, raucous ravens.  Like a gang of hoodlums in the city, this "congress of ravens" took over our little forest and pushed out the other birds.  [While I try to be apolitical in this blog, the collective noun for a group of ravens has not escaped my notice....] 

My forester son tells me that ravens like to eat smaller birds and their eggs, so that explains even the evacuation of our beloved western screech owls, who usually sit in the oak tree near the bedroom and softly wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh all night long.   www.Audubon.org/field-guide   has a great collection of bird calls. Listen here: western screech owl 

About two weeks ago, as I was sitting as I am this morning on the back deck with my first cup of coffee, I saw the unmistakable flash of a northern goshawk flying through the forest surrounding the house and a responding chatter from a squirrel about to be an avian breakfast.  Goshawks are lethal predators, but it is absolutely thrilling to see one navigate through a dense forest, steering with their tail.



While I usually shake a broom at the goshawk because she generally wants to eat my chickens, I waited to see if she would hang around.  Silence from the squirrels and I quickly hung bird netting over my chicken run and waited.  Within days, the raven gang disappeared and a blessed silence came back over the forest. 

So I drained as much water as possible from the little pond, and between me, my husband, son and daughter-in-law, we hacked and cut the matted lilies into sections and pulled it out using hay hooks.  Scrubbed, refilled, and replanted with just 5 lilies, a week later I set up the pump.  Immediately, all manner of small and large forest birds were attracted to the sound of water and came to visit:  tiny red-breasted nuthatches, dark-eyed juncos, mountain chickadees, Steller's jays, a hummingbird so fast I could not identify it, and even robins have come back.  

The pond is still a rework-in-progress, but a welcome return.  I find it truly amazing in the grand scheme of life that the addition or subtraction of one or two individuals can affect an entire ecosystem.

 Last night just as I dropped off to sleep, I heard the descending ping pong ball notes of my favorite night bird, back home to roost.

 

 

The Flossie Chronicles:  When does your garden year start?

Cathy Koos Breazeal

Gardening has been on my mind a lot with the passing of my 91-year-old father this week.  For the first time in 63 years, there is no garden on the family homestead in Pennsylvania.   

Started in 1950 when Mom and Dad moved there after the war, they built the garden and orchard at the same time they built the house and barn.  Both being children of the Great Depression and survivors of World War II, they knew the value of a backyard garden.  I was an adult keeping my own house before I actually ate vegetables from the grocery store or used commercial pasta sauce. 

The garden behind the house waxed and waned with the family needs, but this year there is not even a tomato in a pot on the porch.   After we kids left home, the garden actually expanded in size and Mom and Dad shared the wealth with friends in need.  The end of an era came in May when my son helped take down the garden fence and reopen the land to the local wildlife.

Last year’s garden was a monumental effort by all the members back home – plowing, prepping, planting, weeding, watering.  When the weather turned dry and drought appeared, there was a huge and lively discussion amongst the siblings about the emotional need for a garden versus the impact on the water bill.  My family can carry on some quite lively discussions, even via email!

So when does the gardening year start?  With the arrival of the first seed catalogs?  I shared my bet with Mom and Dad each year – what would come first – seed catalogs or the federal tax booklets?

Perhaps it is the beginning of the year when you start the first tomato seed on the window sill?  Or maybe the garden year starts when the first row is turned over and the first pea seed is dropped in the crisp spring air?  Or perhaps the new garden year starts day after the last jar of applesauce is placed on the pantry shelf. 

Maybe there isn’t really a “garden year” but more like a garden era.  While the era of Mom and Dad’s garden has likely ended, I see new eras beginning with the grandchildren.  Next to photos of Dad in the garden, my niece and her husband proudly placed the first produce of their garden on the display table at Dad’s memorial service on Friday.  My son and his fiancé started their first garden this year and have harvested blueberries already. 

Garden year or garden era, tilling the soil feeds the body and the soul.  Oh yes, Mom does have a small “chair garden” next to the back porch this year.

 

Broken Leg Garden

Broken Leg Gardening

By Cathy Koos Breazeal 

Late April gave me a clear-weather weekend opportunity to prep my veg garden, so I pulled weeds, prepped and rebuilt some of the raised beds, and planted a large patch of flax.  The flax seed, a gift from a dear friend, was a special variety from Ireland called Marylein.  The small bit I planted last year yielded some lovely, silver-sheened linen fibers, so I anticipated a bigger harvest this year. 

Next morning I was off to a sustainable forest conference in Denver, landing amidst snow flurries.  My husband informed me that it snowed at home, too, but I wasn’t worried about the flax seed – it likes cold feet.  

The end of the week saw me back at the Denver airport, hurrying to return my rental car and dodge more snow flurries.  Then it happened.  I missed the edge of the sidewalk and unceremoniously hit the ground.  On my way to the pavement, I heard the distinctive snap of a breaking fibula.  As I sat in a disheveled heap on the pavement, all I could think about was my garden and how the heck I was going to get home.  In that order... 

Southwest Airlines took good care of me and I made it home in the wee hours next morning, then to the ER, then the orthopedist and over the next month progressed from ER splint to cast to a boot.  All the while watching prime, May gardening weather slip by.  I also watched my tomato seedlings get leggier and leggier.  None of my gardening spots are very accessible on a good day, let alone with a wheelchair or cast and crutches.

 

My husband assessed the situation and came home one day with an armful of 15-gallon patio pots and Kellogg's Patio Plus Mix .  Wheelchair in position and our bedroom deck became my garden for the duration.  Tomatoes, cucumbers and a couple cotton plants are in tubs, with radishes, beets and onions planted along the perimeter of the big pots.  Yesterday, I was able to get into the garden proper and planted 4 rows of green beans and beets – hopefully we will have a long autumn. 

Bottom line, where there is a will, there is a way to tend your garden.