What a cold day today was. The air temperature was -10 when I left for the valley, and with wind chill it was between -40 to -45 below zero. I haven't heard if we hit the -52 below zero during the night that was expected here, but I know the northern part of the state did.
I opted for a late start today so I could spend the morning with Dave and Em. So I made a couple cappuccino's for Dave and me, poured some cranberry and berry juice for Em, and then cooked up some wild berry pancake and muffins. We ate and then I went to work with Em on our, Silk: Adventures of Jumping Spider, book illustrations.
I loved my illustration of the spider's eyes as my dedication page, but Em wants it to be the last page. I chuckled because this is exactly what happens when you co-author and illustrate a book. One wants it one way, the co-author wants it the other way.
Well, at least we both agree the illustration doesn't belong in the middle of the book. No worries. I'll just come up with a super, fantastic idea for the end page and then this illustration will fit better as the dedication page as I hoped.
On my drive down I started laughing when I saw a fence full of wooly sheep and that soulful looking donkey all huddled together at the farm gate on a farm. They were obviously waiting for a late breakfast, for normally I see them feeding in the field by this time of day.
When I arrived in the valley I glanced to my left and found a half dozen bucks and doe's. A couple were darling little yearlings enduring their first harsh winter. No one seemed to want to move even with me less than 150 feet away.
I laughed as one little spike buck, and yes, his antlers are at least two inches, enough to part the fur on top of his head. I think he wanted to check if the milk supply was back, as he butted his mom and went up his mom's leg looking for milk I guess, nudging her, just before she kicked him back. Maybe they smell it while she is pregnant with her 2008 offspring?
Then as if my pity for these creatures enduring the cold wasn't enough, I looked to the young deer chewing tips off the evergreen and noticed he only had three legs. I watched him getting around just fine on those three legs, but I couldn't help wonder how he got around so well missing his left front leg from the knee down.
He turned looking back at me; unmoved by the winds, the cold temperature, or my presence. I quickly surmised that his stance and strength was worth the two red apples Dave left in the truck overnight, so I tossed them to the hungry deer. They fell deep into the snow. I know they won't find them tonight, but they will find them when they need them most.
I moved on and hiked out to Daedee and Dancer's nest, and it was so cold I wore both my face mask, my hat, and then my neck scarf. I was still cold. The wind found its way down my face mask, and my eyelashes glued together from the frigid air.
The one sound I always count on the coldest days is the long, haunting call of the pileated woodpecker, and he didn't disappoint me today, about 15:31 I heard his call, and as I turned facing the south I saw him fly from the cottonwood grove to the river. I grabbed two shots.
I only had an hour and a half of sunlight left so I packed my gear and hiked out. I headed off to check Judy and The Mayor's nest. It was empty, and no eagles lingered around the deer carcasses.
I moved on to Nest 6, and found that one empty, too. I spent a little while with the trumpeter swans and I was sure I had shot them in just about every winter pose now. They laid on the ice with their heads tucked under their wings. The ice was crusted over almost across their entire pond. I felt some small twinge of something when I photographed the swan on the left. Something in it's stare back at me, but I couldn't figure out what that "vibe" was, but I knew it meant something.
I moved on and found a flock of bluebirds perched on the brick red sumac trees. Two perched close together and my lens was so big that I could only include one in the shot. Sometimes there just isn't time to switch lenses.
I just love their song, their flitting to and from perches. always busy, always on the move. They have such trusting little spirits and their colors are shades of metallic and iridescent blues that can't be duplicated. Sorry not even you Pantone or Crayola.
Only God makes eastern bluebird blue.
As I traveled along, I was sure that God was putting on my heart that I should work on my white-tailed deer documentary I started back in 2002.
A day I hiked out into a horrible swamp and stood with a zillion mosiquito's during a West Nile infestation all to photograph a doe with her two fawns. I was just sure that was the beginning of something great. See, that's where God and I differ, his "season" and what I feel are mine never agree, and we usually meet about six to fourteen years later before I see my "seeds" take root.
Up the road a doe running full speed across the open field, and I wondered what had her "on the move" so I watched for a predator, a man, anything, but I couldn't determine what spooked her.
The sun was settling across the valley casting golden light into the blue shadows of the snow drifts across the frozen water. I looked for the best curves, the craters, the snow whipping over the peaks and I photographed that.
I found a red-bellied woodpecker fluffed out and cuddled into a stump, and I felt sorry for him as he was obviously trying to stay warm.
I found nests 3-5 all empty with no eagles flying or perched where I could see them.
I was wondering if those deer would still be laying as I passed back, and I thanked God for such a wonderful day. I felt I had accomplished much and got what I had set out to photograph today. Then my prayers were interrupted by two large white birds flying over the river a half mile away.
The sun lit them from their left sides, and I could easily see they were trumpeter swans heading north. I didn't have time to add any lenses, so I shot with what I had on my camera body.
I felt my heart sink into my thoughts and tears came easily to my eyes. For in that instant, during that 17:01 flight north; I knew those magnificent swans who were being highlighted in the afternoon glow, swans who circled once through the golden rays, scooping up the last of the sun casting it's last light across the valley were the very reason I was stalled there. It was during that moment that I understood that "vibe" from the swan on the left earlier today at the pond.
This was their departure flight, and God made sure I was in the right place, at the right time that four miles up river, where the sun would kiss the valley good-night just as they flew into my view, even if they were a half mile away. It's no coincidence that I "happened" to turn my head to see them in flight for the first time during this golden moment. No doubt, seeing this "flight"was God's gift to me. I'm thankful I got to see them leave.
You have to know I was thankful. By now tears were fully coming down both of my frozen cheeks. I was deeply moved that I had that last chance to be able to see the swans that I had spent the last 33 days with as they moved north flying on the last light of the valley.
I drove back to the empty trumpeter swan pond, maybe someone hiked out and scared them off, maybe a coyote came down, maybe they were just moving somewhere else for the night and they'd be back in the morning. I drove back just in case I was wrong and it was just another pair of trumpeter swans that happened to looked like the ones I never even named.
However, when I arrived, the darkness of the early evening shadows already covered the pond. I looked for the swans anyway. I looked up and down for any lumps of white, I waited for a head to appear, but none did. So I took a shot of the frozen, empty pond just in case that was the end. Then I flipped through my last shots of the swans I had taken up the road.
Maybe they'll be there tomorrow. Probably not.
As I drove my last few miles out of the valley I saw two deer running full speed ahead up the embankment so I slowed, just as a doe and an 8 pt. buck or more, leapt up in front of my truck. I wondered why he hadn't shed his antlers yet.
I pulled to the side of the road and watched five more deer down the embankment and I photographed them. The buck stood walked in front facing me, throwing his head back, and I knew he could smell "human" from that short of distance.
He turned, and gently nudged the yearlings, pushing them, telling them, "run", and then he went to the two does and nudged them in belly and they ran off. He then turned facing me and I could see his bravery just in his stance. "Brave buck" looked back and saw the others nearing the river, so he turned and in just a few leaps he was alongside the others again.
I drove on and the deer I started my day with were all standing up feeding on trees spread out all the way down to the edge of the river. I pulled over and watched for "Three-Legs", but he must have been feeding in the shadows somewhere.
Further up the road I found another twenty deer, and closer to Rochester there were about fifty deer covering two adjoining cornfields. 2008 may be Year of the Rat for the Chinese, but it looks like it's going to be "Year of the Deer" for Lisa.
I'm looking forward to Day 34.
See you on the journey--
Lisa
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