I promised myself I would visit five new venues in 2024.
So how did that work out anyway?
A recent post detailed a disappointing trip to three new places, among them the “Strong Unit” which is part of the Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge (“DRIWR” or “Refuge”).
I’ve blogged about the Humbug Marsh Unit of the Refuge plenty of times and will be writing about it again the end of this month. But the Refuge itself encompasses 6,300 acres of marshes, coastal wetlands and islands found along 48 miles of shoreline on the lower Detroit River and western Lake Erie. The Refuge is divided into 30 separate “Units” or parcels of land, not all of them accessible.
Today’s post will be about my June 28th trip to Grosse Ile to visit the “Gibralter Bay Unit” of the Refuge.
This was a once-and-done visit to this venue as it was a little too unkempt for me. I was and continue to be, fastidious about avoiding venues where I might encounter ticks. However, this was the only venue where I brought home one of those little buggers, in my outer ear! Thank goodness it did not attach to my ear and I plucked it out and put it in a bottle, just in case I developed symptoms and it needed to be analyzed. So far so good.
Bugs are the bane of my existence.
(And that is not just spiders and centipedes which I detest.) Climate change, plus our warmer-than-average Winter of 2023-2024, meant the tick population didn’t die off, so not only did we have an abundance of ticks this year, but local news stations are warning of West Nile Virus-carrying mosquitoes as well. Even 83-year-old Dr. Anthony Fauci was recently hospitalized after being bitten in his garden by a mosquito carrying that virus.
Gallivanting around Grosse Ile.
The skies were overcast, so I figured that was a plus since it was likely humid at the marshy areas of the Gibralter Bay Unit. After my half-hour drive there, as I stepped out of the car, the mugginess of the marsh had me ditching the sunhat – after all, I’d be out of here before the peak sun rays were out. No doubt my decision allowed that tick to plop onto my head.
It was a bit deserted, unlike Humbug Marsh which is full of walkers, birders and anglers.
At the trailhead, as I paused to look at the map …
… another car pulled up beside mine. I was both relieved I was no longer alone, but, given the remoteness of this place, I was a bit uncomfortable as well – yes, I am wary of everything.
The driver got out of the vehicle, then ran around to the passenger side where he opened the door and a Yellow Lab hopped out. We exchanged pleasantries and I said it was my first time here, so he asked if I was looking to photograph birds or flowers or just here for a walk as he could point things out on the trails since he walked his dog here daily. I said “all of the above” so we set out together.
A raggedy-looking trail so narrow we had to walk single file.
Together we trekked along the “ticky” trail.
I noted the tall grass and weeds on either side and told him I had been careful to protect myself against ticks, which was probably obvious as I was dressed in long pants, a long-sleeved shirt, socks and heavy walking shoes, whereas he was wearing shorts, a short-sleeved shirt and Crocs clogs. He said “no worries – there were lots of ticks in the Spring, but no more!” Then, noting my dubious expression, he added “I was plucking ticks from Bonzo every time we came here in the Spring. They were easy to find in his short hair, but you really have to watch the poison ivy!” “That too?” I thought.
A moment later, Bonzo was back from wandering around the weeds and wildflowers and I watched his owner bend down and pluck something from his dog’s coat. After giving me a rather sheepish look he said “well I guess a few of ‘em are still around.”“Yikes!” I thought and hoped he flicked that tick far away from me!
The voice of reason in my head said “go walk somewhere else Linda!”
My companion pointed out a few birds overhead and identified them as freshwater Pelicans. “Cool, I’ve been looking for these birds” I told him, then tried to get a few shots of a straggler. At home, on the screen, I wasn’t sure if it was a Seagull or a Pelican so I haven’t included it.
We got to an equally rugged trail with a split-rail fence, then together we moseyed along the marsh shoreline. He said “there is a seaplane parked out there somewhere that might make a nice photo for you – you have to go back out to the road for that though.” He pointed in the general direction of the woods, beyond the marshy area.
We lost sight of Bonzo, so he whistled and got no response. He told me “I gotta go find out if Bonzo got into trouble – see ya around.”
I decided to retrace my steps at a more leisurely pace through the field area and along the Meadow Trail …
In the field of weeds and wildflowers was a huge boulder.
It was a glacial erratic that fellow blogger and friend Barbara would enjoy seeing.
It must have been a busy nesting season – it’s bursting at the seams!
A place to rest, just off the beaten path.
… then I walked along the marsh shoreline where I got these shots:
Was the split-rail fence to keep you from falling into the marsh?
An optical illusion – it’s difficult to tell the real reeds from the reflections.
The end of the off-limits marsh area.
Yep, it looks like an outhouse, but it is a photo blind.
Up close and personal with a spotting scope.
The scope gave a nice view of the marsh, mostly pond lilies – no birds.
There were a lot of low-hanging branches so I had to duck a lot. Check out this primitive-looking means to traverse the low ditch and mud with a plank and its fishnet-type covering for traction.
An odd, but stable means of crossing a muddy area.
I got to the end of the trail and saw the open area near where I had parked and muttered to myself “hmm, that was it? I risked ticks, poison ivy and whatever else for that? Pfft!”
But, look – across from the small parking lot was an overlook with a nice view.
So, I decided to try and find that seaplane. Given this venue’s proximity to the Grosse Ile Airport and the small map at the trailhead showing “Old Seaplane Road”, how difficult could it be to find?
This was the entrance to the venue, which had the same style sign and logo as is found at Humbug Marsh only the Gibralter Bay Unit.
I trudged along the gravel road, a/k/a Old Seaplane Road. I was hopeful to see that seaplane. I kept stopping to take photos of some wildflowers. There was a sign, but my visit was thwarted by a locked gate.
Since I had passed a marker about a trail leading to the photo blind …
… I decided to make that photo blind my next stop.
Along the way I passed this sign …
There was this seating arrangement … cozy, but watch for splinters!
Finally, nestled in the bushes was this sign for the photo blind.
I stepped inside where there were cobwebs and, after peering through the “window” I saw no birds. In fact, I mused that here I was in this protected wildlife habitat with more than 300 different species of birds and I only saw these two:
American Robin
Tree Swallow
… and those Pelicans or Seagulls (hard to tell from my blurry-looking photos).
Back at the car, I turned the A/C on full to get refreshed, then stopped at the Gibralter Bay Alpaca Farm, a short drive down the road, a stop that was very brief as they were mucking out the stalls and on that hot, humid day, let’s just say the smell was a bit funky.
Today’s post will be a mash-up of three walkers with one purpose – all were striding and striving for one goal.
First, I’ll introduce you to fellow blogger Zena Cooper, who lives across the pond from me …
… in Ammanford, Wales. Zena, accompanied by her daughter, Korisha Williams, recently completed a 55-mile fundraising walking event. These women trained in advance of this endeavor so they could easily complete their target goal of 11 miles daily. Here is the dynamic duo: Zena (left) and Korisha (right).
After reading Zena’s post about the upcoming event, in solidarity, I decided to join Zena and Korisha virtually in this endeavor, however, at the risk of shin splints by overdoing it, I was a “slacker” and walked my usual five miles daily, with a target goal of 25 miles.
Due to the five-hour time difference, my UK pals may have already finished and recorded their daily mileage stats …
… while I was still walking, or even before I laced up my walking shoes and stepped out. Of note is our daily walks took place smack dab during those doggone Dog Days of Summer and here’s a factoid for you … climatologists recorded Monday, July 22nd as the hottest day on record WORLDWIDE and July 2024 was the hottest month on record WORLDWIDE. Whew!
On that hotter-than-hot Monday, they were joined by a friend …
Let me be clear up front in stating I deserve no accolades for only completing half of the pair’s daily steps, plus my morning meanders were on an asphalt pathway, or in residential neighborhoods, not on uneven trails nor pitted walkways. There were no scratchy bramble bushes to contend with. So, if you want to congratulate someone, the accolades should go to them, not me and, by the way, special kudos to Zena because she is blind. Also, Zena did not make this exhausting journey with her trusty guide dog Minster Munch, who is nicknamed “Munch” – instead, she relied on her white cane and/or at times a firm grasp on her daughter’s arm.
Life before and after Munch.
Zena’s blog is heaped with praise for her furry companion and she has written countless times of how her life before Munch was often fraught with accidents, like trips and falls, then after Munch became her “eyes” she had newfound freedom, the likes that she had never known. You see Zena was born with Marfan Syndrome, a disorder rendering her almost completely blind.
But, being the stoic soul that she has always been, Zena went to school, then entered the workplace as a school counselor. Amazingly, she was able to keep her medical condition under wraps for a very long time. Zena finally resorted to using her white cane, something recognized and associated with worldwide as an aid for the blind.
But, that was before 2016, when she paired up with Munch, her Labradoodle guide dog, whose mischievous personality, even while in harness, has endeared him to everyone Zena encountered and, it is those encounters and Munch and his mischievous ways that she regales us with in her blog “The Secret Blind”. Below are photos of Munch “in harness” working and also hamming it up in his Guide Dog hat.
Zena even collected those humorous excerpts to write a book entitled What You Can See When You Can’t See – How Blindness Helped One Woman Discover the True Beauty of Life. If you go onto Zena’s blog site, some of her Facebook pictures of Munch may be found in the sidebar, like this recent photo of her furry companion with his puppy-like exuberance over a stick.
Munch has been Zena’s trusty furry companion now for eight years, but since he is nine and one-half years old, he now soon faces mandatory retirement. Since friends and followers had questions about this, she addressed our concerns in a Q and A-type forum. Zena wrote about that sad fact in this post.
In her August 11th post which recapped how she and Korisha fared with their fundraising walk, Zena told us she now had only 19 weeks left with Munch, who will remain with her but in a new role, that of a beloved pet. She has requested another Labradoodle, not only because of their gentle, but sometimes mischievous temperament, but also because they don’t shed. Unfortunately there is only a two percent chance of Zena receiving another Labradoodle guide dog.
Even though Munch will enjoy retirement, Zena explained “by hanging up his harness and being paws up” unfortunately, due to the high cost of training a dog, the transition from one guide dog to the next will not be seamless, so Zena will return to using her white cane for about a year to guide her in her daily travels, just as she did before Munch.
Thus, the idea of a fundraising endeavor was borne.
No, Zena does not aim to buy an already-trained guide dog, but instead to raise money for the naming rights of a new guide dog puppy, one that will have the same moniker as her beloved Munch. All funds raised will be funneled toward training of guide dogs. The more money raised, the more guide dogs may be trained and waiting times for these dogs will be less. It costs £55,000 ($70,690.95 USD) to support a guide dog from birth through retirement. Thus “55” became the target number of miles for this fundraising walk-a-thon. Zena’s family hopes to raise £2,500 ($3,213.15) within two years, so to that end, there will be more fundraisers, like this first fundraising walk. I decided it could be just like another virtual charitable cause 5k for me, so I was “all in” to join them. The walking routes chosen were places that Munch enjoys for HIS walks, but, as mentioned above, Munch was given a reprieve during this 55-mile journey. Zena’s “eyes” were her daughter Korisha who walked alongside her leading them down not only the pothole-ridden roads, but also the woodsy pathways of beautiful Wales.
I initially decided to do our daily walks in a diary style.
For me, my plan to walk five miles daily (one mile exactly to/from Council Point Park, then three times around the perimeter path, that walking loop being one mile exactly) sounded good on paper and in my head.
But, things don’t always work out as planned when life takes its twists and turns. For example, the “original walk” was slated for July 21st through July 25th, but Zena’s son Jaidan was graduating with his Philosophy Degree on Thursday, July 25th, so Zena and Korisha began their walk a day earlier so they didn’t miss the graduation ceremony. I was in Sterling State Park that day, a sweltering hot morning where I took a wrong turn on a trail and was forced to walk several miles out of my way to get back on the man trail. More on that blunder in another post. That night, as I caught up on Facebook, I learned about the date change, so I just began my walk Sunday, as I originally planned – no sweat (about the date – the heat and humidity, well that was a whole ‘nother story.)
Monday, the second day of my walk also had a minor blip and did not go as planned because on Sunday a police officer was shot and fatally wounded in a nearby city and the shooter was on the run for 24 hours before he was caught. Although there was no lockdown in place, while police officers from multiple communities, canine officers, drones and helicopters canvassed the area looking for this criminal, I thought it better to drive to the Park rather than meandering through the neighborhoods. The rest of the week mercifully went as planned, so yes, my walking stats “got ‘er done” but pale in comparison to my UK pals as set forth below:
Day #1 – Saturday, July 20th: 16 miles (in two walks)
Day #2 – Sunday, July 21st: 11.42 miles
Day #3 – Monday, July 22nd: 11.82 miles
Day #4 – Tuesday, July 23rd: 11.2 miles
Day #5 – Wednesday, July 24th: 5 miles to reach the target of 55 miles in five (5) days.
On this day, a four-legged friend joined the journey. Here Minster Munch, off harness, joyfully races ahead of his mistress.
On Day #1, my first day, it was a gorgeous, albeit hot, day …
… and, since there was no construction on Sundays for the ongoing “project” I took a lot of photos, some which will appear in this post and the others in a later post where I will update you on the progress of the Creek-widening project.
But, for today’s post, remembering how Zena and her late mother enjoyed my nature posts, especially the ones about Parker and pals, I was happy to glean a few poses from my furry friends to sprinkle throughout my portion of the post. That splooting squirrel you see in the featured image up top is not Parker, who refused to “sploot on command” … it was so hot that day that I offered peanuts after I took the photo and he/she just stayed there, trying to cool off on the tree stump.
There can never be TOO many furry friends in this world, right?
Before and after.
Zena’s new world after her faithful companion’s retirement later this year will hearken back to before, a sightless world, where once again she will be forced to learn and memorize obstacles and trip hazards all over again. That pre-2016 world was a dangerous place before Munch and now after it will be a challenge once again. In praising Munch Zena says “this hairy soul mate has made my life with sight loss not only manageable, but also empowering in ways I would never have imagined.”
Today I am taking a different type of walk, a walk down Memory Lane to reflect on a trip to Spain taken in August 1974. It will be the third post in my “Fifty Years Ago” series.
The concept of “Fifty Years Ago” began in August 2019 when, just for giggles and for a brief pause in my nature walk posts, I decided to time travel back to 1969 after hearing and seeing endless social media retrospectives about the first footsteps on the moon and the Woodstock Music Festival. That post is found by clicking here.
In 1969 I also had a first, albeit not as monumental as the above feats. I took my first trip abroad, a turbulence-filled Transatlantic flight headed for a month-long visit to Germany and Austria. I was accompanied by my father, who was returning to his homeland for the first time since emigrating from Germany to Canada in 1950. My grandfather died in April 1969, so my grandmother, now retired, spent the Summer in Michigan, so Mom did not travel with us. Truthfully, my 13-year-old-self thought the scenery and food were great, but since I spoke no German, my father’s aunt and uncle spoke no English and no one paid me much attention during this three-week vacation, suffice it to say I was happy to be back home again.
Last year I took a long look-back at the year 1973.
I didn’t post about any more significant events in my life five decades prior until last year as 2023 marked 50 years post-1973, a year of many changes for me, among them: finishing high school and starting college, my first job, my first car and a 10-day trip to Puerto Rico to visit friends of the family. That post is found by clicking here.
To me, 1973 marked a turning point when suddenly I felt like an adult, even though I had just turned 17 in April that year. I was the youngest of 613 students in our high school graduating class. For me, the year was significant due to newfound freedom thanks to a having a paycheck as opposed to allowance, plus owning wheels, a brand-new 1973 VW Super Beetle in Biscay Blue.
Three weeks spent in España in August ’74.
I mentioned family friends that I visited in Puerto Rico during Spring Break my last year in high school. They lived there for several years on a work assignment. We had a wonderful time as they wowed me with all the local tourist venues and beautiful beaches. The last day of that 10-day vacation, Alfonsa and Werner floated the idea of a trip to visit Spain, Alfonsa’s homeland, the following year. Well I was all in for that idea, so we coordinated the dates and I booked my flight shortly after returning home. We would reunite once again and it was sure to be another trip of a lifetime.
So, in August 1974, the first year of college under my belt, I took a three-week vacation from my job at the diner and flew to Madrid for a meet-up with Alfonsa and Werner. We stayed with Alfonsa’s family in Madrid while visiting the touristy places there, then left on a two-week journey down the country’s midsection, then traveled up the coast of Spain.
There was no language barrier, since Alfonsa, a Spaniard, spoke fluent Spanish, so we were able to stop at tiny towns to sample regional fare or enjoy local entertainment at a leisurely pace, unlike an organized tour where you are on a tight schedule. I enjoyed myself immensely.
In compiling this post, I do concede that many of the photos are dark or unclear, except some that were taken with Werner’s 35mm camera. My photos were taken with my trusty Kodak Pocket Camera.
We visited all the touristy places in Madrid.
We began by going to the top of the Hotel Plaza Mayor to get a panoramic view of this busy city.
Then back down to ground level we stopped at two very busy streets. The first was Jose Antonio Avenue …
… and Del Prado Avenue, where Werner handed his camera to someone for a photo of the three of us.
The visit to the Royal Palace was breathtaking, with a lot of opulence to take in. Hmm – looks like I almost stepped out of the photograph here.
Madrid is brimming with historical architecture, like the Plaza Mayor, which opened in 1620 and is in the center of the City.
There are many monuments like the Arco de la Victoria (Arch of Victory), a triumphal arch commemorating a victory in the Spanish Civil War.
In this monument you may recognize the characters from Don Quixote the novel by Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes. The Monument to Cervantes in The Plaza de Espana has Don Quixote riding his horse and sidekick Sancho Panza riding his mule.
This is the Cibeles Fountain.
Here I am on the steps to the Prado Museum.
The three of us gathered at El Retiro Park and got a passerby to snap our photo.
You all know about my love for animals and, had it been up to me, a visit to Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas, the largest bullfighting ring in Spain, would have been skipped, but I was not calling the shots so off we went for a sunny afternoon of bullfighting.
First, we stopped at the small chapel where the matadors go to pray before they enter the ring.
Before we entered this venue, I told Werner and Alfonsa I would watch the fight, but once the bull was injured or blood was spilled, I would shut my eyes, so that is what I did, while they filled me in on what was happening and when I could open my eyes again. Of course, if I had been watching, I would have rooted for the bull, so best I shut my eyes and stayed mum. These are a few shots I can show you.
We strayed from the city proper on a half-day trip to the medieval monastery of Lorenzo de El Escorial.
After Alfonsa gave us a thorough tour of her birthplace, we set out on the rest of our journey through the heart of Spain, venturing into the historical venues of Toledo, Cordoba and Granada, then on to enjoy the resort areas along the Southern coast, Costa del Sol and Costa Blanca before returning to Madrid to conclude our trip.
I must say that after two solid weeks visiting multiple ancient venues steeped in history with amazing architecture, it was difficult to keep them apart, so I am glad that when I got my photos processed I paired them with notes I’d taken each day, because fifty years later I would not be able to ID any of those shots without the aid of Google Image Search.
Other historical venues visited.
In central Spain we visited the ancient city of Toledo and stopped at Alcazar Fortress. The walled city is high on a hill and we went through the winding streets, sometimes walking, but also by horse-drawn carriage.
Toledo is the birthplace of painter El Greco and is famous for its jewelry, known simply as “Toledo Jewelry” or Damascene jewelry, beautiful black matte pieces adorned with intricate gold filigree flowers.
We spent a half-day touring the city of Córdoba with a stop at the Alcazar de los Reyes Cristianos.
We spent a full day in Granada, making a must-see visit to The Alhambra Palace, a huge complex which took a long time to tour and I’m sure we still didn’t see it all.
Tooling around Torremolinos.
It was time to take a welcome breather from ancient architecture and historical sites, so our next stop was Costa Del Sol, along Spain’s southern coastline, to spend a few days relaxing at Torremolinos, renowned for its beautiful beaches and nightlife. After culling all the cheesecake photos of Alfonsa and I in our bathing suits, that left only a handful of photos from this locale.
This was on our hotel balcony – yes, I am tall and she was almost a foot shorter than me, (even wearing platform shoes).
This was also taken on our hotel balcony.
The hotel’s play area was perfect for a pose by the cacti.
We went to a few nightclubs and another must-see, a club to watch flamenco dancing. I bought some castanets … ask me if I ever used them?
Next stop was more R-n-R at Alicante, another resort town.
Alicante and Costa Blanca are in Valencia, known for sandy beaches, near-perfect weather year-round and sweet-tasting oranges. This is where Alfonsa and Werner retired some 20 years ago. We relaxed at this resort in Costa Blanca a few days before heading back to Madrid.
But, before we departed and went our separate ways, the idea that we should reunite for our third trip in a row was suggested. Werner and Alfonsa were going to go to South America for a month-long trip in the Summer of 1975. Would I like to join them?
We were NOT reunited in 1975 as I had already committed to being the Editor of my college handbook, a job/title that I thought would help me in my career … it did not help and in retrospect I should have reunited with them on this South American adventure.
Mother Nature strung together five days of great weather, so I made plans for each day. It was unfortunate that Saturday, July 27th was the hottest of those stellar days, but I decided to head out anyway, aiming to visit three new venues.
I am the first to admit that I am not the best at driving directions. My car, a 2009 Buick LaCrosse, is on the cusp of reaching 13,000 miles on its 15th “birthday” next month, but, without any GPS navigation tools, I rely on my written directions gleaned from Google Maps, then hope an impatient semi-truck driver does not ride my bumper, slam on the horn and get me so rattled that I make a wrong turn, like a few years ago when going to the Sunflower Festival in Belleville.
So, on July 27th my agenda was visiting three new venues.
The first was a visit to another unit (portion) of the Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge. I’ve already visited the Humbug Marsh Unit at the Refuge Gateway, plus the Gibralter Bay Unit (which I’ve not written about yet). So this would be the Strong Unit for today’s visit.
As I neared the trailhead, the area looked wild and untamed with a postage-stamp-sized parking lot. Remembering the tick that hitchhiked home with me from the Gibralter Bay Unit and, hesitating a bit as I eyed the nearby Osprey platform and twiggy nest that might yield some more Osprey shots, I just decided “nope, not happening!”
So without even getting out of the car, I continued down Port Sunlight Road to The Village of Estral Beach. I’d seen signs for the exit to this community (population of 413 people in 2022) when driving to and from Sterling State Park. This town was touted as a primo spot for viewing the path of totality of the North American Solar Eclipse on April 8, 2024.
Many local eager eclipse watchers bought special glasses like these …
… and planned to converge on Estral Beach, but its Mayor begged those eclipse watchers “please go to Ohio, don’t come here – we can’t accommodate you!” Plus, the Mayor further cautioned about a lot of construction going on nearby – it would be a nightmare. So fewer people showed up at Estral Beach, opting to view the 99% totality in communal bliss at Lake Erie Metropark instead.
After I saw the photos of picturesque Estral Beach, I was eager to visit. I knew I could not get lost – the entire village of Estral Beach does not encompass a mile. I planned to park and walk around, camera in hand. I understood the picturesque beaches were public property. As I tooled along at 15 mph on the one-and-only-street through this beachy-vibes venue, I saw boats bobbing in the dikes and colorful boathouses. At every twist and turn of this road were signs warning “private property” or “no parking” and there was no beach in sight. I knew I didn’t get lost – hmmm. So, by 8:45 a.m. I had toured this sleepy little town without seeing a single soul. I’ll try again in 2025 when the Village celebrates its 100th birthday.
My third destination was Pointe Mouillee State Game Area.
So the question was: “would this venue merit getting out of the car?”
I was skeptical of going here as it would entail a long drive down a dusty, gravelly drive in a rural area. I’ve followed the Detroit Audubon Society (now known as Detroit Bird Alliance) on social media for years and they make frequent birding trips here. As I drove up a pothole-ridden road and pulled into a small dirt lot I couldn’t help thinking “this is it??”
I wasn’t impressed, but decided to take a short walk and see if there was anything to see.
Then I spotted a gentleman getting his fishing gear out of the back of his vehicle. A bicycle was next to the vehicle. I wondered why he wouldn’t just walk to where he fished, but kept that thought to myself as I approached him and said “am I in the right place for Pointe Mouillee – it looks desolate to me.” He laughed and said “yes, you’re in the right place, but you’ll have to go up that gravel road a piece first.” We chitchatted a little and he said he liked going fishing, but had to have a good spray for his clothes to keep the ticks at bay. Of course I had to tell my tick-in-my-ear story.
The sun was already beating down. I’d left the house at 8:00 a.m. purposely to avoid the heat and I had not yet taken a single step! So I thanked him for the info and said I’d be heading out on a walk after I grabbed the camera from the car. By the time I walked back, he and another fisherman were in the distance, fishing gear strapped to the back of their respective bicycles.
Again, I wondered why they just wouldn’t walk? How far was that fishin’ hole anyway?
Well, it didn’t take me long to learn why they were on two wheels instead of two feet as I began MY long journey along a gravelly uneven path, careful to stay in the middle to avoid the abundance of raggedy weeds and wildflowers that encroached into that path.
To my left was a marsh and to my right were fields.
These two signs were on each side of the pathway.
I guess a hunter did some target practice on one sign?
On the marsh side, an area popular for birders and photographers, I scanned the skies for the coveted American White Pelicans I hoped to see – I’m not sure if this was one.
I saw still-in-progress American Lotus beds and lots of lovely Lotuses like these.
The Purple Loosestrife was vibrant – it is invasive and found in all the marshes.
Were there waterfowl? Well, it was molting season, so likely most waterfowl would be found along the shoreline, not flying.
I thought I saw Seagulls but discovered when I viewed the images on the screen, they were Caspian Terns. Here is one of them; yes you have to squint to tell.
There were delicate Swamp Rose-mallows along the marsh shoreline.
On the right side of the walking path was “Nelson’s Nest”, so named for the farmer who donated the land to build the 200-foot long ADA-compliant blind. Donors supplied wood and volunteers built it in 2021 and the blind and observation deck is not just for birdwatching, but primarily for shooting ducks.
There were endless fields on this side …
… and here you see the Fermi 2 Power Plant huffing and puffing in the background.
To the left I watched a gathering of black birds. Before zooming in, I recognized their profile and hooked beaks as Double-Crested Cormorants.
The walk was now becoming a trudge in the hot sun.
And it wasn’t all THAT exciting.
Since beginning my walking regimen Labor Day weekend of 2011, I have long stated that when a walk turns into a trudge, it is time to head back to the car and/or head home. That mindset still prevails, especially when it is very hot and sticky.
I stopped and turned around just in time to see something small land in the middle of the path ahead of me. I thought it was a toad, but Google Images tells me it was a Leopard Frog.
At this point in my excursion Mr. Frog had more spring in its step than I had in mine!
I cooled off in the car and had one more pit stop with minimal steps, just photos.
This excursion post needed some vibrant photo fodder. So, at the busy intersection of Roberts Road and U.S. Turnpike, I positioned myself to take photos of this building with its Sunflower field.
Mission accomplished, a 54-mile trip to three new venues, with only one more to go to reach my “five-new-places-to-visit-and-blog-about-in 2024” goal. I hope the next time it is way simpler and painless!
The 2024 Paris Summer Olympics has 42 types or “disciplines” of sports and there are a total of 329 medal events. This includes 157 men’s events, 152 women’s events and 20 mixed-gender events. Twenty-eight of the 32 sports are considered “fully gender equal”.
Wow! That’s impressive, but here is a game the International Olympic Committee failed to include in those disciplines.
That would be the game of “Pick-up Sticks” … you remember that game you played as a kid, right? I liked it because not only could I play this game of skill with friends, but, as an only child, it was a game I could play by myself.
On a recent trip to Lake Erie Metropark, while doing a routine Osprey “chick check” I found the Mister and Missus out and about, cruising overhead, providing me plenty of photos for a post, but no sign of their offspring.
However, after a while I noticed one of these awesome Ospreys was doing a yeoman’s job in bringing back the twigs, some that were like small branches. The other Osprey, however, was content to do an occasional fly by, then did considerable chirping as time after time its mate returned to the nest with twigs in its talons.
I know from researching the Osprey pair at the fire station last year, that there are identifying characteristics to tell the male from the female and, that females, like most raptors, are bigger than the males. So the identification process is flawless, that is, if these fish-eating birds of prey are perched side by side. However, in dutifully doing my research to write this post, I also learned that it is the male that does the heavy lifting in bringing home the most twigs to fashion the nest, not only scouting for them on the ground, but literally ripping them off trees as he flies by. Then, if they meet with his mate’s approval, she arranges them in the nest. I assume her chirping was the equivalent of an “Atta Boy!”
And, by the way, no, the Missus is not a slacker; she has other duties like incubating the eggs. The male Osprey keeps the eggs warm when she flies out for a bite to eat.
So let’s give it up for the male Osprey, with its stick-gathering prowess to match any athlete’s prowess out there in the human world.
Here are my photos from an hour spent with these AWESOME OSPREYS.
Osprey overhead – no daring swoops this time.
While the Ospreys were away, this little bird was bravely trying out the nest.
“Some day I will live in a nest as big as this one – sigh.”
The Sparrow vamoosed. Pretty fancy footwork here, huh?
Bravo (or would that be Brava??) A perfect perch!!
“Hi honey – I just found one tiny stick … will this do?“
“I know already – aim big or go home! Well I am home!”
Pretty clear who rules the roost here and the next shot.
If looks could kill … look at her tapping her talons!
The Missus sought a more-comfy spot …
… to park her disgruntled self.
Her mate returned with a stick that looked like a slingshot.
Poor guy’s big stick weighed him down; the Red-winged Blackbird was impressed.
He was an over-achiever and dropped that big ol’ stick next to me. I wanted to help him.
I hope you had as much fun reading about and seeing the photos about the Ospreys as I had watching them.
Terri does not have a Challenge this week. Next week will be a color challenge, gold, like the gold medal this Osprey deserves!
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 