WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

The sounds of silence.

Posted on April 19, 2020 by Linda Schaub

Spring officially arrived one month ago today. Of course, that was just a date on the calendar and it doesn’t mean Spring is here to stay, nor Winter has departed for good. I mention this because last Friday we had an inch or two of the white stuff. You know very well that Mother Nature, being the assertive gal she is, was not going to let the Winter season slip out of her clutches without putting up a good fight. The snow we had last Wednesday morning was merely a tease. I returned from my walk, having taken the car for a wee spin to the Park, when the flakes began to fly in earnest just as I pulled into the garage. Snow this late in April here in Southeast Michigan is not unheard of. It is more of a fluke than the norm and once the sun’s rays were out, by day’s end, both “snowfalls” were history.

Today’s post is about a walk taken during that brutally cold week in mid-February. Though I walked every day that week, I only used the camera one morning and these are the shots and the narrative from that time.

Munch, Crunch, Creak, Crack and … Clack.

Because I took the bus to my job in Downtown Detroit for many decades, my closets and drawers are bulging with cold-weather clothing, lots of warm woolens and polar fleece garb, all which I predict should last me the rest of my life. There were many days I stood in the freezing cold and/or a snowstorm waiting on the bus … except for my toes, I usually stayed comfortable.

Lookin’ back …

During this entire week of February 17th, there was no snow, so I didn’t think twice about suiting up and heading to my favorite nature nook each morning. On Friday the 21st, I even made a pit stop first at Dingell Park. I was in search of eagles, but found only many shivering seagulls, whose photos I shared in back-to-back posts last month. Incredibly, Southeast Michigan was enjoying four days of sunshine in a row, the first time this had happened since July 19th, so I wrote that fact down to use whenever I prepared this post.

It was just me, myself and I.

So, in the dead of Winter, during that frigid week, day after day I was the only walker brave enough to suit up and stroll along the perimeter path at Council Point Park, and each morning, as I stepped onto that asphalt, the silence was almost deafening. On this particular morning, the coldest day yet, I figured I would not only be alone in my thoughts, but likely no critters, furry or feathered, would stray from the cozy confines of their respective nests to greet me, so I would be leaving peanut offerings on the picnic table for them to enjoy later.

In the dead silence, I noticed even the little bugger, a/k/a the Red-Bellied Woodpecker, was tucked away somewhere, as his squeaky and squawky noises and tree drilling were strangely absent from these morning walks. No ducks paddled and preened; not a single goose flew overhead, nor dined on the dead grass. The Park sure was not a happenin’ place.

I had my camera in my pocket each day and decided I would only pull it out if something struck my fancy. I ended up taking about 25 photos on this day where the sun dipped in and out of the clouds, (that “ineffective sunshine” as the meteorologists call it). I’ll tell you that those rays didn’t help with the 12F real feel temps with a 15 mph wind stinging my face, the only part of my body exposed to the elements.

On that day, things were strangely eerie …

The quiet was deafening … if that makes sense. And then I heard it … a faint rustling which kind of creeped me out just a bit. The wind was clipping along, and stirred the dead leaves and seeds which I noted were wiggling on their stems – whew, no worries that I was NOT alone!

Even these frozen orange berries, which added a touch of color to the dull landscape, similarly brushed up against each other, thus making a slight pinging noise. The sound reminded me of Clackers, a game we played back in the day with a string and two balls that clinked and clacked against one another.

So I strolled along, my bag of peanuts at the ready, should my peanut pals scope me out from their high perches on this bone-chilling morning. I looked up, hoping to see a squirrel or two peering out of a nest, so I could wiggle the bag to entice them to the ground. The plastic bag, stiff from the cold, made a rattling noise but there were no visitors.

Rise and shine – perhaps someone put the coffee on?

It seemed that by my second time around the “loop” there was a realization by the squirrels and birds that “we’d better get our furry and feathered butts out to greet Linda, the only human tripping along the perimeter path these days – let’s send the Welcoming Committee.”

On my second time around, I pulled out the camera and propped the bag up in my pocket, trying out my skills at being ambidextrous to dole out peanuts and click away, the latter task, a tad more difficult, given the two pair of heavy gloves I was wearing and fingers that were beginning to feel like popsicles.

I kept walking on – finally a sign of life, the sound of the woodpecker at his favorite tree. You’ll recall I recently did a post featuring this Red-Bellied Woodpecker who has decimated this tall tree. He is always “on duty” searching for grubs and drilling into this tree. Well, the resident woodpecker spied me and shot me a rather defiant look as he continued dinging away. He posed for a split second, setting himself up for a picture. I snapped, but the camera rebelled just a little due to the cold, but I got the shot and he returned to the task at hand. In the silence of the morn, once he resumed drilling, the sound reverberated like a jackhammer two blocks away. He looked down at me after I offered peanuts, but he continued his search for freeze-dried grubs … well suit yourself Bud.

I kept walking and there was another noise, a different type of noise which stopped me in my tracks. A Mallard duck suddenly dropped out of the sky and onto the Creek surface. He landed with a thud and a slight skid on the ice. Perhaps Mr. Mallard didn’t anticipate the Creek was frozen over, and the ice surely left him with a frosty bottom. Momentarily that Mallard sat on the ice and I worried he was hurt and I resisted the urge to call out “yo, are you alright over there?” After a moment’s time, the duck flew over to the cement landing to nurse its bruised backside (and feelings).

A whole lotta creakin’, crackin’ was going on.

In the still of the morning, the unmistakable sound of the ice creaking and cracking at the shoreline was also infiltrating my now, near-silent stroll. I stole over to the shoreline and saw the ice, crusted and banked up in some places, a mirror-like sheen in other places. I stopped to listen to the noise …

… and it was then I noticed that the branches of the bent and off-kilter tree were subtly scraping the surface of the ice. Each time the wind blew, a noise like chalk upon a blackboard echoed through the passageway.

Well, I looked around for something else to take photos of, since both hands were free with no birds or squirrels coming to call. I was horrified to see mounds of dead shad, some buried in an icy grave where water had lapped up along the edge and frozen in place. Ugh! This is not uncommon during brutally cold weather where the oxygen is lacking once aquatic plants die off beneath the icy surface. Luckily, the frogs and turtles bury themselves deep beneath the Creek and generally survive – the fish without oxygen, not so much.

Finally the critters began to stir …

Just as I decided this third time on the perimeter path had better be the charm, otherwise I’d just deposit peanuts on the picnic table as I usually do, then head home, the Park suddenly came alive.

Parker may like to think his moniker should be: “Parker, the Pulse of the Park” but truth be told, he is one of the quietest of the Council Point Park inhabitants. Despite his cute antics like shameless begging and stomping on my shoe tip with his front paws to get my attention, he is generally well behaved. The only time you hear squirrels is if they give a distress call, or occasionally, some chitter-chatter when they are playing hide-and-seek. Occasionally they race around and crash into each other, just like a couple of cartoon characters and you expect to see stars hovering over their dazed looks. During mating time, there is some fancy footwork running up and down the trees and the flinging of bodies from one branch to another to escape another squirrel in pursuit. It is amusing to watch how they spring forth and land on their feet – they are quite the acrobats. I figure their angry chatter would loosely translate to “no, I’m not in the mood right now” or “maybe later, ‘cuz Linda’s here with peanuts right now.” There are also the loud squeals or protests when one squirrel misappropriates a peanut from the other’s pile of nuts and half-tailed Stubby is famous for doing so. I often chastise him for his actions, but, like any youngster, my words fall on deaf ears. Yes, sadly there are bullies even in the squirrel world.

On quiet mornings, I’ll hear, long before I see, the descent of a squirrel from its nest, headfirst to ground level. With no other noise around, there is the discernible sound of their claws as they click, click, click against the bark once the nests’ occupants are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready for breakfast.

Munchin’ and crunchin’.

I fed the squirrels and watched their long, furry tails curled over the top of their heads, providing them a little respite from the wind. I heard the sound of peanut shells being cracked and spilling onto the pathway. I threw out some more and knew they were happy for peanuts which they would finish and scurry back to their homes and the only evidence of my presence was piles of peanut shells along the pathway.

Here are a few of the squirrels happily noshing away that morning.

The Cardinal and Blue Jay waited ‘til the coast was clear to swoop down for their fair share too.

Just as I was ready to wrap up this trek, my load lighter, but spirits brighter, I came upon the Mallard. He was snoozing on the cement landing and lifted his eyelid to peer at me, then decided I meant no harm and snuggled back down to finish his nap.

I’m sure glad those brutally cold days are behind us and I’m hoping this week’s projected warm-up happens.

Posted in nature, walk, walking | Tagged nature, walk, walking, Winter | 61 Comments

Friday Frivolity.

Posted on April 17, 2020 by Linda Schaub

The weather has been wonky – it goes right along with everything else these days.

When industry, construction and office-type jobs suddenly shut down in mid-March, we were having some mild weather … mild for Michigan anyway. All of a sudden, many new faces appeared on the perimeter path as newbie walkers gave this pastime a whirl.

There are two walkers, a husband and wife named Arnie and Carol, that are “regulars” at Council Point Park. They are retired and when I asked them if they worried about walking the perimeter path during the pandemic, Arnie said “no – we walk for our physical and mental health and won’t let fear stand in the way.” Carol added “we enjoy our walk and besides, Arnie and I feed the squirrels like you do.” Yes, we are kindred souls from way back. They’ve been walking at Council Point Park for many years.

Lately, since the weather has been chilly and gray, we are now the only walkers from the “old days” so I guess everyone else, old and new, like Spring pollen, has scattered to the wind.

Speaking of pollen, perhaps masking-up is a blessing these days (for me anyway).

Because I’m a bit of a germaphobe anyway, when I chose to stay on course with the walking regimen, I decided to don a dust filter mask I had on hand. The mask is doing double duty: it protects me from inhaling those virus droplets you hear so much about and also, I’ve had allergies for decades and they are particularly bad this time of year. Although I’ve been on the immunotherapy shots year ‘round for decades, the only time I sneeze my head off is in the Spring, when the grass is lush and needs cutting twice a week and the trees leaf out all at once.

I go for allergy shots once every four weeks, but can stretch it to five weeks and with my OTC Alavert, I sneeze, but not those multiple sneezes that make your heart stop – yikes! That used to happen to my grandmother and since she had heart disease AND allergies her entire life, it was a problem that was … well … nothing to sneeze at.

Right now, my allergist is considered “non-essential” until the end of April (unless the Order to Stay Home/Stay Safe is extended). The exception is his patients with severe allergies or asthma-related problems. I am not in this category. Those patients get special dispensation and are scheduled a half-hour apart to allow for sanitizing the area after the shots are administered. Usually the shots are given on a walk-in basis during office hours. The “shot girl” has you roll up your sleeves, you are jabbed in each arm and you’re good to go a few minutes later.

So, believe it or not, the masks have been a blessing as it keeps the pollen at bay.

There is a downside to masking-up though …

While the dust filter mask has its virtues, it also has its glitches. The metal clip does not fit snugly to my nose, so that if I open my mouth, the mask rides up and down a bit. Because it’s been so chilly, the condensation fogs up my eyeglasses, which are already a little dark since they are transition lenses. Even on a gray day, the lenses still darken a little. If I speak to anyone, there is instant condensation on my eyeglasses once I open my mouth. It takes a long time for that “steam” to go away!

Since I have to breathe, and therefore I am not seeing 100% clearly, when I set out each morning, whether on the path or in the ‘hood enroute to the Park, I cross my fingers there will be no trip-and-fall hazards along the way and once at the Park, I am hopeful I am able see well enough to dodge all the goose poop that litters the path.

I must confess that more than once I’ve approached a wadded-up store bag that I’ve spotted on the perimeter path and called out “want some peanuts honey?” Oops! I, of course, backed off quickly before anyone saw or heard that faux pas and my credibility might be questioned. 🙂

Who is that masked woman?

Because you might be wondering if the squirrels are scratching their heads wondering who this stranger is, even though the voice is familiar and endearments are flowing, (not to mention the peanuts), well you can wonder no longer.

The squirrels had no issues deciding if it was safe to approach this woman with the strange blue face covering. Query: so, do they recognize my voice or identify with the peanut bag I am toting? Who knows, but they show up, not giving me a second glance – perhaps they consider it an improvement and tummy rumbles usurp deciding whether one is/is not a kindly human.

Incredibly, even the birds at the Park and home are not fearful of their masked benefactor – of course, the male cardinal with its striking red plumage, wears a black mask himself. The other day I returned home from walking and a male cardinal was on the porch near the basket where I deposit peanuts for the squirrels and birds to help themselves. What a woeful look that beautiful red bird had. So, I looked and yes, the basket was empty. I always make sure I keep a few peanuts in my pocket for whomever decides to “hit me up” when I get home, so I opened the Ziploc bag and put a peanut on the porch. He hopped over and took it “to go”.

Last week I ordered some bandanas to wear for soft masks once the weather gets warmer. I may need to reacquaint myself with all my furry and feathered friends, who may give me the head tilt as they ponder whether they are dealing with a cowgirl or the feminine version of the Frito Bandito.

While Spring continues to load slowly …

The torrential rain and warm temps last week made it feel like Spring. The flowering trees and forsythia bushes have added a dab of color to the drab landscape, so just when I thought Spring was humming along, the past few mornings we had below-freezing temps and snow has whitened the lawn.

Of course, I can’t cut down drastically on the squirrels’ food source yet; the ground is too cold to dig up peanuts right now and that’s if they remember where they are buried. Usually, whether I walk out the screen door in the morning, or begin walking on the perimeter path, it is like Pavlov’s dog. My moniker changes from “Linda Schaub” to “The Peanut Lady” in a heartbeat. And, if I am not quick enough to dispense peanuts, I get the “treat stare” – I know that look. I’ve had pets, and they all give you that sad face, and in our house it was either the Cocker Spaniel or the canary; perhaps the Poodle or the budgie, so yes – I “get” it and yes, I rise to the occasion.

And, if a steely glance, doesn’t work, by all means, climb aboard your benefactor’s shoe!

No worries – I am not cutting them off … the birds neither. I’ll bet the Park critters are wondering why I’m not taking pictures of them. There are no poses for peanuts as I leave the camera at home. It seems I am marching to the beat of a different drummer these days. I guess it happens to the best of us.

Meijer, where I do my grocery shopping was slacking off with stocking peanuts this past Winter. When they had the unsalted jumbo variety, I stocked up and unfortunately, a few times I had to resort to the salted or raw peanuts. So I didn’t need to make a trip to the germy grocery store, I ordered a delivery of peanuts right to my door from a local Wild Birds Unlimited Store. The owner of the Woodhaven WBU is my former HVAC tech. Phil and his wife opened up the store a few years ago. I follow their shop on Facebook and they were advertising free delivery during our State’s shutdown of non-essential businesses. Phil believes watching the birds is a great stress reliever. I believe that 42 pounds of peanuts was just what the doctor ordered for my furry and feathered pals to keep going and going, don’t you? (Thus, they will be claimed as dependents next year for sure!)

Posted in COVID-19, nature, walk, walking | Tagged COVID-19, nature, Squirrels, walk, walking | 49 Comments

It’s hard to feel chipper these days, isn’t it?

Posted on April 16, 2020 by Linda Schaub

In the course of just six weeks’ time, lives around the world have changed immeasurably. It seems that every day we have adjusted to a new normal, as regular agendas and routines have been kicked to the curb.

My life, the least likely to be marred by this pandemic, has seen very few alterations in my schedule. Overall, I feel lucky, as I have worked from home for nearly a decade; I rarely stray far from that venue except to bask in the simple joy of a daily walk, or an errand or two, and I continue to use my pantry provisions I bought last Fall in anticipation of a brutally cold and snowy Winter.

And then there are the losses … I have none in that regard.

A myriad of thoughts …

The current events dull the mind, making it difficult to stay sharp and we muddle along. I spent a few angst-filled days worrying whether I should continue mixing and mingling at the Park and I don’t mean with just my furry and feathered friends. Most all of the regular walkers are either using their treadmills, getting their steps in the ‘hood, or have seemingly abandoned their exercise regimen for now. I had a dilemma – should I continue walking there, where it SEEMS safe – after all, no one is in close proximity … and then the afterthought: do I mask up or not?

Well, I stewed and fretted and didn’t walk at the Park for five days while trying to make a decision. I missed the routine. If the weather is funky, I’m content to forego a walk as I don’t want to get drenched or go slip-slidin’ away, but the weather was sunshiny and beautiful, so, to keep active, I returned to the roots of my daily regimen, where it all began in September 2011, walking in the neighborhood.

But there was no fun in that route, so with some trepidation, I masked up and returned to my favorite nature nook that I have enjoyed since 2013. Quite simply, I missed the ambiance. My eyes needed to see Spring as it gently unfolds. My ears wanted to hear the birdsong, the woodpecker drilling, the raucous ducks splashing around and the geese honking noisily overhead as they prepare for a splash landing. I missed chit chatting with the squirrels. So, I donned a mask and returned, but with one concession. I left the camera at home and will continue to do so. I decided there was no use fiddling around my face just to grab a shot or two. I’ll create the image instead with words, or I’ll use an old photo for that blog post.

The State of Michigan has been hit hard – really hard … and that was the reason for my angst over whether or not I should continue walking. Our first COVID-19 case was March 10th and our first death was March 18th. Wayne County, where I live, is considered a hot spot for cases/deaths, giving Michigan the unfortunate distinction of being the third highest state in the union for COVID-19 casualties. Even the city where I live, a little over five miles square, had reported well over 100 cases and six deaths when I gulped, took a deep breath and put my walking regimen on pause momentarily.

With our Stay-at-Home/Stay-Safe Order extended until April 30th, one of the criteria is we are urged not to “joyride” and make unnecessary car trips wherein we might get into an accident, or have car trouble, so first responders, tow truck drivers, or even hospital medical personnel will need to interact with us needlessly. The State Police suggested we limit our car trips to essential places only. That’s okay; I’d rather not be gassing up at the germy gas pump anyway and my favorite park is just one mile away and easily accessible by foot.

Dredging up the past …

So, it is finally time to roll out some of those photos that have been languishing in my picture files … some of them have been gathering dust since last Summer! Since we had a mild Winter despite the dire predictions for lots of snow, I had plenty of opportunities to walk and get fresh fodder for blog posts.

Today’s post is one such walk I took at a Metropark in late Fall.

We have 13 Metroparks in our state, and they are doing their best to encourage Michiganders to use their facilities to get out and enjoy nature and stretch their legs. Hopefully, folks live close enough to these venues to not joyride and they may take advantage of the free admission that is offered on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. The rest of the time it is $10.00 per car each day to enter the parks unless you have a year-long pass for $35.00, like I have. The Metroparks team has been posting virtual hikes on Twitter and Facebook and I have been vicariously enjoying them. One such video, (geared more to kids, but interesting nonetheless), was about an interpretive guide’s trek through Oakwoods Metropark and a stop to view an eager beaver’s handiwork. You can view it here if you’d like.

So, that video shows what I saw last Fall and then some – yep, a destructive little varmint left its calling card, i.e. beaver chews! As a side note, people think the squirrels are destructive sometimes. Believe me, I’m all about sharin’ the love and treats with the squirrels at the Park and the house these days, but I have had battles with them in the past, as they ravaged my bird feeders while the poor birds perched on the fence and looked helplessly on. You’ll recall a couple of months ago I wrote how squirrels chewed the phone line and I lost my landline connection. Squirrels are no angels, but they sure don’t destroy a tree like a beaver does.

Before I conclude this post, I took a few minutes to match my thoughts to these photos from last Fall’s hike through the woods.

Throughout dismal days and abysmal stats, those front line workers, whether they are first responders, healthcare personnel, or workers bustling about to load up store shelves – all should be given kudos, for they are heroes and truly a cut above the rest of us.

Though we non-essential workers and retirees are now apt to hunker down and not stray far from our homes, to many, the days have begun running together as we move forward collectively in a circle, like automatons.

As we read and hear the daily stats, our hearts have ached and tension built – fear gnawed at our very souls …

… leaving us feeling vulnerable, nerves raw and ragged, wondering if we’d been exposed, or would be next?

It’s just been a tangled mess.

We often think we cannot see the forest for the trees. For now, we hang onto hope that soon we will return to normalcy and those things that we always took for granted and which give us happiness … our simple routines, even the human touch of our loved ones, will return. One day things will be cut and dried and may this never happen again in our lifetime.

Posted in COVID-19, nature, walk, walking | Tagged beavers, COVID-19, nature, walk, walking | 80 Comments

April 15th, f/k/a Tax Day. #Wordless Wednesday. #My year-round, peanut-eating dependents!

Posted on April 15, 2020 by Linda Schaub

Wordless Wednesday – Allow your photo(s) to tell the story.

Posted in #Wordless Wednesday, event, nature, walk, walking | Tagged #Wordless Wednesday, Dependents, nature, Tax Day, walk, walking | 33 Comments

Just hoppin’ by to say …

Posted on April 12, 2020 by Linda Schaub

and also to forward a link to my blog post done yesterday. It is all about Easter and The Great Easter Cookie Caper. Once again I posted around 5:45 p.m. – the post is not going to Reader, even all these hours later, though non-Reader followers are receiving the post … I have contacted WordPress and they say it is there and sent a screenshot. It is not there and I have looked using three different browsers. I have tried all the suggestions they made and I am at a loss. I do have lots of posts I want to do, but would like to find a solution to this dilemma first. Here is the link; I’m not going to embed it:

The Great Easter Cookie Caper.

I’m heading out for a walk – as my furry friend says “HOPPY EASTER!”

Posted in holiday, nature, walk, walking | Tagged Easter, holiday, nature, walk, walking | 38 Comments

The Great Easter Cookie Caper.

Posted on April 11, 2020 by Linda Schaub

This post is about two incidents this week, in what I’ll term “The Great Easter Cookie Caper” and I hope you get a giggle or two out of it, simply because laughs are not in abundance these days.

So it’s not a bunny trail, or even a bunny tail … but another squirrel tale.

A little backstory.

I get a kick out of the antics of Parker, my favorite squirrel at Council Point Park. After he delighted in the Christmas tree-shaped cookie and the Valentine’s Day heart-shaped cookie, I decided I must do something special for Easter for my furry pals. Then I decided why not focus on the cute squirrels that hang out at the house?

Even before COVID-19 entered our lives, I had bought the “fixin’s” for holiday cookies. Those ingredients would be Nutter Butter cookies, walnuts, pistachios and pink icing.

Monday morning was warm and wonderful – a real treat temp-wise and sunshiny as well, so I hurried and made a batch of cookies … “made” being the operative word here.

I like Nutter Butters, those peanut-flavored sandwich cookies with peanut cream in between and bought them for a Fat Tuesday treat for myself, but it was still Lent after all, so I was not tempted by these peanutty cookies, sweet icing smell and aroma of nuts. I slathered pink icing onto the surface of the cookies using that icing to “glue” in the nuts. I even made a plain, nut-free version in case someone had a “nut allergy” as I aimed not to disappoint.

I thought they were kind of cute and decided if I get invited somewhere, these would be my contribution as they are my kind of recipe – simple.

So I hurried outside, camera in hand and laid them on the driveway pavement. There was shade on the porch, so I needed to use the driveway where it was sunny. I crossed my fingers the mail carrier did not arrive and I needed to request he be careful not to squash my creation.

I took some pictures of this cache of creativity.

Pretty in pink … but no one showed up.

Hmm – that title may sound like a lament from a teenager when she dressed for the prom in a pink gown and her date stood her up – no, it is the pink cookies and the squirrels were MIA. Any other time, I open the door and am greeted by a passel of squirrels coming to greet me with expectant faces; and, if I am later than usual, they might even have front paws crossed and tapping one foot. Just sayin’. They are pretty prompt when it comes to their peanuts. Even the jays, cardinals and sparrows position themselves in the neighbor’s tree until peanuts are dispensed. Then, with more nerve than you’d believe, they even scamper or fly over when I return from walking, like it was the first time they saw me that day.

So there I stood, camera in hand, waiting by a stash of squirrel goodies … after a while, even I was a realist – no one was going to be chowing down on the cookies and it was an idea that was better left in my head.

I blamed it on the Cooper’s Hawk and suspected one had been around and my peanut-eating pals were spooked, although these munchkins ARE known to be a bit squirrelly sometimes.

I waited a half hour and no furry or feathered visitors arrived, so I put some peanuts in the shell in the basket out front and went into the house. Clearly it was not ready for prime time yet.

I even stole back to the front door, just before starting work, but alas – the treats were untouched. Then I worried a little about my pals – I clearly suspected a Cooper’s Hawk was out and about.

I started to work and was on a phone call for about 3/4s of an hour. While on the phone, I heard a loud banging on the front door. Annoyed, as the noise distracted me from the conversation, when I finally ended the call, I marched to the door, expecting to find a handbill tucked in the door handle. But no – it was my Amazon order which arrived two days early. Hmm.

But wait … the box, (fairly large, though you can’t tell from the picture the courier sent upon delivery), was surrounded by squirrels. One had a paw on the top, another was investigating the perimeter and oh look – there was Grady the Gray Squirrel on the top step, on haunches and begging for peanuts, a plaintive look on his furry face. Even the bald squirrel, now sporting some peach fuzz and emboldened by this new fur, so not so timid now, was perched on a corner of the porch leisurely eating a cookie. A glance over to the driveway told me he had the last cookie, the rest of the treats having been devoured sometime between 9:30 and 12:30.

First things first – “thank you for being like watchdogs and making sure no porch pirates ran off with the box – you all are worth your weight in peanuts” I told them. They moved in closer, on the guise of curiosity about the box, but more likely to get more peanuts dropped next to their paws – I’m no dummy.

Well, I wanted to empty the contents of the cardboard box and leave the box outside at the side of the house. I slit open the box and it was filled with packing materials so I scurried off to get a bag to put them in, and returned just a minute later to discover squirrels either peering over the side of the box or playing with the packing materials. “Where were you guys when I so patiently waited for you?” I asked. I’d have loved to grab the camera, but I needed to get back to work, so I shooed them away, gave out more peanuts to keep them occupied and set out to empty the box.

Well, smart cookies don’t crumble.

When I got back into the house, and back to my work, I thought about what just transpired and had a good laugh. I decided I needed to repeat the exercise as I didn’t want to just post the photo of the cookies alone – so yesterday became the day for …

Take Two.

I made another batch of Easter Egg cookies yesterday, adding some more intricacies to the design. By doing so, I was ensuring these nine cookies looked different for the second picture – no fudging here. Speaking of fudge, no chocolate was used for these treats – the icing was minimal, just enough to “glue” the nuts to the Nutter Butters, nothing to harm my nutty buddies.

I put the remaining walnuts, pistachios and some sunflower seed hearts in one cup and some peanuts in the shell in the other – it is Easter after all, so I was generous with the squirts.

That task accomplished, I had to get dressed and my butt in gear, with several factors coming into play, such as getting out before the mail man arrived as I didn’t want to say “um, please don’t step on the squirrel treats” and there should be a little sun, not wet pavement, a squirrel or two, or three – well you get it. The criteria had a little wiggle room – it was really cold! We had a 21F (-6C) wind chill – it’s early April in Michigan, and so what if 36 hours earlier we had enjoyed a 70-degree F (21 C) day! In my haste to get outside, I did not really factor in the wind which was clipping along, with occasional gusts to 20 mph (32 kph). At times I had to brace myself with my feet wide apart to steady the camera as the wind buffeted me around. If the icing wasn’t totally dry in the house, it sure would be now, so no furry faces would be smudged by pink icing, even their whiskers would remain pristine.

The plate of cookies and two cups necessitated several trips out front as I didn’t want to spill or drop anything. Then I had to return to lock the back door. In the split second I was gone, one of the black squirrels came a’callin’. I rounded the corner and he saw me, taking off in a heartbeat, telltale walnut pieces spilling onto the doorstop where he had knocked over the cup.

I spread out the goodies and it took a few minutes ‘til the posse started circling around the treats. A nibble here or there, an appetizer of strictly peanuts …

“C’mon guys – be adventurous, live a little” I urged them.

Finally one squirrel sampled a cookie with an appreciative sniff first…

… then ran with it clenched in its teeth, over to the nearest tree.

Because you never know if another squirrel will happen along and swipe that treat from your paws, it’s best to scurry up the tree as fast as you can and enjoy your cookie in peace and solitude.

This Fox squirrel quickly followed suit.

Was that Nutter Butter deluxe destined to feed the whole family? Nope, it seemed it was noshed on forever, and I am sure it was savored in its entirety by each squirrel, and not shared. I noticed that once they had the cookie in hand, er … paw, they didn’t come to the ground again.

I mused the squirrels’ tails were as laid back as they were, stabilizing themselves in the high winds, while noshing nuts, especially on a low tree branch.

I left my furry and feathered friends in a state of nut nirvana!

These are two different black squirrels, each enjoying a treat.

I got ‘er done, scattered the rest of the walnuts and pistachios and some peanuts in the place where I usually feed them, then I headed into the house.

Happy Easter to you all.

Posted in holiday, nature | Tagged Cookies, Easter, nature, Squirrels | 49 Comments

Silent Sentiments #Wordless Wednesday #Chalkyourwalk

Posted on April 8, 2020 by Linda Schaub

Wordless Wednesday – allow your photo(s) to tell the story.

Posted in #Wordless Wednesday, COVID-19, walk, walking | Tagged #ChalkYourWalk, #Wordless Wednesday, inspiration, walk, walking | 32 Comments

Nope, not just a fish tale.

Posted on April 3, 2020 by Linda Schaub

My apologies to the folks who subscribe to this blog via e-mail or another means, as they will receive this post twice today. I am having problems once again with a post not showing up in Reader. The WordPress Happiness Engineers tried clearing the cache at their end, but this post which I published at 8:00 a.m. today is still not showing up in Reader.

WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

It is the Lenten season; it is Friday … and for sure we need a diversion, so I am offering up this catch-of-the-day fish tale for my post-of-the-day.

This trek actually happened last Friday, March 27th. I ventured out after it had rained from Thursday afternoon, throughout the night, stopping just short of dawn. It was dreary, drab, dull and damp- how’s that for a description? It looked as if it would pour raining any minute, as dark clouds were brooding overhead.

I got to Council Point Park, opened up my bag of peanuts and looked for my furry and feathered friends as no one came over to see me. Even the smell of fresh peanuts wafting out of the bag did not entice any peanut participants, so I ambled along the perimeter path, alone on the asphalt and alone in my thoughts.

The perimeter path is about ten feet…

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Posted in Uncategorized | 29 Comments

Nope, not just a fish tale.

Posted on April 3, 2020 by Linda Schaub

It is the Lenten season; it is Friday … and for sure we need a diversion, so I am offering up this catch-of-the-day fish tale for my post-of-the-day.

The perimeter path is about ten feet wide. While I didn’t take a yardstick with me, I stomped across in my heavy walking shoes and that was around eleven of MY feet, so I’m guessing it is a ten-foot-wide path. I figured since no one was looking, I could measure it … for social distancing purposes you know.

The Park looked a little desolate – no walkers, no critters. The playground equipment had been taped off with bright-yellow caution tape, similar to what the police use to cordon off a crime site. I had read on social media this practice was instituted statewide the day before.

Out of the corner of my eye I finally saw a sign of life, a big, fat Robin tugging on an equally big, fat worm. The torrential rain had pounded into the ground softening the earth and I could sense that Robin’s glee about its discovery. I was treated to a surly, if not cautionary, look as I approached, as if to say “just touch my worm Girly – don’t even think of it!” Robins always have that bad boy demeanor don’t they? They look at you face on, like the stern librarian did when you dared to utter a few words in the hallowed halls of the local library – at least that’s how it was when I was growing up.

I kind of chuckled to myself at the antics as the worm held its own, resisting mightily against each of the Robin’s tugs. I didn’t want to witness the gory final slurp, so I continued on my way. I rounded the bend over near the Creek and heard some birds tuning up, first the Red-Winged Blackbird trilling in the chilly morning air and then a Song Sparrow or two with a range of melodic notes. Great – I no longer felt so alone out there on the path, but still no squirrels.

Seeing none of my Park furry friends these days is worrisome for this squirrel lover. Sadly, I’ve learned to scan the not-so-friendly skies above the Park lately, since the Cooper’s Hawk has been trolling almost daily. I see this pesky bird of prey gliding about, surveying the premises for its next capture. I feel a little sick every time I witness a Hawk glaring down from the electrical towers or a tall tree. Just then, a Cooper’s Hawk passed overhead. “Aah” I thought, “that explains why the welcoming committee is MIA this morning.” The Hawk glided effortlessly, a dark blotch in the gray sky, and, as he tilted his wings ever so slightly, I noticed some small birds, likely Sparrows, take a quick detour, scattering in the wind, not unlike when a cue ball sends the billiard balls across the felt surface of a pool table in one quick motion.

But the closer I got to the trees on the other side of the “loop” a Blue Jay looked down from his high perch and screeched – wow, what a brave boy he was, fearless of the Hawk! Then a second screech – so was that a disgruntled noise since a Hawk was present in the Park, or just my cue to get cracking and give him some peanuts?

I didn’t take the camera out, as it was too gray of a day to do so, but I rose to the request and feeling generous, I let three peanuts tumble to the path. That Jay blitzed down to the ground in a heartbeat, politely surveying the booty, then picking up one scraggly looking peanut, quickly tossing it aside in favor of a longer peanut (perhaps a triple-nut prize). That picky Jay then flew away, the coveted peanut clenched in its long and lethal-looking beak. The Cardinal who previously had held back, somewhat timid of the imposing Jay, soon swooped down for the leftovers.

I sighed, sorry I had not taken the camera out, but there would be other bird photo ops.

The avian action continued when a Downy Woodpecker was content to peck away at the damp wood on its tree and paid me no mind and neither did a White-Breasted Nuthatch who surveyed me from its upside down pose. It was the first time to see these type of birds and it was a real treat. They were both at eye level; of course, once again I reckoned these would have made pretty good shots, had I simply taken the camera out of the case and had it at the ready.

“They’ll be other shots down the road” I told myself.

The Red-Bellied Woodpecker peered at me from the dead tree as he had heard the Jay calling. Interestingly he created a “first” for me at my favorite nature nook by doing a flyover and zooming down to the ground. Now this has happened at the “Birdie Nirvana station” at Elizabeth Park – never at this venue though. Once again I cursed myself for not having the camera handy.

“They’ll be other shots down the road” I told myself.

As I neared the cement landing, just as I always do, I peered between the bushes looking for Harry the Heron, but instead of that gangly bird, I saw a chair on the cement ledge and knew there must be a fisherman there.

But I didn’t see anyone right away, just the chair. “Hope he didn’t fall in!” I thought. I rounded the bend and saw a young man crouched down on the ledge with a big dip net floating on top of the water. Two fishing rods were propped up against the nearby wall. I stood and watched thinking “you’re dreaming Buddy – there’s no way you need that for the shad, those tiny silver fish about the size of minnows!” Luckily I didn’t voice my opinion as suddenly, he scooped up a huge fish.

I stood and watched as there was a lot of movement in the water. Mere seconds later, he lifted the net and a huge fish was flailing around inside it. He set the net onto the cement landing and the fish continued thrashing about. By now, a walker appeared out of nowhere, coming from the opposite direction on the path, saw the action and we both stood there, transfixed with our eyes glued to the fish in the net. The young man picked his fish up with both hands, as he cradled the catch of the day in his arms. Finally the fish relaxed just a little …

Ever your roving reporter, I said “I’ve been walking in this Park since 2013 and have never seen a fish this size – it’s mostly just shad. I write a blog about walking – can I get your picture?” These words spilled out of my mouth while unzipping my coat, then wiggling my left hand into the vest’s zippered pocket to retrieve the camera. “Sure” he said and belatedly I saw the other walker had already pulled his phone out and was taking a picture or video. Remembering my “who, what, where, when, why and how” from my school days eons ago, I fired off questions like “what kind of fish it is?” It was a Carp we were told. Then I asked “how much do you think it weighs?” He struggled to keep the fish from flopping onto the ground, but picked it up and held it – it had to be two feet big! He didn’t tell me how much it weighed, it was wiggling around too much.

The fisherman handled that fish with one arm and hand while he grabbed his phone and handed it over to the other walker asking “would you mind taking a photo for me Bro?” The guy did so, then the fisherman bent down close to the water and released the fish (who got the heck out of Dodge before the guy changed his mind). I said “I thought you might be keeping it for a Friday fish fry for Lent” and he laughed and said “no, the water’s not safe.” I agreed – the Creek water is dank and dark. The fisherman watched his prize fish until the water was still again.

By now we were all standing fairly close and I turned to both and said “yikes – we forgot all about social distancing – we were all so caught up in the moment!” The fisherman piped up with “I’m clean” and we both hurried to announce ourselves as “clean” as well. Then we all had a little laugh over it. The other walker said “it’s human nature – we were enjoying this fish story too much!”

I told them to stay safe, which seems to be the post script to our conversations, e-mails and blog posts these days, and, as I once again ambled down the pathway, a blog post was bubbling around in my brain.

I kept the camera in my hand for the duration of the trek, intending to return to the area where the Red-Winged Blackbird trilled and the Cardinals, Jays, Woodpeckers and Nuthatch thrilled me, but there were no birds to be found. The Cooper’s Hawk, still circling overhead kept my squirrels tucked in their hidey holes. I knew the weekend would be rainy both days, so I left a pile of peanuts on the picnic table for my furry friends for when they finally emerged.

I now know what type of fish makes the big splashes that I hear as I walk along on my treks in late Spring. Just like clockwork, I’d hear huge belly flops and see water drops spraying up during spawning season, yet I could not see through the bushes to see the fish acrobatics.

And that my friends is your fish tale for the day.