Waiting, not so Patiently

It is the season of anticipation.....Advent now....Christmas just ten days away. But that isn't what had us waiting so impatiently. No, it was That Snowstorm that They kept talking about for three days. The storm warnings came out a day sooner than usual. The weather report was filled with talk of Possibilities. The reason for the early report, we were told, was that this was potentially a very dangerous storm. The catch, however, was that They weren't real sure exactly what track it would take. We just had to wait and see.

I swear, hearing that kind of chatter, when you really Want the snow to fall, can be killer. The first part of the snow was to fall last evening, with perhaps three to five inches as a result. It took a long time for the snow to arrive, and when it did, it was light. It barely covered the tracks outside. It was easy to see, as the remnants of the recent full moon were illuminating the snow through the thin cloud cover. We woke up several times in the night, anticipating, hoping, that the real snow had arrived. Greg finally got up at five o'clock, perhaps to watch and wait some more, without being bothered by feigning sleep.

When I got up, it still wasn't snowing. We diligently checked the internet weather reports and the radar maps, and indeed, a large blue mass "seemed" to be headed our way. It sure was moving slowly though. By eleven a.m., we had turned into miserable skeptics. We began to recount the many times we'd been promised snow, only to be on the fringes of the storm. It's hard to be satisfied with three inches, when twenty-some miles directly south, as the crow flies, two feet has fallen. We were sure that this snow event was headed towards that same sad ending.

Happily--Most happily, I might add--we were wrong. It finally kicked up around one this afternoon, and it has been snowing steadily since. It's starting to pile up, that lovely fluffy, dry and powdery type of snow. It's dark now as I write, but for several hours this afternoon, we couldn't see Canada. That's our usual way to gauge how hard it is snowing: whether or not we can see across the lake to the shore three-quarters of a mile away. Robert just came in from a trek over to Sharlene's, and he said that it is still snowing hard. Greg is out plowing, to try to keep up with his obligations. He loves this kind of work.

We're happy! Tomorrow we'll be out there with shovels, using that snow to bank the cabins to keep them warmer. We'll be clearing paths, and cleaning up. It's going to be great. I'll bring my camera along so that I can post some pictures. Just in time for Christmas!

8:30 P.M. ETA: I forgot to mention earlier that our phones have been out all day, as they were
at the end of last week, as well. (Sigh...) The phone challenges that we had last winter seem to have returned. If you need to reach us, please drop us an email. info@hestons.com Hopefully the phone company will be able to sort out this mess soon.

And it is still snowing!

And Now, Back to Our Randomly Scheduled Blogging

The summer blogging hiatus is over. All those stories that have been hibernating in my head must now wake up and get ready to come forth on to the pages here. It's been quite a time--not just the summer, but this whole year, it seems. It seemed appropriate to begin with a fresh new look, and what better way than to have a happy little white-throated sparrow to announce that for me on the top of the page?

Green is not the predominant color any longer, however. If you follow the blogs of the Gunflint Trail, you know that we have been awash in loads of color for the last several weeks. The birch and aspen that surround the lodge are luminous these past few days. Even when the clouds and rain are filling the sky, it is as bright in here as though sunshine filled the windows. A wonderful onslaught of color and light, short-lived as it is.

My personal barometer for judging the fall color progress was lost last year in the Ham Lake fire. I always looked to the Canadian shore for the markers that signaled how the season was doing. We still see color over there---green vegetation all summer long--but it tends to turn to brown in the latter part of August. To get a better idea of how things are changing overall, I need to get out into a boat, or take a drive along the trail. Fortunately, I've had a chance to do both in the last week. My camera was not with me either time, but I can say that there are still many leaves on the trees, so it ain't over yet. And I was happily surprised to see a good bit of color at the east end of the lake, in an area I thought had been more heavily affected by the fire. This has been a year of discovery, seeing in several places trees that survived the fire but didn't leaf out last year.

Wildlife sightings have started to pick up. I actually saw my first wolf since my photo opportunity of last May. It was crossing the Trail near the Iron Lake campground. As is so often the case, by the time I reached the spot in the road where he had been, he was long gone, having disappeared into the thick brush of the roadside. Some guests saw a fine bull moose on our side road one evening as they drove along. The moose wanted to stay in the road, so they just followed behind slowly, at a respectable distance. They noticed that the moose was startled every time he passed a driveway, as their headlights bounced off of the blue emergency numbers. The moose would shake his head and look back at them, likely wondering who was following him.

The birds are quieter, but definitely active. I had finally given up on trying to feed them last spring and early summer. But now I notice that the chickadees and nuthatches are hanging around the side porch more, and it makes me think that they are looking for the feeder that usually hangs there. I'll take a chance and put it back out, and hope that the bears are still far deep in the woods, unable to smell it. But I'll keep the supply of seeds in the lodge for a little while longer.

The resort is quieter, but the list of things to do remains long. We're tackling the priorities, and throwing in some extra projects just to keep things lively. I'll get out there with my camera and start to catch up here, just in case you are interested.

Until then, enjoy the days--they smell so sweet at this time of the year.

Feeding the Birds, and Occasionally the Bears, too

This year, I have been attempting to feed the birds through the summer. Usually I only leave feeders out in the winter, and as I've written here, I often have numerous chickadees, nut hatches, and some finches. It is quite enjoyable to see all of these little creatures crowding in for sunflower seeds. So far this spring, I've had lots of purple finches, some vibrant gold finches, a few nuthatches and chickadees, chipping sparrows and even an indigo bunting. And of course, the hummingbirds are here. They've been back for about a month now.

A few weeks ago, I noticed that my stash of sunflower seeds had been disrupted: The large can in which I keep them had been tipped over. The lid was off, but most of the seeds were still there. This was the same morning that the garbage shed had been invaded, so evidently the bear had decided to look for fresher food than the bags of leftovers in the cans. But something must have scared it off before finishing the seeds. I put the lid on the can, and resolved to remember to bring it, and the feeder, in before I went to bed that night.

Of course, I forgot. I'm fifty now, and they tell me it will only get worse. At two a.m. I remembered, but only after hearing the ruckus on the porch, one story down from my bed. I got up, muttering something about "....that darned bear...", and Greg joined me in my pursuit. We turned on the outside lights, and saw a small bear across the driveway, standing up to reach the feeder on a pole. And there on the porch, half-buried in the tin can of sunflower seeds, was the mama. To my surprise, there was a second little one sitting next to her, loudly crying. We watched for a few moments, long enough to see her get upset with the crybaby. She pulled her head out of the can and let out a very fierce reproach that startled even me, on the other side of the window. At this point, we knew that it was time to put an end to the antics, so Greg moved toward the door, and then rapped on the window. I snapped open and shut another window, and all of that noise was enough to scare the mama and baby on the porch. The mom took off running down the steps, and baby two quickly climbed down the post. They dashed across the driveway, joined baby one, and headed off into the woods. Greg and I brought the can inside, but left the feeder, since it was now in three pieces on the ground, empty of seed.

A half hour later, they were back. Greg said something about "that mama needing some negative reinforcement." She was back up on the porch, this time further in to the front, screened area. We have two other cans out there, but one contains charcoal, the other has grass seed in it. Again we rapped on the windows and she started to run off the porch. Greg threw a chunk of firewood at her, and she ran across the driveway. Meanwhile, the baby near her had climbed into the pine tree just off the corner of the porch. I was ready with the camera, and Greg got two good pictures of the little one before it scampered away with the rest of the family.

(Note: Trouble uploading pictures--I'll try again later.)

Fortunately, that negative reinforcement did the job. They didn't return that night. I've heard that it takes three weeks to change a habit. Why then, does it only take two nights for a bear to pick up the habit of looking on our porch for sunflower seeds? Paul says he sometimes hears them return in the late evening, make a run up the porch to check things out, then head off into the night.

Bear Encounters

In particular, I have read that the bears are challenged in finding enough food to fill their bellies after the long winter. Strawberry blossoms are just starting to peek out, so it will be a while before that fruit is available. The blackflies are still very much with us, and that has me thinking that they haven't finished their job of pollinating the blueberries, so we will wait longer yet for those tasty treats. The foliage on the thimbleberry bushes is still quite small. It all adds up to very little sustenance for the bears. And that means that they are looking elsewhere.

If we have bears in camp, their first stop is the garbage shed. I wrote three years ago how Addie and I were dealing with a bear when Greg and the boys were on a trip to Alaska. That time, I put a hasp with a turning clasp on the shed door, and the bear took one look at it and tossed it on the ground. Never mind that it took me about a half hour to properly install it, with my limited powertool skills. Since then, we haven't had that many intruders, so a new system for locking up the garbage shed has never been installed. When Greg had built the new door some years back, he planned to finish it with quarter iron all around the edge. That way a bear would have a difficult time getting a good purchase on it, as they can with wood. With no immediate need to do this, it fell lower on the priority list.

Until a few weeks ago, that is. I noticed the door open wide on the shed one day, and there on the ground at the base of the porch was all the evidence of a bear binge. We've been through this drill before....we know to follow the trail, with rake and shovel, well into the woods, to pick up the garbage strewn about. This time we were lucky that the shed wasn't very full, so it was only a bag or two that needed to be cleaned up. Greg took care of it, and when he came back inside, he complained that he could still smell bear. I couldn't, so I have no idea what bear smells like.

That day, he cleared his schedule and worked on the door. He put the iron in place, and then worked on a new latch. The one that he came up with, to me, is a real stroke of genius. If a bear can figure this one out, I'll be a monkey's uncle...or aunt, as the case may be.

So far, so good. The garbage has stayed in the shed, and the ground has been clear. We're one step ahead of the bear.