Phenology Report

The worst part of winter is spring. I don’t know about you, but my patience is wearing thin! I want to treat winter like I would an unwanted houseguest; “look it was really cool when you were hanging around for Christmas but it’s time for you to get the fuck out, and maybe get a job too you friggin’ drag on the economy”. (I don’t get a lot of houseguests.)

Phenololgy report:

I was quietly minding my business when the dog told me it was time for me to go for a walk. (Who am I to doubt the wisdom of the dog?) So, we step outside and it’s snowing like gangbusters. I’m like “what the hell is this”? The dog looks at me as if I’m somehow responsible for this atrocity. If it could talk it would be pointing accusingly at me and the snow and yelling “why have you done this”?

Bravely, or stupidly, we headed out through the snow which was coming down in buckets by then. While the dog was pinching a loaf somewhere I’m certain I’ll step this summer, I heard the strangest sound. Could that be a snow goose?

We don’t get a lot of snow geese around here but they’re not particularly uncommon either. As far as I can tell they head North as soon as they possibly can and then promptly get themselves screwed while they sit around waiting for the ice to thaw. They remind me of stranded travelers at an airport when no planes are flying. I used to think these guys had some sort of bad ass migratory powers to tell them precisely when they should head North (or conversely South) but I’ve now formulated a new theory that they just fly north in the spring until their life is miserable and stop there to wallow in self-inflicted pain. Eventually it will warm up and the grass starts getting green and the tulips come up and life will be good, they’ll immediately flee the good life. They’ll wing their way over the Canadian line until they encounter ice again. Then what? They’ll sit there freezing their balls off. Maybe listen to hockey on the radio? Eat poutine? Maybe they like misery? I suppose they stop when they’re surrounded by blackflies and moose are shitting on their nesting grounds?

So, I’m peering through the snow looking at the snow goose which looks completely miserable and the goose is looking back at me. I know what it’s thinking, it’s thinking “put me out of my misery, cook me for dinner”. Poor bastard.

Since I’m the kind of guy that talks to wildlife, I shrug my shoulders as if to say “were all in this together and I think we can all agree that life sucks”.

Hundred yards further down the field we encountered another migratory bird. A sandhill crane! Just like the snow geese, I don’t see a lot of cranes here. Although sometimes they will hang around either nesting or courting or something. Since I rarely see young ones and have never found their nest maybe they’re just fucking in the field. Big feathery avian teenagers that would leave beer cans all over if I let them? Even so, I like cranes. They sound and look like dinosaurs. They just seem bit too big to be part of modern North American ecology. It’s as if I wandered around the woodlot and found a mastodon there.

The crane looks at me as if to say “this was not on the brochure!” I’m shrugging my shoulders as if I have to apologize to fucking wildlife. Then we’re interrupted by another crane. I hadn’t seen it before, what with the goddamn blizzard blocking my view. Clearly, they were a breeding pair and clearly this one was the female because it was seriously bitching out the other crane! Cranes make weird sounds anyway but that second crane it was just passed right off. “We left Florida and wound up in this shit? This is clearly your fault!”

I felt sorry for the first crane. My dog looked like it wanted to chase them and I was a bit concerned because I don’t want to see any dead cranes. Also, they have a beak that could harpoon a walrus and I’m not sure but what they could pincushion a dog? At the same time the dog would surely beat them like a cheerleader’s pompom. Who wins in that game? But the dog took a few steps into the deeper snow and decided the joy of getting wet and sloppy and having snow shoved in your ears has worn thin for the season. It gave up. The cranes, for their part, were like, “bring it furball” and didn’t move an inch. When two angry oversized quasi velociraptors are ready to interrupt their domestic spat to throwdown against a dog that could tackle a Buick, you know it’s snowing way too hard to fly. Either that or we all need a little sunshine to take the edge off.

We turned around and as we headed home I’ll be damned if there wasn’t a second snow goose. And I’m not making this up I swear the second snow goose was bitching out the first one. Poor bastard.

Back at the house the dog tracked mud on everything and I had to clean it up. As far as I can tell no redneck has put a truck through the ice yet and that means all the big migratory birds are pissed off at each other. That’s ecology for you; everything is interrelated.