Snow-covered

February 2010 is now officially the snowiest February on record in my area. With 42 “official” inches in the bucket for the month, snowfall for the winter is already well above average. Some of last week’s snow has melted, but when I stepped off a road and into the snow this weekend, it still reached my knees.

The snowcover and colder than average temperatures are affecting the return of migrating waterfowl, too. The last week of February is usually prime time to see tens of thousands of snow geese, Tundra swans and Canada geese, among others, at Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area in Lancaster County. This year, not yet. Ice still covers all ponds and lakes.

I made a short trip to Pinchot State Park this weekend and found minimal open water, inhabited by exactly 6 mallards and 4 ring-billed gulls standing on the ice. Four common mergansers flew over and circled but decided they weren’t going to try a landing in the circus rink-sized puddle of open water on the lake.

Next weekend should see an improvement in the numbers of waterfowl and the amount of open water, as the temperature will at least touch the 40-degree mark during most days this week I hope so, as I am longing for something a little different to look at or do in the woods around the cabin.

My photos today are of an old cemetery near the lake. The veterans buried here are from the Revolution or the War of 1812. The red headstones are typical of that time period, though the dates are getting ever harder to read. No was buried here after 1850, as I recall, though snow still kept me from going inside the stone walls to check for sure.

Banshees and demons

Last night the wind howled and screamed across the mountain like a demented banshee. The wind woke me up more than once. The dogs were restless, too. Baby Dog saw two raccoons in the bird feeders, and you’d have thought we were being attacked by blood-eyed demons.

I haven’t gotten much new snow from this latest big nor’easter, but with these winds the roads are closing down left and right. Half an hour after a plow goes through, a road is closed again.

I almost didn't make it through the drift up ahead in this shot.  I saw it ahead and nearly took the side road to the right to avoid it, only to think about where the side road went and decided that could prove worse further along.  So I gunned the car and made it through. It was actually two drifts, one along the right side of the road and a second along the left side. I plunged through the middle where it was marginally less drifted and kept going.  That was the worst of my morning commute, thank heaven.  

Frosting

So far it’s a pretty little snow.

The forest looks sprinkled, each tiny twig or fir needle highlighted with sparkling white. Last week’s snows were already fading to dingy white, but this new storm makes it all new again.

The forest is silent with falling snow, for the moment the expected hurricane winds not yet rising and everything is still.

This morning for the first time since the last snow, I saw rabbit tracks. Dog plunged his nose into them and was ready to follow the trail, vastly disappointed when our path diverged from the rabbit’s.

For now it’s a pretty little snow. Perhaps it will stay that way. Perhaps not. I will focus on the “now” and see where that path takes me.

Second verse, much like the first

It’s a good thing that perhaps two feet of the nearly four feet of snow has melted in the past week. Tonight, another foot will fall—or so the forecasters say. I’m not sure I believe them. Every time I listen to a different forecast I hear a different amount. My favorite was 2-12 inches. Now isn’t that a useful prediction? Two inches doesn’t even bother my snow-hating chickens but 12 inches is fairly major.

And it’s the 50 mph winds that are likely to be worse than whatever amount of snow actually does fall. Sounds like another blizzard with whiteout conditions to me. So tonight I will be battening down the hatches again.

I discovered that it’s hard to show just how deep the snow is when I take photos in the forest. Snow around the base of a tree looks pretty much the same whether it’s 6 inches deep or 3 feet. The tree just doesn’t look any different in the photos. Now, if I cut that same tree down, in the spring you would see that what looked like the base of the tree today was really about 3 feet above the base. But since I don’t plan to cut down any of the trees, you really won’t know that. I suppose I could tie a ribbon around the trees, but really, what’s the point? So just take my word for it that the photos don’t look any different.

Tomorrow the snow should be pretty and brightly white again. I guess that’s the bright side. Oh, and my girl scout cookies were just delivered, so I’ll have plenty of sustenance to see me through the next storm.

A day at the spa

The morning is gloomy around the cabin. Overnight I had rain, snow, sleet and freezing rain all at the same time. Fortunately, I didn’t have much of any of that. As it is also foggy, getting a photo this morning was out of the question, so I will change tack and go for something completely different with this blog post.

On Sunday, I let the chickens out, knowing they don’t like snow. I figured the snow would keep them fairly well corralled where they couldn’t wander too far. So when I went back to pen them up after a few hours, I was surprised when I couldn’t find all of them. It wasn’t long before I heard them. They managed to find the only non-snowy area around, which is under the cabin.

There they were in the dirt, having a dust bath. They looked as though they were having a wonderful time, all bunched together in one little dirt patch, rolling on their backs and flapping their wings. I think they thought they were in chicken heaven, or at least the chicken equivalent of a day spa. I couldn’t tell where one chicken started and another ended. They were having such a good time I hated to end it, but I did.

This is my first winter with chickens, and I was worried about how they’d do out in their unheated, drafty, cobbled together chicken pen with a rabbit hutch for a nest box. They seem to be doing just fine, and even laid eggs through the winter, when I was told they would not. They even laid eggs through the blizzard. So they deserved their day at the spa—and an extra helping of blueberries.

Snow and shadows

Snow is still hanging around Roundtop even though the weekend temperatures inched above freezing in the afternoons.  A fair amount of the snow has melted.  I think it's because the snow was of the light and fluffy variety.  That water-laden concrete snow doesn't usually melt so fast.

Sunday was a very pretty day with a perfectly blue sapphire winter sky.  Clear skies are something of a rarity this winter, which is itself  unusual for this area.  Winter is often quite a  pretty season here; many days in a row of sunshine are common.  Not so this winter. 

So when the sun cooperates and the clouds disappear, I have to take advantage of it and get outside with my camera. Normally, noontime is not the best hour of the day to take photos, but in winter, when the sun isn't so high in the sky and the sunlight itself is weaker, I find it a good time.  Even at noon, I see shadows playing across the snow.

And since there's not too much to see in my woods right now except snow (and shadows), it's a good thing the combination makes for some interesting photos. 

These may be the last "good" snow photos I post for a while.  Rain and sleet and snow and freezing rain are all predicted for the next 24-36 hours, which will reduce the snow quite a lot.  I hope that combination doesn't cause flooding, but it sure might.  When I wasn't taking photos this weekend, I was digging out my basement drain so the water will have someplace to go, just in case.

My last photo today shows just how nicely snow covers up things and makes them look different than they would otherwise.  There's a good-sized boulder under this round bump.  I like it when snow covers up things I should have brought in for the winter but didn't.  The nieghbors will never know--at least not until the snow melts. 

Ice-zilla

The two big snowstorms that are still blanketing my area have prompted a lot of nicknames—snowzilla, snowpocalypse, snowmageddon—are the ones I’ve heard most frequently. Today, I bring you ice-zilla, the monster icicle currently hanging from the roof of my cabin. It is fully half the height of the cabin, one full story of ice.

As the temperature today is supposed to inch above freezing this afternoon, this morning might be its last hurrah. That remains to be seen when I get home tonight. As long as I’m not underneath this icy spear when it falls, that’s fine with me. If it survives to grow any longer, I’ll keep you posted on that, too.

Snowy morning view

The three plus feet of snow I have on the ground at the cabin is compressing a bit. I don’t really think it’s melting—the temperature has rarely reached 32, nor has the sun been out. But it’s not quite as deep as was a few days ago. In a way that makes shoveling it more difficult because the same size scoop of snow now weighs more than before.

The birds have found a few bare spots where the snow plows scraped down to the ground. They gather around those tiny patches searching for grit. I have been looking for animal tracks in the snow and haven’t yet found many. I’ve found deer tracks and bird tracks but no sign of mouse, rabbit, fox or anything else in that size range. I suspect most of the smaller animals are burrowed in or hunkered down. The squirrels bound from tree limb to tree limb—I haven’t seen their feet touch the ground, well, the snow, since the storms hit.

In other words, not much is going on around the woods at the moment. Even what’s not covered in snow isn’t out playing in the snow just yet. I wonder how long that will last?

Snow days

I have a feeling this blog is going to seem like a broken record for while. Snow dominates my nearly every thought and action, and I expect that will continue until there’s quite a bit less of it than I have right now. Forget snowshoeing or skiing, shoveling is my only outdoor activity.

The basics of shoveling are done, of course, but I’m still working on making a path around the house, clearing a door to the cellar. Eventually, I will work on clearing a path to the cellar’s drainpipe. Last night I had a bit more snow but not enough to create more problems.

The weather forecast suggests this snow is in little danger of melting for the next week or so, but I’m already trying to look ahead to that and just how this snow will melt. My hope is that it will melt slowly. Very slowly. If it doesn’t, flooding is a sure thing both at the cabin and in the nearby streams. My basement floods in most springs, even those with far less snow than I have at the moment. So I’m trying to open up the drains, gain access to the cellar—which is likely still some days ahead—and do whatever I can do to at least direct the future flow of water and mitigate potential problems.

I am still limited by the sheer amount of snow, but I work on it a bit at a time. Sometimes I make some progress only to have the winds drift it right back again. At the moment, there is no end to it and no end in sight. I just keep going, some days faster and more productive than others.

Snow news

Snow continues to dominate my own personal headlines here on Roundtop Mtn. Not much has melted, and shoveling continues, though at a slower pace. I’m tired of shoveling. Tonight, more snow, if not a large amount. I’m trying to decide if several inches of new snow will mean nothing or if it will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. At this point, I can’t decide.

Today, I am posting some more snow photos. Snow photos are all I have and are all I am likely to have for some time.

Apparently, I was lucky to get off the mountain on Thursday afternoon. My brother lives two townships over. Unlike me, he lives in a good-sized development, so isolation from a population center doesn’t apply to him. However, apparently the township snow plow(s) broke, and his end of the township wasn’t plowed out until late on Friday. Believe me, it’s a first for me to be plowed out before he is.

The snow is still drifting and sometimes comes close to closing the roads again. It’s not as bad as it was on Thursday and Friday but even yesterday drifting sometimes reduced the roads to a single lane. The second photo is my back deck.  The snow is nearly up to the railing on the left, and the stairs have disappeared.

I still haven’t seen any new bird species at my feeders. At this point, I’m going to assume new species will not be found at my feeders this winter. I am seeing some new configurations of the usual species, though. It is rare for me to have mourning doves at my feeders, though when the weather gets bad, I often have a pair of them. That pattern continued until yesterday when 5 showed up—a record. The male northern cardinal has been singing all winter—even the snowstorms haven’t slowed him down. This morning he was answered by one of the Carolina wrens, and they echoed each other back and forth for a bit.

Yesterday, a female house finch put on a pathetic performance. My tube feeder has a higher and lower set of feeding perches and was empty down to the higher set of perches. The chickadees were able to sit on the top perch and dip down into the tube for a snack. The female house finch couldn’t fit herself on that perch and eat too, which frustrated her no end. She’d go to that perch, try to feed, eventually give up and return to the branch above it. After a few minutes she’d try the same thing again, apparently not smart enough to go to the lower perch where she could easily reach the food. I watched this for four or five attempts, then simply couldn’t stand it any longer and went outside to fill that feeder.

It wasn't pretty

I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty and it wasn’t. Another 20 inches of snow fell on Wednesday on top of the 25-27 inches I’d gotten three days before. The wind blew at 30-40 mph, and most of Wednesday afternoon was a total whiteout. I didn’t lose power, amazingly, so that was a good thing.

The governor closed all the roads, including the interstates, even going so far as to plow the on-ramps shut to keep people off the roads.

When the snow finally stopped, well, there was a lot of snow. How much snow is there? Whenever an experienced driver can get his front-end loader stuck in it, you know there’s a lot of snow. That’s what today’s photo is. Good neighbor Larry getting the front-end loader stuck in my driveway.

But it could have been worse. Even the chickens did okay and my little angels continued to lay eggs during the blizzard. I guess you can’t keep a good chicken down. Baby Dog is still having trouble figuring out how to do her business in this much snow. She bounded into the snow on Thursday and immediately sunk over her head. It was hysterical watching her trying to extricate herself. Dog has figured out that if he “swims” in the snow he can get around well enough.

The roads are still drifting shut periodically, which is why the kids are still off school. The roads are in good shape if they aren’t drifting closed. The snow piles are huge. In today’s second photo, the undrifted snow is nearly deeper than my snow shovel. At least, I think that’s undrifted snow. You can’t really tell.

The birds fed like crazy throughout the storm. I had over 30 juncos on the deck at one point. I still haven’t seen any unusual species, but the Carolina wrens, or at least one of them, made it through this storm, too.

I ready to not have any new snow for a while—at least a week without new snow would be nice.

It ain't gonna be pretty

Unlike the pretty Northern cardinal in today’s photos, I won’t be able to say the snow I’m going to get later today will be pretty. On top of my 2+ feet of snow, I will likely get another 18 inches of snow tonight, followed by heavy winds. Yet another nor’easter will hit my area, and I’m really not looking forward this round.

Four feet of snow plus winds usually doesn’t equal electricity around here. So keep your fingers crossed for me on this one.

The cliché of the day is “where are we going to put it?” After 2 feet of snow, great piles of the stuff are all over the place even now, sometimes so high they impede traffic when you can’t see around a corner or an intersection. Already, high banks of snow surround me when I drive, making it feel as though I’m in a canyon.

Basically, no has yet offered a good answer to where this new snow is going to go. I’m not sure I can shovel something four feet high, so the next few days should be interesting, but perhaps not in a good way. In any event, it would be a good bet not to expect any more posts from me for a few days.

Lots of snow and more to come

It snowed this weekend, but probably everyone in the country has heard about that by now. What you might not have heard yet is that the forecast calls for another 6-12 inches of snow tomorrow night. I have no idea where I will put that snow. I do know that after a meeting tonight, no matter what time it is, I will be out on my back deck tossing more of what I already have off to make room for more.

I probably had 25-27 inches of snow. It’s hard to tell exactly how much because it blew around a fair bit. The good news is that it was a lovely, light and fluffy snow. I’ve had snows of fewer inches that actually caused more problems because it was of the “concrete” snow type. Those snows are so heavy that they can’t be plowed and have to be cut into pieces and hauled away in dump trucks. Those are the kind that really bring down power lines. This wasn’t one of those.

Good neighbor Larry plowed me out with a front end loader and Roundtop’s snowcat on Saturday. Even the snowcat couldn’t make it up to neighbor Peter’s house, and he still isn’t plowed out. What’s a snowcat? Remember the movie “The Shining” and that big thing that picked up the family? That’s a snowcat.

Yesterday was a beautiful but cold and breezy day. I took a lot of photos outside and after I drove off the mountain. Because the snow was so fluffy and because the road crews did a good job and because the roads were treated before the snow, driving on Sunday wasn’t too bad overall. Some roads weren’t plowed at all when I was out, and I’m told the local cities aren’t in great shape, but where I was, it was fine.

Oh, the Carolina wren finally showed up, so it made it through this storm. I didn’t get any unusual birds at my feeders, though I did have two species that I don’t usually get at the feeders. I had a starling for the first time ever in 20 years and a flicker, which is unusual because they usually leave the mountain in winter, doing a vertical migration down off the hill.

So this snow is over, if not yet done with. I’m not looking forward to Tuesday’s snow, though. Stay tuned for that one.

Blizzard!

No photos until I get back to hi-speed internet.  I am currently almost at 2 feet of snow.  It is hard to measure accurately because the snow is blowing and drifting. Even the ski resort is closed because we're in a state of emergency and no one is allowed on the roads. 

I shoveled last night right before bed--had everything clear with about 6-8 inches of snow.  This morning, I had to force open my front door, half inch at a time until I could squeeze out.  The snow is past Dog's belly and is halfway to the top of his back.  Baby Dog looked like she was swimming in the snow.

For now we are all safe and sound.  Good neighbor Larry cleaned out my driveway and the lane with a front-end loader but at this rate, he may need to do it again once the snow finally stops.

No sign of the Carolina wrens this morning. I wouldn't be surprised if they don't make it.  All the other birds are feeding like crazy.

I'll check in later if I get the chance. 

No photo Friday

I have no photo today, though I feel that’s kind of appropriate. I am in the calm before the unknown of the storm ahead. It’s a cliché but one that is true—at least as it pertains to weather. I make no claims for the accuracy of the phrase’s non-weather uses.

This evening’s weather, the storm ahead, like anything that will happen in the future, is an unknown. That’s always a truth, of course, but it seems a bit more pointed on some days than others. At the moment, it looks as though a right blizzard will keep me at my cabin throughout the weekend. The forecast calls for a low end of about a foot of snow and a high end of about two feet of snow. A foot of snow is an amount that can be dealt with. Two feet will be a nuisance. When the snow ends, the wind begins and that may well be the worse part of this storm.

In any event, I am currently in the hours of calm before this storm. I have prepared by assuring I have enough supplies for me and the dogs, cats, wild birds and chickens. The snow shovels stand like sentinels on the front deck. We should all be cozy, if housebound, for a bit.

I am starting to reach an age where I no longer have a joy of shoveling. Many’s the time I’ve shoveled my entire driveway every two hours throughout the night to “keep ahead” of the snow. It’s much easier to shovel 2-3 inches at a time than 15, and I used to take pleasure in how easily and quickly I could clear the snow with what felt like minimal effort. Lately, I’ve found that regimen nearly as tiring as waiting until the storm is over to do anything. Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep, perhaps it’s the extended hours of exertion, I can’t say.

For this storm, especially if the snowfall reaches toward that 2-foot mark, I’ll be happy just to keep a path open to the chickens. After that, we’ll see.

Next blog post: Expect snow pictures!

Snow art

When I woke up this morning, the snow that fell on the mountain last night was still clinging to every branch and twig in the forest. I love it when it looks like this. It never lasts long, especially when the snow is as light and fluffy as this one was. But for a few minutes or an hour, every tiny surface is outlined in white.

Often, it doesn’t even take a breeze, not even the barest hint of a breeze, to knock the snow off the surfaces. This morning as I was walking Dog, the air was as still as could be, yet clumps of snow still fell onto us. Even as light as the snow is, gravity soon wins. A snowflake will shift position, and all the other snowflakes on that twig will lose their balance and fall in a clump to the ground.

I even found a snowsnake—at least that’s what I call them. When the snow clings to a branch and then slowly starts to fall, for a little while it can twist into interesting shapes. Sometimes the snowsnake will freeze in place and last for a little while, but that’s not very common. In a way, this one reminds me of one of those balloon horses, more than a snake.

So the mountain is snow-covered again and will likely remain so for a while. This snow will compress before long—gravity again, even when the temperature stays below freezing and the sun doesn’t come out. The main reason the mountain is liable to stay snow-covered, though, is because of another storm heading this way for Friday. That one looks like it might go a foot or so. I’ve got the snowshoes ready for that one.

Snow is coming

 Since last week’s rain, my winter forest has been largely devoid of snow. I can still find a small patch or two of it here and there, but the landscape looks more like November than February at this hour. I say “this hour” because it looks as though that will soon change.

The sky looks heavy with snow and grows ever darker. The coming storm will not be a large one, but even a few inches of snow will make the woods look like winter again. Right now it doesn’t look as though I will get a snow day tomorrow, but I might get a snow delay for a few hours. The weekend looks to bring even more snow, so the bare woods in today’s photo will soon be a thing that is so last week.

The feeder birds have already emptied my feeders once today. They can feel the snow coming, and want to stock up before it does. I can smell the snow already and know it can’t be long from falling now.  Winter is about to reappear on the mountain. 

The ice sang to me

The past weekend started out very cold. On Saturday the temperature never got above 15 degrees, with snow squalls and a bone-chilling rawness to the air. So on Sunday when the sun came out, and temperature went above 20 degrees, it was time to come out of my burrow and go for a walk.

I decided to visit Pinchot State Park, just a few miles from Roundtop. It’s a small change in scenery, as the forest looks much the same as Roundtop’s forest. Pinchot has a nice, big lake, though, and I wanted at least a little change from my own woods.

The warmer air felt wonderful, the sun even better. By noontime, the air temperature was nearing the mid-20’s, and the ice began to sing. It sounded like whales singing, with whistles and long groans, a few pops, the occasional snapping of a whip. But mostly it was low, deep groans, as the sun did its work.

It was enough to worry the small group of ice fishermen spread out on the lake. Some headed for the shore, most moved closer to the shore, a few dug new holes, rechecking the depth of the ice to assure it was still okay. They all seemed more nervous once the singing started.

I thought it was a beautiful sound, music to accompany my walk. The sound followed me even when I wasn’t next to the lake. I could always hear it in the distance. Up close, the sound reverberated all around me, an unexpected symphony.

I stayed longer than I’d planned. The concert went on an on, and I didn’t want to leave.

January clouds

The sunrises and sunsets here at Roundtop this winter have presented more than a few spectacular displays. It takes clouds to make a truly beautiful sunrise or sunset. Clouds create unusual and breathtaking colors as the angle of the sun’s path changes. For a few moments or minutes.

After that it all turns to just clouds. And that’s how January has been here—cloudy.

In many, perhaps most, Januarys here the sky varies between storms and sun. It snows, then it clears and eventually it snows again. This year, we’ve had some of the snow and a fair number of storms, but little of the clear blue skies that usually follow. The cloudiness has remained, a somewhat unwelcome visitor except for those first and last moments of the day.

January daylight is already in short supply. The sun’s rays are weak and the hours of day short. To have what sunlight is possible limited even more by clouds is starting to feel a bit confining to me. I’m not sure it’s seasonal affective disorder so much as photographic withdrawal. In January, a cloudy sky makes the weak light even dimmer, and the hours or minutes when I can take photos even fewer.

Nothing can be done about it, of course. It’s simply a matter of waiting for that clear sky to reappear, for the days to grow longer, for the sun’s angle to grow stronger again. The sunsets and sunrises are glorious and so help a bit to mitigate my impatience, for that’s what this really is. Neither the world nor the sky is as I would will it, and sometimes I just need to remind myself of that.

A little Appalachian glow

A little winter Appalachian glow greeted me at sunrise this morning. After yesterday’s wind, downed trees, power outages and now flooding, a clearing sky is a welcome sight.

The storm Sunday and yesterday got rid of the snow that had blanketed the forest. Now, the mountain looks like late November again. I quickly checked the long-range forecast to see when snow might return—perhaps this weekend, but I’m not going to hold my breath.

This morning a rabbit hopped in front of Dog and me, the first I’ve seen in a while. Likely the open ground makes foraging easier for it. I know my chickens like it. Snow is not really their forte. The Canada geese are also back on the pond, as the rain opened a corner in the ice so they can swim around again.

I am ever amazed at how quickly and readily the forest animals take advantage of improving weather, even after a violent storm. They are not shrinking violets, first sticking up a timid nose or a beak to test the air. The idea of PTSD must be foreign to them. The weather improves, and they are out and kicking up their heels. They seem to enjoy the improvement but certainly aren’t hesitant to be out and about again. They don’t look at the sky and wonder when the next big storm will come. They don’t wait a day to make sure the weather holds before venturing out again. It’s better. They are out. End of story.

My second photo today is how Appalachian glow looks from the inside.  The trees overhead just lit up during sunrise this morning.

Calling Steven Spielberg

Remember those scenes in Close Encounters of the Third Kind where the clouds winked different colors whenever one of the big UFO’s was near? That’s what I thought of this morning as I was out walking the dogs. Only I didn’t have UFO’s. I had lightning. And wind. Lots and lots of wind.

The dogs didn’t get much of a walk.

Actually, the walk started out well, but I hadn’t gone far before the wind started to pick up and branches started falling, and the power went out all over Roundtop. That’s when I saw the lightning and thought of Close Encounters.

So back up to the cabin we went. I gave up resetting the clocks after the third time. Eventually, the weather will settle out, and then I can reset the clocks. So far I am fortunate in that nothing major has fallen on the cabin.

Still, I stopped the car three times this morning to remove branches from the road that were larger than I wanted to drive over. One time the branch was really half a tree and was too large to move. I just barely had enough room to squeeze by but I did.

On Saturday, the weather was nice enough to go for a hike in the woods and do a little birding. My tally for January so far is 37 species, not too bad. I have hopes that one year I will break 40 species in January. It’s never happened yet but is theoretically possible. For that to happen I will likely need a decent year for winter finches and some decent birding weather. Lightning and wind storms won’t cut it. Maybe next year.

Changes in a new year

Even though 2010 is just 20 days old, it’s already proving to be different from its predecessor in at least one thing. I am regularly seeing black vultures plying the skies around Roundtop.

Black vultures, as you may know, are really a southern vulture. Until perhaps 20 years ago, I’d never seen one in Pennsylvania. For the past 10 years, they’ve been rather common around here during migration and in summer. But not in winter. I could hope to find one on the first warm, sunny day starting around mid-February, but anything before then was out of the question.

This year, I have already seen 10, spaced one or two at a time on different days, often with 3-4 turkey vultures. Several are likely the same birds. This morning I saw one on the drive to work, in roughly the same area where I saw one late last week. On Monday, I saw two near Pinchot State Park with what was probably the same group of Turkey Vultures that I saw the week before.

Still, in previous years finding black vultures on January 1, no matter if that day was a warm and sunny one, simply wasn’t going to happen. This year, finding the birds in January wasn’t a fluke. I’m seeing them regularly.

And perhaps even this wouldn’t feel so unusual to me if January 2010 had turned out to be unseasonably warm. Oh, the past few days have been unseasonably warm, but the vultures were also seen on days when it was anything but warm. Even more interesting, the three to four weeks leading up to now were unseasonably cold, and I still saw black vultures.

It makes me wonder what will happen in the next 20 years. Will black vultures become the dominant local vulture? Will turkey vultures become the minority? All this drama, and the year is just 20 days old.

Ice

This past weekend brought a wide variety of weather to Roundtop—sunny, warm, heavy rain and wind. All things considered, I preferred the non-rainy, non-windy days. After the recent spate of cold and wind, a day in the 40’s felt like almost summery. And in case you think I’m exaggerating, yesterday I saw four young girls in t-shirts walking along the streets of the nearby town. So it wasn’t just me, though I do think you actually need to be 9 or 10 to go out in t-shirts in 40-degree weather, though I’m not yet too old to at least think about it.

With the rain went the snow and much of the ice. On the snowmaking ponds where the ice never gets too thick, I saw open water on Sunday. On Pinchot Lake, I saw people ice-fishing yesterday, but watching them made me a little nervous after all that rain. I didn’t hear about anyone falling in, though, so I guess it was alright.

By Monday, as the temperature was already dropping back down, the ice began to form again. That’s what today’s pictures are—the thin ice forming over top of the snowmaking pond. January thaws never last forever, though I wouldn’t have argued about another day or two.

An embarrassment of riches

Yesterday, the sky produced an embarrassing amount of glorious colors.  The sunrise, with photos posted yesterday morning, was exceptional.  The sunset went beyond exceptional and turned into the kind of thing seen only a few times in a lifetime.

I took a lot of photos.

I was fortunate to be arriving home just as the sunset neared its peak. So I was able to use one of Roundtop's snowmaking ponds as the foreground for the photos.  The sunset reflected off the ice on the pond, heightening and extending the colors in the sky. I was lucky in this, too.  Because the ponds are the source of water for snowmaking, they are rarely iced in.  The recent cold spell helped keep some ice on the pond even so.

And one nice thing about the sunset is that it lasted quite a bitj longer than the sunrise, which was also lovely.  That didn't last very long, though. The sunset went on for minutes, growing ever deeper in color as the minutes went on.

Eventually, as we all know, all good things come to an end, but even the last gasp of the sun's setting was glorious.

I wish you could have been here. 

I hope your own sky embarrasses you with riches.

Morning colors

The sky is overcast this morning, the wind a tad raw, if not quite as raw as the day before. This morning the cloud cover made the pre-dawn minutes darker than is so on a clear morning. I went outside to take fresh water to the chickens, glancing quickly at the gray sky and wishing for the promised warmer temperatures to arrive sooner rather than later. And barring that, I would settle for the wind to calm so the temperature I had would at least feel warmer.

The chickens’ water freezes solid overnight, so I switch their water in the morning and evenings. They were just waking up, and I don’t like for them to go without water even for a few minutes after a long night. This morning they ambled over to the fresh water, in no hurry, so I knew I wasn’t late bringing out the new water.

And then I turned to go back into the cabin and saw the morning sky suddenly turn a bright pink, like a young girl’s blush. The camera was close at hand, so I quickly snapped a few shots. None do the sky’s glory any justice, but perhaps you can get a sense of it even so. Perhaps the photos will remind you of some similar morning where you live, an old memory made fresh again by a triggering similarity seen today.

If I’d had a choice, I would have chosen a more interesting foreground for the sunrise than a veil of winter’s trees, but sunrise waits for no camera and for no mad dash down to the pond or anyplace else. This sunrise lasted just a minute, perhaps two, before it paled and disappeared behind the gray clouds. I carry the memory of it with me this morning, a rosy glow against the drab.

Open water

Snow dusted the mountain last evening, just enough to make walking slippery this morning. The new snow covers both ice and bare patches, so I can no longer tell one from the other. I step out smartly, only to slip and nearly fall when my boot finds the ice.

As cold as it has been for the past 10 days, I am surprised to still find some open water. The faster moving streams are still open and gurgling. That running water attracts the forest residents, too. For them, finding water in winter is nearly as much a chore as hunting or browsing. Tracks crisscross the banks of open streams, to the point where it’s difficult to make out who was visiting. Newer tracks cover and obliterate other tracks, while at the iced-in streams the snow is unmarked.

A slight moderation of the temperature around Roundtop will bring temperatures near to 40 in another day or so. I may take to a t-shirt again, if that happens. It will feel like summer. Perhaps a few days of that will be enough to break the ice on some of the other little streams around the mountain. I’m sure the deer and fox and rabbits would appreciate that.

Pretty winter day

The weather was lovely this past weekend—cold, but sunny. Best of all, the wind didn’t come out to wreak havoc play, so I am happy with winter again. This was the kind of winter weather that’s fun to play in and be out in. I took advantage of it to wander around in the woods, visiting the gamelands that border Roundtop Mtn.

To most people, perhaps especially in a snow-covered winter, the gameland forests probably don’t look much different than the woods around Roundtop. But to me, who knows Roundtop so well, these woods are different enough to be interesting.

Most basic, at Roundtop I am usually on a hill or in a deep, dark and narrow valley between hills. Down in the gamelands, I have wide open vistas to enjoy. On a bright winter afternoon with a sapphire sky overhead, that’s a nice difference.

The gamelands have more “edge” habitat than Roundtop, so I get to see more sparrows—something usually in short supply up on Roundtop. Occasionally, the woods open up and give way to old fields where I can see bluebirds and a few robins flocking together, the odd mockingbird or a Cooper’s Hawk gliding overhead. Dog came along with me for my ramble, and a good time was had by all.

The winter season is still early, and I hope we can have many more days like this one to enjoy. I hope the bitter, windy days and overcast skies are gone for a good, long while.

The day's snowy start

A little snow fell overnight at the cabin. A little snow makes everything pretty. An ugly pile of leaves suddenly becomes a lovely, snowy bump, an interesting feature in an otherwise flat area. The same holds true with lawn furniture and old buckets. Sometimes spring can be a shock when I discover what’s actually under those pretty bumps.

The latest spate of cold weather will begin tonight and last through the weekend. At the moment the winds are still calm enough for snow to stick on twigs and branches or the bark of an old hickory tree. The upcoming cold wouldn’t, actually, be bad at all if it was unaccompanied by wind. The forecast suggests my hope for that is a pipedream.

So this morning the dogs were silly in the snow, and the chickens scratched happily to discover they could reach bare ground. The wild birds, I think, know something is coming. They were already rushing my feeders before daylight was well-established. And me? I’ve got my snow pants ready for the weekend, and an extra box of tea bags awaits to warm me up from the chill ahead.

Snow and Ice

The last of the “warm” weather will end today. At the moment I’m defining warm as maybe reaching 35 degrees. More snow is on its way followed by what is becoming the usual weekend cold and wind. I took advantage of the calm to make sure the dogs got a good walk this morning and let the chickens outside the pen for a few minutes.

None of my brood may get much in the way of walks or outside time over the next few days. At the moment, wind is running in a tie with ice for being my least favorite outside phenomena. Ice is more of a fooler, though. A path that is snowy one day quickly turns icy after a few hours of sun or footsteps that pack down the snow. One step is safe and easy, the next a slippery accident waiting to happen.

When it’s icy everywhere, I wear Yak-Trax over my boots, but they can be a pain to put on and wear over the long haul. So I end up not wearing them unless I have to. The problem is, I can’t always tell when it’s okay to not wear them. This morning even Dog miscalculated a step while he was fooling around and slipped sideways. He looked embarrassed, I thought, and with good reason as he at least has four legs to my two.

I haven’t seen one of the chickens slip and fall, yet. They don’t much care for the snow, but willingly walk along an icy path, looking for a tiny patch of bare ground to peck at. When one finds a patch, she is soon happily joined by all of them. It doesn’t take much to make a chicken happy.

Hard times ahead?

The mornings are still too dark, really, for me to be taking photos for Roundtop Ruminations before I leave for work. But I can’t help myself. The day is brightening, and I don’t really like taking a week’s worth of photos over the weekend. So today’s photo is a bit washed out and certainly gray, but it also marks a small milestone—the first photo taken in the morning again as the days lengthen.

The snow cover helps. Without that, I likely wouldn’t be able to take morning photos for perhaps another few weeks. Today, I am enjoying the last day of “warmth” before the temperature nose dives again. Today, even at my cabin, the temperature will likely reach and perhaps just inch above the freezing mark for the first time since last weekend. And better yet, the wind this morning was little more than a breeze, so I and the dogs actually got a half-decent walk. We all needed that.

Although the snow isn’t deep at the moment, it is already proving to be harsh on the deer around the cabin. Usually they don’t resort to eating my juniper bush until late February or early March. They are already nibbling on it, a sure sign that natural food is scarce as juniper bushes aren’t known as a deer’s favorite meal.

About half a mile or so beyond the cabin is a small field where I counted 15 deer the other night, far more than I’ve seen at any one time there. They poked in the snow with their hooves, looking for the grass underneath to browse. It’s the kind of work that appears to me to be more calorie intensive than it would be worth, but they were hungry enough to do it anyway. Usually, this is the kind of activity I see later in the winter, so if this year doesn’t produce a thaw or three, I predict hard times ahead for the forest’s animals.

I know I wouldn’t be wanting to try and find food enough to keep me alive through the winter in the woods right now.

Light and dark

Now that the holidays are over and my daily routine is back to "normal," I am outside during daylight hardly at all again. The woods around me are snow-covered, which means I’m not seeing winter fungus either. So, not much is going on that I can see during the week.

The days are already lengthening a bit. A few birds are now up and arriving at my feeders during the half-light of dawn before I leave the cabin. Cardinals are the earliest of my arrivals. Perhaps half of the juncos that regularly appear show up early as well. I’m noticing that the Carolina chickadees arrive perhaps 10-15 minutes earlier than the black-capped chickadees. Black-cappeds are still the most numerous, about twice as common as the Carolinas, but the Carolinas are first to the feeders. I’d like to know if others who see both species observe the same thing. Another observation is that the woodpeckers don’t arrive at all before I leave the cabin. I guess they like to sleep in longer than the little birds.

I still have no sightings of winter finches to report. My best sighting of the new year so far was of a belted kingfisher down at the old snowmaking pond. That’s the first record I’ve had during January. One bird, perhaps the same one, was a regular into December, and I was surprised at that. My best non-Roundtop sightings were two flocks of gadwall at one of the area’s larger spring-fed ponds and three black vultures at the local state park.

My photo today is of the sunrise this morning as I left the cabin. Snow flurries danced around the forest this morning. You can see that the morning clouds are snow clouds, but I don’t expect any serious snow today. The mornings aren’t really light enough yet to take photos in the woods before I leave the cabin, but it’s getting close. Maybe next week.

Don't call it a resolution

I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions, so I’m not going to call this idea of mine a resolution. Even though I live in the woods, I don’t always have lots of time to get into the woods, especially woods other than the one around my cabin. So this new year, I want to spend more time birding and otherwise outdoors than I’ve been able to recently. Of course, just saying I want to do that isn’t the same as figuring out how to do that, and I’m happy to report that I’ve even come up with a plan.

Part of the problem is that when I want to visit other areas, finding time to get there is difficult. It’s one thing to want to go birding in one of my area’s premier locations. It’s another to find the time to drive 45 minutes, spend a few hours birding and then drive 45 minutes home again. Finding a minimum of half a day to go elsewhere is a big issue with me.

So, I’ve decided to use my limited free time to go birding or walking whenever I do my normal activities. For example, when I go to the grocery store, I will stop at a local park that’s on the way. I may not stay long, but I can sure add in 15-20 minutes of birding or wandering around before I go to the store. When I visit family, I’ll stop at the spring-fed pond a mile or so further up the road to look for waterfowl. I still hope I’ll be able to find time, occasionally, to go to one of the really great refuges or forests in my region, but I’m not going to let that be an excuse to miss out on some of the smaller sites that are just past my own doorstep.

My photo today was taken off my back deck on January 2. The sunset was an especially pretty one, all mauve before yet another day of 30+ mph winds. If this wind keeps up, I will soon demote winter from my favorite season!