In the night...the scream of the rabbit is terrible. But the scream of the owl which is not of pain and hopelessness and fear of being plucked out the world, but of the sheer rollicking glory of the death-bringer, is more terrible still.

Saturday, March 19, 2016


When we pulled into Oakwood there was no snow on the ground. I cleaned out the Woodduck box and filled the bird feeders. It took about 15 minutes before the birds knew and they were back as if we had never been gone. Our birdseed is a convenience, but not a necessity, particularly in a winter as mild as the past one.

The ice was out of the lake for the second earliest date since the late 1800s. There are rumors that the woodducks have already arrived, although personally I have not seen them. I am afraid with the early ice-out we may have missed the loons and northern ducks migrating through. 

Then it snowed, not a lot; not enough to stick on the streets and sidewalks - but enough to remind us that we were back home. The Rio Grande Valley was nice, but it could never be home. Oakwood is home.

We are having a "Name the Flamingo" contest. Big prize. 
- Gunnar

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