It's Now A Pleasure

Like many folk in the Northern Hemisphere, September is my favourite month.

Yard work that was heat and mosquito plagued during the summer is now a comfortable pleasure. Weed trees, over-grown shrubs and vines can be safely trimmed without fear of disturbing nesting birds. As a bonus, the exercise and fresh country air provide a good night's sleep. October should be almost as wonderful for outside projects! November usually has me scrambling to winterize.

Ellie Mae loves the jungle-like aspect of our grounds.

Hogging too much light from the veg patch, some of these trees will be culled.

Not yet migrated, this catbird was calling for most of the day.

Cedar Waxwings are currently enjoying the yard's mountain ash berries.

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My honey bee hives produced a nice crop of honey again this year. Since I take my share in July, the honey is light coloured and delicately flavoured. I especially love it on pumpernickle toast.

A honey bee gathering pollen from a fading anemone flower.

The hummingbirds have migrated but their feeder still attracts clients.

Harvest of 2019, a light coloured July honey. It was a very good year.

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In the comments section of the previous post, Verna G inquired about the handicapped mother raccoon and her children. Well Verna, I have not seen them for weeks now. I suppose they have mostly gone their separate ways to hunt for food. Nearby there are vast acreages of field corn and miles of ditches to forage in. Perhaps the smallest kit will stick close to her this winter. Judging by how well the mom could scramble up tree trunks and posts, she should be okay. I'll always wonder what could have caused those injuries.

Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em

-- mosquitoes, that is. These days the little buggers here are unbearable without a good repellent. But my choice of mosquito discouragement does not come from a pharmacy. It resides among my beekeeping equipment. The smoker works just dandy for chasing away biting insects. Back in the good old days, when we harvested firewood from our woodlot, dad always started a small fire to 'smudge away the mosquitoes'. Worked beautifully! When the chainsaw was started, it seemed to produce just enough smoke to keep the operator protected as well. I like to pass my hat and gloves through the smoke. The fuel I burn is wood shavings (the same bedding preferred by pampered ponies) and I must say it is not unpleasant. Fondly reminds me of campfires and fishing trips.

My trusty old smoker reliably deters mosquito attacks.

The 'off switch' is simply a few blades of grass stuffed into the spout.

For shorter term weeding/watering chores, the veil is the thing.

My jam feeder continues to be a hit with the sweet-toothed set. If I don't refill it quickly enough, a female Baltimore Oriole peers into my kitchen window as if to say, "Hey, where is my waitress?"

The alarm calls of this Gray Catbird sound much like a distressed young kitten.

Honey bees hover as a Baltimore Oriole takes a hearty helping of jam.

The abdomen of this honey bee is looking stretched pretty full.

Barn swallows were declined in recent years but I'm happy to see that last year and this year they are again constructing their mud nests. There is a pair nesting in the barn and a pair starting a nest on a rafter of my garage. They add mud and then let it dry for a bit before adding another layer. When they take little breaks from nesting and hunting mosquitoes (yay-y-y for Barn Swallows) they like to perch on my clothesline and burble sweet conversations with each other. In flight, they are acrobatic marvels! I absolutely love them!

A Barn Swallow's nest under construction in my garage.

Perched on my clothesline, a Barn Swallow burbles a message to it's mate.

Please, pretty please Ellie May, do not harm my bird friends!

House Wren Tenant

Last winter a neighbour kindly gave me an unexpected present. It was a cute little rustic styled bird house. In the past few days a pair of House Wrens have decided it will suit them just fine.

A brief pose before rushing off for more twigs.

A little manipulation and in goes another twig.

A brief pause before charging off for more material.

The grounds around my countryside home are rich in bird species. One of my favourites is the Gray Catbird. It's alarm call, usually heard when I'm near it's nest, is reminiscent of a kitten mewling in distress.

In a patch of early morning sunlight, a gray catbird declares his territory.

Time to refill the bird bath -- again.

Protesting catbird from Florence Hill on Vimeo.