Its finally warmed up here in central Minnesota. A robin perched herself in the neighbor's crab apple tree and sang to my kids and me earlier this week.
I pointed the corvid out to my son and he smiled. Then to my daughter. I've always loved the sweet simple songs of our orange breasted friends. I whistled and the bird seemed to respond. My four year old son asked if I was talking to the bird. I thought about it and deepened my call. Once, twice and the bird responded. The childrens' faces lit up when the bird's own voice deepened in response to mine. The robin watched us from the branches by her nest. She seemed fairly undisturbed by our presence. We walked around the yard, surveying the last of the snow around the north side of the house.
I thought about that robin. How not a month ago a flock of starlings hung out in that tree nearly every day. They'd moved on it seemed. That's fine by me. If this were the country side, there'd be one less of them each time I could focus an airgun on their viscious little bodies. I know its their nature but it doesn't mean I have to like it.
I thought about the pests I'm often called upon to cull. From inside barns to the pens and grain elevators which draw pigeons and sparrows by the multitude. The fields where rodents feast on the succulent fresh shoots of beans and alfalfa. The snows melt away. Dormant lawns begin to perk up and spring flowers cast forth new blossoms.
Its almost time. If the spring weather is dry, the farmers will be tilling the fields early. They'll plant their seeds then the "rut" will begin. Soon after the fields will seem alive with hungry little opportunists, waiting for the shoots to sprout. If the weather is wet, I'll be hunting pests around the barns and storage buildings. I can't wait. Just give me a dry lane where I can sight in to seventy or eighty yards. That's all I want right now. The chance to prepare.
It always hits me hard this time of year. The itch to be on the hunt. Knowing that not soon enough I'll be staring at unremarkable holes in a field fifty or more yards ahead of me. Just waiting for a head to poke out of one and survey my quiet presence.
The crack of dawn. Chilled to the bone and waiting. The first rays of the sun break the horizon and I wait for her warming glow to finally fall across my shoulders and back. Those field gophers are out there. Wating for the same morning's greeting. Waiting to come to the surface where the radiant light will warm their bones too.
Those are my moments. The brisk air (what am I talking about? Its still damned cold out there this time of year!) chills my lungs and the modern coffee mug with its seal-tight lid keeps it at bay. My breath drifts away from me on not quite still air. This day will warm up fast. Still, if I'm going to be of service to the guy asked me to do this, I have to be here before they come to surface. This is what I've been waiting for after all.
Waiting for the signs of the season.
Great stuff, Harv. We've got similar happenings our way, but I think we're a couple weeks behind you...
It's been windy here, on the coast of the Bay of Fundy. The robins arrived last Thursday evening. (they're thrushes, not corvids, btw). The sparrow population has exploded with the recent returnees too, I can't put a dent in them. Saw another smallish songbird I don't have a name for, colored rather like a house sparrow, but 2x the size and a smoother, less mottled colour. Almost terra cotta.
The woods are still full of snow, and it highlights the margins of our lawn. A weekend woods-walk had me up to my waste a few times, when the crust proved inadequate for my substantial weight.
This has been the slowest blooming spring I can remember here. The snow mass in the woods inland is very heavy still, folks are hoping the spring stays slow, or flooding will be bad. Another few weeks will tell that story. Luckily, I'm near no rivers, and if my place floods, old Al Gore was understating our problems.
So it's early spring signs here, the REAL signs will begin showing up soon. Purple and yellow finches, spring peepers, and early crocuses. Nights with above freezing lows.
Alas, snow is in tonight's forcast, and I'll be at a hockey game (Saint John Sea Dogs, Quebec Major-Junior league), flying the blimp between periods. At least it's the playoffs, another sure sign of spring. And sign of a weird spring, as our team isn't in last place
After tonight's snow, the forcast has us up to almost 40F for highs for the next week. Lows around 28F. Our south facing veggy garden will thaw pretty soon with that weather, I figger I'll tune the tiller up the weekend after next.
This is one of my favorite times of year. The cheerful brilliant light greens of new leaves, springing forth from the dead greys and browns of the landscape, the cool, inviting temperatures... It's second only to those starkly clear fall days, with their brilliant colours and fresh winds heralding the winter to come.... Spring's more optimistic, while fall seems to be nostalgic...
Anyway, spring's first signs abound today, and winter's icy grip is thawing...
Thanks on the thrush point. I see you're itching the same as I am haha. Why is it that hunting, in all its forms, can become a need for some people?
I don't know the answer to that question but it doesn't bother me either. Just like killing a bug in the house or bringing a fish in on the line for the dinner table. What we do is much more kind than the way nature takes care of its aged and sick. Watching one animal, regardless of what it is, munch down another which is still alive... makes me believe every member of PETA is safely esconced in the brickwork of the big city. Never to have actually witnessed how nature takes care of itself.
It's a cruel world. Most animal rights activists, be they PETA, anti-sealers, etc. are the same as any other special interest groups. Thousands of centrist, reasonable, intelligent people out shouted by a couple dozen closed minded, ignorant, egotistical, arm waving fanatics. Heather Mills types.
My wife is a lover of cute fuzzy animals. She would like me to start deer hunting. Her thoughts are that
1) we eat meat.
2) the meat we eat is from farmed animals. Farmed animals lead the sort of bland, safe, comfortable life that the nanny staters keep pushing us towards. Born, raised, and killed in "controlled" conditions
3) wild game gets a chance at the free, natural life we all wish we could live. Subject to all the whims of nature, hunger, cold, harsh conditions. And all the rewards of nature, large ranges, varied diets, natural reproduction, a surprising death at the end.
In short, which would you rather be? The chicken in the factory farm, every need addressed, as you sit, eat, sleep, **** in your little cage, or run free, deal with the risks as best you can, die one day in a manner you can only guess at?
Clear to me. Unfortunately, it seems that Soylent Green is in our futures...
My other hobby (one of...) is RC aircraft. I haven't flown since mid November. Itchin'.
Jason, You Tom Anderson and I have a lot in common. He and I also fly RC but I'll wager you and he are much more into it than I am.
I have a Slow Stick that still isn't together (after a year plus) because rather than build, I just want to fly. I suppose I could make the time to build, but that's one hobby where I could not care any less how the things work or what it takes to put them together. I just want ready-to-fly and off we go lol.
Might be my mistake was an Airhog Stealth that flew incredibly well. All's I care for are the park flyers.
Ah, election time! Yep. That time of year has arrived.
The politico birds are returning to Washington.
That pungent tang of BS wafts on the soft spring breezes......
The old farmer and his wife commence to planting misconceptions in anticipation of a boon November harvest.
Of course, all this rush of sap and such gets the blood a'boiling and that, naturally, can lead to hunting in these here capital parts. (Guess what kind of airgun he's using? The other was a refurb from Umarex.)
Yup, Harv, I'm a little deeper in than that, but only a little.
Flying a kitbashed S-Ray trainer, a Herr Aquastar 1/2a flying boat, a Dynaflite .40size P51D, and new for this season, a Byron Originals Pipe Dream 38cc gasser...
This weekend the frost heaves in the road shrank by half. Yesterday was sunny and 5C (what, 40F?). Went for a walk in the park with the wife and daughter, the ducks were so overfed by folks enjoying the day, they wouldn't come over for bread. Never seen that before!
Woodpeckers are back now, saw a couple red winged black birds and a pair of cowbirds on Saturday. Things're lookin' up!
<Guess that 5 million years of evolution cannot be erased by mere 15,000 of "civilization". Deep down, we are all hunting primates.>
Great point Hector! In truth after a lifetime of observation of the human animal it is ny carefully considered belief that 'civilization' is a VERY thin patina atop the prime predator on the globe. We have but to review the atrocities of war to see that demonstrated in an inarguable fashion.
Hunters, perhaps more than any other distinct 'class', wear that patina more lightly than others. But the universal atavistic propensity to stare into a campfire is so commonplace as to brook little confusion on the subject. I often wonder what spirits others see in the embers. Tom
I think that patina thins the closer we come to see reality as it is. Living in the big cities limits that by the very definition. You can't see nature when its been pushed outside a comfortable boundary. I think some, but not all, who choose to forgo eating meat are only doing it because their sensibilities have been aroused. To kill to eat for sustenance. Rather than admit the truth to themselves, they might prefer the belief that humans are somehow not part of the "circle of life" as Mufasa in The Lion King so eloquently was written to say.
In my case, the cull provides a better solution, so as not to use pesticides that some of those vegetarians can eat their produce.
I should really make up a T shirt:
If you're a vegetarian, you're welcome. I'm the guy who shoots the critters on the farms before they can eat your salad.
Harve & Tim will understand:
Daffodils and Forsythia already fading here. Redbuds in full pop. Wild Plums and Pears sporting halos of white blossoms. Trout Lilies and Violets have been blooming for a couple of weeks along the rivers. Overnight high was in the mid 40s and by 9AM it was already in the high 50s. Calm, no wind. The very exemplar of a perfect Spring day in the Ozarks. So what's an airgunner to do on such a day? If he's also a motorcyclist and shot the day before he drags out the riding gear and checks it for spiders, then takes the trickle charger off of the bike, runs it down to the gate to check for function, pulls up in front of the shop, strings the airhose outside and tops up the tires, steals some gas from the wifes' lawnmower supply, sprays the chain with some lube, dons gear and goes 'gravel roading' in 80 degree weather.
I only got in @ 25 miles before the trick knee started griping about being folded up, but considering that it took @ an hour what with several stops to pee, smoke and stare off of bridges guaging upcoming fishing opportunities it was enough to regenerate the spirits, clear Winter fog from the mind and fill the lungs with allergins it sufficed. Besides---a sneezing fit from all of the pollen in the air isn't conducive to utter safety on gravel roads recently subjected to torrential downpours and rutted like a battlefield.
Would you believe I wished you two had been along? Tom
Nice story Mr Tom. Shure wish I could have been riding with you,It would be an honor my friend. Im shure Harvey would not miss it for the world either! Seems Curtis rides too! As a young boy MANY years ago, I used to pack my little Kaw. 100 dual purpose down w/fishing rod,tackle& of course my trusy Cros. 760 pump rifle & head off deep into the Fla. everglades for many big adventures I still remember today! My best friend had a Yammie DT 125 & I think an HW 30 break brl.?? Man did we have fun! Glad to hear you had a nice ride,thanks for sharing w/us. I wish for you: the rains stop, the roads get graded & your knee feels better! Tim.
Now you're making me feel old! That little yellow 100 was released in '72 IIRC as a loss-leader to get people into trail/street riding. Can't even imagine how many of them I sold at $399 + TTL! But I DO recall that one of them was to my current spouse for her oldest daughter. Thru that intro her husband at that time joined the trials association I had started shortly beforehand and thru some odd happenstances she and I wound up together 12 years later. Best thing that ever happened to me!
Here's a funny you may be able to appreciate. After getting back from my ride I tinkered in the shop a while. (even took a couple of small freeflight models down to the cleared area around the garden to fly) and then decided to ride down to the meadow along the river to see if there was anything there worth salvaging from the latest flood. The trail along the edge of the woods looked firm so I headed downstream. Traction went from "Hey---this'll work" to "Oh s**t!" in a heartbeat! Now I know you've "Been there, done that" before so when I say that you can't stop a streetbike or turn around abruptly in deep mud you'll understand perfectly. I made a long, gently arcing turn that led me all the way to the edge of the river in order not to stop and get headed in the right direction. I am very proud to report that even on a street motorcycle at 68 years of age I can still ride the mechanical equivilent of a drunk snake with my feet on the pegs until I acquire Terra Firma once more!;O) But I never learn! Did the very same thing 2 weeks ago!:O( Once agaim I had to turn on an outside faucett at the wellhouse in order to wash the mud off. Oh well---should be able to leave it on for the rest of the year unless we get a late cold snap.
What does this have to do with airguns? I shoulda stayed at home and finished a few airgun projects rather than go mud-bogging! Tom
