Christine’s Nature Journal
I began keeping a nature journal decades ago. Below are excerpts from those journals sharing my experiences with dogs, cats and horses, and observing the natural world.
April 1, 2018
It is a noisy morning in the backyard this first day of April, this Easter Sunday - doves cooing, grackles whistling and bluejays squawking. Wednesday’s rain has left the ground soft and revived the grass. A grackle perches on the sunflower seed feeder; he shimmies down the cage and pokes his long black beak in between the grate squares, black feathers shiny in morning light.
More Owl Chronicles 2018 and the Rest of March
I look at the empty entrance of the owl box and feel only sadness, mostly for the male owl. There is still time for him to find another mate, but disappointment weights on me right now. I have not heard him during the night and can’t find him roosting in the wax leaf ligustrums.
Owl Chronicles 2018 – A Sad Beginning
Somehow I sensed it when I looked at the owl box this morning and the owl was not peeking out as he has done every morning since September. Somehow I knew he was not there.
February 28, 2018
The last morning of February feels like the first day of spring. The redbud is finally beginning to bloom, surrounded by a circle of elegant white irises. A squirrel perches on the walnut tree stump, teasing Daisy who watches from the deck. The owl looks outside his box, catching the morning light.
February 10, 2018
The moment I walked into Willis’ paddock the cold front blew in.
January 14, 2018
Yesterday morning there was a dove stuffed in the entrance of Tim’s box, hanging upside down, beheaded.
January 8, 2018
The sky was a blanket of clouds as I pulled out of the driveway, the temperature dropping with each mile on Hwy. 290. By the time Daisy and I reached Scattered Oaks it was 36 degrees; icy moisture sprayed our faces.
Solstice
Time began for light and life, for splendor and grandeur. Time began for seas and mountains, for flowers and birds. Time began for the valleys to ring with the songs of life, And for the wilderness to echo with the wailing of wind