Where would we be without our
weather? It promotes conversation between old friends and unknown
acquaintances. “Nice day, (they say) it is going to get colder soon, so we had
better enjoy it while it lasts.” Every individual has their favorite kind of
day, related to and dependent on the weather. Weather can provide some of
natures most exhilarating experiences and often one never has to leave home to
be immersed. This time of year we can loose power or be trapped by mounds of
snow. Many of us have had to endure a sheet of ice, which has yet to dwindle.
Ice has coated all of the fields, lawns and driveways. Just getting to an
automobile requires nimble steps. I cannot use my driveway without ice
creepers, these old bones would not fare well, from a slip and slide tumble.
This past week, the river has seen
its share of enhanced and varied weather events. Tuesday a lake effect storm
threatened to dump up to two feet of snow. The schools were closed and the wind
was a wicked nuisance. We did not get a lot of snow along the river, but what
did tumble down, kept a tumbling along at a good clip. There were times when I
looked out of the windows into an opaque curtain of white. Birds were stacked
up in a cedar tree out of the wind, awaiting a chance to feed. Each time the
snow cleared they fluttered down to eat at the feeder. It was the most birds
that I have seen at one time, this season. Pickings have gotten slim for all of
the wildlife and each of them endure in their own fashion.
Wednesday it was clear and cold, with
blue skies dominating the day. I used my field glasses to scope out the river
and three tiny dots, moving from Carleton Island. The dots were three whitetail
deer on the ice, moving to the east. I can not say they were doing much
stepping; it was more of a sliding effort. In an instant they huddled together
almost forming a circle. The group was hundreds of yards from the island when a
lone coyote came strolling along. The loner was moving to the west and took a
slight interest in the deer. It only paused for a few seconds to dismiss the
idea of running the deer down. The deer were a good distance from it. Had this
coyote been part of a pack, the deer would have all been in peril. Once the
coyote vanished onto the island, the deer moved on. The deer moved down river along
Wolfe Island, still taking ginger steps on the glassy surface.
Later that morning, close to noon I
received a phone call from a neighbor; “Mike are you home? There is a deer with
a broken leg on the river in front of your cabin. What can we do? It keeps
trying to get up and it can’t move more than a step.” I volunteered to call the
DEC and see if a conservation officer could come and dispatch the deer. The
officer I called was near Hounsfield and I told him of the situation. Mind you
the lake effect snow was nowhere to be seen (here), but it was still pilling up
to the south. The officer responded to my request; “I have been told not to go
anywhere if it is not an emergency. I have two feet of snow in the driveway and
its still coming down. I don’t consider dispatching a deer an emergency… in
this kind of weather. I’ll see what I can do tomorrow when it clears up.” I did
not savor the idea of that deer having to be eaten alive and asked if there was
anyone else locally to call. “There is one other officer; he may be able to get
over to you. Give me you’re address and I’ll call him. I can’t make any
promises”. I thanked him for his effort and told him that I understood his
situation. The deer was going be on its own, in the hands of nature.
Before nightfall I could see that the
deer lay with its head facing the shoreline, 200 yards away. A rear leg pointed
to the west, while a front leg pointed east. Its glassed eyes were open and
there was no movement. At least it had given up the ghost undisturbed. Now it
belonged to the river and all of the predators. I wondered if the coyotes would
find it overnight or if it would be there for weeks, drawing the attention of
raptors. Thursday morning the deer was still intact and undisturbed. The day
was bright (once again) and the deer carcass would stand out like a ‘McDonalds’
along an interstate. If there were any eagles, crows or ravens, they would be
drawn to one bountiful feast. The unpleasant methodic demise of one creature
often results in the thriving of others. Nature deals with over population in
what seems like cruel drastic fashion. She culls the numbers according to what
the land can bare and she also maintains an efficient clean up crew.
I shared some fresh perch with
neighbors Thursday (as I intend to get many more, before winters end). When I
returned home I saw three mature bald eagles around the deer. They approached
the deer cautiously making sure that it was not alive. Two of them began their
work around the head and stood on their meal as they tore away at the hide. The
third stood atop the hind quarters and used its beak to break off flesh. I made
my way outside to get a photograph. They each stopped eating and focused on me.
I was a long ways from being too close, but they took to the air none the less.
I got one photo of them leaving. The eagles each flew in different directions
to land on the river ice. They refused to come back while I was in sight. It
makes me wonder how often they are still harassed and even shot at by poachers.
Friday I took part in the annual
eagle survey, done by the Department of the Interior. I got up and out to over
look the deer carcass, as daylight broke. It began to snow and visibility was
poor. Starlings and some late season robins added a much missed song of cheer
to the morning air. I had high anticipation of seeing a good number of eagles
to count. I spent over an hour with snow pelting the back of my neck. In the
distance, in a tree on Carleton Island, I saw two eagles on roost. It was hazy
due to the snow fall, but the size and stature of the birds confirmed what they
were. At least I got to see two for the survey.
Sunday morning I went out early again
to watch the process on the deer. A lone mature eagle worked over the deer,
until it had a full belly and cascaded off. Soon after that a large black
northern raven, caught sight of the deer. It landed on the ice and slowly
approached the deer, as the eagles had done before. If you have never seen one
of these jet black birds, they are large and impressive. I could not believe
how big it was standing on the deer! The raven has retuned a number of times to
do natures work, as a member of the clean-up crew. A pair of crows were on the deer,
when I went down to my boathouse yesterday, to check on my Lyman.
Earlier in the week I had to get into
the boathouse to retrieve my electric fillet knife. It was blowing and snowing
at the time. The boat was covered in eight inches of snow that mounded up on
the canvas cover. The wind was blowing in under the doors and even the cobwebs
wore the snow. The dangling looped strands looked like fine lace bridging one
wall to the other. Sunday I was worried that the melting snow would become ice
and put too much stress on the canvas. I took a broom and shuffled the snow
off, revealing the bright blue canvas. I rubbed the gunnels of the old boat and
told her; “It won’t be long now, were halfway there. Less than ninety days to
go and the river will be ours again”…
