Spring has sprung like a yet to be
photographed North Country cougar! There are green buds popping out of both
brush and trees. Pussy willows have already developed and are now turning into
flowers. New arrivals continue to appear each day while I observe the River.
The past week enticed me to enter the raised bed gardens and see to some early
plantings.
I used my antique hand cultivator to
work the raised beds. It has five long metal fingers with tear drop ends and
works the beds as well as a modern tiller. The best part of using it; the fuel
comes from my arms and not some foreign country. There is no sweeter aroma than
the worked earth rising to meet the spring’s breath. After a few days of
allowing the soil to dry, I sowed some frost tolerant seeds. I marked two rows
of collards and spinach, with short cedar sticks that had fallen during the
winter. My pup Zoey determined that those sticks would be better used in her
mouth as chew toys. I’d place two into the soil and turn to do the other end…
only to find them gone! The dog lay on the ground with one in her mouth and the
other between her front feet.
A number of chipmunks have emerged to
scour the ground for food, preferring newly panted seeds. I placed a fence
around the spinach to discourage the loss of tender shoots to the brown
stripped invaders. They don’t have a taste for collards and have never bothered
them. In another bed I used the better part of a pack of pea seeds. Five rows
in all will be next to the asparagus and ready soon after I get the last of the
asparagus.
A warm rain one evening brought out a
number of frogs that took to crossing the road on my way home from work. As I
traveled I could hear a chorus of peepers serenading from puddles and ponds.
They were even on the hill behind my cabin and the sound was soothing to hear.
I took Zoey out for her final walk of the evening and carried along a flash
light. Dozens of night crawlers lay across the warm ground and it is still
March! I am seeing things that usually occur two weeks to a month later.
The improved weather drew me to my
dock for a little fishing one morning. Bluebill ducks were everywhere, casting
about in short flurries to settle down with another group. They rise from the River
like they have a butt full of lead, dragging it along until air-bourn. The
landing is much more graceful and they glide on the wind like a kite. They were
busy diving to the bottom of the River for crustaceans. Canada geese rose in
the early morning light collecting the sun on their feathers. They headed
inland to seek out a field where they could search for spent seed. A lone king
fisher flew over head with its raspy voice trailing off in the distance. The
silent short days have given way to an early rebirth on the River.
I even spotted an osprey that had
returned to its nest on a tall pole. Last year I did not see one until
mid-April. To date I have heard one pair of killdeers as they traveled under a
night sky, migrating to some far off breeding ground.
Saturday morning a pair of blue
herons flew just above the Rivers surface. Their wing beats nearly grazing the
rising white capped waves. Long lumbering silhouettes with a steady wing beat of
black and grey cast their shadows over the River. Not a minute later I was
privileged to see another pair of them following the same course.
Anglers have been out in good numbers
along French Creek seeking bullheads. They have had some of the best March
weather that one could ever hope to enjoy. Sandy and I enjoyed breakfast at
Bella’s one morning, while watching perch anglers in boats, just off of the
docks. They were bundled up with coats, hats and gloves catching fish with
regularity. We pretty much had the restaurant to ourselves and it was strange.
When we visit there in the summer months the proprietors do a bustling
business. Getting to enjoy their waterfront view can be a challenge. We wish
them the best of seasons but must admit the experience was unique. Good food, a
warm reception and a casual demeanor.
I noticed an early influx of seasonal
folks over the last two warm weeks. New faces appeared at the grocery store, to
begin another season on the River. On
Carleton Island an early islander took advantage of this unusual weather. He
was there for a couple of weeks and departed yesterday, just ahead of the cold
night that followed. I enjoyed and was envious of his travels across the blue
shimmering River. Pleasure boats have
been out and the ice free River posses no emanate danger. Shipping opened up as
well this past week and I saw a few freighters with freshly painted hulls,
travel in both directions.
March has flown by with all of the
activity. This month is usually the longest for me. A do nothing month that
lingers on into April with melting snow, muddy yards and reluctant ice… that
melts at a snails pace. I have been so busy outdoors that I have yet to get
ready for the trout opener this Sunday! Now that is a serious situation that I
will have to rectify immediately. If you will excuse me, I have reels to wind
line on and lures to sort and dancing trout to tame, in my imagination. My
imagination seldom resembles reality, much like this month of March “2012”.
