Matsiyikkapisaiki'somm

II Rattlesnakes Rising (21Apr12)

1449 Pitsiiksiinaikawaahko - It's a warm day, probably about sixteen degrees, the skies in motion with cumulus clouds. We've just arrived at Matsiyikkapisaiki'somm, the frog moon, so I suspect my slithering friends are awake, and I'm looking forward to visiting them. I also want to see whether the plants I expected to emerge weeks ago are doing so yet. Already, at the coulee rim, I'm observing musineon near to flower and moss phlox in white bloom. They are, in my estimation, just a bit late this year. Normally, I find them in this state, and even a bit further along, by the end of Sa'aiki'somm. But then, it's probably nearing two weeks since I last walked here, so they may not be far off

1503 I take my usual route down the coulee slope, noticing a great insect presence along the way. Lots of cowpath tiger beetles and ants of various species, as well as a few redwing clickhoppers, and even a Hunt's bumblebee

About two thirds of the way down to the hibernaculum, while on a stretch of trail that follows a wide ledge, I encounter my first rattler of the day. It's a young snake, probably just two or three years old. What bewilders me is why it should be here on the trail, so far from the hibernaculum. We're still weeks away from their normal departure from the den

The snake is nervous, and when it's pretty sure I'm not intent on attack, it begins to retreat off the trail into some deep grass. I follow, curious where it will lead me. Together, we move about five meters, right to the edge of the shelf, where the coulee slope becomes steep again. Here, there is an old badger hole, and the rattler moves into it. Immediately, my thinking is that this one actually wintered here, separated from the rest (I don't see any others around). That, to me, is the only logical explanation for its positioning on the trail, out of the high grass, where it could bask. And looking at the situation now, it makes sense. These snakes always winter on wide shelves of the coulee slope, preferring especially those shelves that rise in a kind-of single horn feature before the land falls again. This creates something like a terrestrial bowl on the slope. And if badgers have dug in there previously, then the snakes inherit a perfect den, relatively sheltered by rising land on two sides, and trenched below the frost line

1529 When I reach the main hibernaculum, I find exactly what I'd expected, a heap of basking rattlers at the main entrance. There are at least seven or eight of them, judging by heads, but I suspect several more. I'm not bothering to get an actual count today, and I don't think I'll walk around to the other entrances either. I'm just happy to be in their presence again after the long winter separation. They're such beautiful animals, and one of my metrics for whether or not we're in serious trouble. So long as the rattlesnakes continue to return to the hibernaculum, I feel secure

1554 Now leaving the den. Not once did I cause a stir, even though, little by little, I made my way within near-touching distance of the basking ancients. I feel so privileged to be one of a small minority of humans who not only respect these snakes, but know them well enough to approach closely and safely. In my experience, they usually mirror whatver it is we're feeling. And if it involves fear, then they'll return exactly that

1619 I make my way down to the sagebrush flat. Here, as expected, the yellow bells are in bloom. There are also lots of otsiikini flowered down here already, which is fairly normal, perhaps a touch early. The otsiikini are, as usual, being visited by naamoo, the so-called Hunt's bumblebee. I'm pretty certain I'll find kippiaapii (prairie crocus) growing on the rise above the black cliffs, overlooking the river confluence. I'll check to confirm, but only after giving some attention to a certain fly I've been noticing on the ground by my feet

1639 These flies are pretty mysterious. There are lots of them swarming around a long patch of a certain (unknown) species of grass that always falls flat during winter. At first, I expect to learn that the flies are mating here. And perhaps they are. But if so, their mating ritual is peculiar. I focus my attention on one of the flies and follow it around. It seem to be searching the new, green grass for something. It will start near the base of one such grass stem and work its way up to the end of the highest blade, then go find another stem and repeat the process. I walk a few paces away, turn my attention toward another fly, and find it doing the same thing. I see nothing on the grass itself that they might be interest (at least nothing discernible to a human eye), and they don't seem to be pausing anywhere as though they'd found what they were looking for. I take some macro shots of these flies, hoping to at least secure an identity. Perhaps in the future I'll learn what business they have with this grass

1652 Eventually I make my way to the rise where the kippiaapii grow. They are indeed present, but most of them are only beginning to come into flower. By next week they should be in full bloom. I look out from atop the black cliffs at the river confluence and am a bit surprised to still see a female goldeneye here. Most have moved north already. There is also a pair of mi'ksikatsi and an aapsspini couple who either couldn't nest or had their clutch hit by predators

1713 From the cliffs, I move back down and crawl into the hawthorn brush to download images off the camera trap I have set up here. Over the last couple weeks, the hollows in this brush have been visited by all the usual characters... porcupine, cottontails, and deer mice by night, magpies and chickadees during the day. I've set the camera to video mode now, to find out what behaviors I can capture between now and my next visit

1740 Coming out of the brush, I find a hornet inspecting my backpack. They're out now too. I wait for the wasp to depart, then reshoulder the pack and march back up the coulee slope. About halfway, I begin to encounter meadowlarks on the buckbrush. They're a dominant (obvious) presence all the way to the rim

III Mi’ksikatsi Territoriality (22Apr12)

1719 Sspopiikimi - Tonight is our first evening sit-and-watch session for the season... far preferable to perching in front of the television. It's nice and comfortable-warm outside, as many of the basking turtles agree

We've just hiked in along the west length and set up our chairs on the grassy cutbank about halfway between the ksisskstakioyis and the wide south pool, above the Gosling Couple, who are still guarding this territory. The Beaver Lodge and Northpond couples are sticking to their respective nest areas too, even though all have failed their first attempt. But there are another eight pairs in the wide south pool who aren't behaving territorial at all

A few days ago, the mi'ksikatsi couples at mid- and northpond were widely spaced far apart from one another, while those in the south pool were more groupish. Today, there are two drakes together at midpond, while the southpond couples (eight of them) have adopted the distant spacing

 It doesn't look like the wigeons are around anymore, nor the wood duck pair. But we've only initially glassed those observable from our position. No telling who will emerge as the evening goes on

1804 Almost an hour in and not too much to note. Many of the aapsspini came up our cutbank to go eat grass on the golf greens, but were eventually chased back to the water by a greens-keeper in a golf cart. There've been several squabbles between ganders, all of which seemed protective of their mates, but not territorial. Also, among the mi'ksikatsi, I witnessed a drake chase a female away from another drake, who he then returned to and fed beside

The redwings and killdeer are picking in the mud at the edge of the wet-meadows. Some robins have already begun to sing their dusk song from the forest main. And where we're sitting the lens-podded hoary cress is starting to come up

1846 Feeling unwelcome on the golf greens, most of the aapsspini have moved out onto the wet-meadows to feed. The mi'ksikatsi, ever a mystery, are alternately dip-feeding in the shallows, sleeping on the islands, or flying away to the river

I decide to take a little walk for relief over to the currant and bulberry patch above the peninsula. Along the way, I come across an adult painted turtle in the grass beside the path. It's dead, unfortunately. But what's the cause? Both of its front hands have been torn off, right at the wrist, and there's a little bit of chipping around the edges of the shell. I suspect it was caught and gnawed on by a coyote at first, then set upon by gulls or magpies and, while trying to push the latter away, lost its hands. Now the poor turtle is ant food

Returning to Mahoney and my seat, I get a quick update on the geese and ducks... who moved where, and why. It's clear we've seen most of what we're going to tonight, in terms of phenological events. I suggest we head'er home, and Mahoney agrees

III ) lllllll Asparagus Harvest (29Apr12)

1348 Sspopiikimi - It's a relatively warm day, warm enough to feel comfortable in just shorts and a t-shirt anyway. I'm out to conduct my usual survey, but I'm particularly interested to see how the asparagus is coming along, and to harvest if it's ready. We've had a few days of rain recently, and usually when we get these first good stretches of rain it means the asparagus will shoot up

1351 North-pond is pretty busy this afternoon. I'm counting six pairs of aapsspini, four mi'ksikatsi couples, three mi'ksikatsi drakes, and a wigeon drake. As I make this count, the drake of one of the mi'ksikatsi pairs comes paddling out from where he and his wife were on the opposite shore. He makes some quacking sounds and is headed straight toward another couple in what I interpret as an aggressive approach. Sure enough, within moments his is giving chase to them, pursuing them out toward the river before returning again to land near his wife. She must have an egg cache somewhere on the wet-meadows

1415 As I'd suspected, the asparagus is rising. In fact, many of the shoots, at least at the established plant of north-pond, are already developing their first branches and becoming woody. It's now or never for harvesting. I pick all the younger shoots and leave the more developed ones to reproduce. Also, I'm seeing lots of red variable darners in the area, and note that the okonoki is in full bloom. It seems to me a bit early for these saskatoons to flower. Aapistsisskitsaato's, when they usually bloom full, is still a few weeks away

1422 There's a stark contrast between conditions at the pond and those just over the levee at the river. The pond is quite shallow and clear today. I can easily see the bottom, and the dormant milfoil is almost touching the surface. The river, by comparison, is swollen and murky. The rocky area downstream from the big island, where one of the aapsspini nests was recently raided by gulls, is now completely submerged. It wouldn't have made it even if the gulls had left it alone

1459 Leaving the river cutbank, I drop down in the forest main and move out onto the wet-meadows to check my camera trap. Along the way, I notice that some of the migratory female passerines have begun to arrive, the robins and redwings in particular. Now that they're here, nesting should commence soon

The videos on my camera trap show pretty much the usual players of the big bulberry patch. There is a lot of footage of the pheasant rooster, as well as several visits by magpies, and passings of a coyote and porcupine at night

Continuing south in the meadow, I come across a mi'ksikatsi couple in the subpond. They're behaving with particular boldness, fighting the urge to retreat when I walk by. I suspect they too have a nearby egg cache, and I'll bet it's in the buckbrush at the forest edge, though I'm not able to find anything when I peek around a bit

1525 The sandy soil near the duck blind overlooking the wide south pool is always good for asparagus gathering. Certainly it doesn't let me down today. But as at north-pond, many of the shoots here are already too tall and woody. I leave about half of them alone for this reason

In the wide pool itself, there are two more aapsspini couples and three mi'ksikatsi pairs at present. Like the okonoki, the golden currant are all abloom here. The chokecherry, for its part, is just beginning to leaf out. In the trees along the forest edge-zone here, I note another new arrival, the yellow-rumped warbler, always the first warbler to return

1538 In hopes of finding more asparagus, I decide to continue hiking south, following the river cutbank, rather than making my usual turn back around to the west length of the pond. When I come within sight of the river, I stop to sit on a bench near what used to be the garter snake hibernaculum. A crane fly moves past among the remains of last-years leafy spurge, hunting for insect prey. Then two honey bees arrive, one after the other, with full pollen sacks. They land in the grass near my feet, disappear momentarily, then fly away when I crouch to check on them. Seems odd they'd stop here, unless there's a nest. This is very close to where we encountered the swarm last summer, but they had moved up toward the coulee slope. Perhaps their old nest is here somewhere. Would they have a reason to revisit it?

As I'm dealing with the bees, a raven is flying along below the rim of the high-level bridge, searching for pigeons. It is calling out to its [unseen] partner as it does so. Moments later, a man emerges below the bridge, in the park on the other side of the river. He's accompanied by two women, and I don't know why, maybe his pecker is too small, but right away he begins loudly mimicking the corvid's call in a tone purposely much more obnoxious. The raven, for its part, decides it's time to fly away. I don't blame the bird. Some people...

1603 From the owl wood, all the way along the cliffs upstream to the next floodplain, I find no asparagus. I do however encounter a number of insects. There are mourning cloak and cabbage white butterflies, a few wasps, and a huge wolf spider carrying an egg sack below and behind her abdomen

I figure, since I'm already in the upstream forest, I might as well continue looking around a bit more for my precious shoots. Some years ago, I lived right above this floodplain and walked through this forest many times. I don't recall there being any asparagus. But then again, I hadn't even know that these escaped plants lived along the Oldman until a few years ago, so I probably wouldn't have recognized them if I came across a mature patch

1658 Pretty disappointing. I check the whole floodplain upstream and am unable to find a single asparagus plant. Most of the forest here has been converted into an obstacle course for mountain and dirt bikes, the entire understory cleared of vegetation, and the soil landscaped to create dips and jumps. I did, however, spot my first fire-rimmed tortoise butterfly of the season, and I've managed to locate a couple asparagus plants now on my way back toward the high-level bridge, following a trail about half-way up the coulee slope

1724 Soon I am walking the west length of the pond, back to my vehicle, and here there is good news. One of the geese is sitting a nest on the little island in front of the ksisskstakioyis. She might be a week into the incubation, hard to tell, but I really hope she makes it. Our summer would be rather depressing without goslings on the pond

III ) llllllllllllllllll Redheads Return (10May12)

1334 Sspopiikimi - Woke up to sleet again this morning, but the clouds have broke now, and it looks like it could be a sunny afternoon. We've been having warm stretches broken up every four or five days by brief, cold storms like this coming down from the north. I've just pulled in, and already I can see there are some exciting things underway

The magpie nest, in the brush by the parking lot, seems to be doing very well. The parents are still tending to it, and I'm sure they have hatchlings by now. I can't confirm that though, because it's too high to reach without potentially causing damage. The greatest danger period for the nest itself is over though. The chokecherry brush that it's set in has leafed-out, and all is well-concealed. The next big challenge will be keeping the fledglings from being bumped on the road when they're initially out of the nest. Luckily, the main artery that keep traffic passing near is closed for the summer. All we'll have to worry about are golfers and visitors to the pond

The same pipeline project that has closed the road coming down into the coulee is complete here at the river-bottom. The large area affected in the absinthe field was sprayed with brome seed a couple months ago, and the new grass is just beginning to grow. This has not gone unnoticed by the geese, and presently there are three aapsspini couples taking advantage of the opportunity. As I watch them feeding, I notice another large bird approaching. It is one of the swainson hawks, and it's carrying a long branch in its talons. The hawk passes low by me and the geese, and wings its way somewhat awkwardly to the old nest at the edge of the forest main. Yes! We will definitely have hawk babies again this year

1343 The big news for the day (I'm already declaring) is that we have goslings. I see them as soon as I come within sight of north-pond, an aapsspini family with six babies. They could have come from the little island in front of the ksisskstakioyis, but from where I stand it appears to be now submerged. Or they might have been born on the big river island. Hard to say, I haven't followed closely enough this round. But now that they're here, it's cause for celebration as far as I'm concerned. We would have an incredibly lonely summer if there were no goslings

There are others to note here at north-pond as well... three additional pairs of aapsspini (one of them rather close to the new family), as well as tree swallows swooping past. Looking toward midpond, I can see two more aapsspini couples and a pair of mi'ksikatsi. No coots at this end though. I was sure I'd see coots today. They should have been here weeks ago

1439 I'd asked my in-law, Myles, to meet me down here this afternoon. I need his help. There's a log in the north-wood, part of one of the beaver-fell cottonwood trees from last summer, that I've been scoping-out for a project. I tried to cut-out the six-foot section I want with a camp-saw last week, but it was just the wrong tool for the job. Myles is a chainsaw guru in the making, and I figured he'd make quick work of it

Before I moved away from north-pond, he and his wife Chelsea arrived. I showed him the tree, and the section I wanted to take. Sure enough, he cut it out pretty hastle-free. But getting it back to the parking lot was another thing entirely. I'd imagined him doing the cut for me, and then carrying it back on my shoulder later, after I'd done my round. Thankfully, Myles offered to help me carry it too. The log must weight close to two-hundred pounds, a bit more than me at least. I could maneuver the log, pick it up, turn it on end, etc. But there was no way I could haul it back to the parking lot on my shoulder as envisioned. Myles considered doing the same at first, but even he, a great deal stronger than me, realized it was a two man job. Unfortunately, one of the two of us is an aging smoker, and not used to heavy lifting. It took five rests to get the log approximately three-hundred meters and over a levee to where my car is parked, and the last leg was all Myles, showing-off his Scottish ancestry (apparently stronger than mine) and hauling solo

1447 One of the last things Myles says, before we part ways, is very keen, "Those beavers are genius. They don't need any gas, or oil, or steel, and yet they can take down a whole tree"

Seriously winded from the log ordeal, I shoulder my camera pack again and head out sunwise, stopping soon to rest at a bench overlooking the big river island. It appears as though the more aggressive couple are still nested out there. If so, they'll likely bring their brood to the pond as well. I wonder though, how the goose population can continue to grow when so very many of their nests are raided by predators. In our best year at the pond, we've had three groups of goslings to follow. A far cry from the twenty or so couples who initially establish nests

1506 Leaving the river, I drop down through the forest main and out onto the wet meadows, to download videos and images off my camera trap in the big bulberry patch. As it turns out, some small bird, from the looks of it a blackbird, has been killed right in front of the camera, but too low for the lense to pick-up. I suspect it was a coyote's doing, seeing as how he's the only predator that has passed. But it could have been a weasel that just stayed out of range. Over the past couple weeks, there have been visits by magpies, robins, pheasants, coyotes, and porcupines. But the most dominant presence has been a whitetail doe, and in several bits of footage, a second deer's head can be seen laying low in the background. I suspect it's a fawn, but it seems a bit early, and at one point the doe lays down and no fawn comes to rest with her

1519 The whole time I wait in the bulberries, downloading film footage from the last couple weeks, a snipe can be heard in display somewhere above me, and a pheasant rooster crows from very near. He can probably see me, but I'm blind to him

When finally I'm able to leave the brush, I head out to the ksisskstakioyis. The little island that was in front of it, and being nested upon, is submerged so deep now that I can't even see it. I do, however, hear and see a couple male flickers in a tree on the opposite shore, still jousting for territory

Then, moving on toward the subpond, I find the canals full of water, and the swainson hawk perched near the old nest above. There's a pair of mallards here, just as there was two weeks ago, and again they're reluctant to depart, even at my approach. They must have a cache nearby

1537 The subpond mallard couple does eventually take flight as I get even closer, but they merely circle the area until I've walked away. I'm sure they must have eggs, and so from the subpond to the duck blind at the wide south pool, I check around in the most dense buckbrush patches. No success. These mi'ksikatsi are really exceptional at the art of camouflage and deception. It's no wonder they're the world's most prolific duck species

There are two more mallard couples in the south pool, along with three redhead couples. All are near the opposite shore at present, so I can't tell if Scabby, our favorite female redhead, is present

One thing I can now say with confidence is that the coots haven't arrived. That's absolutely bizarre. They're usually here by the end of sa'aiki'somm, and now we're almost a full lunar cycle beyond that. A second conspicuous absence are the yellow-headed blackbirds. They're not quite as late as the coots, but definitely running a close second

1557 I linger in the duck blind for a short time, during which a large caspian tern arrives and makes a few failed dives for pike. It's been a while, maybe even two years, since I've seen a caspian visit these waters

When the tern departs, I walk the shoreline along the wide south pool. It's sleeting now again, the skies darkening with stratus. On my route, a flush a few grey partridges and yellow-rumped warblers from currant bushes I pass. I also find several semi-mummified painted turtles. My guess is that the ring-billed gulls have been pulling them up on shore, traumatizing them to death, and then leaving the carcasses mostly uneaten. One of the turtles I find has a really pretty belly-shield, as well as an armpit full of carrion beetles. I knock the bugs off and pack the turtle away in my camera bag, to take home and make use of its shell

1603 I encounter the new goose family again at midpond, as I make my way toward the parking lot. There is a second aapsspini couple following them closely, with their necks and heads held down close to the pond surface. We've seen this kind of behavior before, Mahoney and I, and what it tells me is that not all six goslings are siblings. An adoption has taken place, as often does if there is a single child born to a goose couple. The parents of the adoptee are experiencing some emotional pain. They don't want to let go, even though it's safer if their child merges with the larger family. I wish we had followed closely enough to see which nests these birds came from. Given the behavior, I would guess the adoption occurred within the last twenty-four hours, if not immediately preceding my arrival. I feel for the heart-torn parents. But overall, I'm glad there are goslings here to follow this summer, and the behavioral betrayal of their background story will help us understand what's going on in future visits

III ) lllllllllllllllllllllll The Rattle-Less Snake (15May12)

1000 Pitsiiksiinaikawaahko - We've had a week of warm weather, but today the heat is going to get serious. Tomorrow, I have plans to go survey a potential site for gathering traditional foods near the mountains, and one of the things I'd like to do is set up a camera trap out there, to see what animals are around. But in order to do that, I need to fetch my camera from the coulee bottom here at the confluence

The snakes should be moving away from their hibernacula by now, and I've decided to try something new as a measure of added protection against accidental bites. Cleaning out my basement a few days ago, I found a pair of large, sand-filled ankle weights. I figure, if I wear them when I'm hiking up and down this coulee, not only will they give me an extra five inches or so protection above my boots, but a nice leg work-out as well

1022 One of the first things I notice, right up on the coulee rim, is all the dandelions in bloom. They're being visited by several kinds of pollinating insects - a black micromoth with white stripes, a tiny green sweat bee, some fire-rimmed tortoise shell butterflies. There are also a lot of black wasps (of a species I do not recognize) around. The wasps are behaving much as the large, black flies were on the sagebrush flats during my last visit, i.e. scouring the length of grass stems in search of something, pheromones perhaps

I'm busy photographing the activities of all these insects when something appears in my peripheral vision that triggers my mind to call for my attention. It is a large rattlesnake, quite mature, stretched out in the grass, entirely camouflaged, and missing its rattle. At the end of its tail, there is but a scabbed-over stub. It must have been attacked by some predator. But the snake is still very much alive, hunting for its next meal, so I'm assuming the predator didn't fare well. And for me, there could be no better confirmation of the wisdom of my choice to start wearing ankle weights here, than this encounter with a rattle-less viper

1045 Slow going today, I'm taking my time, and in twenty minutes move less than a quarter way down the coulee slope. For most of that distance, I'm following a vesper sparrow who's moving ahead of me on the trail. The sparrow will hop a ways, picking up a little bit of this and that on the trail, then stop for a minute or so and sing a few verses of its song. I'm also seeing more butterflies, mostly inornate ringlets I believe, though none of them are pausing long enough to confirm

1108 A bit further down the slope, I come across several varieties of flowering plants in bloom. In addition to more dandelions, there is cushion milkvetch, wild (purple) vetch, early yellow locoweed, and otsiikini or goldenbean. Among these flowers, the butterflies are far easier to identify. The orange ones I've been seeing are indeed inornate ringlets. There are also spring azures visiting the locoweed, a black butterfly I'm unfamiliar with at the otsiikini, and both pearl crescents and cabbage whites in the air

1119 I get off the trail down by the rattlesnake hibernaculum. During every summer previous, there's always been one younger snake who stays back a few weeks at the site. I'm not seeing this sentry today, but it could be underground at the moment. Unfortunately, all four access burrows into the hibernaculum are fairly grown over this year. I'm probably not going to get to witness the reproductive cycle of the black widows like I usually do, unless I find a clear badger hole elsewhere in the coulee

1137 Coming down onto the sagebrush flats, I note right away that the yellowbells are done flowering. Curiously though, I have real difficulty finding any of their seed pods. It seems some animal, I suspect a mouse, has been running around clipping off just these pods. The leaves and flower stem remain, and I figure larger herbavores would have munched these as well, and birds would have left remains of the pod casings, so the seed gatherer must be a small mammal

1213 Continuing on, and coming to the hawthorn brush, I can hear the insect buzz of a clay-colored sparrow. I also hear the loud hum of real insects, a huge swarm of several kinds of bees visiting the hawthorn flowers. Curiously, none are honey bees, all are indigenous. Given my history with bees and wasps, it is with some paranoia that I crawl into the brush amidst this swarm and retrieve my game cam. And since I'm taking it with me today, I don't bother reviewing the images

From there, I walk down to the river and take a quick dip. The water's really cold still, but it's going to be a hot hike back up to the rim. In the cottonwood canopy above the site where I swim, there are yellow-rumped warblers singing. And below them, there's a robin building her nest

1248 My return hike to the coulee rim is usually fairly uneventful, if I've been diligent in surveying what's new on the way down. So today, I decide to try something new. I pick up a river cobble of maybe ten pounds weight and practice tossing and catching it as I march up the slope. It's good exercise, but I also make sure to keep paying attention. In the end, the only phenological note I have to add, that did not register on the way down, is the presence already of road-duster grasshoppers. Seems to me a bit early for them

Wood Ducks, Wigeons, And Goose Eggs

IIII ) lllllllllllll Iimaohkominniiksiiniiksi (6Apr12)

1520 Sspopiikimi - I just can't stay away. This is my third visit in the last two days, and I'm excited to be here because, with the advent of the full moon following the equinox, the aapsspini are finally laying their eggs

1523 In addition to the advent of goose eggs, there is another event that always coincides with the full moon of Sa'aiki'somm, and that is the return of the male iimaohkominniiksiiniiksi (redwing-blackbirds). Even yesterday, they hadn't arrived yet. But earlier this morning, the wet-meadows were filled with their calls. Right now, with light snow falling, they are quiet again... but they are here

I come in at north-pond. The resident aapsspini and mi'ksikatsi couples are present, but neither has an egg cache yet, so far as I've been able to learn. For the mi'ksikatsi, this is normal. They won't lay their eggs until the leaves are starting to pop. But many of the other aapsspini have begun already. This couple have been coming and going the last couple days. Sometimes they're here on-site, other times they're away feeding (probably on the golf greens). They wouldn't go out of sight if they had eggs

1531 Even though I have no confidence in there being any eggs in the north yet, I think it best to at least check the wet-meadows on this end again. If there is a cache here, these aapsspini are doing a really good job not betraying it

While searching around, I can here the geese over at the big river island. I'm not going to check in on them this afternoon. I waded out and surveyed the whole island thoroughly yesterday. There were three nests already being incubated (the river aapsspini are always a few days ahead of those at the pond), two caches, and several divots prepared to accept eggs very soon. I suspect there will be fifteen or more nests established on this island when all is said and done. But I'll wait another day or so before going back out there

[Note: I returned to the river island the morning after these field notes were taken. At that point, there were four incubating nests, so I'd missed a cache during the first pass. However, one of these incubating nests had been completely ravished by ring-billed gulls. That couple will need to start over. There was also a new egg cache with just a single, exposed egg. I put some leaves over it to conceal it]

Another thing I notice while searching the north wet-meadows is that the big cattail patches are almost entirely out of the water. Last year, I was able to wade through these reeds and collect all the partially-eaten roots the beavers have left behind. This time around, I'll probably get far fewer, relying on those discarded at the pond's edge

1542 Since I'm thinking about it, I move to check the cattails at the pond's bank. There are quite a few roots floating about, as well as stems and shoots. The muskrats are taking advantage of the latter. They've gone around collecting the new green and pulled pieces up on a hummock a little ways out from shore. There are three of them there right now, eating from this collection

1554 My next stop is at the big bulberry brush. Focusing on the aapsspini entirely yesterday and this morning, I'd resisted checking my game cam (this even while registering a constant magpie presence in the brush both times I'd passed). Now I have a bit less of a strict agenda, so I seize the opportunity to crawl in. The camera trap has indeed captured several magpie images. But the most frequent visitor to the brush this week has been the male pheasant. There are two night visits by a porcupine, and a single appearance by a grey partridge (the first to pass my camera in the last year). I've never used the video function on this unit before. Since I know I'll be back around in two days or so, I decide to switch capture modes. There might be more to learn about their interest in this brush from seeing these animals in action

1558 Leaving the brush, I move quickly back down to the waterline at the ksisskstakioyis to check on an egg we saw this morning. It was set on the little island the beavers had made from trenching out in front of their main entrance. For some reason, this particular egg had rolled away from the tiny pile of reed pieces there (which I'm sure is covering a more substantial cache). One of the magpies spied it this morning while we were here, but the gander quickly chased it away. This afternoon, the egg appears to still be outside of the main cache, but unmolested. I'll confirm that it is not cracked when I get around to the west side of the pond and can use my binoculars to see it more clearly

Near to this position are the Gosling Couple, the elder aapsspini of Sspopiikimi, who I will not disturb this afternoon. They have chosen once again to nest on the wet meadows, a habit they got into two years ago when a flood covered the island they normally used. Despite their strong defenses, this puts their nest at considerable risk of coyote predation. I'm almost tempted to come out here in the evenings and help the gander stand sentry for the next month. That's how much I would like to see them succeed. They are getting older though, as far as birds go. They're still very tough, but the age is showing. Yesterday, when I came around, they rushed to defend their cache in the same manner they always have. But this morning, when Mahoney and I checked on them, we found the goose sitting (though not incubating) at the nest site. She had just two eggs, and we were within reach of her before the gander ran over to protect her. This was unusual for this couple, a sluggish response. Right now, the goose is still sitting at the cache, and the gander is eyeballing me closely. She may be egg-bound, given how long she's lingered at the site. I'm not going to walk over to her, best that I keep the scent trails to a minimum

In a strange but possibly related turn, the Subpond Couple have been absent altogether yesterday and today. The Gosling Couple are positioned rather nearer the subpond this year. And given their strength, they may have chased the Subpond geese away. But I suspect it's equally possible the Subpond Couple have chosen to cache their eggs in the nearby hawk nest, as they did two years ago. I will find out soon enough. Incubation, for all of these geese, cannot be more than a week away

1609 The only waterfowl in the subpond this afternoon are a single pair of mi'ksikatsi. Trying not to disturb them, I move on to the duck blind at the wide south pool. Yesterday, there were killdeer here, but this afternoon they're absent. Among those who are here at south-pond, there are twelve pairs of mi'ksikatsi, the single wigeon male (don't see the female today), and three pairs of aapsspini. Two of these goose couples have eggs already - those of the south-pond marsh and big island (both of whom we took from already). The odd ones are the couple claiming the smaller island at the mouth of the south pool. We did not see a cache on their island this morning, but I will glass it again from above when I get around to the west bank

1634 From the duck blind, I follow the levee around the south pool. But rather than continuing straight-away along the west length, I decide to detour off into the brushy coulee draw leading up to the coyote playground. I'm hoping that I will find the magpies nesting up here

It's a steep and arduous climb, bringing out the sweat. And once up on the first good ridge, a cold wind picks up and begins to chill me. There are no magpie nests in this draw that I can see, though it is hard to tell given how thick the brush is. The saskatoon in particular appears almost ready to flower, its buds beginning to separate and show white fuzz. There is one magpie who's come to observe me, flying by at eye level, then settling down on a high lookout branch of one of the cottonwoods below. From my vantage point, I can see most of the trees of the golf course. One, an evergreen, seems to have something nest-like in between its upper branches, but I'll have to hike back down to confirm

1649 The descent is so much easier than the climb, and I scare up a couple grey partridges on the way. In a few minutes, I'm down on the golf greens, dodging a labyrinth of active sprinklers to approach the aforementioned tree. There is indeed a magpie nest in there, and the remains of a second, older one as well. The only thing missing are the birds themselves, but I'll keep an eye on this one

1659 Not far away from the magpie nest tree, along the shale trail of the pond's west length, I check another of the golf course conifers and find a second magpie nest. There are probably thirty such trees planted around the course. Now I wonder how many of them house similar nests. For all I know, even the owls could be here

Turning my attention back to the pond, I confirm that the egg on the small island in front of the ksisskstakioyis is still fully intact. I also see that there are no eggs cached yet on the island at the mouth of the wide south pool. Curiously, the Subpond Couple seem to have returned to their waters. I wonder if perhaps their cache is back up in the hawk nest, as it was two years ago. The Gosling Mama is still sitting right at her nest. She only has two eggs and is not incubating yet, but has been sitting there all the same since this morning. Perhaps she's egg-bound. Or maybe she's trying a different strategy this go'round

1708 I return to my vehicle without further encounters or incidences. The only other thing I notice is that, like with the saskatoon, the cottonwood leaf buds appear ready to open. It's always amazing when the awaited day comes, and there is suddenly a leafy forest canopy

IIII ) llllllllllllllll Wigeons Return (9Apr12)

0853 Sspopiikimi - Heading out this blue-sky morning to do a quick round of the aapsspini nests. Though the air is still cooled from the recent night, it looks like it's going to be nice and warm later. We want to get an early start, before too many recreationally-oriented folks come out

Our first encounter occurs before we even get out of the car. Pulling in, there is a pair of mammia'tsikimiiksi in a small bit of brush along the drive to the parking lot. They have a smallish (by magpie standards) nest here, though I don't know that it is in use

The male aotahkaaokayiiksi are out in full force, scouring the earth alongside the entry trails for whatever insects they can find. We still haven't witnessed the arrival of any females yet, but they can't be too far behind now

Coming into view of north-pond, the resident aapsspini and mi'ksikatsi couples are here, both lingering near the big cattail patch toward midpond. Mi'sohpsski, one of the muskrats, is also present, floating in the middle of the pond, chewing on something he just retrieved from below

0900 Our first objective is to again survey the big river island, so we climb up on the levee and walk around the perimeter of the north wood, toward the river. In the forest canopy, there is some kind of downy woodpecker event underway. Four birds are chasing each other around, chattering. They don't seem to be fighting and, since I know they were here as couples all winter, it makes me wonder whether they practice a kind of 'swinging' mating orgy among the pairs, similar to what the coots do

Given the strength of the Oldman's current, and the fact that I'm the only one of us with chest-waders, Mahoney waits on the shore for me as I set out for the island

0926 Things are not going so well for these river geese. Making a thorough round, I find that only one of the four nests being incubated during my last visit (two days ago) is still holding, and this nest has now just two eggs and an egg-looking rock. The other three nests have been obliterated by the raiding ring-billed gulls who maintain a constant presence here. There is, however, a newly incubating nest. I'm not sure how many eggs are in it, I don't want to disturb the mama today, but it couldn't be more than three based on my last check of her cache. All the same, this particular couple is has always succeeded in warming their eggs to term, owing in large part to the fair aggressiveness of the gander. The toughest pair on the island are at the completely opposite end (probably for good reason), and I have a hard time imagining the gulls will have an easy time accessing their eggs, which are not yet being incubated. In addition, there are two new caches today that weren't here before, and one cache from the other day that's been raided and destroyed. In all three cases, the parents give far too much room to intruders, though bad things can happen to good geese as well. I take one egg from each of the two new caches, and I'll just hope that somehow the gulls miss the rest

It's clear now, looking at what is occurring on the river island, the wet meadows, and two other sites we're visiting for eggs this year, that something is going on this year. I think the most eggs I've seen in a nest over the past week of diligent monitoring is five. Yet five was the average a couple years ago at the same locations, and there were several nests with seven. This year's average, at least so far, seems to be just three or four eggs, and that's pretty low. Of course, we're still early in the game yet. Those couples whose nests were raided already will be going for it a second time, and perhaps then they will lay more

0941 Whatever the downy woodpeckers are up to, it's been going on for half an hour and continues as we again pass the north wood. Now I'm noticing, on the trail past the wood, that there are goldenbean shoots emerging. And walking the levee trail toward south-pond, passing the canopy of the forest main, we see that the cottonwood buds are showing red at their tips. Soon their flowering catkins will be dangling down, and then - if memory serves - we will get our warblers back

1013 When we get to south-pond, we go immediately to the aapsspini nest in the marsh. We collected one from this couple a few days ago. Today we are taking our second, and last. No more than two eggs from a nest, and only prior to incubation, that's our rule

From there, we move to the duck blind to look out at the wide pool. The two island aapsspini couples here are not sitting their nests yet. One of them doesn't even appear to have an egg cache. The duck presence in the pool is considerable this morning. Forty-four mallards and fourteen wigeons. Yep, the wigeons have finally returned. They're late, and I was almost giving up hope that the larger body of them would ever show, given that there has been a single couple here for at least two weeks

Behind the blind, on a snag poplar of the forest main, yet another phenological event is underway. There are three male flickers in the high branches, and they are carrying out their territorial jousting ritual. This involves a special song, tail displays, and touching of the beaks. They will sit quiet together for a few minutes, then break into song and display, perhaps give short chase to one another, and go quiet again. On and on this dance is played until finally one of them has proved the most worthy to claim that location in the forest

1034 Leaving the blind, we make our way toward south pond. No sooner do we near it, still on the forest side, when the gander of the Gosling Couple spots us and flies in to head us off. We are quite a distance from his wife's nest on the wet meadows, which is presently being incubated, but he is going to make us walk way around, giving his well-concealed mrs a fifty meter buffer on all sides. We do as we're told, and are almost at the ksisskstakioyis when Mahoney turns around just in time to see the gander is again bearing down at us, flying at our heads with his mouth open and tongue fiercely displayed. He lands just short of us, and only because I turned to look at him. He's not had a real scuffle with me, and doesn't want to, but he will if I push him. He's beat up Mahoney twice in the past

Though this particular aapsspini gander is known by ourselves and all birds of the pond to be a seriously protective husband, today's display goes even beyond what we're accustomed to with him. I would not want to be the magpie or gull that tries to muck with his wife's eggs. The way he flew at us just now, at such a considerable distance from the nest, he is treating us more like another goose couple, less like passing humans. In other words, he is not only guarding the nest from us, he's not even going to allow us within the nesting territory that he's keeping. If Mahoney had not sensed something, and looked back, and alerted me, he would have landed with considerable force on one of our backs and bit us as well he could

The north end of the gander's territory is defined by a small canal next to the ksisskstakioyis. Once on that side, we are watched, but we are safe. I climb the lodge to look at the island just in front of it. The same egg that was exposed there four days ago remains, and I can't tell whether there are any more cached under the little pile of reeds beside it

We then turn away from the pond and make our way toward the forest again, to the big bulberry patch at the meadow edge-zone. A few days ago, I turned my camera trap there on video mode for the first time, and I'm curious what footage it may have caught. Very interestingly, what I learn is that the magpies here, unlike many others in the region, are still gathering sticks for the first phase of their nest-building. Most of the other mammia'tsikimiiksi are done building at this point, and ready to begin laying eggs. Perhaps the shadow of the coulee that falls over the pond has kept things just cool enough that these birds are getting a later start, similar to the way the geese here are a bit behind those on the river island

1100 Having downloaded the footage from the bulberries - which also included visits from the pheasant rooster, a porcupine, and a deer mouse - we move back to the pond edge again to continue our survey northward

As we get into the cattails, I begin collecting roots that the beavers have dug up, gnawed at, then left floating. I did the same last year in this moon. The ksisskstaki dig hundreds of these roots, and never completely consume a single one. I take their leftovers home, mash them with rocks, douse them in water, and separate out the starchy flour for baking and soup-thickening

When we get to a certain point in the cattails, the north-pond aapaspini couple paddle over to meet us. Finally, they have selected a cache site. They direct us right to it, and we see they don't have any eggs as yet, but the shallow earth bowl is ready to receive them. The site, on a bit of a peninsula formed by mud the ksisskstaki have excavated to build one of their canals, is very wet to the touch, just thoroughly saturated. These geese will have to insulate it pretty good if they hope to have their nest succeed there

1135 With our nest survey complete, and hunger setting in, we're ready to call it a morning. But before we go back to the car, we stop at the extreme north end of the pond, where one of the mature cottonwoods was uprooted over the winter, by flooding related to the nearby horizontal drilling that routed sewage and runoff pipelines under the river. This tree was among the unfortunate sacrifices. It will, however, have one last hurrah as it's catkins open. In all likelihood, it will even seed. But Mahoney and I have been watching the buds with an interest in salvaging them to make what I'm calling a'siitsiksimmisaaam (poplar-medicine, a.k.a. Balm of Gilead)

With how near the buds of some of the trees are to opening, we figure it's now or never to gather what we want to use. So we stop at the tree and prune its sticky treasure for a bit, filling a brown paper lunch sack with enough buds to make about a liter and a half of the balm

IIII ) llllllllllllllllllllllll Wood Ducks In The Wide South Pool (17Apr12)

1715 Sspopiikimi - It's the end of Sa'aiki'somm, and the close of our goose egg harvest. The last we were here at the pond was almost a week ago. On that visit, I deposited nine eggs into incubating nests on the river island, nests I knew to be at the same stage of development as those I collected from. These relocated eggs would have otherwise been dipped in vegetable oil under federal permit to control the aapsspini population at a certain lakeside park in Sikoohkotoki, so that their families wouldn't take too great a toll on the nearby golf greens this summer. It's impossible for me to understand how anyone could excuse 'managing' wildlife in this manner, viewing these birds as 'pests' in need of extermination. To me, this practice seems to fundamentally contradict the very purpose of having a lakeside park or golf course in the first place. Fortunately, those involved are otherwise reasonable, and have been kind enough to allow Mahoney and I to make the best of a bad situation. In addition to the nine incubated eggs relocated, we've taken over a hundred cached eggs from the site, which we will use to feed attendees at our upcoming Beaver Bundle ceremony

1718 Coming within view of midpond, we count three mi'ksikatsi couples, all spaced widely apart from one another. Their nesting is the next to come. In fact, we found our first mallard egg of the year already, earlier this morning, deposited - strangely enough - in an aapsspini cache

From our position, we can also see across to the beaver canal in the cattails, where the northpond goose couple were preparing to nest. Things don't look good over there. The pair is nowhere to be seen, and one of the eggs is laying exposed at the water's edge. It will be interesting to learn how the nests here have fared this week. As is usual during the early incubation, the wolf cap snow storm (makoyisttsomo'ki) arrived. It was pretty tame compared to some years, but still potentially deadly for those who are exposed outside. The diligent mothers lay down on their nests and suffer the wet, sticky snow. But there are always some who abandon

1729 The nest situation doesn't look any better as we make our way along the west length. There's nothing going on any more on the small island outside the ksisskstakioyis, the Gosling Couple seems to have abandoned their nest on the wet-meadows (though they're still keeping near), and the two nest islands of the wide south pool are similarly lacking of incubating mothers. Perhaps the only one left will be in the marsh, we'll see. I suspect a combination of the makoyisttsomo'ki storm, lurking ring-billed gulls and, for the Gosling Couple, land-based predators have done them all in

Of course, there are plenty of magpies around as well, and this evening they're hunting the rocks along our shoreline. I walk down the cutbank to see if I can determine what they're eating, but don't see any particularly obvious insect event underway

While I'm trying to figure out what the magpies are so busy with, all the sa'aiksi of the wide south pool paddle away from me, toward the duck blind. Unlike the mi'ksikatsi at midpond, these couples here are not so widely spaced apart. I also notice at least one pair of wigeons remains. I might have bothered to count them all except that, to our surprise, there's also a wood duck couple among them. I have only seen a wood duck on one other occasion at Sspopiikimi, so it's a special event. They were, no doubt, prompted to land here by the recent storm. And while they could have departed safely by now, it seems they have decided to linger a while

1805 For the next half hour, we try in vain to get a close-up look at the wood ducks. First, we hustle along the levee path toward the forest main, and cut down to the duck blind. But all the sa'aiksi watch us as we move, and simply paddle back across the pool to the west shoreline again. Then Mahoney stays behind while I walk the levee to the other side again, figuring they'd return to below the blind. But they're completely onto our little ruse and decide to waddle ashore on the wet-meadows instead, about halfway between our two positions. Now we're giving up

While all of this is going on, we observe that there's nobody tending the aapsspini nest in the marsh either. This means every couple has failed at the pond. If we are to be graced with goslings this summer, they're either going to come from the river island, or from the second attempt that I'm sure at least some of these pairs will make in the weeks to come

All around us now there are pleasant calls coming from the redwings, flickers, robins, house finches, killdeer and pheasants. Those who've yet to arrive, but are expected by now, are the tree swallows and coots. I wonder what's delaying them

1836 Leaving the blind, we decide to hike out into the wet-meadows to survey the two abandoned nests that don't require wading to access. The first is that of the Gosling Couple, near the subpond. As suspected, it has been destroyed by predators. The downy feathers that had recently lined it are cast off to the side in a heap, and all that remains of the eggs are a few shell fragments

While Mahoney goes to check the situation at the Northpond Couple's nest by the cattails, I climb into the bulberry patch to download video clips off my camera trap. The footage is revealing. Coyotes have visited the wet-meadows several nights in a row this week. In the darkness, not even the Gosling Couple would attempt to fight them off. Indeed, the news from Mahoney of the second nest tells a similar (if not identical) story. The only difference is that, in addition to most of the eggs being missing save for a fragment or two, there's one egg at the water's edge that has obviously been eaten-out by gulls

1850 Having determined, as best we can, what caused the ruin that's occurred here in our absence, we walk north through the forest main and climb out to the cutbank overlooking the big river island. From our shore, only some of the nests are visible, and two of these are the ones into which I deposited eggs last week. Unfortunately, neither has survived. The gulls have got to them, and the aapsspini couples now stand away by twenty meters or so. There are other nests on the island, beyond our view, that might still be incubating. But I don't want to wade out and confirm it. There's been too much disturbance already

Before leaving the cutbank, a kingfisher flies past us, and a beaver swims up to the bank below us to gnaw the bark off a piece of willow. It's depressing to consider all the goslings we might have had at the pond this summer, now gone, and to see all the geese lingering lonely around the failed best sites. This happened last year too, and we ended up with just two families moved over from the river island after hatching. Thinking back though, this has always been the way of things here. Only two or three out of perhaps twenty local nests escape predation, if that

Sa'aiki'somm Begins

II Kaayii (22Mar12)

1130 Sspopiikimi - First visit of Sa'aiki'somm, the Duck Moon. The temperature has dropped again This morning we woke up to snow, but none of it has stuck. Mahoney and I are out to make a round and check on the nesting progress of the aapsspiniiksi

1138 North-pond is a bit more quiet than it has been recently. There are three aapsspini couples here, plus a yearling. There's also two 'pairs' of mi'ksikatsi drakes. I've not really paid attention to the mallards behaving like this in prior years. I'm used to seeing groups of drakes a bit later in the season, but not obvious coupled partnerships like I'm observing now. Everything I've ever witnessed among the mi'ksikatsi leads me to believe they are the most complexly cultured of the ducks

1144 Moving up the levee and out to the river cutbank, we spot only three aapsspini couples out on the big island. It's possible that they're already caching eggs. For some reason I've never sorted out, the geese on the river are always several days or more ahead of those at the neighboring pond. Could be as simple a matter as having more exposure to sunlight. The wide south pool, where most of them nest on the pond, is under coulee shadow most of the day. It makes sense, and yet I don't trust this answer. Each nesting area I follow in the region keeps a predictably different start time, though all are within a matter of weeks of each other

Also at the river is a lone mi'ksikatsi drake, drifting nervously (because of our presence) in the oxbow stream on our side of the big island. We've seen several magpies stopping along the shorelines. All have departed now, and I wasn't able to discriminate whether they were gathering mud for their nest bowls, or picking recently emerged stoneflies off the rocks

1158 Rather than cutting straight into the forest main, as usual, we decide to walk the levee out to the duck blind and wide south pool. Like north-pond, the scene here has changed. Today, there are just two aapsspini couples in the pool, and a third in the subpond. Most of the birds here are mi'ksikatsiiksi... three couples in the pool, one in the subpond, and eight drakes paired off. A male wigeon has finally arrived to join the female who's been here the last week or so. Still no sign of the larger wigeon group who always stopped off in prior years

1211 While we scope out the wide pool, I hear two familiar voices in the air, coming from upstream near the high level bridge. One is that of a raven, who's probably following the train tracks with a partner. The other, a lone ring-billed gull, appears and passes far overhead. This is the first gull I've seen at the pond for this season, and it serves as a reminder to me... if there were egg caches on the big river island, there would be more of these ring-bills around. Like with so many events this winter, I'm early and anxious. It's been so warm, I expect the animals and plants to respond sooner too, but they're not. In the years we've been monitoring, it never fails that Easter (the first full moon after the equinox) is when most of the geese are laying eggs. That's still a couple weeks away

1224 Before leaving the duck blind, we see a group of seven mamia'tsikimiiksi glide down from one of the coulee draws to land on the peninsula. There's something there they're eating, and we'll definitely check it out, but first we want to survey a bit on the wet meadows

By now, the status of the geese is pretty obvious. My biggest question at this point is why there are so few here today. We walk past the subpond couple, just to confirm. They're not leaving, which means the egg caching isn't far away. But they also give us enough distance that it's clear there are no eggs yet

We make our way to the ksisskstakioyis too, and I'm surprised to see the two island couples who've been a constant here the last few visits are absent. They'll return, I'm sure. Probably out feeding on stubble fields  somewhere. Maybe they too recognized that, with the early thaw, they were jumping the gun a bit

1253 We stop by the big bulberry patch on our way off the wet meadows, to change the batteries in my camera trap. Then, as we hike south again through the forest main, the wind kicks up, and snow begins to fall

We continue to the end of the forest, around the south pool, and down onto the peninsula to learn what the magpies have been eating here. It turns out to be a cottontail. Hard to say how it came to be dead here. The front end of the carcass is missing, and if coyotes had caught it they usually eat the back end first. Yet the dead rabbit would be hard to explain otherwise. Perhaps it was victim to a coyote with eclectic tastes

1304 We make our way out along the shale trail of the west length, with increasing wind and snow in our faces. Toward midpond, we notice the mamia'tsikimi group amassed at another position, right beside the trail. This time, when we arrive at the location, it's difficult to tell what they were after. Our suspicion is that they stopped to eat some canine droppings, which says something about the amount of food available right now. These magpies are our final encounter before reaching the car

IIII ) llll Scavenging Water Beetle (28Mar12)

1446 Sspopiikimi - Pulled in about an hour ago, and just wrapped a very quick survey. This morning I woke up in Medicine Hat, having given a presentation for the Grasslands Naturalists last night. After breakfast, I drove straight back to Sikoohkotoki, and felt I needed to stop at the pond before going home. I'm really anxious for the aapsspini nesting to begin, almost paranoid that I'm going to somehow be late for the egg caches, even though I know they're not usually there until the full moon following the equinox. But like an obsessive-compulsive, I have to go look anyway

Thus, over the last hour or so, I've made a thorough search of six definitely goose-claimed nest sites. All the couples are here, some sticking more tightly to their plots than others. None, however, have begun caching. I did not wade out to the big river island, though I was prepared to, because there are still only three couples settled out there, and I expect five-times as many when the eggs are actually being laid

We seem to have our established body of mallards at this point. There are six mi'ksikatsi couples on the pond today (about average for nesters here), plus a few drake partners, and two more breeding pairs near the river island. The single wigeon couple are also still lingering at south pond, but no sign yet of any other waterfowl arrivals, not even mohkammii (the great blue herons) who I saw yesterday at the Fincastle Reservoir rookery

The big phenological events of the day for Sspopiikimi - or the most obvious, given how quickly I made my round - is the presence of kaayiiksi (ring-billed gulls) at the wide south pool, and thousands of tiny scavenging water beetles in the air around north-pond. They're about the same size as a ladybug, but without the bad taste. I know, because the male robins tipped me off to a little puddle where a lot of these beetles were landing, then wading back out to dry their wings, and it made for easy plucking and munching. In addition to the ones I ate on site, I collected about two-dozen for Derrick and Keira (homecoming gifts). I saw these same beetles at Fincastle yesterday, so it's fairly safe to assume they're out in abundance right now all over the region, and definitely around lakes and ponds

IIII ) llllllll Mourning Doves, Tiger Beetles, And Loopers (1Apr12)

1337 Pitsiiksiinaikawaahko - After yesterday's calm summer-like warmth, the temperature dropped and strong winds arrived overnight. These winds have continued into this afternoon, and it's just uncomfortable enough that I almost didn't come out. To avoid some of the struggle, I've parked in the riverbottom downstream from the floodplain I want to survey. As strong as the gusts are down here, they're at least twice as brutal on the coulee rim. I'm not feeling up to the challenge of climbing in these conditions today, but I do want to see what's new out here

1358 Making my way toward the river confluence, I hike along the base of the sandstone cliffs where, not long ago, I'd been surveying the activities of sagebrush voles and western jumping mice. One of the last times I walked this route, on a relatively warm day during the moon Ka'toyi, I'd observed the early emergence of bluebottle flies, and the thin-legged wolf spiders who were hunting them. Both species are still here today, seven weeks or so later, behaving the same as when I'd seen them last, as if not a day had been lost in between

There is a raven flying near-to and following the coulee rim, probably searching for the rock doves who inhabit these cliffs in small numbers. Out on the river, where it bends sharp at the old beaver lodge, there are two ring-billed gulls floating over a shallow gravel bed. I suspect they're looking for crawdads and freshwater clams, though both retreat upstream before I can confirm

1411 When I reach the riverbend and the mouth of the (dry) oxbow, I follow the edge zone between sandbar willows and the sandstone cliff, and here I begin to encounter some of the insects that always emerge during this moon. The first is the black-morph cowpath tiger beetle, who I expect to see mating already. They probably got a start on it yesterday, but today's winds might pose an obstacle. Several of them lift off the ground in retreat as I walk along. Then, closer to where the willows meet the forest treeline, I see my first clover looper moth of the year. In another week or so, they should become abundant

1426 Continuing to follow the oxbow corridor through the forest, I at first hear only the familiar voices of starlings, flickers, and black-capped chickadees. But then a pair of mourning doves appear. They are picking around in the chokecherries. And as I stop to watch them, a mourning cloak butterfly flutters close to my face. I saw my first mourning cloak of the season a couple weeks ago, but that was under different conditions. I had been turning logs on the wet-meadows of Sspopiikimi, and just happened to find one of the butterflies newly transformed. It's antenna weren't even out yet. This one fluttering by today marks the real emergence

1457 The rest of the way through the forest, upstream to the confluence, I'm scanning the trees for this year's owl nest. The resident kakanottsstooki couple has really eluded me this time around, abandoning the old hawk nest by the mid-forest meadow

At one point as I'm walking, I notice that the deer trails have all shifted to the other side of the oxbow corridor. It seems strange, because there aren't any obstacles on my side, like fallen trees or jams of driftlogs. Just as I'm considering this, and still scanning high for owl nests, I catch sight of something below me in my peripheral vision. It's a huge bald-faced hornet nest from last summer, anchored to a small bit of buckbrush, and almost sitting on the ground. This is obviously why the deer chose to go around

Coming to the end of the forest, I climb up through a thick stand of chokecherries, where I know there to be a well-established magpie nest. It's still looking good, but the resident couple are nowhere around, and so I suspect they too have rebuilt elsewhere this year

Not far from the chokecherries is the little strip of hawthorn along a draw where I keep one of my camera traps. It's been about three weeks since I last downloaded images off it, and in that time it's taken about five hundred pictures. The vast majority are nocturnal shots of cottontails and deer mice, but there are also some daytime images of coyotes, magpies, pheasants and robins. Nobody unexpected. I've kept a camera at this location for almost a year now. It may be time to think about moving it to a completely new site... perhaps even across the river, to the older forests less accessible to recreational hikers

1543 Just before crawling back out of the hawthorns, I'm visited by an insect I did not expect to see. It's a new one for me, tiny, delicate, mantis-like, and orange... a damsel bug [according to my research later in the evening]

Then I make my return journey through the forest, this time taking an alternate route nearer the river proper, and again scanning the trees for owl nests. I don't find any. However, the walk is not without its rewards. At one point, I come upon a juvenile bald eagle, perched in one of the cottonwoods overlooking the willows and river. And just beyond the eagle, there are two porcupines, both sleeping soundly in the branches of the forest canopy

1601 The river itself is a bit more exciting on my return along the sandstone cliffs. When I initially arrive, I can hear the calls of soyottakska, a killdeer, on the wide gravel bar of the opposite shore. This is the first to return to either of my sites for the season. There's a pair of geese on that other shore as well, a bit downstream. And further beyond them, a lone miisa'ai drake

There's also forest on the opposite bank from the cliffs, and as I walk along I glass the trees for nests. There is one large nest that would be perfect for the kakanottsstookiiksi, but they're not there. While I'm conducting this survey, gliding along the coulee rim just above me (and making an extra pass to see what I'm about) is a gorgeous redtail hawk

1632 Finally I arrive back at my vehicle. Just as I'm loading my pack into the truck, and preparing to climb behind the wheel myself, I could swear I hear the songs of a meadowlark. Others have already spotted the first meadowlarks of the season at their sites, but not me. I start up the car and drive out of the coulee, then follow a fenceline along the rim in search of the song's source, but no luck. Could be the bird was down a bit lower on some skunkbrush. Oh well, something to look forward to for my next visit