Crisp sun shines through the living room windows, dogs laze with their black coats absorbing the days gift, an earlier walk evidenced a seemingly healthy greenish brine on the top edge of the dike, stone pavers heating proximities doing the same, at thirty four degrees water flow in the guttering is brisk and resounding as the roof-top snow vaporizes into the March sky, and most notably, slowly, a key to confidence that the first weeks of April will be uneventful, and the Red will remain sober for yet another year.

I am watching the ice start its dance on the river’s surface marking the inevitable demise of moderate temperatures. I worry that as many as 90 days could pass without temperatures above zero (Fahrenheit) which requires attention to infrastructure. Fortunately many of the birds will remain for the duration, in particular Paul, who chips and chops daily, enjoying the regular suet that he has grown accustomed. Meanwhile, migration south continues.

View image (2006)

Seeking food, comfort, recognition, solitude, and for reasons which are inherent.
Do I speak of American citizens? Russian or Chinese? Pileated, Downy, or any of the wide asunder of wild finches?
For humans, multi-decade-al bands represent the average span of function, with five being the norm.
The flight of the emotional-less shanghai pedaling has prompted a new recognition of intonation, challenge, and balance.

Bipedal, warm-blooded, oviparous vertebrate animals characterized primarily by feathers, forelimbs modified as wings, and (in most) hollow bones. (wiki) Not meant to be gilded, built to fly freely, food seeking, functional, and sensitive.
A cat, feathers ruffled, most get away, while some are ingested. Domestic wildness, tree clingers not moved by our presence, suspected sustenance remained the priority. Berries chewed from downed trees branches offer a backdrop of activity and comfort.
The house is heated but not repaired.

Although near-distant storms and tornadoes helped a recent trend of greening grass, the season for growing is near its end. Instead, each blade works to store energy for next year, and I expect only one more cutting. The bees continue their mania for nectar, as does a hummingbird near the finch tubes that have been increasing in popularity. The squirrels remain busy as this is the year that the aggressive seeding burr oaks attempt to increase their numbers. I expect it will not be long before the raccoons claw their way up the corner burr, and begin their several week vacuum of the roof-laden acorns. Two years ago I toyed with keeping them away, but this year, we might instead enjoy the visits. Besides, they entertain Stella and Ruthie into the night. I hung another peanut tube and enjoy more frequent visits from the hairy and downy woodpeckers.

Reference

Limited rain, brown very dry grass, trees beginning to stress, yet after nearly one month without a need to cut grass, a thunderous rain storm is passing through the area.
The Horse Park opened today.

Hot sun shine is a most welcome luxury. Short haired black jacketed basenjis agree. The removal of one very large burr oak has opened the skies both for the morning sun, and for the evening stars. Surrounding trees provide border, and shorter days will allow earlier stars. A long pontoon ride on the Red would be delightful. Dropping a line to snag a few cats is also needed.

The sun-green trees have filled nicely, my Mhd neighbors are active, I am now several grass cuttings into the summer, annoying bugs have yet to evidence themselves, and the temperature soared on Memorial Day making for a hot and cleansing baking.
I enjoy the new sky from the deck throughout the day, the 150 year tree removed to provide for the levee retrofit. The low branch cleanings also have enhanced the property. Her exit was fascinating, leaving me much to burn for next season.
Woody showed up two weeks ago early, I, under-dressed, grabbed my varmint pistol and jotted outside, he stayed from its cross hairs. He has not been seen again. His lower berth has not been utilized this season.
The Evinrude started perfectly yesterday for a trip up to Convent Bridge and back, the river was at 18.5′ or so, with a moderately high current. That, along with, Andrew’s weight as compared to Gail’s, may of prompted running out of gas, but some paddling was nice.
Hendrum has wickedly high grass now and I without a good method to transport the Snapper. I hope to sort that out soon. It may be that she was bought.
The bambies are clean and glow tan-brown, as opposed to the dark winter coat. Stella was excited by two tonight.
The turkeys remain, as do the Hairy’s, a few lemon birds (as doodle refers to them) visits regularly.
The sun sets so wonderfully late in the Hinterland.

The month started wet due to a rapid snow melt which surged the Red to a near record high (37.2 ft, 20.2 ft above flood stage). The event was spectacular. A community army loaded and hauled bags to the dike, some 800 40 pound bags were eventually deployed to restrict water from the basement.
Predictions for crest heights continued. Three days before, a new higher crest was predicted, more stress and worry for my first protective dike. At crest, water streamed under the bags, across the black plastic tarp laid as base, and down the tiered wooden trestles that makes the dike. An blessed 80 gallon per minute sewage pump groaned below in full control. A nearby second provided backup security but was not needed at the time.
We walked the dike all of Sunday night, as the temperature dropped to near freezing. An orchestra of chippering pumps cycled, removing the ground water which was pooling from the stressed dike. On occasion one of us would grab a shovel and scratch a new mud trough to direct the water to a pool.
On Monday near 4 p.m. the crest was reached. The water began to drop, all so slow, as was the case with its rise over the past day, the final heights occur so very slowly, but my optimism began to stir.
Below the three feet of sand bag and plastic liner is the earthen dike, built to protect the river home from what was becoming a more common occurrence – flooding beyond experience. Thwarting the walkout, it was build some 20 years . The earth and rooted grass is robust to temporary flow, but the 20,000 cubic foot per second flow rate was particularly powerful and potentially destructive. The last two feet of water remained for nearly one week; any vulnerabilities would surely be exposed in the extended period, and then the breach…
Embraced optimism allowed me an opportunity to check in with work. My family was encouraging sleep and my intent was to honor their request, but a quick email check would allow a gauge for the length of my dormancy. A quick check from my office window had me in my boots, dawned jacket running out the front house door declaring the dike had breached.
Bag after bag was peeled from a high point filling the burbling water on a mid point of the dike. Three of us fought, other watched, the water swelled. We err’d in attacking the symptom, not the disease, it beat us.
After the breach, the water level equilibrium with near 6 feet of water in the basement in a matter of minutes. The door blew open at the 1.5 foot mark under the excessive pressure of the rising water; a closed deadbolt ripped from the door jam releasing a great deal of pressure that was on foundation wall. Water filled, the electric panel buried, the heating system buried, all remaining contents soaked in river water, some of which were floating.
For two days the water remained, freshly thawed, not far from its 4 degree base. On Thursday afternoon the water dropped to below the lip of the breach, and the pumps turned on using temporary power provided by the city. By the end of Friday, I could walk in the basement to inspect the damage while the wood ducks were swimming in my back yard.
Today, like yesterday, it rains…

The river and its thawing skin is rising and spilling onto the banks. A warm wind blows from the south convecting away the balance of the deep white slaw. In response to our late night presence, a beaver kerplunks and splashing into the dark, upstream, signaling open water. From white cold to sloppy brown, the Red River of the North is soon canoe navigable once again.

Chips, piled high, fresh inner’ds of an ash, lay exposed as the snow melts. Looking up, several canyons were formed in the middle section, evidence of my pileated friend’s work.
Other deep scratchings nearby, but at the base, of sometimes large diameter trees, the beaver’s goal: to fell and obstruct the creek called the Red, ambition or just a product of their inner programming? To chew, to fall, to cycle…
My nemesis is finding it difficult to decide on when to exit his winter burrow, having no low hanging fruit, greenery, or other shrubbery for his appetite. Last year he was effective on my tomato plant starts, this year I will know better. If possible, I’ll be lassoing that varmint before our dike disintegrates.
Allowing those masked as a utility to remain will eventually prove futile, and if capacity is already diminished, deathly.

The wood chuck woke from his slumber, pondered deeply whether awake, peered from his new exit, on a compressed snow covered dike. The crows have also been conspicuously aware, and my finches have been fewer. The grey squirrels continue to jump from the burr oak several feet onto the suspended seed baskets.
The girls and I walked, them without sweaters, down to the river this morning before 7 a.m. – they pulled heartily, remembering that near one of the two baskets was bread chunks, left for squirrels. The warm weather yesterday iced the surface where it would support their 20, 23 lb bodies, but mine, with my knee high sorels, sank with a snap, in places, the snow remained knee high.
The length of each days grows by over 3 minutes, today rising at 6:51 and setting at 6:24 pm (CST), progressing towards the June 21 crescendo. In addition to the wildlife in Moorhead, the length of the day is among the most significant reasons for living in the Hinterland.
This morning, in particular, despite the crows, and limited finches, a bald eagle swooned down upon us as we reached the fringe of our property.

The air is wet, the snow is compressing to a more shallow depth The predictions for trauma have subsided by twenty percent in some areas along the valley, yet there is a high likelihood of 30 feet before the end of May. Deepening and straightening the Red would allow for an increase of capacity. Those areas where the bows were eliminated would then become wet land, calculated as new, also providing as a drainage buffer, absorbing the shocks of magnanimous rains, silt erosion, untenable land use philosophies, and fast drainage associated with urban development. The added biodiversity would contribute to an oasis of plant, bird, and animals. Moose may find the tender wetland buds as tempting. Eagle, already on the rise may find additional comfort as would Canadian Geese, pileated woodpecker, and crane. Lightmatter

Two cars down, brushes and drop-outs, prompting welcome dialogue, for the eighty mile one way trip.
Early this morning, before a significant melt was realized, were noticed, a congregation of geese. The flock clustered, near a beet pond in north Moorhead, a spot returned to annually; several hundred, but today, the last of February, prompting my surprise.
Four days earlier we saw extreme temperatures, severe, these birds, selecting to live in that environment seems unlikely, this must of been their first day back. A welcome sign of spring to come.
Navigating the springtime requires presence, sensitivity, and tenacity.

Mounds of snow falling, large flakes, blowing through the leave-less trees, at times, nearly horizontally. Snow piles, then melts, but when? For us, in the Hinterland, the ground has been swallowed by snow since October. However, our many birds remain as cheery customers.

The dance was enjoyed, as was the lobster bisque. Wet snow fell much of the day, hampering vision of the river – my swarm of yellow birds descended early to harvest the thistle, from eaves on the house, a sheltered feed zone with consistent supply. A birch fire warmed the room. Doodle and Boo stay nearby. Gray squirrels were dissuaded with high speed steel pellets; although reds are as common, grays are edible.

View image
Resource
Toyota Corollas are subject to rust.

Snow on ice on snow on ice on snow form the foundation of my trail. Winter blows across the oxbows, filling in my path, as though they have never been traced, unless your eye is discerning. The crisp sun shown down to illuminate my history. I found, however, that in places the snow would not give, and my skis would only skim the surface.
When numerous large claw prints were discovered, I imagined hawks at first. Instead, a flock of turkeys stand dormant across the open field, collecting sunlight on their dark feathers, bundled together they find me of no real interest, as I continue to skate along the layers of white.
Each year the snow lays over the valley. Each year it melts. In that time many have discovered life, while others discover death. Like the seasons, we cycle.
What do we do when seasons pass before a love is discovered gone?

Where are the finches? The restaurant is open. Thistle tubes hang from the eves of our modern ranch home whose orientation is maximized for the mid-winter sun. Windows peering over a creek sized river known as the Red, where cat and walleye are known to be caught in its turbid waters.
A Pileated woodpecker was, however a regular visitor due to the water saturated spindles which adorn the area. Squirrels, both gray and red run the spaghetti junctions. Deer regularly graze.
Oil sunflower seeds in a basket hang from a high branch tethered by a cloth rope. Hairy Woodpeckers discovered the Felled by a crafty squirrel, replaced by a 25 foot dog chain.
Oil seed, woodpecker, chickadee, nuthatch, and then, golden finch, american.
The yard is now busy.