Mud Bay, in normal BC weather

It had rained hard all the way to Mud Bay Park, but when we got to the parking lot, it had slacked off to a gentle drizzle. We bundled up; I dug an emergency plastic cape out of my bag. (One of those $1 things; awkward and fragile, but it did keep the wind and rain off.) Laurie decided his jacket was waterproof enough; he didn't want to be hampered by flapping plastic. At least he took the big umbrella to keep his camera dry. (Dryish, anyhow; I carried a soft rag and dried it off for him a couple of times.) I had the small umbrella, since I was swathed in plastic.

Umbrellas are stubborn, persnickety things, especially if you need them. How do you hold a camera, manipulate its controls through plastic, and hold a bucking umbrella at the same time? I shoved the handle down my back, inside the jacket. Didn't work; dumped water on my nose. I need three hands.

We walked past the fields to the dike, then along the top of the dike to the other side of the railroad bridge, where the sandpipers hang out. It was wet going; the rain had intensified again.

Mud Bay as Laurie saw it.

Laurie, as I saw him.

Mud Bay, with heron. The mist hides the hills on the far side.

The view was amazing, with a magic I'd never seen here before. The water seemed to go on forever, until it blended into the grey sky; distant trees and hills were mere ghosts in the mist. Everything looked soft, even the dead weeds and the jagged rocks.

Farmlands and the hills of North Delta behind them.

A heron, shaking the water off his wings.

The second heron, posed on a mud spit.

When we got too close, he moved to the railroad bridge.

Wet tracks. The train crosses to Crescent Beach here, on its way down to the US.

We were fascinated by the weeds; with summer past, the colours are dying. Browns predominate. The rain highlighted their architecture, something we usually pass over without seeing.

Tansy, with brown flower heads.

Unidentified weed.

Bejewelled stems.

Hurrying now because someone had turned on the taps overhead full strength, we headed down the trail towards the parking lot. But we stopped to look at the scat, and I scanned the field for birds; we often see hawks here, on both sides of the path. But now, nothing moved. We went on.

Hunting ground. Plenty of small birds and rodents, and a few scrumptious rabbits.

A bit of that hunting ground, up close. It's holding hundreds of water droplets.

Lupins, still green.

Goldenrod in a sheltered spot. Still yellow, but bowed down by the weight of water.

Tansy buttons.

On the way home, with the heater blasting out warm air, and Laurie complaining about wet pants, we passed a flock of starlings, several hundreds strong, blowing from tree to wires to field to fence and back again. Laurie stuck the camera out the window and took photos; photos of starlings through raindrops on the lens.

I got this one through the windshield.

This was fun! Gotta do it again some time. With proper rain gear, maybe.

A Skywatch post.
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Scat! And guts!

Warning: if you are easily grossed out, if scenes of death and slaughter disturb you, click on past this post. Come back tomorrow; I'll have more pleasant subject matter.

It rained all afternoon, a steady drizzle. It wasn't too cold, though, so we bundled up and went for a walk along the Mud Bay dike.

The trail from the parking lot to the dike runs beside a field of tall grasses where we have often seen hawks hunting. Along this trail, we found several lots of scat, full of feathers.

Still with me? Good. Can you identify these samples? What bird or animal left them?

I think this first one may be an owl's pellets. There were several little piles like these; somebody's been having quite a feast. The shaft of a large feather down in the lower left pile was about two inches long.

What bird was the prey? See the entire feathers on the upper right. Sparrow colour, maybe a bit too big for a sparrow, though.

The next pile is about the same size, but the stuff was softer-looking. (I didn't touch it to confirm.) It looked like it had been sitting in the rain for a longer time. There were still feather shafts in it, but also blobs which reminded me of intestines.

I think it just might be a coyote or a fox, and the meal was a larger bird, judging by the feather shafts.

What do you think?
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Home of the green bear

Have I never blogged about Bear Creek Park? I find that incredible, but I have searched my posts, Googled them; nary a mention. I wrote, in May of 2008, about the owlets we found there, without naming the park. I will have to remedy that.

We pass the park several times a month, on our way to Central City mall. Sometimes, if the weather is right, we drop in for a look at the gardens; the flowers are always beautiful and there is a creek with ducks and dragonflies, a train full of kids in season, a skeleton of a wedding chapel. The lawns are wide, ringed with tall trees. A peaceful interlude before we brave the traffic and parking lot insanity at the mall.

Now, at the end of October, most of the flowers have disappeared. The grass is sopping wet, the creek bedraggled and choked with fallen leaves. The big leaves of the Gunnera are half rotten. The wisterias draped over the arbour and gate are just a tangled mass of brown stems.

I find it more beautiful, even, than in its summer glory.

A tree-full of red.

Sleek crow.

A sprinkling of little mushrooms.

High overhead, dried oak leaves and acorns.

A big wasps' nest, probably abandoned now that the nights are cold.

Hybrid mallard/??. Look at those pretty feathers on the wing! (Click for full size.)

Spiky needles on a pine.

Begging for peanuts. Sorry, I had empty pockets.

A few flowers still bloom.

And a new resident; the green bear!

We passed a few gardeners laying out bulbs for spring flowers, several wheelbarrows full, even after a couple of large beds were set out. I asked about squirrel damage; at home, every year the squirrels have dug up and eaten most of my crocuses and daffodils. The gardener explained their system: the bulbs are laid out, then about four inches of topsoil go on top. After that, bloodmeal, which the squirrels hate. Then another three inches of compost, and another layer of bloodmeal. Sometimes they add a sheet of wire netting on top.

Next time I'm at the garden supply, I'll get more bulbs. And bloodmeal.
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A shameful failure at hospitality

Often I go looking for critters; sometimes they come to me. This week, I've had a half-dozen visitors show up at my door or on my wall. Helpful! Saved me grubbing around in the cold and damp.

An Indian Meal moth, Plodia interpunctella. Fed to the Venus fly-trap.

I've had a bit of an infestation of these. I didn't know how they got here until this next one showed up:

Larva of the Indian Meal moth. Found near the bag of Black Oil sunflower seeds I keep for the chickadees. Now in bug jail.

Then there was this fat little carpet beetle larva:

Upside-down and struggling to roll over. The pink is shreds of a wool blanket that provides warmth and food.

Flipped! Now trying for an escape. Didn't make it; he's back keeping an older one company in my carpet beetle house.

This pretty moth was outside the door, slowly freezing to death. I put him in the fridge.

Unidentified moth, possibly a litter moth.

It has a long "snout", up-turned, and ending in two "teeth". It flew away before I could get a better photo. Maybe later.

At least it's warm, finally. It's resting on my ceiling, above the computer.

And the last; just another weevil.

Upside-down, playing dead. Weevils do this; it's very handy for taking photos.

Right-side up, still playing dead.

Poor old weevil is now sharing a bottle with my Venus fly-trap. I feel vaguely guilty.

The sixth, to make up the half-dozen, didn't get photographed. It's a nice little spider, now living under the stove. I'm hoping she will keep her eyes out for more of those tasty meal moths.
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Hermit Rex goes shopping

A couple of days ago, I posted a photo of one of my hermit crabs in a broken shell. I gave her a replacement; a few shells just a bit bigger. She is now sporting a nice striped outfit.

Looking over the other hermits, I realized that at least one was in a shell a couple of sizes too small. I dug out a handful of larger shells, made sure they were clean and empty, and dropped them in the tank.

Big hermit (we'll call him Rex) crammed into a suit he's grown out of.

Biggest of the selection offered. About twice the length, three times the thickness of what he's wearing.

Yesterday morning I noticed him again. Couldn't miss him; he was now carting around the biggest shell. And it didn't really fit, either. Too big, by far; he looked awkward, struggling over the rocks with this weight trailing behind.

Later on in the morning, I happened to glance into the tank. Rex was up beside the glass, looking over a smaller shell, in the same stripy pattern as his old outfit. (Not the same one, though; the first hermit is wearing it now. It fits her beautifully.)

Rex was rolling the striped shell over and over. Then, he poked his claws into the hole, both claws, as far in as he could reach. Rolled it again, checked out the inside again. Too late, I realized what he was doing and ran for the camera in the next room.

I missed it! He was inside that shell already. The big one lay discarded on the sand. Trouble was, the new shell, while a bit bigger, was still too small.

The time was 11:33:51. I was still watching, thirty seconds later, when he discovered another shell, of a different shape altogether. And here's what ensued. (The photos are blurry, because he chose an area where algae have populated the glass.)

"Look what I found!" 11:34:35

"Hmmm ... Nobody home." 11:34:42

"Empty all the way down." 11:34:47

"Looks wide enough." 11:34:55

"Let's see the back." 11:35:16

"I'll try it on." 11:35:35

Look carefully; you can see his red-brown hindquarters behind the striped shirt, wriggling out of the small shell. After this, there was a sudden convulsion. I took a photo that turned out just a blurry mass of brown, then ...

"Ah! Feels comfortable!" 11:36:15

"I'll take it." 11:36:31

And off he went, leaving behind the third outfit.

Total time elapsed for the entire "purchase": under two minutes. I checked back later in the evening. He is still wearing the elegant white suit.

"Suits me, doesn't it?"

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