Shivery

The moon was fat and round, a searchlight riding high in the sky, too high to make its accustomed path across the strait; the water, instead, gleamed faintly shore to shore.

On my way home from an evening with friends, I stopped to get a better look. I got out and crunched across a lawn that's usually wet enough for my shoes to sink into the mud underneath, where now I could walk a foot above the tips of the grass blades. When my way was blocked by icy, snow-covered logs, I stopped and pulled the little camera out of the pocket where it was keeping warm.

I tried to focus on the moon. No good; I was shivering too much to keep it in the viewfinder. I leaned on one of the tall chainsaw carvings Campbell River residents leave dotted over the landscape, using it as a tripod of sorts. The moon still danced.

Aiming away from the moon itself, the viewfinder and screen were completely black. I hugged the carving and took photos, anyhow; Photoshop does wonders in finding light where none was visible.

Logs under snow, and the lights of a resort on Quadra Island. And moonlight.

Back at the car, with the heater going, I was still shivering. The steering wheel served as my tripod substitute this time, as I focused on the garish lights of the hotel across the highway.

The lights look better without the hotel. Photo as taken; no Photoshopping.

'nuff silliness. I'll be sensible tomorrow, once my brain thaws.

Brrrrrrds!

In the last two days, the temperature here has plummeted, far enough to match what I usually expected up north, in Bella Coola. At the moment, in Vancouver, it is down to -8° C. (Fahrenheit = 17.6°), with a strong, chilly wind blowing so that it feels like -13.

(For comparison, over the last 30 years, the average November temperature has been 7.1 C., or 19.5 F. The lowest on record in that time was back in 1985, at 9.9 C (14 F.). Not too much lower than tonight.

My poor birds! It's not so much the cold, but the abrupt change. One day, they're bouncing around, picking up bugs and taking baths; the next, their water has turned solid, and the bugs are gone. And they are shivering and hungry! I made sure they had a variety of seeds and suet all day, but by afternoon, I was running out. I went down to the store for more, and there wasn't a bag of seed or a block of suet to be had. I'm glad. It means many people are paying attention, doing their bit to keep the birds alive.

I finally found a small package of "gourmet" seed mix; it will do for a couple of days. And I think I'll make up a batch of Zick dough.

If all goes well, and they found a warmish place to sleep, these birds will all be back in a few hours:

Junco de-husking a seed.

A different junco, with my stone angel.

Blurry Varied thrush. Very shy; I don't dare go near the door, even, to take its photo. And it stays under the hedge, in the shade. I put plenty of seed there for the timid ones.

Towhee under the hedge

Cold metal, cold feet!

Chickadee and black oil sunflower seed. And house finch, waiting his turn.

Chilly house finch.

Another junco, scratching at the snow on top of the hedge, tossing it for seeds.

A few sparrows showed up, and three fat squirrels. (They're regulars.) I kept watching for the flicker that has been dropping in, but didn't see him, nor the Steller's Jay. I hope they found food somewhere else.

Misery, not loving company.

I'm down with the obligatory winter cold, headachy and shivery and generally grumpy. So is Laurie. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll go mope in a corner until I can stop sneezing all over my screen.

Half-frozen moth. At least he's not sniffling.