Blue Moon Weekend

Sky and Telescope asks, "When is the Moon 'blue,' in a calendrical sense? According to the Maine almanac, a Blue Moon occurs when a season has four full Moons, rather than the usual three. This type of Blue Moon is found only in February, May, August, and November, one month before the next equinox or solstice. According to modern folklore, a Blue Moon is the second full Moon in a calendar month. This type of Blue Moon can occur in any month but February, which is always shorter than the time between successive full Moons.  

I ask; "When is a Blue Moon drinkable?" Regardless of the real reason for calling a moon "blue," modern marketing rules:  Just make sure to drink a Blue Moon beer, under a Blue Moon.  We did.

It was Labor Day weekend 2012 and time to head "up the 43" to the north, for a late-summer camping trip.   The destination was Kohler/Andrae State Park.  I had fortuitously somehow found an electric site (only about a month prior) on Reserve America that had been released by whomever had earlier planned to use it.  Barbara and I loaded up the WPT with all our various sundry camping items,  the Canoe-dle and our bicycles for a three-day (roughing-it) relaxation period.   Our site was high on a rolling pine needle-covered hill of pure Wisconsin sand.  Tall, straight, mature White pines were all lined up in rows throughout our site; making it handy to tie ropes with fiberglass tarps in various places.  There was a small threat of inclement weather that never happened, but the tarps overhead did provide some welcome shade for our Cabela's brand, Zero-gravity chairs.

When I camp, I also bring along some bird seed.  I have seen some of the greatest birds right in the campsite - so I always want to put out a small offering, just in case.  This time it was a blend of seed that I found on clearance at Puhl's hardware in Wauwatosa for $ 2.99.  It wasn't my first choice, but I've been under a bit of a tight budget for obvious reasons.  Cheaper seed blends like this one contain far more milo (grain sorghum) fillers, cracked corn and far less sunflower seed than more expensive brands but what the heck; it was all I had.  I sprinkled a small pile at the base of several of the pines.  I thought that the millet and milo might attract sparrows and juncos (which it did) but never did I expect the absolute flurry of "other" activity that the small amount of black-oil sunflower seeds delivered.

Barbara and I sat drinking our vintage (E bay) Coleman stove-perked coffee and were treated to the most Red-breasted nuthatches I had ever seen in one place, at one time!  In one would fly, and land on a tree trunk near the ground.  It would chatter some kind of greeting, or warning, or whatever and then drop to the pile of seed below it.  The small reddish brown, black and white bird would stir its longish beak in the pile and come up with a sunflower seed and take off to a nearby tree.  The tiny birds would not even eat the seeds they took; instead, they found some crevice or fold in the pine bark and (with amazing speed and accuracy) pounded in the seed - leaving it behind as they flew in for another.  This cycle was repeated over and over again as the two of us sat watching, and listening to the chittering.  Occasionally a Black-capped chickadee would get too near this shuttling activity and be scolded soundly for its proximity, but these little dynamos were equal opportunity complainers - they would dive-bomb the larger White-breasted nuthatches too with equanimity.

With their strong toes and claws and unique ability to "run" over tree bark in any direction; they would even first deftly pound a small divot into the bark, before depositing their seed.  Red-breasted nuthatches form monogamous pairs. They usually excavate their own nest-cavities in a rotten snag, often aspen, and require fairly soft wood to excavate. They will occasionally use a natural cavity, old woodpecker hole, or artificial nest box. Both members of the nuthatch pair create the nest hole, and the female actually builds the nest inside. Their nest is a soft cup of grass, needles, bark fibers, moss, feathers, and hair. Both sexes coat the inside and outside of the nest hole entrance with pine pitch that may help keep predators and competitors away. They sometimes use a piece of bark as a tool to transport the pitch to the nest, and then smear it on the entrance hole. They avoid the pitch by flying straight into the hole. The female incubates 5 to 8 eggs for 12 to 13 days. Both parents feed the young for 18 to 21 days on the nest, and for about two more weeks after they have fledged.

The entertaining feathered activity around the campsite continued off and on throughout the entire glorious day.  A crazy looking Northern cardinal with most of its head feathers missing would show up and take a few seeds, along with a (quite normal-looking) female.  Barbara and I speculated aloud as to that peculiar relationship.  Perhaps it was some sort of Phantom of the Avian Opera attraction?  A thirteen-lined ground squirrel ran in fast and low to the ground filling up its cheek pouch several times; taking the moist oral stash back to its burrow about 15 yards away.  Chipping sparrows and the occasional junco would join the others, but weren't interested in the sunflower seed like the nuthatches were.  The sun continued to shine through the pines and kept the air at a perfect temperature as we sat and relaxed; watching the free nature show.  An Eastern towhee crept out of the leaf litter it had been foraging through to investigate the seed piles, but didn't stay long before retreating once more to the security of the underbrush.

Later that evening as our (Emerald ash borer-free) fire crackled and cast its warmth in the direction of our chairs; we both unscrewed icy-cold bottles of Blue Moon as we watched the uniquely glowing orb rising above Lake Michigan, peeking through the dark pines.  Lifting them to our lips, we thanked God for the chance to be there in the first place, and for the glory of His creation that surrounded us.  

Yes, life is good....VERY good indeed.

The Mighty Mississippi chronicles

In this edition of Birdstud’s Birdchat, we’ll be focusing on the birds of the Mississippi Flyway at Mid-August reverse-migration point of the year.  We’ll also delve into some more small-town American (Wisconsin-style) moments as we do. 

The trip from Milwaukee to Grant County, WI is about 3-1/2 hours at the maximum posted speed limits.  I have found that I drive at the limits (watching everyone, and I mean everyone pass me up), because I am older, wiser and don’t want to have constant stress while I drive.  You might imagine that I (driving the speed limit) might frustrate other zooming motorists who encounter me on the road, feeling the need for speed as they blast past, and you’d probably be correct.  My response would have to be, “so what?”  If you are one of these types of drivers; you get what you deserve in the racking up of multiple moving violations, dealing with fender benders, and the incredible non-stop mental angst you put yourself through.  But then, I digress…

Our target for the weekend was indeed an incredibly wide and serene section of the Mississippi River adjacent to the US Army Corps ofEngineer’s Grant River Campground, but there were also a few other stops we planned to make in the area before the weekend was over.  Long ago glaciers advanced and retreated across Wisconsin, with the last retreat about 12,500 years ago. The southwestern corner however, was untouched and is known as the "driftless" area or Paleozoic Plateau.  It is a land of deep valleys, ridges, and bluffs never leveled by the glaciers.  The campground (off Hwy 133) is nestled between a vast stretch of the big river and the tiny “Catfish Capital of Wisconsin”; Potosi.  Nicholas Perrot discovered southwestern Wisconsin's first lead mine in what is now Potosi.  By 1850, the area embraced more than 10,000 hand-dug lead mines, supplying more than half of the nation's supply.  Mississippi riverboats carried Wisconsin lead throughout the nation.  The region produced virtually all of the lead shot for the Northern forces during the Civil War.  One more interesting feature that we soon discovered was also in between the river and Potosi, were two long shiny railroad tracks running right next to the tent campsite I had booked unseen on the Internet.

The 56 other reservable electric sites were all in use with large and impressive (hard-sided) RV units.  We later learned that a strong contingent of Good Sam campers from neighboring Iowa had all decided that this weekend was their chance to get together in Wisconsin.  They were incredibly organized and had a multitude of activities planned all weekend for their (mostly) aged members to enjoy.  One such delightful couple was Bob and Kathy Michael, (from Dubuque) who took up residence adjacent to our track-side site in their (home away from home) pull-behind “hybrid” camper.  At one point Kathy brought over to share; the most wonderful homemade molasses cookies I had ever eaten.  Once our site was set - complete with tent and sleeping gear and the majority of other (brought-along) items were in place; we motored off to nearby Lancaster, WI and the Grant County Fair.

The fair was located off a non-descript side road from the main highway that split the town of Lancaster.  We only found it because I am unopposed to asking directions.  I had driven about as far in and out of the town as I dared without seeing the fairgrounds when (at the northern edge of the city) I spotted a large Pamida (next to Gassers True Value hardware – imagine the sad and endless childhood taunting of the little Gassers in elementary school).  I drove up to an elderly man, circling his pick-up truck in the parking lot on foot.  He was wearing a GB Packers shirt and using a cell phone.  The two even older white-haired female passengers in his vehicle quickly deferred to his cartographic prowess when we asked where the fair could be located.   He came around to my side of the car and said the following, “you know back the way ya came, where the road kinda’ dips down…you know, then where the road takes a jog…well, the road you want is right there across from the library.”  Barbara and I smiled at each other and bid him and his equally smiling passenger’s goodbye, and headed off to the only landmark in his rambling directions that made us certain we’d eventually find it – the library.

After the car was parked in the field earmarked with a hand-painted sign indicating which aisle we had self-parked into, we walked past the wooden sandwich board indicating that an “adult season pass” to the fair was seven dollars.  We then halted our advance opposite two elderly VFW-garbed men with a huge roll of entry tickets.  “Day or season?” enquired the nearest one, extending the ticket roll.  Since I could find no handy reference whatsoever to any other admission choice or price, I opted for two “season” passes, citing the (what the heck, slim to none) possibility that “we could come back on another day.”  The surrounding grounds were filled with smiling adults, children and entire families as we worked our way around the perimeter of the fair; past the sprawling antique tractor collector and Platteville Optimist booths.  It was going on 6:30 PM and we were both wanting to learn the details of the advertised 7:00 PM Tri-State Truck and Tractor Pull and to get something to eat before the big event.  We headed for a huge grandstand-looking building with our questions and our appetites.

People seemed to be standing at a small table near the backside of the stands, receiving a paper wristband in exchange for a business card slip of paper.  I found out that this was the “Fair Bonus Card” redemption center and if we had been savvy enough to pre-purchase one; we’d have received “deep discounts” on all purchased beverages and food.  Since we had not, we shuffled away to a tall painted plywood kiosk under the stands that was selling beer “tickets” (one for $ 2.50/ two for $ 5.00).  A man and woman were both wedged into the small booth.  The man leaned toward the window ledge as I approached to ask what purchasing the tickets meant to me.  “It’s for the beer” remarked the jug-eared bespectacled, string bean man.  He was wearing one of those old-time red and white striped aprons.  My second question of “is a beer one or two tickets?” caused him to look backward to the woman as if to ask her if I was for real.  He looked back and grinned, “one beer for one ticket.”  Wow, I thought and said as much to Barbara.  This was great!  Being accustomed to paying over six dollars at any number of venues in the greater Milwaukee area for a 12 ounce cup of adult malt beverage, I was elated.  “I’ll take two (for now”) I said with real joy in my heart.

After waxing a lengthy Lions Club conversation with the Lancaster Lions members who staffed the beer ticket redemption counter, we got in the queue for the homemade foods.  A pork loin sandwich was recommended for me by one of the volunteer grillers and Barbara decided on the “Walking Taco” (A neatly snipped bag of Fritos as the main course, covered with taco meat, cheese, diced tomatoes and shredded lettuce.)  We ate at a wooden picnic table under the grandstand with a large cow-barn fan pushing natural coolness onto the bystanders; thoroughly enjoying the local fare.  I then wandered over to the ticket window and bought a pair of general admission tickets to the truck and tractor pull for another 14 bucks; plus two more beer tickets later and we were sitting on the aluminum bleacher seats awaiting the next exciting participant in the contest.   From the eyes of a complete novice; the Tri-State Truck and Tractor Pullers run a nice, neat, tight competition.  Mod 2wd Trucks, Modified V8 Trucks, Hot Farm Tractors, Super Farm Tractors, Super Stock/Pro Stock, Tractors, and the ever popular 2011 SUPER STOCK 4X4s make up the six categories of sliding weight-pulling vehicle.  The membership entry fee to the Tri-State club (allowing the members to participate in multiple annual contests) is $100.00 per vehicle (tractor or truck) and $25.00 for each driver to cover insurance.  Each puller is allowed two attempts to make a measurable pull within 100 feet. Moving the sled a measurable distance (one inch or farther) is an attempt.   Weights pulled, range from 6000 to over 10,000 lbs!

You’ll be happy to know (as I certainly was) that (according to the 69 official general rules) “when a vehicle motor is running someone must be in the driver’s seat at all times in the pits or on the track,” and that “no shorts are allowed during pulling or while working as an official.”  When one unlucky puller got off to a great start and suddenly blew something up inside his rig, the sage and wizened track announcer stated the following for the benefit of the assembled crowd of anxious onlookers; “You know these tractors are pushed far harder than God ever intended them to be sometimes.”   Amen brother.

The 30-minute ride back to the Grant River Campground was uneventful.  We climbed into the small nylon tent to collect some blissful shut-eye when the first of the eight, nightly speeding Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF) freight trains, suddenly slammed onto the tranquil scene.  Our campsite was strategically layed out midway between two (mandatory 140 decibel, locomotive horn-blaring) crossroads.  We were particularly ensured to hear both engineer-delivered warning blasts with equanimity.   The brain does crazy things when the lights are out and imagining that the incredible cacophonous racket caused by the passing train cars would evolve into a screeching, twisting, accordion wreck of massive landscape-flattening freight cars is an easy one.  The BNSF (formed in 1996 out of the merger of the Burlington Northern and Santa Fe railways) is the second largest freight railroad in America, and is based out of Fort Worth, Texas.  BNSF directly owns and operates over 24,000 miles of track, in 27 states, hauling primarily grain, coal and intermodal freight.  These fascinating BNSF details were unfortunately lost on the both of us in the middle of the night while fighting to stay asleep between repeat performances.  Oh, and it rained too.  Hard.

Bird watching the next morning was wonderfully diverse.  While the coffee perked on the old green E-Bay Coleman stove; bright orange and black Baltimore orioles sat singing on an overhead electrical wire.  A large group of Red-winged blackbirds gathered in a nearby tree to verbally strategize their day as (over twenty) Turkey vultures soared in low trajectory arcs over the dual train tracks.  Cicadas were just warming up to their full pitch when the morning sun began to dry the moisture from the green tent and red bag chairs.  Many other birds could be seen and heard within the campground confines.  The list we tallied includes: Indigo bunting, Northern cardinal, Black-capped chickadee, American goldfinch, American robin, European starling, House finch, House sparrow, Downy woodpecker, Eastern wood pewee, Gray catbird, Chipping sparrow, White-breasted nuthatch, Field sparrow, Tree swallow, Barn swallow, Chimney swift, Mourning dove, American crow, Cedar waxwing, Least flycatcher, Great crested flycatcher, Eastern kingbird, Tundra swan, Great blue heron, Solitary sandpiper, Blue-winged teal, Ring-billed gull, American pelican, and Belted kingfisher.

The surrounding farmland was planted and thriving with eight-foot tall corn and acres of soybean plants.  The entire area along the Mississippi basin seemed lush and green; apparently plenty of rain had fallen in this year’s growing season.  We put the Canoe-dle in at the handy concrete campground  landing in the early evening, to partially escape being broiled within the shiny watercraft.  Light intermittent rain showers caused us to head for the shelter of overhanging trees near the northeast bank on several occasions, but the two hours we spent slowly paddling and exploring were relaxingly splendid.  Lilly pads along the sides of the river were huge and plentiful.  Duck weed covered the surface of the still near-shore water with a speckled brilliant green.  Large Catfish and other unknown shallow water creatures stirred the muddy river bottom as our aluminum canoe passed them overhead.

All in all, the trip was satisfying on many levels.  The camping, biking, and canoeing each complimented the surrounding beauty of the countryside, and even the noise of the trains was a unique opportunity to study the strength of American rail commerce.  We included a delightful Potosi Brewery tour and beer-drinking experience as part of this trip; however it will be detailed in another blog installation at another time.  This one’s getting long and I’m sure you need to take a break now.  Thanks for reading and (hopefully) enjoying the journey along with us, at this little slice of the Wisconsin bank of the Mighty Mississippi!

Birds and Beer (start a hobby this holiday)

Some things take that personal touch to fully enjoy...

I have been home brewing my own beer about as long as I have been an avid birder. Each time I successfully bottle the finished product I feel an immense sense of accomplishment. You may say and ask, "I'm sure anyone can probably brew their own beer Birdstud. What makes home brewing so special for you?" My answer is, "It just is." For some reason the two diverse activities delight me in their own unique ways; variety, unpredictability, and the requirement of a modicum of expertise and yet a pinch of (on the fly) invention. These ingredients make up the top four reasons I gravitate towards any activity.

Bird watching for instance provides a person with all of these by the virtue of - Chance guided by Intuition and Experience. Beer making is exactly like that too. Take a simple recipe and all of the necessary ingredients, carefully combine them and wait for the results. Do that a couple of times and soon you are tinkering and experimenting for just the right end product. Similarly, bird watching allows the novice to have an equal opportunity for success as the veteran might. How many birders have been in the presence of a new-bee bird watcher who scores something really cool when the old-timers totally missed the encounter? Probably all of them at one time or another. The more often you participate in something people, the better you get and the more experience you take to the task next time. Birding is (for me) all about the randomness of the sightings based upon getting myself into a position of potential success. Brewing beer is the same thing. Each require a certain mimimum of "equipment" too...enter the ingenuity of invention.

As anyone knows who ever began a new hobby, there are plenty of businesses out there more than willing to provide you with the tools and doo-dads that are "must-haves" related to that activity. This can be a bit problematic in terms of financing (and some times in the spousal-appeasing explanations of family funding spent aquiring said doo-dads) Here exists a perfect opportunity to "create" more thrifty solutions. Make your own "digi-scope" from a cheap digital camera, a segment of cardboard toilet tissue roll, and an inexpensive spotting scope...(thank you Laura Erickson) or making your own wort chiller from a roll of copper tubing bought at Lowes saving over fifty dollars from the "store-bought" model. This appeals to modern man (or some women) at the basic "I can do that" level and equally demonstrates just how clever you may be to your peers. Totally a "win-win" setting. After all, who doesn't like talking about a found (or created) bargain?

HERE'S more detail on my latest brewing experience if you care to check it out. I wish to thank my new friends at Northern Brewer for their concise basic instructions and to point out the images attached to the document are mine, added to enhance and assist the novice brewing enthusiast.

So folks, this upcoming holiday season, appeal to your crafty, thrifty, adventurous, hobbyist nature and try something unexpected, a true challenge, and good for the soul: Brew beer or start birding. These hobbies (and others like them) will last a lifetime and provide amazing fodder for story upon story told both on the feather trail, or around the campfire holding a cold frosty bottle of pure pride.