Froggie wooing

It's frog season, all of a sudden. I was startled when this leopard frog leapt out at me in the greenhouse this evening. Walking up to the pond shortly afterwards, I was even more surprised to hear the frog chorus that was going on up there.

This is our fourth spring here, but this is the first time that I've heard Spring Peeper frogs in full song. It is deafening, especially when you consider that these frogs are less than an inch in length.

And while I'm on the subject of aquatic creatures,a new one has taken up residence in the ditch at the front of our property. It took us a while to work out what it was (it's very camera-shy), but we finally realised that the medium-sized furry beast lurking there is a muskrat. You can just see it in the bottom right corner of the picture below - but, like I said, it doesn't like having its photo taken!

Nary a cloud...

Well, alright, there was one - but even that had gone ten seconds after I took this photo in the hayfield. It's been a very sunny month and is on track to be our best month ever in terms of the average amount of electricity generated each day by the solar panels.

The stream that runs down from the big pond is down to a mere trickle and the seasonal pond in front of the greenhouse has already dried up. Usually this doesn't happen until June (just when it's full of tadpoles).

The other odd thing has been the complete lack of any April frosts - the lowest temperature recorded this month was 0.4°C/32.7°F. The average temperature for April is usually 6.1°C/43°F - this month it has been 8.6°/47.5°F.

We're picking asparagus already - last year I didn't pick any until the middle of May - and the lilac is very nearly out. The trees generally seem more leafy than usual: I didn't notice such a big contrast between the advance of spring here and in England. I'm normally struck by how much greener it is over there at this time of year, but this time there wasn't a huge difference.

About that weight loss resolution...

Admire this photograph (taken at the edge of the pond), please:

No, you need to really admire it. For much longer than that, if you don't mind. Otherwise, all my suffering will have been in vain.

While I was framing the shot the ice beneath my feet gave way and I overbalanced, finding myself sitting in the snow with my lower legs dangling inside this hole:

The temperature outside was -10°C/14°F. Not the best weather to go paddling in, really. The water was certainly ... bracing.

Turkey trot*

A soothing mixture of colours at the almost-frozen pond yesterday.

The area was being visited by a group of wild turkeys when I turned up with the dog. When he arrived they took off into the trees, with much heavy beating of wings. I've never managed to get a close look at them, thanks to Toby, but did manage to grab a distant shot of one, before it flew further away.

They left behind ample evidence of their visit. The footprints made me feel as though I were following a treasure-trail created by someone who was determined that I shouldn't lose my way.

*I was interested to learn from Wikipedia that the original dance of this name gained its popularity after being denounced by the Vatican (a pre-Internet version of the Streisand effect?). According to the New York Times, the newly-elected US president, Woodrow Wilson, cancelled the traditional Inaugural Ball in 1913 because

he feared there would be indulgence in the "turkey trot," the "bunny hug," and other ragtime dances, and thus provoke what might amount to a National scandal.

First sprinkling

Back home and it is cold. Not above 0°C yet and it's lunchtime. Any standing water has a thin film of ice over it. This morning we've had a few flurries of snow: enough to coat the pond with white.


The geothermal system is keeping the house a lot warmer than it was last year, although we're keeping it set at a fairly low temperature and are using the wood-burning stoves as our main source of heat. It really feels luxurious (and rather decadent) not to have to get out of bed into a cold house.

One's bittern, always shy

Look, I know it's a completely rubbish photograph that could be portraying absolutely any large brown bird with long yellow legs, but you'll have to take my word for it that it's an American bittern. We've been seeing this bird around the pond all summer but it flies off as soon as we approach, making it difficult to identify (for novice bird-watchers like us, anyway). This is the best picture I've been able to get and it was only today that I finally worked out what the bird is. My Birds of Ontario book says that it is "uncommon or even rare to actually see one", so I'm particularly thrilled to have finally identified it and taken this photo today, even if it is rubbish.

Pond love and Pond Life

I can see why Claude Monet got so obsessed by his pond. I find ours fascinating: it never seems to look the same way twice and is often teeming with life. I try to walk up to it at least every other day. Yesterday these reeds seemed to be trying to express their affection in return:


That image will have to sustain me for a week as I'm now back in the UK.

My mother won one prize in the whole of her school career. It was the Observer's Book of Pond Life, which always struck me as rather an unkind thing to give out as a reward, but I think she was genuinely proud of having won it.