There was a strong easterly wind blowing hard yesterday afternoon as I pedaled from the mall towards home. I was not enjoying the push against my bicycle and me. When there is intense wind like that, I feel like a caped superhero pedaling towards a wind machine, so I try to distract myself by looking at what is going on around me. I had just passed the freeway underpass, and had stopped to rest underneath (taking a break more from the wind than being tired), when I noticed something astonishing. There were about twenty trout trying unsuccessfully to slink up the shallowest part of the canal water that was funneling downstream into them.
I marveled at how they squiggled towards the current, but even after watching for about 5 minutes, I did not see any of the fish succeed in getting upstream at that spot. In fact, they seemed a little tired of trying and many of them were content to school around in the deeper water near the underpass. Meanwhile, there was a lovely pair of Canada geese taking a bird bath in the same area, because they could stand in the water perfectly. They were stunning, as I watched them dip their heads below the surface and throw the water over their backs. The male beat his powerful wings in the wind, perhaps to dry himself as they waded there.
At some point, I decided to continue on my quest home. Dealing with about as much wind as I could stand, feeling the pressure of cycling in the same direction as the trout who were obviously migrating upstream. I wondered if it felt similar. I passed the library and looked off into the canal for a moment when a very large trout leaped out of the water as it tried to maneuver over a small waterfall, like I'd seen in a salmon migration documentary.
It was unsuccessful, but provided hope that the rest of the trout from downstream below would make it to wherever they would eventually spawn. By the time I reached my home, I promised myself to check on them again to see how far they had made it. Will they make it past the waterfall?
...is a narrative that chronicles life stories by Katherine B. Kingsley. It began as a tribute to her once in a lifetime dog, Hardy, who tragically passed away in the summer of 2010. It has evolved into a place for Katherine to express her love for animals, travel, education, and the world. Many of the entries are intended to be assembled into a memoir, which she hopes to publish someday.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Ode to Birch Trees
We have two Birch trees in our back yard that need to be removed. They have simply grown too large for the space. They are encroaching on our neighbor's yard. They are really messy. They are also a rest stop for the Goldfinches that pass through every year. I swear. One of the hardest things to do in the garden is remove unwanted trees. Even as I wrote that it sounded like an oxymoron: unwanted trees.
But unwanted they are.
Brad took out one of them, but the other bigger one is beyond his skill set. So I made some phone calls. When the arborist I chose came over to assess the situation, he said, "Trees are like kids. When they're little they're small and cute, and they are fairly easy to take care of. Then they get big, and they make big messes, cause lots of problems, and become difficult to keep up with."
I always say the best course, when tree removal is inevitable, is to plant another more appropriate tree in another place in the yard. In fact, I've already planted the two replacement trees, high on our hill. They are California Sycamore trees that were started from seed back when I first began teaching over ten years ago. These trees are about 5 feet now, but they are growing fast. They will be excellent shade trees someday, and I look forward to that. In the meantime, I wish I could let go of the guilt I feel about removing these ones!
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
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