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Sept 1, 2005  The Big Picture Great vistas are where you find them. For me, such a place is the house in Buffalo Creek where I’m currently dog sitting. Last night, through the west window, I watched in awe the predicted advance of a cold front into our area. It manifested over the horizon as a great black solid wall of cloud and slowly blotting out the bright sunset sky. Having just watched the devastation of hurricane Katrina on TV, I was more than a little perturbed by the lead-gray tumbling clouds that hovered menacingly over the town of 100 Mile House (about ten miles away.) The solid ragged edge of the cloud bank more than once sent down fast moving fingers of fog to the ground, tentacles of moisture more than funnel clouds, I imagined. Then the rain hit, abetted by the wind. The rafters of the ceiling cracked just enough to let the dogs know there was something to be alarmed about. Great arcs of lighting lit the sky from the east to the west, all very watchable from my perch on the recliner. I talked soothingly to the dogs as each lightning bolt lit the room. The dogs, and I, felt the floor beneath our feet move ever so slightly as the rolling thunderclaps secondary volleys followed the first. Soon the storm passed and the darkness of night made the views from all house windows equal. Earlier, during the day, I stood on the deck of the house looked east and beheld another great vista. To the east there is a wide view of the sky, a stony outcropping, and a long stretch of open pasture land. I was surprised by what I saw. First one, then two, then four Turkey Vultures flew into view just above the trees. I wasn’t thoroughly convinced they were Vultures so I grabbed my binoculars which were sitting on a bench just inside the open front door. At first I doubted their identity because they were flapping. These birds are such great soarers that they probably feel a Turkey Vulture embarrassment when having to flap their wings in order to stay aloft. Was this a migration I wondered? Only a few days earlier, while looking in the same direction I was a little surprised to see no less than eight Hawks fly into view. Again, some were just above the trees while others soared on the thermal winds. Most of the eight Hawks were Red-tails, but one was oddly marked. Though only able to study it for a few seconds, I noted the markings of a Rough-legged hawk - i.e. pale body, dark wingtips, and a tail with a dark terminal band. Another was a dark morph form of a Red-tailed Hawk. I continued to watch a typical Red-tailed Hawk through the binoculars and was surprised to see a small Hawk, either Coopers or Sharp-shinned, fly up from the canopy of the forest and soar in circles just under the Red-tail. Was I watching the beginning of a kettle of hawks forming? In short order all Hawks sailed out of sight. But... back to the Vultures. Instead of quickly flying out of sight as I thought they might, the four Vultures executed several tight circles over the trees to the north of the house, some ended up kiting around the big granite outcropping. At one point a large dark bird settled momentarily on one of the traditional Eagle roost trees. Was it an arboreal touch-down by a Vulture? I failed to confirm it as such because the binoculars were firmly in the grasp of a visitor who dropped by at the height of the Vulture incursion. Binoculars once again back where they belonged, I watched a sudden attack on one of the Vultures by what looked like a Red-tailed Hawk. It wasn’t much of an attack, the Hawk, flying high over the Vultures, singled one out and dived down on it. The Vulture flinched its wings; neither bird appeared to have any interest in making contact with the other. Still it was odd. Not so much in the realm of sky vistas but rather in the ‘room to ramble’ category, is the space available to walk at the dog-sit. One such walk the dogs and I often take is a loop along the fenceline, down to the creek and back up through the west pasture. Yesterday, while on this walk, we disturbed a bird that for a time remained unidentified. All I had to go on was a sharp ‘sbic’ coming from a tangle of fallen dead willows a few feet away. I ruled out Yellowthroat immediately. A Yellowthroat would never be caught out of the grassy edge of the creek. Also their alarm call is a blunt ‘bdih.’ I was almost convinced the caller was a Winter Wren. I imitated the call and the bird showed itself. It was a male MacGillivray’s Warbler. It advanced through the branches towards me and I moved off quickly as soon as I knew what it was. Just around the next bend in the creek, where on a previous walk we had disturbed four Green-winged Teal, this time we flushed another surprising creature. Typically one dog walks behind me and two walk in front. Now, suddenly three dogs appeared ahead. As my mind adjusted to what I saw, it became apparent that one of the dogs was actually a coyote. It was a little startling that this usually furtive animal was only 50 feet ahead of me with one of the dogs close behind it. I stopped, got control of two of the dogs and waited, sure that any healthy coyote could outrun a domestic dog. Oddly, the next thing I saw was the coyote coming my way. The dog chased it slowly, in no particular hurry to do it harm. When the coyote saw the pursuing dog on one side, and me and the other two dogs blocking its line of escape, the coyote turned toward the creek. It shinnied up a dead tree that leaned over the water, and I noted that it only had three legs. A lot of things were happening at the time, but from what I could tell with a quick glance was that its front right leg was missing up next to the chest. That’s why it was acting so strange. As I rallied all three dogs, the coyote threw itself from the leaning tree into the water with an audible splash then disappeared across the creek. Shortly after that, from the concealment of the tall grass, the coyote started barking loudly. It carried on and on as the dogs and I continued moving along the creek. The coyote, out of sight, appeared to be following us from the other side of the water. Finally, past the big mud slide area we had the opportunity to swing away from the creek. Even after leaving the creek and reaching the house the coyote could still be heard baying. Thoughts of the three-legged coyote continued to play on my mind long after the walk, even as I stepped outside that night to marvel at the gigantic night sky canopy. Vistas of life are not all grand; some are troubling, some awe inspiring, but the big picture is made up of all the little pictures, down here on earth. To e-mail Tom CLICK HERE To look at previous column CLICK HERE |
