Trapped!

I just wanted walk out the front door like a normal person, shake out my dust cloth, and come back in. 

A glance out the windows to the east told me that the front door wasn't a good choice.

A large Eastern Wild Turkey gobbler was strutting not far from the house.

He stepped into the sunlight, his beard and tail feathers catching the sun's first light as he pivoted slowly, 

dragging his wing feathers on the ground...

 ...every move calculated to impress the hens.

It didn't seem to be working, and he paused for a bite to eat before resuming his display. 

Little does he know how he impacts his audience behind the windows.

Turkeys have an acute sense of sight and hearing, and Don and I often find ourselves sneaking around the house in the mornings, 

even ducking below the windows to avoid their sharp eyes, and speaking in whispers when they are near the house.

Not wanting to disturb the show, I thought I might go out the back door, but to the west a chorus line was forming up. 

Their short, stubby beards identified the participants as jakes, probably just under a year old, 

but they already know the steps of this dance as if they had been practicing for years.

So basically, I was trapped indoors. 

As if that isn't enough, as of late, we can't walk down the driveway without three pair of wood ducks taking off from the pond in swift flight, 

complaining loudly about the disruption. 

They've been here for a little over a week, and we hope one of the pairs, at least, will nest here.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not looking for sympathy here. 

The turkeys tend to make their way slowly around the house, walking in and out of the woods, so I'll make my break when they're out of sight. 

If I've learned anything during my time in the Ozarks, it's this: 

being trapped isn't all bad, and the dust cloth can wait.


Linking with Saturday's Critters
and Wild Bird Wednesday

As Sure as Spring

There's music in the woods at night; the coyotes are singing their spring love songs.  If you get close enough, it can raise the hair on the back of your neck, and around here, it's a good harbinger of spring.  Last week, the ground was in a deep freeze, and with the exception of a few snowdrop blossoms and the music of the coyotes, it seemed there wasn't a single sign of spring's approach in these Ozark hills.

Until Thursday.  The first red-winged blackbird made his appearance...

 ...and in spite of the chill,
kept up his cheery chipping as if he was quite happy to be back.  

Friday we spotted a Phoebe, returned from its winter in the south,
wagging its tail and singing its name.

A spring peeper (aka, tree frog) let out a timid peep from the pond. 

Yesterday, for the first time this season, 

we watched wild turkey gobblers displaying for the hens.

One old gobbler wanted to be sure the young ones, with their short, stubby beards, 

knew who was boss.

Even when it seems like a long wait, it's good to know there are some things you can always count on-- that as long as the earth endures, spring will come again, that somewhere the coyotes will sing, that the sun will come up in the morning, and that God's mercy will be available for a new day.

Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him.  

As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; 

he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rain that waters the earth.

Hosea 6:3

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,

to the soul who seeks him.

Lamentations 3:22, 23, 25



Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday