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Dog Bob Phenology Journal

Pileated Woodpeckers, Barred Owls, Turkey Vultures, and Space Karen

 

By Joshlaymon – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=70700524

After 3 years of only sporadic sightings, I’m hearing or seeing pileated woodpeckers now almost every time I go out. They’re either thriving or the logging next door is forcing them into more cramped quarters. Most likely the latter. I still get giddy like a little kid whenever one of the Woody Woodpecker Motherfuckers soars over. I’ve even seen a few pairs, presumably mated. The late-succession forest here is ideal for them. Plenty of snags to set up shop in.

***

During a recent hike, Althea ranged about 50 yards ahead of me on the logging road trail, close enough that I could see her blaze vest as she looked for something to harass. That’s when a large barred owl came flying from her direction toward me, alighting silently on a maple branch about 30 feet overhead. It’s the first good look I’ve gotten at this guy. I hear him often from up at the house, and I’ve seen some sort of raptor bolt from that location before, usually triggered by Althea’s chaos, but I could never tell if it was a hawk or an owl, though I was suspecting the latter because of how preternaturally quiet it was as it wove through the trees toward the creek. This time I got a good look at him as he scanned the nearby trees, blinking, and then looked down and noticed me grinning up at him. As he flew off, a few lines from Yeats fluttered into my head …

Like a long-legged fly upon the stream
His mind moves upon silence.

Yates was talking about Caesar, which is what I now call that barred owl.

***

Sydney was alarmed, looking into the forest that surrounds his room and croaking about a threat of some sort. Usually, it’s one of the red-shouldered hawks sitting in a tree waiting for a chance to pounce on a squirrel. But I couldn’t see anything. Sydney doesn’t do false alarms. Had to be something, which I discovered when I drove out 30 minutes later for groceries. A turkey vulture was dining on a dead squirrel on the road, and I’m certain Sydney could see him flying up into the trees each time a car came by.

***

I finally killed my Twitter account. Fuck Elon. Life is too short to spend time in a kingdom ruled by Space Karen. I’m taking Mastodon for a test drive and like it so far. It’s already a massive upgrade. No ads. No Space Karen. Lots of dogs.

 

Categories
MycoBob Phenology Journal

Stinking Orange Oyster (Phyllotopsis nidulans)

Stinking Orange Oyster Phyllotopsis nidulans
Stinking Orange Oyster Phyllotopsis nidulans

Warm, rainy December night complete with thunder, lightning, something scurrying across the cabin’s pine ceiling. Return of the flying squirrels? They were probably grounded by the weather. I was up reading well before dawn, and by 9 Althea and I headed out for a hike. The rain had stopped, and after checking the bird feeders we headed out to the ridge trail, where I immediately spotted a new (to me) mushroom on a jagged maple stump. Hard to miss that orange glow in the drab winter woods, kindling a faint hope that I’d spotted an out-of-season fruiting of chicken of the woods. A closer look quashed that uncharacteristic fit of optimism. This mushroom had gills and looked more like an oyster, but not one I’d yet encountered.  iNaturalist suggested the Stinking Orange Oyster ID, and that’s what I’m going with unless someone there thinks differently. It does look like an oyster, and it does stink. Apparently it’s edible, but who’d want to?

Stinking Orange Oyster Phyllotopsis nidulans

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Phenology Journal

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