Glimpses

At 11:30 this morning, I saw the great horned owl, pursued by a pack of angry crows. It was only a glimpse, but that's enough to make me happy. After months of watching them sit and preen and hoot in their favorite group of trees, they seemed to have suddenly disappeared. I still hope to find a nest and the screeching of owlets. But I'm content just knowing they're around, even if they've become elusive and fallen silent.

Yesterday evening, I saw a heron at Poindexter. For the first time, I was able to watch it without scaring it away. Unfortunately, it stayed around for only a few minutes before flying off. But still, that glimpse renewed my motivation to go back and wait for it again.

No photos this time. Just memories. And a lot of mosquito bites.

In search of a heron

We went out tonight to look for a great blue heron. We've seen them at Poindexter many times before, but only because we keep flushing them out and away. I want to be able to sit there and just watch them. But they're so quiet and quick to fly away that it's hard to have that moment. I was out there yesterday evening as well, and found one without scaring it. Unfortunately, as I crouched down and moved as quietly as possible to a better location, the bird moved. I don't know how, as I didn't hear wings flapping or the rustling of the water. But it moved upstream, and when I found it again, it was flying away. Some day I'll be able to insert a heron photo at the top of a post. But for now...thwarted...

So tonight we were careful. Slow, light steps at each bend in the river. I was sure we'd find one of them tonight. But our efforts were in vain. Either the herons weren't around tonight or we just didn't get to the right place at the right time. Thwarted again...

We did see a lot of other birds. The swallows were still swarming around the overpass, going back and forth from their little mud nests to the pond and back. But busy birds need rest too, and every so often cliff swallows like this one, and the occasional tree swallow, stopped to sit on a nearby wire fence.

The yellow-headed blackbirds were also out in full force. There must have been at least ten at one of the small ponds, and they were crying out their weird "song" for all to hear (go listen to it...it's bizarre), greatly overwhelming any noises the red-winged blackbirds attempted.  And I'm always impressed by pelicans, even when they're just flying overhead.

Add to all this a gorgeous sunset breaking through the constant grayness that has overcome our little corner of Montana, plus the two little hee-hoo-ing black-capped chickadees at our apartment window this morning, and we've definitely had a happy Sunday.

Beginnings

"Every writer knows that the choice of a beginning for what he will write is crucial not only because it determines much of what follows but also because a work's beginning is, practically speaking, the main entrance to what it offers." -Edward Said Beginnings

We've been meaning to start this for quite some time. Trouble was, we couldn't think of an appropriate blog name. After all, a good name says as much about the purpose of what we're writing as the posts within. 

Today brought a flash of inspiration. I was re-reading part of Wallace Stegner's Wilderness Letter, a poignant plea for the preservation of an idea called 'wilderness'. Thus "Wilderness Letters" became a blog. We don't expect this blog to be ground-breaking or earth-shattering. We don't expect to accumulate masses of readers, or to reach people who could enact policies or laws that would benefit our wilderness spaces. We simply want to tell our story, about how and where and when we step outside, and how we understand what nature is.