Gray skies, bare trees.  An oak leaf flies in November’s wind.  Whoosh!

(photo by Marcy Cunkelman)

This was supposed to be my big day for visiting the Allegheny Front Hawk Watch near Central City, PA but the weather in the mountains and in northern Pennsylvania is dreadful right now.

Yesterday’s news of 4.5 inches of snow in State College — and more on the way — sent everyone scrambling to cancel outdoor activities across the state.  Here in Pittsburgh where it’s cold and rainy today’s neighborhood cleanup was canceled too. 

Everything is on hold.  So is migration.

I hope the birds who are waiting out the storm survive these days of bad weather.  It will be hard for them to find something to eat under all that snow. 

(photo of snow damage in State College by Jesse Ferrell, linked from his Accuweather community blog site.  Click here for more of Jesse’s photos of the State College snowfall.)

1 October 2009

No, I’m not talking about football.  I’m talking about staying warm.

The weather has been getting colder every day for a week.  This morning it was in the upper 30s at dawn.  By now most of you have turned on your heat, but not us.  We’re toughing it out until we get a new furnace.  The old one won’t turn on and rather than pay to fix it I thought we could cope without it until the furnace man comes with a new one on Friday.

This plan has resulted in a couple of “learning experiences.”

First, we’ve learned that 60 degrees feels great outdoors but when you’re inside it’s like Antarctica, especially when it was summer last week.

On Tuesday I was really crabby and could not figure out why.  Eventually I put on my coat (though I was indoors) and suddenly felt fine, even happy.  I was crabby because I was cold.

We’ve discovered which rooms are warmer and are spending our time there.  So why is the basement warmer than the living room?  Cold air should be falling to the basement – and it is – but the water heater is running more often and its metal exhaust vent warms the room enough to make a difference.

And finally, we’re huddling.  We huddle at night just like the ducks in this picture and our cat finds a crack to sleep between us.  Emmy seems so affectionate right now.  I hope she remembers to love us when the heat is on.

(Ducks in a huddle from Shutterstock)

p.s. Emmy has many names including Emmalina.

After weeks of bitter cold, Raccoon Creek was icy and quiet yesterday when the temperature reached 55 degrees at the Wildflower Reserve.

Muddy water flowed through an ice-free channel but after two warm days the creek was high and made soft gurgling sounds as it passed under the remaining ice.  It looked peaceful while I paused to eat my lunch.

Then crack! Boom!  Upstream a large slab of ice broke free, crashed into a submerged tree and jammed.  More ice joined it, spinning in the flow.  The pressure cause a big section to break free and scrape the shoreline with an ugly tearing sound.

Chunks from the breakup floated down to a small jam in front of me.  When they reached the blockage their back ends tipped down, their noses tipped up, they flipped over, submerged and were sucked under the ice sheet.  I watched them pop out on the other side and bob downstream.

This didn’t last long.  Soon the entire channel filled with ice, the water rose rapidly and flooded the shore.  Then the ice rose too, buckled and broke.  Jamming and breaking, the amazing thing was that this action was caused by liquid and solid water rubbing up against each other.

I’m glad the episode at Raccoon Creek was small.  I didn’t get wet.  This morning’s news reported an ice jam on Neshannock Creek in Lawrence County where three people were rescued from the rising water.

(photo of an ice jam on Raccoon Creek on February 8, 2009, by Kate St. John)

As I write this it’s -4 degrees Fahrenheit (-20 Celsius).

Fortunately there’s a nice covering of snow to protect the plants and small animals, but we and the birds operate in the air – where it’s coldest.

Years ago I knew a woman named Louise Reiley who was a missionary nurse in Alaska and China more than 50 years ago.  She had many stories about the successes and hardships of her time abroad but there was one thing she said that stuck with me:  “Hot and cold are a state of mind.”

Louise explained that if you thought “warm” when it was cold, you wouldn’t feel the temperature.  She said it really worked.  I have never been able to do it.  Instead I compensate by wearing layers. 

Today it’s going to take a while to get dressed:  tights, corduroy jeans, ski pants, two layers of socks, boots with felt linings, undershirt, turtleneck, wool sweater, parka with hood, boola scarf, hat, glove liners, mittens.  When I’m done I can barely walk and can’t see my feet without bending over, but I don’t feel the cold. 

I’m lucky I don’t have to stay outdoors all the time.  Birds do, so today will be especially challenging for them.  They’ll fluff out their feathers to make their down hold more heat and they’ll eat a lot.  If they don’t get enough to eat, they’ll die.

So bundle up and fill your bird feeders.  Let’s all think “warm.”

(photo of a Pine Siskin and American Goldfinches by Marcy Cunkelman)

It’s one of those days when it looks nicer outside than it really is.   The wind is blowing hard from the north but the sun is out so the birds and squirrels are at my feeders. 

It’s a good day for staying indoors with a cup of hot chocolate.  I know this because I took a walk at Duck Hollow this morning.  It’s sheltered from the north so after seeing hundreds of gulls, some hooded mergansers and a lesser scaup I walked along the river trail. 

There I found a flock of cardinals, carolina chickadees and white-throated sparrows eating Oriental bittersweet berries.  This invasive plant seemed to be the only abundant bird food along the trail – except for the birds themselves.  A red-tailed hawk eventually caught one of them. 

I rounded the bend in the river.  Now the wind was in my face but there was a surprise overhead.  Two flocks of tundra swans flew over.  Woo hoo!

By then I was thoroughly cold so I hurried home for lunch and the comforts of home – and to look outside my window.

(photo by Kate St. John, taken from my back window)