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Cabin Life – #70

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I made my maple syrup yesterday, and it turned out really good.  I know Maple Syrupbecause I drank more than a couple shots of boiling sap and syrup during the process.  I did not mind the taste-testing.  Due to the incredibly windy conditions up here and the fact that there’s a residential burn-ban in effect, I decided to boil down the sap at Amy’s.  I ended up with about five and a half gallons of sap which boiled down nicely to about a pint and a half of syrup.  Not a ton, but enough to enjoy and even share.  Making and tasting the syrup was a much needed break after the events of the past week.  I think most of us needed a distraction or two this week.

For the last few days, I’ve felt like I was constantly fighting back tears.  The heartbreak in Boston affected me more than I expected.  I had no family or close friends anywhere near the scene of devastation.  I have never come close to feeling the type of fear and panic that those who were there must have felt.  I had no connection to the tragedy whatsoever, yet I’ve felt like crying for a full forty-eight hours.

I have always been an information junkie, and following the bombing I was once again unable to tear myself from the news.  I don’t watch TV news, but was plastered to the internet with a morbid curiosity that I would not be able to explain.  After a day of taking it all in, I wanted to not read about the tragedy anymore.  I was burnt out on the news and was starting to get to a point where I needed to read about other things.

I turned to an online running community that I belong to for a distraction, and found that there were quite a few of us in the same boat.  We were not marathoners or victims, just people who go running sometimes and were having difficulty processing the events.  Then I started to hear about the “anger runs.”  The more experienced and dedicated runners were going out for a run not because it was in their schedule, but because they were angry, and running was the only way they knew how to deal with it.

I took this advice and went for my own anger run.  I was angry that this had happened.  I was angry that so many runners didn’t get to finish their race.  I was angry that so many people were injured.  I was angry at the people who were already blaming whole religions and races.  I was just angry.

I went to the gym to go for a run in the hopes that I could watch a little TV and take my mind off it.  My usual program on the treadmill is to run for an hour and watch Sports Center.  But even they were talking about Boston.  It was a sporting event, after all.  About ten minutes in to the run I started to flip channels.  I found some old Fresh Prince of Bel-Air reruns and zoned out.

As I started to sweat and breathe hard I couldn’t help but feel a little better.  Burning off some pent up energy and getting exercise was doing me good.  I could start to think back on the events and my response to them with a little less emotion, and a little more insight.  I began to realize that it wasn’t the anger or sadness which had been bringing tears to my eyes.

The tears were being caused by a sad joy.  Amongst all the tragedy, I kept seeing pictures of people rushing in to help.  I saw all the posts about strangers being put up and fed by other strangers.  Pizza places handing out free food.  Restaurants opening their doors to charge a cell phone or use the Wi-Fi even if you didn’t have the money to buy anything.  These are the things that were bringing a tear to my eye.

I moved out to this cabin and drastically altered my lifestyle in an attempt to eliminate stress from my life.  It has not been entirely successful, but for the most part my simplified life is a pleasure to live.  However, it’s hard not to be affected when something of this magnitude occurs.  As Mr. Rogers said, we have to look for the helpers in times of tragedy.  Luckily, the people of Boston and all of us directly or indirectly affected will never have to look too far.  That’s what I’m taking comfort in, and I hope you can too.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #69

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So far, spring has been a big let down.  There were two robins in the yard Frozen Cherry Logthis morning, hopefully representing a soon-to-be change in the weather.  Between the upper field and lower field, I’d say about two-thirds of the area is still covered in snow.  In the woods, I can post-hole my legs up to the calf when not wearing snowshoes.  Luckily, the freeze and thaw effect has left a fairly heavy crust on top of the snow, making it a little easier to walk around.

The little path that Pico and I have made to the sugar maples is a safe walk, and I have no problem doing it in sneakers.  I might break through three or four times, but the falls through the crust into the four or five inches of snow don’t seem to matter now.  The end is in sight.

I pulled one of the taps the other day.  Initially I had tapped three trees, and so far the production has not been bad.  I now have about five gallons of sap sitting in a bucket, waiting to be boiled and condensed into maple syrup.  It’s not much, but it’s not too bad for a trial run either.  I figure I might be able to get half a pint or even a little more syrup out of this big white bucket full of sap.

The largest tree I tapped didn’t produce much to begin with and after another week of only giving me a few ounces of sap, I decided to pull the tap and jug and just let that tree get on to the business of being a tree.  The other two trees I tapped are starting to dwindle in their production, and I am planning on pulling them out this week as well.  I’m going out of town for a couple days and decided to leave the taps and jugs in place until I get back.  I’m not worried about overflow or anything like that, and with the reduced sap flow the last couple of days, I don’t think that will be a problem anyway.

The very first drop of sap that came out of the tap was both exciting and disappointing.  It was exciting because it meant spring and sweetness and another project to take on.  It was disappointing due to the fact that it seemed so insignificant.  Literally just a drop in the bucket.  I tasted the first drop as it rolled off the blue plastic spile and onto my tongue.  It was nothing more than sugar water, with an ever-so-slight taste of maple to it.  It’s amazing to think that at some point in history, someone looked at the clear liquid coming out of a maple stump and decided to taste it.  That such a huge tradition and addition to our culinary culture could come from some dirty tree water is wonderful.

But now, two weeks later, when I sealed up the lid on the almost full five gallon pail, it’s amazing that in such a short time so much potential has been unleashed.  There’s no doubt in my mind that if I had taken the time to tap the fifteen or so trees in the area that I could have had a considerable amount of syrup when all was said and done.  I actually regret not doing more this year, but as with all things, it is what it is supposed to be.

I can drive into the cabin without four wheel drive now, and have had the time to scout out some downed trees to drag out for next winter’s fire wood.  I have to fix the two metal roof panels that blew off the porch of the Upper Camp before any more damage occurs to the porch.  I have to watch out for hungry bears and raccoons.  There’s plenty to do out here, and making maple syrup is only one of many chores to be accomplished.

It is nice to think about the syrup as a chore.  I like being able to enjoy my chores, and sitting by a fire all day making syrup is definitely a chore I can take pleasure in.  I have no desire to climb up on a roof to fix the metal sheets.  I will take no pleasure in wondering if the sounds I hear while sitting in the outhouse are those of a bear wandering by.  But I will enjoy the spring, even though it is being rude with its tardiness.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #68

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We’re here in April, and there’s still quite a bit of snow on the ground.  The Spring Streamdays have been warm enough to start melting the snow, but the cold nights and occasional snow showers have hampered the quick onset of spring.  Pico and I went for a last ski down the railroad tracks near a friend’s house the other day, but now the snowshoes and skis are stashed, and unless something crazy happens with the weather, I think it’s time to call it a season.

A couple of weeks ago, it was so warm that we got our first taste of mud season.  Now, for those of you who don’t know, mud season in a semi-official time of year between winter and spring.  Mud season is not something that is well celebrated, but in some ways, it can be the best time of the year.

For me and the cabin, mud season is no picnic.  I live at the end of a one mile long dirt road with limited maintenance and no neighbors.  When there’s a couple of inches of snow on the road and it’s frozen solid, it’s a pretty nice drive.  But winter is the when the road is at its best, and mud season is when it’s at its worst.  Mud season is when the road gets wet, and it gets really wet.  There are several streams that cross the road at just a couple of locations.  These streams are all intermittent flows from springs up on the ridge.  I have two of these streams flowing through the property out here, but they join below my cabin and mark the end of the road.

The three or so drainages along the road however, can turn it into a sloppy mess.  Even with four wheel drive, I get tossed around and turned sideways in the two inch thick sludge.  This is a public road, and there’s always one guy with a huge truck that feels compelled to drive down the road at forty miles an hour, creating huge ruts which then freeze overnight and make my daily commute more than a little rough.

Luckily, the entire length of the road isn’t quite this bad.  During Hurricane Irene a couple years ago, the small streams turned into enormous torrents of white water.  Those small flows ripped out drainage pipes going under the road in two spots and created a large sinkhole up near my end of the road.  When the town fixed these issues, they did a good job and re-did whole sections with large crushed stone.  But, it’s the kind of sharp, angular stone that gives me a flat tire or two each year.  At least those sections aren’t muddy.  I’m really not sure how to feel about that.

The driveway is another matter.  After being forced to hike in for another couple of weeks, I can finally drive the car all the way up to the cabin.  It’s nice to be able to do that instead of stashing a sled at the bottom of the driveway and walking in dragging it behind.  There’s still quite a bit of snow and ice on the driveway because a big part of it doesn’t get much sun.  I think I should be all set to get in and out until next winter though.  It was a hassle parking at the bottom of the hill and hiking up to the cabin.  I just hope that mud season gets done in a hurry, otherwise I might have a much longer hike.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #67

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I love my dog Pico.  But there are times when he can be extremely The First Spileannoying.  Like right now, he’s licking my elbow and won’t stop.  I lifted my arm up off the table but he just jumped up on me to keep on licking.  I don’t know why he is doing this or what I could have possibly gotten on my elbow to make him want to lick it so bad.  He’s just a little weird sometimes.

I noticed another oddity out here this week.  I tapped a few maple trees so I could make a little sap this year.  Last year, I was all primed to do the work, but then maple season came and went in a week in February, and I was caught off guard and left with no syrup.

This year is a test run.  I bought some taps and used a few old milk jugs as buckets.  Trying to do it on the quick and cheap, I’m really only expecting a couple servings of syrup.  I don’t have the equipment or the time right now to handle a big production, but now that I know what I’m getting into, I can make a bunch of syrup next spring.

Last winter I found a cluster of nice maples not too far from the cabin, and never touched them.  But this year I picked up a bag of spiles at the local hardware store and the proper size drill bit. A friend and I took Pico, the taps, jugs, and drill out to the trees.  The sun was shining and it was perfect weather for sap to run.  As soon as the drill bit broke through the bark, a big, fat drop of sap coursed down the rough exterior of the tree.  The drill then died.

My cordless drill, which I’ve had since college, made a hole about half an inch deep and just stopped turning.  I jammed a tap into the hole to see how bad it was, and the tap stuck out a ridiculous amount.  No way would it be able to keep a full jug from falling to the ground.  I pulled the battery out of the drill and locked the bit in place.  I used the body of the drill as a handle and finished the hole using my power drill as a hand drill.  This is why I only placed three taps this year.

The next couple of days were cold and I didn’t think the sap would run that much.  From the yard I could see the jugs on the trees and knew that they hadn’t fallen or gotten blown off.  When I went and checked the jugs after two days, I noticed the irregularity that I was not expecting.  The smallest tree had given me the most sap, and the biggest tree had given me basically no sap.

Now, there could be many factors for this discrepancy independent of the size of the tree.  I just found it odd that this was the case.  I figured bigger tree equals more sap.  But maybe I did something wrong drilling the hole.  Maybe I put the tap in at too much of an angle.  Maybe the stupid tree just doesn’t produce that much sap.

After three days, I had a gallon of sap.  At this rate, I might be able to put my own syrup on one pancake.  But that’s not really the point this year.  I just want to try something I’ve never done before and see how it comes out.  That’s what this whole experience has been about too.  To try something I’ve never done before and see what happens.  And maybe that’s why Pico was licking my elbow earlier.  He just forgot that he’s done it before and wanted to see what he might find.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #66

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Well, they say that spring is here, but the eighteen inches of snow on the Horse Stable Fenceground out here says otherwise.  While show shoeing up in the back of the property, I took an old ax handle and checked the snow depth.  There’s still two feet of snow where the sun doesn’t shine.

I needed a break this week.  The wood stove is once again giving me problems with negative pressure causing smoke to come into the cabin.  I would be a lot more worried about this if it was December or January, but since it’s the end of March, it’s really not bothering me that much.  Obviously, the stove and the chimney need to be replaced, but now is not the time for that.

I can get by for a few weeks, occasionally staying at friend’s houses or just getting a small fire going to take the chill out of the air at night.  I’m done having a fire going all the time now though since I would really like to avoid having the cabin burn down.  Luckily, the end is in sight and the days are warm and sunny enough that I don’t need a fire.

I’ve spent the week sleeping at a friend’s house, with the cats and Pico.  I’m still spending my days and evenings at the cabin, but taking advantage of the offer of an “on-grid” place to stay.  It’s been really nice having internet and TV and hot water.  I know I’m not the only one who feels that it’s time for winter to hit the road, and I enjoy knowing that the end is near.

But in the mean time, I’m taking advantage of the warm days and the sun staying up much later.  I like not falling asleep at six in the afternoon, and the solar lights are working well with the increased daylight.  The solar radio still doesn’t get enough juice during the day for more than an hour or so of listening time though.

This is also my favorite time of year to go skiing and snow shoeing.  There’s enough snow on the ground that it’s still easy to bushwhack through the woods without getting caught on downed trees or branches.  My girlfriend and I went for a snow shoe the other day to check on Upper Camp and just kind of explore the woods behind the log cabin.  We had no problem with obstructions, but definitely needed the snow shoes to get around.

For most of the fall, I was looking for an old double-bit ax to rehab.  I decided it would be easier to just buy a new one, so I did.  But on our trek to Upper Camp, I checked the wood shed and barn to make sure that no critters had moved in.  I found an old double-bit ax in each of the buildings.  The handles are shot, the heads are pocked and rusty, and the edges are most likely too far gone to make either ax all that useful again.  But I grabbed them and carried them back to my cabin anyway.

I’m going to clean them up and put new handles in even if I don’t get to use the axes for anything other than decoration.  It’s part of the feeling of spring that I want to rehab something that’s pretty much useless.  The season is changing and it’s a chance for all of us to rehab our mental states and start looking again for the simple beauty in the world.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #63

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It’s forty degrees, the icicles are dripping snowmelt off the roof, and it’s Iceiclessnowing out.  Today seems to be a perfect example of the paradox of the season.  March starts tomorrow, and the end of winter is in sight.  But there’s a pretty solid likelihood of getting a bunch more snow, as well as days and nights that are bitterly cold.

This, for me, is often the toughest time of the year.  I’m still enjoying the winter skiing and snowshoeing, as well as the sight of the white woods.  But as we get deeper into March and closer to my birthday, I start getting antsy for spring to be here.  Last year, there wasn’t really a part of the winter like this, seeing as it was so warm and light on snow.  I mean, I went canoeing on my birthday in late March last year.  That was definitely a first for me.

The driveway is a hot mess now too.  I’m still able to drive up to the cabin and haven’t had to hike in since the middle of January.  But as the snow that’s on the ground gets heavier and wetter, it’s harder and harder to stay on the tracks I’ve made.  I’ve slid off the tracks a few times and always have to back up a little bit before getting back on them and driving up to the yard.  It won’t be long before I’m complaining about the mud at the top of the driveway, but for now, I’ll have to complain about the snow.

Pico and I took a nice long walk down the road this afternoon.  I don’t keep him on a leash out here, as he has never shown an inclination to take off on me.  He wanders a hundred yards ahead of me and sometimes if he finds something especially interesting to smell, I may even get ahead of him a little bit.  Today was the first time all winter when someone came down the road as we were walking though.  I grabbed Pico’s collar and held on as the pickup truck drove by us to the end of the road, turned around and came back by.  I recognized the truck as one of my “neighbors” from down the road about two miles.  His little dog was sticking its head out the window as they went past and the little dog and Pico shared a hello bark as the driver and I shared the obligatory half wave.

I think what makes this time of year something that I think about is that it’s warm and nice and perfect weather for going out and doing my favorite activities, but due to the overcast sky and chance of rain, I find it hard to be motivated to go skiing.  The days are longer and warmer but there’s always the feeling that I can go tomorrow.  Without having to drive anywhere to go skiing, it’s easy for me to throw on some clothes and boots and head out right from the front door.

Even though I am looking forward to the warm days of spring there’s also the dread that the snow coming down could turn to rain, and kill the snowpack that’s already on the ground.  Then there won’t be any skiing tomorrow or anytime soon.  It’s the differences in these two attitudes that makes March interesting.  I can’t wait to go skiing again, and I also can’t wait to be able to walk around the woods without snowshoes or skis.

This sums up my attitude about living out here as well.  I love the life and simple pleasures my lifestyle provides.  But I’m torn when I want to take a hot shower or just veg out and watch TV.  The paradox of the season is representative of my lifestyle.  Looking forward to polar opposite desires brings me down and motivates me at the same time.  I’d like to take a hot shower whenever I want, but I also don’t want to pay for utilities or live in some dumpy apartment.  I just have to weigh my desires and decide which is best for me, just like anyone else.  After all, the hard decision of moving out here has already been made.  Now it’s up to me to make it work.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #61

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Evening Entertainment
Psychologically, I am ready for winter to be over.  I like the snow and the skiing and the trips to the gym that I just can’t justify when it’s nice out, but I would really like some nice warm days to come our way.  Maybe I’m not ready for winter to be completely done, but I could use a February or early March thaw.

I was sitting here reading the other night, when the radio suddenly turned off.  This is a common occurrence, due to the fact that my radio is a “solar” radio.  I put solar in quotes because this is what the radio was advertised as, but it is, in fact a crank/rechargeable radio that happens to have a small solar panel on it.

This past summer I spent a little bit of money getting solar lights and this radio.  Last winter I had used an old digital alarm clock for my radio.  That clock was the same one that’s been waking me up since I was a freshman in high school.  It was a good, old-fashioned plug in clock radio that had a battery backup so that if the power went out, your alarm would still go off.  I went through a lot of nine-volt batteries listening to NCPR last winter, so many that I had to repair the wire harness a few times.  I took that clock radio to the campground last spring and decided to leave it there when I got my new solar radio.

The reception that I get on the new radio is good, but tuning it is a hassle and if I don’t charge it in the car then I will inevitably spend a significant portion of my evening cranking the thing so that I’m not sitting here in an eerie, mind-numbing, depression-inducing silence.

All that being said though, I wonder how long I would last without it.  Now, admittedly, I live in a writer’s dream.  Solitude, peace, quiet, and lots of inspiration surround me.  I like the peace and quiet, with no neighbors’ dogs barking or loud vehicles driving by.  I like the lack of distraction when I’m writing and reading.  But riding out the winter with its long nights would most definitely be a lot more trying if not for the company of the radio.

I suppose that when you deprive yourself of a lot of distractions, it becomes a luxury to have a little something going on in the background.  I have friends that have come to visit the North Country and can’t sleep because there’s no sound of traffic or sirens to listen to as they drift off.  I don’t have that problem.  There’s no shortage of noise out here, it’s just not the type of noise created by planes, trains and automobiles.

Between the wood crackling in the stove and two rambunctious, mostly nocturnal cats, I have plenty of sound to drift off to.  Throw Pico’s gentle snoring into the mix and the sound of the ever-present wind blowing around the cabin and it’s basically a symphony of natural sounds all night long.  But there’s sometimes I just don’t feel like listening to the wind or to Ed and Herbie wrestling.  That’s when the radio becomes important.  The distraction of music or talk radio or whatever is on gives me a much needed respite from the regular sounds this cabin makes.

When the sun goes down at four-thirty in the afternoon, it’s the radio that keeps me awake until seven.  When I don’t know if I should bother shoveling in the morning, it’s the radio that lets me know.  And it’s not that I have the radio on all the time.  I can’t write with the radio on, but I can read and play Scrabble.  I don’t change the station that frequently because it’s a bother, so I often listen to talk radio or music for a week at a time.  Sure, the radio I got may be under-performing.  However, it’s my lifeline to the outside world and my one source of passive electronic entertainment.  And if that means that I have to spend ten minutes cranking it to listen to twenty minutes of music, I guess I’ll just have to be ok with that.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #60

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Hill out back
Well, I survived Winter Carnival, along with another monster snowstorm.  So far this winter, I’d say that I’ve gotten between four and five feet of snow, most of it coming in two big storms.  Luckily, I had a friend with a plow help me out this time, so I’m not having to hike in to the cabin.  There’s no way I’m moving that much snow again.  I’d rather hike than shovel.

Last week I house-sat for some friends of mine who live in Saranac Lake.  It was glorious to have running hot water, fast internet and unlimited electricity.  Out of the three though, I would still take hot water over the other two.

While I was there, I looked at their bookshelf, and saw a few books on bees.  I remembered that they have bee hives, and I started to flip through the books they had.  And of course, I now have an idea in my head for this coming spring and summer.  Hopefully, this is one idea that will actually be beneficial in a number of ways.

I am definitely getting a bee hive.  Last summer I wrote about bees and how interesting I think they are.  And last spring I was going to make maple syrup, but didn’t get my act together in time to get a harvest of sap.  The bees are going to be a good mix of trying to produce more off the land, getting a natural sweetener to use, and maybe helping out nature a little bit.  Plus, my garden could use more than a little help.

I’m going to start off with one hive, but if it goes well this first year, I know I’ll get another one next spring.  It’s kind of weird to be thinking about bees in the middle of winter, when there’s a foot or two of snow on the ground, but I am actually really excited to get going on this.

In addition to the honey, I’m hoping the bees will be beneficial to my apple trees.  After last year’s lack of apples due to the odd weather back in March, I hope that this is the year I can spend some time on the trees and clean them up.  Add bees into the mix, and I think the apple trees are going to be looking good.

I’m excited about this stuff because this is the kind of thing that can help get me through the winter.  Thinking about the nice days when you can work outside in a t-shirt and shorts and the long hours of daylight definitely bring a ray of optimism into my view.  The days are noticeably longer, my stove isn’t burning as much wood to keep the cabin warm most days, and the little birds at the feeders are still pretty fat for this time of year.

I can’t wait to add bees into this mix.  They’ll be happy and well fed on apple blossoms and blueberry flowers.  And the plants should be thriving with the steady supply of pollinators.  And I will be basking in the sweetness of all their hard work.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #56

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Red Breasted Nut Hatch
The sun is slowly creeping up over Whiteface, turning the sky into a mixture of pastel blue, deep purple and burnt orange.  The icicles hanging down in front of the big window reflect the colors as the first chickadees of the morning start to come to the bird feeders.  Herbie and Ed are both on the couch, heads darting back and forth.  The view out the window looks like a Bob Ross painting.  Soft lines and happy little trees everywhere.

The January thaw is upon us here in the Adirondacks.  It’s a nice little break to have temperatures above freezing, but the rain that’s coming surely is not welcome.  Over the last couple of days, I’ve lost almost a foot of snow to the warm, humid air, but I’m not complaining about that.  There’s still plenty of the white stuff on the ground.

So much snow, in fact, that my driveway is no longer drivable.  I’ve been parking at the bottom for over a week now.  There’s obviously a pretty big downside to this, but also a few perks.  I’ve gotten good at not forgetting anything when I leave, and shoveling a hundred yards of driveway is definitely preferable to shoveling a quarter mile of driveway.  Also, the driveway is steep enough and snowy enough for me to ride the sled down to the car.  So even when I have to haul groceries or water up, I at least get a sled ride in exchange.  It’s really not a bad trade.

I called the plow guy back in October, and he said he couldn’t do my driveway this year because he got stuck several times last winter.  I naively thought that I would be able to keep up with the shoveling for the season, and even after the big storm the day after Christmas, I was able to keep the driveway open.  Sure, it was just wide enough for my car to get through, but that’s all I needed.  Then it snowed more.  Everyday day, in fact, and it got to the point where my car just wouldn’t make it up the driveway anymore.

The road I live on is about two miles long.  The first mile is paved, then it turns to dirt all the way out to my place.  The school bus turns around at the end of the pavement, so the town doesn’t bother plowing my end of the road every time it snows.  They only plow it every couple of weeks, regardless of how much snow there is.  This is an annoyance to be sure, but so far I haven’t been stranded out at my cabin.

I noticed last winter that the town plow would catch the end of my driveway and never leave me a snow bank.   This year, however, the first couple of times they plowed they left didn’t go to the end of my driveway, and instead left about fifty or sixty feet of road unplowed that I had to drive through or shovel.  It’s not that much to shovel, but it took me more than six hours to shovel after the Christmas storm and having to clear out that extra fifty feet was a task I really didn’t feel like completing.

This last time they plowed though, the driver must have seen my car parked just off the road in the driveway.  He backed the plow truck into my driveway and cleared that fifty feet of snow.  It was a relief to sled down there yesterday and know that my car was in the clear.  I don’t know if they did it to help me out.  But either way, it’s that little helping hand that locals give each other that makes me love the Adirondacks.

Cabin Life – # 55

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Black-capped chickadee through a dirty window
I woke up this morning, as usual, buried by animals.  Ed was lying on my chest, Herbie was at my shoulder flicking me in the face with his tail, and Pico was on my left, resting his head on my open hand.  It was nice and warm in the cabin even though I hadn’t gotten up all night to feed the stove, and I would have been content to lay there for a while before getting out of bed.

I thought about how my car was buried in a snow bank halfway up the driveway and how it’s going to take an hour or so to get it free.  I thought about how I’m still not done shoveling more than a week after our first big snowstorm.  I thought about how nice the bed felt.  Then Ed stretched and farted, and I jumped out of bed more quickly than I would have liked.  Pico and Herbie didn’t wait around in the danger zone either.

I fed the animals looked out the big window.  It seems like it is getting light a little bit later, but the reflection of the snow definitely helps the pre-dawn light to shine a bit brighter.  I checked the seed levels in the two bird feeders and decided that they don’t need to be filled today, but that I probably will fill them, just to put off shoveling my car out for another few minutes.

The feeders have been active this winter.  Last year, I had mostly black-capped chickadees, with an occasional visitor such as a house finch or blue jay.  But this year, there is an almost constant presence of chickadees, and white- and red-breasted nuthatches.  And from what I have observed, the red-breasted nuthatches are, well,  jerks.

All three species are pretty small birds, able to fit in the palm of your hand.  But the red-breasted nuthatches are the smallest, with the chickadees in the middle and the white-breasted nuthatches being about the same size as the largest of the chickadees.

There are two feeders, each with two sides to feed on.  At any given time there may be a couple of chickadees on one of the feeders, but then a red-breasted nuthatch will fly in and take over one of their spots.  Even when the other feeder has no birds on it, the reds will chase off a chickadee.  The white-breasted nuthatches don’t seem to be involved in this and generally take off before the reds have a chance to run them off.  The chickadees always share the feeders.

Even though I’m fairly short, I’ve never suffered from “little man syndrome,” that particular attitude short guys can get where they feel the need to overcompensate for their lack of height.  They like to start bar fights for no reason and generally see everyone as a threat.  I think this is what’s happening with the red-breasted nuthatches.  They’re small, so they’re just kind of overcompensating.  They’re not violent, but they’re not passive either.  The other birds seem to have figured out that this is just the way it is and they don’t bother fighting back.  They just get out of the way.

I know that if these birds thought that the seed in the feeders was a limited resource, they would guard and protect the feeders.  But because they know that there is ample food for all, there shouldn’t be that much competition.  I like having the variety of birds that come to the feeder.  It’s interesting to me and it’s the perfect reality TV for the cats.  I like watching them sift through the seed for their favorites.  I like watching them take an impossibly small seed and grip it in their feet to peck it open.   But I like it even more when all the birds can linger in peace eight inches from my window.