What Happened to the Pats?

No, I am not referring to the New England Patriots, I am referring to New England’s famous game bird, the Ruffed Grouse. Locals call them “Pa’tridge” or “Pats” for short. Although never especially populous in our area, they now seem to have disappeared entirely. What happened? 

         As with any wild animal, suitable habitat is needed for food, breeding and survival. Pats favor old orchards, poplar, spruce and berries, none of which are found in abundance on our property. In past years we have done a series of clear-cuts with one of the goals being to diversify the wildlife habitat and promote population growth for species like Ruffed Grouse. It does not seem to have worked, at least as far as Pats are concerned.

         I am told that the once abundant population of Ruffed Grouse in the Champlain Valley of Vermont has declined to the point that they are no longer viable for hunting. Some there are blaming a virus.  

         Predators are a likely culprit. Back 50 or 60 years ago, there were a lot fewer predators here in New England: farmers shot hawks to prevent them from killing their chickens; ditto foxes. The coyote population in New England, non-existent 30 years ago, has exploded.

         But the one “predator” that may be most responsible for the demise of the Pa’tridge are wild turkeys. Ruffed Grouse are ground nesters, and wild turkeys are ground feeders. If a turkey scouring the ground for insects happened upon a grouse nest, it would not hesitate to eat the eggs. Although native throughout the United States, wild turkeys were hunted to extinction in New England; then 50 years ago a flock of turkeys were brought from Tennessee and released in southern Vermont. They throve, and today we see flocks of them everywhere.

         So the answer to the question is probably a combination of all these factors: habitat, disease, predators, and competition from wild turkey have decimated the Pat population in our area. Fortunately, there are other areas, including northern New Hampshire, Maine, and the upper Midwest, where Ruffed Grouse populations remain healthy. For us hunters, however, that means a long trip in order to pursue one of the craftiest, most challenging upland game birds in America.

                                                               Submitted by JMLjr

                                                               October 7, 2020

Talking to the Wind

I don’t mind talking to the wind

Going for a walk, and have her listen in

Just like my dog, my companion, or a friend

I don’t mind talking to the wind

Sometimes, while I’m conversing with a mate

The words from my mouth, plain evaporate

They don’t hear, a word I have to say

It feels like, I’m stood up on a date

Nature, she doesn’t act that way with me

Forever there to listen, and mostly quietly

Not there to rate my tears, my quips, my songs

A spirit ever-present, just follows me along

Some say I’m talking to myself

Or on a wireless, at chat with someone else

But I’m just out walking, not caring what you think

It simply the wind’s, acquaintance that I seek

Sometimes I am silent, feeling for a breeze

Checking out a waterfall or creaking of the trees

But mostly it’s words, flying from my mouth

True, false or otherwise, all the same to spout

I don’t mind talking to the wind

In my brain, it’s somehow programed in

Freedom for all topics, mostly happy things

I don’t mind talking to the wind

SIL

2018

Keeping a Calm Mind

Even after reading all of Wikipedia's sixteen chapters on what a blog is, I'm still not sure. It sounds like anything goes, within reason. Let's see, I think that I'll rule out politics, sex and taxes. What's left? I might as well ramble.

A few years ago I happened to hear on the radio that an internationally known speaker had just given a talk at Middlebury College. "Wow", I thought, "I didn't even know that he came to New England, let alone Vermont." So I started looking him up online. He has his own website and many of his lengthy talks are available. I watched several of them. I've never been particularly good at concentrating in the classroom or sitting through a long sermon but I stuck with the videos. At the end of one of his hour long talks, he summarized everything about his worldly (and beyond) outlook in four simple words: "Keep a calm mind." Now that's something that I can remember!  Accomplishing it however, takes some effort. Some people meditate; that's hard. Some walk in the woods; I do that. Others seek spiritual guidance; why not?

Back when we were growing up at Highglee, the MacDowell Colony would ring a school bell in the early evening to call the colonists in from their cabins for dinner. The peel of the bell would hang suspended in the valley and then drop off into silence once again. A little nearer sunset, the bell birds would begin to sing, leaving their notes hanging in the air. After sunset, all would be quiet again with me still sitting on the screen porch. If I were ever asked to define the term 'a sense of place', this would be my example. It's a gift fully imprinted on me. And gratefully accepted.  Calmness.

With all of life's ups and downs, it's not realistic to expect to always be calm. That might even be boring! Besides, we have to get a few things done out on the streets, too. But what a beautiful thing it is to be calm at times and Highglee provides a perfect setting for that. So keep calm and carry on!

SIL, Justice of the Peace