Staring into sunrise

Summer 2007 ~

The morning chill was my wake-up call; able to get dressed and grab my camera without waking Julie, I headed for the river. The sun was just rising, and I wanted to meet it.

There is an island on the St. Croix River near Interstate Park.  With rapids in the foreground and geese in the distance, it was the perfect place for a Great Blue Heron to join me… staring into sunrise.

(Click any image to enlarge it.)

© 2007 - 2011 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Minnehaha Falls

Summer, 2011 ~

The water dropped over Minnehaha Falls with such power that clouds of vapor were forced upward; it was a heavy, hair-lifting breeze that you could actually see, because of the moisture it carried.

They call it a creek… but I think it much more powerful than that.

© 2011 Mike Anderson. All rights reserved.

Visit from a deer friend

Summer 2011 ~

Finding the time to get onto the river or into the woods has been difficult this year. So, Sunday afternoon, I was most pleased when something moving made me look up from my computer, and out the office window. Something had moved through the tall grass in the meadow. I grabbed my camera and went up to the deck to wait for the critter to surface. I didn’t wait long, as a doe came into the clearing near a tree, and lifted her head above the brush.

When you haven’t had time to go visit old friends, it is nice when they come to visit you.

© 2011 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.

Reeds of red

Autumn, 2009 ~

Both the land and water are wonderful artists; when they collaborate, though, their works can be amazing.  This day, I came across a large patch of willow branches that had been bleached of their color by the receding water... and Mother Nature adds yet another fine work to her gallery.

© 2009 – 2011, Mike Anderson. All rights reserved.

Turtle-saurus

Summer, 2009 ~

In this part of the country, I'm told a snapping turtle can grow to thirty or forty pounds.  This one was sunning himself on a rock in the middle of the Crow River.  It looked as if he was outgrowing even his impressively large shell.  That, along with his long tail and threatening claws, made it easy to imagine that his lineage could be traced directly to the age of dinosaurs. 

© 2009 – 2011, Mike Anderson. All rights reserved.

Final approach

Late winter, 2011 ~

In mid-flight, Trumpeter Swans soar with grace.  But their landings appear less choreographed and more... well, clumsy.

After circling their landing pad several times to make sure no predators are waiting nearby, they glide toward the water that will serve as their runway. Their wings are fully extended, so as to create the maximum surface area; the wind resistance will serve to place the giant bird gently into the water.

If you look closely (click to enlarge), you'll notice that this Swan's tail feathers actually touch before its webbed feet... as if to feel the surface just before impact, and sense the precise moment to tuck into a floating position.

© 2011 Mike Anderson, St. Michael, MN. All rights reserved.

Spring blues

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Spring, 2011 ~

Some of the waterfowl we see in Minnesota spends part of its winter in the areas most affected by the BP oil spill of last year. When the herons and egrets left last fall, I worried their nesting places would be filled with toxins, and that few might survive to return.

Apparently, my worry was ill-founded; at various times this afternoon, there were groups of three to five Great Blue Herons gathering the wetland behind our house.

It is good to see you, blue.

Mike

© 2011 Mike Anderson, St. Michael, MN. All rights reserved.

Here's looking at you

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Summer, 2007 ~

As fun as it is to study the wildlife one sees while paddling the Mississippi River, it is just as fun when that wildlife studies you.

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One hot July afternoon, I passed a gaggle of geese, the younger of which found me an interesting critter to be floating along the river.

© 2007 - 2011 Mike Anderson, St. Michael, MN. All rights reserved.

Spreading his wings

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Midwinter, 2009-2010 ~
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It is amazing how swiftly the water can move, even on a channel as narrow as the Crow River, and even though the water is covered with ice. But the webbed feet of a Trumpeter Swan are equal to the fast current, allowing the birds swim in place in the open water beneath the bluff just east of town.

They gather in this spot because of the open water, and because a friend of mine, Curt Oien, helps them survive the harsh winter with handfuls of dried corn. (Fact is, Curt can go through hundreds of pounds of corn each winter, lugging it down to the riverbank in five-gallon painter’s pails.)

On this morning, the winter cold had its usual bitterness, but the air was tolerable for lack of wind. We watched the birds for nearly an hour, long enough to see the abundant grace and elegance that Trumpeters are known for.

Just as we were about to depart, the Trumpeter’s too, began to take flight… blasting their trademark salutes as if to say, “Thanks for breakfast, Curt. See you tomorrow?” I glanced back—camera at the ready—to take one more look before heading up the hill. A light snow had fallen the night before, covering the rocks and ice chunks on the opposing bank, and creating the illusion of clouds in the background. Just then, the dominant Trumpeter spread his wings in one final display of pageantry.

Mike

[Editor’s note: This photo is the winner in the wildlife category of the 2010 Crow River Organization of Water photography contest. To see other winners and runners-up, visit the C.R.O.W. website by clicking here. It is the second consecutive year that one of our photographs has been so recognized; last year’s winner was our shot of a deer, “Cooling Off in the Crow River.”]

© 2010-2011 Mike Anderson, St. Michael, MN. All rights reserved.

It's not a big place, but it's all mine

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Summer 2010 ~
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I positioned my canoe near a flock of Pelicans that were arguing about who should get the better of resting places among the rocks and cattails. The process appeared quite complex; one bird would bump another from the nicest roost, then that Pelican would then jump to a nearby log... pushing yet another bird from that spot. And so the process continued as the larger and stronger birds jockeyed for position, and the smaller and weaker ones moved aside to lesser locations.

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Throughout this take-and-give negotiation, there was one wise old bird who realized life was too short to worry about a proverbial pecking order. He had found a roost that was nothing special, but adequate; indeed, his body dwarfed the stone on which he sat. But while the other Pelicans spent their afternoon fighting over the best places to rest, he was content to spend the time… resting.
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© 2010 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.