There is no way to tell if this eagle is the same one that has terrorized the opreys and their babies in the nest, but we have spotted no conflict in the skies for over a week now.
This eagle was found by My French Friend Janou, whose house is on another area of the peninusula but not that far away if you’re an eagle.
He’s pretty chewed up, which could have happened after he died. Did an osprey finally take him out? Was it old age? Another eagle? We’ll never know.
But what I do know is there were three ospreys in their nest yesterday, meaning at least one chick survived an eagle’s attempt to eat him.
And also yesterday morning, while I was watering my little garden, I watched one of our ospreys circle the eagles’ nesting area eleven times, crying out constantly. Was it the osprey version of a victory lap? A challenge to come out and fight? An expression of joy?
None of my Googling held the answer, but we have been amazed at how quiet things are now here in the cove.
Meet two boxes of Red Havens. Aren’t they gorgeous?
In early June I put my name on a list to order these two boxes. The Peach Man came through, so here is my allotment for the summer. The other varieties are nonexistent, due to the various weather crises of the winter and spring.
Banjo Man offered to help peel them with me.
Twelve pints of canned peaches, four bags in the freezer, one peach cobbler…and we were done. It will be a strange summer without apricots and peaches, but I’ve loaded up on cherries–there are plenty of bags of pitted cherries in the freezer–and even some rhubarb.
Three of my four Texans headed back to their home state Monday morning. There is much to be done before the official start of school. You can see the Funny Grandson pretending to cry.
It wasn’t long ago that the tears were real, but he is almost fourteen now and has outgrown sobbing for his grandmother and the lake.
Five weeks of family time was such a gift. Daughter Nancy had a ball, despite coming down with bronchitis.
A selfie at the 4th of July parade.Hanging out with Amber on a summer afternoon.Dinner at the Rusty Moose before dropping her off at the airport to fly home.
Amber was hit with Covid last week–diagnosed at Urgent Care–but no one else in the house became sick. We all felt terrible for her. And had no idea where it came from.
Will is still here and studying all day, every day, for his final test: English as a Second Language. He takes the 4.5 hour test in Spokane next Monday afternoon and then, to celebrate, we are taking him to the “Van Gogh Experience” and dinner.
He will fly back to Texas July 31st. He has a 2nd grade classroom to decorate and teacher meetings begin August 8.
My freezer is emptier, which is lovely. My pantry counter is, too. We won’t run out of groceries any time soon, but I am happy that everyone ate so much. Having a teenaged boy here meant that food disappeared at a steady pace.
This grandmother was pleased to feed him.
We’re sorry it’s over, but grateful to have been together for so long. How lucky we are!
The crowd was bigger than ever, as was their enthusiasm. And the sun was shining–hallelujah!!!
We spent the afternoon (a) napping, (b) sitting in the sun on the dock and (c) sitting in the shade on the dock.
The Funny Grandson spent all afternoon frolicking in the water with the neighbor boys who were here visiting their grandparents for the long holiday weekend.
Then I grilled burgers and hot dogs. Tradition, right? Pasta salad and baked beans completed the menu. We decided to hold off on the strawberry shortcake until later on.
Note: the strawberry shortcake dessert has been postponed until tonightdue to the consumption of many, many hot dogs and burgers.
Will built a pre-fireworks campfire at sunset. The fireworks were fabulous, as was our view from the dock. Boats and cars honked their horns to say thanks for the show. My favorite night of the year did not disappoint.
Meet our eagle. This spring he has enjoyed perching on trees close to the house and terrorizing the ospreys nesting on the west side of the house.
We’re in the middle of an ongoing ospreys vs. eagle war.
When this picture was taken one recent afternoon, the eagle was making the ospreys absolutely crazy with worry. In fact, starlings and sparrows and robins joined in to shriek their panic to anyone listening. We assume the eagle is after the osprey babies, tasty morsels in a nearby nest.
He refused to be intimidated and sat there waiting for an opportunity that never came. As usual, the ospreys tried to chase him away. He ignored them, but eventually gave up. For the moment. I think he enjoys causing trouble.
Another evening the ospreys and eagle were fishing, soaring in circles over the lake. The eagle dropped his recently caught fish and the osprey wasted no time trying to retrieve it. War ensued and eventually the eagle reclaimed his meal. From what I’ve read, eagles enjoy swooping in on ospreys who have just caught a fish to them drop it. Then the eagle grabs the floating fish and takes off. An easy meal, and called “pirating” by folks who know such things. This time the osprey attempted the maneuver. How they avoided colliding I’ll never know, but there were several close calls.
Thursday night we gathered around our first campfire on the beach and witnessed an epic battle. The eagle once again swooped over the osprey nest and one of the ospreys lost his mind. He went into full “attack mode”, chasing that eagle over our heads at full speed. The eagle rolled over on his back, talons up, ready to defend itself. Screaming, they disappeared into the trees on the eagle’s side of the cove. Long minutes later the osprey zoomed back to his nest.
They continue to fight over fishing rights, but we haven’t seen the eagle perched on one of our trees lately.
Friday afternoon this guy showed up:
The huge heron stood on the neighbor’s dock for at least thirty minutes, maybe longer. He looked perfectly content to gaze out at the lake and was not the least bit bothered by passing boats. This was a first for me, as I’ve never seen one so close.
Otherwise our little cove remains quiet–just us, the birds and the deer–but we hope for the return of neighbors for the 4th of July weekend.
Sometimes you just need hot fudge on your ice cream. The recipe came to me from my friend Sharon, in Massachusetts. It’s always a much-anticipated treat.
Here’s a link to a website that shares the recipe, too:
Banjo Man couldn’t wait to spend the night in the cabin with his sons and grandson. Nothing would stop him, especially not the predicted freezing temps. He had a wood stove, sleeping bags, a freshly made pot of chicken soup and plenty of firewood, so what could go wrong?
Photo by John.
A hail storm????
Photo by Will.Photo by Ben.
For reasons unknown to mankind, Banjo Man chose to sleep in the unheated bunkhouse and the Funny Grandson chose to sleep in the unheated bunkhouse loft. Ben and Will chose to put their cots close to the woodstove.
Photo by Will.
When they arrived home Sunday morning they wanted hot drinks, warm beds and hot showers (not necessarily in that order).
Father’s Day was very, very quiet.
Amber made beans (her specialty), I put together a macaroni and cheese casserole and Ben’s favorite banana cream pudding in a trifle dish. The guys eventually woke up and, recovered from “winter camping”, ate a grilled chicken dinner and played a few rounds of Mexican Train dominoes.
Needless to say, any more camping up at the cabin will happen when the weather finally warms up (although the forecast is still for much cooler than normal days).
The Funny Grandson once again jumped into the frigid waters of Lake Pend Oreille immediately after arriving Tuesday afternoon.
He made some heavy panting noises as he emerged from the water and swam back to the dock. Undeterred, he kept jumping back into the water. The following morning he was back at it, as if it was August and 96 degrees out.
Ah, youth…
He spent time resting in the sun, as you see in the picture, in order to warm up in between leaps into the cold water. Nothing would stop him.
Yesterday Amber and I headed to town for opening day of The Peach Man’s fruit stand. This season will be different, sadly. Apricots, peaches and plums will be in short supply, as the cold spring hit the crops really hard. In other words, I won’t be making apricot jam this summer. We bought several huge bags of Bing cherries, so there might be cherry jam. Amber has volunteered to pit as many cherries as I need to make a batch or two.
I’ve heard a rumor that “the guys” are camping up at the cabin tomorrow night. Banjo Man’s perfect Father’s Day morning–pancakes and bacon in the isolated mountain man cave–is going to come true.
Tomorrow’s weather: a low of 45 and a high of 55. With a 45% chance of rain. This is joyful news, as it means Banjo Man will have a reason to fire up the wood stove.
Amber and I are heading to water aerobics this morning and the guys are heading up to the woods to get firewood and make up their sleeping cots.
Yes, we were in Costco. Banjo Man wanted to have the famous hot dogs for lunch, which we did. It was pretty busy on a Sunday afternoon, but not insanely crowded the way it was before Memorial Day. We had a great time, despite my reservations about my husband’s patience.
But he had a ball. I actually took a picture of the back of the car as he was loading up our purchases, but it no longer exists in my phone. Sigh. Trust me, it was an impressive sight.
It was fun to shop knowing that for the next month we will have plenty of people to eat everything we bought.
Will texted that he was delayed in Denver due to a storm, so off we went to Kohl’s due to a 30% off coupon and Banjo Man’s constant need for new clothes. He has worn his old clothes to death and lately I have been refusing to leave the house with him due to poor wardrobe choices.
These sandals are for Will. I texted him the picture and he picked the brown ones.
Five shirts, one pair of slacks and one pair of sandals later, we were back in the car with lots of time to kill.
“Let’s park over to the side and take naps,” Banjo Man suggested.
“And look like we’ve made a suicide pact? No way,” was my response. So we broke into a container of Costco cherry danish pastries and shared one.
On to the Spokane Valley Mall and Macy’s, where I hope to find comfy shoes. My feet were killing me, but what else is new? Macy’s didn’t have my Easy Spirit clogs, so I staggered to a nearby shoe store and had no luck there, either.
On to the airport, which was what we had been waiting for. The plane was only a little over an hour late, so we collected Will and his suitcase and headed back to the lake (with one quick stop for sandwiches and Jimmy John’s).
Arrived home a little after 9 pm, oh my goodness. We managed to get the freezer/refrigerated stuff into the house and left all the other things to be unloaded today.
Pot roast, hamburger, beans, croissants, olives, salad dressing, coffee, pesto sauce….it goes on and on.
The Funny Grandson arrives tomorrow afternoon. I hope he’s hungry!
Daughter Nancy sent pictures Monday of owls sitting on our Rhode Island patio. They were there for at least an hour, she said, and were not the least bit disturbed by her taking pictures through the window.
I think they miss their tree, the one that fell on our house a few years ago. An owl used to sit on the largest horizontal branch and survey the world for breakfast chipmunks.
Last Wednesday Banjo Man came home from town and told me he’d seen a moose walking down the middle of Highway 200, across from the gas station that used to sell ice cream cones and only a mile or so from Walmart.
Highway 200, though a state road, is only two lanes. And can be busy.
“Are you kidding me?” could be my only response.
“No,” he insisted. “Cars pulled over and slowed down and everyone gave it a chance to decide what it was going to do. I was too busy driving to take a picture. And it ended up standing by a barbed wire fence. I don’t know what happened.”
Oh, if I had been with him we’d know what happened. We would have pulled over and watched. Taken pictures. My shock and awe and commentary would have known no bounds.
“It was just like Northern Exposure,” Banjo Man declared. One of our favorite shows, the opening scene shows a moose strolling down the main street of the small Alaska town.
is there any more pie? 