A Pine Martin In My Bedroom

     I have been blogging about my first experiences seeing a Pine Martin in 2013.  Today’s blog is the exciting finale to the story:

        As you can no doubt tell, the photo above is fake.  It is a poor composite I constructed in Photoshop, but it does pretty much show what I saw this morning at 4:45, when I raised my head off of my pillow to see what all the commotion was.

        I was asleep and I heard some scratching noises.  I assumed it was the baby squirrels (I had discovered they had a nest up under the eaves of our house.  I figured they were venturing around up in the ceiling.  

        Since there was nothing I could do about it, I tried to go back to sleep.  Then I was roused by our cat, who was jumping around by the window, and knocking off papers and books that were sitting on the short filing cabinet below the window.  

        I raised my head off of the pillow once again to yell at the cat, who seemed mighty interested in the curtain, or what was behind it.  Surely, I thought, those baby squirrels hadn’t gotten in through the window.  At that point, a head peaked out from behind the curtain--it was the marten we had been seeing around the house.

        I usually have the window shut overnight, because when it is open, the train whistle that originates across the river and valley, over a mile away, sounds like it is coming from just outside our house.  Over the last few nights, despite the train whistle, I left the window open, because it has been so warm.

        We do have a screen on the window, but it is held by some slots, and the marten managed to slide it out of the slot and squeeze through the crack on the loose side.  Now, it was hiding behind the curtain, and Lucifer, our cat was stalking it, even thought it was a lot bigger than she was.

        I jumped out of bed, my mind racing through all the possible solutions of how to get the marten out of the house.  The marten, who by this time was feeling outnumbered, to his credit was trying to get back outside, but couldn’t get the window screen open.

       The cat jumped, and the marten responded by leaping down to my guitar case, then the floor and finally behind a dresser.  Lucifer followed, and as the marten vocalized various hissing and growling moans at the cat, I tried disparately to get the screen out of the window, so that if the marten got back on the windowsill, it could escape back outside.

        I yelled at the cat to get away from the marten, and finally got her out of the bedroom, at the same time I opened the door to our balcony, thinking maybe I could get the marten to go out that way.

        In the end that’s what happened.  Once the cat was gone, the marten came out from behind the dresser, and I herded it out into my office, and seeing the open door, it scampered out to the balcony, and I closed the door behind it.

        Needless to say, it was a while before, I calmed down enough to go back to sleep.  Life in the frontier is not always as relaxing and stress-free as urban dwellers often think.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

The Pine Martin Gets Closer

     A couple of days ago I blogged about seeing my first Pine Martin in 2013.  Well, that wasn’t really the end of my martin story.   A couple of weeks later, I had another blog about the martin:

          Some of the critters we have around here are sure publicity hungry.  On May 23, I wrote about spotting my first marten along our trail.  I took its photo and posted it on on my blog.  They are rather secretive creatures that you don’t normally see.  It wasn’t even in the type of forest where they usually live.  

            I suspect this one got hooked on the international publicity, because the other day, it had scampered  out of the woods, and was running around on the branches of the birch tree that sits 10 feet (3 m.) from our house.  I assumed it was interested in getting its picture taken again, so I obliged it.

Take look at my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

At The Whistlestop Gallery

     McBride is known as sort of an “Artist Town” because of the many talented artists that live in the area.  The McBride Train Station features The Whistlestop Gallery, where many of the paintings and other works of the local artisans are on sale.

    On Wednesday, a film crew from a Prince George television station traveled to McBride to film a piece about McBride and the Whistlestop Gallery.  I was asked to show up as one of the contributing artists to be interviewed.

    While one of the Whistlestop officials was being interviewed, I was standing out in the lobby awaiting my turn.  As I stood there, a tourist couple came in and were looking at some of the brochures on display.  Being a friendly local resident, I asked the lady tourist where they had come from.

    She replied that they lived on Vancouver Island.  She then told me that they had driven up to the university in Prince George to visit their daughter.  She added that now they were on their way to Clearwater, to see a friend who lived there.

    Then she said that long ago she had a high school teacher in Victoria who had inspired her to pursue an education in biology, who she thought had later moved to McBride.  

    I asked her what was his name, thinking I might know him.

    “Mr. Foster” was her reply.

    “Mr. Foster?” I surprisingly remarked,  “He was my next door neighbor for 35 years.”

    Then it was her time to be surprised, and we talked about the Fosters, who had just recently moved down to Victoria on Vancouver Island.

    The incident shows what a small world it is, especially for people who live in a very small community.

    My interview with the TV presenter, must have went okay, because I later learned that after I had left, he bought the print of my painting of Mt. Robson, I was holding up, as I explained my painting technique of painting just one two inch square every day.

    I also learned that the woman tourist who I was talking to, bought one of my art cards.

You can see my other paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Seeing My First Pine Martin

         The following is from a blog I posted in May of 2013.  It was after a day when I saw an unusual number of wild critters.

        Yesterday, was another one of those rare days, when all sorts of wildlife were out galavanting around in the woods.  I blogged about the black bear we saw on our morning walk, and when we started out on our afternoon walk, we were wary of coming across the bear again, so I thought I would make some noise as we walked so it could hear us coming.

        Usually the late afternoon walk, I take some oats and corn along to scatter where the trail runs beside our pond, to feed the ducks (and inadvertently) the deer.  After I had emptied the plastic jar of the oats and corn, I just drummed on it’s bottom and whistled a happy tune to alert any bear as we continued down our trail. 

        Shortly upon entering the woods, I saw some commotion, and watched as a mother moose, and calf retreated deeper into the bush.  When we got to the field where we had seen the bear, it was empty, but a big hawk or raptor took flight.  When we re-entered the woods at the far field, we scared off a spruce grouse (a chicken-like bird).  

        Like I was saying, I was trying to make noise kept vigil as we walked, and through the high brush I saw movement in a tree.  When I got a clearer view, I could see a dark furry animal, but wasn’t sure what it was.  It was bigger than a cat, and it had a really furry tail.  I took two photos, and when I got home I looked it up in my BC Mammal book.   I decided it was an American Pine Marten.

        Martens are pretty elusive animals.  I have never before seen one in the bush.  They eat voles, insects, squirrels, and have even been know to finish off an apple pie that had been left in a window to cool.

        Seeing a marten, was really a special treat for me.  They are usually only found in deep mature conifer forests.  This one was in a mixed forest mostly aspen, cottonwood, and birch trees, with only a scattering of spruce and balsam.   They are a sign of a healthy mature forest.

        Pine Martins are prized for their fur, and are sought after by trappers.  Hopefully, this one will have a long life in the neighborhood.

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Merlin Bird ID App: Early Birds

     Last night at 3:45 AM, I was awaken when my wife fell, on the way to the bathroom.  Still very groggy from being suddenly awaken, I got up to help her.  I helped her get back on her feet, and supported her as she walked to the bathroom, then back to the bedroom.  

    This middle of the night activity, woke and excited Kona, and so I carried her outside so she could pee.  When I got outside, there was already a bit of light in the sky (we have very long days this time of year.)   What really surprised me when I got out there, was the number of birds that were tweeting and singing their songs.

    I am used to hearing this very early morning bird chorus in June, but it is usually during my half-sleep when I was in the bedroom.  Last night was different because all the songs were louder, since I was outside. 

    Instead of just waiting around for Kona to pee, I went upstairs and got my iPhone.  On the phone I have the Merlin Bird ID App, which, when you turn it on, identifies the different bird sounds going on.  I only had the app on for three minutes, and I was very surprised at how many birds were out their singing their hearts out in the early morning.  Above you see the birds the Merlin app recorded.

    I was especially happy to see the American Redstart and the Western Tanager on the list.  They are such beautiful birds that I hadn’t actually seen for a few years.  I am glad that they are still around.  

    Not being a hardcore birder, there are only a few birds that I can identify by their songs.  The Merlin app is wonderful for doing so, for you.  

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Satellite TV: Doing Everything Yourself

     We live outside a very isolated tiny rural village in the Interior of BC.  Because of our isolation and the small size of the Village, the services that are normally available to people are non-existent.  My wife and I have for decades, depended upon satellite TV for our entertainment.  

    Normally people who have satellite TV, just call and have a technician come to the house to aim and hook up the dish to the satellite.  Living where we do, with no satellite TV technician around, means that I had to set up and aim the dish at the satellite myself.  This was no easy feat.  A technician would have an instrument to make it easy to find the satellite.  I had nothing, I had to use trial and error to aim my dish.

    To do so, I had to get a TV set and the satellite receiver out there beside the dish, so I could hook them up to the dish and as I slowly moved the dish up and down and back and forth, I could tell on the TV, when I found the satellite signal.  The only area where I could place the dish to hit the satellite, was on the far edge of the paddock of my barn.  

    So to find the satellite, I first had to string out a long extension cord from the house out to the paddock to power the TV and my satellite receiver.   I had to put my big bulky TV (this was before flat-screen TVs) into my wheel barrow, and wheel it out to the satellite dish.

    I’m sure that it looked a bit ridiculous to those people driving down our road to see me sitting in the pasture with a big TV set beside me, as I scanned the skies.  

    I have had to go out there and readjust finding the satellite several different times over the years.  One time, after frustrating hours of searching for the satellite and finding nothing, I eventually discovered that the short cable I had used to connect the dish to the satellite receiver, was broken, which was why I never got any signal. 

     I am always amazed and so very relieved, when I have eventually found the signal up in the sky.

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Weeding The Garlic

     Because of a soil infection in our garden, we are no longer able to grow garlic or onions.  Fortunately, we have good friends that allow us to grow garlic in a section of their garden.  This of course comes with a moral obligation; we feel obliged to keep our garlic patch looking neat and tidy.

    Last Saturday, while visiting, I took a look at our garlic and was embarrassed to see how weeds had taken over, so yesterday I spent two hours pulling weeds out of our section of their garden.  It was not a very pleasant job, since they seem to have a lot of mosquitoes around their place.  The whole time I was weeding I wore netting over my head and wore gloves, to keep the pesky insects  from getting their blood meal from me.

    Every time I have to do a lot of weeding, I think back to my childhood.  The task of weeding in our family garden often fell to me.  It was a job I hated.   Indiana summers are hot and muggy, and just spending an hour or so out weeding the garden was a miserable job.  The misery was compounded because within sight of our house was a country club swimming pool.   As I sweated pulling weeds in our garden, I could hear the kids at the country club, splashing, yelling, and having a refreshing swim.  

    Fortunately, the hatred towards gardens that I acquired during my childhood, diminished as I became an adult.

Take a look at my paintings"  davidmarchant2.ca