Life at the Lake

a diary of living at a small lowland lake


Early moonrise over Lake Ketchum

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and s-integrator

Reads, "It's like an abbreviated diary—what's important, though, is to write a little every day."


Not my favorite comic strip by a long shot, "Pardon My Planet" occasionally hits the mark dead-center, as it does today. I'm sure Samuel Pepys felt this way from time to time. (See his online diary: Pepys' Diary.)

But anybody who has ever kept a diary (I have, for over thirty years), or written a blog, will feel an odd identification with the prison scene above.

It might be captioned, "When do you get out?" And the response, "Who wants to get out?"

"Or where would I go if I got out?"

Or, "What would I do?"

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The Guess-Who Bird


My favorite bird? Why, thanks for asking. It's the __________.
[Fill in the blank with:]

a. red-winged blackbird
b. bufflehead
c. cormorant
d. variable [stet] thrush
e. coot (cute!)
f. (b)eagle
g. junco
h. woodduck
i. kinglet

It is okay to modify your answer according to the:

1. season
2. cloud cover
3. time of day (or night, perhaps)
4. water temperature
5. air same
6. wind flow


Tomorrow, or some day soon.

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Not yesterday's deer, a whitetail, but one from summer on a river


Walking our Labs yesterday, we entered the wooded Dorsey reach and, coming down a grade, encountered a huge deer with a great white upturned tail. The dogs were quickly after it. He (obviously a buck, though I don't recall any antlers, so I might be wrong) reached a game trail in a couple of astonishingly high bounds and took a right, but slipped in the loose gravel on the blacktop and fell to its side in the scrub. Quickly it was on its feet and gone.

I whistled at the dogs and—oddly, this—they halted and turned back to me. I was certain they would persist in the chase and disobey my command; maybe they really didn't want to pursue the deer any farther, only follow a hot scent growing slowly colder—which is usually how it goes.

Whatever, it was a startling and exciting event in our tame lives. We went on, the dogs wild-eyed and panting hard, and Norma and I turned to each other, and began to recount the event, as we always do when something happens, and not until a few moments later did we both realize that it was a white-tailed deer, which is highly unusual, in this land of smaller black-tailed and mule deer.

So the sighting was a special treat.

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