New Artwork--Grey Wolf and More

Here it is, the end of November, and I still haven't finished the Alaska blog series. Shame on me! When my schedule gets messed up I fall out of the habit--or just forget about it completely. The search for our lost dog, Mr. Pickles, took up an enormous amount of time this summer, and I did a record 18 shows this year, so I guess I should cut myself some slack.

While I haven't written my blog in months, I have been getting some artwork done, so there's that at least. Seven new pieces since February is pretty good, and I've already sold two of them.  You can order reproductions from my website, www.marierust.com, or contact me directly if you're interested in an original: 734-223-8612, or email, marie@beartrackstudiosllc.com

There are so many cool things I haven't been able to write about since I got so bogged down with Alaska. One of them that I will write about down the line is a day I spent at the Corkscrew Swamp Audubon Sanctuary in southern Florida. What a place! Largest stand of old growth cypress in the world. Right outside the visitor center was this gorgeous male Pileated Woodpecker, going to town on a pine in the evening light. I was so excited to finally get some great shots. This piece sold at the first show I had it at.

"Woody"  
 Pileated Woodpecker, 8x10. Original SOLD, reproductions available

I have been reluctant to do the same subjects over and over, but I've decided that if that's what sells, that's what I should do. There are iconic subjects that are universally popular, and if I want to make a living at this I need to keep doing those subjects. While I like doing new things, Chestnut-sided Warblers are not a particularly popular subject. So I went back to the Common Loon well, a subject I hadn't done in about seven years. They are difficult birds to get good shots of, and I put this together from several different images. I also like the stippling effect for the water, and will probably carry this over to many other pieces.

"Between Dark and Light"
Common Loon, 20 x 10, framed to 24 x 14, $800.00, reproductions available

I did a number of shows in the Great Plains this spring and early summer, and felt I needed a bison for the prairie. There's another trip I need to write about--Missouri, Oklahoma, Kansas, Iowa. I had never been in those states before and what I expected was nothing like what I found there. Rolling hills, steep cliffs, HUGE sky, spring flowers, and lots of new birds for my list. This bison was one I photographed in North Dakota, at Theodore Roosevelt National Park (another trip I haven't written about!!) in the summer of 2013. He was actually a pretty old guy, so I made him a little more robust in my piece.

"Evening Primrose"
American Bison, 23 x 15, framed to 27 x 19, $1,800.00, reproductions available.

Another denizen of the prairie, this Eastern Meadowlark was photographed in Oklahoma in March. He was perched on a disc golf basket, so I traded that for a wooden post with rusty barbed wire.

"The Troubadour"
Eastern Meadowlark, 8 x 17, framed to 12 x 21, $700.00, reproductions available

Last summer I took a trip up to Tawas Point State Park (I know, I haven't written about that either!) to get images of Piping Plovers. Living in Michigan, I had no excuse for not having seen this bird, one of the most critically endangered birds in the U.S.  The male plover is the one who cares for the young once they hatch--mom literally flies the coop, often starting her journey south.

"Mr. Mom"
Piping Plover, 10 x 8.5, framed to 14 x 12.5, $495.00, reproductions available

I belong to a Michigan birding group on Facebook, and when pictures of cranes with their colts started popping up this spring, Lisa insisted we go to the metro park where they nest so I could get some shots. Sandhill Cranes are one of the few species I've done multiple times, and a crane with her colt was one of the first originals I sold. This piece took quite a while to complete--the bigger, the exponentially longer a piece takes, plus this one has all the stippling in the nest. I just love the fuzzy little guys peering out. The day was cloudy and chilly, and the little darlings shivered when not tucked up against mom.

"Safe Harbor"
Sandhill Cranes, 19 x 13, framed to 23 x 17, $1,500.00, reproductions available

Last but not least--the grey wolf. I have had so many requests for wolves, but they are difficult subjects to find. I've seen several in the wild--most recently in Ely, MN--but the encounter was either so brief, or I didn't have my camera, that I never got shots. So Lori and I drove down to Indiana to spend an afternoon at the Wolf Park. OMG. What a place. They have several small packs, and a small herd of bison, and beautiful enclosures. The wolves are socialized (not to be confused with domesticated). You can sponsor a wolf for a year, which allows you to go into the enclosure with your wolf--supervised of course. I asked my mom for a sponsorship for Christmas. But you can still get quite close, even outside the enclosures, and I got some fantastic images, all behind wire of course.  This is the first of what I'm sure will be many wolves to come.

"The Better To See You With"
Grey Wolf, 16 x 5.5, original SOLD, reproductions available.

My hope is to finish up the Alaska trip in my next post, then start on some of my other adventures. Winter is for artwork and blogging!

Last Night at the Dassler Cabin

Isle Royale continued:

Upon our return from the Peterson's and the Edison Fisheries we had dinner, then I spent the evening sitting on the bench overlooking Tobin harbor. While it was only Monday, and the Ranger III didn't leave for Houghton until Wednesday morning, John had decided to get those of us who were leaving the island over to Rock Harbor on Tuesday. There were six of us leaving, and to get all of us and our gear to Rock Harbor would mean two trips in the skiff. We would have to leave very early Wednesday morning to get everyone there on time. So he chose the less stressful option, to ferry us to Rock Harbor Tuesday so we'd already be there for the boat's departure Wednesday morning. He secured one of the shelters at the Rock Harbor campground for us to sleep in, and we would be ferried to Rock Harbor Tuesday morning.

This meant, of course, that my work on the island was done and I'd have an extra day to explore. It also meant that Monday would be my last night at the Dassler cabin, so I wanted to take some time to sit and enjoy it. My journaling to this point had been mostly about what we'd been doing work-wise. I decided to sit and relax and take the place in for a while. Here's some of what I wrote:


So here it is, the last night at Dassler. Not sure how it happened so quickly. I am sitting on the bench that looks north across the end of Tobin Harbor. The sky is clear but hazier than it was earlier--perhaps a warm up is in the the works. The harbor is smooth and shimmering. 

Tiny, newly hatched spiders are floating everywhere on silken threads. I look up and see a pair of loons swimming slowly towards me. they dawdle in the water below, preening, foot waggling, diving. They come together and swim apart, and occasionally hoot softly to each other. A White-throated sparrow sings "Oh sweet Canada" beyond the cabin, his sharp song blending with the sound of low swells breaking on the point. I don't know that there's ever been an evening as perfect as this. 

Edwards Island (right) and Passage Island (in distance on left) from Dassler. The lighthouse on Passage is just visible to the right of the tiny island in the foreground.

Loons on Tobin Harbor.

--New cones on the spruce are soft and filled with sap. 

--No contrails mar the deep blue sky--it is absolutely, utterly flawless.

--Candy Peterson said some artists have come here and seen the accommodations and left. As if this place were about running water and electric lights.

--A seagull is perched on the Eastern-most rock of Smith Island, a splash of white on the dark rock.

--The loons linger on.

--As the sun slips closer to the horizon my heart aches. 

--If I am attacked by a wolf, please don't hurt the wolf. She is only doing what she needs to survive. We are not more important than them, despite our best efforts to convince ourselves otherwise.

--The gull has flown away.

--I look behind me and there is the half-full moon over the cabin.

Spruce cones.

Moon over Dassler cabin.

--The sun slips lower still and the chill air begins to climb the rocks.

--A breeze picks up and ruffles the surface of Superior.

--My fingernails are dirty--when was the last time I washed my hands?

--Sing me a lullaby, sweet little loons.

--The sun dips finally, fully, behind the trees and the loon--oh the loon!--begins her Northwoods song, as her partner swims past, oh so close. Thank you. A thousand times, thank you.

Next: Solo hike to Mt. Franklin and our departure.

Day One on Isle Royale

Isle Royale continued

Before we get started I want to show you a few more maps that give a better idea of where I was on the island. As I have mentioned, Isle Royale is about 40 miles long and 9 miles wide at its widest point. As I was not there to backcountry camp but to work on restoring some of the structures on the northeast end of the island, I actually saw very little of the park. Most of the cottages are along Tobin Harbor, so that is where I spent my time.

The red box shows approximately where the closeup map below is located.

Purple line shows the water route to the dock for the Dassler Cabin and the location of the cabin. When the weather's good this is the most convenient route, but it is possible to get to Rock Harbor by going down Tobin Harbor. It is about 1/4 mile hike from the docks on Tobin Harbor to Rock Harbor so that route is avoided if there's lots of stuff to haul.

We had arrived at Rock Harbor around 2:40 pm, and within a half hour I was on my way to Scoville Point and the Dassler cabin with a skiff full of food and gear. Alan, our certified boat operator, was at the helm and I traveled with Mary, a veteran of the volunteer crew and our primary cook, although I had volunteered to cook three of our dinners.

The Ranger III at the Rock Harbor docks.

The day remained clear and relatively calm, and we had a pleasant 20 minute boat ride.

Rock Harbor Lodge. People pay A LOT of money to stay here!

We chugged along and I marveled at the scenery, all rocky and thick with black spruce. Before I knew it there was the Dassler cabin, perched upon its own little promontory across a small cove from Scoville Point.

The Dassler Cabins. Sleeping cabin is on the left, the main cabin on the right. I don't know why this image is so overexposed but it's the only one I got from this view.

The Dassler Cabin doesn't have its own dock. The one the Dasslers put in kept getting swept away by ice and storms, so we used one perhaps a quarter mile farther down Tobin Harbor that is also used for access to two other nearby cottages, one which is still occupied. Alan dropped Mary and I at the dock with all our gear and Rubbermaid tubs full of food and supplies and went back for more people. This was perhaps the most exhausting and treacherous part of the trip, carrying the bins over rocky, uneven ground all the way back to the cabin. We made four trips in all, three with bins and one with our gear. My arms hurt for two days!

The Dassler sleeping cabin, with the tip of Scoville Point on the right across the cove. This building has two rooms and is very bright inside, and if I ever won a residency on Isle Royale, this is where I'd spend most of my time. The sleeping cabin is about 25 yards from the main cabin.

The Dassler Cabin, as seen from the front, or water side. It's pretty dark inside, with its small windows, dark panelling and surrounded by trees. The trees cannot be cut as the cabin is in a wilderness area. This covered area served as our dish washing station. 

There is of course no running water, so all water consumed must be filtered. We'd bring water up from the cove and have water filtering parties. There is a filtration system set up inside but it wasn't working properly--one of the tasks on our list for the week was to clean it up and get it going again. I had brought my gravity-style filter, where you fill up the top bag, open a valve, and the water flows down through the filter into the bottom bag--or in our case, a bucket. Needless to say this is much less work and I spent a lot of my free time filtering water.

Alan, Liz and Roger filter water behind the Dassler Cabin.

After dinner I had some time to explore the cove. I'd been told a loon had been hanging out there for several days, and I'd noticed a few other water birds, so I went down and sat on the rocky shore.

Cove near Dassler cabin.

Dassler sleeping cabin. There is a bedroom in the main cabin as well.

The loon was not at all bothered by my presence, and came quite close to me.

Common loon. Their calls rang out across the cold water at all hours of the day and night. I woke several times that first night to their haunting songs.

As I sat, the other birds swam slowly closer and closer. They seemed more ill at ease with the loon's presence than mine. These turned out to be a new bird for me--Red-breasted mergansers. I love the wispy little feathers sticking out from the backs of their heads.

Life-list birds! Red-breasted mergansers.

Back up by the cabin I walked to the Tobin Harbor side to watch the sun set. I don't think there's ever been a better place to put a bench.

Dassler cabin bench, with the point of Smith Island on the left.

It took only six hours for me to fall in love with this place.

Sunset over Tobin Harbor.

We were warned about the voracity of the mosquitoes after dark, so I made my way back to my tent site. The moose kept this area clear of trees. There were five or six of us camping in this general area, but I think that is not going to be allowed in the future. There are occasionally hikers that come down this way and the park staff are left to explain why there are folks camping here. I crawled into bed listening to the songs of the White-throated sparrows, who sang long into the night, then started again early the next morning.

My campsite.

Next: Day two, and a hike to Lookout Louise

Mortality on the Beach

The tip of the Leelanau peninsula is a low-lying, rocky spit of land that pushes into the northern reaches of Lake Michigan north of Sleeping Bear Dunes. My good friend Karin lives about a half hour from the point, and I decided I was going to take a few hours and drive up to see it.

Leelanau State Park encompasses most of the tip, and consists of two areas--a campground and lighthouse on the point and a trail network a bit to the west, separated by private land. I drove up to the campground as my main objective was not to hike but to see the "beach" and look for waterfowl.

The water level is low, and there was a wide expanse of rocky shore past the campground. A tall stand of vegetation blocked my view of the water, but I moved through it carefully in case any birds were on the other side. Sure enough, as I emerged, I saw a raft of waterfowl moving quickly away through the water--I'd been spotted. Rats.

I was walking carefully across the bumpy beach when I saw, directly in my path, a dead long-tailed duck. My heart sank. I'd seen my first long-tailed duck last year in East Tawas, and it was such an exciting moment. Now to see one dead on the beach, headless, was very sad. I examined his beautiful tail feathers and webbed feet.

Dead long-tailed duck on the beach at Leelanau State Park. (Taken with my iPhone 4s, which takes amazingly good photos.)

When I looked around the beach I saw another carcass to my left, so I went to have a look. Again I felt that wave of sadness when I found an immature common loon, belly up on the rocks. Some critter had claimed it, defecating on its right wing.

Dead immature common loon.

I examined this bird closely too. It's not often one gets to be this close to these birds. I just wish it were under different circumstances.

I wandered around a bit more, and on my way back across the beach I found another dead loon, this one an eclipse phase adult.

I have heard about the mortality of waterfowl due to botulism in the Great Lakes, but hadn't seen it up close and personal. This really brought it home for me. Not because the birds were dead--death is a part of life, I accept that without qualm. What bothers me is that the death of these birds is a result of our carelessness and ignorance.

What I've read is this (and it isn't pretty):  Clostridium botulinum bacterium is naturally occurring. It becomes concentrated under certain conditions, and scientists think that invasive species to the Great Lakes are playing a big part. Invasive zebra and quagga muscles (which arrived in the ballast water of foreign ships) filter the water to a much clearer, "cleaner" condition than is normally present in the Great Lakes. This allows sunlight to penetrate the water to a much great depth. This, combined with elevated air temperatures, causes the water to heat up. As the water warms and sunlight reaches farther down, algae grows. Too much algae and the water becomes oxygen depleted. This creates an environment where botulism thrives.

How the toxin enters the food chain is another mystery, but scientists speculate that it is eaten by invertebrates on the bottom of the lakes. The invertebrates then are eaten by fish, primarily the invasive round gobie, a bottom feeder. The toxin affects the fish's nervous system and they swim erratically or float near the surface. The are easy pickings for larger fish and fish-eating birds, like loons. Botulism also affects the loons' nervous system, ultimately making it impossible for them to hold their heads up, and they drown. Once they wash ashore, they may be consumed by other animals, and maggots growing on the decomposing body are eaten by other birds, and the mortality spreads.

So, basically, our introduction of invasive species and the warming of our climate are almost certainly to blame for the tens of thousands of waterfowl and loons that have died in the past decade. It's a clear example of how our carelessness has effects that go far beyond what we can imagine.

You can watch a short video about the die-off this year at Sleeping Bear Dunes here.
 
(Lori later informed me that one of the birds that eats maggots from dead fish and birds is the critically endangered piping plover.)

Getting Loony at Seney NWR

 PIRO/Seney continued:

Loons are plentiful at Seney National Wildlife Refuge--it's one of the main reasons we try to stop there every time we're in the U.P.  We timed it well this year--as I mentioned in my last post, there were baby every things everywhere. We saw four different loon families, at various distances from the road. Without my tripod I was really handicapped, but I at least got some shots that I may be able to work from down the road (these images are all cropped).

This is a series of shots of one family whose parents clearly need to brush up on their spacial relations. The chick really struggled with this fish and I don't think it managed to eat it. We saw the same thing happen with another family too.

"Lunch time!"

"Are you serious? I can't eat that!"

"Mom! I don't want fish again!"

"Junior! Where's your lunch?!?"                 "I dropped it under the table and the dog ate it."

These are extraordinary birds and I could watch them for hours. Unfortunately we didn't have hours and had to push on.

There were more loons though, and this pair was even closer than the last.

I've gotta learn how to draw water!

Next: Osprey on a nest

Camping at Pretty Lake

August began with me feeling over-worked and stung out. After seven shows in eight weeks I needed a vacation. I was also in need of some new subject matter--I had in mind to do a black bear, but I didn't have many black bear images to work from. So we decided to take a quick trip up to the U.P. and visit Oswald's Bear Ranch.

Oswald's opened when the dumps shut down. Back in the day, folks who wanted to see bears would drive up to the U.P. and park at a town dump. There would invariably be bears, often sows with cubs, digging up the trash. This was not good for the bears, and ultimately not good for folks who lived up there who had to deal with bears that had become used to an easy meal out of a trash can.

So I got online and found a State Forest Campground about 15 minutes north of Oswald's called Pretty Lake. What sold me was mention of portages to other surrounding lakes. We would have an extra day to relax so I wanted a place with good paddling. I assumed since it was a rustic campground and we were going up midweek that we would have our pick of spots. Boy was I wrong! We were lucky to find one with direct access to the water where we could leave our kayaks! However, the area and scenery didn't disappoint.



We got camp set up and had a quick dinner, with just enough time for some exploring before dark. The girls took out their 'yaks while I walked the perimeter. The sun was setting and the moon was rising as a pair of loons, with two good sized chicks, yodeled across the lake. It was a perfect up north moment.


The following morning we packed lunches, fishing and camera gear and headed across Pretty Lake for the first portage.

Map of the four lake portage

The first portage took us to Brush Lake, a small, deep body of water. The portage was short, only 100 feet or so. We paddled to the next portage, also short, which took us to Camp 8 Lake. Around a good portion of Camp 8 Lake were rustic campsites, accessible only by foot or boat. What is nice about these is they are rustic, not back country--there are vault toilets, hand pumps for water, picnic tables and fire rings. We could see another trip in our future!

Brush Lake

Lori

Lisa

White pond lily

We paddled around Camp 8 Lake for a while, then decided to portage over to Beaver House Lake. This was a longer portage so we left the kayaks on the shore of Camp 8 while we explored the area. There were more campsites out here, which really felt like the middle of nowhere. The trail that cut through the area was wide and well-kept, and then I saw a blaze for the North Country Pathway. That explained it! This is a 4,600 mile trail that passes through seven states, from North Dakota to New York.

I fell in love with this spot instantly. There was not a soul, not a sound, nothing but the wind and the twittering birds. We collapsed on a picnic table and ate lunch in paradise.



We dragged our kayaks over to Beaver House Lake and the girls went fishing while I stayed behind and wrote and relaxed, and took pictures of red skimmers cavorting in the sweet gale.

Oh, pardon me!

When they got back we went blueberry picking. Never have I seen so many wild blueberries in one place. We barely made a dent.



By 4:30 we were getting hungry again, and a bit tired. Knowing we had several lakes and portages to tackle to get back to camp we reluctantly left. When we got back to Pretty Lake, the loon family was right there by the portage, having their own supper.






It was an absolutely perfect up north day.