A Thanksgiving to Remember

For me Thanksgiving while I was “migrating” towards adulthood meant one of two things — often both — the obvious combination of duck hunting and football.  With a workaholic father, those moments we spent together were my favorite memories of dad.  Thanksgiving mornings, at least when we lived in Utah during my early/mid-teens, were the days he would take me duck hunting in the marshes along the Great Salt Lake.  Initially, dad assigned me the roll as the family Labrador retriever — until my 14th birthday.  I shivered with excitement that Thanksgiving Day, the day I initiated my first hunting license.  Fortunately for the ducks, no adolescent ever did a better job of educating them on the perils of duck decoys.  Never mind, with no ducks to clean, my brother and I had more time to toss the ball around at halftime during football games.

One year, shortly before Thanksgiving, an errant shotgun pellet that I launched accidentally hit a Canada goose.  I swelled with pride at the admiration I received from passing hunters as I lugged that “monstrous” bird down the dike leading back to our car.  Back home dad announced that we should let it age before cleaning it.  That's what he did growing up close to Barnegat Bay in southern New Jersey, but perhaps not the wisest strategy considering the heat of the garage during that warm Utah autumn.  

Finally, too long afterwards, we cleaned the goose — the centerpiece for a Thanksgiving dinner in the tradition of our forefathers and mothers.  Soon the aroma from the roasting bird wafted through our house — driving everyone outside.  Maybe, we wondered, had it aged too long?  Still mom dutifully finished her job mistakingly assuming that dad knew best.  At last we gathered around the table as dad carved my goose — a Thanksgiving dinner to remember.  Alas, from there on, our story diverged from the original Thanksgiving, because after one sniff, no one touched my inedible Thanksgiving goose.  Yes, it was indeed, a Thanksgiving to remember.

Now in our autumn years Thanksgiving is still a time when birds remain a part of our season’s attractions, but in a more gentle manner.  No longer am I the center of attraction dragging an enormous Canada Goose down a dike, but rather it's Karen attracting comments and dogs as she stalks birds throughout Petersburg.  For Karen who would never even consider shooting a goose, duck or any avian (or mammalian) species, any bird is a wonderful target -- for her camera.  But throwing a football around — nah.

Karen, it turns out, is a far better hunter than I ever was.  Here is just a sample of the many recent photos she has taken of birds.

Vancouver Canada geese in Petersburg sense Karen is a "big threat."

                                       As do mallard ducks that are obviously distressed by her presence.

A common loon stretches it's wings.

A Wilson's snipe contemplates if it should have migrated south.

A "tiny" flock of long-tailed ducks land in front of Karen

An American dipper wonders about that one-eyed critter (the camera lens)

A surf scoter enjoys a bath.

A Barrow's goldenye surfs the waves of Frederick Sound.

And her favorite, a raven with whom Karen exchanges pleasantries.

These images are just a tiny sample of very patient Karen's latest "trophies."  You can't eat them, but they don't drive you out of the house during Thanksgiving.