Watching the eagles of Hornby Island

Watching a pair of eagles raise a family is another of those cool experiences brought to us by the wonders of video cams and the Internet. I got hooked last spring after DJan posted a link to the Hornby Island Eagle Cam.

Mom laid her first egg of 2011 on Tuesday evening. She is likely to lay another by Saturday. Wednesday afternoon, more than 1,000 viewers were watching, and more than 300 were logged into the chat room. Some will be there from sunup until dark for the next several months. I won't be there quite that much, but it does get to be habit-forming, especially once the eaglet pokes its way out of the egg, about 35 days from now.

Last year's story didn't end well. The healthy and active eaglet called Phoenix (the only hatchling in the nest) died suddenly of a lung infection, probably from eating tainted roadkill lovingly provided by her parents. But the cycle has come around again, and if you are interested, you can check out the YouTube video below (and sign up for updates) or the Hornby site, or both.

Two or three minutes into this video, Mom begins to make birthing sounds (who knew?). Then voila, an egg.




P.S., I just discovered this eagle cam at Norfolk, Virginia, where three eaglets have already hatched. They don't provide sound, but the video quality is excellent.

I said it was a diphthong but he could just call it two letters

Augie's preschool teachers take the children outdoors every day. A sign at the classroom door says "Inside Start" or "Outside Start," a signal to us (grand)parents to help the child dress accordingly. I had taught him to look for "I" or "O" on the sign, but one day he decided to sound out the whole word.

He was quiet for a minute and then he asked, "Grandma, is the 'O' silent?"

His teacher gave me a "He knows about silent letters?" look. He does, and he had realized that the word "outside" doesn't start with the traditional "O" sound. The next day I explained that there are pairs of letters that work together to make new sounds. The word "outside" is not pronounced "oat-side" or "oh-oot-side," because the two letters make a new sound. We found lots more "ou" words in stories we were reading, and I pointed out some other letter pairs. With his parents, he's been talking about "th," which also comes up a lot when you're sounding out words.

Some days he loves the sounding-out process. Other times he just wants to listen, to hear the story and let his imagination run and maybe snuggle close and hold somebody's hand while they read. It's all good.

Deep snow in Minne-snow-ta

We have a small backyard, intruded upon by a garage and a big driveway.

During a winter of enormous snowfalls, as we've had this year, clearing the driveway means creating a huge mound of snow and ice on one side of the yard. The peak was about seven feet; it tapered down to about four feet near the house.

Last week, Augie and Vi enjoyed climbing atop the "snow mountain." He loved being so close to the crotch of the tree, which is usually far out of reach. He kept looking for a way to climb up, but the icy surface didn't allow it.

The photo at the right was taken in June 2009. The angle is all wrong for comparison, but last week he was standing at least a foot-and-a-half above the bench - and that was a low spot on the "mountain." Rain and warmish temps have melted much of the snow in the past few days, but that bench is still firmly buried.

The melt is slowed by the fact that everything refreezes at night (one reason much of the pile is ice rather than snow) and the sun hasn't been out yesterday or today. But that's a good thing, since a slow melt means less chance of flooding.

In any case, I'm so ready for spring!

Operating on the edge

"Cutting-edge technology often works flawlessly. People are amazed...."

About a month ago, my computer had another meltdown, the third in two years. My husband's business partner, who helps with our computer issues, installed a new mumbojumbo board, or maybe it was a makemecrazy drive. Then he restored programs and data from my backup disks. It would be nice if that were the end of the (non-)story.

But it always takes more than that to get things operating again. Invariably, one or two programs no longer work and I have to upgrade or replace them. My photo database refuses to reconstitute itself without hours of manipulation. And this time, Photoshop has to be replaced. I've researched the less expensive Photoshop Elements, but I can't get the free trial version to run. As a result, I haven't been able to do much with my photos (including making a new header) for weeks now, and that's making me cranky.

As computer problems go, this one hardly counts. But it's a reminder of how these powerful, indispensable, magical gadgets complicate our lives.

A few weeks ago, I came across my ancient electric typewriter in the basement. When I bought it, I thought it was so slick. Little did I know that it was the first step toward dependency, like a gateway drug to the addicting world of instant look-ups, dazzling graphics, easy online shopping, and the crack cocaine of blogging.

It's not that I mind being hooked; I love the ways that computers enrich our lives. What I hate is being dependent on something I don't fully understand, can't control, can't fix on my own.

That, of course, is the frightening thing about life on this planet. Even in the best of times, control is an illusion. Under the spell of that illusion and in the name of progress, we humans have complicated our lives with systems and gadgets that are far too ambitious in their attempts to control and outsmart nature. We genetically modify crops. We divert rivers, drain wetlands, and build in the flood plain. We engineer oil rigs that are supposed to work just fine in deep water, and nuclear power plants sure to withstand local weather events. What could possibly go wrong? Well, other than miscalculations, carelessness, greed, bigger-than-expected natural disasters, and unintended consequences?

As individuals, we can shop at the farmers' market, try to reduce our carbon footprint, even try to talk sense into our policymakers. But there's always that risk, that something will go horribly wrong and there won't be an easy fix. There is more at stake than whether we can use some whiz-bang programs to keep ourselves informed and facilitate creative expression. No wonder we're nervous, or more than a little cranky.

"...At first, everyone worries about risk. Then people get lulled into complacency by success and they forget that they are operating on the edge, experts who study disasters say. Corners get cut, problems ignored. Then boom."  

 --from Technology’s disasters share long trail of hubris, by Seth Borenstein, on MSNBC.com