Hunkering Down in February
The cold of February, heated by wood and fire
February is less about birds and more about wood. It’s in this slow, cold season that I begin to cut, split and stack the wood I will burn next year. Working with wood is for me working in the woods. I hear the Great Horned Owls that sing at unexpected times (1:30 in the afternoon), or am outside when a raft of forty turkeys mosey through the yard, all foraging for some bit of food, or when the Raven grocks as it sails overhead. There are times when I am working to bring in wood when I think it is the most optimistic thing I do. Every piece of wood is a promise I will be here next year to burn, to heat my house. When life feels precarious—as it does right now for so many—this gesture is my grounding.
Animals were on the move in February. Every night on my trail cam I had skunk, opossum, and raccoon walking through. And—for the first time in my trail-camming history I had a bobcat. And that bobcat has a little bump in its stomach making me hopeful there is a baby bob on the way.
Meanwhile: February has been cold. Cold, and icy, making my driveway impassable for nearly a week. It made it a good time to do my annual burn.
The first Red-winged Blackbirds are back and singing. And on some days when the sun was shining and the temps went above freezing Tufted Titmice also sang, and there was a tiny hint of spring.
Getting ready to do some serious splitting
A turkey keeping watch on the flock
Bobcat passing through in the night
A perfect winter burn pile