So, where’s the story in that you might ask? No worries…it’s here!
I’ve been off to Nova Scotia for the last little while, visiting our eldest, in university, my brother and sister-in-law, and my mum. While there, my husband called after a walk in the back forty, to say that he’d spotted a northern pigmy owl. I’ve never heard of this bird, let alone seen one. So, after returning from my lovely home province, MD and I set out for a similar stroll hoping to spot this robin-sized newbie-to-me-bird.
But, before that, a few trip pix…during my undergrad days at Acadia University I used to take the train home. The train station master would place a flag in a holder alongside the track to let the train engineer know there was a passenger to pick up. Oh man, that makes me sound ancient! Anyway, that’s the truth and this time while visiting Acadia I stumbled upon the old train station while out walking around town. The Via passenger train service has long-since closed in this region and the station is now the town library. Great use of the building, but a bit of a shock to me.
The old train station with town name sign…
The tracks, now going nowhere…
I met up with Sara, our eldest, and we took off for a visit with my brother and his wife along the southshore of Nova Scotia. We enjoyed a brief stop at the beautiful Summerville Beach…
…before continuing on to their home and a delicious Valentine’s day dinner at the yacht club…
…and the next night a scrumptious meal prepared by my brother…
…hmmm…looks like I was so anxious to eat that I couldn’t hold my camera still. Sorry about that. Then we were off to the local arts club to see Morgan Davis in concert, a Canadian blues artist. Great music…he’d fit right in on Beale Street, which, when I told him, he beamed!
He was an encyclopedia of jazz musician history. He even played a three string cigar box guitar, reflecting the old time musicians’ instruments.
Anyway, then it was time to drive to mum’s for a short visit together with Sara before she had to get back to school. Then back to mum’s for me, where mum was being interviewed and honoured for her 80 years in the Girl Guide movement!
Here, she and Ruth Paul, the local area coordinator, are looking through one of mum’s photo albums of her early guiding days. Mum was invited to their Thinking Day potluck dinner and I tagged along…as her groupie 🙂
The weather was stormy, cold, damp, snowy and everything in-between, but I did meet up with a friend from my undergrad days, Etta, and she and I hit the local roads for a good five-mile walk. She wore me out, actually. It sure doesn’t take long to loose fitness when one sits around drinking tea for a few days. Anyway, we walked across the Maccan River bridge and had a good look at the local, open-once-a-year United Church…
Then it was time to get things together to head home.
Which brings me back to Montana and my search for the northern pigmy owl.
We walked along a bit and spotted the dipper, which I tried to get closer to, but it now seems perturbed by my presence. It scolded me to no end before flying off further downstream. I guess it tolerated my getting close in the winter because we spotted each other at the only open section of the brook. An unnecessarily harsh tongue (beck?) lashing, I thought.
But still no northern pigmy owl.
So, then I turned around and happened to look up and there was the reason for that.
Hard to see here, but about in the middle of this photo sits America’s bird of prey, with its white head and tail, incredible beak and talons like shears.
I guess if I had the word “pigmy” in my name and there was a gigantic bird of prey overhead, I wouldn’t be sitting around here showing myself off, either!