You may not find this terribly rewarding unless you're included here, so this is a good time for casual and random browsers to turn back before they get too caught up in the sweep and majesty of the proceedings and can't let go.
Back from Lake Superior to the lake in the Wisconsin Northwoods, this is a modest collection of domestic photojournalism from the first half of August 2022.
Here's the mid-lake along the canal to the next lake over -- we're looking for sunbasking turtles on logs. None so far this summer, none at all last summer. We had many more in the past, even a snake, in fact.
No turtles yet, only . . .
. . . another infestation of the dreaded invasive alien species, the Purple Loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria), no. 50 on IUCN's database of '100 of the World's Worst Invasive Alien Species'. We hate them ('Each mature plant can produce up to 2.7 million seeds annually'[source]), and we're way behind at yanking them up this year, but nobody's willing to wade into that awful mess anyway.
Last summer, things were far otherwise. |
A march of dead trees coming at us out of the swamp
The dash over to the far end of the canal, to be welcomed by . . .
. . . a sailboat race.
What fun.
An attractive scene, informally called 'Pradt's Point', at the southern cusp of our little northern bay by Mussent Point
A vintage boathouse a bit farther south, belonging to Gail and Dave, but apparently disused
With sandbar
Choupette, waiting for 9 a.m., the arbitrary time of the cats' morning release from durance vile (and back in by 5 p.m. -- it's all to do with huge savage owls lurking nocturnally in the swamp)
Pink Island, with its own sandbar, almost connecting to the Tigertail
A parade of ten mergansers (nine kids and a mom)
Patrolling along calmly, in a relaxed and doubtless carefree manner, until . . .
. . . panicked into a desperate scramble to safety.
Odd wispy, filamentary sorts of clouds, hovering over Point o' Pines
Still more rain today, and . . .
. . . Melvin awaiting our advice for finding shelter
On the pontoon boat, of course. We've got our book, as usual, but impatient cats have to occupy themselves.
Napping isn't working out so well today.
Feline frustration with the elements
Choupette is not going to put up with this anymore. It's just unacceptable.
She just wants out!
Melvin keeps his feelings to himself (always), but is ready to go as soon as the rain lets up.
Brother Eric leads the cats to post-rain freedom.
A consultation: how can we get into the boathouse again?
This way never works.
Melvin goes exploring.
He's seen these things before. (It didn't always go well.)
Now he'll just settle for a snooze.
As Jerry Muskrat paddles by in front of the boathouse . . .
. . . bound for the neighbor's shoreline.
A brief mission into the little cove behind Tigertail, 14 August
The idea, somewhat farfetched, just an excuse maybe, is to check out some of the newly fallen tree limbs and see if they're sick, or what.
This is a cute little isthmus connecting the Tigertail mainland with a small bulbous promontory bounded by erratic boulders. We're here to investigate further.
Uh oh, maybe not. Propeller's stuck in the underwater wreckage. We'll go and summon help.
That's the shoreside profile of the Mussent Point conurbation.
Yoopi! After a long turtle-drought on the lake, finally, here's a handsome basker in a little cove off Tomahawk Bay.
One keeps one's distance so as not to disturb him (her, it) unnecessarily
{lamenting again the MAGA's kneejerked 'pronoun wars'}.
Wildly encouraged, we pedal furiously into the canal's mid-lake, once our most productive turtle-observing location.
Not pedaling furiously, really, very carefully rather, but as fast as we dare. The water level's been evaporating throughout the summer, and there's lots of stuff to hang us up on.
The whole canal is a real mess. Someone needs to tell the Tourist Board.
We begin our scrutiny along the sun-facing shoreline.
Instant rewards. Not one, but three.
Two little guys, possibly stuck among the branches
And a bigger one, sitting on an invisible something amongst the lily pads.
Perking up his head. Listening.
[Sadly, through to mid-September we haven't seen any of these four chappies again. Where could they have gone?]
The purple loosestrife is taunting us.
Memento mori
Choupette joins the afternoon dock brigade.
Fascinated by hydrobikes. As who isn't?
The temptation to scoop her up and take her for a ride is sometimes strong. But if she were to panic on board, and without a feline lifejacket, the results could be awkward for both of us.
Observing the world go by.
Taking turns on the window sill
Melvin catching up on news of Trump's new 'legal team'
The phantom paw
A writhing old tree, periodically raining dead branches down next to the boathouse
Rounding the shoreline near Baby Leigh Island, George Island in the background
A herd of ducks taking up residence on the float-pad, seven of them at the moment. There are no cleaning products ever made that will help that pad now.
The Lake in the Northwoods
The lake at a glance. Mussent Point is at the red dot, no. 12.
Next page: Miscellaneous views on the lake: Supplement 1
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All rights reserved, all wrongs avenged. Posted 10 September 2022. 
