Both of my long-time readers know that the overflow pipe coming through the dam at Roundrock has been eroding the base of the dam where it emerges. (That photo above is not the spot I’m talking about.) Libby and I filled the basin with rocks gathered from the area once, and the next overflow event washed them all down stream, gouging a bigger basin in the process. From this I realized that if we were going to fix the erosion problem, we’d need larger rocks. (The long-term plan is to pour a slab here to blunt the force of the rushing water as it emerges.)

It happens that at the extreme other end of our forest, there is a small pile of large rocks. They sit beside the old road still visible through the trees that must have served the area in the ranching days (or maybe even before then). My guess is that they were collected when the road was originally cut through the wilderness. I’ll probably never know, but the pile of rocks seemed ideal for filling that eroded basin below the dam a half mile away.

So the first task on the day’s list was to clear the old road enuf that we could back the Prolechariot down it to stop beside the pile o’rocks. We would then load them all into the bed of the truck and drive them to their new home. Sounds easy enuf.

It turned out that the old road wasn’t nearly as open as I remembered it. Not only was there a lot of deadfall blocking the way, but whole trees growing up in the roadbed would need to be removed to get the TOYOTA down it. While all of this could be done (and while it would provide an additional bit of fire break for when those meadow fires my neighbor periodically has get out of control — it happened once), it would have been an all-day job. And when we looked at the pile o’rocks itself, there actually weren’t enuf there to make the job worth the time at the time. Like so many other projects at Roundrock, if this road clearing job is ever completed it will probably be the result of many small stabs at it rather than one big work day.

And so we abandoned that plan, persuading ourselves that since we were in the Ozarks, we could find plenty of other rocks about the place. We each carried a couple of rocks from the pile to the truck, and then drove down to the acre below the dam to re-assess.

At this point you’re probably looking at all of the rocks in the photo above and wondering why old Pablo would bother trying to haul rocks from the other side of his forest when there are already so many fine ones right beside the problem. Well, here’s why: they’re not fine. They’re too small for the job. Rocks that size would get washed out of the basin and added to the small dam forming below it, further compounding the problem.

We sloshed our way over to the erosion problem to see just how big this project was going to be. (Apparently the rains in the area recently were much bigger than I realized.) Along the way we carried our few collected rocks and tossed them in the water. The basin swallowed them whole, showing no sign of its hunger abated. Looking at the pool of water and guessing the depth of it based on how utterly the large rocks had disappeared, I knew then that even if we had filled the entire truck bed with small boulders, it would have only been about a third of the volume we needed to do the job. So, another ambition of the morning was thwarted.

We wandered about the area, collecting the larger of the rocks we came across and tossing them in the maw, but the immensity of the work (given the tools at hand: our hands) disheartened us. Nearby was the eroded spillway. There are several pools of water that have formed in it as well. The photo above is one of them. I’m not sure what to think about these. I’m pretty sure they are far enuf from the dam structure not to pose a threat to its water-holding ability. Yet if they are allowed to continue to erode, I think they could eventually pose a threat. So Seth and I got busy tossing large rocks into these small basins. (Libby had wandered off.) My hope is that when water comes coursing down the spillway, it will strike the rocks and continue rushing on rather than dig the holes even deeper.

As you can imagine, these problems won’t be fixed with more rocks and hours of back-breaking work. They will be fixed with money. I’ll need to hire someone to haul in a truckload of gravel to fill the holes and then a bulldozer to flatten and shape it all. That would probably be a good time to have a slab poured at the overflow outlet too. While this person is there I’ll have him take down the dead tree that rises by the spillway since if it comes down it will probably make matters even worse.

Everybody needs a hobby, right?

Missouri calendar:

• Epiphany
• Put Christmas trees on ice for fish cover or beside bird feeders for wildlife cover.

Already four days into the new year, and I’ve only been out to the woods once! I’m going to have to do better than that in the months to come.

Libby, Seth, and I went out to Roundrock on Sunday, the coldest day forecasted for a week in either direction. I’m not sure it ever got above 0ºC. (#2 Son Adam did not join us, but he always likes it when he sees his name mentioned on the blog. There you go Adam!) I had some big, heavy lifting ambitions for our visit, and I thought that if we kept busy working and generally moving around, we would stay tolerably warm.

On the drive down we happened to stop for gas ($1.59 per gallon), and when I glanced up I saw that the northern sky was filled with skeins of geese. And by “filled” I mean horizon to horizon. There were thousands of them up there, and I wish I had thought to take some video of it to share with you. They were flying to the northwest, which seemed a little odd, but maybe they had dinner plans in Kansas City.

It turned out that that wasn’t the only avian surprise we had coming. When we were nearly to Roundrock — still on the paved road — we saw a bald eagle. It was working on some road kill when we drove up, and it lofted itself easily to a nearby tree. I tried taking some shots of the eagle, but the angle was bad and the camera at its maximum zoom takes pretty poor pix. By the time I thought I had a shot lined up, the eagle flew off. Bald eagles* used to be rare in Missouri, but the Department of Conservation has done a lot of work raising eagle nestlings in Missouri sites and then releasing them. They tend to return to their original nesting areas when they are mature enuf to breed, which accounts for their growing numbers in the state. I don’t suppose I’ll ever see a bald eagle hanging around my lake at Roundrock, but it could happen.

When we finally did get to our woods, we found that Good Neighbor Brian had been through with his brush hog and had mowed our road for us, including our easement across his meadow. From what we could tell on our own recent visits, Brian hadn’t been down to his woods in several months. I knew he was having some family issues, so maybe he just wanted to treat himself to a day in the woods to ride his tractor and do random acts of kindness. I’m always grateful, but the middle of winter is the time of the year when the road needs mowing the least.

My plans included lifting heavy rocks and throwing them in the water then later building a new road. After that, I thought we might have lunch. I’ll tell you tomorrow how well that all worked out.

* The “bald” of bald eagle means white, not hairless. This is an older meaning of the word, and knowledge of it had escaped my seventh grade science teacher when she assured us that the bird was given the name because from a distance it looked like it didn’t have any hair.

Missouri calendar:

• White-tailed deer bucks begin to lose antlers.

Maybe, just maybe, I made it out to Roundrock today. I sure hope so.

The Nature Blog Network has gone from zero members at the beginning of the year to more than 600 now! That’s an astonishing growth rate, and it should sustain that pace in this new year of ours (which means that poor old Roundrock Journal will get even more lost in the great shuffle). The Network includes a toplist of nature blogs as well as a blog of its own, which provides interviews with member bloggers among other things. Congratulations to the minds behind the Network. Go visit and see if you can find a few new friends there.

Whorled Leaves is a collaborative nature blog that, unfortunately, hasn’t seen a lot of posting lately. But the most recent post there certainly shares some good news.

The latest edition of the Festival of the Trees is up at Rock Paper Lizard. Be sure to head over there and check all of the links. Plenty of arboreal goodness to be had.

M and C Build a House is a blog I’ve linked to here a number of times. Well, now they’re building a blog too. They’ve moved their blog to a new host, so be sure to update your links.

I neglected to respond to a query made by one of my loveliest commentors. She asked how my daughter’s tiny dog, Crusher, got his name. There is some debate about this. My son-in-law insists it is short for “Bonecrusher,” but my daughter insists it is short for “Ensign Wesley Crusher.”

Zilla said there is a “quiet sort of richness” about Roundrock Journal. Bless her heart! And go visit her blog too.

Gort, above, comes to you courtesy of the lobby of a suburban movie theater here in Kansas City. Libby and I had gone to see the (dreadful) remake of this classic film, and this statue of the robot was in the lobby. It is supposed to be the actual promotion prop from the original movie. I had intended to use this photo on my January 1 post but, um, I forgot.

What’s Pablo reading now? I’ve had a book on my to-be-read shelf for more than a year called Modern Chivalry by Hugh Henry Brackenridge. It’s supposed to be a sort of Don Quixote set in frontier America in the years before the Civil War (sorry, the War Between the States, FC). Based on the introduction, there is plenty of timely political satire included, but not having lived in that era, I’m sure I’ll miss most of it.

Missouri calendar:

• First quarter: sunlight falls on the moon’s right side.
• Earth closest to sun (perihelion).

I mentioned some weeks ago about watching the crows at the snag where we put peanuts at Roundrock. Generally, they would swallow one peanut whole and then fly away with another, only to return later for more. (I assume they returned; it’s impossible for me to distinguish individual crows.)

Back in suburbia, we repeated the performance among the bluejays on our back deck. Not as large as the crows (their corvid cousins), they tend not to swallow the peanuts each time (unless they find a small one among the bunch). Their antics are entertaining nonetheless.

The sqwauking you hear in the background is not a bluejay but Hugo, our pet cockatiel. Hugo has been with us for years and years, and is likely to remain with us about that much longer. You may also discern the sound of a can being knocked over. That’s caused by Beatrix, but bunny that lives in our basement (and often in our kitchen).

I shot this video through two panes of none-too-clean glass, so excuse that if you will. I also shot the footage a bit earlier in the morning than would have been ideal. The sun wasn’t quite up, which would have brought out the blue of the birds’ plumage, but the bluejays are only morning visitors at our house. If the peanuts go out too late in the a.m., they Jays don’t come and the squirrels do.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this (since it is unlikely I’ll be able to film the crows as “well”).

Missouri calendar:

• Quadrantid meteor shower peaks.

We came upon this bent tree on our hike along the fence line a couple of trips back at Roundrock. (We really need to finish that hike — we only covered about half of the perimeter.)

It may be hard to tell in this photo, but the younger tree seems to have grown at the odd angle in order to get more sunlight that is abundant on the other side of the fence. (There is dense forest to the right of the photo.)

In the process, however, the young tree made the acquaintance of the barbed wire fence and has grown around it. You may be able to tell that the tree is pulling the strand of wire, putting tension on the already brittle metal.

The fence on the western boundary is altogether gone; only scattered posts mark its passage. The fence along the northern boundary is still pretty good, but only because my neighbor there had repaired it for the year he kept horses in that field. The fences along the eastern and southern boundaries are still in mostly good shape, and I’d like to keep them that way, at least to the extent of my ability.

Therefore, Pablo ought to head straight to this tree and cut it away from the fence. Not only would it relieve the tension there, but it would help open the path I continue to cut along the fence line. Yep, he ought to do that. I’ll let you know if he ever does.

Missouri calendar:

• The Missouri Natural Events Calendar is blank for today.

Seems like this day comes around every year, whether I’m ready for it or not. At least it was delayed by a second this time.

I have no profound words for my readers (do I ever?), no vows or resolutions for the new year. No plans or agendas. No great goals. No furtive schemes. Nothing special, really. Just the same saunter through the days.

I had considered making this the year that I would post less frequently here on the old blog. Keeping up daily posts can feel like a chore sometimes, especially when a long time has passed since I was last in the woods and have less to tell you about. I thought I could just post when I had something fresh for you.

As I considered it, though, I realized this would create more anxiety in me than meeting a daily posting schedule. When would I post? When would I not? Why would I not? What would be considered worthy of posting? And compared to some of the posts I’ve put up here, when would there ever be a time when I would think a post wasn’t worthy?

Too much stress. So I’ll just keep the same saunter through the days here on the blog.

The photo above is of some shadows in front of my house in suburbia. The weak sun was coming in at just the right angle to slip past a series of uprights in a little metal fence we have. It lined up the shadows nicely, but the light was too weak to create a really strong contrast.

Missouri calendar:

• New Year’s Day
• Beavers begin breeding this month.

This little suet cage hangs from a horseshoe nailed to a tree near the shelter tarp overlooking the lake in our woods at Roundrock. When I remember, I buy a cake of suet to slip into the cage on our visits. Sometimes when I return, the cake is all gone. On other visits, most of it is still there. I’ve never been able to figure why.

Of course in the summer I could expect the cake to melt and drip through the cage, and I have sense enuf not to bring the suet then. (The birds have plenty to eat at that time of the year anyway.)

When we first got the game cameras, I moved this cage to a tree beside the pine plantation. We’d seen woodpeckers of all sorts there, including a pileated that favored a snag just across the property line. I hoped that the suet cage (with a cake of suet in it, of course) would attract these entertaining birds and the game camera pointed at it would collect lots of nice pix of them for your entertainment.

All I got was a picture of a squirrel, mostly frustrated by the cage containing the tasty treat. So the cage made its way back to the lake area, and I sometimes remember to bring along a cake or two to offer the winged critters. I may get out to Roundrock on Sunday, and I’ll try to remember to bring a treat.

The family is scattered again. Rachel and Travis and Crusher left for Oregon on Tuesday. Adam left for Minnesota on Monday. In the time between med school semesters, he wanted to go on a road trip with the guys. (Road trips tend to seem like a better idea than they actually become, at least in my experience.) Seth will leave us tomorrow, but he’ll have a chance to see Aaron and Amber tonight when they get in from Indiana for a day. They leave on the first for western Kansas where the new school semester awaits. There was one day when we had all of them together. Wish I had thought to take a picture.

Missouri calendar:

• New Year’s Eve
• Hang up next year’s Natural Events Calendar.

Today in Missouri history:

• Missouri Governor Alexander McNair signed the bill designating the site for the City of Jefferson on this date in 1821.
• “Little Mack” Joseph McCullagh was born on this date in 1896. As a newspaper man in St. Louis he pioneered the use of the interview for news coverage, foresaw the importance of illustrations, and set the stage for modern political convention coverage.

You’ll recall that I recently made a post about a forked-tree I found in the forest at Roundrock. I told myself that the next time I was in the woods, I would look at the back of that tree to see if there had been some trauma that could explain why it grew that way.

I’m always telling myself that the next time I’m down at Roundrock I should revisit this or that. I generally forget, but this time I did remember. So you see above the back of the forked tree. Clearly something did happen to this tree long ago. I’d say that the trunk was split and maybe even broken away from the base. So the roots sent up new replacement trunks, and rather than one surviving, three did. You’re welcome to correct my wild speculations, of course.

And since we’re talking about three-tined forks, let me draw your attention to the iconic painting American Gothic. The farmer in that famous painting holds a three-tined pitchfork. If you look closely, you’ll see that the bib of his overalls also has three rows of stitching. Similarly the arched window behind the two repeats the three lines, and some even assert that the three lines are echoed in the farmer’s long face.

The editors at Roundrock Journal are always striving to give you a wide range of factoids for your daily use.

Missouri calendar:

• Squirrels gather in nests to conserve energy.

Today in Missouri history:

• On this date in 1826 the Missouri legislature outlawed the whipping post and pillory for punishing those convicted of certain crimes.

This small, unassuming bit of stream bed is where the Central Valley at Roundrock exits my property. It’s hardly a challenge to step across it, and if the leak under the dam didn’t keep water flowing across it regularly, I think it might be covered with soil and grass.

In fact, in the early days this exit was something of a mystery for us. The Central Valley cuts a widening swath from west to east across our land. Before we had the lake put in, there were generally two separate stream beds on each side of the valley. A lot of water moved through there, but by the time it reached the eastern property line, all evidence of a stream bed was gone. Only a small run of gravel like you see above — but smaller in width — showed that any water moved through the area at all. We couldn’t figure out where the water went given how much evidence there was for it upstream and so little down.

The flowing water is intermittent. Without significant rainfall, the stream doesn’t flow at all. And much of the water that does flow into the bed sinks into the gravel below it, presumably to enter the water table. Of course when there is a significant rainfall and the torrents come pouring down the Central Valley, the water doesn’t confine itself to this little bit of gravel. It rises above this and flows across the grass nearby. The mystery wasn’t why we didn’t see a bigger stream bed but why we saw one at all.

Missouri calendar:

• Tonight Mercury passes close to Jupiter; the crescent moon lies above the pair while dazzling Venus looks on.

Today in Missouri history:

• The Missouri Bar Association is formed on this date in 1880.

Okay, I’m willing to admit that my long and discursive post about finding a fruiting cherry tree at Roundrock was based on a mistaken assumption. It appears the fruits are from a hackberry tree, which I do have plenty of at Roundrock. I need to go back and examine the bark; it sure looked like cherry bark. Maybe I’ll find that I examined the wrong trunk. Anyway, thanks for pointing out my mistake. (Also, I’m glad I didn’t try eating that fruit!)

So it turned out that Amber and Aaron arrived a day earlier than we had expected. That was no problem. We had the empty beds, and it gave us an extra day with them. They are now in some placed called Indiana, visiting her family until the 31st. Then we get to see them for another day before they go back to western Kansas and the new semester. Libby’s niece and two children were not able to come. It turns out they were all sick with colds. That happens a lot this time of year. My younger brother arrived at 1:30 a.m. on December 26 and was able to stay a couple of days. My older brother and family arrived on December 26 in the evening and will head back tomorrow.

Crusher, by the way, has been spending time with us and with his other grandparents. Crusher is one-quarter Boston terrier and three-quarters chihuahua. You don’t want to mess with him.

Today is the last day for submitting to the January 1 edition of the Festival of the Trees. The next edition will be be up at Rock Paper Lizard to welcome in the new year. Send your email to talba [at] shaw [dot] ca or use the handy online submission form. In the meantime, you should visit the current edition over at A Neotropical Savanna.

We’re always looking for hosts for the Festival. Several people have graciously hosted more than once, and you’re always welcome to establish your own legacy, so send me a note if you’d like to have a turn.

The columns in the photo above are not from the front porch of Casa de Pablo. Rather, they belong to a bed and breakfast in Springfield, Missouri where Libby and I stayed a few years ago.

What’s Pablo reading now? I was given a book entitled The Cabin: Away from it All by Charles Gusewelle for the holidays. His is a name I’ve mentioned in this blog once or twice. Not only is he a beautiful stylist and a prolific writer, but the cabin he writes about is on a piece of property on the other side of the county where Roundrock sits. In fact, I contacted Charles Gusewelle when I was ready to build my lake because he had just had one completed in his forest. (After finishing Nuns and Soldiers, I took up a book of literary theory called Madame Bovary’s Ovaries. It looks for depictions of social Darwinism in literature. It made a good case, but that’s only one way of looking at fiction.)

Missouri calendar:

• During deep snowfall, bobcats stay in shelters.

Today in Missouri history:

• John Dougherty, compassionate Indian agent, wide-traveled trapper, and Missouri politician died on this date in 1860.