Bill Murray...Many Souls Must Be Trampled...Never Trust An Addict...The Turtle Mountains

I ran into a Black Tern nesting colony on my way to the Turtles, and was obliged to stop and have a cup of tea with them.

Oh man. It's another day in North Dakota. There's kind of a Groundhog Day vibe going on here recently. Call me Bill Murray. Or not. That would be weird, I don't look like him, but there are worst names to be called right? Sure. Anyways, every day is a little different, but one thing remains same. Every fucking day I have to endure Two And A Half Men blaring in the goddamn living room for hours at a time if I want to be able to get internet access. Goddamn...who are these people? Where did they come from? And why do they insist on watching this shit? Can evolution skip a generation? I mean, I can cope with the constant South Park, Family Guy, Tosh.0....but being subjected to this show over and over again brings on a sharp and sudden sense of Fear and Loathing. Hunter S. Thompson once said, "For every moment of triumph, for every moment of beauty, many souls must be trampled." This is true. For every picture I posted today I had to listen to the soulless dialogue of a Two And A Half Men Episode. 

Remember....never trust an addict. Especially the television sort.

Anyways. I feel like a true creature of habit. The slowly changing birdlife does, peripherally, keep me informed that time marches on, despite the Two And A Half Men reruns telling me otherwise.

A little bit ago I took a camping trip to the Turtle Mountains, which straddle the Canadian border. It was a good change of pace...prairie birds were replaced with things like Yellow-throated and Philadelphia Vireos, Great-crested Flycatchers, Chestnut-sided Warblers. Mountain lakes contained nesting Common Loons, Red-necked Grebes, and Buffleheads. If you're ever in the state and want something to do other than the gratuitous Sprague's Pipit and Baird's Sparrow hunt, go turtling!

The deadly gaze of a Red-eyed Vireo.

Common Loony Tunes.

Franklin's Gulls were working the flooded Souris River, swooping down for the occasional bit of edible flotsam. It reminded me of how at home they can appear over an ocean, rather than a prairie.

Ahhh, the muskrat. They will burrow their way into your heart. You may take that figuratively or literally.

The towhee of mystery. Sang Eastern and Spotted songs. Looks more like an Eastern, but with a few extra spots? Hybrid? 

I've come to the logical conclusion that Swainson's Hawk is my spirit bird for 2011....I did work at Swainson's Hawk Bird Observatory in Mexico, after all, and some of the tens of thousands I saw down there could be the same ones that call North Dakota their summer home. Sick.