Tenting Again

Ah, camping! It has been so great to get back out in the wonderful state parks this spring, reminding us how very long it has been since we tramped about in the woods with our growing little family. Last week we spent a glorious few days down at one of my favorite places in Minnesota: Beaver Creek Valley State Park, just outside Caledonia, MN. My parents rented the small cabin available there, and we joined them there for a couple days of long walks and restful nights. And then this week I took a Wednesday off and we headed down to New Ulm and Flandreau State Park. We pulled in a little before 9:30pm, located a pleasing site in the rustic campground, and set the tent up with the aid of the car headlights. We were, it turned out, the only campers in the entire park that night, and it was beautiful.

We had a leisurely morning before I spiffed up into my best suit for an interview with the bishop (about which more to come, I promise), then later we spent the afternoon exploring historic New Ulm, having lunch at the Kaiserhof, taking in the Herman monument and the Glockenspiel show, and generally having a wonderful day out. We decided to stay a second night, so after a windy night's sleep I popped up at 4.45am, bundled the sleepy boys into their car seats, broke down camp like a madman, and zipped back up to the Cities, just making it to work on time. A grand outing, all around.

It is tough to do any hardcore birding with little ones, but I found real joy in being able to spot and point out various birds to wife and son as we went about our camping activities. I can officially report the following list, just to show that we had our eyes open:

• Red-headed Woodpecker (my first in several years)
• American Goldfinch
• Eastern Bluebird
• Least Flycatcher (by ear only)
• Cardinal
• American Robin
• Chipping Sparrow
• Yellowthroat
• Hermit Thrush
• Wild Turkey
• Ring-Necked Pheasant
• American Crow (this is turning into a rather patriotic bird list)
• Northern Flicker
• Blue Jay
• Canada Goose

We also found a baby Painted Turtle crushed and dead on the gravel road to the camp ground. His little shell was about the size of a fifty-cent piece (remember those?) and we carried him back to our campsite, where four-year-old Primus studied him intently for many hours.