"For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice."
— T.S. Eliot
This will probably be my final blog post of 2025, but we'll see. Last weekend, Sue and I did some exploring and hiking in the Sauk area, including the Sauk City Canoe Launch along the Wisconsin River. The place was quiet and empty, as it often is this time of year, but I know what's buried beneath the sand. We also stopped at the Prairie du Sac Dam, where roughly twenty-five to thirty Bald Eagles were gathered, riding the cold air and the river's slow persistence. There were also numerous American Robins and even a pair of Killdeer.
Ice had begun to form along the shoreline, but the recent stretch of unseasonably warm weather has set it back into retreat. After the cold snap, the warmth is not unwelcome—but it carries with it a faint sense of imbalance, as though winter itself has momentarily lost its footing.
This time, there were only interesting ice bubbles to photograph ...
These vertical, dotted columns are gas bubble trains in the ice, often referred to as ice bubble columns or stacked gas bubbles. Beyond their visual interest, they interrupt the crystal lattice of the ice itself, reducing both its compressive and shear strength. I should have brought my macro lens—these images were photographed with my phone and don't quite capture their intricate structure.
With the main gate to the beach closed and locked for the winter, crampons were necessary. The path to the shoreline was slick with ice, and we had no interest in tempting fate.
As the calendar turns to 2026, many birders will reset their year lists and the
chasing will begin again. Winter, for me, is quieter than that—more time
spent hiking, with the occasional birding outing woven in. Naturally, what I'm
really looking forward to, though, is the start of a new tiger beetle
season, which can arrive as early as mid-March, when the ground begins
to reassert itself.
So, if this is where the year ends, it's a good place to stop. Over the past year, time spent outdoors has continued to serve as a kind of ballast—something fixed and readable, while certain voices became louder and less accountable to reality.
All images © 2025 Mike McDowell