Quirks of Biebrza Valley

-Wild boar and moose skins mounted on the wall add to a room’s decor.
-After one shot of vodka, you’re obligated to have at least five more.
-Gugny’s tap water tastes strangely similar to the scent of marsh water.
-Pride is taken in White Storks nesting anywhere from telephone poles to chimney tops.
-Elaborate burial sites look more like art exhibits.
-Bus stop huts for a bus that I’ve seen only once.
-Immense trust is put into visitors to honor national park restrictions.
-When someone gets lost in the marsh, the police stop at the hostel for a coffee break.
-The happening weekend hang out spot for young men in Trzcianne is in front of the adjacent markets. 
-Prominent crosses and shrines stationed in front of every other house as a symbol of Catholic pride.
-Communist era instant coffee in the market, which is only 30% coffee and the rest a type of grain.
-All of the produce in small, independent stores is locally grown, even though it’s not advertised. (I’m not sure about the bananas though.)
-House pets and cows freely wander the streets.
-Crosswalks are merely for decorative purposes on the streets.
-No matter how fast you seem to be driving, several cars will still overtake you.

Northern Safari

 The other day, I decided to explore the “wet meadow” along a different path, and on the island, towards which I was heading, there was a large, brown lump of something.  Getting a better view with my binoculars was useless, since I dropped them in the marsh two days prior and they were still quite foggy.  My first thought was an elk, which I discovered to be correct, once I crossed the island and saw him frolicking through the marsh 100-200 meters away.  Maybe he was actually running from me, but it looked as if he was enjoying himself.

Another day, I was driving down the horrible, rutted dirt road to pick up the others from a work site, when four wild boar piglets popped out from the vegetation to the left of the road.  They didn’t seem alarmed at the intrusive presence and noise of the oncoming vehicle, simply standing in the road and observing it for a few moments.  I cut the engine and watched them until they disappeared into the grasses on the opposite side.  Mom was not in sight, but I’m sure that she was keeping a close eye on things, concealed within the overgrowth.

Several weeks ago, we took our day off to look for beavers, but without success.  I returned to the site with one of my co-workers earlier this month to give it another go.  We saw no signs of them on our walk into the forest, even at their village of dams and dens, yet on our return trip, there was a tree root in the stream that looked suspiciously like a beaver.  Presently, it began to casually paddle about and climb onto the shore occasionally to munch on some leaves.  Out of nowhere, another beaver came into view, and yet another, a bit further downstream.  They swam about paying us no mind for a good fifteen to twenty minutes, before one became spooked by some unknown, hastily diving underwater with a harsh splash of his tail.  And then, they were gone.