Author Archives: Janet

Back yard nature notes

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Mrs. Pileated visited our back yard this morning and brightened the overcast for a little while.

Obviously I haven’t mastered the art of photographing birds in flight. But even blurred, the pattern of coloration on the outspread wings is dramatic.

She harvested what she could, then flew away.

There is a robin’s nest in the shrub right next to our front door. Looks like we’re in for some up-close nature study, provided she doesn’t get scared away. We can look out a bedroom window directly into the nest, so in effect we have a robin’s nest-cam.

We met an ornithologist while walking around Sapsucker Pond in Ithaca, earlier this week. (That’s where we saw the hunting hawk pictured in the preceding post.) He told us about a rare sight in these parts, a yellow-headed blackbird, that he’d traveled to see the day before. The site was on our way home, so we stopped to see if we could spot it. It was, as he’d said, far across the marshy area where it was hanging out. But we did get to watch it for a bit with binoculars. I got a picture — more of a “this proves that I saw it” pic than anything else.

It belongs far out west, so it’s quite lost. What becomes of a bird thousands of miles off course? Hopefully he’ll find his way back to where he belongs; the red-winged blackbirds were hassling him. Go west, young man!

The ornithologist was gracious to us even though we stampeded his efforts to photograph a warbler. He told us about a palm warbler he’d seen at the pond, and though we never saw one that day, we did see one later in the week, in one of our usual haunts. It’s camera-shy, but lovely. I hope to get a better photograph of one before the warblers have all swept through.

The orioles are back, too, making beautiful music in the treetops. And the woodland plants are beginning to bloom. I’m only just learning their names: wood anemone, trillium, bluets, Japanese honeysuckle. Butterflies zig-zag everywhere. Ferns continue to unfurl. Except for the record population of deer ticks (we had no winter to speak of to cull them), it’s a great time to be outdoors.

Anemone

 

Hunting redtails, bathing sparrows, and birding humor

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I couldn’t believe how close this hawk came to us in the woods today. It was amazing to see him hunting at such close range!

He seemed to catch something, floundered around in the leaves, then flew back up to his perch. Hunting is hard work. He never did catch anything while we watched, but he perched in several trees and continued trying. I have no doubt he satisfied his hunger eventually.

I kind of like the effect of the blurred wings in this photo, but sharp talons and beak.

We also saw a white-throated sparrow taking a bath.

Rub-a-dub-dub!

You, sir, are one handsome bird!

His brood patch is there in the middle of his chest, I think.

Post-bath solar drying

He looks like he’d be so warm and soft to hold in the hand and stroke, doesn’t he?

“What does a white-throated sparrow sing when he takes a bath?” I asked my husband, expecting an answer like “Rubber Ducky” or “Singin’ In the Rain.” Instead, he whistled the white-throated sparrow’s song.

It’s great to belong to a family of bird fans.

Marsh Meanderings

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The warblers are coming through. I saw some in the morning along the river, and then in the afternoon on our family walk, the bushes were alive with them.

They were all yellow-rumped warblers. They look like chickadees in silhouette — till you can see the colors.

The males are quite flashy.

The females are a little more muted.

Please -- come out from behind that twig?

I am hoping to see more warblers this year. (I quoted from Wendell Berry, and from Jean Craighead George, on the subject of warblers in this post.) They are so small, and move so quickly, that it’s hard to get a good look at them. The nice thing about a camera is that it preserves them to be admired.

At the opposite extreme was an Eastern phoebe, hunting insects. Not colorful at all, but very soft looking and very athletic.

Not a great photo, but a neat capture - right at the moment the bird is about to snap up an insect at the water's surface.

There were multitudes of swallows, too. In Rufous Redtail, the young hawk wants to have eyes like a hawk, but to fly like a swallow.

Eject! Eject!

They seem quite sociable…

…but have their squabbles!

Wishing you the best of spring meanderings!

Birds and Blooms 2: Ferns

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Bluets, with a tiny butterfly drinking

Okay, these aren’t ferns. They’re lovely though — tiny flowers sprinkled here and there in the woods.

But ferns are what we’re beginning to notice and learn about, and ferns are unfolding all around.

We saw these fern fiddleheads two weeks ago. We’ve seen this kind in two different locations. Each week, they’ve progressed, despite cold weather. Last week they opened their fists just a little.

This week, they developed still more, and this morning I tried to figure out what kind they were using the Handbook of Nature Study and the resources supplied in the More Nature Study Spring Outdoor Hour Challenges ebook. I’m pretty sure they are interrupted fern. Especially since seeing them yesterday, with their darker green pinnae covered with spore cases. The darker green sporangia will dry up and leave empty spots on the stem after the spores are distributed. I think they’re quite beautiful…

I’m not sure whether these ferns are all the same kind. The spore cases are light green in some (they look like clusters of grapes), dark green in others. Maybe the darker ones are further along; I think they turn brown eventually. Time will tell.

There are two other kinds we’ve seen too. One, I’m guessing, is bracken.

It was growing on a shaded creek bank.

The other species is still a mystery to me. It’s very delicate.

I’ve never paid that much attention to plants before; I’m more naturally drawn to critters and birds. But we’ve been enjoying our fern-hunting. It’s something to notice, the changes in the plants along the path — something to “read” that affirms the progress of spring.

Birds and blooms pt. 1

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I’ve seen a few birds out and about lately. We’ve had a return to some chilly, overcast, damp weather that hasn’t been conducive to venturing into the great outdoors, but whenever possible we’ve tried to get out and enjoy some sun.

I’ll save the blooms part of my title for tomorrow — after I learn more about ferns. But here are some of the birds I’ve seen…

 

Male wood duck. My wood duck pics are almost always blurred for some reason, but this one comes close to focused.

 

I thought this might be a female red-winged blackbird, until...

...it squawked, revealing itself to be an immature male. Even dull-colored birds are beautiful with their feathers spread.

Here's a mature male, brightening an overcast landscape.

Female junco, hung out to dry.

Neighborhood Pavarotti.

Mockingbird -- best look I've gotten at one.

And then it flew away...

Yellow-bellied sapsucker. He pounded all day, trying to attract a female, and listened carefully for response...

"Anyone? Anyone?"

Older Daughter drew a cartoon of him in his lovesick spring state of mind.

I hope he found someone. We saw this female a few miles away. Maybe she came at his call.

There’s more to our schooling than nature study. Really there is. It’s just not as photogenic. India under the Moghuls, calculating the volume of rectangular objects, doubles-plus-one facts, lists of prepositions, dictionary skills, readings, and writing assignments just don’t seem… like subjects I care to revisit in this space. But the endless array of creatures around — new ones, and familiar ones appearing in new lights — are a different story. So many varieties, and so much to learn.

Hatch

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It’s been an exciting few days at the Cornell hawk-cam. On Sunday, the first hatchling pipped its way out. Thousands of people watched as it worked all day trying to get out of its shell. Then a second egg pipped.

There was no sighting of the actual chick to signify completion of the task. Then Monday dawned snowy. It was kind of horrifying to see Big Red, who had apparently been entirely buried in snow at some points overnight, incubating in a snow fort. Not that snow is any surprise to a nesting upstate New York redtail… but what a day for a delicate hatchling to emerge into!

Finally, after a marathon period on the eggs, Big Red got a break when Ezra returned to the nest near 2:00, and viewers got their first glimpse of the new chick.

The second egg still hasn’t fully hatched, and no pip has been spotted on the third egg. Most of the excitement has been in watching the feeding sessions with the new hawklet. Amazing to see the tenderness of those large, fierce birds with their wobbly fluffball.

It’s been pretty captivating to watch. We’ve had the livestream feed on the computer most of the time so that we can keep tabs on what’s going on even as we go about our own daily business of feeding and teaching and “nesting.” As hawk fans and students of nature, it’s been a tremendous opportunity to see how another species meets the challenges of daily living with a devotion that’s nothing short of inspiring.

Nice job, Red and Ezra!

*Note: Images are screen captures I’ve gotten from Cornell’s web cam. Cornell encourages sharing, but to use such images commercially requires their permission.

Breadcrumbs

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I picked up Breadcrumbs because it looked attractive on the new books shelf at the library, and because I remembered reading Amy’s review awhile back. I read it because I needed something on the light side. It was an “easier” read than some of the denser fare I’ve waded through lately — which is to say, it’s readable and absorbing. But it’s not trivial. Anything but.

The plot centers around Hazel and her best friend Jack, who suddenly becomes mean. Though Hazel’s mother explains that this happens sometimes when kids reach a certain age, Hazel is unconvinced. “Jack’s heart had been frozen, and he was taken into the woods by a woman dressed in white to live in a palace made of ice,” the front flap explains.

The story of Hazel’s trip into the woods — a dream-like landscape populated by various broken-hearted beings — and her attempt to rescue Jack brings us face to face with some of the darker truths of the human heart. Sometimes, it’s easier to let your heart freeze, and to let your mind take over — a theme worked out both in the prosaic world of Hazel’s school day life, and in the dark wilderness of the woods. Most of us will face the temptation at one time or another. And most of us will need rescuing from the chilling, deadening effects of retreating inward. Ursu’s woods seem to stand as a vivid picture of all that is murky and dangerous in the human heart.

Ultimately, what saves is love. At many turns, Hazel is urged to give up her quest because Jack probably doesn’t want saving. It’s true, in the same sense as the wisdom of teachers and parents in the book is true. It makes sense. “Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do,” Hazel’s mother tells her at one point, and one could hardly argue with that. But it’s also hopeless, a line of thought that leads to paralysis and maybe even despair.

Jack’s hope of salvation — and really, Hazel’s too — lies in Hazel’s refusal to accept the cold rationality of such logic. Ursu uses the snowflake to suggest the potentialities of the human soul. On the one hand, it’s an ideal hexagon, perfectly symmetrical, made of ice. At times in the story snowflakes are a picture of the mathematical precision of logic, and at other times, of beauty and poetry. The difference is in how it’s viewed, which goes back to the orientation of the heart. Much though she’d like to bury it at times, Hazel’s heart is a compassionate one, alive to the possibilities of goodness and creativity and grace.

One other aspect of the book that I liked was the way it weaves in references to other fantasy stories, some of which I’ve read, others not: Narnia, The Golden Compass, The Phantom Tollbooth (I adore this story, and the airwaves around here have been full of it this week via audiobook), Harry Potter. Ursu seems to acknowledge her imaginative kinship with these stories, and they play a role in her heroine’s imaginative life too.

I think it’s a great book, and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it in the sense of looking forward to every reading session. Yet I have to acknowledge, too, that it leaves me feeling a bit heavy-hearted. It contains truths, but though it ends well, the resolution is both abrupt and limited. It’s not a feel-good book, but it’s one that succeeds as a beautiful, suspenseful, thoughtful weaving serious themes. It’s not one I’ll forget quickly.