The
sun sends the scent of cottonwood sap through the air. They've leafed
with such vigor that the term "gravid" comes to mind. Young cottonwoods
bend with the weight of new leaves that seem bigger than ever, nearly overpowering
young trunks. Lavish abundance, indeed. Was spring this intense
last year I wonder? Saw my first bachelor button today. Yellow
iris (those gorgeous foreigners) are starting to bloom along slow water.
Poison ivy came out while I was visiting the salt water, all shiny and
new (the ivy, that is). Life doesn’t slow just because I step out of town.
Noooo. The Rose hedge is thick and blooming, thank you Larry and
friends. Lovely. Not as fragrant as a floppy petaled rose nearby.
While I was out, Flicker Forest filled in with leaves and a floor of grass
with unruly seed heads. I am always, always taken by surprise by
the lushness of spring.
ZPG
fan that I am, I'm still always excited to see new kids each spring.
Tiny downy kids, that is. In April I first noticed goslings lounging
on an apartment lawn. This week I saw my first group of new mallard
ducklings, out with mom and dad. Further on 5 tiny wood ducklings
paddled with mom to the far side of the lake! Don't recall ever having
seen wood duck hatchlings. Tiny little fluffs! Couldn’t
have been more than a day or 2 old! My admiration for small creatures
surviving loose dogs, bikes and folks is total.
A few
days later mom merganser with 7 (best guess) new ones right beside, hurried
to the far side of the river as I walked by. Their tiny, unmistakable,
red crested heads--miniature spitting images of mom--kept right up, fleeing
the intruder (me). Normally mom would have winged it, but with a
fleet of downy chicks without pin feathers, paddling was the only option.
These kids too looked brand new to this non-duck.
Remarkable!
Can you imagine jumping in the water, eating and swimming as soon as you
hit the ground! Isn’t the world of precocious ducklings astonishing!
In the world of birds, as I recall from Ornithology 101 in a previous lifetime,
there are the bird-lings that gotta be fed by mom and dad, like robins;
and there are kids that take off immediately upon exiting the shell, like
ducklings. Maybe 'cause those hatched on the ground gotta get a move
on it. Whereas if you’re tucked into a nest in the fork of a tree
or better yet, inside its truck, you get waited on! Too cool!
Today
a steady but intermitten "call" drew my attention as I walked towards flicker
forest. Ah ha, quail; their call often fools me. However, it
was coming from up in the trees and quail hang out on the ground, don't
they? Staring in the direction of the mono syllable call, my eye
caught movement way above the ground, up in the trees. Balanced on
a slender branch was the large form of a lone quail. Slowly moving
along the branches, it called out v. roughly once a minute, the entire
hour plus I hung out nearby. Quail with a mission.
As
my mind wandered hither and yon, I admired the focus of this bird, keeping
to the task at hand-- perhaps announcing its presence. (Who knows.)
If I had that kind of diligence, my qigong practice would soar! Practice,
practice, practice, one thing well, one note, again, again. Maybe
I too could balance on a branch narrower than my feet, if I practiced by
the hour, not to mention the day! My respect for quail expanded.
What
with quail calling; blackbirds, flickers, chickadees romping; robins, kingfishers
and song sparrows singing, I felt like I was in a zoo aviary! Doves
coasted, magpies swooped. Occasional swallow twitters floated through
the canopy from above. Just Who was in Whose zoo? Me, I think,
in Nature’s!
June 2000
Moon
of Small Owls
So
lavish and lush, this first June of the New Millennium! Every walk
by the river leaves me awestruck. I'm tempted to say beyond words,
except I scribble lists of the astonishing, hustle home and keep trying
to capture it all! There have been perfect days and long, gorgeous
evenings, when tiny bits of cottonwood fluff hang almost still in mid-air.
Again and again, I'm out 'til midnight! (Hence no sunrise reports.)
Again this year I clearly saw mallards gobble those cottonwood fluffs off
the surface of the ponds. Looks kind of dry to me; evidently yummy
to a duck. No big cottonwood “snows” yet. Everything seems
to delight and amaze me. I'm continually awed by the vocabulary of
magpies and their lovely feathers along the trail. The bright red
of finches; the colorful epaulets of red winged blackbirds. Surprised
by each "Yawk" of the beautiful great blue heron. Delighted by the
silhouette of a cormorant on the pond. The nettle patch is over my
head! Poison ivy is bigger than ever this year.
A few
weeks ago I surprised another busy wood duck female. This one with
a dozen tiny, tiny kids. I counted again and again. More recently
I saw a mom with what looked like at least 10 specks on the far side of
the lake, perhaps the same family. Under the best of circumstances,
it's hard to count ducklings. A couple of times I've noticed a mallard
female with just one tiny tot. That I can count. I always wonder
what happened to the rest of the gang.
One
afternoon—rationalizing better late than never?—I tried to review qigong,
during an apparent activity peak for the resident squirrels. What
with squirrel yelling, leaping and chasing, it was hopeless to concentrate.
The entire hour, they interacted, noisily scolding and pursuing each, small
branches and clumps of leaves, crashing down with their frolics.
Several times I clearly saw aggressive biting. Several times I heard
thuds and thought it might be a squirrel landing in the stream or on the
ground, but only saw branches. I was never clear if it was mating
frenzy, sibling rivalry, Hatfields and McCoys, or what! Nor could
I count the participants. At least 6 in action at one time, spiraling
up and down trunks. Some seemed midsize, young. (I'm not very
knowledgeable about squirrels.) Often it's fairly obvious what animals
are up to, or at least seem to be. This time I was “skunked”.
Much of the noise and activity seemed to originate out of a thicket of
leaves, possibly a nest. Leaves continuously fell into the stream
during the endless rumbles.
Whereas,
another morning while I practiced, a male quail suddenly flew up onto the
low, dead branch that overhangs the stream. Hmm. Never seen
a quail out there before; what a grand opportunity to observe! I'd
heard their rustling in the leaves earlier. Then a second quail,
less strongly marked and brownish with a smaller topknot, walked up onto
the log and joined him like a mate. Nothing to eat up there, I thought,
must be for the view! I could just hear Mrs. saying, “Darling, might
you have time for a walk?” “Sure, honey, have we been to the lookout
over the stream lately?” Quail seem so polite. They stayed
perhaps 5 minutes. Overhead what I'd guess was a vireo sang enthusiastically.
Although I haven't seen a vireo for years, the sleek profile, light breast,
and continuous singing, brought them to mind. Just have to go with
it! It's rhapsodic song was the perfect comment on the beauty of
the day! I couldn't put it better. When it moved on and I turned
back, I saw the male quail following the female down the trail. More
often than not, this time of year, I see only a female with ducklings,
or one afternoon, 10 green headed male mallards hanging out together.
This comfortable pair caught my eye.
Another
time Charlene and I sat by the river until dark. Bats fluttered and
nighthawks swooped. C's become quite the wildlife observer, was first
to spot the beaver swim by! I've seen few beaver lately, but lots
of gnawed and fallen evidence. Hence Travis the Trapper, cruising
up and down the trail lately in his pickup with cell phone number!
Gathering
plues (that French word for furs I'm not sure how to spell)
for the winter rendezvous? Not this time of year! The modern
trapper! I cynically wondered if Travis is just a grownup kid who
turned his hobby of off-ing animals into a profession! Maybe that's
what the old mountain men were! Meow. It's the people population
explosion that truly disturbs me.
Lately
I've been seeing owls, little ones, probably screech owls. I listen
to robins scold, look up and see 'em. Late one evening I could tell
robins were complaining about an owl. Despaired of seeing a well
camouflaged, brown owl in a forest of cottonwoods, heavy with leaves.
Something caught my eye, though: What! A hummingbird, this late in
the day!! The hummer was buzzing the owl (or was it showing me the
owl)! Now, isn't that wild! Don't hummers go to bed early!
Tonight
as I walked upstream I paused when I heard quiet clacking. Right
at eye level, a few feet a way, a small, slightly downy screech owl peered,
looking steadily, as best it could, with only one good eye. After
a few moments it flew silently across the trail, where magpies chased it
deep into a thicket. When I still heard the sound beside me I looked
deeper in the bushes and saw another fluffy owl behind where the first
had been, maybe a nest mate. What with owls clacking, magpies scolding,
and a bullfrog "booming", I had to laugh. Hardly a quiet evening
down by the river! How I'd love to watch a bullfrog make its incredible
sound!
Another
early afternoon I was late doing my qigong exercises. To my alarm
it sounded like a school bus or two of kids were tromping down the trail.
Some walked on into the grove by me. Others stood on the trail and
stared as I came to a rather intense section of the form. Normally
I wave and hello. Then an adult with name tag and clipboard plus
kids walked right by, the woman politely inquiring what was I doing!
After I finished the series, I thought I'd do a little educating.
By that time, the crowds had chased an owl out in full daylight, into the
branches above me. Chickadees, tiny fluffs 1/20th the owl's size,
were fiercely diving at it, along with red winged blackbirds and robins.
I couldn't miss the ruckus.
After
I explained that I was doing tai chi-like Chinese exercises, I thought
I'd show the kids the owl. Surely they wouldn't stone it! I
explained that it had been moving around, “Like playing tag”, one girl
understood immediately. Although it had sat still by a fork in a
large branch for at least 15 minutes, as soon as I pointed—it was gone—no
doubt making the strange woman doing exercises imitating animals even more
suspect! I spluttered foolishly.
Although
I sometimes fantasize myself a Taoist Mountain hermit on the peak of one
of those incredible Chinese mountains (you’ve seen the paintings), I sometimes
smile for days at my small neighbors. As I walked home one morning
I overheard a couple of kids with fishing poles and noticed a fish in the
sand. When I overheard “This fish smells pretty good!” I chuckled
and chuckled! How open the beginner’s nose, the beginner’s mind!
No kid ever thought fish smelled until an adult said so!
June-July 2000
Moon
of Forgotten Socks
Toward
the end of June I slipped into the pond one morning. Kids had been
swimming for weeks. Of course. After several weeks of heat and no
rain, I was more than ready. How terrific to be able to walk into
the water and come out cool! Yeah summer relief! All along
the trail, adult and kid sized socks have been abandoned, likely forever.
The quantity of summer socks was one of the first things I noticed on the
summer Greenbelt. Once I had to clamp my hand over my mouth (better
'n a Greenbelt sock) in order not to ask why a friend didn't harvest the
Greenbelt when she mentioned she was sending her daughter money for socks.
Waited
and waited for the Moon of Summer Snows. Not this year. Instead,
cottonwood and willow fluff drifted down almost without notice this season.
No blizzards like last year’s; no stunning sunlit webs of fuzz, catching
my eye. No heavy mats of fluff, gathered by the wind, covering ends
of lakes. How did it happen? Was there less fluff, or was it
just a matter of timing.
Sunsets
have been sensational since fires began in Oregon and around the area.
One night I awoke to the unmistakable smell of smoke, blown in by the all
night fan. Alarmed, a quick inventory assured me it was nothing I'd
forgot or nothing local; definitely heavy wood smoke. Since then
I’ve been told sunrises and moonrises resemble sunsets—can’t vouch for
that this season. Out of clear skies clouds seem to come in just
to dramatize sunsets. Finally, one scattering of clouds brought the
first rain in many weeks, one Tuesday evening. An all too short,
welcome rain swept briefly across the valley, clearing dust and pollen
filled air, wetting parking lots and cars. Its clouds were beautiful,
filled with thunder and lightning.
Not
until we walked downstream several nights later, did I realize how localized
the storm had been. Unlike downtown where there was little evidence
of the storm the next morning, downstream cottonwoods had uprooted and
snapped. Downed branches were everywhere-- totally different world!
Whow, Eileen and I exclaimed, over and over!
In
June ducks went into what birdwatchers call eclipse, acquiring generic
feathers, unisex dress so to speak. Only rarely do I notice the remains
of a male mallard’s bright green head. Everybody looks the same.
I’m determined to see if I can’t figure out ways to tell who’s who.
Males are bigger; their bills seem to stay khaki colored. Where,
one wonders, did the curly tail feathers go! Without them and the
green head, I watch for differences in behavior and bills. In eclipse,
I can’t tell the sex of adults or teens, any of the ducks!
Last
week, in a statement of great faith or insanity, mom mallard and 2 kids
crossed State Street. I stopped and watched in horror as motorists
slowed on this main drag and the family made it. One evening, off
in the distance, Charlene and I saw what appeared to be an adult trying
to cover several brand new ducklings. Hatching still happening.
Have seen a wood duck mom with 4 tiny puffs following her recently.
A few weeks back the complaining of a young chickadee drew my eye up into
Flicker Forest. There, no little fluff of a kid, but a larger-than-its-parent
kid was successfully demanding food and being fed. Enjoy the free
lunch while it lasts, kid!
I've
an embarrassing moment to confess. While riding bike home one morning,
I gawked at a dog, endlessly diving and barking at a stroller tire, then
bouncing back to repeat the move. While thinking even a dog would
be sane enough to give up eventually in this heat, I hit a hole and fell
off the bike. Unconcerned by the dog leaping and barking, the stroller
unit expressed casual concern over my welfare as I swept gravel off my
palms and knees. By then I could see the dog was barking at a puppy,
hidden under the kid in the stroller. No more dog gawking for this
unsteady biker! In the future I will avert mine eyes from dancing
dogs while peddling!
