19/3/14-21

3/14
We had about an inch of snow, but it’s melting today as temps climb up above freezing.  I’ve been listening to the red-breasted nuthatch this morning.  I’ve seen them this year for the first time and it’s always a treat to be able to identify birds I can’t see by their song.  A red-tailed hawk flew over earlier today, I never saw either bird but their aural presence makes me glad.

The peanuts are working on the crows, who stop by a few times a day, and the squirrels are taking advantage, of course.  So far I only have the pacific (read silent) gray squirrels around, but I’m sure if I keep putting out food, those vociferous red ones will find their way back. 

And another treat in the back yard is the blue jay.  I’ve just started seeing one around but one is near and calling out pairs of liquid bell tones.  While looking up the ways to describe the blue jay’s more melodic tones, I was reminded that they are also mimics and, I learned, one of their favorite birds to mimic? You guessed it, the red-tailed hawk. Just making sure I don’t get smug. Like the chickadees making their fee-bee calls which are usually more melodious than the Phoebes’.  And speaking of bird calls, the rooster living next door has been singing for weeks. 

He reminds me of my own year of the Roosta.  Someone dumped 3 roosters on the road by my house, they didn’t bother to get chicks that were sexed and people don’t generally like having them around, they are loud, they are aggressive and fight.  So many people, when they buy their chicks, pay extra for “sexed” eggs but it’s cheaper to get unsexed ones and dump extra roosters once they announce themselves. Those roosters sat in those trees every night for the rest of their lives.  Which were, alas, all too short.  We did catch one, me, Dan and Sandra Tibbetts and animal control officers from 2 towns armed with 2 big nets chased them all over my pasture one April afternoon, picking up lots of ticks and only one rooster.  Another was gone after a couple of days but one spent his days up at my house where I fed him.  He would eat corn near my feet, but I only had to stretch down my arm and he was off.  We were together for a few weeks and I think we enjoyed each other’s company.

Spring seems to be here, although the next few days will decide.  Today the rain is melting the snow, the day is dim with fluid that used to be frozen

And yet another welcome returnee, last evening was my first hearing the Woodcocks.  It was very foggy and even on clear nights I’ve never been able to see them during their courtship flights, but I love to listen. Of course, it’s a special bird for me, with my grandfather’s name Harold Woodcock.  Before I even bought this house, I came by one spring morning on my way to work to see how the sun hit it and as I pulled up, a Woodcock walked a few feet alongside the car in it’s hear bobbing way, seemingly uncaring about my presence.  It was the first Woodcock I’d ever seen, and still is.  It seemed a sign.  That and the Baltimore oriole I saw the first day I walked the property.  That was my first oriole.

19/3/17 St Patrick’s day 

It snowed last night, a dusting only.  It covered the porch roof as I walked down to go to the bathroom and when I came upstairs to get dressed 10 min later, the sun had melted it.

And now red joins blue, 2 days after my first blue jay, my first cardinal.  I saw her, but no him yet.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”― Rumi

There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in~Leonard Cohen

One warm day and night, the warm air kissing the snow, seducing it and through the night more and more crystals silently succumbed to spring’s enticements and as some of them trickled away, and others drew the curtain of fog as the earth begins to denude herself.

Our days are beginning to massage the sap into buckets, nights below freezing and days peeking above.  Maine celebrates Maine Maple Sunday next weekend, I wish I could find a place that offers it on waffles!  Lots of places offer it on ice cream, not too many mention it on or in yogurt.

Turns out that squirrels also tap maples buy biting the sugar maple bark and then turning later to lap up the sweet.

3/18
I’m grateful to see a cardinal and blue jay because I’ve missed them but one of my favorites, the dark eyed junco with their little pink bills, have returned. I think of them as demure little nuns, they never fly up to the feeder, but only pick up the leavings of others, always on the ground, dark gray hoods over plain neat white breasts. but always wearing their bright pink lipstick, er, well, beaks.
https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Dark-eyed_Junco/overview

3/21/19
I’ve pulled up the snow gauge, there are only a few inches left on the ground and I don’t expect much more. After looking it up on the internet I decided to wrap it in paper towels wet with vinegar.  It’s not going to come out gleaming, but after 12 hours, it certainly started the cleaning process.

It’s hungry out there in birdland, I’ve had a flock of robins eating the sumac berries and hopping hopefully about the mostly still frozen yard.  The berries are very sour, you can use them like lemons to make “sumac”ade.  This morning there was a blue jay eating there too.  

We’re getting about 1.5” of rain over the next 24 hours, they say it’s a classical Northeaster with rain.. There is lots of snow from the roof on the ground near the house.  This is a bit anxiety provoking since the ground is still frozen and there may be water in the basement.  

(Tangent, here Down East, they call it a Northeaster, we pronounce the th)

The pile of snow that slid off the garage roof is still half way up the windows.

Our sap producing cold nights have been without a cloud blanket and the moon is waning gibbous, bright light reflecting off the snow at night.

I’m grateful to have noticed some of the forsythia branches sticking above the melting snow.  Now they are displayed in a vase in elegant (read elegant simplicity with the emphasis on simply sticks) arcs which will flower in a week or so.  

I’m putting pix in my blog, my current sprigs and some blooming ones of yesteryear.  

I’m hearing the voices of summer, the blue jays and robins with their so familiar songs.  I expect to hear the lawn mowers of yesteryear that used to join with them in similar choruses in my suburban evenings when I was expected to be asleep before full night had fallen.  The robins have such a varied repertoire that it was only much later I realized that most of the background song in summer was mostly all robins’.