day sit.
on my way out the door, foxwalking, i was suprised when our goldfinches all flew towards me in a flock; the only direction i've ever seen them all flee in is away from the house, towards the trees. a moment later, i saw their reason: a very small crow-like bird, swooping right after them. the bird was silhouetted against the sun and i couldn't see any markings. faster than i could track, they switched positions so that the little birds were after the big; it was more like they were escorting it than chasing it, with some around it as well as behind it. they all did a few swirls toward the south, and then the bird continued on empty-handed and the finches retired to the trees. i ran in and got the binoculars after the most exciting part of the chase was over, but they didn't offer any more details than my first view had.
i looked up hawks, they being the only predatory bird i know of near that size, and discovered that there are a couple of small, crow-sized hawks, namely the broad-winged and sharp-shinned. it was quite chunky, so i'm betting on the broad-winged.
went out back to look at the turkey foot again, and was again impressed by its size. the three front toes are as long as my index, middle, and ring fingers; this is partly what gives it such the appearance of a hand. the claws are about half an inch long.
sunny today, chilly breeze. the earth is greening, and coupled with the blue sky, it was almost too much color to bear so early in the year.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Swallows!
afternoon sit.
cloudy day with some breaks of bright sun. very chilly when the wind blew.
first swallows of the year arrived in a large flock last night. a cluster came today to swoop here and there after insects above our yard. such a welcome sight, their petite swallow silhouettes against the evening sky. will wait to see if a pair returns again this year to one of our nest boxes.
today brought the discovery of one of the feet of the turkey that was eaten in our yard a few weeks back. i was looking at the piece of a wing that the dog found last week, and saw the foot lying a few feet away, still on the snow. a foot is so much more personal than feathers on a bone, it's like holding the hand of the creature. it was just beautiful. large pink and gray scales all along the lower part of the leg, flat and perfect like a snake's belly. the bottom of the foot was covered in long, skinny, tiny beige bumps, like the back of a starfish. the claws were just like dog claws, and were long but dulled.
the foot naturally curled closed, but in pushing the three front toes open, a living version of a turkey track jumped out. it had an impressive spike on the lower leg, short and deadly-looking like a rooster's. the upper leg bone was pretty well cleaned off, but the foot hadn't been touched. it didn't seem to have much to it besides scaly skin, bone, and tendon.
thanked the turkey for letting me learn more about its body.
saw my first two wooly-bear caterpillars of the year. so much life everywhere.
cloudy day with some breaks of bright sun. very chilly when the wind blew.
first swallows of the year arrived in a large flock last night. a cluster came today to swoop here and there after insects above our yard. such a welcome sight, their petite swallow silhouettes against the evening sky. will wait to see if a pair returns again this year to one of our nest boxes.
today brought the discovery of one of the feet of the turkey that was eaten in our yard a few weeks back. i was looking at the piece of a wing that the dog found last week, and saw the foot lying a few feet away, still on the snow. a foot is so much more personal than feathers on a bone, it's like holding the hand of the creature. it was just beautiful. large pink and gray scales all along the lower part of the leg, flat and perfect like a snake's belly. the bottom of the foot was covered in long, skinny, tiny beige bumps, like the back of a starfish. the claws were just like dog claws, and were long but dulled.
the foot naturally curled closed, but in pushing the three front toes open, a living version of a turkey track jumped out. it had an impressive spike on the lower leg, short and deadly-looking like a rooster's. the upper leg bone was pretty well cleaned off, but the foot hadn't been touched. it didn't seem to have much to it besides scaly skin, bone, and tendon.
thanked the turkey for letting me learn more about its body.
saw my first two wooly-bear caterpillars of the year. so much life everywhere.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Spring Peepers
dusk sit on the porch.
boy quiet in a sling, quiet and taking it all in, for twenty minutes.
flocks of birds flying high overhead, north to south. too far to recognize, though i brought binoculars out to try.
hail this morning. sky was dark, then darker. a roar swelled quite suddenly outside, and our house was inundated with a wave of small hailstones. we watched them bounce off the forsythia branches.
last night was the first spring peeper night of the year, choruses off in the neighbors' backyards.
yard is a quilt of beige, dark green, vibrant light green, and sky reflected in puddles.
boy quiet in a sling, quiet and taking it all in, for twenty minutes.
flocks of birds flying high overhead, north to south. too far to recognize, though i brought binoculars out to try.
hail this morning. sky was dark, then darker. a roar swelled quite suddenly outside, and our house was inundated with a wave of small hailstones. we watched them bounce off the forsythia branches.
last night was the first spring peeper night of the year, choruses off in the neighbors' backyards.
yard is a quilt of beige, dark green, vibrant light green, and sky reflected in puddles.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Friday, April 11
noontime sit under the pine.
soft, dry ground to sit on. pine needle scent, soft green needles lifting and falling in the gentle breeze. robins and others singing their songs. boy looking, looking, looking silently, then wanting to nurse.
the grass and leaf piles look as flat as paper on the ground, having been pressed down so firmly by the snow. the perennial beds i mulched last fall show no mounds of plants beneath the brown leaves; everything is flattened.
the snow is only in patches here and there in the sunny parts of the yard, but it is still almost up to my knee in the deciduous forest out back.
saw a flash of a small reddish somebody fleeing through the back yard as a lumber truck pulled up next door. thought it might be the fox, but when i went out to look for tracks in the slushy snow, i found none. possibly a squirrel and an untrained eye, or else a clever fox who diligently steps only where all of the snow has melted.
such a quiet day, but for occasional cars & neighbors' voices. at the risk of sounding idealistic, it let me imagine a world in which all that there really is to hear on a spring day is the birds, the breezes, the silence between them. in which we walk across the land as we please - no roads, no narrow property lines. just oneself, one's people, and the land.
the only places i've come close to this feeling of cohesiveness is at parks and nature preserves, where everything is made to be available to all of us for sharing. but even there, i often develop a sense of "my" picnic or camping spot, to be defended against others wanting to settle.
soft, dry ground to sit on. pine needle scent, soft green needles lifting and falling in the gentle breeze. robins and others singing their songs. boy looking, looking, looking silently, then wanting to nurse.
the grass and leaf piles look as flat as paper on the ground, having been pressed down so firmly by the snow. the perennial beds i mulched last fall show no mounds of plants beneath the brown leaves; everything is flattened.
the snow is only in patches here and there in the sunny parts of the yard, but it is still almost up to my knee in the deciduous forest out back.
saw a flash of a small reddish somebody fleeing through the back yard as a lumber truck pulled up next door. thought it might be the fox, but when i went out to look for tracks in the slushy snow, i found none. possibly a squirrel and an untrained eye, or else a clever fox who diligently steps only where all of the snow has melted.
such a quiet day, but for occasional cars & neighbors' voices. at the risk of sounding idealistic, it let me imagine a world in which all that there really is to hear on a spring day is the birds, the breezes, the silence between them. in which we walk across the land as we please - no roads, no narrow property lines. just oneself, one's people, and the land.
the only places i've come close to this feeling of cohesiveness is at parks and nature preserves, where everything is made to be available to all of us for sharing. but even there, i often develop a sense of "my" picnic or camping spot, to be defended against others wanting to settle.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thursday, April 10
afternoon sit under the pine.
today felt like late spring: hot in the sun, chilly in the shade. the boy had his first sunbath, complete with an outdoor pee.
exquisite day. sun tickling the pine branches in clusters. looking up at it was an experience in sun and shade, greens and browns. scent of the needles was almost overpowering, shouting out to the world. juncos peeped their way into and out of the branches as we sat, and the boy sang his squeaky chuckle in response.
the earth is beginning to sort out its wets and its dries: a little stream trickles over the land, dry earth around it. daffodils are four inches green, tulips coming along behind. the garden is completely clear of snow now, the first time in months.
woodcocks twittering to us this evening again. seem to be invisible birds at times - i hear them directly overhead, but all i see is dark blue twilight sky, then they move on.
today felt like late spring: hot in the sun, chilly in the shade. the boy had his first sunbath, complete with an outdoor pee.
exquisite day. sun tickling the pine branches in clusters. looking up at it was an experience in sun and shade, greens and browns. scent of the needles was almost overpowering, shouting out to the world. juncos peeped their way into and out of the branches as we sat, and the boy sang his squeaky chuckle in response.
the earth is beginning to sort out its wets and its dries: a little stream trickles over the land, dry earth around it. daffodils are four inches green, tulips coming along behind. the garden is completely clear of snow now, the first time in months.
woodcocks twittering to us this evening again. seem to be invisible birds at times - i hear them directly overhead, but all i see is dark blue twilight sky, then they move on.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Wednesday, April 9
day sit with the boy and the dog. (seems to be routine now that we do the sits together, so let's just assume they're with me during my sits from now on, and i'll note if they're not.)
glorious day, sun everywhere, blue sky everywhere, warmth in the air, earth uncovering, streams running over the land and carrying the snow underground. more and more mole/vole tunnels appearing. the hollows of their tunnels have shown up, joining their mounds of excavated soil.
the vegetable garden is awakening, the garlic poking its head up, the raspberry canes emerging from the snow.
the whole world seemed to be bustling with mechanical human activity today. much of my sensing was inundated with these doings; my eyes saw the lull being worked next door and the cars and trucks going by, my nose smelled the diesel from various machines, my ears heard trucks, the lull, table saws. i couldn't hear any birds because of the ruckus, and my brain was so concerned with the human activities that i didn't see any, either. i tuned in to the movement of the breeze moving the branches only when i wanted the boy to see them moving - it triggered me to watch them myself.
realized today that the building of the house behind ours will not only disrupt the animals' lives and our privacy, but also my ability to sense the natural world, since it will undoubtedly generate as much noise at times as the next-door lull and saws did today.
glorious day, sun everywhere, blue sky everywhere, warmth in the air, earth uncovering, streams running over the land and carrying the snow underground. more and more mole/vole tunnels appearing. the hollows of their tunnels have shown up, joining their mounds of excavated soil.
the vegetable garden is awakening, the garlic poking its head up, the raspberry canes emerging from the snow.
the whole world seemed to be bustling with mechanical human activity today. much of my sensing was inundated with these doings; my eyes saw the lull being worked next door and the cars and trucks going by, my nose smelled the diesel from various machines, my ears heard trucks, the lull, table saws. i couldn't hear any birds because of the ruckus, and my brain was so concerned with the human activities that i didn't see any, either. i tuned in to the movement of the breeze moving the branches only when i wanted the boy to see them moving - it triggered me to watch them myself.
realized today that the building of the house behind ours will not only disrupt the animals' lives and our privacy, but also my ability to sense the natural world, since it will undoubtedly generate as much noise at times as the next-door lull and saws did today.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Tuesday, April 8
twilight sit with the boy and the dog on the porch.
woodcocks twittering in their circles, robins "deent"ing in their trees. snow is in fast retreat, giving way to the muddy, grassy flats of our back yard.
glorious day, blue skies as far as the eye could see, warm sun, cool breeze.
our tree frog pond has arrived along with the melting snow; it exists in the shallow cavity in the ground that once held an above-ground pool. the stars were beginning to reflect in it as i sat, amongst last year's cattail stalks. the moon is just a sliver, sinking after the sun.
woodcocks twittering in their circles, robins "deent"ing in their trees. snow is in fast retreat, giving way to the muddy, grassy flats of our back yard.
glorious day, blue skies as far as the eye could see, warm sun, cool breeze.
our tree frog pond has arrived along with the melting snow; it exists in the shallow cavity in the ground that once held an above-ground pool. the stars were beginning to reflect in it as i sat, amongst last year's cattail stalks. the moon is just a sliver, sinking after the sun.
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