The Little Dog and the Gray Fox

Miss Blossom 7-18-14

There once was a little black and white dog who moved to the country where she went in and out of her little gray cottage to sniff in the yard and smell all the smells. Every morning and every night her owner would let her out for some exercise and her bathroom breaks. The world was full of birds and squirrels and chipmunks. Sometimes neighborhood dogs would stop by to say hello. But mostly all was peaceful and quiet.

Then one day a gray fox showed up beneath the bird feeders. Though there wasn’t much there, the fox would come every morning and every night to nibble on the scraps beneath the feeders. The bird lady who fed the birds, and the little dog’s owners liked to see the fox. It made they feel happy in their “peaceable kingdom.” But one day when the master let the little dog outside in the morning the fox was still there.

The little dog growled at the fox and looked back towards the house. The fox just stood there and stared at the dog. The master looked out the door and saw the fox just standing there. He saw the little dog just standing there. He did not like the fact that the fox did not run away when the little dog growled at it. So, the master came up with a plan.

The next night when it was dark, the master went outside and peed all around the feeder pole. He had heard this was a way that you could keep wild animals from coming into your yard. I know it seems strange, but this is the way that animals communicate with each other, and it worked! 

While the gray fox has been seen darting across the edge of the yard, it never stops to eat beneath the feeder anymore and the little dog can now go out without fear. This makes the master very happy! Meanwhile, the grass beneath the feeder has turned a lovely dark green. The nitrogen in the urine has fertilized the soil!

This is a True Story!

By Kathie Adams Brown

Nothing Stays the Same

 Sycamore Canyon 8-8-2008

I took a drive out to Sycamore Canyon yesterday. I have been wanting to do this for days. Finally I was free after dropping the grandson at school and I headed south on Houghton Rd. I stop at the Rita Ranch Fry’s to buy a coffee and a bag of Smartfood popcorn, but as soon as I park the car and open my door I hear a Verdin calling. Next thing you know I am counting birds in the parking lot! This used to be my regular stomping grounds when I lived in corona de Tucson 15 miles south of here. As I walk inside I think to myself, I rarely come here now and soon I will not come here at all. After making my purchases I get back in the car and drive around the parking lot just to see if there are any more birds to count before I get back on the road.

Mt. Fagan in Corona de Tucson 7-22-2010

I always like the drive up to Corona de Tucson. The road used to be a country road, narrow and quiet. But now as I head south I see a new Houghton Town Center sign at the junction of Old Vail Road and Houghton. Houghton Town Center? Are they creating a new town here called Houghton? There is already a fast food Chinese place on the corner and down over the hillside yet another Walmart has risen from the dust of the desert. The once wild area has been scraped clean of all vegetation and massive asphalt parking lots have been laid out for more stores and restaurants to go in. I suppose it is not so bad hear because it is already near an industrial area and the highway, but I still now that birds and wildlife have been displaced to make room for this “progress.” I am sure the people who live nearby will be thankful they do not have to drive as far to get to Walmart!

Gila Woodpecker in Sycamore Canyon 6-14-2009

I drive up over the train tracks, cross the highway, and continue my way south. As I drive I am scanning the utility poles for Red-tailed hawks. While I used to see them all along Houghton road, I only see one until I pass the Pima County Fairgrounds. Between Dawn Road and Sahuarita Road I spot three individual hawks on the sides of the road, along with a common Raven, a Phainopepla and a pair of cactus wrens and a pair of Red-shafted Northern Flickers! But there is yet another change since I lived out here before: Not only have they put two new schools in on the west side of Houghton, I also notice the increase in traffic in both directions as I drive. I want to stop and count more birds, but there are at least five cars behind me, and the one directly behind me looks like it might be a cop, so I keep on driving.

 Purple Martins flying over Sycamore Canyon 6-14-2008

When I reach the intersection I am trying to decide if I should go straight or turn right. I want to shake this car on my tail. I decide to turn right. It follows me. I am hoping that it will go straight when I turn onto South Harrison Road, the Road that leads to Sycamore Canyon. I watch in my rearview mirror. It does not turn on its turn signal so I turn on mine and pull into the turning lane.  So does the white car with the large antenna behind me.

Sycamore Canyon 6-14-2008

Now I am heading uphill towards Sycamore Canyon but I want to turn onto a dead end road to count birds. With the white car still on my tail, I decide to turn left onto Comino del Toro. I figure I do not want to be alone on a dead end road if this person is following me. I look again to see if the driver behind me has his blinker on. He does not. We are very near the turn, so I turn mine on and slow down. He does the same! Now my heart is beating faster as I make the turn. I also notice a phainopepla and a mourning dove up on the wires. My car crosses the cattle guard and I am starting to think of what my strategy should be if this vehicle continues to follow me. I decide I will cross Comino del Toro and head for the Road Runner Market back down on the junction of Houghton and Sahuarita Road when suddenly the white car makes a right turn into one of the neighborhoods! Finally! I pull off onto a parallel street which is marked out for more housing but hasn’t been developed yet and take a deep breath, but not for long.

Sycamore Canyon 7-22-2010

Around me now is open desert scrub with ocotillo, mesquite, prickly pear and various other plants rising from the desert. On a nearby cholla I see a Curve-billed thrasher perched. Poking around on the ground and in the bushes and cacti are a couple of cactus wrens. A phainopepla flits about catching insects, and on another nearby bush a Rufous-winged sparrow calls! Bingo! This is one of the species I was hoping to see while out here! It is species number 86 for my 2014 Year List and my Big January List! However, as I sit here I remember how this place used to look.

To the north of my position, which is down slope, it used to be open desert grassland. I would often see Western kingbirds here in summer, and it was a great place to find sparrows in winter. Various Raptors used to course over the slopes, including red-tailed and Swainson’s hawks, kestrels and northern harriers, and once in a while a Peregrine Falcon. Now all that is gone, filled in by suburbia. Hundreds of new homes have been built cheek to jowl with more lots being sold every day. The spot where I am parked has ornate iron fencing alongside it with new road entrances cut out ready to tear up the remaining desert and put in even more housing. These once rich slopes full of wildlife are being denuded more and more each year. Soon the very reason that people move out here will be destroyed. While some wildlife that is able to adapt will remain, I know that much of it is gone already, and it makes me sad.

Rufous-winged Sparrow in Sycamore Canyon 11-21-2009

I continue along Comino del Toro and find a few more birds alongside the road. A Say’s Phoebe makes a sortie into the sky and returns to its perch. At the east end of Comino del Toro a kestrel looks down at me from atop a utility pole with dark round eyes. It appears to look straight at me and I can see the gleam in its moist eye as it looks over its shoulder. It is so cute to me, yet it too, looks sad. I turn my car around and head back towards Sycamore Canyon. As soon as I turn left, I turn left again. I am now officially in Sycamore Canyon. At this point Harrison Road turns left and dead ends, while to continue straight on would now be Sycamore Leaf Road. I like to pull off onto this dead end and park to count birds. There is open desert around me and a wash to the north. No one comes down this road, so I am usually not disturbed, but I know I can usually see some good birds here on this short two-tenths of a mile stretch. There are plans to eventually run this road up the mountainside where I suppose even more houses will go in, but first they need to fill in all the rest of the open space they have already destroyed below.

 Mourning Dove in Sycamore Canyon 11-4-2009

As I get out of the car I start putting on my binoculars and getting my camera ready. I wore long pants thinking it would be a bit chilly out here, but the sun is quickly warming this place and I shed my extra layers of shirts and remain with only one long-sleeved one on. I brought along a sleeveless shirt just in case and I am starting to think I will need it! But right now I just want to count the birds. I am looking and hoping for more sparrows here, but I am seeing dozens of Mourning Doves as well as a few House Finches.

Canyon Towhees in Sycamore Canyon 3-20-2009

Gila woodpeckers are calling, as are Curve-billed thrashers and Cactus wrens. Finally I see and hear a few Black-throated sparrows, and then I find a pair of Canyon Towhees. A bit farther down the road a covey of quail moves slowly through desert making soft almost cooing noises as they move. I can tell they are wondering if I am a threat, but I move slowly as well and make no moves towards them and they slip away into the desert.

 Black-throated sparrow in Sycamore Canyon 11-13-2008

I am soon distracted from the quail when a few White-crowned Sparrows hop up onto a nearby Palo Verde tree. These are the Gambel’s subspecies as they do not have the black lores of the Mountain subspecies. Most have the crisp black and white striped heads, but a few have the tan striped heads of first year sparrows. I watch them for a few moments, knowing that it will be more rare to see them on the east coast, then continue on my way, but I am nearing the main road now where vehicles continue to move up and down the road. All this time I have been assaulted by the constant rumble and fume belching noise of heavy machinery across the street. I do not know what is going on over there but every time one of the heavy pieces of equipment backs up it makes that loud “beep! Beep! Beep!” that everyone is familiar with. The soft twitterings of Lesser Goldfinches are all but lost in the noise as I turn and head back toward my car.

 Costa’s Hummingbird feeding frenzy in Sycamore Canyon 10-29-2009

I think that I have seen all the birds I will see here on this little side road, but then I find small Costa's hummingbird pumping its tail as it pokes around the twigs and branches of a nearby tree. While the male of this species can look quite ferocious for its size, the female has a sweet look to her face. She is so tiny! I am constantly amazed by these little brilliant birds! Costa’s hummingbirds love these desert slopes and I used to get 12 to 14 of them at one time at my feeders during the winter when I lived here. I wonder how many I would see if I still lived here now.

Sherri’s yard 7-27-2010

It is now after 10:30 a.m. and my bladder is warning me I need a restroom break. My other purpose for coming out here was to say good-bye to my friend, Sherri, so I decide now is the time to visit her and take care of both needs at once! I spend over two hours with my friend and though we sat outside the entire time facing the open desert I only counted a couple of a ravens, a Red-tailed hawk, yet another Costa’s Hummingbird, a Verdin, a couple of Mourning Doves and we hear a few Gambel’s Quail moving through the desert below us. It is nearly 1 pm when I leave and head for the Sycamore Canyon Wash.

Rattlesnake in Sycamore Canyon Wash 5-11-2008

Sycamore Canyon Wash is a holds a special place in my heart. It was here that I first started eBirding. It is here that I first honed my skills and learned about desert life. I used to love my walks up the desert wash and I would see so many birds! I have even found a Gila Monster here while hiking years ago. I also almost stepped on a rattlesnake once while hiking here with my husband, Gus, on International Migratory Bird day in May. That’s when I learned to stay out of the wash during spring and summer!

While at Sheri’s house I changed out of my long-sleeve shirt and into my tank top. Now I slather my arms with sun block before heading off into the desert. As I am making my preparations I am watching a Cactus Wren and then a Black-tailed gnatcatcher as they both move through the cholla cactus and mesquite and acacia around me. I am remembering all the birds I have seen in this area before and hoping I will see them yet again. I soon heard the piercing call of a Gilded flicker ring over the wash, but once I head in that direction I am unable to locate the bird. I know I have seen Pyrrhuloxias and rock wrens here before, but today there is only quiet. The gravel path crunches beneath my feet as I head uphill. The warm sun blazes down on me if I stop but if I stay moving it’s not so bad. Once in awhile a slight breeze tease me as if wafts across my face and arms. I have my water bottle swinging at my side just in case.

Kathie hiking in Sycamore Canyon 11-15-2008

As I move up the gravel road that runs alongside the wash I am scanning both sides for birds. I see a Curve-billed thrasher down below and watch a Gila woodpecker as it clings to its hole in a Saguaro. I know I will miss these plants and the uniqueness of the Sonoran Desert, but I feel a change has happened in my heart and I keep thinking of the Atlantic coast and the blue water and all the birds I will see there. Finally I reach the spot when the trail divides and I head down into the wash itself.

  Sycamore Canyon Wash 11-15-2008

I intend to walk back down the wash to my car, but as I near the cliff base I use to walk along I can’t help turn south and head up a short distance. Besides, I hear some sort of bird calling and I want to see what it is. As I turn, suddenly a Great Horned Owl takes silent flight from its hidden roost in a twisted mesquite tree. It flies low and ponderously up the wash before me and all I see is its gray-brown back and pointed wings as it flies. Even from this angel I can see the round head and no neck of this magnificent bird! I had no idea it was there until it flew.

Great Horned Owl in Sycamore Canyon 8-8-2008

I only walk another tenth of a mile before turning back, but this little detour paid off with the owl and a Bewick’s Wren I found scampering along a tree trunk. I looked farther up the wash where it all use to be wild, but now there are large “Estate Homes” overhanging the canyon walls and cluttering up the view. I walked back west towards my car in the wash.

The iron-oxide cliffs rise above me on either side with the exposed roots of mesquite trees twisting like large varicose veins from the edges. Still, it is so silent here! I know some of that has to do with the time of day and the time of year, but I can’t help thinking I used to see more birds here. I have not seen even one Phainopepla in the wash, and I know I used to see one here regularly in winter.

Phainopepla in Sycamore Canyon Wash 11-4-2008

I can feel that I am sad and discouraged by this visit. I guess I really did come to say Good-bye. I thought that I would feel some sense of regret or longing, but I don’t. I guess I really am ready to move on. I am so happy for the memories of my time here back in 2007 to 2010. Those were the good years when things were still raw and undeveloped. Now it has all changed, but so have I, and I want something different now I think.

 

I think driving out here yesterday helped me make peace with this move. I don’t feel restless anymore. Seeing the changes in Corona de Tucson and Sycamore Canyon helped me let go of that place. I did leave with a sense of loss, not so much for myself, but for what was. When I first moved there I thought the idea the developer had was good, of trying to preserve the land and have man live in harmony with nature, but at the moment it seems the development has gone too far. Sycamore Canyon is not responsible for all of the development. The lower slopes have been developed by others. It is too bad that someone did not see the value in saving what used to be pasture and wild lands. I wish the cows were still grazing where the new neighborhoods now stand! When I got home last night, I wrote the following poem:

An Ode to Sycamore Canyon

A Walk in the Tanque Verde Wash

Cottonwood Sunset in the Tanque Verde Wash 

December 18, 2013: It’s a partially cloudy Wednesday afternoon and I am caught up in the usual rush of holiday preparations. I’ve been working on making my own Christmas Card since last week and I am down to the final formatting. I am trying to get this done before Chris calls to tell me he is on his way to the Tanque Verde Wash where we plan on meeting and searching for a vagrant Magnolia Warbler that has been seen there. I have only birded that wash one time before and that was when I first met Chris in the fall of 2012. It was a hot day that day and though we saw some great birds, we both remember it as being hot, dusty and sort of miserable. We have not gone back since. But, the chance to get a magnolia warbler is enticing, and so we agree to a plan.

Chris calls me as I am formatting text on my computer. He is on his way but it will take him awhile to get here from his location on the northwest side of Tucson. I grab my painting and head out the door to a printer in a nearby shopping center. With a bit of consultation we agree to a price and a plan, but I have to rush back home to reformat one section of the printed document and re-email it to them. Chris calls just as I pull into the driveway. I tell him I will be there soon. I go as fast as I can and drive back to the printers. I want to get this done today! We soon have things set and I am off!

It doesn’t take me long to drive to Wentworth Road where the trailhead is for the wash. I am talking to Chris on my Bluetooth the whole time I am driving. He tells me he has located the warbler. I wind my way through the construction on Houghton Road. Though the air is warm, overhead the clouds continue to thicken into a velvety gray blanket. In a few places there is a tear in the cover and silvery light streams through. I turn west onto Speedway towards the Rincon Mountains. Ahead of me a line of cars drives slowly behind a horse trailer. To my dismay the entire line of cars turns north onto Wentworth Road! I creep along slowly past the old ranches where the horse trailer finally pulls over and the other cars proceed. One pulls into a driveway and another forges ahead in the direction I am going. I can see Chris standing by his car ahead of me. I turn my car around and pull in behind him.

Last time I was here Chris and I hiked the east side of the wash. This time we head down the sandy trail to the west. The gravel trail is the width of a four-wheeler and I listen as the gravel crunches beneath my feet. Desert broom, mesquite and acacia are just some of the bushes that line the wash. Here by the road the trees and bushes are small and the area looks wide and open, but up ahead I can see tall cottonwoods tossing golden leaves the size of small plates to the ground. To the north there is some kind of human activity with heavy machinery making loud, growling noises. Still, we can see and hear a few mourning doves and white-crowned sparrows in the brush as we pass. Then Chris stops me as we near the location where he spotted the magnolia warbler.

We have not walked very far down the trail; only about ¼ of a mile. Here the tall cottonwoods shade smaller trees and bushes and we are on the edge of what I later learn is a golf course and some maintenance buildings. The light is soft and gray with muted shadows. The air is still and calm, but our hearts are pounding as Chris spots the warbler bouncing around in a small nearby tree. I get my bins on it and see the bright yellow breast and belly. I see the darker back and its wingbars. I start to raise my camera to get a shot when Chris steps a bit closer to take another picture himself and the bird flies off toward the maintenance building! And though we hunt for it, we cannot relocate it again. We spot a few Western Bluebirds also flitting around in the same trees, but when a big and loud piece of machinery drives by, all the birds flee and the woods grow quiet.

As Chris and I are standing there on a golden carpet with a golden shower of leaves that continues to fall we suddenly see a horse and rider emerging from a tunnel of trees to the west. A gal is on a lovely cream-colored palomino horse which balks at the sight of us standing on the trail. Chris and I move off to the side as the rider encourages the horse to move on. Soon they are walking past us in a soft clip clop and I can’t help but wish that I was riding a horse through these still woods on this soft day.

Now that the horse and rider have left and the birds have all dispersed Chris and I decide to head farther down the trail to the west. We walk through that same tunnel of trees and emerge in a wider area of the wash with towering cottonwood trees and invasive phragmites lining the edges. These plumed reeds look so pretty, but they do not belong here in our desert washes. However, today I am not here to make environmental judgments. I just want to relax and enjoy this moment.

It feels so different here in this wash. I realize that I am missing such tall trees. I like the way it feels here and I want to stay. I no longer feel like I am in the desert, but rather a cottonwood forest with mesquite trees on the edges. In some spots I can see and smell the damp earth where the water moves just beneath the soil. Chris and I stop when we observe some bird action in the trees. Suddenly a flock of Western bluebirds flies in. Overhead we hear ravens calling. High in the trees a Gila woodpecker squeaks, and then I spot a small gray bird high in what looks like a slim poplar tree. At first glance as it sits behind a branch I almost think it is a cedar waxwing. Then, as the bird moves out from behind the branch its colors and patterns become evident. It is a yellow-rumped warbler. Shortly thereafter a ruby-crowned kinglet puts in an appearance, and then another small gray bird is spotted. Chris gets his camera on it while I try to decide what it is. When I see what look like pale gray spectacles around its eyes and two wingbars on a lead-gray body I start to get excited. Chris and I now both know that we are seeing a vireo. But is it Cassin’s or Plumbeous. After a few more minutes of observation and a study of Chris’s photos we realize we are seeing a Plumbeous vireo! There is no yellow wash on the flanks anywhere.

We continue west down the wash. Clouds thicken overhead. We both wonder if it is going to rain, though none was predicted for today. A woman walking the wash on the southern edge waves happily to us and wishes us Merry Christmas. She enthusiastically asks if we are seeing any good birds. The birds are between her and us. I try to answer politely and quietly but the birds all take flight from our noisy exchange! Oh well! I am still pleased by her kindness and friendly attitude and we walk on. Soon we are overtaken by the first horse and rider on their return trip.

All along the wash we encounter piles of brush and debris from the summer monsoon. In almost every one of these piles we find Abert’s towhees and White-crowned sparrows. Then, to our amazement, we find a lone chipping sparrows mixed in with the White-crowns!

I cannot tell you how it feels to walk in-between these towering cottonwood trees! I feel I have left the busy world behind and entered a place of peace and magic. This place seems so disconnected from the hustle and bustle of holiday traffic and activity. I must say that I did not want to leave! But as the sun slips farther towards the horizon it sends silver shafts of light shooting towards the dome that is our sky. One especially tall cottonwood tree is backlit by this light and transformed into an almost holy spectacle. Chris and I both pause to observe the tree at this moment. All the world falls silent and nothing moves. This is one thing I like about Chris. He knows how to be in the moment and he knows when to be quiet. As we move on from this spot we are both talking in whispers.

I can be lured ever onward by what is around the bend, but I know the daylight will soon end and I must return to my home and to the busy-ness that is this time of year. Ahead of us we see a little island of bush in the middle of the wash with a pile of debris surrounding that trunk of yet another tall tree. Atop the brush pile is what looks like a plywood board and leading up to this platform is a small wooden ladder. In front of the ladder and the platform a rope swing dangles with a wooden bar for grasping. It doesn’t take either of us long to realize this is a rope swing. We decide to walk just that far and turn back. While we don’t find many more birds in this location, we are still caught up in the jungle-like feel of this place and the ethereal light that we are bathed in.

Of course, since we are both children at heart we both take a turn at the rope swing. I am reluctant to left my feet and dangle by my arms since I am afraid I will pull my arms out of their sockets since it has been so long since I have even attempted something like this, but Chris does manage to briefly get his feet off the ground before he too stops the swing in fear the tree or the rope will break. It’s time to go and we know it. We turn our faces east and head back the way we came. As we walk the sandy trail a different horse and rider pass us. This girl is a bit friendlier and I comment on what a nice day it is for a ride. She enthusiastically agrees with me and we bid each other a good evening. As she passes by I feel the slight niggle of a childhood dream to own my own horse. It is a dream that has long since faded but every once in awhile emerges again. Then I think about the cost and danger and all those “practical” things and I stuff it back down once again. It’s best if that one stays a fond memory!

The woods behind and around us fall silent and it is not until we emerge into the wide area closer to the road that we start to see birds again. Then a Phainopepla flies overhead while pink and gray mourning doves gather like stones on branches. Beneath the doves a flock of white-crowned sparrows is on the move once again. I start to scan them for something different and though I hope for a rouge white-throated sparrow or even a golden-crowned sparrow all I find is yet another chipping sparrow mixed in with the flock.

As we make our way back to our parked cars we are rudely reminded of the real world when a border patrol truck comes rushing by with flashing lights and screaming siren. I have no idea what the emergency is but not long after I get a phone call from the printer. My Christmas cards are done and ready to be picked up! It’s time to go. Chris and I both get in our respective cars and drive off. The thought is not lost on either of us that soon we will not be able to do this. I try to savor the sweetness of this moment and not let myself cry. I know that moment is coming, but I push it farther down the road of time. Today I will revel in this moment and this feeling of magic and mystery on a walk in the Tanque Verde wash where we saw the Magnolia warbler and listened to the tink of Abert’s Towhees and the clip clop of horse’s hooves and where, for a brief moment I felt like a child again.

Links:

• Las Aventuras 
• Phragmites
• Birding the Tanque Verde Wash 2012
• Explore the Tanque Verde Wash eBird Hotspot

All on a Winter’s Day

 American Robin at Sacred Heart Park 2-6-12

It is a mild winter’s day in February when I set out to walk to Sacred Heart Park in Andover. I first came to this park over a year and a half ago. It was the very first day that we looked at this apartment which we are now renting. In that span of time I have only visited here a few times, watching and counting birds here whenever I could. It has been fairly quiet at the bog lately so I have been coming here more often, mostly to walk the dog, but today I am leaving the dog behind and bringing my camera and binoculars along instead.

I set off down a leaf strewn pathway behind the neighborhood houses and alongside the commuter rail tracks.

This is just a little strip of nature tucked in-between everything manmade, but I like it. Sometimes I see cardinals and even hawks along this path, but today it is fairly quiet. I see no birds.

At the end of the trail I cross the pavement to the soccer field and playground. A brilliant and cloudless blue sky is vaulted overhead. The mild temperatures have the feel of springtime about them, though the buds have yet to swell or the grass to start its flush of green. Here I turn southwest towards the tree line and walk along the edge of the woods. As I near the naked trees tied together with tangles of bittersweet vines I start to see a few robins. Lower down in the brush the dark-eyed juncos hop. I follow the along the edge of the field towards a path that leads to a bit of a clearing down by the Shawsheen River.

The sun is casting long shadows over the still brown grass. I see the Shawsheen glimmer in the cool winter’s sun. The river bends and twists here forming a small pond and a marshy area. As I head to a little wooded alcove at the top of a small hill I am surrounded on three sides by water and marsh. Only the grassy lawn I walk on is firm ground, and the rise of the woods towards the soccer field.

I look above me to the tangle of vines dotted with bright red berries. The robins are flitting about from tree to tree and back again.

Below the ground is littered with berries and they continue to drop like pebbles around me as birds forage in the treetops.

 

But as I stand here in the sunlight and shadow with bittersweet tangles rambling every where I am mesmerized by the soft sound of the thrush’s wings as they fly from place to place.

I watch and listen and close my eyes just to hear this soft sound, then, afraid I might miss something, I open my eyes again. It appears to be raining robins! I count 75 or more in this little woodland fluttering everywhere!

 

The brilliant blue sky shows off the brilliant red breast of this bird surrounded by berries so red and ripe. It is a perfect picture for me and I drink it all in.

 

 

 

In a nearby tree a little downy climbs the tree trunk searching for insects on this mild winter’s day.

 

 

I am feeling a bit dreamy with wonder as I wander back down the grassy slope towards the river’s edge.

 

As I head north I pass the little pond to my left formed as a backwater of the river. While the river is flowing, this little pond is still mostly frozen and I can see signs of a skating rink formed where someone had pushed the snow back. Now it is too slushy to skate on or even stand on. I can see melt water on top of the ice and a few places where it is totally melted through. Sparrows like to gather in the brush along these banks, and I can see a low branch hanging over the pond where I saw a phoebe hanging out one day last summer.

 

Above the frozen pond and mostly hidden in the trees I spot a yellow-shafted northern flicker perched on a branch. The red V on the back of its head and the bit of its white rump peeking out through its folded wings are all that give away its presence.

 

Though everything is bare and gray and naked, I see a spot of green moss across the river on the opposite shore reflected in the languid river. The Shawsheen rolls along shallow and lazy here. If it were summer it would be tempting to wade in this clear water, but today the thought of that cold water chills me to the bone.

 

From the bank of the river I look back up the slope I have just walked down. Sunlight and shadows play with my mind…

…for I see a monster in a tree!

 

 

I turn to follow the river where it takes another sharp bend as it heads north toward the Merrimack River to flow out to the Atlantic Ocean between Salisbury Beach and Plum Island, two of my other favorite places to bird. Here at this bend I once spotted a Belted Kingfisher, but there is none today. Just blue sky and russet brown leaves reflecting in the silent water.

 

Through the shallow water I gaze at ripples in the sand forming patterns on the river’s bottom, enhancing my dreamy state of mind.

 

The ground starts to rise steeply before me and with it the oak-lined river bank which is loosely carpeted with last year’s leaves.

 

Here I emerge from the woodland to the other section of the park. The buildings of Andover are visible beyond the grassy field.

A walking track circles the inner part of the field, but there are no birds there. Because the bank is so steep here a chain link fence has been erected along the river’s edge. I follow the fence line now, gazing through chain link for birds either in the trees above or below me in the water. I soon spot a few mallards floating lazily in the current. Overhead some mourning doves coo their mournful song. When I draw near they take flight, their wings whistling as the air rushes through them.

I am captivated by the contrast of russet leaves and cobalt blue water.

With the sunlight behind them the leaves just seem to glow.

I have such a peaceful and dreamy feeling now. I walk up to the chain link fence to view the river below. Here the fence stops at a short but steep slope down to a shallow flat area before coming to a stone edged drop off to the river below. The river is forced into a manmade channel here as it flows through the park to head out of town. As I near the edge of the fence I have my camera slung over my left shoulder and my bins on a harness across my chest. Sunlight is streaming down on me. The river looks so peaceful and lazy. I am feeling peaceful and dreamy and oh so happy to be outside. I take another step closer to the edge of the fence on what I think is solid ground and just as my hands are grasping the links the world slides out from beneath my feet!

I now realize the fence is not attached at the bottom! My fingers lock on the cold metal links. My feet are slipping and sliding on that russet carpet of oak leaves which had blown up against the bottom of the fence making it appear as if it were solid ground. Since the fence has now bent forward and away from the flat area behind me, my feet are beneath the bottom of the chain link and I am dancing on peanut butter. For a brief moment I dangle there like a scarecrow, the muscles in my arms taut, my mind racing. I don’t have time to think about how ridiculous I look. All I can think about it that cold water below and how I don’t want to be IN IT! I kickback to try to find a purchase and with a huge effort, find solid ground again and pull myself up and back. It is only when I am sure that I am standing on solid ground that I let go of the fence. I look below me to the river, flowing cold and dark and slow. It almost seems to be laughing at me. But I don’t care. I straighten myself out, dust myself off, and decide I’ve had enough of bird watching and nature for today.

That dreamy state of mind left with the adrenaline rush of survival. It’s time to go home for a cup of hot tea where I can watch birds safely out my kitchen window! But don’t you worry Shawsheen River, I will be back again!

~The End~