autumn recollections

While the baby sleeps after his first round of shots and I listen idly to the Jeopardy! Teen Tournament, I figured I'd record some recent thoughts and events.

We had one day of ladybug infestation. Clouds of them buzzing in the sunbeams, hundreds stuck to the side of the house. It wasn't just here, either; friends from all over mentioned the same phenomenon. It was kind of cool! We even had one in the nursery, crawling up the alphabet painting over the changing table. The ladybug paused on its own picture for just a moment. A neat juxtaposition.

About 2 weeks ago I hung a suet feeder from the clothesline in the backyard. I've had a few visitors - mostly house sparrows, but also some downy woodpeckers and a white-breasted nuthatch. The suet cake is gone now, replaced with half a stale PBJ.

While walking our babies, a friend and I saw a family of turkeys a few yards into the woods. Not 14 turkeys like I saw in our yard a few weeks ago, but more like three or four. I worry for the animals in my neighborhood. Some big company bought one of the swathes of woodland and put up a fence and now the deer can't get through. And the stables down the road razed quite a bit of land for horse pastures. The turkeys, deer, coyotes, raccoons and foxes are running out of room to live in peace around here.

My mother-in-law said she saw a fisher cat early one morning last week. I hope I see one someday, and yet I am terrified for that moment. My dad told me they sound like someone screaming in the woods, and that really interested me so I did some research. I found some pictures and boy, are they ferocious-looking! I wouldn't want to cross a fisher cat. Yikes!

That open land I found a few weeks ago off Melody Lane - I've been visiting its edge regularly on my bike rides and with the baby on our walks. Lots of good birds over there, and hardly any cars, at least not in the day when everyone's at work. I looked on a map to see the shape of the land and whether it had a name. None that I could find, but I did visit the other side and I found a sign proclaiming it a wildlife refuge and prohibiting hunting. I wonder if that means it's open to the public. It seems sort of swampy but I'd go in prepared.

I was out for a bike ride one afternoon this week. I debated bringing my binocs, because I know if I bring them, I'll look at birds and that is not exercise. I should use my half-hour of bike time to get my heart pumping. So I didn't bring them. But boy did I regret that! As soon as I was too far from home to make it worth turning back for them, waves and waves of Canada geese appeared over the horizon. I heard their cacophony even before I saw them. They flew in over me and seemed to turn at a right angle and head off beyond Neutaconkanut Hill. I watched the last string disappear, bade them have a nice winter and pedaled off.

The leaves have been gorgeous this year. If I recall correctly, RI gets the good leaves about 2 weeks before NYC, and NYC gets spring flowers maybe a whole month earlier than RI does. My mother-in-law drove baby and me to Putnam, CT, today for an appointment, and I couldn't believe the difference a few weeks makes in terms of foliage. When last we drove that way in mid-October, the trees were brilliant in all their flaming glory - red, orange, yellow, brown, gold, and green. Now the hillsides are a nearly uniform shade of rust - at least the trees that still have leaves are. The Great Dump is upon us, and soon I will find some innocent leaf pile to storm!

starting him young

I took my little hatchling for an afternoon walk on this lovely fall day. I wanted to test out his new fancy stroller on our suburban streets. He really liked lying in its bassinet and watching the sky, trees, and birds whiz by. And for a mile-and-a-half walk, we saw some great birds.

blue jay
cardinal
robin
catbird
turkey vulture
mockingbird
mourning dove
grackle
song sparrow
osprey

The osprey seemed out of place in our neighborhood, since we're nowhere near water. I'm so glad I looked up!

A few days ago in the early afternoon, we spotted three red-tails over Neutaconkanut Hill. A day before that I thought I spotted a peregrine falcon, but I didn't have my binocs with me to be sure. The one time I didn't toss them in the stroller basket!

I discovered this odd patch of meadow in the middle of our neighborhood. Unfortunately, it's surrounded by mounds of dirt that I can't get a stroller over. But the edges of the meadow are home to many types of trees and brush, and today I found this area is home to lots of birds. The hatchling and I will be visiting that place again tomorrow!

a long time coming

My life has changed dramatically in the months I've been away from this blog. Here's a quick update:
1. moved from Brooklyn to live with family in Rhode Island
2. watched our car die an epic and triumphant death
3. am currently unemployed, but quite busy because we
3. had a baby! He's awesome and we're so happy he's here.

There's nothing like Prospect Park in our new neighborhood, so most of my sightings are in the backyard or in nearby wooded areas or meadows. What prompted me to write today was what I saw in our backyard as I returned from a walk with my baby and my mom. A family of turkeys a dozen or so strong popped into our yard through a hole in the hedgerow, pecked around for a few minutes, and made its way into a neighbor's yard. A few of them went through a hole in the fence, but most of them flew over the short chain-link fence separating the two yards. I'd never seen turkeys in flight before! They were beautiful. I especially liked seeing their tails spread wide as they lumbered over the fence.

I don't know how frequently I'll update this - I do have a two-week-old baby to take care of. But I take him out to look at nature every day, so if I see anything magical, you'll be the first to know!

birds as signs

I believe some people are more in touch with the universe and its inhabitants than other people. I visited a spiritual intuitive (the real ones don't call themselves 'psychics') a few months ago, someone I had never met, and who knew absolutely nothing about me but my first name. It was an incredible session, and I won't go into it here. I just want to preface this entry by saying that she pegged me as someone the cosmos was sending birds to, that birds would be important to me, that birds would come as signs specifically for me. Basically, I should pay attention to the birds, she told me. I was stunned, thrilled, and deeply amused that the universe should be able to communicate so much that's already inherent in me to a complete stranger.

I had a harrowing five minutes earlier this week. It was the first time in my six or so years of nannying that I've lost a child. He ran off playing tag with a friend, and a crowd separated us. I was confident he would not cross the street, as he's a very rules-oriented kid, so I chatted for about 30 seconds with the mom of the friend he'd run off with. When I realized I could no longer see my charge, I grabbed girl-child's hand and we walked calmly in the direction he had gone. I looked up the block, down, and across, but he wasn't in sight. I thought asking the school crossing guard might yield information but she, instead of helping, went on a tirade about lazy babysitters. It was while she was talking to me and I was trying to keep girl-child calm ("this is not like him," she said, squeezing my hand) that I looked up. Far off and high in the distance, three great blue herons flew through a great blue sky, legs trailing behind. I understood instantly that things would work out fine and that boy-child was safe and would soon be returned to me. It was a split-second of utter calm when I realized the universe was sending me a sign, one I had forgotten to ask for. Moments later, with the crossing guard still jabbering, I heard someone calling my name - the friend's mom, right where I had left her, with both boys safely returned. Thank you, thank you, thank you, my heart cried to the universe, for their safe return, for a lesson learned, and for my first sign.

in nature's infinite book of secrecy, I can read a little

Yesterday I had work only from 6-9 p.m., so I made sure to get out into the sunshine for a few hours in the afternoon. Lots of the usual birds were about, creating an irregular but pleasant cacophony in the air all around. People were out in full force as well, lounging on the lawns, lobbing objects into the air to be retrieved by friends or canines, or just strolling joyfully into the green, like me.

I love the feeling I sometimes get of being in on Mother Nature's secrets, as if she puts her hand on my shoulder and whispers, "I made this just for you." Yesterday afternoon I had just come through the secluded Lullwater paths out to the bridge across from the Boathouse. I noticed a distinct shift in the feeling of peace in the air. It was a shift from my personal "reveling-in-nature's details" (fungi growing on fallen trees, robins buried in leaf litter in search of the perfect worm) sort of peace to a more communal "hey everyone, isn't this a great day to be alive" (let's throw sticks in the water and climb on rocks and soak in the sun) kind of feeling. It was just as I felt that kinship with all these human friends, in their separate lives joined by sunlit joy, that I felt Mother Nature's hand steer me to the water's edge. The gift she left for me that day was perched on a short branch sticking up from the water - an impossibly tiny eastern painted turtle. I looked around in disbelief that no one else had noticed or was marvelling at this tiny fellow, warming in the sun like the rest of us. I took some photos but they don't do justice to the smallitude of the creature. It's a hard lesson to learn, but some things are meant to be enjoyed in the moment of experience and only in fond memory thereafter.

Last night as I made my way to the train after work, I had a completely different experience. Two men had a powerful telescope set up outside Smiling Pizza, and I must have been smiling quizzically as I approached, because one of them asked if I'd like to look at Saturn. I jumped at the chance, of course, and saw that distant planet, its rings vertical, and two other heavenly bodies nearby, relatively speaking, and the blackness which holds them all. I saw something that's so impossibly far away that it makes everything we know to be past that point seem all the more unlikely. I love being reminded of just how small we are and how little we know, because it makes the journey to understanding that much longer and the drive to get somewhere that much more urgent. It's humbling yet challenging, and I think that's a good place for humanity to have to start over again and again. We're a curious and resilient species, and I hope we never find out all there is to know, because thenceforth there will be no place for hope in the world. And just as much as humans need love to survive, there's something to be said for the presence of hope in the individual and in society. I wondered briefly at the chances that any regular person would ever get to see something as magnificent and far-off as Saturn. Then I realized those men must love the sky and its contents as much as I love the Earth and its inhabitants. The wonders are waiting for us all around, hidden and giggling like guests at a surprise party. All we have to do as guests of honor is show up.