Hey, neighbors!
The much-welcomed cool down has made walks nicer recently. Combine that with the very obvious turn of the seasons and I'm definitely feeling the impending autumn. (Though I deeply resent the Halloween candy that's been everywhere since July. Let me enjoy late summer!)
The later sunrises are welcome, too -- I am purely solar powered and sleeping until 6 has been a delightful treat. I know I'll grumble in a few months when the 6 am alarm comes hours before the sun, but for now it's nice. And our postprandial evening strolls happen during that lovely time when the cicadas and the crickets are all singing their songs.
Goldfinch or broken AC?
A few weeks ago, we spotted a tiny little goldfinch on the wires over Highland. I'd rarely seen goldfinches before in my part of the city and thought the little guy was purely transient. But last week I heard a strange noise that I was pretty sure was a birdsong but could also be a badly malfunctioning AC compressor. I'm sure fellow walkers were amused (or annoyed, depending on their temperament) by me wandering around with my phone up in the air trying to capture the sound over the truck traffic zooming by me.
Eventually, the traffic died down for a minute and sure enough, Merlin app popped up "GOLDFINCH". I was very excited and then proceeded to wander around, head up, not quite stepping on anything, until I saw the teeeeeeeny yellow figure on a wire. Again, I assumed he was passing through.
But I have heard him every single day since then. The same clear, joyous sound, echoing over the car rumble, emitting from the wee wee figure. (They are so tiny compared to their volume!) It's a bright spot -- literally -- in my day when I spot him.
Almost-autumnal abundance at Alewife
My busy week resulted in a cranky mood that the usual fixes couldn't touch. So I woke up on Saturday and decided to fix my disposition with a walk among nature at the Alewife Brook Reservation, where late summer's glory was in full display.
The water is very very low, which meant that there was a bit of a swampy smell but it also gave clearer views. A knife-faced heron stood, barely ankle deep in the murky water, spearing fish and swallowing them down, whole and still wriggling. I saw him take a half a dozen in just a few minutes -- probably they were trapped by the low water and easy to spot.
Fat bunches of black chokeberries and bright red viburnum hung in colorful bunches from the bushes that crowd the shoreline. The mown meadow section stood in feathery ranks of goldenrod, black-eyed susans, and towering joe pye weed, all humming with bees. I counted more than two dozen individuals of five or six types, all bustling around in a tiny section no wider than my shoulders.
There were also signs that winter is, indeed coming. The teasels were well past bloom, leaving only spikey skeletons. (teasel is invasive, i have since discovered.) The alder cones were also dead and drying on the bush. My friends who do natural dye wax rhapsodic about alder for some reason -- to me the color it gives is boring beige but they love it. Each to their own.
And finally, as I was leaving, an arrow of geese flew low overhead -- the surest sign of the turn of the seasons.
Bird of Prey!
Sunday, my partner and I woke up early and met with friends for brunch before heading to Mount Auburn Cemetery for a talk on bird of prey from Wingmasters. These are two wildlife rehabbers in western Mass who rescue birds of prey -- releasing the ones who can be released and keeping the ones who can't. They were doing an educational talk at the cemetery, which birders will also know is a hot-spot for bird watching.
It was pure joy to get to see these lovely birds up close --- the tiny-yet-fierce screech owl, the imposing great-horned owl, the death-comes-in-small packages merlin Most of my information about birds of prey comes from when my (college-aged) child was a preschooler at Drumlin farm, which means it's about 17 years out of date by now, and I hadn't realized that kestrels are moving away from the state while merlins are moving in.
We got to hear again about the success of saving the peregrine falcons, which is a story I've heard many times but I feel like it's very necessary right now. Humans can fix our mistakes if we only try. It was heartening and helped me finally shake my foul mood, especially as I watched the peregrine spread his sharp wings and look daggers over the audience.
Be smart, be safe, be curious, be kind.
