Out of Hiding

Thrasher, Brown, tear up the ground
Root the devil out of the woodpile

Rusted back, speckled chest
Your little ones have left the nest
Now you and your missus must teach them

Out of hiding and into the yard
You show your face awhile

Curved bill, evening trill
Mock the mockingbirds for me
And stare with your black-eyed-susans

Hide in the hedges, stalk the sedges
Eat whatever fills you

This week I realized the Brown Thrashers have lately been frequenting the yard more...well...frequently. Usually I only see (or more often hear) one as it lurks on the wood's edge. With my little, zoom challenged, point and shoot camera, I haven't been able to steal a photo (which explains my wordy substitute above).

It has been a treat to watch the Thrasher couple scampering around the yard collecting all manner of bugs, worms, and berries for the young ones. They are deliberate, serious birds. You can see it in their eyes.

One of their little ones ended up in the garden some how yesterday...must have fluttered down from the nearby poplar. As I cornered the little chirper and dropped him on the other side of the fence, momma and papa chattered fiercely from the lowest branch of the poplar. The fledgling, not yet equipped to fly, hopped to the edge of the yard.
I'm sure it is now getting a lesson on how to hide in the bushes.

Garden update 1 2009

Garden update 1 2009

The veggie plants are coming along just fine. Some are doing better than others of course. I'm using a lunar planting guide for the first time this season...and enjoying the process. Lettuce has been tasty. Little turnips turned into a simple soup. Next will be the peas. One rabbit so far...it nibbled on the beet leaves and pea plants, then I shot him...with the water hose...I'm such a wuss.

This Spring's Obsession

This spring I’ve been focusing on the local woodland flowering plants. In the past, I’ve had an appreciation for native plants, but not much of an understanding. Last summer, when Heather and I were hiking on a weekly basis, I started paying closer attention to the woodland dwellers. At the end of each walk I would relax back at home with a few field guidebooks to figure out what people call the plants I had seen. Along with the names came their habitats, geographies, historical uses, and flowering times. I began to realize that I had missed many of their flowering periods.

The idea, which has grown into this spring’s obsession, took root last summer when I stumbled upon a simple, yet elegant, three-leaved, straight-stemmed plant growing near a dead-end path along the banks of my favorite local river. I didn’t know exactly what the plant was. All I knew is that it looked unique amongst its neighbors, and it bore resemblance to the mountain Trilliums that my parents admire. But without flowers to distinguish it, I was going to have to wait awhile to identify it.

So, as this fascination and curiosity spread to other plants, I decided to start early this spring and make the weekly rounds and check on the local plants. Since the last frost, I have been hitting the trails, camera in tow, to watch the plants circle through their cycles. I’ve had many satisfying finds. However, the one that had started this whole adventure was letting me down. I had found the three-leaved mystery plant early in the season and had checked it weekly, but it did not seem to be setting blooms…and it appeared to be running out of time.

Heather came with me on today’s rounds. I did the usual check…still no blooms…or even a hint of blooms. Heather pushed on ahead and, from around the bend in the trail, I heard “Jayyyyyyson…come here!” And there they were…in tender bloom! These were big plants…much larger than the few I had been checking on for weeks. Why hadn’t I come this far during all of my walks??? I started clicking away with the camera and scrambled into the woods for more…ticks and poison ivy be damned! I believe my heart was racing as fast as it was during last week’s triathlon. All for a little flower…which I now can rightly call Catesby’s Trillium.

Jack's Back

This morning, before things got hot, we took the big red canoe out for the first trip of the season. Of course we went to the upper Eno, just down the road from our home. Along the banks, rosy Pinxter (wild azalea) flowers hovered over the water and made me wonder if the bees and hummingbirds know the beauty from which they feast. Further upstream we explored. Despite the many trips along this route, the new season always brings surprises. We navigated carefully around a snag of downed tree limbs and rocky boulders just as a two-foot-long snapping turtle glided gracefully, though startlingly, away from our commotion. Dinosaurs are still among us…trust me (right Heather!).

This season, during our hikes and paddles, I have been paying careful attention to the wild flower blooms that I missed last year. My interest seems to be two-part: 1) appreciate the natural beauty and 2) learn a little more about the life cycles of these neighbors.



For this day, I had planned to take a quick walkabout halfway into the trip to see if there were any Lady Slipper plants in a thicket of pines I had seen before. My parents have Lady Slippers under the pines on their mountain property. Well, I didn’t find any of the rare orchids, but I did happen upon the secret Jack-in-the-Pulpit. Last year I missed their blooms, but wrote about their brilliant seed clusters in August. Yes, Jack’s back and, hidden below a rather ordinary cluster of green leaves; he sits in the moist shade soaking up the breath of the river. I now know, at least in our area, the Jacks bloom in late April and seed in August: More clues to a scavenger hunt that will keep me entertained for years to come…all in high definition. Now I just need to find those Lady Slippers.

To Check on Spring Blooms

It was a nice outdoor Easter Weekend in Hillsborough. Saturday morning warmed slowly as we took a short walk, down by the Eno at Occaneeche Mountain, to check on spring blooms. We had a surprise towards the end of the walk; fortunately I spotted it before Heather and was able to give her advanced warning. She handled it well. And so did it.

Sunday was a little warmer, with less wind. Most of the day was spent in the garden where I seeded the tomatoes, cucumbers and peas. The quick little wren kept watch throughout the day. If I left the garden for more than 20 minutes, a pair of doves dropped down to pick through the fresh-turned soil. Photos of the garden will be added soon.

I'm pretty itchy.

Happy Spring

I finally put the first seeds in the ground for this season’s garden. Now begins the weather-watching! I have a few more things to do in preparation. The pole beans will need some poles and the shell peas will need a trellis. The tomatoes will need staking. And I’m going to piece together a perch for the cucumbers this year. Oh yeh, we are already getting lettuce from the winter cold-frame (a first for us!). Anyway, it feels good to be back in the garden.

On another note, as I yawned at the bedroom window this morning, my foggy eyes caught sight of the illusive pileated woodpecker rooting around on the old rotting log at the edge of the property. I quickly found my glasses in time to clearly see a spring bunny hop up onto the log. For one brief moment, in the early sunlight, peter and woody came face to face. I swiftly shelved the urge to write a children’s book, and resumed my morning activities. Happy Spring!

Death Away From Home

I stepped out the front door into the sharp cold morning, mind set on the day ahead. My eye caught a glimpse of a solitary bird nestled in the leaves below the living room window. Its head was down. damn. Before I got to the bottom of the frosty brick steps, I involuntarily breathed out a quiet eulogy. “Sorry little fella’" is what I whispered.
The feathers were soft, the body rigid. I wish it hadn’t died at my window, at my bird feeder. I wish it hadn’t died a cold morning death away from home. The small warbler with the yellow patch on his tail was a migrant, heading north for Spring.

I know it was an accident, but I won’t deny some guilt. I’ve always had mixed feelings about feeders near the house. For now they stay and I hope for safety. I’m not convinced the birds need us as much as we need them.

As I sat on my couch this morning, watching the seemingly happy flutter of activity at the feeders, I thought of the Myrtle Warbler. Sorry little fella’.