"All that is Seen and Unseen" - A Chronicle of a Week of Glory Moments

What a beautiful week it has been here on the Cape. Mostly perfect temperatures, blue, blue skies and a chance to walk each morning before work. I have mentioned before, the prayer that is often on my lips is
“I believe in God, maker of heaven and earth. Of all that is seen and unseen.” and what delight I have when I find something that is, in my mind, in the unseen category. Something I might have missed if I had come a few minutes later, something that I never expected to see.

For each walk is like that, full of promise of the unexpected. For all of us, whenever we step out onto the trail, anything is possible. If I were better at remembering quotes, it seems there would be a Bilbo Baggins quote that would do well here. Or even one from our own Thornton Burgess, speaking through the voice of “Mother Nature”, “Around every bend adventure waits”, or something to that effect. Well I am here to say it does, and with my particular mindset, I thank God when it happens.

In no particular order then, this week, my delights included:

-Seeing a female Box Turtle crossing a path, right behind my yard, no doubt on her way to lay her eggs, or on her way back. At least, that would be a reasonable assumption at this time of year. She had that determined air about her. And what made it so special, is that I have often wondered about a female Box Turtle I saw close to this spot, a good 5 years ago. Was she still alive? Well, this was another female (they have bright orange eyes so you can know at a glance), and she looked about 5 years larger than when I saw her last! A good healthy lady, perhaps a different one, but how thankful I was to see, that this turtle with it’s shrinking habitat, is alive and well and living, at least part of the time, no more than 100 or so yards from my backyard. TYG! (Thank you God!)

-Hearing the begging cry of baby Kingbirds when I had been so sure Blue Jays had gotten to the eggs! I am crazy enough that this made me choke up with relief. Of course, those that know me well know that is practically a daily event with me! Maybe it’s my Italian heritage, but it doesn’t take much to bring a lump to my throat. But really, just a few days ago, I had watched two Jays diving at the nest and at the Kingbirds, who were doing there best to dive back. Jays are egg lovers like their cousins the crow, and are not above robbing a nest. Plus you often see Jays in a troop of 5 or 6. My worry was that the Jays would call in their recruits and the Kingbirds, Tyrannus though they are, would be outnumbered. I couldn’t stay and watch the outcome because I had to get to work, so the next few days, when I saw the Kingbirds in nearby trees but not on the nest, I thought the worst had happened. Thursday, when I happened upon Mom feeding a begging child I was thrilled. TYG!

-Walking along the trail that was peppered with Solitary Bee (Andrenid bees) volcanoes back in April, was the first batch of new bees buzzing all around. They fly really low to the ground, and then alight on a particular patch of leaves where they, zip, disappear into a hole you never even noticed was there. What was wild was, I had just come down this trail on the way to the bog and nothing, then on the way home, the ground was alive with these low fliers! Cool and TYG!

-Speaking of bees, the very next day, returning from the bog again, there in the middle of the trail, flying at about 4’, was something that impersonates a bee, but is really a fly, a Hover Fly (Syrphidae). You have seen them; they are yellow and black and look like bees. That’s their intention, “Stay away from me, I sting!” But they don’t. They are famous for hovering in one spot, which a real bee can’t do. And if you have really good eyes, when they are resting, notice that they have one pair of wings, whereas bees have two.

So, here was this one, right in the middle of the trail. I came up behind it, stopped in my tracks and felt just like I was flying in formation with it! It didn’t move for the longest time, and neither did I. I don’t think its compound eye saw me in my stillness. Things generally have to be moving around for insects to see them. Which, back to real bees, is why swatting at them is the exact wrong thing to do. It is also why they say bees don’t fly on perfectly still days, because they don’t see the flowers. That could be a wives tale but it makes sense, considering how their eyes work. At any rate, this chance to be in this little Syrphids flight squad for a moment was another one of those, “Unseen” treats.

So many other little things; steam rising on the pond when our temps dropped from a record high on Weds to unseasonably cool on Thurs. Another visit by the Solitary Sandpiper, the first Willet on the slough, a tern that was hunting over the pond, swooping and diving Barn Swallows rather than the more usual Tree Swallows that summer here, a Kingfisher clattering over the pond. Also exciting, 4 Wood Ducks on the pond, could these be the babies? Not in adult plumage yet, but pretty large. 4 Wood Ducks are a treat no matter what the reason. TYG!

So, what a week! When you take your time, when you find insects worthy of “wowness”, you stand a much better chance of getting to experience that “Unseen” part of life. I hope you have had some “close encounters” of your own this week. All it takes is getting out there, on any path really, and just remind yourself to LOOK on occasion. Stop, bring your mind to the present and “be there” rather than off somewhere else in your thoughts. I guarantee you will see something. Don’t worry about identifying it just appreciate what you are seeing. Or hearing. It’s amazing how much animal-generated sound is going on around us. It just takes the same kind of conscious focus to hear it.

Wishing you then, a chance to look for the “seen and the unseen” this week. And if you’re are like me, you will give thanks and praise to the One who made it all. Happy Sunday!

Back to the Black Cherry

A very small window of free time has appeared and I better grab it to tell you about our soon-to-be-done-blooming, Black Cherry trees. Even without the blossoms though, this tree isn’t that hard to identify. It has those dot-dash lines along its bark, as the birches do, which they use for gas exchange and is beleaguered by Black Knot Fungus, which also makes it easy to spot. Black Knot Fungus causes those misshapen swellings you may have seen along the trunk or branches of this tree. Some people think they are the world’s biggest insect galls but, they are actually caused by a fungus.

But lets hope there is still time to spot it by its prolific white flowers and not a fungus! If the flowers are gone in your part of the world, you can also be looking for the cluster of drooping cherries that will be the result of pollinated flowers. They are favored by so many animals, and you could make jam out of them if you were so inclined. The fruit is really tart, too tart for our taste and if you chose to eat them, you would need to be careful not to swallow the pit, because, here is the Agatha Christie part of this tree, it is loaded with cyanide! If you scratch the bark on a twig it will smell like cheap cigars and it is the cyanide compound that makes it smell that way. Charming eh?

The twigs are not to be chewed on-cyanide. The pits not to be swallowed-cyanide and even the leaves, when they are dying and wilted- loads of cyanide. For that matter, a hazard for poor Bessie in the field is that a broken branch, with all those withered leaves look tempting to a cow, but can actually kill it if it eats them. Eeks. Who knew? Such a lovely tree, but better to look at than dine on. And yet, the flesh of the cherry itself, though tart, is fine to eat and is used to make jams and jellies, in ice cream and a liqueur. It was also used to flavor that cherry flavored cough syrup you had to choke down as a child. Which reminds me, a closely related cherry is Choke Cherry, which gets its name from the fact that eating the bitter cherries might make you choke.

Back to some positives about the tree. The Black Cherry is the tallest of cherries growing from 50-80 ft and if Black Knot doesn’t get it, or storms break off its branches, it can live to be 250 years old. It is another one of the “first in” kind of trees, growing in abandoned fields, or areas that have had fire damage. Like the locust tree, it improves the soil it is in, so is a boon to those plants growing around it. It is the wood of this tree that is the lovely cherry wood of cabinets and violins etc. So what’s a little poison in light of all the good things it contributes?

If you happen to enjoy finding scats of wild animals, as I do (because it lets me know wild animals are about, always a good thing), then summer is the time to see how many different animals love these cherries, poison pits and all. I have seen scat from raccoons, opossum, fox and coyote loaded with pits in July and August. Every fruit eating bird loves them and there is nothing like travelling through a digestive tract to make a seed ready to grow. Germination is aided by such a trip in Cherries, Hollies, Pokeweeds etc.

If you are looking for something to entertain your guests with this Memorial Day weekend, go scratch the bark of a nearby cherry, smell the stale cigar, and share with them all you now know about this tree and let them wonder how you got so smart. “Ah yes, dabbling in forestry in my free time.” I’ll never tell. Enjoy!

Springtime and the ID'ing is Easy

Sounds like lyrics from “Porgy and Bess” doesn’t it? Think, “Summertime and the Living is Easy”. “Springtime (sung with a sultry, jazzy voice) and tree Id’ing is easy. Blossoms blooming, tells you who is who”. Or maybe not, this isn’t a musical Pat. But really, the easiest time to tell who is who in the tree world is in the spring when they are blossoming. At least the ones that blossom with flair. And right now, on the Cape, that would be the Black Locust and the Black Cherry. They are in bloom all around the bog, and all along the 5 mile ride to work, turning the canopy to white and perfuming the air with the sweet smell of locust blossoms.




Ironically, both trees have black in their name, but their blossoms are white. Both trees feature what botanists refer to as, “pendulous racemes”, meaning elongated bunches of flowers that hang like so many floral grapes from the tree. And both trees are interesting in their own rite. So interesting, I may have to break this up into two blogs.

Let’s start with the Black Locust, for this native tree of the Southeast has really gotten around and many of you may have them in your neighborhoods, even, in the remote contingency that you are a reader, say, from Paris, or London. So many plants have headed our way from the Old World that it is a rare occasion when something heads the other way. But the early colonists were so taken with the durability of locust wood, that they shipped them back to England in 1636 and they spread from there. Many a European city features them in parks and along boulevards for this tree is tolerant of pollution. Think of something that can blossom in the London fog of yore.

The wood is exceedingly close-grained and resistant to rot. For that matter, it is considered the heaviest and hardest wood in all of North America. They made wonderful fence posts that could last 100 years, and in our local marshes you can still see the locust “staddles” that were placed on the salt marshes to prop up the drying salt hay back in the 1700’s. It’s so cool, because the salt marsh, which takes 100 years to raise one foot higher, is slowly swallowing these wooden pegs, but they are as tough looking, though shorter, as when they were first placed there. Think back to your history books. Remember all that fence splitting young Abe Lincoln was doing back in the day? Well, be doubly impressed for that was Black Locust he was splitting and that is no easy task.

And what a helpful tree it is. Being in the Pea family, well, a subgroup of the Pea family, (Faboidae), it is able to “fix” nitrogen in the soil, that is, take it from the atmosphere and transfer it to the soil for the other plants to use. Consequently it is one of those pioneer trees that will quickly grow in abandoned lots or fields and is here on the Cape because it doesn’t need rich soil to grow, it makes it’s own rich soil. However, it can’t tolerate shade, so if some upstart, fast growing tree shades it out, it is a goner.

From the flower comes a long bean pod which, although toxic to us, is enjoyed by a whole host of birds and mammals; bobwhites, turkeys, mourning doves, white tailed deer, cottontails and squirrels. All the regulars are regular customers of its seeds. It’s also the host plant for the Clouded Sulfur butterfly that is so common around here.

Finally, one cool thing you can check out for yourself, is that its pinnate leaves that have between 9-19 oval leaflets, fold up at night or when it is raining, as other members of the Pea family do. So, out you go, with a flashlight some night to see if this is true. Isn’t it amazing how much there is to know about a tree, and I didn’t tell you everything.

But clearly, I can’t launch off now about the Black Cherry, but the next free chance I have, I will. The lovely blossoms of the Black Locust only last about 10 days, and around here they have been out for the last 5 or so, so there was an urgency to blab away about this before they were all gone. Of course if you live anywhere south of Cape Cod they have already come and gone. And that is the trick, isn’t it? To try to find the time to write about all these blooming trees, wildflowers etc before they come and go. We shall never want for material shall we? And why? Because “ The world is so full of a number of things, I am sure we should all be as happy as kings!” RLS

God Blog-Starflowers and Forgiveness

For the past three weeks or so, the final leg of my path to the cranberry bog has been carpeted with the combination of Canada Mayflower, or False Lily of the Valley, and Starflowers. (Trientalis borealis) They are both common here in spring, the infamous ephemeral flowers of spring who “make hay while the sun shines” on their little patch of firmament. Soon the canopy of leaves will cut the light in half so, getting up and getting at it, in the spring is their motto.

Of the two, my favorite is the Starflower. An impossibly delicate plant, with a starry white flower on top of a ridiculously slender stalk. They are unusual in the plant world because rather than the more typical arrangement of 3, 4 or 5 petals, or multiples of that, they have seven. Seven petals, seven stamens, and often a whorl of seven leaves beneath the flower that adds to the star shape.

As I mentioned last Sunday, I am prone to think metaphorically when I am out walking, and this number 7 makes my mind jump to the notion of completeness the number 7 represented in the Old Testament. It also brings to mind the exchange between Peter and Jesus, when Peter asks Jesus how often he is to forgive his brother, in this case, “brother”, meaning his fellow believers. And you know, Peter thinks he is being magnanimous when he offers up the number 7. Should I forgive him 7 times? Again, that would be a stretch. But what does Jesus come back with? ” I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven times.” Matthew 18:22 Man, that’s crazy, that’s like ALWAYS! Yup, that’s like always.

So as my feet brush past these seven petals, seven stamens, seven leaves, Starflowers, I am reminded I had better not be a grudge holder. For there is also that rather riveting verse in Matthew where after teaching his disciples the Lord’s prayer, Jesus reminds them, “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Matthew 6: 14-15. So let us be magnanimous with our mercy and our grace, for He is that way with us.

And, not to start a whole other lecture here, but remember, forgiveness doesn’t mean condoning the bad thing that happened, it just means not letting the other persons actions have power over you. For the truth seems to be that resentment and grudge holding does more physical harm to the one holding the grudge than the one you are upset at. What do they say? It is like acid, eroding the container it is in. So take a walk among the Starflowers, enjoy your day, and let the grace and mercy flow. Happy Sunday.

A Coming Out Party- American Painted Ladies

Last weekend, as I was busily putting in the tomatoes and peppers, I noticed an amazing amount of American Painted Lady butterflies were fluttering by. They seemed to be everywhere. In my neck of the woods, Cape Cod, this must have been their coming out party. Perhaps in your neck of the woods too, for this butterfly is one of the most widespread butterflies in all the world.


In some parts of the world they are referred to as Cosmopolitan butterflies for indeed they are. In our country there are three separate species but because I am on the East Coast, I can assume I am seeing Vannessa virginiensis. And may I say right here, that this butterfly has one of the simplest to say Latin names! In the genus Vannesa and the subgenus Cynthia.
Such ladylike names for these American Painted Ladies! Oh, and some people call the East Coast one simply, American Lady. You are free to pick your favorite.

At a quick glance, you might mistake it for a Monarch, because it too has orange and black in its wings, but it is almost half the size. A Monarch’s wingspan is between 3-4” where these “ladies” are usually 2”- and I love this for accuracy, to 2 7/8ths”. No rounding up apparently in the measurement of butterfly wings! I just can’t remember ever seeing so many, so I was interested to find out what their host plant is, to see if maybe I had planted something new last year, that the hungry larvae enjoyed. It turns out they, at least the East Coast species, is content with thistles and nettles which are easy enough to come by and the adults are happy to sip from anyone in the Composite family. Also an abundant group, including all the daisies, marigolds, clover etc. Not picky eaters and that bodes well for any animal.

I always think of the Mourning Cloak as being the only butterfly that over winters here but, according to what I read, the Ladies are the most tolerant of cold, making it through our winter as either adults or in the chrysalis stage. I’ll include pictures of larvae so you can know to hold back that squishing hand of yours if you see one. That is the trick isn’t it? People love to pick off and kill caterpillars, yet some of them will become such beautiful butterflies. And many folks love to plant butterfly gardens, but who is out there planting the larvae garden? You need both to get to the finished product. And with Google at your fingertips, why not research what the larvae looks like of those butterflies you want fluttering by your yard?

One other possible reason I saw so many, might be that almost every school group that came to the Nature center this week and saw American Ladies, claimed that they had raised that kind in class and let them go. Could it be then that the influx of so many lovely Ladies is thanks to some Earth day project? Perhaps. Whatever the reason, fluttering butterflies make any day seem dreamy and fanciful, don’t you think? But, fanciful or not, there are some realistic things that need to get done around here, so I shall be fluttering along. Again, so many topics we could cover, but so little time!

A Minute on Moss

Raise your hand if you remember our conversation on Moss way back in March. March Moss Madness was it? We discussed the complicated process that mosses goes through to make more moss. And, if you recall, I said it could take 4 to 6 months for the spore capsule (correctly called a “calyptra”, which sits atop a stem called a “seta”) to develop. Well, here we are, two months later, and in my neck of the woods, they are just chugging along and have reached a point where you can easily tell male from female moss. A highly prized skill to dazzle your friends with don’t you think?

We are talking about the Hair Cap moss, one of the many Polytrichum species. A fairly typical moss on the Cape, perhaps where you are too, that is in abundance around the bog where I walk. And how do you know male from female? Well, the female is the one with the long slender stem coming from it, with the “haircap” on top, which will have the spores inside. They are still ripening in there, and probably won’t do that cool, top-popping-up to disperse the spores in dry weather thing, for another month or so. The male, rather than having a slender thread, has a golden crown on top- a kingly sort of male. Where I see them, there are whole mats of males, and next too it, large patches of females, with their caps rising like miniature masts.

Remember, that not all moss reproduce at the same time, so you may look at your patch and think I am seeing things, no tall stems on yours, or golden crowns either. But hunt around and I bet you will find some. These are also the same mosses that curl their leaves up tightly when it is dry and look like burnt little sticks. It is how many of ours looked just two days ago. Now, however, we have had a lovely rain and they are vibrant and green again with leaves unfurled.

There you have it then, just a small something to look for to add richness to your day. And now, back to work for all of us, in the home, garden or in my case, the jam kitchen tonight.

Sunday God Blog-A World of Metaphors

I have always used the phrase, “The Glory of God All Around You” when talking about God in nature, but it also has often struck me, how many metaphors for the spiritual life, surround us.

I can never walk along the narrow trail that leads to the bog, which has catbriars to the right and left of the trail, without thinking of the verse,
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying “This is the way, walk in it” Isaiah 30:21. Good advice or I would be tangled in thorns, which, of course, leads the mind to the many parables about thorns that represent the cares of the world, etc. And then when I arrive at the train tracks, where I try to start my praying, if crows aren’t in an uproar, or kingbirds distracting, I see the “narrow road” ahead of me that I am encouraged to follow.

Just the other morning, as I was headed out on my walk, I noticed our ornamental cherry tree that has been for the last few years providing a feast for the unwanted winter moths. This moth has been a recent bane to the Cape and is quickly defoliating trees that have just recently survived a gypsy moth onslaught. The clever little bugger, moth in this case, comes out of his pupa in Nov or Dec when most of the birds who would consider him a menu item, have winged off for southern climes. So, they go about the business of laying their eggs unfettered, and these eggs hatch early in the spring, sending the larvae out in droves to feast on the leaves while still in the bud. When spring comes, either the leaf never appears, or if it does, they are there waiting to finish it off.


All this to lead to the fact that my tree, with most of its leaves looking like lace now, had a few intact, healthy, green ones. And for some reason, it struck me that our present society is getting a little moth eaten. But, there are still good people, green leaf people, not entirely eaten up by the values of the day, and they are what will keep that tree alive. They are its only hope really. To you, still-green-intact-leaves out there, keep it up. Keep loving people, being honest, being kind, loving God, asking to be used by God to brighten someone’s day, keep living your life with integrity. If we can manage to stay green long enough, and keep the moths out of our own lives, the tree might live.

Like the psalmist who said we were all without excuse (a fellow believer that the Glory of God was all around us), I add to it, that the lessons of God are all around us if we but look for them. So, may you have a chance to get out on what is a gloriously beautiful day here on the Cape, and take a lesson, even from the thorn bushes, or whatever else speaks to you along the way- Happy Sunday!

The "Too-Muchness" of May

For the past three days, I have wanted to blog about all that I saw as I rambled about in the early morning, for there was so much to see, so much to share. Too much really. Then there has been too much to do at work, too much to do in the garden, too much to do, in fact, to find any time to blog. And as I think back, May has always been that way. The “too-muchness of May”, I am sure affects your life too.

So, where to begin? Right after I wrote about the propensity for pugnacity in Kingbirds, I got a treat of seeing Tyrannus in action. There appear to be at least three separate pairs of Kingbirds nesting at opposite ends of the bog, and the first pair I came upon was noisily out gathering grass for their nest. A real treat, an answer to my prayer to see the “seen and the unseen”. They both were twittering away through all of it, the female gathering the grass, the male seeming to provide cover. Along came a Blue Jay, just passing by, and here comes the full out attack. Next a Robin dared land in the tree they had their nest in, both of them went screeching after him. Then a crow, headed for his job of sentinel for the day, clearly with nothing but getting to work on his mind, and the male flew up over him diving, again and again just like the books say he will. Very cool.

That same walk featured seeing the male Wood Duck on the pond again, as he often seems to be early in the morning. I see him fly in from the same direction each time, no doubt coming from the marshy wetland where the Mrs. and the wee ducklings are snug in a tree. Everyone likes a little alone time now and again and the Wood Duck seems no different. The male Mallard was on the slough with three other males this morning. I knew everyone couldn't have a mate. Of course, it could have been completely different Mallards, one of the problems of everyone looking alike! But I like to think my loner found some pals.

Because it has been unseasonably cold for the last three days, the bog owner had his sprinklers on, and that had driven away the lone Goose. Today, 2 pairs of geese where there, and wouldn’t I like to think the lone goose found another lonely heart out there. He was forced back into the world of dating by the fact that his haunt had turned into a Sparklett’s show. And what a show it is, when you come over the hill that the tracks are on and see the world, a fountain of glistening spray. The sun, still low in the sky, catches the water, making the jets look as though they are spraying diamonds rather than water. A glory moment.

And as though that wasn’t enough, in flies my first Spotted Sandpiper of the season. I usually see one or two at the pond but they never seem to stay long. So another treat to be there when one does show up. If you’re ever looking for a poster child for Feminism in the bird world, the Spotted Sandpiper would be a good candidate. It is the female who fights for a choice waterfront territory, the female who chooses a mate, the female who lays the eggs but then leaves the incubating to the male. Meanwhile, she goes off in search of another, who also gets suckered into sitting on this second clutch of eggs, while, you guessed it, she is off looking for greener pastures and a spottier third fellow. She can do this four or five times before she finally settles down and helps raise a few chicks herself. Amazing.

And it is easy to spot a Spotted Sandpiper, not only by their obviously spotted breast but they constantly bob and teeter as they walk. Makes you want to break into a Beach Boy “Bob-Bob-Bob bob a ran” type song if you watch them long enough. Also, this bobbing is seen in other sandpipers too, and in the Woodcock, who shazam, is in the Sandpiper family and shares the same bouncy step. I saw a lot of You Tube videos claiming this was the mating dance of the Woodcock. No, this is just the Sandpiper swagger.

See, too much! And oh the plants! I wish I could babble on about all the things coming up, practically overnight, along the bog, but it would be, too much! And the crows, the not-always-so-silent crows, now that they have a nest to defend, would also be too much to cover this time. And of course, all of you have too much to do, to even have time to read this. There you have it- the “too-muchness of May”, it effects everything!

Back to the Birds of the Bog-Part two

When we last chatted, I was trying to bring you up to speed on who had come and who had gone, bird wise, at the Bog while I was in TN. And time got away from us, we all had to go stir the soup or something, so now, a few days later, with bread in the bread machine on auto-pilot, let's continue.

We had covered a lot of the birds found in the trees bordering the Bog, but how about the Pond? All that duck action that had been going on in late winter and early spring is now past. I returned to find the surface of the pond devoid of waterfowl. However, a few days ago, some Green Herons (some people refer to them as Green-Backed Herons) flew in from their winter vacation in Florida. They may have just been passing through for I haven’t seen them this week, but, generally, a few, will call this small pond home and woe to the frogs and fish that linger in the shallows. Patient, as all herons are, it will hold its pose, crouched in a posture that would send us running for the Aleve. Then, stab goes the bill, and gulp goes the frog- another successful meal for our Heron.

Ringing the pond, in the High Bush Blueberry and Buttonbush shrubs are several Gray Catbirds, loud as can be, singing their “Top-10 greatest hits”, one right after another. I have no idea how the female Catbird can keep straight who it is that is singing. Catbirds are mimics in the style of Mockingbirds, and also throw in all kinds of jabbery and screechy sort of sounds that I don’t recognize as any local bird. Who knows that they are listening to on their Ipods but, somehow, Ms Catbird finds a tune she can hum along to and the two will be gathering grape vine bark and grass for their love nest any day now.


I also watched some Chickadees that still seemed to be skirmishing with their neighbors over where the exact boundaries have been drawn between their two properties. Listen for excited “fee-bee” and “chickadee” sounds and trills coming, all at once, from a group of 4 chickadees and you will know that, soon, a lawyer will be called in to look at the lease. I also saw a Chickadee pair enter a hole that I thought was their nest. One, probably the male, had a grub in his beak and passed it to the other, the female. Rather than pop into the hole to feed the young I imagined might be in there, she downed it herself. Aha! No, not a selfish Mom, but most likely, a courting pair, just out house hunting and he was offering a little, light refreshment to keep her going. How very thoughtful.


In TN, the Chickadees were already running ragged bringing food to the nest. Again, I need to mentally rewind the tape and realize that here, on the Cape, many are still house hunting. But not for much longer I think. And perhaps many have laid eggs already. Have you noticed, where once you were besieged with Chickadees at your feeder, you have hardly any now? That would seem to suggest that they ARE on nests. And while they are gathering grubs for the young’uns, why not make that their meal too? Heaven knows, with our infestation of winter moth caterpillars, there is plenty to go around. No need for sunflower just yet. But they will be back later in the summer, most likely bringing their brood with them to show them where reliable food can be found in times of hardship. You can happily keep providing the reliable food, if you are Italian,at heart, as I am, and love to feed things.

And, lastly, at the Bog, is a bit of an ongoing mystery. I can only observe and guess what I am seeing. And I may be way off, so don’t take any of this as Gospel. When I left, a pair of Mallards, the only ones of the whole gang of Mallards that had spent a lot of disco nights on the pond, seemed ready to settle down. They had chosen a smaller containment pond and he seemed to be defending an area that she seemed to disappear too. I thought, to build her nest. Now, three weeks later, he is alone, and back at the little slough in the middle of the Bog. So, what has happened? In three weeks, she might have laid and hatched her eggs, it takes about three weeks, but why would he linger alone, I wonder?

And with him is a lone Canada goose. Now, I know they mate for life, (not so the Mallard) so, where was his lady? I kept scanning the bog for a nest, which I think I would have seen, geese aren’t that stealthy, but, nothing. Yet, there he stayed day after day. So, of course, I had to worry, did his mate die? Run off with another? And if so, why not go join up with some other single geese. EVERYONE can’t have found Mr. or Mrs. Right. Then, because I am pathetically dramatic, I thought, maybe something untoward happened to his mate here and he is holding vigil. For they are known to do that. Or maybe there never was a Mrs. to begin with. See how this stuff can eventually make you crazy? So I walk and I wonder, and I will keep you posted if any other clues develop. I would expect him to leave eventually. Move on with his life. And the Mallard too, other ladies to wow with his iridescent green head.

The bread machine has beeped and so you are spared any more birdy details. Ah, but there are still the emerging bog plants to discuss some day. You know I will be back. Until then, watch for your own mysteries to unfold outside your own door.

The Birds of the Bog-A Spring Inventory

After missing much of April at the Bog, it was good to return last week to see what had happened in my absence. Who had come, who had gone, and again, if only they signed some sort of attendance sheet, accuracy in this department would be much easier. But they don’t, so I will just have to rely on what I happened to see on those early morning walks, and assume, even more things are going on unseen.

Phoebe had returned before I left. They are early arrivals in our spring and, although I always compare their voice to a guttural New “Joisey”, sort of affair (something someone from New Jersey took offense at; OK, an inner city Philly voice then)they are a welcome sight and sound after winter. But now, a few of their cousins in the Flycatcher family: Kingbirds and the Great Crested Flycatcher, have joined them.


Same guttural, family voice, but you want to talk inner-city tough? That would be the Kingbird, Latin name, Tyrannus, tyrannus, for good reason. When they are defending their territory in nesting time you don’t want to mess with them. Oddly though, they will tolerate many other similar sized birds near the nest. However, let an Owl, Hawk or Crow pass through, or over their territory (as much as 100’ over!) with nothing but peace and good will on their mind, and the Kingbird launches an assault that would make a WWI Dog fighting pilot proud. They fly above the larger bird, diving down on them, sometimes even landing on them, and will continue this even when they are way beyond the bounds of their territory. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” is not in their psyche. Picking on things 10X their size is. So they are back, and the sentinel crows that are at the edge of the bog had better watch their backs, literally.

The mated Kingbirds aren’t all roses and poetry either. The male arrives first, drives off all other male Kingbirds from his territory, and then when the female Kingbird arrives, in his enthusiastic belligerence, he drives her off too. Eventually, something kicks in, that lets him know the species won’t last long if this continues and he gets a little warmer in his welcome. In her turn, the female, once she starts laying eggs, won’t let him anywhere near the nest either. She accepts no help, doesn’t want any little, tasty, caterpillars offered in romance, can handle this herself, thank you. Until finally, all the little tyrannus’s are hatched and begging for food 24/7. Then the reason for a mate becomes more apparent to her and she allows him to be part of the family.


Great Crested Flycatchers are also back and giving their loud “Wheeeep” call from obvious perches. They are so large and so loud and so apparent, that they can make a beginning birdwatcher feel like a pro. We need more birds like that. Warblers could learn a thing or two from the Flycatchers. I don’t even try with them. Except the Pine Warbler, who has been back for awhile. It has a musical trill that sounds a lot like a chipping sparrow, only slightly lovelier and it is, this is the best part, coming from the pines. They are so good at sticking to pines just the way their name implies that if you are in pines and you hear that, you can be pretty sure of who the singer is.

Oh my, we still have green herons, catbirds, skirmishing chickadees and a Lonely Heart Club, Mallard and Canada Goose to discuss, but you perhaps need to go stir the soup, or burp the baby, or assist at brain surgery. Tell you what, you go do what you need to do, and I will prattle on and print Part II of this tomorrow. Agreed? Agreed. Until tomorrow then.

Life is a Banquet A Sunday God Blog

To finish that phrase, Auntie Mame style, (as in the movie and play, not a relative of mine!) “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!” Today, in this Sunday Blog, lets promise ourselves that we will do our best to avoid finding ourselves in the “starving sucker” category!

Life IS a banquet, with so many “specialties” on the menu. I, of course, seem to delight in choosing from the “Nature” column. Perhaps you choose “Love of Art” from the menu, or “Music”, or “People Watching”. The point is, to choose something.

Whenever I walk, wherever I walk, there seems to be something to glory in, a banquet of delights to choose from. Last Sunday, with the long ride back from DC before me, I got up early and walked in the wooded area behind my daughter’s apartment. The same place where the Toad Symphony took place. It was early enough that the birds were going full throttle. But behind the exuberant bird songs, many of which I did recognize, was another, how to describe it, chirring sound, that I had never heard before.

Some warbler or perhaps a really loud tree frog, that’s what it was reminiscent of. But no, when I finally tracked it down, it was a young looking squirrel, with his mouth full of leaves and branches, chirring as he tried to negotiate a limb, yet kept smacking into other branches with his “double wide” load. Was the chirring frustration? I don’t know but it was pretty amusing to watch.

For all the squirrel nests I have seen, and you have seen them too, big balls of dried leaves high up in the trees, I had never seen one being made. When he finally reached the nest in progress, he stuffed them into the growing ball of branches, then galloped off to get more. I watched him stop along the way to wipe his cheeks on both sides of the branch as though he was scratching. And I have read about that before too, but had never seen it. Supposedly they scent mark their “route” through the trees and tadaa, I got to see that in action too. Two new things in one morning! A double order from the banquet! And again, I rise up and call my daughter Jen, “blessed”, for giving me these great binoculars last Christmas that help me see these “firsts”!

Good thing I “dined” early that day too, for I would go on to get stuck in so much traffic, that the normally 8 hour trip from DC to the Cape, would take 12. Not many of us would choose from the “congested traffic” column on the menu! So this week, I encourage you to pull up your chair to this incredible spread God has put before us and join the Feast. It would be so sad to leave this “meal” with an empty stomach when there is so much to be had. Delight God with your enjoyment, and the spirit of Auntie Mame, wherever she is!

The Birds and the Bees

We have talked a good deal about the birds I encountered while in TN, but something else I kept coming across from MD, to TN and now, here on the Cape, were bees- Carpenter bees to be exact. I really have a provincial mind, so when I saw a fairly big and active group of large bees buzzing about the buildings where my husband was in a meeting, I thought, how odd to see so many Bumblebees together, so early in the season.

The first Bumblebee out, bumbling around in spring, is always the Queen; everyone else had his or her RIP prior to the winter. She is the only survivor of the colony, hibernating through the winter, already fertilized and ready to go when spring arrives. Then she finds a suitable hole in the ground and starts gathering pollen to form into a ball and lay her eggs on. Then later in the summer, she will have company, and workers and her hive will have begun.

So, to see twenty or so large, bees buzzing around was a mystery. Until my friend who lives in MD, pointed out that these were Carpenter bees. They closely resemble Bumblebees except their abdomen is shiny and hairless rather than soft and fuzzy. But what were they doing, I wondered? Chasing each other, flying so high into the sky that they were just specks against the blue. Was this amore, or was it aggression? It’s hard to tell the two apart sometimes. Yeah again for Google. It was aggression. Males are pretty territorial, and will chase each other around, yet never actually come to blows, for the male has no stinger.

For that matter, they like to toy with us I think, for they are known to fly straight at you which, no doubt, freaks out many a non-bee lover. Some say they are just curious little buggers. Love to check out anything new, and often that is you. No ill will intended. I wonder how many found themselves smushed between the Sports section by someone who did question their motives. Curiosity might kill more than just the cat.

The females do have stingers, but they are so busy tending to the work of chewing out brooding tunnels that they have neither time for stinging, nor for dashing about to satisfy their curiosity. They are the proverbial “busy bees”. Carpenter bees are called that, because they dig their brood tunnels in wood, your deck railing doing very nicely, thank you. Now they aren’t like termites, you don’t end up with shredded lace for wood, just an excavated 6” tunnel pretty close to the surface of the wood. I love that it said you could hear her chewing the wood from several feet away. Something to listen for in my twilight years. Each inch takes about one week to chew. My jaws are sore just thinking about it.

Once she has completed the chamber she will make a nice tasty ball of pollen and nectar and lay an egg on it. She seals off that chamber with chewed wood and bee spit, I suppose, and then makes another. Not the 1,000 of eggs laid a day for her, let the Honeybee be the winner of all egg laying awards, she is content to have a family of 7-8 bees. And here’s another neat thing. The last one laid in the chamber is the first one out. After all, it is closest to the door. “And the last shall be first” sort of arrangement. It will take them about 3 months to complete their life cycle from larvae to adult, so if they have chosen your deck railing, you won’t meet the family until late summer.

They are important pollinators, so one should be happy if you have some nearby. What’s a little tunnel in your deck railing compared to the successful pollination of your flowers and veggies? I had my Nature walk with my ladies on Weds and we found some Carpenter bees busily tunneling out a bench at the Game Farm where we walk, and they had left quite an impressive pile of sawdust. That’s another good way to find them, impressive piles of sawdust. And one last amusing, but I wonder if it is true, fact about them. One sight claimed they were pretty clumsy fliers, smacking into fence posts and the like, not always coming in for the smoothest of landings. We will all take note, any dazed bees you may find who seem to have suffered a crash landing, check out that shiny abdomen and see if it is a Carpenter bee and if what they say about their, less then stellar, flying ability is true. The ones I watched sure were zippy and didn’t seem to be smacking into things. Guess you can’t believe everything you read on the Internet! Would that include this Blog? Heavens no, I am trying to feed you truth.


Which reminds me, a correction. I said in one article about the naked headed cardinal, that birds don’t tend to preen each other’s heads. What was I thinking, your pet parakeets do, and some ducks, and a few other lovey dovey types. But many don’t, so a mite on the head of a bird still has a pretty good chance of munching away untouched. Truth, see I try my best to search for Truth! And truly this has gone on too long today. Adieu.

"Cuckoo for Copepods"

Borrowing a phrase from “Bill Nye, the Science Guy”, my first day back at work could be summed up nicely by going “Cuckoo for Copepods”! We teach a program on Pond life for 5th graders, and one of the coolest lessons is going to the classroom with a micro-projector and letting them see some microscopic crustaceans “Up close and Personal”. Up close indeed, for if you are really lucky, as we were, you will get to see Daphnia reproduce right before your eyes! But more on that later.

About the “cuckoo” part, even though there are reported to be 1,000’s of species of copepods, found the world over, from the ice caps of the Poles to the teeming jungle waterways, just try and find one in your own pond when you have a class to prepare for the next day! Andrea and I spent some back-breaking hours pouring over trays of water we collected from the pond, trying to find these illusive, teeny critters from all the other life swirling around. But finally we were rewarded with enough samples of “Cyclops” copepod to show in class. They get their name from the one eye in the middle of their forehead. And when you are looking for them, you look for a speck that is swimming in a jerky motion, for they use their legs and antennae to move, but they move in opposite directions. Should the occasion arise that you are looking for copepods! The females have sacks of eggs like saddlebags and are easier to spot because of it.

But the darlings of this class we do, are the Daphnia, or water fleas as some call them. Much easier to find; they spiral in circles as they swim, and the coolest thing about them, is they are transparent, so when you magnify them you get to see EVERYTHING! Beating heart that goes at 200X a minute, the gut that has the food that is exiting the body with great regularity to the amusement of the 5th graders, a clearly seen compound eye, and large antennae that they use to spin in a circle like a wild whirligig. But the most exciting thing is that these little reproductive wonders are constantly with child. And I mean constantly.

If you have collected your specimens in a pond, then they are almost guaranteed to be all female. They are able to reproduce by parthenogenesis, meaning loosely; no males need apply. They can have young at the ripe old age of 3 days, and the eggs they produce will take 3-4 days to develop and then they start right at it again, having a new brood every 3-4 days until they die at about 6-8 weeks! Each clutch could have 8-24 young, who look just like Mom and will begin having their young in 3 days, every 3 days until they die! I don’t even want to do the math on that- mind boggling! But such is the life style of anyone who is at the bottom of the food chain, as they are. “Yum-yum”, say all the little damselfly nymphs and hydras and the like.

But again, the coolest of cool things is when this actually happens in a drop of water, under the microscope, for the whole class to see. Which it did for my lucky little devils on Tuesday when I did the class. We could see the young were so ready, filling the Daphnia’s brood chamber without a mm to spare, when blam, they all start exiting out the escape hatch and filling the water, swimming around wildly, looking just like Mom. When no Dad is involved that is what happens after all! Like cloning really. I always lead the class in singing “Happy Birthday dear Daphnia’s” and it is a memorable moment!

Now, if you gather your Daphnia from a vernal pool, you just might find a male, because here is another, “Isn’t nature amazing?” thing. If the Daphnia sense a stressful situation coming on; i.e. the water is disappearing in a vernal pool or there is too much competition for food, they can produce male Daphnia. They will then mate with the female and this union will produce an egg that can sink to the bottom and wait it out. It can survive drought and hatch when times are better. Again, how can anybody say they are bored when there are such things to be learned!

But enough on that. You all have busy lives and I have gone into perhaps more detail then you might have wished. But chock it up to the enthusiasm of being back at work. When Elena is bigger I will delight to show her such wonders, but for now, Cape Cod 5th graders will be the ones to dazzle. And you know, they were.

The Road Home

Anyone fond of purple, in all its various shades, should plan a trip in April, along Rte. 81, the backbone of VA. When I drive down to TN, on the 13th of April, the Interstate was lined with the deep lavender of a dominant understory tree, the Redbud. Always a mystery that they call it “Redbud” when it seems so very purple but any googling of the name only said it had a red flower. Maybe it’s a deficiency in my color vision that I have always seen it as purple. Either way it was beautiful, especially when viewed against the backdrop of fields of yellow mustard.

Turn the car around three weeks later, head north and the road is lined with a much lighter lavender, for all the Paulownia trees were in bloom. Looking into the background of this tree reveals a most amazing tree indeed! It can grow 18 feet in it’s first year, its leaves, at least on a zippily growing young tree, can be 2-3 feet (!) across and by the third year it has reached the height of 30 feet and is providing shade for the whole family! Its blossoms, which caught my attention for their beauty and scent, last for 6-8 weeks and smell somewhat akin to jasmine and come in white, blue or lavender. The trees I saw along the highway weren’t ornamentals, but forest trees and probably was Paulowania Elongata, which attains a height of 80’ and has the lavender blossoms.




Although these trees have been grown in Japan for centuries, the fossil record shows that, shazam, it is a native North American tree, doing very well here, thank you, until the ice age came along. So, those people who buy them to plant don’t have to feel guilty about adding yet another invasive to the list. In Japan it is customary to plant one of these trees when a daughter is born, and then harvest it at her wedding to make her wedding chest from it.

The list of positive attributes goes on and on, at least on the website where they are trying to sell you one and by the end of reading it you want to jump up and buy a dozen. However, although they fare well almost everywhere and can tolerate temperatures from –15 to 130 degrees, they DON”T like salt air. So we won’t see them springing up along the highways and byways of Cape Cod. But from TN to CT, they were everywhere.

Driving north, once again, the season of spring was rewound back into its container. In TN all the trees were fully leafed out, black locust trees with their hanging white racemes of flowers were also everywhere. But here on the Cape, the locusts are just thinking about getting their leaves out. So I will get to see this emerging leaf show all over again! How cool is that! I feel like it’s a sort of natural history time machine I’ve been travelling in. Almost as disorienting as when you have to readjust to different time zones. But I shall get my, whose-coming-up-when, bearings back again and reset my blog tales to Spring, Cape Cod style.

But at the moment, now that I am back in the work saddle again, there are copepods to be caught for a micro-projector class with 5th graders tomorrow. Daphnia too, and they are always worthy of a shared tale. So, until then, happy, whatever point in spring, you find yourself in, day!

Khrushchev Would Be Proud

I was a child during the Cold War. I remember the scene of Khrushchev pounding his shoe on the table and later saying he would “Bury us” and I also remember how many speeches I had in my head of how I would tell him a thing or two if I ever had the chance. But my little young fury really wasn’t over a system of government, but was centered on the fact that he wouldn’t allow his people to know about God. Well God and I were just going to set him straight on that. I think I was about 10 at the time.

And now, after going to Story hours for the last few weeks, all I can think is, “Khrushchev would be proud”. Proud of the way America did finally get on the bandwagon and scrub God out of things as Russia had. References to him being deftly omitted, plot lines being changed, and no one seems to be the wiser. There we all were, a room full of toddler moms and of course a few Nona’s, repeating along the lines of the well known “Teddy Bear Teddy Bear Turn Around”, a rhyme Elena and I have been saying since she was about 6 months old. She knows it well, and the hand gestures that go with it, so imagine our surprise when the part “Teddy Bear Teddy Bear go upstairs, Teddy Bear Teddy Bear say your prayers” was missing. While our hands were folded in prayer, the librarian just had them marching and marching up stairs. And this in TN where there seems to be a church about every block, and Farsi didn’t seem to be the predominant language in the group.

Next came the “Little Engine that Could” another classic from the early 1900’s. With a little research, I see it first appeared in a Sunday school publication, and later was picked up by the Book House collection I mentioned the other day. Which, as it turns out, was first published in England (ergo the wonderful illustrations) in the 1920’s and sold in the US later by door-to-door salesman. The Aunts who bought it for me must have been a soft touch. Well, that is the version I am most familiar with, and Elena too, and there the little engine is trying its hardest to get the toys over the mountain in time for Christmas. Now apparently he is just re-stocking Wal-Mart. I just found it so sad and that something very rich in our heritage is being lost. Not just the richness of the language, as I mentioned the other day, but the reflection of who we were, who some of us still are.

For that matter, while I am ranting against political correctness taken to absurd levels, in the “My Book House” collection, I have the original “Little Black Sambo”, another book taken off the shelves, for what reason? Was it racial insensitivity? If so, it actually reflects our globally-unaware selves. That story is set in India. Tigers are found in India, not Africa. Little Black Sambo is dressed in Indian garb, and when they race around the tree they turn into Ghi, the Indian word for butter. Heaven knows that’s an insulting book. Boy cleverly evades being eaten by 4 tigers, which chase each other out of vain ambition, turning themselves into butter, and in the end, there is a feast of pancakes to be had. By all means, remove it from the shelves immediately.

Enough ranting Pat. Back to nature with the next one, but this is a Sunday blog and you may remember those are devoted to God topics. So, it seems I haven’t changed that much since I was 10, still willing to give someone a piece of my mind!

Well, obviously we have hit a raw nerve here, but again, it just saddens me for what is lost. And none of those young moms will know what has been altered. Again, Khrushchev would be proud.