The Bog- A Month Later

Finding normalcy, after any trip, takes awhile for me. That sense of waking up wondering “Where am I?” and, “What is it I am supposed to be doing?” seems to dog my first few days back from any trip, any where. But a centering thing is always returning to the early walk around the bog with the dog. Ah yes, here, here I am and what has happened in my absence?

For one thing, all the little fledglings that I fretted about; were they being gobbled by crows, soaked by rain, or just popping out of the nest too soon, seem to have managed just fine without my daily check ups. Not that I actually found that many of the nests. Only the Kingbird and Phoebe nests were known to me, the more secretive crows clearly were raising their various broods a few trees back from the forest edge and never seen.

But now, on that first day back, what a treat, for there were two youngish looking Kingbirds, diving on a youngish looking Red Tail Hawk, chips off the old Tyrannous block for sure. Mom and Dad would be proud. The hawk parents maybe less so. Young Redtails, and I am so glad to see my pair raised two, have mottled brown tails rather than the reddish color they will have by next year, so they are easy to spot. Plus they were, and there were actually two Redtails being chased, so quick to give up their roosting spot that they seemed new at this “chased by something one tenth your size” concept.

Every sprinkler head around the bog seemed to have a new Phoebe on it, so I take it their “repopulate the world with flycatchers” efforts also went well. And coming up to the slough, which has been empty except for the occasional Yellowlegs or Spotted Sandpiper had, and this seemed practically like a mirage, 6 Great Blue Herons in it! That folks, was a first for me. I have never seen so many together, I have never been aware of seeing a family together, but this is what this seemed to be, perhaps two pairs with their mostly grown, yet always, gawky looking young. Incredibly my dog didn’t even notice them, but they eventually noticed me and lifted off with pterodactyl like calls. The wildest thing is that a friend reported seeing 6 herons on her walk down by the salt-water marsh, and if I were a wagering type, I would bet they were the same ones. Very cool.

The other most obvious change, besides the profusion of young birds, is the encouraging collection of bullfrogs, bright green and ringing the pond. Some tadpoles are still in a sort of “frogpole” condition, more body than tail, and my dog is beside himself with delight at snuffling them out and then being dumbstruck each time by their disappearance under the water. Often I don’t see them, only to look down and then notice two huge bullfrogs right at my feet. Surprises me every time. It’s a healthy world that still has a peck of amphibians, and all with the right amount of legs and eyes. A needed antidote to the nightly news.

So, I guess I know which zip code I am in again. And although there is much work to be done, the heat is making that less appealing. Tonight I meet with my walking ladies and we shall head down to watch the terns complete their ever so long ministrations to their begging young. Next time we write, lets compare notes on the “begging sounds” coming from your trees and bushes. Hard to give up a free meal shoved down your throat. Perhaps the ones leading seminars on “Tough love” should be Cardinal, or Crow, or pick any bird species, parents! Until then, may you know which zip code you are in, and be out enjoying yourself when time and temperature allows.