In the Shadow of the New Year

Ah, we return on the other side of a wonderful Christmas. Thanks to our “blizzard” I was granted an extra day with my girls and granddaughter. Another day of the sheer fun of making snowmen, watching movies, and eating pies and cookies and all the other delights. Now they are gone, and the sheets are in the laundry. The dried Play-dough waits scraping, but it can harden a few more hours, for the dog and I had our first bog walk in 10 days and now there are blog comments swirling about in my brain. No use trying to clean until they are emptied out.

First, our “blizzard” - not the 30” of NJ or even the foot and a half Boston got, but this magical snow that fell for the better part of two days, a veritable “White Christmas” backdrop. Due to the Cape’s warmer temps it kept itself to a modest, and easily dealt with 6”. But with the wild winds, it often looked like a hurricane in a snow globe- beautiful. And as my feeders were full, the suet was stocked and the water kept piping hot in the new birdbath my daughter gave me, we had a conga line of birds with bath towels and goggles waiting for a day at the Spa. All the hours cooking, doing dishes, etc. are far more entertaining when your view is of an avian world celebrating the holidays in fine style. Crows eating piecrusts, squirrels with peanuts, apple peelings, meant for the opossum, seemingly, by the tracks I saw, enjoyed by a coyote.

But back to the bog. When I wrote a few weeks ago, perhaps we were still discussing the hundreds of ducks and geese that were sporting about in the newly flooded bog. Now the bog is a frozen “lake” and the usual players are absent from the stage. No ducks, no geese. Cover that ice and all the bog with a few inches of snow and a whole new cast of characters makes itself apparent. Mice, shrews, the wanderings of crows, who spend far more time strutting about on the ground than you might think, all become clear.
Tracking, I love it! The world becomes an open book. And oh, to have gotten there when it first snowed, is to really see who lives where.

With vacation week upon us, I was looking at a more tromped upon landscape, but I am happy to see the tracks of sleds, the stomping of boots through the abandoned bogs on the forest side and snowballs still piled behind forts. Bravo for children and teens that still play outside- may their tribe increase! All this wonderful play meant that I had to look a little harder to find where the “wild things” were. However the dog walkers stick to the wide trail around the bog, and the kids stick to their forts in the abandoned bog. Consequently, I was able to return to “my trails” and find, voila, raccoons taking the same less obvious route through the woods and over the stream that I take.
And around the bog, off the wide trail, were signs of crows meandering, then taking off, and places where they had skidded in for a landing on ice- sliding footprints. When the snow is a little deeper and soft you can see the prints of their wingtips as they take off, and their tail feathers as they come in for a landing. I love that.

Dogs leave a meandering trail, gooning around is their main pursuit and they know their next meal is all but guaranteed. Not so lucky the wild canines, the fox and the coyote. Their next meal is never a given, so to conserve energy they walk in a straight line when covering ground. For that matter, their back foot, steps directly on their front track, so it looks like a two footed animal has gone this way rather than a four. The track I was following crossed the busy path of the dog walkers, but then continued alone out across a sparkling field of untouched snow.
I am looking in my tracking book as we speak, ”Mammal Tracks and Signs” by Mark Elbroch and the size was right for a fox rather than coyote. Yeah! I used to see fox here all the time, but when rabies hit years ago, it seemed to decimate my local foxes. How I do hope this is a sign of their return. Merry Christmas to me! Reynard may be back!

Just a mention of landscape alterations. The two large, but long dead, Pitch pines, where that crazed Blue Jay kept taunting the Coopers hawk in a blog back in the fall, both came down. When the migrating hawks pass through next spring they will have to find a perch a little deeper in the woods. And another Pitch pine that has amused me for having sprouts of needles coming out from under its trunk also bit the dust in this storm. A wonderful burrow is possible now in the soft sand under its roots. Branches do litter the ground everywhere for it WAS three days of wild winds. But we shall wait for another day to regale you with all the different types of seeds etc. you can find scattered over the snow after it snows.

Hoping then, that your Christmas was as wonderful and that you don’t want to throw things at the computer for the way YOU spent the “lovely” blizzard was trapped in your car, or in an airport or on a train. Oops, if so, sorry. And as we are “In the shadow of a New Year” I wish you all blessings and goodness to follow and the joy of enjoying nature together, even if only electronically. Happy New Year!

Nurturing Nature

I think we can all agree that, for many of us, December is a time of straight out frenzy. I feel I am forever apologizing to the Prince of Peace, that I have brought anything but peace into the equation. Yet, the frenzy is partly what I enjoy. It wouldn’t be Christmas if I didn’t make cookie sheet after cookie sheet of peanut butter balls; if I didn’t write to anyone I ever met, even if it was just for a prolonged wait in the supermarket line. It’s just who I am.

However, I also know that to sustain the high-octane level of energy, the “Eloise” level of energy- “Oh trinkles oh trinkles sing fa la la lolly ting tingle bells there and here. It is the absolutelysiest busiest time of the year ping ping” (from Kay Thompson’s, “Eloise at Christmastime” a family favorite) one must find some way to regenerate. No surprise here that, for me, the regenerating happens outside. The morning walk. The list is long, the day is short, but without touching base in the woods and the bog, I would face it all with less cheer.

Today it was a gray dreary morning, but it wasn’t dampening my dog’s enthusiasm for getting out, nor mine either and we were rewarded with a newly flooded bog offering a newly renovated duck/goose hostel. There must have been at least 100 or more ducks and, interestingly, about 75% of them lifted off when we rounded the bend, with that wonderful whoosh of wings. And I wondered. Did the 25% of those who held their ground know Tuck and I? “Oh, it’s just those two. No that isn’t a gun, just binoculars. Not worth ruffling your feathers over.” Or were they just, in general, gutsier ducks?

But here is the magic of it, I left the house thinking there was no way I would get to the list of things I had lined up for myself, so the first leg of the walk was fairly guilt driven, “What am I nuts?” But then, the sea of mallards, the whoosh of wings and Wonder! Then all thoughts of lists vanished and it was replaced by a calmer, sheer delight in what was around me. And that is the recharge part. I still have a lot to do, but for at least a little while, I am realizing there is beauty here to calm the soul, and a lowering of blood pressure is taking place. It is what I always remind my walking ladies. “We are not here to raise our heart rate but to lower our blood pressure” and so it does.

My wish for you then, this December is that you find a moment, in all you must do, to take a moment to nurture nature. And let it nurture you right back. And as there is much to do, including enjoying my family who will return home for at least a little while, I don’t expect to find time to write again until after Christmas. I love that Christmas soliloquy from 1510 by Fra Giovanni and so I leave you with that.

“ I salute you! There is nothing I can give which you have not; but there is much, that while I cannot give you can take.
No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take Heaven.
No peace lies in the future, which is not hidden in this present instant. Take Peace.
The gloom of the world is but a shadow; behind it, yet within our reach is joy. Take joy.
And so at Christmas time, I greet you, with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.”

Take Joy then, and we shall hope to return in the shadow of a New Year.

Flights of Fancy

One of the treats of coming south, soon after migration, is I have the pleasure of imagining I am seeing the progress of the birds that a month ago where gathering in flocks on the marsh, or at my bog, now gathering here in TN. Of course, “my” birds, given the month that has elapsed, more than likely would have made it farther than TN by now, perhaps all the way to their winter digs. But there are surely flocks here, so why not imagine them as familiar friends.

The very first day I was here, we took Elena to the playground I loved last spring that is surrounded by woods and a stream. The trees, which looked to be some kind of crab apple, were teaming with the familiar “perp, perp, perp” of robins.
Not the dark breasted Canadian variety, but our summer robins. What ho! Good to see you!
Then just yesterday, travelling down the highway on yet another Christmas errand, the radio was playing the Nutcracker, the “Waltz of the Flowers” selection, when a flock of blackbirds started to fly, not only in tandem with the car, but in time to the music! It looked for all the world like they were auditioning for a remake of “Fantasia”. Forget the waltzing flowers, have you thought of rolling and spiraling blackbirds in the role? Ah, a bit of Christmas magic.


And when we cut down our tree in the Blue Ridge over Thanksgiving, not only was it on a beautiful rolling hillside, but also, the air was alive with bluebirds. Anyone I know out there? Very likely a local flock for they could easily summer and winter here. Still, it felt good to see them.

In my daughters yard the cardinals that we saw wooing in the spring seem present and accounted for, all with head feathers in line now, the “vulture” look that male had in the spring replaced by a full head of feathers. Rogaine to the rescue!
The Carolina Wren pair “teakettles” about the bushes and flocks of Goldfinch and Purple Finch have returned to the feeder.
My daughter is perhaps too busy or too disinterested to keep up the bird-feeding regime, but as soon as I arrive, the Italian Nona is setting out a spread for the birds again and it amazes me how quickly the word spreads. Clearly they have caught on to texting, for in a weeks time we are seeing the feeder drained every other day. I am doing my best to teach Elena to check it and then bug one parent or another to help her fill it.

Yesterday, our Advent chain told us to make peanut butter pine cones for the birds, and although yesterday they were left fairly untouched, my guess is that will not be the case for long. At home, the crows make off with them entirely, or the squirrels, so we shall see how long they last here. I am sure my daughter will be “thrilled” to add this task to her others when I leave. Smearing peanut butter, rolling in birdseed. It is the essence of childhood isn’t it?

Well, this migratory bird will be heading north again tomorrow. Not exactly going “as the crow flies”. Rather, four flights will be needed to get me from Knoxville to Providence by way of Ft Lauderdale! But if they are willing to give me four rides for less than one I will take it! I love flying, so why not. And my optimistic husband feels certain that with so many connections I am bound to miss one and thereby garner a free ticket somewhere! I think I would just rather make it home. Back to a dog that needs to go re-scent his trails, back to a bog that might have a new set of winter ducks, back to a house that is still decked, not with holly, but with Cornucopias and pumpkins. I think I have some work ahead of me.

I do hope your holidays are making you Merry, not crazy. For those of us who celebrate Christmas, I am always aware that I am ready for the Real Christmas at any moment, the Yeah God part, the thrill of what He did for me by coming, but the Commercial Christmas is quite a different matter, always two steps behind. But that is the one that, in the end, in the ultimate end, matters very little. So, with that in mind, may we just make Merry and find joy in the little things, the feeding of birds, and oh delight! the falling of snowflakes, even in TN! Wishing you all Joy in December and with enough spare time to refill YOUR feeders.

Entertaining Royalty-Golden Crowned Kinglets

The week before we left for this trip to MD and TN I had the distinct pleasure and honor of having royal guests in my trees- Golden Crowned Kinglets had arrived from the north. Actually they had been on the Cape since the fall, but it seems they don’t swing by my yard until later in November, so it is has always felt like another “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat” sort of marker for me.

And was there ever a cuter bird wrapped in royal clothing? Second smallest one out there after the Hummingbird and they come in two species, Golden Crowned and Ruby Crowned. Both adorable, Ruby’s being more rare than Goldens where I live. But don’t let that Disney-like cuteness fool you. This is one tough bird you’re looking at it. Able to withstand sub-zero temperatures and to eek out a living in the Maine winter woods as easily as here on the slightly balmier Cape.

If you want to know in GREAT detail how they do this, I recommend Bernd Heinrich’s book titled, “Winter World”. A professor of Biology at the University of Vermont who spends at least half his time in the Maine woods, he also marvels at how a bird of this minute size can maintain an internal temperature that would cause us to die of heat stroke, constant in sub-zero weather! Their internal temperature is even higher than most other birds.

So what’s their secret? Mostly, its simply becoming little puff balls in the cold. It’s a testament to how insulating their downy feathers are. When fully fluffed out, the kinglet can manage about 1” of air space that amazingly holds in the heat. It also doesn’t loose heat to its feet as we do, for like many birds it has mechanisms to keep its legs and feet just above the freezing mark. Tucking its head and feet up close to its body when it sleeps all combine to keep it warm on the inside when it is cold on the out.

Heinrich was so intrigued by the kinglet's ability to maintain an internal temperature that was, at times up to 78C. different from the air around it, that he came up with all kinds of experiments, using dearly departed kinglets as his subjects. He would pluck them and then measure their rate of cooling. A naked kinglet (something I don’t even want to picture) would cool at a rate 250% faster than a feathered one. Actually, you and I might have been able to figure that one out and we aren’t even trained biologists, but still, some of his calculations are impressive. I quote, “ Thus at an air temperature of –34C a kinglet that maintains a steady 78C difference between air and body temperature at its normal temperature of 44C would have a passive cooling rate of 78 x 0.037 C/min.=2.89 C/minute.” Got that? That my friends, is the difference between a real scientist and someone just playing around the edges of Naturalist as I am!

Well, I am not suggesting you go out to find and pluck your own kinglet for further testing, but I would encourage you to keep an eye and ear peeled for them. They are another of what I would call “hearing test” birds for their call is fairly high. It sounds a lot like our Black Capped Chickadee only the “tsii, tsii, tsii” sound it makes is slightly higher than the chickadee’s and comes in three’s. When I hear it repeatedly doing three calls I start checking and usually, there they are. They also flit about more than a chickadee. I like this description from a National Geographic site. “A tiny, thin billed, wing flicking insectivore”. That captures it pretty well.

Although they spend their summers in the Canadian arboreal forests, they do come to the States for the winter, with some staying year round in the Northern states like Maine. So there is a good chance, if you are out and about and listening you might just happen upon this small bit of royalty. If you do, marvel at its ability to survive but erase from you mind any picture of naked kinglets cooling!

Traditions

Ever since my children were young, we have always had a White Pine for our Christmas tree. It became the default tree because we lived in VA at the time and you could drive out to the Blue Ridge and cut any White Pine on the hill for $12, so the price was right. Growing up in New England, Balsams were king, but here in VA they were unaffordable exotics at the time. It took me a few years to give up my longing for that scent of Maine woods, and to get over the fact that as soon as you hung an ornament on the branches it would disappear behind those long soft needles. It was as if it was a secret between you and the tree that you had decorated it at all. However, I was gradually being won over by the softness of the needles and how willing it was to hang on to those needles well past Christmas. A trick the Balsams could use to emulate. So my allegiance switched over time and now it is a White Pine or nothing.

But of course, living on Cape Cod these last 13 years has tested that allegiance, for although White Pines are one of the predominant pines of the Cape, they are rarely, if ever, sold as Christmas trees. Consequently we have logged many a mile tracking down the U-cut Christmas Tree Farm that might have one or two on the back acreage.

A tree that isn’t the popular choice can grow to some pretty impressive proportions over the years, so we have brought home trees that tested the limits of the ceiling, and might have better been suited for the town square. More often, of late, we seek the gumball size trees that are as wide as they are tall, another sign of being passed over by the trimmer.
There are times we have paid fairly exorbitant prices for them, when my thrill of finding a White Pine at a local Cape Cod Tree Farm was so evident that the wise merchant just had to up the price. And times when I managed to get them for free. A man was clearing his land of White Pines and offered them to anyone who would get them, so, what a banner few years they were. These trees had hardly been trimmed but featured bonus items like bird’s nests or bittersweet wrapped around them like natural garland.

But now, what ho! My youngest daughter went to school at VA Tech and now works in MD, so once again we have resurrected the tradition of finding the White Pine on the Blue Ridge hillside at a reasonable price. It meant some transportation issues, but if they can cut and bring them from Canada, then our little Escort could play the part and pile one inside on top of suitcases and presents and make it home by Christmas.


This year finds me in TN spending some time after Thanksgiving with my daughter’s family and just yesterday we headed off to cut their White Pine tree. Marvelous, a scene from Appalachia right within the Knoxville limits. All white pines, $4 a foot, with the most classic addition of a larger than life, Power Ranger, presiding over the whole affair. So, the torch has been passed.

No doubt your tree, if you cut one, is a Fraser or Balsam but whatever kind it is, may it have worked its way into your family’s heart the way these White Pines have lodged in ours. December is here, let the playing out of traditions begin!