May 9: Numbers

5    maximum hours I estimate I slept last night
7    blueberry muffins my niece and I baked this morning for Mother's Day brunch at Nanny's / Mom's house
2    warbler species heard singing today
17  trout caught by my husband in the river behind our house this afternoon
1,642   ranking of Paul's book on Amazon as I type
1.5  hours I think I just napped after being unable to keep my eyes open any longer
6    channel on which the soothing golf match was televised
2    songbird species heard on t.v. while falling asleep to golf
1    warm, loudly purring cat napping with me

And thus I summarize the highlights (excepting the first item) of my day. Not very poetic, granted, but some days are like that.

Napping with my cat
while Paul fishes, with golf on--
some much-needed calm.

May 8: Black-throated Green Warbler

This morning my husband came in from fishing on the river behind our house to report that not only had he caught an auspicious seven trout, but he had also heard his first black-throated green warbler of the season. These portents put him in good spirits, because, as he puts it, today is the second biggest day of his life after our wedding day: this afternoon sees the launching of his first novel at a book party being held for him at the home of a best-selling novelist here in Camden.

But I'll leave the topic of his novel's publication for his blog. In addition to being excited for him today, I was happy to hear about the black-throated green warbler. And even happier when about an hour later I heard its languorous, buzzy song from within the shining green cave of leaves and lawn that has become our back yard: "Zee zee zoo zee."

I love to teach people the song of the black-throated green warbler, because it's easy to learn and during the spring and summer the birds are commonly heard around here. Also, for those who don't realize it's a common bird, its name sounds very exotic. The warbler is eye-catching, as well, though small enough that you have to do a bit of looking. You won't recognize it as a visitor to your backyard feeder. Its bright yellow face is framed at the neck by a black throat that contrasts strikingly with its white underparts.

Photo by John Harrison 

The BT green sings long and loudly throughout the day, well into the summer. The variant of its song heard via the link above is often transcribed as, "Trees, trees, murmuring trees." For me, that song conveys the essence of walking in the local woods on a summer day amid the murmuring trees, an image I embrace on this rainy spring morning.

On this rainy day
warbler sings, "Zee zee zoo zee"--
promise of summer.

May 7: Goldfinch Courtship

The torture of being stuck behind my desk while the sunshine poured in was periodically alleviated as birds visited my window feeder throughout the day. At one point I watched a pair of goldfinches passing seeds back and forth and snapping their bills at one another in a decidedly amorous way. This is unusual because unlike the other birds we see now, goldfinches shouldn't be courting. They are summer nesters, so as to coincide with the appearance of thistle seeds. This pair either can't wait, or has been led hormonally astray by this unseasonably warm, sunny weather. Whatever the case, their delicate little ritual was touching to observe.

Fooled by all this green
two goldfinches share a seed--
an early courtship.

May 6: Midnight

When Dick, a birder friend, called me at work yesterday morning, the first thing I said was, "What'd you see?" His reply, "You're going to think I'm crazy." Then, "Listen." And he played me a recording of the song of a chuck-will's-widow. If you're not a birder, that name alone probably makes you think you understand the bit about thinking he's crazy. But, like its cousin the whip-poor-will, chuck-will's-widow was named for what it sounds like it's saying. Loudly, over and over again, in the middle of the night. So the name isn't what's crazy. The crazy part is that chuck-will's-widow, a bird of the south, is normally nowhere near Maine. There are only a handful of reports of this bird being seen (or more likely, heard) in the state. And yet there it was, according to Dick, singing outside his window at 5 a.m.

After he hung up, I immediately emailed an ornithologist I know who's compiling a complete record of Maine's bird sightings. He replied that there were only six or seven records of chuck-will's-widow in Maine and that, on the slim chance the bird might have stuck around, I should go out that night to try to hear it for myself. So when I found myself still awake at 11:30 last night, thanks to a good mystery novel, I decided to have a listen. 

As I slowly drove around Dick's neighborhood in my pajamas at midnight, it occurred to me that I might need an excuse in case someone got suspicious and called the cops. And explaining that I was looking for Chuck Will's widow... well, not so sure how that might go over. But I saw no cops. Or other cars. It was a beautiful night for driving around listening for a bird that wasn't supposed to be there, the warm wind blowing through my open car windows. I drove past an open field and paused for a while, thinking that might be good habitat for the bird. A loud chorus of frogs hummed and trilled in the background. The cloudless sky twinkled with stars and at least one planet (Mars). I felt grateful that my wild bird chase had led me to such a perfect moment, a moment when I would normally have been sound asleep. 

Empty of birdsong
yet full of stars, singing frogs--
back road at midnight.

May 5: Mutants

I have this weird memory from when I was four years old. While playing in the driveway one day, I came across a really big ant sitting on a log. I remember well the rush of fear and panic at seeing such a thing--it must have been three inches long--although it didn't pay any attention to me. I remember running into the house, not wanting to play in the driveway again, and going out later with some trepidation, hoping it had gone away. But of course, there are no giant ants, even in the strange state of Missouri where we were living at the time. So odds are good this was a dream. Still, that giant ant has stalked my memory for almost 40 years.

Something about oversized things freaks us out. Horror movies take good advantage of that fact, giving us giant spiders, giant snakes, giant carnivorous rabbits ("Night of the Lepus," anyone?), giant killer tomatoes... They don't fit into the natural order of things. (Funny how mutating radiation always makes things in movies bigger or more powerful.)

Which is why tonight I was so horrified by a mutant dandelion plant that I couldn't even bring myself to touch it. Granted, I don't like dandelions anyway. Besides playing a role in my spring hay fever, they mar my lawn. And when you pick one, the stem oozes a milky fluid. Things that ooze milky fluids are creepy too. So I'm already predisposed against dandelions. And then I saw this one. It looked like four or five flower stems had melded together to form one giant stem at least an inch across, a strange succulent-looking stem that was not normal. The unopened flower heads themselves were connected like conjoined siblings. When I first saw the plant, I did a double take and blinked a few times. And noticed there were actually two giant mutated stems in the clump. If there'd been more light, I'd have taken a photo.

The plant borders the sidewalk, so I can't help but wonder if someone disturbed the plant in such a way as to cause it to mutate like that. Or if it just bloomed into a dandelion monster all on its own. It was truly freakish. I left it alone.

Evening calm disturbed
by mutant dandelion.
Not a dream this time.

May 4: A Few Good Warblers

This past week as waves of songbirds have been pouring into the state, I've been stuck at my desk working and periodically reading reports on the Maine birding maillist of what everyone else has been seeing. A lot of warblers have been showing up, many of them on the early side, so it's been a little frustrating to have to work so hard at this exciting time of year. These colorful little gems of the bird world are among my favorite birds to seek out during spring and fall migrations. In the spring, there's the thrill of their return after many months absence, as well as the joy of seeing them in fresh, bright plumage (they favor yellows and greens) and hearing their varied songs. In the fall, they pass through silently and with muted plumage, presenting an interesting challenge to birders--which is why there's a whole section in the Peterson Field Guide to the Birds called "Confusing Fall Warblers."

Pine warblers are among the first to arrive, and I've been hearing them in the tall pines around my parents' house since early April. In late April I added yellow-rumped warbler. And this week a black-and-white warbler has been singing its "squeaky wheel" song outside my office. But people have been reporting everything from Louisiana waterthrush to blue-winged warbler to Blackburnian warbler this past week, and I was hungry to see more. Warblers are like candy for birders, and each spring outing is measured by how many warbler species were seen. In Maine it's possible to break 20 species on a peak mid-May day with a good fallout of these pretty little birds.

Today I finally had some small satisfaction. On a work outing to snap some photographs in Hope, I heard warblers singing as soon as I got out of my car: black-and-white warbler, then an ovenbird's "teacher, teacher, TEACHER!" from deep within the trees, and off in the distance, a black-throated green warbler's "zee zee zoo zee." As I walked along the trail, I flushed a yellowthroat, catching a quick glimpse of its black mask. Before I headed back to the car, I had even added bluebird and hermit thrush. I wasn't out for long, but that hour was a rewarding one.

Familiar singing
and bright new feathers--warblers
back from the tropics.

May 3: Conclave

My mom and I sat out on her deck after work today, enjoying the gusty warm wind driving the clouds over the river. Clouds and big patches of blue marbled the sky. Wind rushed and sussed through leaves budding in many shades of bright green along the water. The air was as muggy as a summer afternoon before a rainstorm. Somewhere in the woods across the road, a snapping turtle the size of a dinner plate was laying her eggs.

Above us in the trees the blackbirds and grackles were holding a conclave. My mom says they gather every morning and every evening, just hanging out making a racket together. The blackbirds were particularly vocal, their buzzy trilling songs wafting down from on high. Every now and then the flock would fly across the lawn into a pine tree, the grackles standing out in silhouette because of their larger size and vertical, rudder-like tail. Then they'd fly back. Mostly they just perched there together, all facing in the same direction, a small flock of black birds making all manner of companionable squeaks, chucks, and squawks. Males awaiting females. Not much different than a bunch of guys hanging out in a bar. As the sun sank lower, a peeper joined in the chorus. A vulture swooped by on a gust of wind. Doves cooed softly.

There are few things more relaxing than just sitting by the water, watching birds with my mom.

As I drove away, I hadn't gotten far down the road when I saw a black shape in front of my car: a snapping turtle. I stopped, put on the hazard lights, then found a stick to try to push her across, to hurry her along. That had the opposite effect, as she turned and jumped, snapping at the stick/me. I went to Mom for help, but she said turtles cross the road here all the time and that this one would be fine. Sure enough, my mother knew best. As we watched, the turtle hustled across the road and continued into the woods on the water side--what she'd been trying to do all along.

At my mother's house
blackbirds converse with grackles,
turtles safely pass.

May 2: Freak Tulip

I was finally able to spend a bit of time puttering in the yard today and came across this one odd tulip growing just outside one of my flower beds. All my other tulips are red, so this one is an oddball of unknown origin. Lucky for the tulip, I've only had a chance to mow the yard once this spring, and thus it had enough time to pop up and blossom in a place I would normally have mowed.  

Where did you come from,
odd tulip gracing my lawn?
Glad I didn't mow.

May 1: Derby Day

As is usual for the day of the Maine Land Conservation Conference--a day for which I am either in a car or in classrooms attending workshops all day--it was one of the most beautiful days of spring thus far. Well, duty called, so that was my day.

In addition to the first Saturday in May always being Conference day, it's also the traditional date of the Kentucky Derby. I've been an avid watcher of the Triple Crown races since I was ten and could recite all the Derby winners. I arrived home from Topsham tonight just in time to watch the post parade and then the race. Not having had time to do the research to make an informed decision about which horse might win, I chose by jockey. Calvin Borel has won two Kentucky Derbys in the past three years. He rides a great race. I figured if one of the best trainers in racing put him on his horse, even a horse that doesn't have a shining race record, the horse, Super Saver, must have a shot. Also, the trainer, Todd Pletcher, hasn't had a Derby winner yet despite winning many other Triple Crown races. He was due. Thus I found myself rooting for Super Saver.

I wish I'd had a bet on, because darned if Borel didn't ride that horse to a smooth victory. Watching horse races always makes me cry. Part of it is the thrill I get from watching these beautiful animals doing what they're bred to do and run as fast as they can. (I ended up becoming a competitive runner as in my youth because I was always running around pretending I was a race horse, so I relate to them on a personal level.) Part of it is watching the emotional responses of those involved with the horses--the sheer joy on the owner's face as his horse crosses the finish line ahead by 2-1/2 lengths. (Well, I thought he was the owner, but turns out he was the guy who won a sweepstakes that enabled him to place a $100,000 bet on Super Saver!) And a small part of it is, I think, a touch of nostalgia, remembering when I used to watch the Derby with my grandmother, who also loved horses.

A much younger self
races around Nana's house.
Run for the Roses!