May 9: Scarlet Tanager

Allergies slammed me so hard last night that I slept about 12 hours and went in to work very late this morning. But thanks to the timing, I was in the right place at the right time. While at my desk preparing to leave, I happened to notice a black-and-white warbler spiraling a tree branch outside the window. I went out on the back porch with my binoculars to get a better look: a striking male in bright spring plumage, pausing every now and then to sing his "squeaky wheel" song. Nearby, a downy woodpecker climbed a birch, and a ruby-crowned kinglet chattered in the arbor vitae. The goldfinches kept up their usual cacophony in the background.

Then I caught a glimpse of red in the maple tree hanging over the river. Expecting to see the neighborhood cardinal, I gasped aloud when I looked through the binoculars and saw a scarlet tanager. While he isn't all-over red like the cardinal--his wings are black--his red is a pure, vivid scarlet, a vibrant color more suitable for the tropics than a foggy back yard in Maine. But there he was, poking around the freshly unfurled maple leaves as the river rushed beneath him. I hoped he'd sing, but he remained silent. Silent, but very visible, until at last I had to drag myself off to work.

Red as a stop light,
and who wouldn't pause to look
at such bright beauty?

May 7: First gosling

While in the middle of an intense phone conversation at the office today, I was delighted to look out the window and unexpectedly see the local pair of Canada geese escorting one tiny gosling upriver.

A single gosling--
already hatched out, floating
between its parents.

May 6: Bee

Ah, my favorite Sunday activity: sitting on my back porch in the afternoon sun, lulled by the constant rush of the river, while I read a book. Caught up in a good mystery, I still find myself distracted by a cacophony of goldfinches chattering in the neighbor's trees and the high-pitched song of the season's first hummingbird zipping around the neighbor's azalea. All this was after I heard my 94-year-old neighbor yelling for help and rushed over to give her a hand so she could get up her front step. She'd been enjoying a glass of wine on her patio alongside the river, and when she got up to go inside, found her joints too stiff to move her legs properly. We all have our ways of enjoying sun after days of rain and chill.

Made lazy by sun,
I let a bee rest awhile
on my open book.

May 5: Forget-me-nots

Where did this lovely, solo tulip come from?

The grass in our shady back yard is still too patchy to consider mowing, unlike the lush, pocket-sized front lawn, but I've been enjoying seeing what has popped up there this spring besides the slow-growing grass. Here and there little ferns unfurl. Pockets of vivid green moss deepen in color. A single white tulip, perhaps inadvertently planted by a squirrel, stands surrounded by a scattering of little white violets. Forget-me-nots bloom by the shed, reminding me of how many would grow in my grandmother's garden when I was a kid, those clusters of tiny pink, blue, and white flowers that spread further each year. Soon, the grass will be tall enough, but there will be too many flowers blooming back there for me to bear to mow them.

In the unmown lawn
forget-me-nots once again
inspire memories.

May 4: Sparrows in the mist

We decided to embark on a staff outing up Beech Hill today, despite what we call 100% humidity: light rain and heavy fog. The barrens were bright with blooming blueberries, sign of hope for this summer's harvest. I even saw some bees among them, undaunted by the wet. Something about the mist seemed to amplify birdsong. Or perhaps, because my vision was limited, my sense of hearing was enhanced, because the "bouncing ball" song of a field sparrow rang out across the fields loud and clear. From various corners, the towhee's "drink your tea" song resonated, as well--from perhaps as many as six or seven individual birds altogether, though the disorienting fog made it a challenge to pinpoint their locations. At the summit, at least one song sparrow and a handful of Savannah sparrows made their presence known, darting in the fog, chancing a song or two. Not much of a view, but the soundscape more than made up for it. 

Field sparrows return

to the field where they hatched, sing

their father's same song.

May 3: Vulture flying

To soar, vultures ride thermals, circling on warm air currents rising from the earth. Early in the day before the ground has had a chance to warm up, especially on a bleak, chilly day like today, these large raptors often have to flap hard to keep aloft. I watched one vulture slowly flying over the ridge of Mount Battie this morning, an ungainly activity for this most graceful of soaring birds.
 
On this cold morning
vulture labors, wings flapping,
to gain altitude.
 

May 1: May apple

One big apple tree outside our office has leafed out, and soon it will have uncurled its tight pink petals into blossoms. When the tree is in full bloom, it's a glorious thing, humming with bees, crawling with birds. Today I was happy just to look at its healthy, leafy-green fullness and imagine what it will soon become during this merry month of May.
 
Did a chickadee
or raindrops rustle those leaves,
stir the greenery?