At the instant I looked out the window late yesterday morning a dark shape hurtled into view directly in front of me. Flying at a steep slant from the sky, the black oblong bundle crashed into the surface of the pond. Splashing water and a pair of wings exploded from the spot and an Osprey appeared. Struggling for a second, it rose into the air, a small fish clutched in its steely grip. Off it flew to the west; three, maybe four strong wing beats a few feet above the water and it was gone.
Such is good fortune – in its rare occurrences -- for the birdwatcher. It came a second time an hour or so later as I rode my bicycle through Hecksher State Park woods. I came into an open marsh area just as a falcon cleared the top of a wall of phragmites, our common coastal reed. The Merlin powered upward, fast and agile, first dodging left, then right directly above me, moving – as it does – very fast. Gone even quicker than the Osprey.
A couple of brilliant moments in one of the few sunny days we have had this spring. A nice example of how our brain works; concentrating perception in instants that are new and startling, as opposed to thinking time passes rapidly in our daily routines. It is a result, neuroscientists say, of our mind wandering in other realms when the reality around us is common, a not so attractive trait as one notes the days ahead are shorter than those gone by.
There was another of these just a week ago when we hiked the Audubon Corkscrew Swamp in south Florida. I had stepped from the car announcing that this was to be the day for a Pileated Woodpecker – the biggest American woodpecker and one I had only seen twice in my life. Sure enough, halfway through our walk, we heard the unmistakable hammering of the big red-head, the inspiration for the famous “Woody the Woodpecker.” On we trekked along a boardwalk, hearing the sound afar in different directions. A volunteer Audubon guide said they were everywhere just now.
We were rewarded about a mile and a half along the trail when we heard a pounding close by. Searching the trees, moving from one vantage to another, there it suddenly was. Earnestly drilling out a cavity on the underside of a dead tree branch about 40 feet above us, it showed no concern for the observers below, giving us plenty of time to soak up the bird’s magnificence. At 18 inches with a 29-inch wingspan and sporting a fiery red head, it is quite impressive.
Back on Long Island, the local cast of avian characters is filling out for summer. A couple of Swallows were in the air yesterday – the first of the season that I have spotted. Steady patrols by Long-tailed Grackles indicate a pair has found a nesting site nearby, along with a fat Robin, a pair of Cardinals and a single set of Mallards, the male of which drives off all other ducks nowadays, making the pond less raucous than it was a couple of months ago. His partner is strolling the lawns each day, clearing searching out the right spot to build her nest. A few years back it was directly next to our back door. Once we saw her, we stopped using that entrance for a month or so as she brought her brood to life.
Meanwhile, the handsome egrets that graced our evening views have abandoned us. Since our return from Florida four days ago there has been only one brief visitor. There must be a quieter spot somewhere down the line. We do not abandon hope, however, keeping watch each sundown.
On a small pond a couple of miles east, where hundreds of Scaup gathered through the deep winter, a handful still remained yesterday. The cold and wet weather of this spring is likely to have confused them as they should be well north by now.
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