Evening Egrets

     The sight of a snow white egret sweeping in a wide arc over the pond to its evening roost is our nightly reminder to slow down, ease out of the day’s cares and shift to another gear. We are fortunate to have once more found our pond to be a refuge for these lovely creatures who somehow know just when to head for their peaceful place to spend the night. The first arrival always wins an exclamation from the humans onshore. Within minutes the now-regular group of five has assembled, posted about the trees together on the east side of the water. They are gone before sunrise.

   
  About an hour after sunrise today, the third full day of summer, the trees were -- as indicated above -- absent their white ornaments when suddenly our resident grackles rushed together in a small cloud to drive off an a large osprey which had tried to perch above the pond. 
Persistent, the big predator flew low and across, first to one spot then another, trying to settle on a branch.  But with half a dozen blackbirds buzzing it like fighter jets, the realization came that this would not be a stopping place today. The fish catcher quickly sailed out of view toward the river.

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     A couple of weeks ago we exclaimed as a mother Mallard appeared with a flock of babies. Sadly, they are no more. Within two days the mama duck and two of the chicks were missing and the rest were noisily racing around the lake in a little group searching for her. What happened is an absolute mystery, although the snapping turtle is a suspect. The next day, our errant merganser female – who should be far north with her brethren now – found herself chased by three little mallards clearly hoping for a new mother. She jumped up and ran across the water away from them several times before they gave up and began circling again in search of their mother. Within two more days, they too were gone; a grim reminder of nature’s way.

     The summer pattern is in place otherwise. Robins shuttle about on the lawn listening for creatures to grab from below the grass. Gulls, cormorants and Canada Geese soar above, accompanied at evening by swallows which swoop low across the water. Goldfinches are twittering around the neighborhood, joining the regular chorus of mourning doves, grackles, occasional blue jays, woodpeckers, catbirds, various sparrows and – among other singers -- the evening peepers, little tree frogs who punctuate each night now that the truly warm weather is at hand. 

     So far, no fireflies in our neighborhood but we are watching to see if a few won’t yet materialize with their telegraph lights blipping here and there. I have learned there are three common species with lighting up patterns which allow you to discern each one. More on that when and if they show up.

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Yellow Dust and Puffballs

A jet-black laptop is just the place to record allergy season. Left for a few minutes on the deck, it developed a thin film of yellow dust, which seems to be accreting as I type. Something tells me this news would instantly clog the sinuses of the engineers who designed the beast.

While some humans, including your LI bird blogger, suffer inordinately from the annual floral rush to fertilize the countryside, the birds seem quite unaffected. A brightly capped Red-bellied Woodpecker attracted my attention moments ago with a gentle tip-tapping about 15 feet from me, perched on the trunk of a stately elm. It hammered away and cocked its head here and there to peer into the holes it drilled. Not once did it sneeze.

Earlier, a young heron (Black-crowned) was gingerly stepping up the 40-degree incline of a branch protruding from the pond, working its way around a fat Red Slider turtle which emerged for a morning sunbath on an adjacent log. They couldn't have picked a better day to be out and about - a cool dry northern front has ushered out to sea days of hot humid weather, bringing bright skies to light a verdant landscape that our wet spring has created. The heron made a few stabs at fish, but seems to need a bit more practice judging from his empty beak in three tries.

As May came to an end, we had a visit from a young merganser female which showed up around the 27th -- almost a month after the last of its ilk, which visit over the winter, had departed. It paddled around for three days looking quite lonely, before disappearing, hopefully northward.

A great photographer wrote some years ago that edges are the where one can most quickly see and record drama; seacoasts, skylines, meadows against forests, day and night,etc. So it is in the seasons as we pass from spring to summer. The pattern of settled critters and an end to most migrant travel is upon us. But while the obvious drama may be less available, there will still be moments of wonder. Thus the birder keeps watch. As another great photographer once pointed out, the secret of making a great picture is "F8 and be there."

Karma! Just now mama Mallard has appeared with her new brood. Moving quickly across the pond from a spot I had suspected she was nesting, she is followed by a tightly packed squadron of puffballs, light brown in the morning light, with flecks of gold and black adorning them. Tethered by invisible bonds, the group stays close as they peck at tasty morsels in the yellow film which now is evident across much of the pond. Not a runny nose in the lot.

And, with good luck, they will avoid the attention of a large Snapping Turtle which I recently spotted  lurking in the creek at dawn. The great Mandala rolls on.
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