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Brick Pond, Old Man Willow, and Godzilla
My daughter and I took a walk at the Brick Pond today. It was unsettled, alternating between clouds and sun, warmth and chill.
Next to the parking area at the entrance to the trail, an old willow tree has stood for years. We’ve seen oriole nests in it, warblers, and even, once, a red-tailed hawk eating a mouse.
Today we discovered it had fallen.
The tree has lived through a lot of history there, acting almost as a host ushering us into many walks, and framing every first glimpse of the pond. I’ll miss it. I hope another will be planted.
We ventured in, noting the lush vegetation and napping box turtles on logs.
I wasn’t really expecting a song sparrow to be hopping down in among the grasses, logs and pond scum, but there it was, busy about some important business.
I’m not sure what this bloom is, and my wildflower guide gives no clue.
We startled two pairs of wood ducks as we came to the berm between the main pond and a little marsh. This male let me get some pics.
Bird’s-eye speedwell Things got interesting when we saw a large snapping turtle gliding stealthily our way.
He wanted to swim through the drainage pipe under the berm, but he was watching us cautiously. Not till we walked a little way up the path and stood still behind some bushes did he make his move.
Resting his chin? Or trying to be inconspicuous behind the log? My daughter refers to this turtle as Godzilla, but as intimidating as it is, she moved to the walkway over the pipe to watch him swim through. We saw him come out the other side, fully submerged and moving a fair amount of water, as well as producing plenty of bubbles.
Eastern kingbird Once past him, we crossed a little wooded area and walked out on a second berm that spans the pond.
We saw a vole, an Eastern kingbird, yellow warblers, a Baltimore oriole, a kingfisher, a green heron, and some red-winged blackbirds. At that point, we turned back. Our friend the snapper was where we’d left it, lounging in the sunnier, marshier water.
Still observant.
Some water snakes had appeared, racing around the edges of the water.
It was a lovely and interesting way to wile away more time than we intended. But it’s a renewing experience to be out there.
The more you look, the more you see.
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A Mystery
I’ll admit, I’m puzzled. The flickers that created a nest before my eyes about 3 weeks ago seem agitated today, and there are more of them — I’ve counted 4 adults.
Zooming in on the nest cavity, I saw this.
The face looking out suggests a young bird saying, “Feed me!” But the bird in the hole looks like an adult, and I I didn’t see any feeding take place.
No one emerging from the hole looks like a fledgling, either. The one in flight in this picture is an adult male, based on his “mustache” — the black streaks under his eyes.
Between the Handbook of Nature Study and All About Birds, I learned that the incubation period for Northern flickers is 11-13 days, and the nestlings stay in the nest for another 3-4 weeks. There’s no way there are baby birds in there.
Fellow flickers wouldn’t be predators either. So, strange. Maybe the additional 2 flickers were passing through and investigating, and it panicked the local residents. Or maybe they’re last year’s hatchlings, back to the territory they know and figuring out where to settle. No sure answers. Hopefully the drama will pass and this year’s brood will succeed.
This post was written on May 8.
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Grosbeak Season
There are 4 male grosbeaks and one female in this photo. Hopefully more females will arrive!
Our first customer arrived on May 5.
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Merganser Family
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Serenity Wood
April 27 was clear and warm, so I ventured into the Serenity Wood to check out the sights and sounds of spring. The initial trail up through a meadow was muddy and full of bushes, from which a blue-winged warbler mocked me with its raspberry call as it successfully hid from me. In this same meadow, I got a good picture of him — or perhaps his father or grandfather — back in 2013, so I was glad to grant him his privacy and move on to the woods.
Along with the opening leaves, a few tiny flowers were pushing up on the forest floor.
Wood Anemone 
Bluet 
I paused to remember photos taken on this bench with my daughters, as well as brown creepers and yellow-rumped warblers we’ve seen in the trees lining this path in previous springs.
Down the hill and to the left, I turned in to the Tree Tunnel, so named by my youngest on our first walk here years ago. It’s dimmer, and to me slightly ominous, when fully leafed out; I like it best in spring, with the fresh, bright green of opening leaves and the light coming in.
From there, I turned and descended to a little bridge over this creek, where two chipmunks chased one another at dizzying speed over this tree that fell across the stream years ago and now seems to have anchored to both banks.
May Apples were sprouting everywhere. The ground was literally carpeted with them. In later May they’ll sport lovely white flowers under those umbrellas.
Many trees were toppled. I don’t remember it being a windy winter overall, but we did have a few very windy days, and they seem to have had a dramatic effect. (Maybe that accounts for so many May Apples — less leaf canopy = more sunlight.)
This one was covered with “wormoglyphics,” as my daughters used to call the exposed worm tracks beneath the bark.
It certainly does have the appearance of mysterious writing!
I walked on along the gorge, listening to the stream and surveying more fallen trees on the banks.
A pair of oven birds flitted worriedly around me, calling out “Teacher teacher TEACHER TEACHER TEACHER TEACHER TEACHER!!!“ I took a few fern photos and moved on.
Just before getting to this boardwalk I met two other walkers. We greeted each other, and as I walked on I heard one say to the other, “Nature is… dirty.” True enough! By this point my shoes were coated with mud, and I was glad to stump along on dry wood for awhile, following this runway back to the parking area.
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First Walk of Spring
It was April 17, and wetter than I expected, but the overcast was beginning to clear.
It’s always a delight to find color and texture after the long, monochrome palette of winter.
This stump is a study in change. It’s the same one I photographed in this post.
This preserve has a healthy population of large spotted salamanders. They close some of the roads so the salamanders can cross them — mostly at night, I think — in safety. When I got to the vernal pool, I found myself really hoping I might finally see one, but no. Just this fine fellow and his friends.
Lucy dislikes the boardwalk because it often results in long waits while her humans take pictures and exclaim over things they see. On this day we didn’t linger, though.
Once I saw this turtle, I started noticing them everywhere. There were a few tree swallows swooping over the water, as well as a phoebe observing us from a nearby branch.
All in all it was a lovely inauguration of the spring walking season.
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Forest Charles
He’s back: the enormous woodchuck we named Forest Charles because his bulk suggested the need for a more distinguished handle.
We spotted him first a few years ago, when he fell from a tree he was climbing. The earth trembled.
He’s a canny fellow, munching watchfully in the early morning. I’m convinced he can see me through the window when I point the camera at him, because he’s over the bank on a flash. How he stayed this large while hibernating I don’t know, but he’s making up for lost time among the weeds at the back edge of the yard. He seems to prefer weeds to garden fare, and he’s more than welcome to them.
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Housekeeping
I happened to catch sight of Mrs. Flicker doing some housekeeping after excavating her nest. She began with a critical appraisal from the outside…
Then, she ducked in…
. . . all the way in . . .
. . . and then emerged with a mouthful of shavings in her beak. She released them, but it was a windy day, so I could see the shavings blow away over her left shoulder.
She worked at it for awhile, bringing out several loads of litter. I suppose the interior is all ready for some eggs now — and she’s ready for a cozy rest incubating them!
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Spring Construction
A pair of flickers is making a nest cavity in the brush behind our house.
It’s hot out, but the female is working steadily, pausing periodically to call for her mate. (The picture above shows the male. The female doesn’t have the black streaks — Anna Botsford Comstock calls them “mustaches” — under her beak on each side.)
She’s quite beautiful. It’s one of the upsides to having dead trees that the birds can use them like this… even though sometimes it’s easier not to know. That way we aren’t as aware of the many difficulties they face: red squirrels, blue jays, Cooper’s hawks, snakes.
I wish them well!
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Mrs P
We’ve had a pileated woodpecker visit the suet cake on our feeder a time or two before. Since they’re huge in comparison to the downy, hairy, and red-bellied woodpeckers that make up our usual customer base, they make a dramatic entrance and always bring an air of novelty.
This year, however, we have a suet addict. This female pileated has been coming several times a day. I’m not sure why. Has another food source become scarce? Or does she just adore the high-concentration yumminess of suet?
