Harbinger of Spring

In much of North America, one of the most cheerful harbingers of spring is the song of the red winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) These handsome birds frequent marshy areas (often bounded by willow trees, which are usually the first trees to put out shoots- I am tempted to bust out the Robert Frost, "Nature's first green is gold..."), where they add a welcome dash of color to the background hues of cattails and marsh grass.


Yesterday, I heard the song of the male blackbird for the first time this year. It was a welcome reminder that, despite the huge piles of dirty snow that still dot area roadways, spring is imminent.

Mixed Signals

Today, it's pretty damn cold- currently the mercury is at 11 °F (-11.7 °C) in the City of Y______. Another winter storm is bearing down on the region, with snow accumulation predictions ranging from six to eighteen inches. This afternoon, though, I heard the herald of spring for much of North America, the trill of the red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus):





It's a serious case of mixed signals- the landscape and the air are stuck in the deep freeze, but the feisty little birds are singing a different tune. I don't expect a thaw anytime next week, and I sure hope the early blackbirds don't suffer from the brutal cold. I'm sure looking forward to seeing their beauty after the snow:

At Last, Comes the Spring

I've had it with winter- last Friday morning, working during the wee hours, I was wearing five layers of clothes to cover my "core" during my outdoor forays, due to the cold and the fierce wind. Thankfully, the wind has died down and the cold has somewhat abated. More significantly, I heard the distinctive trill of the red-winged blackbird this morning. Forget the woodchuck, the boid is the true harbinger of spring throughout much of North America.

Also on the bird front, the geese are very vocal, with large migratory flocks honking overhead. We always have a resident population of geese around here, taking advantage of the stretches of open water, but the migratory population has eclipsed the stay-at-home bunch. Oddly enough, the wiki indicates that Canada geese have been introduced to New Zealand... can I get a confirmation from a reputable Antipodean, preferably a science talking guy (or gal)? We also have some visiting Ring Necked Ducks and mergansers both hooded and common, but they tend to leave us as the weather gets warmer. While the juncos are with us year-round, they tend to be the most common small birds to stay the winter. You can recognize them by the flash of white seen at the edges of their tails as they fly off, the shy little things.

I'm looking forward to spring, though I'd be lying if I said that winter doesn't have its pleasures. I have the privilege of spending a lot of time outdoors, so I can observe the seasonal changes. The avian "changing of the guard" is one of my favorite ways to gauge the succession of seasons. Of course, I'll now have to check out the part of the property where the snowdrops come in... so many old friends to welcome back!

Have Yourselves a Groovy Little Solstice*

So, it was the first day of winter, although it's felt like winter for a couple of weeks now. Just as the arrival of the red winged blackbird heralds spring, I've always seen the arrival of buffleheads as a signal that winter has come (as the old song goes, Gone away is the bluebird, here to stay is a new bird). Of course, the male hooded merganser can often be mistaken for a bufflehead, though the accompanying females with rusty-red heads give the charade away. The hooded mergansers also tend to overwinter in the area, thus leading to potential confusion.

Last night, I stayed up late to watch the lunar eclipse- the nearly full moon was ringed by an icy halo, and the shadow of the earth gradually obscured Earth's celestial "daughter". While observing the dance of the heavenly bodies, I was lucky enough to see an extremely bright meteor. Even though it was freezing out, the night was enchanting. Yeah, winter may be a drag sometimes, but it surely came in on a high note.


*Title lifted from a hilarious, criminally neglected song.

Post-Solstice Solace

Last summer, I had the great good fortune to visit one of the most supportive members of the bloggerhood, Thunder. On the door to his world-famous Cacapon Mountain hideaway, there is a sign reading WHEN THE WORLD BURDENS YOU SEEK THE SOLITUDE OF THE FOREST!

The last few days have been rough, me having learned of the deaths of two friends. Luckily, I work in a beautiful location, and though it is not heavily forested, it is a wonderful place in which to take refuge when the world burdens me (I'm really fortunate to have a job which tends to be a stress reliever rather than a source of stress). Today was a glorious sunny day, albeit a chilly one. Most of the snow from Friday's storm has melted and there are many signs of spring. I finally heard the welcome call of the red-winged blackbird, a surefire sign that spring has arrived. The robins (our American robins are large thrushes) have finally returned, and I saw a jaunty mockingnbird as well. I saw two male wood ducks, likely from last year's local brood, in our pond. There are black-headed scaups of uncertain provenance in the pond, likely mid-migration, and the hooded mergansers have returned to the ice-free waters. Perhaps most welcome of all (though I hate to play favorites), the killdeer, those comical noisy birds, so much like crazy windup toys, have returned. Watching the returning birds and listening to their calls is a surefire way to life one's sagging spirits.

Nature has a palliative power... when the world burdens you, take solace in the world.

Spring Is Here, Ouchy and Delicious

Among the welcome signs of early Spring, among the sound of the red-winged blackbird, and the sight of the American robin, is the emergence of the stinging nettles on the property.  They are small and unobtrustive at this point, but will be good eating when they get a bit taller.

Nettles have a high protein content, so their emergence in the early Spring was fortuitous for our forebears, who needed nutritious foodstuffs after a Winter of preserved foods... if they were lucky.

Back in 2020, when grocery shelves were bare (one night, the only stuff in the entire frozen food aisle at Stop-and-Shop were bags of okra, necessitating Gumbo Week), the one thought that kept me going was 'you just have to hold out for nettle season'.  Once the nettles came up, the bare grocery shelves didn't loom so large.

It helps that nettles are delicious, and, once parboiled to remove the 'sting', can be used for any applications that one would use spinach or kale for.  Even better, the emergence of the nettles is the harbinger of other plants emerging- the lambs quarters, the pokeweed... the promise of greater bounty.

Dreaming of an Imminent Spring

A week ago, I was shivering in single-digit temperatures, but the temperature underwent a sixty degree (Fahrenheit) jump sometime in the morning hours of last Monday, and have been seasonally warm since then. This weekend, I saw my first American robins (Turdus migratorius) of the year, and heard the first red winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) of the year. With the return of these cheer-inducing avian charmers, I can be assured that Spring is nigh.

On the dendrological front, the first local trees to regrow their foliage in the Spring are the willows (genus Salix), which start to sprout golden shoots:

The site that forms my typical workplace is home to a small tributary of the mighty Hudson River, and the bank of this small river is home to a bunch of willows:

Some of the local willow trees are contorted into fantastic shapes:

Wandering along the meandering bank of this small watercourse on an overcast afternoon, I was struck by how druidical the vibe was... I was expecting these guys to come by:





I might not live in the Land of Dreams, but sometimes it's a dream job.

A Most Welcome Spring

 This past winter was a fairly harsh one, with a two-foot snowfall setting the stage for a cold end to a season which eventually dumped a yard of snow on the yard.  Thankfully, I live in a functional state (despite our Governor turning out to be a shithead), so the harsh winter was a minor inconvenience.  Sure, there were weeks when I simply left my car at work, but I have a workplace, and the public transportation infrastructure is fantastic.

Still, I'm glad winter is over.  I can put the flannel-lined jeans in storage.  Even more importantly, old friends are returning: i heard the trill of a red-winged blackbird resounding from the marsh on the property, on the drive home I see skunks gamboling throughout my neighborhood, my beloved stinging nettles are poking through the leaf litter. Soon, the spring peepers will be chiming their love songs by the pools of meltwater throughout the night.  The robins and mourning doves have returned.  

More importantly, it's more comfortable being outside, in conditions more salubrious than cramped indoor spaces.  Soon, it will be feasible to take the old laptop outside and work al fresco.   The social isolation of a pandemic winter will be mitigated.  With the prospect of vaccines being broadly available, it looks as if a genuine spring awakening is on its way.

Audio Refutation of Visual Evidence

This morning, well it's frigid (19F,  -7.2C).  The wind chill makes it feel like 10F.  The entire site is basically a skating rink, so I didn't do any Scooby Dooing (is too a verb) around the property.  Of course, I had to feed the cat before leaving, so I braved the icy walk to the building where she's been holed up (the other heated building onsite), using two broomstick handles to steady myself as I traversed the frozen ground.

Although the site is icy, and the air is cold, there are signs that Spring is imminent, particularly a sound which seemed incongruous on such a Winter's day:

If you listen carefully, you can hear a distinctive trilling sound repeated several times.  That is the surest harbinger of Spring in the Northeastern United States, the call of the red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus).  These brash birds tend to favor marshy areas, such as much of this site.  They are always a welcome presence, and hearing them warmed my heart on this cold, cold morning.

Gloaming

I often describe one of my jobs as "very cushy, except when it's not"- today has been the perfect exemplar of my little conundrum. My department is very small, so the slightest irregularity in scheduling can play hob with my circadian rhythms. I had to work "split" shifts today- both the midnight to eight A.M., and the four P.M to midnight. I watched the sun rise at 5:22, and watched it set at 8:30. In a cruel caprice of fortune, I had to address some issues midday with another job when I should have been ironing my ears. That being said, the schedule is a killer, but the actual workday has been wonderful.

This morning, I saw a thrilling little drama play out, as two mockingbirds mobbed a crow unrelentingly- at one point, they were joined by a red-winged blackbird, and the little passerines drove the crow across an open area, where it flushed a half dozen noisy killdeer out of hiding. The barn swallows were engaging in their marvellous aerobatics, and a catbird, looking quite saucy in its jaunty black cap, gave me a good-natured scolding.

This evening, as the sun lowered in the west, I sat outside to watch my beloved bats take over the aerobatic show as the swallows called it a day. The killdeer were still piping in the twilight, as multitudes of fireflies rose from the tall grass, looking like embers rising from a bonfire. In a low-lying area, where my favorite nettle patch gives way to cattails, another variety of firefly- a quicker, more nervous variety, with a rapid display reminiscent of a camera flash in color and duration- could be seen. These fireflies aren't easily caught and, by frequenting nettle patches and marshes, would pose all sorts of perils to any child dauntless enough to attempt such a capture.

I love the transition from day to night, and the changing of the faunal guard, so this tiny bit of doggerel I wrote years back is a lie, a bit of poetic license in service of a silly muse, too undignified to be numbered among the Nine:

Crepuscular critters
Give me the jitters.

With almost two hours of work to go, I'm tired, but my mood is good (in fact, I feel as jaunty as a catbird). In honor of the fireflies, here's a song which came to mind, even though it expresses a mood which is completely at odds with how I feel:





WARNING: Before you watch the video, please be warned that the song may turn you gay. Also, check out the video for Ennio Morricone's The Ecstasy of Gold at the link- pure bliss!

Postscript: I could have substituted a "T" for the "M" in the title, now that I re-read the post.