![]() There is so much around to capture my attention and divert my mind from the gloom of the cloudy day. The moment I enter the tree line, I feel a sense of immediate relief. What is one to do? Take to the woods, I say! And this morning I did just that. The sun hasn’t broken free for days and, despite the mild weather, that can really dampen one’s mood. What scenario plays out in your mind to explain the mystery of the missing feeder? However, even as I sit and gaze upon the returning chickadees, I realize that the mystery has yet to be solved. A couple weeks in and the missing sphere-o-sunflower-snackbar has been found! It was twenty feet away from the tree from which it hung, hanging close to the ground near a large fallen limb. Elated, I braved the still knee-deep snow to retrieve it and put it back in use. This spring brought with it slooooooooowly warming temperatures and, in turn, sloooooooowly melting snow. Nothing to do but fill the void with another feeder. Many a chickadee, nuthatch and downy woodpecker had visited regularly, filling up with sunflower seeds to carry them through those cold, crisp nights. Since the bears were all sound asleep, my mind turned to other local mammals – deer, squirrels, a wayward owl perhaps?ĭisappointment reigned. This one was a recent addition – a small, spherical wire mesh feeder perfect for small birds. New feeders have slowly been added to the tree line over the years, attrition from our weather and, more excitingly, a visit from a bear claiming them every now and then. No fresh snow had fallen to cover it up, no fresh tracks in the snow revealed an unusual visitor to the scene. Bewildered, I stood in the spot next to the tree from which it hung. It was deep into this past winter when the feeder mysteriously disappeared. The longer I stand, the more sound I hear.Īnd when I look away and turn to come back to the plowed road, I notice a difference. The echoes of winter birds and squirrels chase each other through the woods. In fact, in the cold air it seems as if sounds are magnified and crisp. I can hear the branches rub against each other (see John Zasada’s upcoming article in the spring Woods Reader). In the winter I walk in my Muck boots up to the edge of the trees and stop.īut amazingly, the same effect happens! I stand there, staring through the trees. The realization hit now, in the winter, but the walk I’m thinking of is in the summer. What’s wrong with this picture? You’ve spotted it. then I’m just walking, enjoying the whole package: breeze, the movement of leaves, the sound of a squirrel scolding, the rush of wings in a fly-by. ![]() Then I walk a little and listen for the sinkhole frogs. ![]() ![]() Then I step over a root and bend down to see the mushroom nestled there. When I walk on a woodland trail I start out for exercise, walking deliberately. I realized that Nature has its own rhythm. Then slowly, the lead cow started to move and the others gradually followed. No one had a schedule, an appointment, things to do. ![]() No one at the back was anxiously urging them forward. But again, they were full and there wasn’t any reason to move ahead. The hay was waiting (and so were the buckets). There wasn’t any reason for them to pause that I could see. I was following along to collect buckets. Ferdinand the bull was the last in line, watching that everyone was there. The cattle were finished eating and were on their way back to the field along the narrow track through the snow. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |