Autumn Glow

As we were walking toward the parking lot after dinner at Zukey Lake, I spotted a bald eagle on the wing.  It was easy to see, in an otherwise empty blue sky, and flying toward us, distinctive white head to the fore.  There were other people near us, making their way to or from the restaurant, but we didn’t know each other.  I extended my arm to its fullest extent and pointed at the raptor as we walked along. 

     Suddenly, folks were all abuzz.  “Look!  Would you look at that!”  “An eagle!”  “Boy, that’s not something you see every day!”  We had become an instant little community, united in our pleasure at seeing the magnificent bird.  It only lasted a moment, but there were smiles and looks of wonder all around. 

     I’ve been poring over field guides and on-line resources, trying to identify the raptor that appeared in our front yard yesterday.  It was enormous and grey and in hot pursuit of a squirrel.  The hawk must have been biding its time on a low branch, keeping an eye on that unsuspecting squirrel until the moment was right.  Which it apparently was, at the moment the hawk made itself known to us.

     The dog and I were just returning from our morning walk, when the bird exploded out of the foliage.  Then it saw us, aborted the attack, and disappeared like smoke into our smoke tree.  At which point, the squirrel became aware of us and hustled away.  Into the smoke tree.  To my astonishment, the big grey hawk did not grab it there, but chose instead to fly toward the back yard, empty-taloned.

     My prowls through reference works have, I believe, yielded an identification for the raptor.  It was a northern goshawk.  I don’t know that I’ve ever seen another one, but our experience of this one was close up and intense:  my memory of the strike is like an action still shot.  The bird had back-winded the main, wings and primary fingers spread, tail tucked, talons extended.  Were it not for our approach, that squirrel was definitely a goner.  Why the goshawk didn’t finish the critter off is a bit of a mystery.  The references make it clear that the bird could have grabbed it right there in the smoke tree.  They say also, though, that goshawks are shy and averse to human contact.  That was one lucky, oblivious squirrel.

     Walking through the woods around Thurston Pond the day before was much less dramatic.  Gentle, in fact.  The dog and I had been getting sprinkled on but, in the woods, the trees kept the rain from us.  I put down my raincoat hood and stayed dry.  At the same time, I could see the pattern that the raindrops were making on the surface of the pond.  On the dirt path, our footsteps were nearly silent, so it was easy to hear the rain rustling the leaves around us.  All in all, it felt like being tucked up and warm in a cottage on a lake on a soft, rainy day, with loved ones nearby.

     My husband returned from a run to Zingerman’s Bakehouse, excited about a tree he’d seen.  “It was so beautiful!” he said, and he is not one for gushing.  “It was the most beautiful tree in . . .”  He is one for tapering off mid-sentence.  “The county?” I prompted.  “The country, as far as I’m concerned,” he said, gushing again.  “It was orange and dark orange and light orange and green and light green and yellow, and all kinds of colors.  It was remarkable.”  “What kind of tree was it?” I asked, striving to complete my mental image.  “Big,” he answered. 

     We decided later, as we were driving into Dexter, that it must have been a maple.  Around here, the only tree that we know of that could produce those colors would be a maple.  Maples border the Joy Road approach to Dexter, and they are wondrous indeed, although not multicolored.  “Nice work on these trees,” he commented.  “Yes,” I answered.  They really know what they’re doing around here.”  This is a gorgeous autumn, with sunny days and cool nights, which Dave Rexroth, the chief meteorologist on Channel 7 Action News, tells us is what trees need to turn these brilliant colors. 

     And we haven’t even reached peak color season.  The maples in our back yard are still green, but they can be a yellow so bright that I reach into rooms to turn off lights that aren’t even on—the rooms are suffused with maple glow.  October in this part of Michigan is suffused with autumn glow.

14 October 2022