Wednesday morning, as the dog and I strolled down Georgetown, a group of small brown birds came swirling into a nearby treetop. The sun was low in the sky and the birds were, as per normal when some critter catches my eye, backlit. Still, we stopped so I could watch them for a while. They had the nothing-to-write-home-about coloring of sparrows—browns and buffs—but they were daintier and didn’t behave like sparrows; they were too busy.
Goldfinches that had already lost their summer color? Mid-September seemed early for no hint of yellow. Also, there were no little finchy voices, just chatter. Finally, one of the sprites working its way up, down, and around that tree paused in profile. Backlighting notwithstanding, there’s no mistaking the profile of a wren.
That left just the question of why the wrens were traveling in a group. Was this a nest group? The numbers were about right—five to seven energetic little flitters. The information I looked up later said that babies leave the nest a couple weeks after they hatch. Maybe they leave the nest but stay close to home? Maybe wrens are starting to gather, prior to migration? In any case, seeing a group of wrens was a treat.
Something much easier for a neighborhood walker to identify is a car backing out of a driveway. As a pedestrian, I operate on the assumption that it’s easier for me to see that neighbor than it is for that neighbor to see me. I stop well back and wait for the driver to proceed. Occasionally, though, the driver sees us in a timely fashion, and then we have to reach an understanding as to who’s going where. I always indicate clearly that the driver should go ahead, and mostly that’s what happens.
Twice on Wednesday morning, the driver waved us through first, both times on our own street. Dave, down the block from us, indicated we should take precedence. No real surprise there. He’s a courteous man in his nineties, and errs on the side of caution. The driver backing out at the bottom of the hill, though, surprised us. Rascal and I were hardly up to her house when she cleared her garage, and yet she waved us on. I smiled and waved back, and we started behind her.
When we were close enough for her to be heard, she leaned her head out the window and said, “I’m going to the dentist: I’m in no hurry.” We both got a chuckle out of that.
One other important thing happened during Wednesday’s walk. I pains me to speak of it. When the dog and I got to the bottom of the hill on Georgetown, we found ourselves with no good options. DTE trucks were everywhere, five at Georgetown and Plymouth alone, and more multiples at every intersection we could see. They were all bucket trucks, known around here as cherry pickers. All the important.
We couldn’t take the sidewalk to the left or the right without ending up where folks were working. Trying to cross Plymouth Road without a crosswalk would be foolhardy. Crossing Plymouth—speed limit forty-five—even in a crosswalk is tough enough. There is a pedestrian crossing close by on the left, and that’s where I headed. Many of the workers were looking at the dog and me. None of them tried to wave us off or redirect us.
When Rascal and I reached the part of the sidewalk from which one accesses the crosswalk, a hard-hatted man held his two-way radio to his mouth and said, “Yeah, I got her.”
Before he could say more, I indicated to him that we would cross the road there and not come back.
“I’ll help you,” he said, and set off into the street between parked trucks. He didn’t push the button that activates the flashing lights, which are there solely to alert drivers that someone is in the crosswalk.
It must not have power, I thought; no wonder he wants to help me.
But no. A few steps out, he went back and pushed the button. The lights flashed.
Oh, good, I thought. I’m in business now.
Nope. The nice man in the hard hat saw me just past the middle of the road, made sure that traffic had stopped for me, and watched as I finished crossing.
All in all, Wednesday’s walk was a memorable one. I saw a bunch of wrens all at once. I enjoyed a laugh with a neighbor. And I officially became a little old lady that someone helps across the street.
22 September 2023