Drama, Subtlety, and the Long View

Drama and subtlety have been the watchwords this week, and Baltimore orioles have starred in the drama department.  With their vivid markings, all they have to do is show up to create drama, and they’ve just returned to southern Michigan.  I came upon one in the woods yesterday that was so gorgeous, the sight of him took my breath away and stopped me in my tracks.

     With less foofaraw, some of the neighborhood magnolias are reblooming.  They had bloomed earlier this spring.  Then they got slammed with a late snow and extended freeze.  Blossoms still on the trees turned brown and shriveled, some falling and some just hanging there.  Now we suddenly have summer heat, and the trees have decided that those days of winter weather were, in fact, winter and now it’s spring again.  Huzzah!  Time to bloom!  The trees aren’t as splendid as before the freeze, but they do look better.  It’s a subtle change.

     The dog and I have observed many birds landing on water recently.  Canada geese opt for drama.  They come in honking, legs extended in front of them, yelling, “Aaaaah!  Backwind the main!  Aaaaah!”  They make big splashes and honk some more.  “We’re here!  Get over it!” they shout at any geese that got there first, and possibly at the empty pond if they are the first to arrive.

     The egret, on the other hand, makes its living by stealth.  I watched one land on Thurston Pond and make not so much as a ripple.  The bird lowered itself straight down, those long-toed feet just cutting through the water.  The great egrets and great blue herons don’t always land with so little flourish and fanfare, but they have enough control to do so when they wish.  Geese, as far as you can tell by watching, see no point in not making an entrance.  With egrets and herons, the drama is in the appearance—the long legs and neck, the height, the wingspan greater than the height—and in the strike.

     Bird nests are focal points for drama and the lack thereof, too.  Killdeer nest on the ground, out in the open.  I saw one approaching its nest at a construction site.  The nest was so well camouflaged that I didn’t see it till the bird sat on it.  Then, the bird being equally well camouflaged, it disappeared again.  I took cross-bearings from surveyors’ flags, thinking I’d spot it the next time we walked by, but I haven’t found it again.  With survival at stake, killdeer nests are strictly hush-hush.

     So it is with cardinals.  We’ve had many bird families in our rosebush over the years, mostly robins.  It’s been easy to keep track of what’s going on in their nests because the parents fly off whenever we come or go, and then we just stand on tiptoe as necessary and take a look.  The cardinals have sited their nest to maximize concealment.  They don’t budge when we’re near.  The only way to tell if Mrs. Cardinal is in the nest is to catch a glimpse of her orange beak.  Mrs. Cardinal is Mrs. Discretion.

     The robins in the side-yard boxwood are not discreet.  They fly out of their nest and scold when other life forms go by.  Not only do the neighborhood cats know about them, even our dog knows about them.  The sparrows in our bluebird box are in a worse fix yet.  A bluejay has figured out they’re nesting in there, and it’s taken to hanging out on their roof.  The jay is too big to reach in for the eggs, but the future looks dim for any baby birds when it’s time to leave the nest.

     The attrition rate among ducklings and goslings is pretty high.  We’ll see mama and papa out with their numerous hatchlings, little balls of fluff that seem hardly to displace water.  Their numbers dwindle as the days go by, due in no small part to predation.  Prominent among their predators at Thurston Pond are snapping turtles.  Monster snappers patrol those waters.  They’ll pull the baby birds right down into the water as they skitter across the surface, and the babies are not seen again.  It makes you hope mama and papa can’t count.

     Snappers also go after eggs.  Most of the pond birds bear this in mind when selecting nesting sites but, this spring, one goose couple did not, and nested on the shore of the pond.  Frank and Elaine happened by when a snapper was making determined eye contact with the unfortunate mama sitting on her eggs.  With a stout stick, Frank prodded the turtle away from the nest and back into the water.  But the next time Frank and Elaine came by, mama was off the nest and two of her five eggs had been molested.

     A walk with Sue and Tesla through Stapp Park helped put the drama into perspective.  The park honors Bill Stapp, a local and global hero, the father of outdoor education and all-round nice guy.  His park is quiet and wooded and full of little hills.  It has vistas, where you can look out into the distance and see the contours of the land.  The wild geraniums in bloom.  And where the trail has gone and where it’s going. 

     Sometimes, it helps to take the long view.

21 May 2021   

1 comment

  1. Perfect title! Thanks for your blogs. They bring me peace and make me smile.

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