A brown cloak in the sun

There has not been much to report these past few weeks of cruel, late winter. However, there are signs of spring besides emergent flowering bulbs. An ardent song sparrow has been sitting atop the holly bush and singing its heart out even amidst falling late winter snow. Yesterday as I looked out on the garden I spotted a large butterfly. I ran outside into the spring sunshine, camera in hand, because I knew that I had seen a mourning cloak (Nymphalis antiopa), the first of the season and a true harbinger of spring. It landed on a large stone in the sun, wings open so that its dark brown wings could absorb radiant heat from the sun. It sat there for several minutes providing me the opportunity to get a good close-up photograph. Yellow margins on the wing and azure blue iridescent spots add refinery to a somber, brown cloak. After a while the beauty took off and fluttered around me before landing again on my head! I felt a tickle in my hair and a feeling of joy. We have both come through the winter to bask in spring sunshine at last. Mourning cloaks are thought to be the longest-lived of all butterflies. Adults can live up to 10 to 11 months and most of them overwinter. Only some migrate south in the fall.

Promise of spring

Yesterday radiant heat from the sun was melting the blanket of snow and my face was warmed along with my mood. Melt water was audibly dripping revealing flowering snowdrops and crocuses in small pockets of bare earth.

Today is a dull day with snow in the forecast. But the birds are singing as fervently as ever. I’ve been observing them for the Great Backyard Bird Count. The squirrels must be hunkered down because they seem to be leaving the bird feeder alone letting the chickadees and titmice have a free run. A northern cardinal is singing high up in the holly tree. White-throated sparrows are scratching about in exposed leaf litter. A song sparrow spends some time in the safety of the cage surrounding the feeder. A furtive dark-eyed junco is hopping about beneath. A white-breasted nuthatch spirals down the trunk of an oak tree and in the distance I spot a downy woodpecker. Last but not least, the tiny Carolina wren pays a fleeting visit to round off my list.

Un-wanted winter pruners

They usually visit unseen, leaving chewed-off twigs and cloven footprints in the dirt. Lately, I caught sight of a pair of them in the act. They came through a break in the overgrown Japanese ilex hedge. This was just a quick visit, a walk-through for sampling easy to reach plants along a well-trodden path. They seem particularly partial to red-twig dogwood that, I must say, has brilliant red stems in winter because of them. 

Whenever I see a white-tailed deer in the garden I’m torn between admiring their beauty and regretting their very presence.They are only just beginning to frequent gardens in this area. I have seen first-hand the damage deer can do to habitat in woodland and parks and I fear for the native plants and vegetables I plan to plant in my garden.

I cringe when I hear a duck hunter’s gunshot echo from the Sound early on a weekend morning. And, I would probably not like to hear a deer hunter’s gun even more. Besides, I’m not partial to eating venison. But how should we control the burgeoning numbers of this prevalent herbivore? Re-introduce their major predator? We have after all created the problem by reducing areas of wild land for the suburbs. Replacing forest openings with lawn and foraging material with exotic and tender plants. Meanwhile, before we ever come up with a solution I am researching fencing options.

A Bright Winter's Light

When I look out on the garden on a snow-less winter’s day I appreciate the subtle colors and textures of this dormant season. Oak leaf litter, furrowed bark, straw, grey fluff of seeds, and black beads of fern have replaced the dominance of leafy green. A blue sky framed by stark tree branches seems all the more vivid. As do a cardinal’s plumage or red twigs of dogwood. In summer months I barely notice the blue on a nuthatch wing, or yellow on a white-throated sparrow. Does the tufted titmouse always sport an orange flank? At the winter bird feeder, against a muted background, the red-bellied woodpecker and all the other hungry visitors reveal their true colors. The seed heads in the meadow have been nibbled and pecked. Now the dried grass stems catch winter breezes and late-afternoon sunbeams.

Irruption at the Feeder

Pine Siskin at the feeder

Sunflower seed and thistle mixture do not last long in the bird feeders, which I hung following the storms. A variety of birds fly in from all directions to take their turn, although a few squabbles sort out the pecking order. Chickadees and white-breasted nuthatches dash in and out for just one fat seed, chased by vociferous tufted titmice. A sedate red-bellied woodpecker takes its own sweet time, while cardinals and blue jays clear the area with their presence. Below the feeder on the ground white-throated sparrows and a lone fox sparrow perform their little skips and hops to scrap up spilt seed. This all changes when huge flocks of pine siskin descend and dominate the feeder for an hour or so at a time. This being an irruptive year for these sweet little birds, I am pleased to see them and prefer them emptying the feeder than the squirrels. 

Echinacea seed head picked clean by goldfinches

Downed Oak

The wrath of hurricane Sandy did not untangle the woods behind our house, but brought down an oak out front. The top of the tree was snapped off like a matchstick. It landed, as if placed conveniently, on our septic field without destroying car or roof or power line. It is sad to see the destruction of such a majestic tree. The downed trunk and limbs gave me an opportunity to observe the top and innards of the tree up close and reminded me of the huge amount of biomass a tree supports. Amongst the splinters and twisted sinews, which still smell sweet of freshly severed wood, you can see the heartwood and sapwood. The bark of the tree is adorned with pale green foliose lichen. Leaf buds held on the tips of twigs amongst yellowing leaves will never fulfill the promise of spring.

The season mellows

Red Admiral butterfly

There is so much to enjoy in this season of migrants and mellow yellow fruitfulness. The goldenrod flowers have faded, but there are splashes of yellow, orange and red besides turning leaf color. I have seen them on tail feathers of yellow-rumped warblers, the throat of a common yellowthroat and on the wings of migrating red admiral butterflies. The marigolds in the vegetable garden always seem to be at their prime just before they are nipped by frost. Red-osier dogwood stems (despite being chomped on by deer), chokeberry and winterberry furnish with reds. By contrast, amongst the pastel colors of the meadow, ripened seeds feed finches of muted color. Brown feathers of hen-of-the-woods fungus billow from the base of an oak tree. Today, the dark-eyed juncos returned.