I am sitting on a riverbed
looking for stones to balance.
They clank against each other
as I look through them.
None of them are the same,
but they all belong together.
I pick them up
one at a time and
assess their stackability.
I feel their weight
as the gravity
of the earth
pulls on their bodies.
I feel their warmth
as they lie there
soaking in the fire
of the sun.
I feel their texture and shape,
the wearing river
smoothing their bodies.
I stack them up
carefully resting one
on top of the other.
Sometimes they topple
and mix in with the other rocks.
I pick them up again.
I reuse some of the same ones
and find new ones.
I am reminded of a story.
I want to tell you about a time
that my dad went fishing.
This is not a fish story,
although he had many of those.
He often floated a stream
that flows through Virginia called the New River.
He liked this particular section
because the fishing was good
and the boat launches
were easy to use.
He had a small, aluminum boat
with an electric motor
that he used to navigate
and propel the boat.
He also used a paddle
in calmer sections.
It was comfortable to sit in.
One day, he was fishing this
stretch of the river
and came to a spot in the middle
of the river where he decided
to put the anchor out.
He was sitting there tying on a lure
and noticed a doe and two fawns
walking along the shore.
He watched them as they
quietly browsed along the water’s edge.
Suddenly, they stopped
and looked back downstream
intently pointing their ears
in that direction.
My dad saw a dog
coming towards them.
The two fawns went up the bank
and disappeared into a thicket.
The doe walked into the river
where it got a little deeper.
She crouched in the water,
submerged her body,
raised her head,
and left only her nose sticking
out of the water.
The dog came to where the deer
were standing and excitedly sniffed around.
Unable to find anything,
he quickly moved on.
A few minutes later, the doe slowly
stood up and cautiously looked around.
Seeing that the dog had moved on,
she walked out of the river
and went up the bank
in the direction of the two fawns.
Black-headed Grosbeak Nest
A pair of black-headed grosbeaks successfully raised two babies in this nest. It was right above a trail and low enough that as I walked under it I could have reached up and touched the bottom of the nest. The grosbeak parents were always cautious when approaching the nest. They usually waited nearby for a moment before flying up to the nest. When they decided to go to the nest, they swooped in quickly. The babies reached up with open mouths to receive food, but I didn’t hear them make any begging calls. They were always quiet or at least quiet enough to where I couldn’t hear them.
I took these photos primarily to show you how airy the nest is. When I walked under it and glanced up, I was always amused that I could see the birds. That said, this nest is sturdier than it looks. This twiggy conglomeration usually stays in the tree for a year or more. Even after this winter’s devastating ice storm that took down so many trees and branches, I saw a grosbeak nest in an osoberry shrub that was still there. It seems remarkable considering how loosely constructed they appear to be.
Nature is an inexhaustible source of wonder. I look forward to seeing you out there.
Western Wood-Pewee Nest
I found a Western Wood-Pewee nest that was low enough on a limb where you could watch it and see what was going on. I called Patrick at the arboretum and we met to look at it through his scope. He can attach his phone to the scope and we took these photos. Thanks Patrick!
It was fun watching the parents feed nestlings. The babies would open their bills wide and stretch their heads as high as possible. After they were fed, they would lay their heads down on the side of the nest and rest. The three babies are already filling up the nest. The parents have to perch on the side, wiggle their way over them to sit on the nest, and still can’t completely cover them. The babies were so beautiful with the morning sunlight illuminating their down feathers.
All About Birds by The Cornell Lab writes: “The female builds a dense and compact nest out of grasses, plant fibers, bark, and plant down. She uses spiderwebs to bind the nesting material together and camouflages the outside of the nest with mosses, bud scales, and insect skins. She lines the inside with fine grasses and feathers. It takes her anywhere from 3 days to 2 weeks to complete the nest, which measures about 3 inches wide and 2.5 inches tall.”
This is a fun bird to watch and get to know. Happy birding and I hope to see you out there!
Ode to Butterflies
There’s a map of sorts—
a dreamscape
that tumbles out
of a box of celestial crayons
when you are born.
It’s a bewildering tangle
of squiggly lines
drawn by the flip-floppy flight
of butterflies.
The only person
who can read it
or follow it
is the squealing,
summer-soaked child
with a berry-stained mouth
and skinned knees
spinning in circles
under the bright
blue sky
with a compass
that points to
laughter and delight
in every direction
that lives
inside of you.
Petrophila Moths
This is a tiny moth and moths can be hard to find because they are well-camouflaged and like to stay hidden during the day. I usually see moths when I accidentally disturb them from the side of a tree, in the grass, etc. Last year while I was on an insect walk Karen Richards showed us these extraordinary moths flitting along the river.
If you can see where one lands and slowly go over to it, you will see how beautiful its coloration and markings are. Its wings fold over the back of its body like an elegant cape with shimmering sequins ringed by black at the base with a little fringe below.
These moths have an amazing life cycle. Read what the BugGuide said about Petrophila confusalis: “Adult females enter the water, up to 4 meters deep, to oviposit (200 - 300 eggs), carrying a plastronlike layer of air as a source of oxygen that sustains them from 4 to 12 hours. After ovipositing they die in the water. Some females only submerge partially, without fully breaking the water tension, and deposit eggs shallowly over several days.”
This little moth is a reminder to me to slow down and notice the small creatures. They are beautiful and can have miraculous stories. I hope that you are enjoying your summer.
Resource
Species Petrophila Confusalis - Confusing Petrophila - Hodges#4780. https://bugguide.net/node/view/39602. Accessed 29 June 2024.
Indigo Bunting
The indigo bunting,
an ethereal blue flame
flickering in the sun,
delivers a message.
Along the waistline
of the earth
there is a swirling naval
from where imagination,
creativity,
wonder and love
gush out
of the belly of Mother Earth.
You don’t need to go
looking for it.
You are connected to it
through your heart,
through nature.
Looking Closer
It was a nice quiet evening at the arboretum. I was standing at the edge of the meadow just south of the pavilion trying to get at an angle where I could get a look at an oriole nest. I got a little distracted when a couple of goldfinches flew down into the grass in front of me to eat some seeds. As I watched them, I became captivated by the colors and shapes of all the grass seeds in the meadow. As I explored the ones in front of me, I noticed that they had insects on them that looked like grass seeds. Their bodies mimicked the shape of the seeds and their antennae looked like the spike coming off the top of the seeds. I was fascinated at how well they blended in and resembled the seeds. You can also see the long tubular mouth part called a rostrum used for piercing and sucking out plant juices, probably from the grass. As I was trying to take a photo of one, it reared back and appeared to be extending its ovipositor into one of the seeds to lay its eggs. I became absorbed for quite a while in the grass and found many more creatures living there. It is easy to become distracted by the abundance of life bustling about in the warmth of summer. I did eventually circle back and find the oriole nest. The parents would occasionally fly down into the meadow in search for food, and I imagine found some of these insects to take back to their hungry, begging babies.
I uploaded this photo into iNaturalist and it suggested that this was a plant bug in the genus Megaloceroea in the Miridae family.
Myrmecochory
Myrmecochory (pronounced: muhr-muh-koh-KOR-ee) is the dispersal of fruits and seeds by ants. I love this word!
At the arboretum, there are three plants (trillium, bleeding heart, and the inside-out flower) with seeds that have a white, oil-rich appendage known as an elaiosome, which is attractive to ants. They will collect the seed to eat the elaiosome and then discard the seed, thus helping to disperse it.
This one is the seed of the inside-out flower. The pods split open and curl back into interesting, wavy shapes revealing beautiful red seeds nestled in foamy white elaiosomes. I imagine them being a delicate French pastry in the case of a bakery in Paris.
I put these seeds on a well-traveled ant trail and they immediately were attracted to them. Interestingly, they removed the elaiosome in pieces and carried it off. They didn't take the seed with the elaiosome attached back to the nest to process it. I watched them for an hour and a half dismantle one of the elaiosomes and leave the seed behind a small distance from where I had placed it.
When I watched ants tear open the pods of the trillium, they also took the elaiosome off the seed and discarded the seed next to the plant. They didn’t transport it back to the nest to remove the elaiosome. I took the bleeding heart seeds, put them on the same ant highway, and the ants took them away within a minute without first removing the elaiosome from the seed. Maybe those seeds were smaller or lighter which made them easier to transport.
Seeds are amazing, and I recommend checking out the ways they travel across the landscape. They can fly through the air, float on water, attach to the fur of animals, roll across the ground, launch as the seed pod bursts open, and be carried off by birds or insects.
Nature is an inexhaustible source of wonder. I hope to see you out there.
Bobcat
There is so much
I want to tell you
and most of it
is not in words.
There aren’t any
to describe the quiet
footfalls of a cat
as it gently allows
its weight to shift
from one paw to the next.
I can’t speak it
because it is silent.
I could only have you
lay down by the river
and feel the gravity
of the earth.
Ask you to surrender
to its embrace
and let it fill your heart.
Then I’ll tenderly
press my hand onto
your body in reverence
and gratitude for your being.
Yellow-breasted Chat
In the south meadow, a bird is making a cacophony of sounds. Its repertoire of vocalizations is a mishmash of whistles, hiccups, zings, whirling toots, clacks, and squawks bustling with merriment. It sounds like a mini carnival has rolled into town.
Meet the yellow-breasted chat. I say “meet” if you are lucky enough to see it. It mostly stays tucked away in the underbrush as it sings away right in front of you. Lately, it has been hanging out in an island of vegetation consisting of an ash tree, a thicket of blackberries, a cluster of willows, and dense snowberry shrubbery.
I am considering setting up a booth in front of its little haven and calling it Find the Birdie. I’ll wear a bright yellow suit with a dapper top hat. Step right up folks and find the birdie. Zip-zurple Toot. He’s in there somewhere. Burp Whirdle Peep. He could be down low in the willow. Pop Crackle Gulp. Or maybe a little higher up in the canopy of the ash. Caw Chortle Cluck. Try your luck. It’s only a buck!
Luckily, I caught a glimpse of it as it briefly popped into the open and as if to take a bow in recognition of its vocal performance. It’s a beautiful bird, and it was well worth the time and effort to see it. I hope you are enjoying the spring. Happy Birding!
Chickadee Fledgling
I heard a bird begging and saw a couple of black-capped chickadees zipping about scouring the understory of plants looking for food. I found the fledgling nearby quietly sitting on a branch looking at its new, beautiful world. If a parent came near, it would start begging and open its mouth wide ready to receive nourishment. I like the photo that I captured below showing the parent briefly pausing as it turns to fly away in search of more food. It looks like the unshaven, disheveled dad who’s a little weary from caring for his kids. His eye looks a tad puffy from lack of rest and seems to be looking at me as if to say, “Put down the camera and help me find some caterpillars!” The fledgling is lovingly turning towards him as he flies away. One of the things that always comes to mind when I see a fledgling chickadee is that it is one of the few times I see a chickadee sit still on a branch. These action-packed birds never seem to stop moving, but a fledgling will often perch in the same spot for a bit and maybe nap a little. Happy birding!
Downy Woodpecker Feeding Babies
Mount Pisgah is a peaceful place that also experiences a fair amount of noise pollution. The rushing sounds of the interstate nearby can easily be heard. There are farms just across the river with tractors and other equipment buzzing. There is vehicle traffic in and out of the park with the bustling of people and their devices.
Yesterday I was sitting up on the hillside, so I could hear many different sounds of nature and civilization. To the south, I could hear a continuous sound mixed in with the hum. After listening to it for a while I decided it was in the park and went to investigate further. I was intrigued by how continuous the sound was. It was fairly faint and I wasn’t sure if it was nearby. Maybe it was obstructed by the hillside or trees or maybe facing away from me. I came around to the other side of the hill and the sound got a little stronger. I was fascinated by how constant it was. I decided to sit down and listen. After about 10 minutes, I caught out of the corner of my eye a bird flying up to a tree for a moment and then it flew away. What!? That continuous sound is begging birds! The tree cavity was facing away from me, and once I positioned myself around the other side I could just get a glimpse of the entrance and hear the birds clearer.
I listened and watched for a bit. I was amazed at how nonstop the begging of the baby birds was and the parents were coming and going constantly. It must be so exhausting to keep up with feeding them. It was a good reminder of how much energy birds expend to raise a family. Plus they have to be constantly looking over their shoulders to make sure a predator isn’t nearby. They must be frazzled by the end of the day.
Incense Cedar Gall
Amidst the confusion this year of trying to figure out the female flower of an incense cedar tree, I discovered what initially appeared to be a cone developing is actually a gall. I was tipped off that this growth was different because I came across an incense cedar with developing cones. I immediately realized that they were not the same.
I was walking around with a friend at the arboretum and we decided to cut one of these growths open and see what it was like inside. When we cut it in half, it was fleshy and green inside, and there wasn’t an insect or larva inside. Thinking that there had to be something inside, we cut one of the halves in half to further investigate. We found a tiny, metallic green wasp cradled inside! I mean this insect was tiny. I took a heap of photos to try and show it to you. They mostly turned out fuzzy because the insect was so small. I couldn’t zoom in close and get a photo with decent resolution. The one below is the best one of them.
I am fascinated by the world of galls, how they form, the variation of their colors and shapes, and the diversity of wasps. It is such a mysterious world to me. It seems like a whole other level of awareness to tune into these tiny creatures and observe their life cycle. It reminds me that there is a vast universe of life unfolding right before me of which I am mostly unaware.
I posted about a small, orange caterpillar I found at the tip of one of the branches in January (Incense Cedar Branch Tip Mystery) that I thought was one of the female flowers. Maybe these two phenomena are connected.
Spotted Sandpiper
It’s morning.
I am sitting by the river on a small gravel bar.
Sunlight brushes across the tops of the cottonwoods.
A light, upstream breeze is blowing in from the ocean.
The air smells sweet and freshly laundered.
In front of me, a thicket of willows
lightly sweeps back and forth
in eddies of wind.
The willows grow from an anchor of stones—
a cobbled bed, smoothed
over centuries
by elemental friction.
A shallow sheet of water covers
this abraded bed.
A gentle current channels
its way through small, quiet pools.
It is a refuge.
It’s abundant with creatures visiting
to drink water, bathe, forage, and nest.
One of my favorites is the spotted sandpiper.
During breeding, the white canvas
of its winter breast
becomes dotted with a patchwork
of inky, brown spots
giving it its name.
It has a curious behavior
of bobbing its tail up and down.
I imagine it on a playground
with kids delightfully teetering on its body.
It loves to hop about the rocks
and wade through the water.
It will make visits over to me
if I am still.
Sometimes it will travel along the river.
It flies low over the water
and mixes short, rapid wingbeats
in with small glides.
I lose sight of it sometimes,
but I can hear the clear, simple
high-pitched notes it sings
as it wanders and explores.
I look forward to it returning every year
and spending time here.
I never tire of watching it
and being in the presence of
its peacefulness and elegance.
Cedar Waxwings Eating Twinberries
I was walking around the south meadow and remembered to go check on one of my favorite plants, the twinberry. It received significant damage from the ice storm, and I was concerned how well it might recover. It leafed out beautifully at the beginning of spring, and I felt reassured as it flourished with plenty of yellow blossoms. I knew the berries were probably ripening, so I cautiously approached the area hoping to see some birds eating them. Before the shrub came into view, I could hear the high-pitched whistling of cedar waxwings. When I slowly rounded the corner, I found about a dozen waxwings and one robin devouring the berries. Many of the berries were accessible by perching on a nearby branch, but some were just out of reach. I enjoyed watching them launch upwards, hover underneath a berry, and pluck it. I came in just the nick of time because it wasn’t long before most of them were gone.
Afterward, they moved over to a thicket of osoberries next to me and started gobbling them up. I am always amazed at the appetite songbirds have. They are so small and seem to be eating an incredible amount of food. Later on, I watched cedar waxwings sweeping back and forth across the river eating copious amounts Mayflies. It takes a lot of energy to live out there! Thankfully the arboretum has a healthy ecosystem with plenty of food to support them. I planted a couple of twinberries last year. I am looking forward to them becoming established and providing more habitat and food.
Hair-Stalk-Gall Wasp
Lately, I have been keeping an eye out for galls, and this is a good time of year to find them. Many gall wasps use the Oregon white oak as their host, so if you want to go hunting for galls, this is a great place to start. Many things in nature are small, especially insects like gall wasps. And honestly, I can’t identify any of the gall wasps themselves, mostly because they are so small and I haven’t spent much time trying to find them. That said, I am getting more into it and starting by finding the weird and wonderful galls created to house and protect these tiny insects as they begin their lives.
Recently, I found this tiny gall growing from an oak leaf and matched it with the hair-stalk-gall wasp found in Ronald Russo’s book Plant Galls of the Western United States. This gall grows along the margins of leaves and forms a smooth, pointed gall that grows from a thin stalk. In spring, the color of the gall starts from yellow to orange and turns beige by summer.
In his book, Russo writes, “These smooth galls are fully developed by April, with males and females emerging between April and June. Galls remain on host leaves until fall, even though the occupants have left. This would appear to be the bisexual generation of an as yet undescribed unisexual, summer-fall generation with its own distinct gall. Common.” Gall wasps are tricky. It appears that its summer-fall generation has not been observed or recorded. It’s fascinating that the second part of the yearly lifecycle of a common gall I can find at the arboretum, is still a mystery. There is so much to discover in our backyards!
Note: I want to go back and take better photos, which I hopefully can do this week, and update these.
Resource
Russo, Ronald A. Plant Galls of the Western United States. Princeton University Press, 2021.
Explore
Nature doesn’t reveal her secrets easily, at least that is my experience most of the time. And often, when I think I have started to figure something out, another mystery presents itself. There is a back-and-forth between noticing, observing, researching, absorbing, appreciating, revisiting, connecting, timing, and imagining. There is always more to discover. One thing is always leading to another and another, infinitely leading me down a path of wonder if I am open to it and willing to follow it. And my wonder often seems to germinate, transpire, and reveal, the more I am willing to let go of time and expectations. Hope to see you out there.
Juvenile Robin
I watched three baby chipmunks chasing each other around and curiously investigating the lush, spring landscape. One of the chipmunks scurried onto a small branch over the creek and stopped next to a sleeping juvenile robin. The robin was so still and well-camouflaged that I hadn’t noticed it. I’m always surprised by how well they blend in, especially if they are quiet and motionless. I have seen two nests of robins that had three fledglings each that have recently left the nest. From each nest, I have only seen one juvenile robin being fed. I don’t know what happened to the others, but they are not around begging and being fed.
In the photo below, one of the fledglings is being fed. Notice that the adult robin’s eye is slightly cloudy. I recently wrote about the nictitating eyelid, and you can see the adult using it to protect its eye during feeding.
Oriole Collecting Nest Material
The Bullock’s orioles have arrived at the arboretum. They are medium-distant migrants, most of them wintering in western Mexico. A few individuals may be resident in coastal southern California. On the range map, it looked like the Santa Barbara area down to San Diego.
They are starting to build their nests and often look for man-made materials such as rope fibers, baling twine, fishing lines, etc. I have seen nests next to rivers where at least fifty percent of the nest is constructed of these materials. During the setup for the wildflower festival, I saw them removing fibers from the ropes used to tie down the tent canopies. Two of the nests I have seen built this year have orange twine from the hay bales woven in.
The Peterson Field Guide to North American Bird Nests wonderfully describes the nests of orioles as: “Nests are pensile (hanging and attached only at the rim) or semipensile (with additional attachment at the sidewalls) and can be loosely separated into two categories: those that are classically pendulous and socklike, typically longer than wide with a narrow top, and those that are like a shallow, open gourd, the opening of which is often fairly wide and more broadly secured, in part due to the span of the fork or branches to which the rim is fastened. Nests of Bullock’s, Baltimore, and Altamira Orioles fall into the first category: Altamira nests are the longest of any species in N. America.”
The nests I see at the arboretum are constructed mostly of grasses and lichens with other bits of string, ribbons, twine, etc. utilized. The nests are lined with soft materials such as feathers or the cottony filament that disperses the seeds of cottonwoods and willows.
Happy birding! See you out there!
Resources
Bullock’s Oriole Range Map, All About Birds, Cornell Lab of Ornithology. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Bullocks_Oriole/maps-range. Accessed 21 May 2024.
McFarland, Casey, et al. Peterson Field Guide to North American Bird Nests. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2021.
Orange Honeysuckle
Small trumpets blare, announcing the warmth and luminosity of summer. Its harmonious tangle of vines weaves through the dappled light of the understory, splashing rays of tangerine. Its sweet scent and brightness attract its pollinators. The berries ripen red and form a cluster nestled by the terminal leaves. Daniel Mathews aptly writes, “the uppermost pair of opposite leaves modified into a single fused leaf—often shaped like a very full pair of lips—with the stem passing through the middle.” I often see chickadees eating the berries.
The vines can climb up small trees and shrubs that develop thickets of vegetation that provide a hideaway for a bird’s nest, such as a hummingbird (Blogpost 05/02/2022).