What
better place than the open countryside to spend one of our last few autumn days,
before the chill winds begin to bite?
We
began with an outdoor lunch. Only a few feet away, several little Black CappedChickadees swept and dove and chirped around a feeder brimming with seeds. It’s
been awhile. Usually, the chickadees retreat a bit when the spring and summer
birds appear. But the migrators are mostly gone, now. In the summer, the nearby
lake is a wild and heavenly cacophony of honks, quacks and loud splashes, and
the surface is speckled with every species of waterfowl imaginable. But on the
day of our visit, the lake is still and quiet. Only a single, small flock of
geese bobbed by and a handful of ducks were startled out of the reeds when we
get too close.
The
trees also sit devoid of finches, robins, blackbirds and all other harbingers
of warm weather. So now the chickadees are free to play. And they were taking
full advantage of their renewed liberty.
But
they weren’t the only ones. As I watched them play and flitter in the nearby
grove they were joined by a White Breasted Nuthatch, and beautiful white and grey-blue bird
of delicate features. It looks like it should be made of porcelain.
Then,
with a gentle thud, another, larger bird landed on the railing right next to
me.
A
Hairy Woodpecker! This bird is a rare sight! To see one was enough of a treat,
but to see it this close up!
I
watched, fascinated, as it stood there for several minutes nibbling from the
suet feeder. I studied the dark wings with their bright white speckles, the
shocking splash of red on the crown of the head, and the long, slender sharp
beak that chomped at a rapid pace as it gobbled up the food. It would have been
a bit more than a handful and looked very soft.
The Hairy Woodpecker enjoys the suet feeder.
Some
of us decided to go for a walk and enjoy the country while we could. As we
headed down the gravel road, a large raven flew overhead. When he was directly
over me, I could very clearly hear the “Whoomp! Whoomp! Whoomp!” of his powerful
wings with every down flap. I thought he looked down at me for a moment.
We
strolled down to the end of a dock that stretched out into the water. It was
surrounded by burst bulrushes. Far among the reeds, in the water, I was sure I
saw a pile of sticks, like a small beaver lodge.
“Hey,”
I said to my companion, “Is that - - “
I
stopped as I thought I heard a splash. I listened, but all was quiet.
I
pointed again to the little structure.
“I
think that’s –“
I
jumped as a loud splash seemed to sound right under my feet.
Again,
silence.
“Do
you think – “
Another
loud splash. Now I was sure of what I was hearing. I went to the end of the
dock and studied the water carefully.
Suddenly
I saw the ripples in the water, and at the head, a wee, soggy, brown animal.
“Look!”
I whispered, “Look! The muskrat!”
I
lifted my camera but my movement must have startled him. With a sudden,
back-arching belly-flop, he dived noisily into the water and vanished. But I
needn’t have worried. The muskrat were out in force that night and I did get
some good shots. The last time I saw one of them, he was gliding out toward
that pile of sticks in the water.
Imagine,
here I was admiring his little house the creature himself was swimming right
underfoot!
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