Morning walk
Jun. 9th, 2007 11:35 amI got up early and went for a long-overdue walk up the Eramosa River, along Lilac Way, this morning. Things have changed. Apparently someone has cleaned the mud nests out from beneath Victoria Road bridge, and the bank swallows are gone.
The Turfgrass Institute has turned one of the adjacent corn fields into an expansive cottonwood plantation. What economic use are these trees? Not that it matters. I'm just curious why a research facility would cover acres of land with them rather than with pine, maple, oak or walnut. I grew up next door to a big stand of cottonwoods, and love them. I got a good look at a savannah sparrow perching and singing atop a sapling.
The old meadow bellow the cliff has filled in markedly, and the population of American redstarts has expanded. These colourful little characters are unwary. One came and landed right over my head, and if I had been able to unpack my camera quickly enough, could have taken a decent shot, but he didn't hang around. Not much was new, except a pine warbler has taken up residence in the jack pine plantation. Otherwise, there was an abundance of yellow warblers, grey catbirds and warbling vireos—nice nesting habitat. An indigo bunting flew down to the ground where, with the sun behind me, his plumage literally stopped my breath for a moment. Usually they're just little dark birds with hints of blue, singing stridently from the tops of trees.
Back up the cliff, around the abandoned apple orchard, were a bobolink, tree swallows, house wrens, an eastern meadowlark, and—for the first time in my records for the place—a pair of willow flycatchers. A brown thrasher even sang for me unexpectedly; after nesting they usually become silent.
Besides the birds (37 species altogether) there were numerous small spring butterflies about, and a few early dragonflies. Another thing I had only heard about, never seen before: earthworms mating.
I needed this reconnection with the piece of land that has brought much nurture and healing over the years.
