Monday, January 3, 2011

BRIGHT SUN, BRIGHT SONG


You couldn't ask for a more auspicious beginning to the annual journey! The sun is bright and the sky a clear blue on this first day of the first full week of the new year. Across the channel, the trunks of the island's big bankside sycamores gleam as if newly whitewashed. The river is up and slightly muddy with run-off from recently melted snow. Right now, the temperature stands at 21˚F, but there's no wind and it doesn't feel all that cold; predictions are we'll hit the mid-30s this afternoon.

With the snow cover of recent weeks now gone, the yard and woods on the island have reverted to a winter dress of various browns and grays, with only the odd bits of green—grass, briar, cedar, honeysuckle—showing to add any hint of color. After all that white, this landscape—even though brightly lit—seems strangely muted, almost dull. Moreover, without the sharp definition of contrast, the distant view through the trees and understory bushes is muddled.   

I count at least seven gray squirrels scampering around on the ground and clambering in the box elder by the front door. There could be twice that number, as my view through the window is limited to a narrow wedge of land between the cottage and the riverbank. Besides, virtually any number of squirrels engaged in being their usual morning-frisky selves becomes near-impossible to track and tally.

The seed feeders are doing a fair business with chickadees, goldfinches, house finches, and red-bellied woodpeckers, while cardinals and doves work the scattered cracked corn. But most of the feathered crowd appear to have eschewed my free meals for the fun of foraging their favorite thickets. I don't blame them—wild food must taste better than the same old store-bought handouts—the equivalent difference between another fast-food sandwich and good home cooking. 

Robins are working their way along the washed-up clutter of sticks and leaves and bits of bark along the river's edge. I can't actually see them feeding, as the waterline is out my view below the steep bank. But the flock is in constant, birds shuttling down and back up again from handy overhanging limbs to the narrow band of mud and sand where they're scratching out breakfast. 

As robins usually do, they're whistling while they work. In spite of the double-paned glass, their lilting, familiar notes come pouring through…the brightest of sounds on this bright January day.
——————— 

 

12 comments:

Gail said...

HI GRIZZ-

I swear, you are sitting by my back slider looking out to the woods and feeders and telling what you see. The sun here is bright, the sky a precious blue, like my Mom's eyes, the trees are sullen, with some leaves hanging on and their branches stiff and awkward - the brook is still - covered in leaves and ice and muck from the melting snow - it is a buffet of nature - the wildlife abounds - eating and frolicking and enjoying the sun. The air at 5:00 a.m. was cold and the foggy iced mist hung over the still darkened trees - I was out with Gracey-Blue very early - her sleep and ours was disturbed when the security folks from Skipp's work called to tell him a "door was open" so he had to drive to the restaurant to meet the police and 'secure' the restaurant. Good Lord - so our day started very early. I did crawl back in to bed at 6:00 and drifted off to sleep just as Skipp returned - we slept peacefully until 8:30 - it was one of those wonderful sleeps where every fiber of your being settles into the quilts and pillows and each other. Heavenly.
I hope you have a wonderful day Grizz.
Love to you always my friend.
Gail
peace.....

p.s. please say a prayer for my Mom - she is at the surgeons this morning - my Sis took her - so he can determine if her dialysis port is still good - she may require a whole 'nother procedure in the other arm - or worst case scenario, a central line above her heart (very risky). She is so brave and so fragile. I love her so.....

George said...

I didn't hear a single cough or hack in this posting, Grizz, which means that you must have recovered from you recent illness. Welcome back. The photo of the dove is magnificent, and, as always, I enjoyed getting a morning report on the state of life along your little section of the riverbank. Have a good day.

ellen abbott said...

what a delightful way to start the year.

Grizz………… said...

Gail…

My day began with less drama, but I see we've shared some of the same settings—and both appreciated them for the special gifts they gave.

I'd love to find the sort of wonderful rest you write about…it has been a long time since I've enjoy such a sleep. "Heavenly" it the word for it, though.

I'm sorry to hear about you Mom's potential problems…but I'll certainly keep her—and you—in my prayers. Don't lose hope or faith or courage; your mother hasn't, and look, it's carried her through this past yea First and foremost, take care of yourself.

Grizz………… said...

George…

Well, there were a few coughs and hacks in there, and a snuffle or two—but I've felt the best today that I've felt since the day before Christmas Eve.

Now if I can just get on a trail with my camera!

Grizz………… said...

Ellen…

I couldn't have ordered up a better First Monday, for sure. And it's supposed to be similarly nice for at least a couple more days. Wow!

Robin said...

Look at those translucent, delicate tail feathers...

Oh, the fragile things that give us warmth or offer lift.

(Thank you for visiting....).

Grizz………… said...

Robin…

I also think the tail feathers make the photo—their glowing glacier color is incredible. So lovely.

Thank you…and I enjoyed my visit.

The Weaver of Grass said...

Your robins are quite different from our robins, aren't they? But it sounds as thought their song is not all that different. The robin is one of the few birds who sing all winter here and their song is loud and clear - and very welcome. The fact that it is fiercely territorial and that they will fight to the death over a territory is neither here nor there when all we need is a bit of bird song to cheer us up.

Your description of the river bank is lovely - as usual.

Grizz………… said...

Weaver…

Sorry to be slow in getting this up—I've been out quite a bit over the past couple of days, and we've also been experience a lot of internet service difficulties throughout the area since mid-week.

You're right, our robins are not the same bird as yours, though they look remarkably alike. Yours are members of the flycatcher family while ours are thrushes. I'm not sure about the songs—but our offers a lilting, jazzy tune, full of swing and cheer.

Our robins are somewhat territorial, though it doesn't sound like they're as fiercely so as your namesake birds.

When I was a kid, most local robins went south for the winter. Their early spring return was one of the season's harbingers and a much talked about event. Nowadays, some of our local birds continue to winter elsewhere, yet a lot of them simply join up into large flocks and disappear into the thickest, brushiest cover and woodsy tangles they can find…and spend the cold months foraging. The only real problems they have is when all the ground—even in the deep underbrush—it covered beneath too much snow for successful ground scratching. Every once in a while, such as the other day, a winter flock will appear on the lawn or along the river for a few hours. When they're feeding, they often break out into snatches of song which is, indeed, most uplifting.

Appalachian Lady said...

Great photo of the dove which I don't appreciate enough. And your post reminds me of what I see outside.

Grizz………… said...

Appalachian Lady....

I sort of take the doves which feed on the cracked corn I put out for granted, too. But as the photo shows, they are really lovely, delicately beautiful. I need to pay better attention.

It is cold here, with about an inch of new snow. The river of full of icy slush.