He comes at evening, haltingly, tentatively, yet knowing the journey is worth the effort. Foraging is good beneath the feeders, but a turkey venturing into human territory must be wary. The hummingbirds are a study in contrast. Bold, daring, hardly hesitating in their approach, the ruby-throats are filling up at flowers and feeders before their own long journey south. Soon their little tummies will protrude and they will be gone.
It is seldom silent now. Snowy tree crickets, cone-head, bush and true katydids (plus others I do not know) fill the air with sound from dawn to dawn, different species singing at different times of day and night. Of the birds, goldfinches are the most vocal. Recently fledged young beg incessantly, like the tinkling of tiny bells, from the sweet gum trees across the road. A few half-hearted calls from white-eyed vireos, Acadian flycatchers and eastern wood peewees punctuate the ever present residents' chorus. Chickadees chattering, titmice scolding, white-breasted nuthatches honking and cardinals chipping keep me company through the day.
Canada geese are feeding restlessly, leading their almost grown babies from field to field along the river. Soon the northern migrants will arrive, swelling the pressure on the recently harvested hay fields and farmers will begin estimating how many days of winter grazing will be lost.
Like moments of the water's stillness between the tide's going out and coming in, time feels like it has slowed down, almost to a stop during this transition time from late summer into autumn. Golden days invite me to rest into the rhythm of the earth, to witness the changes that provide for the life of the creatures around me, as they prepare for leaner days ahead.
Such a gift, to know something of the world around me, to be watchful and listening, attuned to the echoes of Creation...the gift of belonging.
No comments:
Post a Comment