Book of Days
BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY
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Filtering by Tag: black-throated green warbler
Posted with BlogsyMay 23: Downtown bird
Kristen Lindquist
Walking to my car in downtown Camden tonight after enjoying pizza with friends, I was a little surprised to hear a Black-throated Green Warbler singing his buzzy song in the handful of trees in the tiny Village Green.
Over traffic hum,
over the spatter of rain--
one warbler singing.
Over traffic hum,
over the spatter of rain--
one warbler singing.
June 3: Rain in the spruce forest
Kristen Lindquist
This morning I and others led a bird walk for the Acadia Birding Festival on Acadia National Park's Ship Harbor Nature Trail as the rain fell and the tide came in. We could hear waves crashing from beyond the wall of spruce trees, and in the treetops, the tinkling notes of the kinglet's song. Small rafts of eiders rode the swells into the harbor, unbothered by rain, shielded by waterproof feathers. From amid the misty tangle of trees, a white-throated sparrow sang loud and clear. Wet sweet fern, crushed by fingers, seemed particularly pungent. Mosses burgeoned, green sponges massed over the forest floor. Water had formed a small pool at the root base of a fallen spruce, creating a wet cave--what might hide in there? Walking the rain-softened trail, our footsteps were dampened, allowing us to hear well the repeated song of the black-throated green warbler. In the dim light, half-concealed amid wet leaves, the warbler's yellow face shone like a tiny sun.
Raindrops on flat leaves
are easily mistaken
for movements of birds.
Raindrops on flat leaves
are easily mistaken
for movements of birds.
May 12: Sap sippers
Kristen Lindquist
I visited the Ducktrap River Preserve early and spent several hours exploring and watching/listening for birds. The hemlock-shaded uplands resonated with bird song: Blackburnian, black-throated blue, and black-throated green warblers, ovenbirds, pine siskins, kinglets, and blue-headed vireos made their presence known, while down the bluff, the river rushed ever on. For a long time I sat in a patch of sun on an old fallen log and just let the music of it all tumble through the warm air around me.
The sunshine seemed to have awakened quite a few butterflies, as well, of few of which I could even recognize: red admiral, comma, and question mark. I was particularly interested to note several butterflies, mostly question marks, fluttering around a stand of birch trees. Looking closely, I could see where a yellow-bellied sapsucker--a local species of woodpecker--had drilled a few small "wells" in the trunks. The butterflies were gathering on these wells, sipping birch sap. At one, a butterfly seemed to be vying with a corps of largish red and black ants for the sap. These butterflies wintered over and now renew their energy with this sap thanks to the sapsucker. The sapsucker's only thought, of course, was for itself, but it also benefited the insects without even realizing. Ah, the workings of Nature...
Sipping spring birch sap,
ethereal butterflies--
even they must eat.
The sunshine seemed to have awakened quite a few butterflies, as well, of few of which I could even recognize: red admiral, comma, and question mark. I was particularly interested to note several butterflies, mostly question marks, fluttering around a stand of birch trees. Looking closely, I could see where a yellow-bellied sapsucker--a local species of woodpecker--had drilled a few small "wells" in the trunks. The butterflies were gathering on these wells, sipping birch sap. At one, a butterfly seemed to be vying with a corps of largish red and black ants for the sap. These butterflies wintered over and now renew their energy with this sap thanks to the sapsucker. The sapsucker's only thought, of course, was for itself, but it also benefited the insects without even realizing. Ah, the workings of Nature...
Sipping spring birch sap,
ethereal butterflies--
even they must eat.
 |
| Question Mark |
July 18: Summer Songs
Kristen Lindquist
My husband and I went for a long hike today on Mount Megunticook in Camden Hills State Park. We wanted to get outside together on this beautiful day, get some exercise, and enjoy the views from on high, but we were surprised by how many birds were singing in the shady mixed forest through which winds the Ridge and Jack Williams Trails. We started off at the Maiden's Cliff trailhead, and as we began the climb up to the ridge line, heard what I thought was a scarlet tanager. Because he wasn't singing his full song, it wasn't till we had completed the entire hike and returned miles later to that same place when we confirmed that it was indeed a tanager (he finally gave his characteristic "chick burr" call) and then we were even able to find the vivid red bird gleaning bugs among the oak leaves overhead.
My favorite birdsong in these summer woods is that of the hermit thrush: angelic notes tumbling down from the trees, clear and haunting in the lush forest air. We passed several singing thrushes, to our delight, as well as another Maine forest favorite, a winter wren, whose lovely, complex song goes on and on, seemingly rising out of the trees themselves.
Although we expected to hear black-throated green warblers, which seem to sing all summer, we were surprised to hear several black-throated blue warblers and a Blackburnian warbler. When I commented on how unusual that seemed, my husband suggested that that's what I should write about for today's haiku. Ever the dutiful wife, I did so:
On the mountainside,
height of day, height of summer:
warbler still singing.
My favorite birdsong in these summer woods is that of the hermit thrush: angelic notes tumbling down from the trees, clear and haunting in the lush forest air. We passed several singing thrushes, to our delight, as well as another Maine forest favorite, a winter wren, whose lovely, complex song goes on and on, seemingly rising out of the trees themselves.
Although we expected to hear black-throated green warblers, which seem to sing all summer, we were surprised to hear several black-throated blue warblers and a Blackburnian warbler. When I commented on how unusual that seemed, my husband suggested that that's what I should write about for today's haiku. Ever the dutiful wife, I did so:
On the mountainside,
height of day, height of summer:
warbler still singing.
May 10: Appetizer
Kristen Lindquist
Thanks to being completely slammed by pollen allergies this spring, I've had a slow start with my birding season. As we head into the peak of spring migration and birders are seeing more than a dozen warblers an outing, my high point to date has been the ten minutes before work this morning. During a brief tour of my back yard, I enjoyed a little bird sampler of things to come: a great blue heron sailed through and landed in the river, five different warblers sang amid the leaves, a male downy woodpecker flew into a tree right next to me, and goldfinches mewed from the birch tree in the driveway.
Given that the air was a raw 40 degrees and I was running late to work, I wasn't intending to devote any time to birding this morning. But as I was getting ready to leave, I could hear the song of a redstart out back. I had to heed the call. So I grabbed my binocs just to get a quick look at this striking black and red little bird. Before I could successfully locate him, a parula sang, then a black-throated green warbler and a black-and-white warbler. I thought I had him in my neighbor's oak tree, but that bird turned out to be a Nashville warbler. Finally I picked him out in a nearby arborvitae. I'm sure there were other warblers back there, too, but alas, duty called.
Happy to have experienced that old thrill of a birding a warbler wave, small as it was, I left for work regretful that I didn't have more time to bird. As I walked into the office, I heard my first great-crested flycatcher of the season calling down by the river. This good start to my work day whetted my appetite for what I hope will become a gourmet banquet of birds in the month ahead.
Redstart sang to me
of sunny, bird-filled mornings,
fanned his pretty tail.
Given that the air was a raw 40 degrees and I was running late to work, I wasn't intending to devote any time to birding this morning. But as I was getting ready to leave, I could hear the song of a redstart out back. I had to heed the call. So I grabbed my binocs just to get a quick look at this striking black and red little bird. Before I could successfully locate him, a parula sang, then a black-throated green warbler and a black-and-white warbler. I thought I had him in my neighbor's oak tree, but that bird turned out to be a Nashville warbler. Finally I picked him out in a nearby arborvitae. I'm sure there were other warblers back there, too, but alas, duty called.
Happy to have experienced that old thrill of a birding a warbler wave, small as it was, I left for work regretful that I didn't have more time to bird. As I walked into the office, I heard my first great-crested flycatcher of the season calling down by the river. This good start to my work day whetted my appetite for what I hope will become a gourmet banquet of birds in the month ahead.
Redstart sang to me
of sunny, bird-filled mornings,
fanned his pretty tail.
Photo courtesy of Wikipedia Commons
May 8: Black-throated Green Warbler
Kristen Lindquist
This morning my husband came in from fishing on the river behind our house to report that not only had he caught an auspicious seven trout, but he had also heard his first black-throated green warbler of the season. These portents put him in good spirits, because, as he puts it, today is the second biggest day of his life after our wedding day: this afternoon sees the launching of his first novel at a book party being held for him at the home of a best-selling novelist here in Camden.
But I'll leave the topic of his novel's publication for his blog. In addition to being excited for him today, I was happy to hear about the black-throated green warbler. And even happier when about an hour later I heard its languorous, buzzy song from within the shining green cave of leaves and lawn that has become our back yard: "Zee zee zoo zee."
I love to teach people the song of the black-throated green warbler, because it's easy to learn and during the spring and summer the birds are commonly heard around here. Also, for those who don't realize it's a common bird, its name sounds very exotic. The warbler is eye-catching, as well, though small enough that you have to do a bit of looking. You won't recognize it as a visitor to your backyard feeder. Its bright yellow face is framed at the neck by a black throat that contrasts strikingly with its white underparts.
The BT green sings long and loudly throughout the day, well into the summer. The variant of its song heard via the link above is often transcribed as, "Trees, trees, murmuring trees." For me, that song conveys the essence of walking in the local woods on a summer day amid the murmuring trees, an image I embrace on this rainy spring morning.
On this rainy day
warbler sings, "Zee zee zoo zee"--
promise of summer.
But I'll leave the topic of his novel's publication for his blog. In addition to being excited for him today, I was happy to hear about the black-throated green warbler. And even happier when about an hour later I heard its languorous, buzzy song from within the shining green cave of leaves and lawn that has become our back yard: "Zee zee zoo zee."
I love to teach people the song of the black-throated green warbler, because it's easy to learn and during the spring and summer the birds are commonly heard around here. Also, for those who don't realize it's a common bird, its name sounds very exotic. The warbler is eye-catching, as well, though small enough that you have to do a bit of looking. You won't recognize it as a visitor to your backyard feeder. Its bright yellow face is framed at the neck by a black throat that contrasts strikingly with its white underparts.
Photo by John Harrison
The BT green sings long and loudly throughout the day, well into the summer. The variant of its song heard via the link above is often transcribed as, "Trees, trees, murmuring trees." For me, that song conveys the essence of walking in the local woods on a summer day amid the murmuring trees, an image I embrace on this rainy spring morning.
On this rainy day
warbler sings, "Zee zee zoo zee"--
promise of summer.