30 September 2023 (promises)

promises to keep

a trailside flicker feather

points south

11 May 2022 (unfurling ferns)

unfurling ferns . . .

a pair of flicker feathers

flags the trail

26 January 2022 (winter sky)

winter sky

photons not pigments

blue the jay feather

4 October 2021 (feather)

early dusk

a friend mails me

a feather

15 September 2020 (feather)

first frost

a dove’s tail feather

under the feeder

March 28: Feather

careful not to step on it 

perfect pigeon feather

revealed by snowmelt 

August 24: The Little Things

>My naturalist friend Kirk is particularly fond of mushrooms, slime molds, and things in-between. His Vinalhaven Sightings Reportwhich features wildlife of all kinds seen on that Penobscot Bay island, is heavy on the fungus among us. His interest (and interesting photos) has made me take a closer look at the mushrooms around me when I walk in the woods--especially in late summer when the birds are quieter so I'm not looking up all the time.

Today while hiking off-trail on Ragged Mountain I was paying more attention to the ground in front of me just to see where I was going. I was surprised by how many mushrooms dotted the forest floor, especially a tiny, bright orange mushroom that looks like something you'd see in the garden of a gnome house. It's so cute that I've photographed it on several different occasions, including today. I thought to share my photo with Kirk, who quickly responded: "The cute little orange guys are so cute that they are the cover species on George Barron's 'Mushrooms of Northeast north America' book. They are Chanterelle Waxy Caps, which are in no way chanterelles at all. They are an adorable find, and as you already know, have a solid presence in the woods this time of year. One of my favorites to find." Now that I know what they are, I'll probably photograph them more than ever.

Chanterelle Waxy Caps

I noticed other intriguing mushrooms, including a pretty lavender one that Kirk says is from the Cortinarus genus, some turkey tails (the fungus, not the bird parts), some ruffly orange ones that might have actually been chanterelles, and a big puffy white one being eaten by a slug. The "Corts," says Kirk, have a mycorrhizal relationship with trees, which is complex enough that I'm just going to send you to Wikipedia to read about it, but basically means that the mushroom and tree mutually benefit one another.Not only did I have fun spotting all these various fungi, but I learned something too.

Besides mushrooms, I also discovered other little things: quite a few Indian pipes poking up through the leaf litter here and there, bunchberry berries, a teeny yellow flower that I haven't been able to ID (some kind of dwarf aster?), spectacular patches of reindeer lichen, deer scat, a couple of turkey tail feathers (bird parts this time, not the fungus), wide, spongy beds of sphagnum moss, and, in one place, scattered clusters of black and white feathers pointing to the demise of what was once probably a black-and-white warbler.


Trees, yes, and forest,
but also, tiny mushrooms,
berries, slugs, feathers.

July 8: Blue Jay Feather

Wandering through my back yard this afternoon, I came upon a blue jay feather in the grass, bright blue with black barring, a pretty thing. A family of blue jays lives nearby--I often see one perched on a particular branch over the back yard, and even more often, hear them. To find one of their feathers, so neat and intact, seems like a gift. Perhaps it was given in exchange for the ripe cherry tomatoes I've been lining up for the jays on a stump under their favorite tree.

The blue of a blue jay's feather is not a result of pigment, as with many colored feathers. Rather, it's caused by the way light refracts through the barbs of the feather. If you flip over a jay feather or hold it up to the light, it looks dark grey. So the blue, which so defines this brash, beautiful bird, is in a sense a mirage.

Blue sky, blue feather--
a gift given or molted?
Flight path souvenir.

July 19: Wild Kingdom

I bet if you polled a group of nature lovers / conservation professionals about my age or older, you'd find that the majority of them watched "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" as a kid. Marlin Perkins and his trusty sidekick Jim were always tracking down wily wild animals on the savannah of Africa, shooting them with tranquilizer guns, and in the process, somehow doing something beneficial for science and nature. My grandmother semi-jokingly referred to it as the "torture torture show." I was simply happy to see cool wild animals up close on the screen.

The thing about watching nature shows like that is that you get the impression wild animals are lurking around every corner, just waiting to be chased and tranquilized, or at least observed through binoculars. When you get out into the woods on your own, however, you realize that most days seeing a red squirrel or the hind end of a deer might be about as exciting as it gets.

Today my director and I were walking a property with some donors--one of those situations when you want a place to be at its best. While we weren't so lucky as to have a bull moose walk through the field or a bald eagle soar past, Mother Nature didn't completely let us down. A red-tailed hawk circled overhead, then called dramatically. At our feet, we found two ruddy turkey feathers. Further along the trail, we came across turkey tracks in what was once mud, and then, the crescents of deer prints. And to crown the moment, a hermit thrush's lilting song rose from the trees. Nothing extraordinary, but the value of the place as wildlife habitat was validated. The donors were delighted; the animals had done their jobs well, even though the hawk was the only one we actually saw.

Deer tracks in the mud
and two feathers, patterned fans
telling wild stories.

December 23: Flicker Feather

I confess that when I'm walking around in the great outdoors, if I find a cool feather I will sometimes pocket it. Technically this is illegal. According to the Migratory Bird Treaty Act: "Unless and except as permitted by regulations, …it shall be unlawful at any time, by any means, or in any manner…to pursue, hunt, take, capture, kill, …possess, offer for sale, sell, …purchase, import…any migratory bird, any part, nest, or eggs of any such bird…"


That said, however, I've got a small feather from a northern flicker sitting in a little vase on my desk. It's a miniature work of art--about five inches long, dark brown vanes with white edging on the wider side, and a bright yellow shaft with a white quill. Sharpened, it might make a good pen for a gnome. The underside has a yellow sheen. Here in the east, our flickers are of the yellow-shafted subspecies. When a flicker flaps past, that yellow underside is obvious. Out west, you see the red-shafted subspecies. Same basic bird, but the underwing shines pinkish-red when it dips past. They both have the characteristic white rump spots--usually the diagnostic marking that gets noticed as the bird dives into tree cover. 


Maybe because grey tones seem dominant right now, today I've been especially noticing my feather. The hints of spots on its edges are like parts of a Rorschach ink blot test. What do they make me think of? The sharp piercing cry of the flicker as it calls from the trees outside my window in spring... the squadrons of migrating flickers I see on Monhegan each fall... the subtle beauty of this woodpecker as it pecks for ants on my mother's lawn... And the yellow shaft is a really deep gold, almost like an egg yolk or a summer sun. A little bit of brightness next to my books and file folders.


In the spring I'll probably release it to the wind, atone for my law-breaking. But for now, my eyes need it here. 


Small flicker feather
picked up in last summer's woods,
shaft a slice of sun.