In just the last week or two, new life has exploded in the Northwoods. To my brain, it feels like a burst of fireworks. Instead of embers sparkling in the darkness, there’s been a surge of colorful blossoms, an eruption of vibrant baby leaves, a cacophony of birdsong, and a buzz of movement everywhere I look.
Just outside my backdoor, the eastern phoebe has been shouting his own name. Underneath my old canoe, his mate constructed a mossy nest, one mouthful at a time. Every evening she swoops in to perch on the edge of the nest, then lowers her belly into the perfectly shaped cup. She does a happy little wiggle, tweaks the nest a bit with her bill, and then goes so still that the trail camera doesn’t record her again until morning when she leaves to feed. I double checked before heading to work: three eggs.
As I waited for participants in the Chequamegon Bay Birding and Nature Festival to arrive at Lake Owen for the first Loon Pontoon Tour of the year, I watched the trees at the boat landing. Flashing black and pale orange feathers revealed a female American redstart flycatching in the sunlight. An ovenbird shouted his Teacher, TEAcher, TEA-CHER! from somewhere in the woods. A quiet squawk revealed that a female yellow-bellied sapsucker had landed not 20 feet away on the trunk of a spruce tree. And, as I walked up the hill to the outhouse, my first-of-the-year red-eyed vireo asked for attention, repeating “here I am, in the tree, look at me, vir-e-o!” incessantly.
It was chilly on the lake, but enduring the cold breeze was worth it, especially when we spotted a loon on her nest. Like the phoebe, she picked at vegetation with her beak and futzed with the nest construction. Her brief, upright posture revealed the dark shape of an egg before she nestled back down. Her mate watched and dove from the deep part of the bay.
We searched the steep, sandy shorelines of Lake Owen for more loons, and found just one more nest on an artificial floating platform in a protected bay. Nearby a bald eagle sunned themself on a piney point. Did the giant nest behind that eagle hold their mate and eggs or chicks? We’ll find out in a few weeks!
Boating close to the shoreline provided more rewards. Golden marsh marigolds peeked out from the alder shrubs. The glossy green heads of male mallards glinted in the shallows. Earlier this spring all the mallards I saw were in pairs. Now, hopefully, the females are tucked away on nests.
The white shapes of two trumpeter swans stirred excitement in Lucy. A high school student on a birthday trip with her dad, Lucy is an avid birder, and these graceful birds were new additions for her life list. Would they nest here? I’ve never seen cygnets on Lake Owen before, but as trumpeter swans increase in number, they may need to find nest sites in new places.
Lucy’s sharp eyes also caught the glint of a turtle’s shell as they sunned on a half-submerged log. Focusing in with binoculars, she correctly identified them as a painted turtle. Still cold from hibernation, these reptiles need to warm up their bodies before they can digest food, develop eggs, and proceed with reproduction. The UV rays also kill fungi, bacteria, and other parasites on the shell’s surface. Once we were looking, we spotted turtles on almost every log.
Back at the Museum, I found a newborn fawn just curled up on our lawn. The fawn’s best defenses are to be small, well-camouflaged, and almost scent-free. Big, fragrant Mom hanging around would be easier for predators to detect, and this is dangerous for the fawn before they are strong enough to run. In past years, the doe has hidden her fawns in the line of cedars on the edge of our outdoor classroom. Those were removed recently to make way for the new library building. Apparently, Mom didn’t have time to make a new plan. The fawn did, though, and they found shelter in a corner of the library’s new entryway.
By the end of this vibrant spring day I was content to curl up like the fawn and the phoebe and fall asleep to the sweet song of a hermit thrush.
Emily’s third book, Natural Connections3: A Web Endlessly Woven, is available to purchase at www.cablemuseum.org/books and at your local independent bookstore, too.
For more than 50 years, the Cable Natural History Museum has served to connect you to the Northwoods. Our Summer Calendar is open for registration! The Museum’s new exhibit, The Wetland Way is now open! Discover how life thrives at the intersection of soil and water, and why we must care for these special places as they care for us. Follow us on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and cablemuseum.org to see what we are up to.
No comments:
Post a Comment