Week 15: A nature journal

May 2, 2010

Aaron and I went for a walk today. We went over to Sears Island to get away from the black flies. He’s still a newbie in Maine, and they terrorize those of us who haven’t built up or been born with the natural resistance. He can’t handle them at all. We walked along the shore towards Mack Point. I did my best to ignore the presence of the docks by keeping my eyes on the beach. Isn’t that what we do anyway when we walk along the shore? I remember those childhood years looking for beach glass, shells and treasures to put in my bucket and bring home. (Maybe this is a better bucket to fill than a list of potential regrets.) I rarely take stuff now. You can’t find beach glass like you used to, and I feel guilty taking shells and stones. Maybe I should start collecting beach plastic, although it doesn’t have the romantic feel that the beach glass does.

We both brought our binoculars and spotted gulls, eider ducks, buffleheads and mergansers. We watched three male mergansers display for a female. They bobbed their heads and fluffed open their wings. Then one swam off in front of the others, the others chasing after him, including the female who had to keep close tabs on whatever quality she was looking for. I would have opted for the third male in the row, but I’m no merganser.

Further along we spotted two ospreys overhead. They were soon out of sight behind the breakwater. Because I continued to walk with my head in the sand, Aaron was the one to spot their nest on the buoy marker. The two ospreys sat on their nest of sticks, overlooking the boat channel, maybe directing traffic, maybe just knowing that being on the buoy was safe because boats couldn’t come too near. The only other osprey nest that I have seen is high up on a power line near the Goose River. I guess they can take advantage of man’s constructions.

It is dark and I am just now coming in from outside. I heard the peepers so tried to find them. Tonight they were not afraid of my noise, and continued to call when I got very close. I got close enough to touch the sound but never saw its makers. They are great at camouflage, and very small for such a loud voice. I heard, too, the trill of the Grey Tree Frog for the first time this spring.

I then walked down to the bank overlooking the river. The water was rippling in an unusual way so with my binoculars I began searching for the disturbance. Soon I found the resident beaver doing laps around and around and around. He swam tirelessly for at least twenty minutes. I really do share “my” swimming hole. I’ve been a little angry with the beaver. He has been chewing on a huge oak tree that I cannot get my arms around. After watching its silent grace, I am ashamed to say I thought about having it trapped. I’ve cut down trees to provide warmth and indirectly for shelter. I am no different than the beaver who cuts down trees for food and shelter. Why he’s chewing on a huge oak? I don’t know, but he probably wonders why I cut down the dead pine by my house. I leave off tonight listening to the peepers and the frogs, with my cat curled up on my feet.