Meet the neighbours; Eastern Phoebe

   In previous years the spot up at the apex of the cabin under the peak of the roof and just to the left of the door (handy for us when they poop) has been occupied by Barn Swallows. Some years three or more pairs have had nests somewhere on the cabin in a single year. At least once a brood was raised among the joists under the cabin.  Eastern Phoebes have been around since we started the cabin.  They are incredibly inquisitive and always watching whatever is going on but their nest was normally under the peak at the back of the cabin. This year one pair has occupied the nest site in front. There are no Barn Swallows at the cabin this year and few at the farm.  This may be part of a widespread decline in their population. The Phoebe likes to whack its catch, often dragonflies against joists that jut out from the cabin. I did not realize how much time they spend by the water, but ours often fly from the cabin to branches sticking out of the water by the edge of the slough.  ( The Birder' Companion notes: diet occ small fish and frogs.) One evening in a steady rain I caught a tent caterpiller moth in the cabin. I opened the door and tossed it out watching it fly, beating its wings frantically, thru the rain when a Phoebe came down from the nest in a beautiful curving fall and scooped it up. 

 

    

"Now the seasons are closing their files

on each of us, the heavy drawers

full of certificates rolling back

into the tree trunks, a few old papers

flocking away."

Barn Swallow at the farm

"But it seemed to me that even if everything had been changed, I would have recognized it by the look of the sky."

from Jayber Crow: A Novel 
by Wendell Berry

""Nostalgia is a wound that we refuse time to heal," Asa once wrote"

from Dispatches from the Cradle: The Hermit—Forty-Eight Hours in the Sea of Massachusetts
by Ken Liu

My wife and I have found the early spring and early fall weather
a bit chilly here so we added a wood stove, which I have named Lincoln
Logs for no particular reason. We were able to do a lot of the
installation ourselves with the assistance of Helen's brother Ralph
in getting it into the cabin. Ralph also put the chimney up through
the red metal roof which he so lovingly installed in 2011 with Helen's
other brother Brian. The last act of our inspection was to remove a tree
that was too close to the chimney. Ralph duly arrived with his chainsaw
and home made tree jack and removed not 1 but 3 rotten poplars which
over hung the cabin. Much as I hate to remove trees, unlike the beavers that
continue to besiege us, they had to go. However this means that I will no
longer be eye to eye with the local swallows that have claimed the cabin,
while I am standing at the living room window.

For the last three years we have walked the dogs through the 

hayfield to the gate and back. Every year we see a number

of snakes on each walk. We also see a few by the cabin.

This year we have seen only a few in the hayfield and none

by the cabin. Until today, I was about to step on the deck when a 

large garter snake sailed past me it's front 4 or 5 inches erect,

it was dangling a small frog or toad in it mouth. Wow, small

as it was it encapsulated every film, documentary or story

I have ever seen or read about snakes. Quite the sight.

"Securely sunning in a forest glade, 

A mild, well-meaning snake

Approved the adaptations he had made

For safety’s sake.

He liked the skin he had—

Its mottled camouflage, its look of mail,

And was content that he had thought to add

A rattling tail."

from A Fable

by Richard Wilbur

" Fields around are yellowing into harvest

nestlings and fingerlings are sky and water borne"

from Wilderness Gothic

by Al Purdy

Some recent highlights.

The swallow chicks from the nests by the living room eaves

left the nest a couple weeks ago and were feed in the trees by 

the porch. You could really see the dominance of the larger

chicks.

Also shot for the living room window, a White-Throated Sparrow

feeds a Brown Headed Cowbird chick. The White-Throated 

Sparrow is considered a rare cowbird host according to The 

Birders Handbook by Enrlich et al.

A young coyote approaches us on our walk. The parents 

apparently stash them somewhere while they go to hunt. Like

teenagers everywhere they then unlock the door and go to the 

mall. A couple of rocks in its direction convinced it that people

and their dogs are not something to approach. 

This summer we went on four studio trails, where you drive thru 

the country and artists welcome you into their homes and studios

to share their work. It give you wonderful insight in how creative

people can be. We bought painting, pottery and quilts as well,

but we really likes these wooden items by three different artists.

I have long wanted to carve birds so I love the Wren I bought, now

I have to get busy.

Finally the local lake in the evening, my wife and her

family fished here on Sundays so it is a special place

for her.

"This is, I think,

what holiness is:

the natural world,

where every moment is full

of the passion to keep moving.

Inside every mind

there's a hermit's cave

full of light,

full of snow,

full of concentration.

I've knelt there,

and so have you,

hanging on

to what you love,

to what is lovely.

The lake's

shining sheets

don't make a ripple now,

and the stars

are going off to their blue sleep,

but the words are in place --

and the fish leaps, and leaps again

from the black plush of the poem,

that breathless space."

               from At The Lake

                by Mary Oliver

"At the hour when the swallow, close to dawn

begins to sing her melancholy lays

perhaps remembering her ancient woes,"

and when our mind, far straying from the flesh,

less tangled in the network of its thoughts,

becomes somehow prophetic in its dreams,

dreaming I seem to see hovering above,
a golden-feathered eagle in the sky,
with wings outspread, ready to swoop down:"

from Canto IX, Dante's Purgatory

translated by Mark Musa

One of the fun parts of reading Dante's Comedy is that you can

speculate, based on what ever criteria you like, which of the

countless translations are the best. So I am offering the same 

passage from two, one in poetry one in prose. The Barn Swallow was 

photographed from the living room window there are nest on either 

side of it. The branch is about 8 feet away. The window opens out and

when the window is open the swallow often perches on the top edge of

the window it's back to the room. This entertains the cat and we are just

happy we have a screen.

"At the hour, near dawn, when the swallow  begins her sad songs, 

in memory, perhaps, of her former pain, and when the mind is 

almost prophetic, more of a wanderer from the body, and less 

imprisoned by thought, I imagined I saw an eagle, in a dream, 

poised in the sky, on outspread wings, with golden plumage, 

and intent to swoop." 

from Canto IX, Dante's Purgatory

translated by Charle S. Singleton