The trouble with flowers...

Predictably the season has changed.
The timid days of early spring, so easily subdued by a headstrong winter, are now, ROARING.

The lawn has become a carpet of violets.
I walk a weaving course--not wanting to crush their pretty faces.

Even into the gravel drive, the determined growth takes hold.



And how does one find a path through these woods?

Wild Saturday Night

Sometimes I scare myself, walking in the dark around the pond.
At night, it becomes a very different place, filled with different sounds,
illuminated only by the moon—and my flashlight.

Back in a shallow corner, the toads are trilling again. I can see their small bodies in the distance, sitting on clumps of algae—projecting their songs across the water into the night.


And, at the shoreline, a pair of steady white eyes that are caught in the beam of my light, as I scan the surface. Probably deer, unsure if they should bound into the safety of the woods--for I know they drink at this shallow, and follow the many prints they leave on these trails.

The water is already lower than I had hoped, for April. Spring rains that filled it to bursting a few weeks ago, have already found their way to a muskrat hole and emptied a foot of depth. But the edge areas are walkable now, and nighttime hides my stalking figure from what lives here.

They seem to have no fear—at least of me—as they summon others of their kind. American toads.


Or is it, that the force that has drawn them from land to this water is stronger than fear.
I dim my light, and unseen figures raise their voices, joining the appeal.


A splash...and a swirl startle me.
Probably, the muskrat, who crosses these shallows underwater, is equally alarmed--
surprised to see my large spotted boots so close to her watery front door.
Little ripples disturb the smooth surface,
as last year's bullfrog tadpoles
and small fish scurry past my toes.



In the reflected light of the full moon, I can see now that the water beside me has been interrupted -- a large mass of algae protruding above the surface. Almost as if I wasn't standing there at all, a huge snapping turtle, barely identifiable beneath her mossy shell, drifts closer--her feeding, the swirling I thought to be the muskrat.
This enormous turtle, that, in daylight, plunges beneath the surface when I approach from yards away, now, calmly searches the muck around my boot for dinner--or perhaps, intends to snag a distracted toad.


An unusual sound, muffled and throaty, draws my eyes to the opposite bank. I watch with my light as she leaves, the dry grass rustling as her small form moves away from the pond toward the oak woods.
She pauses often to look back at me as she trots off—
her glowing eyes, amber.

Animals of the night have eyes that have a mirror-like surface, the tapetum lucidum, which intensifies what little light there is available. When a flashlight or headlight of a vehicle reflects off this surface, the eyeshine of a characteristic color is sometimes seen.

Caption contest

Expecting

It seems today would perfect.
Blue skies and sunshine, the warmth and stillness of spring.
And if I turn from my yard work to see he's returned--perfect it will be, indeed.

Update :
My male Ruby-throated Hummingbird returned 3 days after this post.
April 23, 2008.

Family pictures

I like to look at families--
notice the common characteristics between individuals and the traits that define their group.
The shape of a mouth, or the sound of a voice--that immediately identifies them as family.

It amazes me how, in even the youngest, the beginnings of these features become recognizable, long before they're grown.

These embryos in the Little Pond pool are salamanders (Spotted, I think)--with the hint of a tail and gills. In less than a week, they'll hatch into larvae, like the Jeffersons already growing in my tank, and begin their lives feeding in the shallow pool where their parents left these egg masses several weeks ago.

A bluish haze almost makes them seem magical.
And the changes I observe every day, are.



The Jeffersons' gills are now tipped in bright green--collapsing against their dark bodies as they swim and flaring out in the water as they settle in to wait for dinner. They look like tiny lions waiting in the brush, golden eyes glowing--
and act the part.






The Wood frog tadpole behind him glistens with coppery flecks--bumping carelessly along through the algae, grazing here and there.
The salamander, already the solitary hunter, would rather he graze somewhere else.


Suspended and motionless, with his widely-hinged mouth--
waiting for dinner to swim past.

And sprouting brand new front legs!!

If you zoom in on this picture you can see what looks like his spine developing!
I'm such a proud momma.

Savoring spring

Spring skies that roll past overhead


have yielded beautiful blues...and greens--





You must bury
your nose in it.




Tear mouthfuls
of delightfully
tender sprouts.






And absorb the scent of warming earth.









From winter's shelter,
life springs forth into sunshine.
Lovely, delicious.

Another place at the table

Our table for four serves another purpose now.
With just 2 of us home, the ample room quickly fills with every seasonal project--from taxes to owl pellets.
And because I crave more than a passing glance at so much of what is outside my door, often, assorted "guests" are invited in--to occupy the empty space, where children sat for dinner years ago.

This spring, it's an aquarium--ten gallons of amber water borrowed from the wood pool.
Filled with tadpoles and salamander larvae--and all their dinner favorites.
There's a small bubbler in one corner that hums more than I'd like, but oxygen is important to these tiny growing guests.
The Jefferson salamander larvae have external gills--absorbing oxygen easily from the water, as they sit, motionless, hidden in algae, waiting for prey to swim past.

With a sudden GULP, a tiny daphnia or copepod is drawn in--and he waits again--the predator.



The wood frog tadpoles' gills have become internal now, as in fish, water passing through them as they swim around the pool, grazing here and there.

Little eating machines--with voracious appetites. Already, they've quadrupled in size.

Who knows how long they'll stay--but for the moment, they're dining with us.