I have had a number of readers stop to ask me what became of that pair of lovebirds and their nest that I featured in What The Hay? This got me to thinking that there are a number of starts and stops and even a few ongoing tales (or is it tails?) that could use a bit of feather dusting. Though on the surface, this compilation of, "and then what happened" stories may seem to be quite disheartening, I assure you that I remain quite optimistic with the exception of course, of those blasted squirrels and chipmunks!
Since I have already mentioned those crazy, lovestruck, and yes disastrous nest building Robins, I shall begin there. It wasn't too many days after I posted about them that they took great offense and abandoned their project altogether. I decided that since they had no further use for their hay collection, that I would repurpose it as mulch for a new planting. They had the last laugh of this I am sure, as I suffered multiple jabs by rose thorns while deconstructing their Taj Mahal.
If you will remember, I found a bit of solace in the entire sorted affair with the discovery of a sensible nesting of a pair of Eastern Phoebes. Upon closer inspection however, I discovered a pair of Brown Headed Cowbird eggs deposited inside. After writing about this odd brood, I decided to follow their journey allowing nature to determine the families fate.
I apologize for my less than perfect pictures, but the quarters were tight and I was attempting to disturb the family as little as possible.
There was with some jubilation on my part, a deviation from the notion that cowbird chicks hatch prior the rest of the clutch. The first to hatch was a phoebe, so perhaps once the cowbird chicks hatched, this little phoebe would be larger and so able to successfully compete for resources. I am certain that this chick is a phoebe not because I am some sort of a bird whisperer; but because in another photograph I could plainly see that both of the speckled eggs were still intact.
My next check of the nest revealed that there was a second chick .
What you are seeing here, are the remains of the phoebe's nest. I'm not exactly sure when the nest was raided; but all of the eggs and chicks were taken. Helen thought that given the location of the nest, it was most likely a squirrel that dashed my hopes and dreams of a fairytale ending.
It's Monday June 21st and Saturday's Tree dropped from its branches, an empty nest made from pine needles. We don't have any pine trees in our yard. None the less, I picked it up and placed it in the tree's branches if for no other reason than to admire the nest in its builder's chosen place.
Wayne and I continue to make it a point to go fishing partially in hopes of creating a better fish story ending to Sundays Are For Fishing than my falling into Jacks Brook! We did some more scouting at the Vernon fish ladder and then cast our lines below the dam.
We found that even in the middle of June, adult Lamprey are still living in the Connecticut River.
Wayne caught two Walleye that day one of which appeared to be blind. Both were released back into the river.
That evening, Wayne did some thinking and decided to try once again to salvage the red Old Town canoe that we had lost last summer to the river when, Our Lifejackets Saved Us. I tore my bicep muscle on that adventure and so still think about that day with every physical therapy session. Perhaps it was time to let the boat go as our four children are now grown and it really is too big for the two of us.
Wayne picked up a used Kayak at a yard sale. This was to be his first time on the Connecticut river since last August. Our friends on Stebbins Rd had sent us a photograph of our canoe early in the spring. It had since been pushed up into the branches of the downed cottonwood off of Stebbins Island.
I remained ashore fishing until Wayne returned an hour later without our canoe.
What else is there left untold? Oh, I know the rodents and turtles! Woven throughout my blogs are stories of my determination to plant and grow trees from seed and how this is a constant battle between my goals and those of the hungry bellies of rodents...especially squirrel bellies. I am often asking Wayne while out and about, why it is that nobody ever just gives me a free puppy. It's a tease of course as with two dogs already taking up residence on the couch, Wayne isn't likely agree to pull over for a free puppy. Some would argue that it's the same for me and trees; but truth be told, Wayne isn't going to argue with what feeds my soul.
One day, while occupying my head with dreams of hitting the lottery, I checked out my local social media Buy Nothing group only to discover that Emily was offering up dozens of free bareroot Shagbark Hickory trees! Talk about hitting the jackpot! In the end I could only justify three saplings to Wayne who braved the question of how many 120 foot tall nut bearing trees did we require. Perhaps Wayne never read Autumn Nuts Like Me? My excitement only grew when Emily placed in my hands a pedigree of sorts that explained that my babies were part of the Rewild Vermont / 350 Vermont campaign aimed at, "Growing Food, Absorbing Carbon, Nurturing Justice." Emily made certain that I understood what adopting bareroot trees entailed before wishing us luck and telling us to give them plenty of water.
I think that you can see where this is headed. The next morning I grabbed my watering can only to discover that two out of the three saplings were missing their leaf buds. As of this writing, one is gone altogether, one has sent up an alternate shoot, and the third looks a lot like it did the day I planted it.
Have I told you about my American Filbert (Hazelnut) tree project? Perhaps a fourth tree will be the charm?
Last but not least, there was a popular blog post, that in passing I mentioned a certain kind of turtle found here in Vernon. This post In Search of Mudpuppies created quite the frenzy with the state Herpetologist who, through numerous back and forth emails "requested" that I redact previously published information from state and local news articles and websites. I decided after that encounter, I should focus my energy on the more common varieties of Testudines. Every year Wayne and I scout out the snapper nests at a certain location and I was certain that this was going to be the year that we either witnessed a snapper laying eggs or we would find newly hatched turtles.
I should like to tell you, that even with all of these seemingly less than ideal culminations of past blogs, I have not yet begun to be discouraged. Why? Because once I removed the cockamamie Robin's nest from the rose bush it began to bloom.
On the day that I found the raided Phoebe's nest, I discovered a Robin's nest in my lilac bush.
Though Henry is actually the pond mascot somewhere in Guilford,
Though Wayne's kayak sprung a leak on it's recovery voyage, though there are six squirrels currently dining on maple seeds in my backyard, and though sometimes nature seems particularly cruel,
I know that I am going to keep pushing through my failed attempts at adventuring. I will keep planting trees until something survives. I will suffer disappointments when my plans deviate from nature's; but that's just nature teaching me acceptance or persistence (I haven't yet decided which it is). The milkweed is in bloom and Mary told me that there is a way to get to where Jacks Brook empties into the river. I plan on going fishing there on Sunday.
Oh, and how could I forget, Lilly Pond is recovering nicely from the drought that I wrote about in Paying Attention To The Long Timers and that's enough reason for optimism right there
-Norma Manning
