summer solstice

Summer solstice. The last flowers of spring (arrowhead viburnum, black cherry, honeysuckle. locust) are gone and the flowers of summer are starting to arrive (Virginia and rambler roses, loosestrife, catalpa trees in full display). Bird song is much reduced. I saw my first female Common Yellowthroat of the year and both of our male Yellowthroats are now singing much more sporadically -- indicating, no doubt, that the eggs are hatched. A male Baltimore Oriole was singing and calling furiously, after a week or two of silence -- in this case, because he was trying to attack and chase a couple of sinister-looking crows; there is almost certainly an oriole nest in the area perhaps with young ready to fledge. The warm weather has also bought out the Box Turtles which have been exceptionally active. There is at least one turtle that likes to take mud baths in the pond at low tide; I have seen it -- presumably the same animal -- on several occasions. Some mornings there are up to five different Box Turtles active in widely scattered locales. Muskrats are active in the pond (our muskrats do not make lodges but burrow into the highish west bank of the pond). And cottontail rabbits have reappeared in a couple of places (due to natural cycles and/or the reversion of open meadow to woodland, the once-common rabbits have been drastically reduced in numbers). And, of course, there are inevitable squirrels and raccoons.

I forgot to mention a couple of things in yesterday's account of the Linnaean trip. One was the fact that Dune Road was mostly covered in sea fog which did not make for great visibility -- even so we counted close to 60 species (57 or 58 in my count) although relatively few individuals of each. But I also forgot to mention one exceptional and well-observed event -- observed out the car window! -- which took place in one of the muddy ditches right along side the road. A strange non-stop sound, coming from the marsh by the road, attracted our attention and caused us to pull over. Two Willets were standing in the ditch a few feet away, ignoring us completely. One was facing the other and chittering away, a continuous, mesmerizing roll-out of sound. The other Willet was looking away but standing stock still, clearly transfixed, mesmerized. Something was about to happen and happen it did. The chittering bird edged towards the other ever so slowly, carefully, and then jumped on her back (it was, at this point, clearly him and her). The act was consummated in a matter of seconds with a quick sudden twitching and aligning of rear ends. Off he jumped back into the mud as, with any luck, yet another brood of Willets began to take shape. It's late in the season but apparently not too late for those prolific Willets!

Eric Salzman