Later, on my way out of the kitchen, pink mug now full of coffee, I hear a Baltimore oriole warbling, hidden in the tree canopy around these densely-packed buildings - new to this neighborhood as well, this season. I wonder if I'll soon see a dangling nest by the pond here and hear orioles on my weekly jaunts 'round the water.

May 8 - Canton (Carly Rocklen) Baltimore orioles are back! High in the maple trees alongside the path, their new voices are exuberant and loud. I gaze upwards, seeking them out, and find one within the bright green new leaves, on a slender perch - black head and luminescent orange body.

May 4 - Jamaica Pond, Jamaica Plain (Carly Rocklen) It was almost dusk, and a pair of Canada geese stood silently on the shore of the pond, black and white necks stretched vertically toward the sky. Positioned down a steep incline, next to the water's edge and beneath a canopy of trees, they were guarding their three babies. The downy, yellow chicks rustled about in the leaves, poking around with their beaks, exploring the groundcover. It's remarkable how much the babies will change in appearance as they develop! Eventually, the adults slipped into the water and the babies popped in after them, following in a little, yellow, downy line. 

April 30 - Charles River, Dedham (Carly Rocklen) Early for an appointment, about mid-day, I parked my car in the parking lot and wandered down a grassy slope to the river that flows past the medical campus. I stood by the edge of the Charles River for a while and eventually got comfortable on a rock, looking out over the water and the marshy island. 

     For a while there was silence from the animal world - only the roar of motor vehicles from I-95/I-128, which crosses the Charles River about 1/4-mile downstream. I thought to myself that the noise must have cut down on the wildlife activity here ever since the highway had been built. - Animals probably can't hear each other, their prey, or  potential predators. So, perhaps they've found other places to spend their time.

     After a while, I started to sense local wildlife. At first I heard and then caught sight of a Red-winged blackbird sitting in a riverside tree. Then I noticed a couple of Common grackles flying around between branches on the opposite side of the water. Soon a Flicker bolted through the air, headed to a perch upstream. I could clearly see the white flash of color at its tail, despite the bird being relatively far away. American goldfinches called out downstream. 

     Finally, there was significant movement. I turned to see a Great blue heron approaching silently in the water, about 25 yards upstream. It exaggeratedly lifted one long black and yellow leg out of the water at a time - slowly, and then remarkably slowly and smoothly (no splash) placed it back in the water as it crept toward the marsh. It was like a kid imitating slow motion. Certainly it was attempting to sneak up on underwater prey. 

     This heron was crouched further down toward the water than I'd ever seen before; the bottom of its feathered torso almost touched the surface. Suddenly the bird stopped moving forward and straightened up, its head and neck extended as straight as a rod, very tall now. I figured it'd caught me watching it. Then I thought I shouldn't be so self-important as to think it was behaving this way solely because of me. In any case, I remained very still. The wind ruffled the bird's long feathers at the base of its neck. Eventually the heron started searching for prey again, swinging its head slowly from side to side, peering into the water, crouching. At some point I looked away downstream, and when I turned back to look at the heron again it had taken off. I could see its giant wings slowly batting the air, raising its body up from the bend in the river. It turned in mid-air to fly further downstream and resume hunting elsewhere.

April 28 - Ponkapoag Pond, Canton (Carly Rocklen)  At dusk, around the wooded trail ringing the Pond, a light rain fell. All around was the calm hissing of rain hitting the lake water. Raindrops fell on my raincoat and hit the brim of my baseball cap. My feet deliciously sank into the muddy path. Out on the pond and beyond my sightline, Canada geese honked. Red-winged blackbirds called from tree perches within the marsh. American robins whinnied nearby. Ground-hugging colonies of small Wood anemone plants bloomed, their white, delicate flowers partly closed and hanging toward the forest floor. Solitary Sessile bellwort plants were visible in the midst of anemone clusters. Solomon's seal leaves slowly unfurled. A Marsh marigold bloomed next to a rock in a little creek running by the side of the walking path (it looks like a hardy aquatic buttercup). The green hoods of Jack in the pulpits were visible beneath the shrubs of the forest understory. Meanwhile, maple trees, Burning bush (Winged wahoo), Witch-hazel, Highbush blueberry, Garlic mustard and viburnum were beginning to leaf out. 

April 26 - Bird Street Conservation Land, Stoughton (Carly Rocklen)  During the Stoughton Earth Day Fair, while a live-animals educational presentation was taking place and the animal-handler was walking a Turkey vulture around to audience members, a Blue jay was hopping within the woods bordering the field, calling out just like a bird of prey. Blue jays are talented mimics - and this individual definitely had me convinced! I was searching the treeline and the sky for a hawk. 

     Earlier in the afternoon, when the animal-handler had taken a Red-tailed hawk from its box and was introducing the bird to the audience, I noticed that circling overhead - far overhead, way high up, just a spot of white with red-orange tail - was a wild Red-tailed hawk, holding almost still in the air currents, looking over the landscape, occasionally flapping its broad, pale wings.

April 23 - Blue Hills Reservation, Milton (Carly Rocklen)  Up past the Trailside Museum on the Wolcott Path at 6PM on a sunny, warm day, the woods were like a ghost town. Desolate. Still. Quiet. I thought of Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring." I was poking around for an hour and a half and I heard and saw very little. Only a Pine warbler trilled every once in a while (invisible in the tree canopy), a woodpecker tapped (again, usually unseen), and the wind moaned through the White pines. A frog chorus occasionally started up and stopped, emanating from a hidden pond. I saw one White-tailed deer, or I should say we saw each other, in a field. The deer was nibbling at the grasses. Some of the wildflowers were beginning to sprout - Canada mayflower leaves and fiddleheads poked up through the fallen leaves on the forest floor, and Trout lilies were blooming along the stream by the parking lot. Other than that, though, there was mostly silence and a tall greyness all around. - I perceived the woods in this fashion probably partly because I've been walking by Ponkapoag Pond for the last month, which is a totally different story. The Red-winged blackbirds and Common grackles are going nuts in the woods by the marsh (loud, flashy) there, American robins have taken over the golf course in droves, and Canada geese are loud as anything on the pond itself. Then of course there are the squirrels running along the forest floor, the American goldfinches singing from above, the Blue jays squawking as they fly between the tree trunks, and the various woodpeckers hammering at trees and swooping through the canopy.

April 22 - Ponkapoag Pond, Canton (Carly Rocklen)  Squinting through a pair of binoculars, I could see that some of the bog plants are blooming - probably the Leatherleaf - a woody plant with little, durable leaves, and flowers like those on Japanese pieris or blueberry (small, white, dangling and bell-like). It was thrilling to see the bog finally greening up and flowering. 

     The leaves of Wild geranium have appeared by streams. Delicate Sessile bellwort plants are pushing up from the soil and unfurling leaves. Even a few are flowering. A blanket of Mayflower leaves is poking up all over the forest floor. Fuzzy fern fronds are beginning to unfurl. Spicebush shrubs have what look like fluorescent green-yellow pompoms up and down their slender gray branches. 

     I heard a few frogs peep from inside the marsh. Grackles and Red-winged blackbirds flew every which way along the shore of the lake, calling out! A few White-breasted nuthatches hopped up and down tree trunks and swooped out to neighboring trees. A Chipping sparrow twittered by a sandpit in the golf course. 

     Because of another sighting this afternoon, I finally saw the difference between a Hairy and Downy woodpecker! I watched a Hairy woodpecker for a while. Later I caught sight of a Red-bellied woodpecker; this took the cake! This species is loud, brightly colored and pretty big. Another remarkable sighting today was a Great blue heron standing still in the marsh, on the edge of the bog. As soon as I lifted my binoculars to get a better look, it took off to land further away on top of a short, squat spruce tree deeper within the bog. It perched there for a while, looking slowly at its surroundings and resembling a stork or a even a dinosaur. Later the heron took off to land in open water, where it stalked the depths for a while, searching for a meal. An American goldfinch in a maple tree appeared tiny and melodic, singing softly. Tufted titmice bopped about between branches. A pair of Black-capped chickadees hopped right-side-up and upside-down in little shrubs by the edge of the water. American robins wandered all over the golf course and throughout the underbrush of the woods....

April 21 - Neponset River, Lower Mills (Tom Palmer)  Here is how the river looked as it plunged into the harbor at low tide behind 2 Adams St., Milton, at sundown last night. According to the stream gauge just above Baker Dam, it was flowing at about 80 cubic feet/second, a new minimum (for April 21) and well below the long-term average of 578 cu ft/second. It looked like I could have jumped across if the rocks weren't so slippery. I guess it has indeed been dry lately. Smelt eggs were attached just a foot or two above the low water mark a little further down the channel. There were quite a few. I couldn't tell how many were still underwater.

Mid-April - Beaver Brook, Sharon (Paul Lauenstein)  About two-dozen large White suckers up to two feet long each were spawning in Beaver Brook, a tributary of the Neponset River. This photo shows splashes made by vibrating fishtails as a female White sucker releases her eggs, flanked by two male suckers releasing milt.

April 15 - Ponkapoag Pond, Canton (Carly Rocklen)  I hit the wooded, lakeside trail anticipating newly arrived warblers in the trees and shrubs along the path (birch, swamp azalea, poison sumac, alder and maple). However, I really didn't spot any until I'd reached a ways into the forest. It was about 6:15PM then. Sunlight drenched the tree canopy in a rich yellow. I heard one or two Pine warblers high up in the tree tops and after much looking around finally caught sight of one; it had flown out from a tall White pine and into the bare canopy of a neighboring deciduous tree. (Pine warblers are surprisingly subtly colored birds for the remarkably beautiful, lazy, blurry trill they make. I recommend Googling their images and then looking for these birds in the woods when you hear such a trill. It's intensely rewarding to finally catch sight of one.) 

     A male American goldfinch perched high up on a tree branch in the same area of the forest - its little body an impressively bright shade of yellow, with black wings - fantastic colors against silver twigs and reddened, swelling leaf buds. Grey Tufted titmice called out as they flew in short bursts between trees. Waves of Common grackles and Red-winged blackbirds flew through the woods, some landing in trees in 2s and 3s while others roamed the forest floor, tossing up leaves with their beaks. A loud crew!

     Amidst a soundtrack of Flicker calls and White-breasted nuthatch beeps, American robin chortles, the bizarre, non-melodic vocalizations of Common grackles, and the trills of Pine warblers, I caught sight of a tiny black and white woodpecker - either a Hairy or a Downy - hopping up a tree trunk, pounding the bark for its dinner. A Great blue heron glided and flapped slowly above the woods, heading for the pond. Hidden from my view, Canada geese honked together, out on the water. Gray squirrels bounded through the obstacle course of the forest understory. A chipmunk prowled about the leaf-laden forest floor, looking for dinner, barely visible save for its black stripes. An American robin chased a Blue jay in and out of a labyrinth of junipers - was the robin defending its nest from attack?

     A black cormorant sat upright and very still on a wooden post out in the lake. A swan paddled slowly within the marsh, looking down into the water. 

     Out on the golf course, a blanket of American robins hopped about. At some point I also realized I was hearing a bird call I didn't recognize. I scanned the trees above me, even walking backwards to get a better look. Nothing. Only American robins were visible. Then I realized...perhaps the robins were making a warning call. I'd seen a small hawk (by its coloring, it was either a Sharp-shinned hawk or a Cooper's hawk) sail across the golf course, and at various points glide across the walking path, not 8 feet from me, to perch in trees. Suddenly a petite hawk with hooked beak, golden eye, long, sturdy legs and brown and white speckled plumage - soared across my path and landed low in an ornamental conifer, disappearing from view. Soon after, I heard a feathery commotion and witnessed two fluffy gray birds tumble out of the tree and onto the manicured grass. The hawk swiftly jumped out of the tree after them and landed on the ground. With golfers playing within 20 ft. of this scenario, I watched the predator alternately stand on top of each of the fledglings, shifting its weight from one talon to the other and occasionally looking downward. The robins in the trees around me whistled agitatedly (I admit I was astounded they didn't fly at the hawk to get it away from their babies). After maybe 5 minutes of this grisly scene, the hawk began to tear its meal apart. I was appalled and fascinated. I wondered if the adult robins were experiencing something akin to heartbreak, and then I wondered if they'd produce a new brood this season.

April 8 - Ponkapoag Pond, Canton (Carly Rocklen)  Just before dusk, walking along the paved path headed toward the lake, I caught sight of a small nuthatch hopping, head-first, in a spiral down the thick trunk of a Sugar maple. 

    A Flicker - one of the louder, larger woodpeckers that sounds a bit like Woody The Woodpecker and is a regular part of the suburban summer soundscape - called out from a perch. I could only see its head from where I stood. The flicker was looking about, scanning the golf course from the shelter of the tree. You'll find these birds scouting around on the ground or swooping between trees. Oftentimes, you'll only hear their loud call.

     A loud, reverbrating chorus of frog song soon greeted me at the intersection of golfcourse, lake, woods and bog. I wondered how the golfers could concentrate in the din - the symphonics of an amphibian mating frenzy. Though boisterously loud, the frogs were invisible, hidden in the dried reeds. 

     Blackbirds rustled in the tops of the bare, tall trees by the lake and in the shorter, marsh-bound shrubs. These grackles and Red-winged blackbirds guarded their territory, biding their time in the cold grayness of early spring until prospective mates flew in.

     Though I anticipated the brightly colored Yellow warblers that would eventually hop around in the shrubs of the bog, none were to be seen yet. 

     Further up the path, in the woods, another flicker pounded its beak into the side of a dead tree, sending out a long-distance call. As I searched for the bird in the puzzle of gray tree trunks, I caught sight of another flicker responding, flying in for a look. However, this flicker paused several times along the way, landing in different woody perches and poking around for insects, and I eventually lost sight of her (?).

     A skunk cabbage has now grown-up in a path-side stream, and the rounded, red-speckled spathe looks nothing like the green, leafy cabbage that will eventually unfold here. At the moment it's a speckled, 3-D, teardrop-shaped plant. I was impressed with how quickly it had grown in the last week - imagine all the cells multiplying in fast-forward! 

     A blanket of very short, 2-leaved plants are wiggling their way up from the dark, moist soil by the streams. Will these eventually be the tall, green plants of Jewelweed with the orange, snap-dragon-like flowers that hummingbirds love?

     By the water, small birch trees and alder shrubs are ornamented with wobbling, red-brown catkins that sway in the wind.  

     The multi-part leaves of Multiflora rose are beginning to unfold....  

April 2 - Ponkapoag Pond, Canton (Carly Rocklen)  I’m up to my old warm-month routine of wandering in the woods, again, around the lake. 

     The first thing that struck me when I hit the trail this afternoon was that the frogs were singing. Walking just a few more yards up the path, a pair of Green-winged teals (subtle-y-colored ducks) landed in the watery marsh, then began to paddle slowly in and out of inlets in the floating bog. 

     From further up the trail, I spotted five Ring-necked ducks sitting together on a partially submerged rock out in the lake (3 black, white and grey males and 2 speckled-brown females). It was particularly enjoyable to see them here after having spotted the same species in a very urban lake just a couple of days before. The white lines of their beaks are very prominent when standing a distance away. 

     Canada geese (of course!) shared the lake. The remarkable bit about them this time, though, was that one was sitting in the midst of the bog plants - the only visible part of it being its long neck and head. The bird was looking out over the browned vegetation. I’m it was sitting at its nesting site and keeping a look-out for threats. 

     A few sea gulls wheeled over the landscape. At one point I mistook a whitecap on the water (the wind was really whipping things up) for a paddling gull. Walking closer to shore, however, I noted that there were whitecaps all over this portion of the lake. 

     Grackles and Red-winged blackbirds called out from reeds in the marsh, and from the tops of trees ringing the lake. I thought they must be staking out their nesting/breeding territories and advertising for mates at this point in the season. 

     A Red squirrel and I surprised each other. As I was crunching my way up the path, it was in the midst of jumping from a fallen log to a shrub. Once it detected me (and vice versa), the squirrel launched itself for the nearest tree. Once on the tree trunk, it positioned itself to keep me in view. I stood still, watching it, and it stared right back, making loud chirruping noises and stamping its forepaws, its body convulsing. I wondered how far its noise carried (would the rest of the Red squirrels and all the other interesting wildlife up the path now hide?). Then the squirrel (significantly smaller than a Gray squirrel) rhythmically stamped its way down the tree. This was followed by a run up the back of the tree trunk. When I finally started to walk away along the path, I observed that the squirrel continued to watched me closely. I smiled at it. Leaving the site, I briefly considered how aggressive Red squirrels can be toward other species and for a moment imagined the animal launching itself at the back of my head, teeth bared. hah
     The occasional Grey squirrel ran through the fallen leaves on the forest floor, jumping from one inanimate object to the next.
     The old, small leaves of Garlic mustard showed in places along the forest floor. I thought to myself that I should probably pull those up right now, before they suck up a bunch of nutrients from the ground, but I didn’t. Spicebush branches with their evenly spaced pairs of small, spherical green leaf buds passed me by, as did the flattened and elongated brown leaf buds of Witch-hazel shrubs. I noticed the start of wildflower greenery on the forest floor, and knew the multi-part leaves of one species would soon turn a crimsony-brown. The green, thin stems of Euonymus bushes (E. alatus?) shown in the understory and I cringed at the sight of them. 

     In the water-laden marsh either cat-tails or Purple flags were starting - flattened light-green leaves poked up out of the water. Earlier along the trail, in a path-side stream, I think I caught sight of the green sprout of a skunk cabbage.

     American robins wandered over the adjacent golf course (away from the wandering Canada geese) and and flew in waves into the bare Sugar maples. I looked for the white bird I’d seen mixed into the flock the other day, but didn’t find it; I figured it must’ve continued moving north. A few Mourning doves flew out from the maples, and a Purple finch (as opposed to a House finch) sang from the top of a bare tree.

     At another Canton site I visited, a bird I don’t think I've ever seen before was hanging out by the bird feeder. The bird looked like a sparrow, but slightly elongated and thinner. Its flight style was also different - more swoopy, along the lines of a nuthatch. The feathers on either side of its head appeared a bit rough/uneven. 

     At another bird feeder, there were Goldfinches - both males and females. The males are a striking yellow and black. 

     And, in a small, man-made pond, we spotted brown-colored frogs (much smaller than bullfrogs, and even smaller than green frogs), and gelatinous egg masses floating in the water - grey with central black dots. 

     In people's lawns, crocuses, daffodils, and snowdrop flowers are blooming. Tulips are also starting to come up.

March 30 - Jamaica Pond, Jamaica Plain (Carly Rocklen)  On the pond late this afternoon, I watched a large cluster of American coots diving for - and snarfing down - submerged plants. As always, they were being harassed by Mallards which compete for food and follow around the coots to steal food out of their beaks or find the coots' foraging grounds. 

     Next to the coots was a smaller cluster of Ring-necked ducks. They were also diving for food. I didn’t see any plants hanging from their beaks, however. Maybe they eat tiny fish or benthic macroinvertebrates? I’ll have to read up on them. 

     There were 2 little Ruddy ducks paddling around in the midst of the Ring-necked ducks, too. I must say I couldn’t believe that these birds were actually smaller than American coots (coots are small enough!). Here was the size hierarchy: the Ruddy ducks were the smallest of all the waterfowl on the lake, with the Ring-necked ducks coming in as next smallest, and the American coots coming in third. 

     Swimming through all the bobbing and diving mini ducks were pairs of "giant" Mallards. The Mallards were a variety of shades of the normal colors; some were very pale and some darker, while others were hybrids - with varied coloration. 

     Canada geese were also on the lake, being competitive about who gets to float where, and eyeballing me as they paddled past. 

     Cormorants hung out on the mini island in the middle of the waterbody along with a few sea gulls. A few American robins sat around in the trees.

     A couple of boys were throwing stones at the waterfowl and I asked them to "please not hurt the birds." One boy looked pained at this plea from a stranger, as though feeling guilty - and I hoped that would propel him to stop, and maybe not throw the stones at all in the future.

March 25 - Sharon (Sue Price)  During the afternoon, I observed either an otter or a fisher (I am leaning towards otter) running around my neighbor's yard. It then dashed back into the adjacent Conservation Commission land, which includes Devil Brook.

March 25 - Houghs Neck, Quincy (Tom Wilson)  Today I see that the Osprey have returned to the First Marsh in Houghs Neck. 

March 22 - Neponset River Greenway, Dorchester (Carly Rocklen)  We hit the riverside trail at around 1:30 on Saturday afternoon, starting at Central Ave. in Milton. We headed towards Dorchester with the goal of reaching Pope John Paul II Park. It was a beautiful afternoon - in the 40s and blue-skied. The sunlight was warm on our faces. 

     Along the way, songbirds - especially American robins - called out from their stations in the grass and from the shadows of wild-grown shrubs. Desiccated vines of Virginia creeper and Poison ivy clung to the concrete walls beside the path, their little suckered feet parading across painted murals. 

     A male and female of what we took to be Black ducks (they look similar to Mallards but are colored in shades of brown and do not have curled tail feathers) paddled along in the salty water by the marsh at the Granite Ave. bridge. They'd paddle into each miniature inlet of water...and then out again, making their way downstream. 

     Sea gulls flapped and glided over the path and the marsh, squawking. People and their pets walked and jogged past. Crows flew overhead in groups. The dark, elongated shapes of Cormorants flew together directly above the water, heading downstream or up.

     While walking in Pope John Paul II Park, we glimpsed a cluster of boldly colored ducks (black and white) floating, preening and diving in the salty water. These Common mergansers (I highly recommend Googling them, especially their in-flight images) were being pushed downstream en masse by the strong current. They would alternately preen, dive beneath the water to feed (and completely disappear for a while), and shake out their wings. 

     Two other waterbirds, though it's unclear whether they were a species of grebe or loon (they were in winter, non-breeding plumage, and I hadn't brought my binoculars), preened themselves while floating downstream. Occasionally each of the birds would pump its wings hard and meanwhile almost stand upright on the water, then return to preening. The whiteness of their underparts against the darker color of the top of their long necks was striking as they preened. 

     Further downstream, a grey-blue and white-striped, crested Kingfisher flew over the water and landed in a bare deciduous tree. From its perch it called out with a loud rattle. 

     Olive-green, bladder-full seaweed waved beneath the salty water, attached to the rocks and to the jetty, visible from the boardwalk.

Winter 2007-08 Sightings

March - Rte. 138, Canton (John Linehan)  Unfortunately, some of my wildlife sightings are of the recently deceased type (road-kills). Last week on Rte. 138 in Canton, in an area where there are wetlands on each side of the street, I saw on consecutive days a fisher and then a mink. This is the same area where two young otters were killed in traffic a couple of years ago, of which I have photos. I have seen a lot of other animals killed in this area and it seems to be an important wildlife corridor. This would be an important area to create a safe wildlife crossing if that were possible. 

March 12 - Ponkapoag Pond, Canton (Carly Rocklen)  A group of Canada geese was out on the pond late this afternoon/early this evening, in the dimming sunlight. Some of the birds floated out on the water; others stood together on a half-submerged rock, preening - rounded beige, white and black bodies visible from my vantage point. A Bufflehead (small duck) floated solo, next to the geese, looking miniscule in comparison - and visible only because of the bright white marking on its black and white head. Two swans floated further out in the lake - quiet, their heads and long necks beneath the water, rumps in the air, feeding. On land, scattered groups of American robins walked over the golf course adjacent to the pond, some alighting in grey, bare-limbed trees. Several robins perched in the European linden outside my office window, calling out. A few hopped across the front lawn, between the old house and the highly-trafficked street. Red-winged blackbirds and grackles called out from perches in the wooded swamp. Others flew overhead - black silhouettes solo or flying in pairs. Mourning doves in soft grays fluttered noisily from the branches of one bare Sugar maple to another. The buds of Spicebush were almost perfect spheres. Witch-hazel shrubs sported what would become yellow, stringy flowers in the spring. The dark green leaves of Striped wintergreen and Garlic mustard lay exposed on the forest floor. The dappled light of the woods reflected off the interrupted stems of Burning bush (Euonymus alatus).

Early March - Shepherd's Pond, Canton (Pat Gardner)  I saw a bunch of Common mergansers and a pair of swans out on the water.

March 7 - Stoughton (Patrician Bluestein)  Time and location:  Around 2PM at a small pond visible from Plain St., before Plain St. ends in Rte. 138 (Town Spa Pizza), on the right side if traveling from Bay Rd./Sharon. I drive along this road on my round-trip to work, 5 days a week. The winter typically provides just a view of ice, some Canada geese standing on it at times. When the ice retreats, Mallard ducks and Canada geese swim around in a few pairs. This past week I almost drove off the road when I caught sight of a long, dark shape curled lazily on an ice floe, then I saw the roundish black head perk up and the creature dive from the ice into the water! The next sighting, it was resting on an even smaller ice section, I could see the long sleek tail, the black shiny fur from head to toe. I believe that I saw a river otter!

March 7 - Lyman Pond, Westwood (Wendy Muellers)  I wanted to report that I spotted two Great blue herons on the trees that make up the rookery on Lyman Pond in Westwood. It was a great sight to see! I have not had a chance to get down to the pond on foot; the water level is so high! I am hoping to get there. Will report how many herons we see. Last year, there was a pair of Great horned owls nesting in one of the heron's nests. It was so cool to hear the mate hooting from the edge of the pond as we approached the edge of the water. Owl calls always send a twinge up my spine! 

February 8 - Mattapan (Carly Rocklen)  In the mid-morning, on the peak of a steeply pitched roof alongside busy Blue Hill Ave., three large sea gulls stand next to one another, all facing the same direction. A light snow falls around these big, white and grey birds. The orange color of the building and the white of the snow-laden roof complement the vision. I smile, driving past, caught in the traffic wave and looking upward -

February 3 - Houghs Neck, Quincy (Tom Wilson)  This morning I heard a bunch of very upset crows. I looked up expecting to find a hawk or owl. When I looked to the ground, I saw a Red fox traversing the marsh towards the "crusher," a conservation area. Beautiful bushy tail with a white tip, a wonderful sight.

January 6 - Jamaica Plain (Carly Rocklen)  In the late afternoon as the sun slowly faded, a juvenile Bald eagle glided high over Jamaica Pond, the feathers at the end of its wings curling up against the wind. The eagle settled toward the top of a tall sycamore tree, looking out over the pond. A little Ruddy duck paddled in the water in the midst of a crowd of large male and female Mallard ducks and little, round American coots. The coots dipped repeatedly into the water, head first, only to pop up several feet away. Canada geese paddled in the pond as well, alternately walking over the ice and floating. A lone female Wood duck called out from between the Mallards.

December 25 - Jamaica Plain (Carly Rocklen)  It was in the low 40s today, and we took a walk around Jamaica Pond, watching flocks of mixed waterfowl (Mallard ducks, a female Wood duck, Canada geese, American coots and sea gulls) paddle through slim-pickings of open water between sheets of ice. Two abandoned sleds lay icily entombed on the lake's surface; we wondered at the stories behind them. 

Late December - Lowell. (Bill Hocking, Jr.)  My wife and I had the pleasure of being about 100 feet away from an eagle while visiting my sister-in-law who lives in the center of Lowell in an old mill on the Concord River -- what a sight to be that close! It was a Bald Eagle and it knew what it was doing as far as fishing was concerned. It also looked very well fed, and did not cry like a juvenile that we saw at Rangeley Lake in Maine. This is only my 3rd sighting of an Eagle.

Fall 2007 Sightings

December 7 - Canton. (Carly Rocklen)  It's flurrying today. Flakes of translucent white fall outside the window in the foreground, set against a wet, dark parking lot, jumbles of immense SUVs, auburn-colored, bare Sugar maple trees, and grass half-exposed in the snow. A large flock of Canada geese flies up over the house, calling out.

November 29 - Canton. (Carly Rocklen) Before I see anything, I hear the honking. Overhead, beneath splotchily thick cloud cover, a ragged "V" of Canada geese flies eastward over bare Sugar maples.

November 22 - Dorchester. (MaryAnn Folan) On Friday morning, November 22nd, I was walking/exploring with my children, we were heading back from a trail walk toward the MRI building along the Neponset River in Dorchester. My son spotted something in the river, we took a closer look with our binoculars, and it was a beautiful Harbor seal! The Neponset River is an amazing place!

November - Readville, Hyde Park. (Mary Cassidy)  

It’s A Great Pumpkin - No Patch Required 

     There are urban gardens and urban legends. This pumpkin relates to both.

     Virtually every kid in America grows up knowing that pumpkins grow up in pumpkin patches. It was true the first time we saw “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” on TV and it’s true today.

     But this pumpkin did not grow up in a patch, nor did any of its siblings. It is, instead, the result of luck, a warm winter, a sturdy predecessor and some of Mother Nature’s whimsy.

     This pumpkin, and its 14 siblings, began life in a 10 foot by 10 foot garden plot at the Kennedy Community Gardens in Mattapan, part of the Boston Natural Areas Network. Last November, around Thanksgiving, I was preparing a compost heap for my sturdy little garden. It had consistently produced a steady supply of fine tomatoes, peppers and eggplant. I’m sure the same could have been said of lettuce, but I did not want to get in the car every time I wanted a homegrown salad, so earlier last year I took up a gardening challenge and grew lettuce in a window box on my deck. This got me thinking about growing more vegetables in limited space. So I took a pumpkin whose time had come (and gone) and tossed - scraps and seeds alike - into my garden compost. Fall soon became winter; but with the exception of a few good snowfalls, the winter was fairly mild. When winter turned to early spring and it was time, to clean up the garden spot and start anew, there was a surprise: vines under the leaves of the compost pile. There was a pumpkin in process - and it occurred to me that it had gotten a head start - even in this limited space.

     I picked my first pumpkin from its unlikely home in July and more than a dozen others since. The longest to stay on the vine was four weeks. Some were picked early to give them a home before decomposition set in. Some siblings were picked to avoid being taken by uninvited pumpkin predators.

     And this gem, the pick of the litter, was plucked on August 21st.

     With some faith, effort, determination and a little bit of luck, life can pop up in some unlikely places. Maybe even a small garden plot. Give it a try. And enjoy a wonderful harvest season.