Hawk In The Bed

If you were hoping for a naughty post, forget about it.

I was sting in my living room this morning reading the paper and drinking some coffee when something flashed outside the window, just in my peripheral vision. It was large and brown and for a moment I thought it might be a large bird, possibly a raptor, but tossed that though out -- why would a large bird be in my front bed? A few minutes went by and I was goo-gooing and ga-gaing with Child Three when I heard this funny, high pitched noise, outside the house, in the front bed.

I looked out the window, and saw a hawk, sitting amongst the rhododendrons, with its wings somewhat down and out. I ran upstairs to get the other kids and Mrs. Agricola and managed to show Child One the hawk before he took off across the street. I have no idea what he was doing in the bed. The wings down and out were definitely some sort of display, but he was all alone. Whatever it was it was cool, and I've seen this hawk before, or at least the same kind (I'm having trouble identifying it), so it is definitely a neighbor. I hope to see it again soon.

Recovery

I was kicking around the house one morning about a week-and-a-half ago, before leaving for work, when I heard a clunk at the front door and looked in time to see a bird flutter away from the storm-door window. I looked out the door and saw a little bird, resting splay-winged in a holly bush that sits next to our front step. It recovered somewhat and pulled itself together so that it was not all akimbo, but it was definitely dazed. I watched it move through stages of recovery, thought that it might die when it started slow blinking and, then watched it as it began chirping.

I managed to snap a few decent shots of the concussed bird and pulled out a couple of my bird books and identified it as a Yellow-bellied Fly Catcher. It's not native to my neck of the woods but must have been passing through on its migration south. Before I left for work the Flycatcher had flown into the holly bush and I thought that might be a bad sign, until I heard him chirping more and more as I walked around the bush. As I moved around the front of the holly I noticed that he was sitting on a branch, up high towards the front hanging onto a swaying branch. He was long gone by the time I came home.

Signs

The tulips and daffodils are sprouting in one of my side beds.

The forsythia and magnolias have really large buds and are ready to burst.

Some mornings I can smell the earth again.

I can smell my composter when I'm near it.

One of the neighborhood crows had a big stick in its mouth for a nest.

The Juncos are less frequent visitors to my feeder.

Red Winged Blackbirds returned to the feeder today.

The sun is actually warm even though the air is not particularly so, right now.

Morning of The Coyote

I went out for a run this morning, earlier than normal, and as I began taking my first few strides I noticed a coyote running down my street in front me. It was a cool experience and only heightens my sense that where I live is not as settled as it seems. The below quote comes from my running blog where I wrote about it as part of my training log:

Anyway, it was pretty dark, but the sky was lighting up in the East with the sunrise. A lady was walking a couple of dogs and I said "hello" to her as I started my run. I took a few strides, looked up and saw a coyote running very fast away from me, across the street that our street intersects, and down a hilly driveway into somebody's yard. I crossed the street to see if I could see him but he was gone into the dark woods. It was very cool, and I was surprised to see the coyote at that hour. The last time I'd seen him he was waking the neighborhood after getting into it with a cat that lives down the street -- I think the coyote lost that exchange, it must be a tough cat.

Unexpected Sights

I opened my front door this morning to retrieve the papers and saw a humming bird, hovering above eye level, just in front of the front stoop. I think it was a female Ruby Throated Hummingbird, but I'm not a great identifier of birds, and the view was so brief that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to positively identify it. I called to Child One to some see the hovering, gracefully-beaked bird but it flew off just before she got to the door. It was very cool because I've never seen a hummingbird on Quarter Acre, so this was a welcome site.

(Speaking of rare, about two weeks ago I saw a Baltimore Oriole. They are rare visitors to the Quarter Acre, though I typically see about one each year.)

Another cool thing that I observed, also this morning, was a red dragonfly that shot straight up in the air from its spot in the lawn to grab a fat, slow-flying bug. Mrs. Agricola and I both saw it and it was an impressive bit of wild kingdom with our morning coffee.

Damaged Chipmunk

This morning, on the way out of the house I noticed something moving in my front beds. I bent over to look and saw a chipmunk. It moved pretty quickly away from my gaze to hide itself and I noticed something odd about it: it's back legs and tails were black, and the legs did not seem to be moving.

I changed my vantage point to look at the poor beast and noticed that indeed its legs were black and dirty (hopefully, rather than entirely infected and gangrenous) and that the animal was paralyzed from the waist down. The chipmunk must have been hit by a car, maybe one of ours, I do not know, and was hiding out in our beds. It was sort of gross and sad, all at the same time.

Eerie Yelps

We finally saw the Sopranos finale last night, and I'll write more about it in another post, though I may need to see it again to successfully parse it all out. When it was over, Mrs. Agricola and I headed up to bed. As we did we heard one of the creepiest sounds either of us has ever heard. It sounded slightly human, but for a couple of yelps I thought it might be a turkey. After hearing the eerie, sharp noise a couple more times I knew that it was definitely mammalian.

I looked out the window and saw a small, pale yellow colored animal that looked like a neighbor dog -- but it was too late for that animal to be outside -- or a large cat (but not big enough to be a lynx or something like that and the noise, which was continuing was not feline at all). It was half in the shadows and half in the light of the arc-lamps so it was not entirely clear what I was looking at until it moved and started to walk like a dog.

My wife ran over to look too but the animal had moved into full shadows. We grabbed some binoculars and though the animal was in shadow I could distinctly see its pointy head, skinny waist and a long bushy tail -- it could have been a fox, but it's light color is what makes me think it was a coyote. It had stopped yelping, and was sitting at the end of a neighbor's driveway. Lights were coming on up and down the street because of the commotion but the coyote sat there very calmly before slinking off between two houses, returning to his home, no doubt, in the marshes along the Charles River.

Kusa Dogwood

Hen Turkey: Two

Mrs. Agricola reports that the hen turkey was back yesterday, and this time she was kicking around the Quarter Acre. A neighbor reported that she and her family saw it walking down the middle of the street. We're looking forward to seeing if the bird decides to stick around the neighborhood -- perhaps it has decided to make a home amongst us.

This is pretty cool, but also somewhat problematic. We've heard of turkeys ruining cars by sitting on them and doing what turkeys do. They can also be aggressive birds, and with little kids around we will need to keep an eye out for the turkey to make sure she and the kids don't come to blows -- toddlers would not fare well in that encounter.

That said, it's interesting and we look forward to seeing how things develop. As we noted in a previous post nature is all around us, and we are living in ever-closer proximity to wild animals despite the seeming tameness of our surroundings. Were the turkey a coyote we might feel differently, but even if it were it would still be exciting to have the opportunity to watch nature up close, over our morning coffee.

Hen Turkey

Tonight, while cooking dinner, we looked outside the side-kitchen-window towards our neighbor's house and noticed a very large hen turkey scratching away on his lawn. We rustled up the kids and Pater Agricolae (he was dining with us this evening since Mater Agricolae is still in Chicago) and went to the front stoop to watch the turkey in action.

She spooked quickly and headed for more concealed forage across the street. We had neither the time nor the presence of mind to grab a camera until it was too late so we have no photographic evidence to back up our story. All in all though, it was very cool to see a turkey near the Quarter Acre. Increasingly we see more and more of these large birds all around the area, but, until today had never seen one in our neighborhood. She was a handsome bird, and we all got a tremendous kick out of our encounter.

The Greening

The Northeast is greening up despite the cold and damp that's still hanging over the region -- the tail-end of the weekend's storm.

We suppose it should be getting greener given all of the moisture that lawns, trees and shrubs are receiving, but it's more than simple moisture that is hastening the reemergence. Buds grow larger, green grass blades overtake brown and our tulips and daffodils seem to be growing visibly each day -- the latter ahead of the former in the bloom department.

Some forsythia have finally bloomed, their yellow blossoms much welcomed in the dreary landscape; shrubs that we pass on our morning run sprout small leaves again and many trees in the neighborhood -- not just the early flowering ones -- are budding rapidly, ready to burst. It's a hopeful time of year, despite the dreary weather and desolate news reports. But, as she does each year, Nature sheds her winter garb to reveal her reborn beauty and we welcome the change with open heart.

She's returned not a moment too soon.

Red Winged Blackbirds

This week a bunch of Red Winged Blackbirds have been visiting the Quarter Acre bird feeder. Last week, one came by for breakfast a couple of times. Yesterday, about 12 of them were out in the yard, eating the birdseed that had fallen out of the feeder. When they take off, en mass, it's pretty amazing.

One day last spring we had about 25 visit the yard at one time, around this time of year, but then didn't see another one for the rest of the spring and the summer. The Quarter Acre is not far from the Charles River and there are lots marshy areas with tall grass that is perfect for the Red Winged Blackbird. Our yard must be a quick stop on their migration back to their summer grounds. It's a welcome visit, and another sign that spring is certainly here.

Small Signs

After our morning constitutional, during the cool down phase, we took a walk around the Quarter Acre. A week ago we got a solid, late-season dumping of snow that froze very hard. A couple of lovely spring days have melted it though, and the smells of thawing earth and melt-water once again fill the air.

Greening grass, emerges from beneath winter thatch. Tulips and daffodils, planted last fall (some partially sprouted during a weirdly warm December, and are now a bit burned) are sprouting in earnest; and, Tiger Lilies, that will not bloom until late June, have broken through the soil to begin their ascent. The sun shines brighter, longer, at a steeper angle each day, warming both earth and air.

Today, we sense a certain Spring-hopefulness. The Quarter Acre is shedding its drab winter garb and emerging from its latency. It is time we did the same, the signs are all around.

Random Thoughts

We've got a bunch of random thoughts and observations that we've been hashing around since the last post on 3/3, with nothing really coalescing into any sort of coherent post. So, here goes:

Oops!
DeVille Patrick is in trouble again. He made what essentially amounts to a lobbying call to Citigroup and his old pal, and fellow Clintonista, Bob Rubin on behalf of a company for which he served as a board member. The latter is struggling and Citgroup has business interests in the Commonwealth. This side trip into an ethical gray area (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) occurred after DeVille specifically warned his staff to avoid any actions that could be deemed "unethical." Clintonistas know how to skirt the ethics line, and, somehow, to get away with it. Together we can . . .

Jumped the Gun
We spoke too soon in regards to the demise of the ice age. Arctic cold dropped like an anvil on top of Boston where it has remained for the past three days. The once slushy ice sheet in the backyard is now a solid sheet of glistening ice.

Comets on the Curb
Speaking of ice . . . the stuff that's left by the sides of the roads, covered in sand, dust and other substances is something beyond ice at this point. It's more akin to the material that makes up comets.

Doves
There are three nesting pairs of Doves in the backyard who have been riding out the cold hunkered down in some Myrtle and left-over oak leaves. They sit in the sun on the hill at the back of the Quarter Acre for hours on end, puffed up, eyes half closed. When we lived in Brooklyn we had a nesting pair who built a a flimsy little nest on our fire escape. The nest held two eggs, both of which hatched. A crow however came and upset the whole thing, stealing one baby, and knocking the other to a lower roof where the it ended up in a gutter. The parents tended the baby there and the baby dove eventually flew away -- literally making it out of the gutter.

Call of the Wild
There is a cool cat that comes wandering through the yard, on a pretty regular schedule. He's big, he's clean, his gray and white coat is thick. He took a run at the birds on the ground (see, above: Doves). Before we saw him charge down the hill some birds got skittish and started bolting -- we thought that maybe the hawk was coming in for a kill. The cat scattered the remaining birds and squirrels none of whom returned until the next day. We're not at all cat (or even animal people) but hunting, outdoor cats are pretty cool -- mini suburban tigers.

The Ice Age Winds Down

Today was a beautiful, sunny, 50 F day. The ice sheet that covers the Quarter Acre is melting rapidly and the yard is being revealed. Spring is definitely on the way. An interesting leftover from the ice sheet's retreat are large number of rocks and pebbles that washed down the hill at the back of the property. They occupy the area at the foot of the hill and the top of the lawn, piled up like glacial scree.

Another interesting leftover is copious amounts of rabbit droppings. It almost seems as if a whole herd of bunnies sits on our lawn eating and pooping all night. On close inspection the grass is fairly well cropped, and the amount of droppings is staggering. There are also some rather dense tufts of rabbit down. Our theory is that this part of the yard gets sun all year 'round and the snow melts in this area -- whereas much of the lawn sits in the house's shadow and sits under ice still. So, the rabbits come and dine on what they can find, and fertilize as they go.

The Harvard Square Falcon

On Wednesday, 28 February (this is the second post this week to start this way), while sitting in a meeting we happened to let our attention wander and gazed out the window. Across the street from our office, visible outside of the conference room in which we were sitting is a church with a tall stone spire. Perched on the cross atop the spire was the Peregrine Falcon that we had seen hunting at St. Paul's in December 2006. It perched on one of the arms of the cross, surveying the scene, primping and preening for about 10 minutes before flying away to look for breakfast.

Missed Opportunity

Though well into our mid-thirties we still enjoy the thought of the snow day. The Boston area -- much of the country from the Midwest east, actually -- got whacked over the past few days. We went to bed Tuesday night with dreams of "working from home" dancing in our head, and the work laptop downstairs in the front hall. Alas, the accumulations were neither earth-shattering nor travel-prohibiting, so we waited out the morning rush and headed in.

Such a disappointing turn of events . . .

Then, upon returning to the Quarter Acre we reveled in the distinct pleasure of shoveling frozen snow for nearly two hours. Despite working diligently, we only managed to uncork the end of the driveway, and, sort of, uncover the rest of it. One bonus, however was that the snow wasn't actually frozen all the way to the ground. No, no, the top was frozen solid, and the layer below was slushy, wet and heavy. February is grand.

Encountering the Raptor

Despite living in NYC for the better part of a decade we never saw the famed nesting- pair of Red Tailed hawks that lived in Central Park; nor the Red Tails who were evicted and later reinstated at a tony address on 5th Avenue; nor the Peregrine Falcons who supposedly hunted at will throughout Midtown; nor the trained falcons used to control pigeons in Bryant Park. It took our move to Boston to start encountering urban raptors.

Just last week, while walking near my office a sudden movement high atop a bell tower caught my eye. The pigeons who roost up there suddenly took flight and started flying around the tower in large swooping arcs. Within moments a Peregrine Falcon coasted into view looking for lunch. The small bird peeled away and about three minutes later it reappeared, approaching the bell tower and potential lunch on a new vector.

At another job, in one of Boston's tallest buildings, we had the good fortune of sitting in a cube with a westward facing window -- looking out towards Fenway Park and Boston's western 'burbs. A Peregrine Falcon lived nearby for we saw it almost daily, hunting while riding the updrafts that scoured this structure. Our perch was high enough that at times we could see the falcon from above.

As much as we might have wanted to we did not see either of these falcons make a kill. We did witness a kill on the Quarter Acre in the spring of '05. One morning, while holding Child One by a window, watching birds on the feeder, all of the avian diners bolted in a panic. Within a moment a hawk dove past the feeder, talons out, and landed on the lawn. It came so close to the feeder that at first we thought it had picked off an unfortunate sparrow. However, as it flew away, after standing proudly in the middle of the lawn, most-definitely occupying the top of the food chain on the Quarter Acre, we saw that it had nailed a ground-feeding chipmunk.

This same hawk has flown by our porch -- at eye level, close enough to hear the air moving over its body -- and we frequently hear it while working in the yard, chirping and screeching from its nearby, but unseen nest. Last spring this raptor had a partner and we watched them soar high, high above us, nearly transparent in the sky, but highly audible as they screeched to one another while making lazy circles.

Spending as much time as we do commuting to our job we also notice many hawks perched above the highways and byways of the Commonwealth. Two hawks hunted from neighboring lampposts over I-95/128 in Woburn. One was struck by a car -- we saw its carcass by the side of the road in the late summer -- leaving only one hunter to scan the shoulders and median strips of that road. A giant hawk perches atop a lamp post along Soldiers' Field Road in Brighton, hunting along the obviously abundant banks of the Charles River.

The overt presence of these amazing predators is one more exhibit in a growing body of evidence that nature is adapting and growing ever more comfortable living in close proximity to humans. Many might argue that Man encroaches ever-more into nature, and forces this adaptation. Our neighborhood, however, was built in 1954, and is therefore, not a recent encroachment into some pristine wilderness area. Despite the seemingly settled nature of our man-made environment we are surrounded by the eternal struggle between hunter and hunted, entropy and stasis. It would not take much for our environment to revert to its original state as evidenced by the raptors that live comfortably in our midst.