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Things got rough at the seed trays this morning.
My eyes occasionally misinterpret, so I thought perhaps I’d imagined what I saw as we stood gazing out into anther grey morning, but then Grant exclaimed:
“I don’t believe it!”
A cowbird had seized a sparrow by a wing and flung it into the air. At least that is what we both thought.
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The grosbeaks and thrasher are back.
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So is the catbird and yesterday we spotted the first hummingbird, though it was gone before I could take a picture. I hastily prepared sugar water for the new feeder.
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A Carolina wren has taken to visiting every evening, pecking at crumbled suet or peanuts from a table on the porch.
Our only outstanding frequent visitor now is the Phoebe, although from time to time we do see others…
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…a solitary sandpiper by the pond at the end of the road.
(It was alone, but that is the official name)
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Sometimes we see a heron down there and on a sunny day, terrapins bask at the water’s edge.
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There have been brief, startling sun breaks over the past ten days, but it’s beginning to look as if the farmer who owns this property may have to turn it into paddy and plant rice this year.
The flood in his field is being fed by a torrent flowing down the slope where our house stands, as if the hill has sprung a leak.
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Usually after about six drops of rain we get a flood watch warning on our phones, yet this did not come until last night.
We began our watch days ago…
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Going to view swollen bodies of water.
The first flood I recall was significant.
The Lynmouth disaster was the worst river flood in British history.
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In August, 1952 my mother and I were visiting her family in Wiltshire. One night a savage storm blew up which I can remember as if it was yesterday.
Perhaps it lodged in my mind because during the storm my aunt’s dog Judy chewed the foot off my golliwog, but I remember the lightning, the thunder, the torrents of rain and next day we heard on the wireless about the flood in Lynmouth, the first tragedy that registered in my young mind.
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Not many years later my parents and I went to Cambodia and for the first few months we lived in a flat overlooking the Mekong river. It was impressive in the dry season. In full flood it was a sight to behold.
The Thames was a trickle by comparison.
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It seems that I have loved rivers and bridges ever since, although I am equally attracted to other bodies of water, be they vast or small.
Especially if there’s a duck paddling in it. Swan, goose etc, etc…
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Tuesday afternoon’s outing having been rather disappointing, we ventured out again on Wednesday.
Rivers were running high but trees and shrubs along the banks made access a challenge. I ventured onto a railroad bridge that crosses the Hoosic but it has no railing and the rushing water visible through the tracks made me lose balance, so I retreated.
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In my younger days I could have clambered down steep banks and over slippery rocks but at my age, with brittle bones, such adventures are unwise.
So, next day we took a familiar route, heading for Cohoes.
Decades apart, similar yet very different scenes still appeal to me…
My father’s photo of the rice paddies dotted with palm trees was always a favourite. I loved the landscape of SE Asia every bit as much as I love North America. We occupy a beautiful planet.
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This day, we headed down Wright road in the opposite direction.
It’s good to see anything from the opposite angle. Differences may be small but they can be subtle.
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Before, I’d only ever seen these trees from below.
From above and across the road, the perspective was better.
Their Spring finery was nice too.
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It felt entirely different to look down the road rather than up it.
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And a favourite tree was back to front.
Most frequently used routes are travelled in both directions, but Wright Road has only ever been our return because it’s one you take at leisure, not when you have an appointment.
At Stillwater, we went down to the tiny Canal Park where we could get close to the Hudson.
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As I found my way to the water’s edge I saw tiny blue flowers which PlantNet identifies as lesser periwinkle.
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A small island at the centre of the river was almost submerged.
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Stillwater bride from beneath the trees.
Alders, I think.
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We then crossed the bridge and stopped at the blockhouse to take a look from the west bank.
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The other side of that island.
And a friendly goose…
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I rather think it was hoping for a snack. If I’d expected such an encounter I’d have brought a packet of peas which I believe is the thing to offer.
The Hudson looks to be in full flow! I hope your property is spared any flooding, you have too many wild mouths to feed!
Best wishes, Pete.
Thank you, Carolyn, for the wonderful post devoted to the beauty of nature, especially many birds, trees, and the field that could soon be a rice field! You are right, that our planet is beautiful, I just wish I were able to see more, but that is life. As always, I love your fascinating memories from times gone. I grow lots of the periwinkle in my garden as they are very beautiful.
Joanna
What an amazing river the Hudson is!
Lynmouth was the first tragedy that i remember registering too. i remember people collecting clothes and blankets to send to the flood victims.
great photos (again).
Like you, I also really like any body of water (but strangely, not to be on a boat on the sea) … I prefer to just look at it. There was a big flood near Laingsburg here in the Western Cape in 1981 (104 people died that night), and that was my first awareness of the damage that a flash flood can cause. Your dad’s photo with the palm trees is indeed a beautiful piece, but I enjoy your own tree photos just as much. Love the video of the full Hudson!
Looks so peaceful. Beautiful