Two passerines

Engrossed as I still am, sorting out photographs, I’ve not been as keen on road trips lately, but I was persuaded to take a very short one the other day.

Morning mist highlighted new growth in the field as we made our way to the state route.

The field gets mowed and bundled for animal fodder, but I hate to think how many Monarch caterpillars are destroyed in the process. Milkweed is a hardy plant that grows back. That is what all the tall plants in the photograph are. Alas, the carnage cannot be undone.

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The last time we came to Hudson Crossing Park, we were skidding about on ice.

This day it was very quiet, although as we walked toward the river, we heard an unfamiliar birdcall. Grant was able to spot the singer sitting on a twig high above. The photo I got was good enough to identify the bird as an Eastern wood pee-wee, but not worth sharing.

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Too many species have been avoiding us of late, as if someone in the animal kingdom has been bad-mouthing us.

Recently, even the skunks vanished. They were the visitors we could always count on. No matter where you looked, there always seemed to be a skunk in view. Then, quite suddenly they were gone, all at once.

Surely they wouldn’t all succumb at once to the rabies outbreak? A few nights ago, I had the unique experience of welcoming the most pungent and disagreeable pong of irate skunk. Doors and windows are no defence against it, but for once I was glad because it meant that at least one individual survived. Not that I saw it, nor have I caught its whiff since.

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In the absence of wildlife, I was obliged to take a different sort of photograph.

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It was hard to believe that this was August, which I’ve always thought was one of the hottest months, better than July only because of its closer proximity to Fall.

This day on the bridge felt more like the end of September.

It was delicious.

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But for one thing. We were feeding mosquitoes.

The wretched things fell upon us the moment we left the car.

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We had never ventured down this path before. Was I up for it? I was asked.

Of course!

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We came to an opening that gave access to a channel that branched off from the river.

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Regrettably, I could not obtain better pictures because:

It would have meant sliding down a steep and very muddy bank with no way to get back up.The mosquitoes here were frantic. Even in Asia, I don’t remember ever being so assaulted!

Still, it’s good to have found another place to check out in cold weather. When the foliage dies off, the view will be better and if we get prolonged wet weather, the rapids will be interesting.

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Before fleeing the woods, I quickly took one more shot, curious to find out what this was.

A wind phone (kaze no denwa) is a disconnected telephone in a quiet outdoor booth or garden. It has no dial tone and connects to no one. People use it to have one-way conversations with deceased family members or friends, helping them process grief and speak unspoken words. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wind_phone

Having looked them up, I’m surprised I never heard of these phones before.

The quiet, isolated location of the above telephone would certainly be ideal, but I cannot imagine attempting to communicate with a departed loved one while fending off mosquitoes.

Later in the year, perhaps.

We beat a very hasty retreat. As annoying as those Hudson River mosquitoes were, I have to admit that their bite was far less toxic than our Cambridge variety which cause welts that last for days. The river mozzie bites barely even itched. At least it was so for me and I did not hear Grant complain.

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Well, what do you know..?

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Mention that a creature hasn’t shown up lately and it will appear as if summoned.

This works for Grant all the time, often the very moment he utters the words, which is rather startling, but I’d always assumed it was his exclusive privilege. However, as I was writing, a Phoebe came to sit on the bird feeder stand, posing for me quite fetchingly.

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The eastern phoebe (Sayornis phoebe) is a small passerine bird. The genus name Sayornis is constructed from the specific part of Charles Lucien Bonaparte‘s name for Say’s phoebe, Muscicapa saya, and Ancient Greek ornis, “bird”.^[2] Phoebe is an alternative name for the Roman moon goddess Diana, but it may also have been chosen to imitate the bird’s call.

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Such a neat, pretty little bird. I am so pleased to have seen it.

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