The other day I was sittin’ with Mom and Riley Mae and we were all watchin’ frogs sunnin’ in the sun. We watched as a little guy swam up to a rock, slowly streeetched, climbed up, and settled down into the damp mossy algae like a loafing cat.
“You know what I don’t believe?” I asked rhetorically. “I don’t believe that frogs actually eat. I mean, have you ever seen one eat? No, you haven’t.” Two minutes later this same little cozy frog launched forward and caught two bugs.
It was almost as cool as the time we saw a lil crayfish 3 seconds after Mom said “but we never see crayfish” and 1 second before Dad texted her “are you looking for crayfish?”
What are the odds??
They may seem like insignificant moments, but they feel really special at the time, like for a fleeting minute there’s proof that the universe is listening in on even your silliest of conversations. And I always seem to get these experiences whenever I go out for a hike. Lately I’ve been doing that much more often too. They’re just short hikes, mostly just an excuse to be out in the trees and fresh air, but they make all the difference. The other day Mom, Riley Mae and I were out of the house before I had even eaten breakfast (gotta love flexible work schedules).
Right now the woods smell deliciously like the sweet pepperbush that’s blooming along the trails, and I can assure you that we’ve paused many times to identify plants and flowers along the way (up until recently I was unaware that witch hazel grew natively here).
The three of us are really quite similar in a lot of ways, and I think that what we’d all truly love is to be wise old sages by the end of our lives. Like the ones who can walk with you through the woods and tell you everything you need to know about the habitat around you. Sure, half the population can name all the Kardashians, but can they name the trees, shrubs, and wildflowers growing in their backyard? I believe this to be truly underrated knowledge.
For years now Riley Mae has been teaching me to identify birds, not only by their appearances, but also by their calls and songs. Although I still have trouble with a few (the red-eyed vireo still has me stumped), I’m now pretty confident in identifying a lot of the birds on and around our property.
a little house wren
I will now never hear a goldfinch without hearing the distinct “potato chip” flight song, the Carolina wren without the harsh “cheater, cheater, cheater,” or the eastern towhee without the clear and precise “drink your teeeea.” Not to mention the adorable “hey sweetie” that the black-capped chickadees sing.
I love how the blue jays will imitate hawks (sometimes they can almost fool me), and how the gray catbirds sound like kittens mewing in the branches.
a gray catbird’s nest
I love being able to tell the difference between a tree swallow, barn swallow, and chimney swift just by their tiny silhouettes in the sky (note: chimney swifts look like “cigars with wings”), and knowing that finches are tiny vegans who nest later in the year because they need to make sure there are enough seeds available to feed their babies.
After spending all the time in the woods lately, I’ve been hearing new birds that Riley Mae has been identifying and, when she’s lucky, catching on camera. And I must say, I’ve discovered a new favorite bird song. The song of the hermit thrush.
a hermit thrush, photo via wikipedia
Although it’s not a showy bird (it definitely doesn’t stand out like a vibrant cardinal or bluebird), its angelic song echoing through the woods is probably one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. According to the wiki page: the hermit thrush’s song has been described as “the finest sound in nature.”
The clips you can find on YouTube are nice, but do it no real justice. You’ve really gotta experience it out in the woods to get the full effects of its beauty.
chipping sparrow
Sometimes it sounds like an ethereal whistle, or some kind of magical flute. Walking through the woods while they sing back and forth to each other on either side of the trail has given me the distinct impression that I’m walking into somewhere otherworldly…like Rivendell.
Sound dramatic? Maybe. But that’s just because you haven’t heard it.
I may not be able to identify it by plumage yet, but the song is one you can’t forget.
art by jordan rae 