Spring's Resolve Bluebirds and Tree Swallows

Property disputes between bluebirds and tree swallows, and tree swallows and tree swallows seem to be resolved by now and life is very busy with serious nesting preparations here at Flower Hill Farm. 

Today I took my first butterfly photo of 2014 — caught a whisper of light in a Cabbage White while she rested between sips of daffodil nectar. I invite you to scroll through to see the animated birds and a honeybee too. 

Migratory songbirds are showing up daily to claim their territory. A Ruby-crowned Kinglet is displaying his crown while very near the ground. I fear for the hundreds of sleeping pupa and caterpillars hoping for a season to spread their gowns. But I am happy to see these familiar bird friends return.

Everyday, new Iris reticulata stems are breaking earth and pushing their way through last years detritus spreading petals of blues and purples across the garden floor. 

Meanwhile, I am working at the computer most days into nights and often into nearly dawns trying to finish my new website. Gathering and resizing then grouping years of photos of wildlife and gardens, skies and landscapes all arranged on pages that hold this place in pixels. Flower Hill Farm and all her beasties are being catalogued and soon will be presented on my new site caroldukeflowers.com. 

I will be back here a few more times to invite you to visit. 

Waiting with Wildlife for Spring's Return

We are all patiently waiting for spring to arrive here in Western Massachusetts.  Flower Hill Farm has no buds a bloom in the trees or scattered about the snow covered grounds, and though I may be a bit weary of this winter, I can see signs of spring in the arrival and behavior of some of our wildlife.  I have seen turkey vultures soaring high over the hills and do note more song filling the rawness of early morning.  Also, sap is flowing within the sugar maples, while stacks from sugar shacks are ushering plumes of sweet steam into the chilly air.

A Red-shouldered Hawk woos me with his strikingly patterned wing span and full tail fan, as he flies from Michael's Black Cherry tree towards the forest below.  More ephemeral than a spring flower but what a warm rush of awe I feel in witnessing this flight.

The bluebirds are ready for spring to finally spread our way too.  I cannot help but think he is trying to tell me something coming in out of the bright sunshine, to perch in the cooler shade closer to my door.

 I am curious why the bluebirds never eat the crabapples, when so many other birds find them tasty.

Cedar Waxwings are seemingly content harvesting American Cranberry bush Viburnum and crabapple fruit.  I am seeing them through a studio sliding door and screen which gives a more pastel feel to the image.  The bright yellow tips of their tails remind me of daffodils that must be stirring a bit beneath the snow.

Waxwings filled the naked trees like large buds.  They will perch for awhile and then suddenly all will dive like a small cloud into the crabapple orchard and feast on the apples.  There is a flock of waxwings out in the crabapple orchard as I write this, but they are mostly still, taking in the warmth of the sun, on this 18 degrees Fahrenheit frigid morn.

On the ground there are hundreds of animal tracks crisscrossing around the snowy gardens and fields.  Here a white-tailed doe gracefully displays her namesake as she walks through the middle garden mirroring the white landscape.

 In the crabapple orchard, could they be munching on the tiny fallen fruit.  It has been a very long winter and all the wildlife must be longing for a heartier meal.

I startle the deer, when I open the door to have a closer look and they quickly flee into the north field.

I have always wanted horses and find them beautiful to see out in fields.  Seeing deer bounding through the snow covered scenery adds cheer to the still clinging winter day.

White-tailed Deer do very little damage here but this critter is an entirely different matter.  She chomps off-shoots of shrubberies as if they were celery sticks.  Clearly some beasts are more compatible for waiting out spring's return.  To be fair to the Eastern Cottontail, I could add that most shrubs do recover from this pruning.

Wild turkeys, however, bring such fun into the gardens.  When they fill the scene their liveliness is so comical and uplifting.  I sense they are very winter weary too, as they literally leap and lift themselves up into the trees.  This hen is not leaping for joy here but for the tiny crabapples that are abundant in the canopies of the small trees.

A hen harvests apples from up in the crabapple tree, while a few toms skid and slip about below picking up what she drops in the slippery snow. 

Sunlight is perfect lighting — illustrating the bronze-green iridescent wild turkey plumage.  This male displays his long beard or tuft of hair.  I have yet to find an explanation for this odd detail that only males don.

Such colors brighten spirits still longing for spring.  All these visits come within a day except for the Red-shouldered Hawk, who visited one day earlier.  These beautiful creatures simply take each day as it comes and in observing their grace and patience, this human can bear the wait for spring's return with gratitude and good faith too.  

October Changing Light and Hues Flights Stirring Fallen Leaves

October drifted into our lives, already alive in colors changing to their true hues, with several flocks in flight stirring up fallen leaves beneath our stately Rock Maple trees. Cedar Waxwings, Ruby-crowned Kinglets, solitary Blue-headed Vireos and Bluebirds flit about calling out in high pitched trills and tweets. A pair of Pileated Woodpeckers dash and tear the sheath of air around the shivering, nearly golden Black Cherry. Everything is in constant motion most all of the time, but just now there is an excitement to the changing season and journeys underway.

The male Bluebird returns to his garden after some weeks of silence and secrecy . . . "Where have you been?" . . .  I silently wonder. I have missed your soft murmuring warbles. The couple furtively, though in plain view, raised two broods here this summer and will claim their chosen homesite to begin again when springs slips over the land. Until then . . . come what may . . .  we will have months together, on this east facing hillside, beneath the mantels of autumn and winter. For now, I must get out and clean their nestbox.

Just at the edge of the Crabapple Orchard a Tree Hydrangea's off-white petals melt into blush pink below a heavily laden Crabapple tree. Flocks of Robins and Cedar Waxwings, along with a Flicker or two, have already been testing the tartness of these tiny apples. 

Ruby-crowned Kinglets are busy gleaning the trees of, even more tiny, insects but never seem tempted by the small apples.

Light and colors are ever in a state of change. Soon the serpentine Black Cherry will be wearing all flaxen tresses and when a large breath of wind moves through her mane . . . golden rain will shatter and fall freely like a flight of butterflies into the pathway of breeze. At this moment . . .  here . . . having lived this time . . . years upon years . . . the images are like parts of a tapestry . . . each year another woven picture within a large hanging called . . .  a seasonal life. A life well seasoned . . . nearing an autumnal age. Yet, I never tire of the excitement of such profound changes within the tides of nature surrounding me.

Plants and shrubs become poetic in exhaling one last flower before inhaling their life fluids deep into their inner trunks and cores. People too may pull in towards their winter souls and move slower through  the pages of months yet to be turned.  These last blooms will nurture our poetic natures and fuel the many pollinators still busy about the gardens and fields.

Light dances throughout the landscape creating colors of cooler and warmer tones. 

The Ruby-crowned Kinglets are delighting in the black aphid population occupying a giant Impatiens glandulifer Royal. The teeny morsels of protein will aid them in their flights south. There is an abundance for all . . . I am not sure what this tiff is all about . . . respecting boundaries I would guess. These might be females or just not very seriously upset, for if they were males and truly pissed, a bright red tuft would suddenly appear atop their heads. We all hide parts of ourselves, don't we.

This Blue-headed Vireo flies about with, and looks very similar to, the much smaller Ruby-crowned Kinglets. Careful observation reveals the true identity, however. As in all life it helps to pay attention to the details and not lose sight of the true nature of things. Not to hint at our country's present state of affairs too lightly.

This morning there is a thick blanket of fog hanging between Flower Hill Farm and Walnut Hill . . . the river below gushes rapidly from the heavy evening rain . . .  wearing and lapping down the memory of what the stones might have been. Earlier, as I was reading, soft chatter of birds and people's voices wafted in between the words and paragraphs . . . guests from Pakistan and Florida . . . a beautiful child wearing a white unicorn stealthily steps about the garden paths with her elegant grandmother who floats in a hammock for the first time in her sixty years. Her kind face, lush dark hair and rich light yellow and pumpkin colored finely woven silk shalwar  (loose trousers) and kameez (long tunic) fill the roped hammock and wild garden with an unknown joy to its being as well.

Each day the hillside fades just a bit more . . . from forest greens to oranges, yellows and reds reminiscent of springs early blooms.

Back To Cooler Garden Days of June ~ Roses, Mauves, Reds and Bluebird Broods

July has been a sultry mix so far with last night's "humiture" becoming more bearable or wearable I might say. I find it amusing that a former weatherman and gardener of the name George Winterling developed what we know as the 'heat index'  . . .  where the temperature of the air and that of the relative humidity are combined to come up with 'how hot it feels.' Well, we have all been feeling the heat wave and riding it as best we can. 

Back awhile ago, I promised to share the mauves and pinks that were filling the cooler June gardens. As promised . . .  a stroll through mostly the middle and north gardens dressed mainly in greens . . .  with pinks, mauves, reds and splashes of white. I hope to catch up with the July gardens before the month is out.

Looking southeast towards the Mount Holyoke Range and middle garden where the Bluebirds are now raising their second brood. Rosa Rugosa, Miss Canada Lilac and Beauty bush frame a tunnel-like space, that birds and butterflies flit through, leading into the middle gardens.

Eastern Tiger Swallowtails emerge in greater numbers just as the pink 'Miss Canada' Lilac blooms.

Rosa Rugosa 'Purple Pavement' never disappoints.  The delicious fragrance floats throughout the gardens. Later plump rose-hips become important food for the birds overwintering here.

Weigela florida 'Carlton' is also called 'Ghost' for the way the leaves turn a lighter color in the summer. 

I thought it would be a great plant for the hummingbirds, but I have yet to see one visiting the small shrub. Native bees do enjoy the nectar and will go to the trouble of opening the buds themselves to venture inside. The deer walk right by it and never take a bite.

You can see the Bluebird house is open in the photo above. The first brood fledges in mid June and so I remove the front panel of the nestbox, clean and then allow the simple, rustic birdhouse to air out. When the Weigela is in full bloom the bluebirds have fledglings. By mid-July they are busy caring for their second brood in the same nestbox. My cleaning and airing methods met with approval.

 Papa Bluebird is an intense or perfervid harvester of caterpillars . . . perfervid is a perfect word in reflecting these steamy hot days. "From modern Latin perfervidus, from Latin per - 'utterly' & fervidus 'glowing hot, fiery'" found in my mac British Dictionary. Can anyone identify the hapless caterpillar?

Little Bluebird nestling peering out at me as I check on the birds June 2nd . . . this is a nestling of the first brood. There had been no activity for days it seemed and concern had me opening the house for the first time ever while there were babies inside. Removing the front panel and portal of the nestbox, I did find a large black spider, with a couple of white spots, looming in the top/back left corner . . . not a pleasant greeting for the entering parents. After encouraging the creepy spider to leave, I close the box again. Activity picks up once more as per usual.

Looking up towards the middle garden and old Apple from the lower garden. 

From the middle garden looking towards the Apple and Joe Pye Weed.

The cherry-red blooms of Weigela florida, become cool in the shade while the Gray Birch clump glows in the sunlight creating an interesting contrast.

Walking over towards the north garden under the 'Three Graces' crabapples. The Japanese Tree Lilacs are just beginning.  

Japanese Tree Lilac with clouds of blooms over Mock Orange and Rosa Rugosa in the north garden. 

Just a bit earlier the roses were more of a show. 

The Mock Orange was only in bud behind the Rosa Rubrifloia 'Glauca'. 

At present . . . late July, the gardens are quite different, though the Rugosas are offering a few second blooms along with the Bluebirds second brood. 

I enjoy spending hours in the gardens and fields butterflying and have discovered and documented forty-six species living or visiting here over the years. I am allowing the gardens to just be on their own for now . . . with exception to cutting vines that would otherwise choke out milkweed and other beloved plants. 

The next garden walkabout will feature dramatic whites.