Shorter Days Potpourri

Somewhere around mid-July, the air starts filling with clouds of tiny insect life-forms illuminated by a sun you’re a bit sick of. The underfoot grasses, soft and moist just a few weeks ago now crackle with each footstep, and mats of green algae form on the surface of the ever-stagnating river. The mornings are much quieter as nesting birds become secretive about their activities and it finally must be admitted that the joyous uplifting of spring has passed for another year. The air smells like fallen fruit and there is often a hint of smoke in the olfactory background in the days of “fire season”.

Juvenile Yellow-breasted Chat. This bird will fly perhaps a thousand miles south after a few more weeks fattening up here in Humboldt. It’s one of my favorite summer visitors and makes a wide range of squawking, gurgling, chortling and whistling sounds that always crack me up.

On the calendar, spring is long passed, but the heart will stretch it out as long as possible. After all, we had a late frost/late rains so it started late, right?

Young Kingfisher hovering before diving to grab a large tadpole. I’ve seen Kingfishers hover before diving over bigger bodies of water at the Humboldt Bay National Wildlife Refuge, but never over the river where I’ve only ever seen them dive directly down from a tree branch or rock.

The anticipation, which is part of the fun, begins in January if you’re disciplined, so honestly, being able to stretch spring into an entire half year if you wait to let go of it until mid-July is almost greedy. And maybe it is greed that brings on the biggest let-downs when it is finally dropped.

But the heart is still beating and new anticipation arises. Glimpses of fledgling songbirds appear, and they don’t know what to be afraid of yet so they might let you look at them for a while. Kingfishers break their nesting season silence and patrol the river again, swooping from low to high, the loud squeaky rattle that is their call filling the airwaves.

Large youngsters such as Great Blue Herons and Great Egrets appear, not quite grown into their elegance, and as early migration begins, you never know what might show up and get you on the rare bird alert.

This young Sharp-shinned Hawk passed through briefly in early August, sending the nearby songbirds deep into silent cover. It is considered a rare bird here this time of year.

Great Egret making its way upstream in late July

Just about everyone is eating berries. And so the summer ripens.

Young Scrub Jay making several bites out of a blackberry.

When this time of the year wanes, the let-down won’t be as severe, and will be replaced by the renewed stir of anticipation, this time of the rains and the rising river full of salmon. And so on.

One response to “Shorter Days Potpourri”

latskojerry

August 28, 2024

It is both uplifting and a bit sad that this wide and interesting immense variety of life forms exists with us but decades of observation tell us that the numbers have severely diminished. I’m grateful for what remains and for your work that shows it to us.

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