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December 12, 1999 |
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Today's Bird Sightings: no sign of the brant Today's Reading: Autumn from the Journals of Henry David Thoreau edited by H.G.O. Blake, Saint Augustine by Garry Wills, North Woods by Peter Marchand
Copyright © 1999, Janet I. Egan |
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A great blue heron flew low just above our heads from the cove out over Providence Harbor just as we started on the bike path. Geese and black ducks were flying everywhere and landing everywhere. A group of swans was chowing down on sea lettuce right next to the path. A nearby swan couple approached them cautiously, not quite busking but definitely on the alert - wings about to come up - so we figured there was going to be a confrontation. But I guess there was plenty of sea lettuce to go around because the couple joined in with the group who were already dining with not even one hiss. A pair of Canada geese swam over too, and again not one hiss. After awhile, the two geese started honking loudly. This seemed to cause several more geese who had been dabbling on the other side of the cove to come over to our side for the sea lettuce fiesta too. It was weird to see everybody peaceably sharing. Each of the two smaller coves to the south had a very noisy kingfisher calling its ratchety call and diving from low perches. Something about the energy and intensity with which the kingfishers pursued their prey actually made me feel more lively and energetic. And they're so blue amidst all the tawny gold, I felt like I'd stepped into a painting with them. Them and hordes of wigeons and black ducks and mergansers and ... The smallest cove was the one most jam-packed with life. There was so much going on that I could have stayed there all day and just watched.
I also wanted to record a cricket, at least I think it was a cricket, making a buzzy ringing sound from a thicket between the two small coves. It was just so unbelievable to me that a cricket could still be alive in December. I couldn't think of anything else it could be. It would be more unbelievable for a toad to be singing in December when it's supposed to be buried in the earth hibernating. And toads ring but they don't buzz. Must have been a cricket. Maybe it hides out in the Squantum Club kitchen at night or something. On the way back to the car I took a series of photos of the Providence skyline as seen from the bike path so I could piece them together to make a panorama. The view of Providence from East Providence really makes it look like a big city. Once it got too dark to watch the birds doing their thing, we browsed in the Brown Bookstore. Nancy got really into reading some book of music criticism, and I finally picked up the Saint Augustine biography for La Madre for Christmas. There's nothing wrong with my reading it before I wrap it, is there? |
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Everything
is golden and everything is alive. Gold, dun, tan, tawny. I
don't know how many more words for the colors of late autumn
I can think of. It took us two hours to walk from the bike
path entrance at the northern tip of Watchemoket Cove to the
second small cove just past the Squantum Club and back. I'm
not sure what that is in mileage, but it's not far. We just
had to stop and marvel at everything.
We've
been promising ourselves to look closely at oak leaves since
I read aloud an entry from Thoreau's journal about them. I'd
never noticed how much lighter the underside of the leaf is.
Thoreau is right that it's almost white. Oak leaves fit
right in with the late fall color scheme too - that gorgeous
rich brown. When they rustle in the wind it almost sounds
like water falling gently. I found myself wanting to record
the leaves rustling.