November Birds

It has been a busy month at the sunflower seed and chopped peanut feeders outside of our kitchen window. A small flock, upwards of eight birds, of titmouse have regularly inhabited the bushes beneath the feeders. Chickadees and Wrens have been plentiful as well. Meanwhile, the abundance of blue jays continued their presence along the tree line in the back, as well as a murder of crows (eight), until all the leaves had fallen from the trees. Early in the month, pair of northern flickers were digging for food in the back. Although I had seen a couple of on the CVRT this month, I did not see a mockingbird in the backyard until late in the month, in fact the day after we put out mealworms to attract bluebirds for December.

While walking the neighborhood, a Cooper’s hawk has been hanging around the last few months in the vicinity of Chestnut Drive and Hickory Lane. I spotted it on a low branch of a maple tree mid-month, but it quickly flew away as I approached. The real surprise was on a bleak, dreary, and overcast Sunday (22 November), I was walking near Pin Oak and Partridge Trail and saw a rather large bird flying overhead. As it got closer, nearly flying directly overhead, I could barely make out the white head of a bald eagle as it flew toward South Mountain.

 

European Starling on the CVRT 

Backyard

• Cardinal, Northern 
• Chickadee, Carolina
• Crow, American
• Flicker, Northern
• House Finch
• Jay, Blue
• Junco, Dark-eyed
• Mockingbird, Northern
• Nuthatch, White-breasted
• Robin, American 
• Sparrow, House
• Sparrow, White-throated
• Titmouse, Tufted
• Woodpecker, Downy
• Woodpecker, Red Bellied
• Wren, Carolina

 Neighborhood

• Dove, Mourning
• Eagle, Bald
• Hawk, Cooper’s
• Starling, European

Cumberland Valley Rail Trail

• Bluebird, Eastern 
• Hawk, Red-tailed
• Sparrow, White-crowned
• Vulture, Turkey
• Woodpecker, Hairy

 Further afield

• Cormorants, Double Crested [C&O Canal]
• Heron, Great Blue [Newburg and C&O canal]
• Kingfisher [C&O Canal]
• Vulture, Black [C&O Canal]

 

In all, 16 species in the backyard and 23 species overall. 

 

June on the C&O Canal Towpath

The return to the towpath, after three months of staying close to home because of the pandemic, was a difficult decision. But because I was in the most remote area of the C&O Canal, and I would minimize the interaction with other people, I decided to have some exploration during this COVID summer. What I did not realize was that the trail was so remote that it proved difficult to access. 

Exiting I-68, I had difficulty believing my GPS, which said that Bonds Landing was twelve miles away, but it would take 42 minutes to arrive. I was sure it could not be that long, and that it would correct itself as I got closer. If anything, the GPS was optimistic. What I did not realize was traveling though Green Ridge State Forest would be on narrow gravel roads, fording three steams on Carroll and Kasecamp roads, and dodging potholes that were capable of swallowing small cars. As nerve wracking as it was to drive, it was a fascinating journey with an old cemetery, stunning vistas, deer, and mosquitoes. 

The towpath was lush, and the undergrowth full. Within five minutes of beginning my walk I nearly stepped on an eastern ratsnake sunning itself. It is a reminder, early on, that I have not been on the trail in three months. This is not the same as walking in the neighborhood. Whenever I see a ratsnake, at first glance, I think it is a tree branch that has fallen across the path. But the curvature is a giveaway. It is the largest and most common snake in Maryland. Although it is nonpoisonous, its bite can be quite painful. 

I have been reading Peter Wohlleben’s seminal book, The Hidden Livers of Trees, in which he argues that our concept of life, communication, and cooperation is so deeply rooted in our own experience, it is difficult to conceive how other living things might experience the same things. We cannot adequately communicate with trees to determine if they contemplate experiences and relationships, thus we do not know if they have experiences like animals. But his description of how communities of trees share resources, help one another, and have knowledge to heal themselves certainly forces me consider trees differently. Walking along the edge of the canal, one becomes conscience of the number of trees that have succumbed. Often, you can find dead trees leaning against neighbors. It is almost as if the neighbors are cradling their dead neighbors in their comrade's repose. Looking at the remains of one tree resting against two neighbors, I was reminded of the Pennsylvania Railroad War Memorial at 30th Street Station in Philadelphia. The bronze statue, which honors those railroad workers who died during the Second World War, depicts the Archangel St. Michael supporting a lifeless body is a moving tribute. Perhaps trees do not grieve, but a long examination of nature can remind us of how we are part of something larger than ourselves. 

As I finished the month, there is a sense of excitement because I am less than twenty miles from the upstream terminus of the towpath at Cumberland, Maryland. Yet, it is sad that this portion of the journey is coming to an end. During the four trips to the towpath this month, I have encountered few other walkers, except for some near the aqueducts. It makes walking during the pandemic more socially responsible. But like many other things during a pandemic, it is an experience with minimal human interaction. This lack of interaction is not good for our mental health. It is tiring, but the regenerative powers of nature are still present. 

Cody meeting me as I neared the end of my 9.5 mile walk

Roby Cemetery 

Yellow-billed Cuckoo

Paw Paw Tunnel

Town Creek Aqueduct 

Orchard Oriole

Lock 68

Least Flycatcher

Oldtown Toll Bridge

Backyard Explorations (late April)

Jonathan Franzen has said that birds are humans’ constant companion; they are everywhere. Little do we realize they provide a soundtrack to our life. Whether we know it or not, their songs, cries, calls, and activities are constantly with us, especially while outside. When I wake up in the morning, the sound of birds fills the air. At night, the gentle call of owls, which I never see, echo through the otherwise quiet night.

As April wears on, the foliage of the back of our property begins to fill out. During the first year after we first moved into our house, Patricia saw lights in the distance of the beyond the trees and field that adjacent to the train tracks. She looked at the lights and sighed slightly and commented on “the lovely lights of the city.” I gently told her that it was Walmart. We laughed. The lights of the city are one of the private ways we measure the changing of the seasons. Angie looked out the back window and noted that the lights of the city are gradually fading.

Downy Woodpeckers – While walking it is difficult to distinguish between the downy and hairy woodpeckers. Their plumages look remarkably similar; however, the downy are a little smaller, measuring about six inches in length, as opposed to the nine inches of a hairy woodpecker. Harder to see from a distance is that the bill of the downy is shorter and thinner to that of the hairy.

Angie put out the hummingbird feeder to attract scouts that should be arriving in our area soon. We moved the suet feeder, usually stocked with cakes that attract woodpeckers, to the bedroom side of the house. The next day a downy was coming to the sunflower seed feeder to take a single seed and retreat to the tree line. I wanted to explain that the feeder for her and the other woodpeckers had moved about 25 feet away.

I watched a pair of down woodpeckers, a male and a female, seemingly play a game of hide and seek around the truck of a tree in the front yard. As one moved around the trunk, the other kept diametrically opposed, as each gradually got further off the ground. When they reached the branches, first one, then the other, floated back down to the ground to start again. I watched them scale the tree three times before flying off into the backyard.

Nesting robin on Longview Drive

American Robins – They seem to be everywhere during the spring months in Pennsylvania, but they do not go anywhere, American robins are just more noticeable. They are ubiquitous. Every yard seems to have robins searching for food or sparring over territory. Angie likes to say that they are “love drunk.” It may be an apt description. During the spring robins take chances and do foolish things. It is not uncommon to see the bodies of robins who have been hit by cars or met with other disaster. I would say more often than other species that are commonly seen here.

A discarded robin's egg. 

Sometimes I think there are so many that pairs have difficulties finding a place to build a nest. For a couple of years, we had a female trying to build a nest on the topside of the motor housing of our outside ceiling fan on the back porch. Even with wind, the nest was problematic as the motor assembly is rounded. When the wind blows, and the blades of the fan start to turn, what remained of the straw and grass ended up on the porch. On our walks through the neighborhood this spring, Angie spied a robin nesting on a utility box of the side of the house. The nest is strategically located beneath the overhang of the roof, she and her nest are protected north winds as strong showers have meant for a cool, wet and dreary season. I have been checking on her during my daily walks and it appears that the chicks may have hatched by late April since it is the first time that I have not seen her on the nest in more than a week. In the neighborhood, if we look down, hatched light blue eggs can be found everywhere.

Northern Mockingbird

I enjoy watching robins scour yards for food. With their heads cocked at an angle, folklore suggested that the birds were listening for worms. But the head parallel to the ground allows them to see much better.

Northern Mockingbirds – I have come to admire mockingbirds, with their outgoing personality and seeming oblivion to anything else. It is amusing to watch northern mockingbirds struggle with the suet feeders.

Carolina Chickadee

Carolina Chickadees – The species, which is prevalent in southern Pennsylvania, is indistinguishable from the black-capped chickadee, except in song. The two birds will mate with one another where their areas overlap.

Brown Thrashers – The males of the species have the largest documented song repertoire in North America with over a thousand songs. They are not frequent visitors to our backyard, but I did manage to catch a glimpse of one, on the ground, near our feeder.

Angie gave me a bee nester for my birthday, which I hung it in the apple tree to see what happens. It is designed for native bee species that are primarily for pollinators rather than generating honey. Regardless of whether bees will find and use it, currently it is aesthetically pleasing.

Late one Sunday morning, a pair of wild turkeys apparently wandered through our backyard. We did not see the pair, but our neighbors (Tom and Kay) direct messaged Angie to alert us. Alas, she did not see the message until the evening. But I find myself taking a peek at the backyard on the off chance that they make another appearance.

White-throated Sparrow

20 species observed: American Crow, American Goldfinch, American Robin, Blue Jay, Brown Thrasher, Carolina Chickadee, Carolina Wren, Common Grackle, Downy Woodpecker, European Starling, House Finch, House Sparrow, Mourning Dove, Northern Cardinal, Northern Mockingbird, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Tree Swallow, Tufted Titmouse, White-breasted Nuthatch, White-throated Sparrow.

Apple blossoms 

A female cardinal in our apple tree

The Moon and Venus in the evening sky

Exploring the Backyard (Easter Week)

Pip watching the birds Easter morning

On Easter morning, Pip and I were sitting at the kitchen table and our attention was drawn to the multiple birds flocking around our feeders outside our windows. With our stay at home orders, explorations must occur closer to home. Over the course of the week, I kept track of the birds in the backyard, counting seventeen species. 

A male house finch

House Finch – By far the most common bird at our feeders is the house finch, a social bird that congregates as small groups just outside our kitchen window. I watched a male pluck a sunflower seed from the feeder and place it in a female’s mouth, which is one of the mating rituals among house finches. The cats, especially Pip and Coco, like to sit on the windowsill or dining room table and watch these small active birds. While they do not stir as much excitement as some of the larger birds, such as the mockingbirds, Coco, in particular, intently watches the coming and goings of the house finches. Originally from the western North America, the house finches were introduced to Long Island, New York in the 1940s. It was estimated that approximately 100,000 house finches were captured in California and shipped to pet shops along the east coast in contravention of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. When word got out that a major raid by federal government agents was about to happen, set the birds known as Hollywood Finches free. Since that time, the bird has spread throughout the east coast of the United States.

Northern Cardinal – I always enjoy seeing cardinals in the winter, with their bright colors standing out against the snow and dun-colored foliage. Last week, we found a dead female cardinal on our front porch. She was a beautiful specimen. It looked like she had died midflight, perhaps flying into our sidelight windows.

White-throated sparrow

White-throated Sparrow – These are cute little birds, with a small bright yellow spot on either side of their beak. These sparrows are usually only in our part of Pennsylvania during the winter month, but with cooler weather several have stuck around. There are two variations of the white-throated sparrow, either white or tan stripes on their head. Studies indicate that the birds primarily mate within their variation. Although the white-striped version is more prevalent in our backyard, I have seen at least one pair of tan-striped sparrows around our feeders. 

Northern Mockingbird

American Crows – I hear several crows high above when I am filling the bird feeders, but they mainly inhabit the trees that a fair distance from our house. On Saturday morning I watched a blue jay and crow battle it out between the trees that line the railroad tracks in the back.

Carolina Wren – Watching a specific wren, I noticed he would fly to the bottom of the bushes and then would hop from hop from branch to branch to make his way to feeders. I suspect that this feels safer than exposing itself to potential predators.

Other species observed this week: White-breasted Nuthatch, American Robin, Common Grackle, Mourning Dove, Northern Mockingbird, European Starling, American Goldfinch, Black-capped Chickadee, Blue Jay, House Sparrow, Downy Woodpecker, Red-bellied Woodpecker.  

Coco watching a female house finch, up close and personal

Loss, Memory and Identity

The Western Facade of Notre Dame de Paris
May 2001

The fire at Notre Dame on 15 April 2019 was devastating, nearly destroying the ancient cathedral. I have been in the church several times and that afternoon my first thought was maybe I had not taken enough photographs. But in the following days I learned that Notre Dane had been systematically photographed and digitized. Perhaps my inclination to catalog sites and places would be better served in other, less familiar places.

Six weeks later, I had the chance to walk along the Seine and see the damage for myself. The twelfth century structure remained unsafe. People sat and stared in disbelief. The near destruction of an iconic building, well over 800 years old, startled people; it was a stark reminder of the transient nature of all things. It would be rebuilt. Its memory would continue to be cherished. It would remain a part of our collective identity, even if we were not French or Catholic.

Yet a year on, the great fire seems like a distance footnote to those of us who are not in Paris. The COVID-19 virus has disrupted life wreaking havoc not just on a building but on the entire society and much of the world. The gargoyles perched around Notre Dame seem to look down on the city and the world

Notre Dame: late May 2019

Isolation

Art is an integral part of any society. It defines us, explains our values, and what is important. It also helps us to celebrate, as well as provides solace in times of trouble. Art is often relegated to the back pages of most newspaper. Politics, business and finance take centerstage, helping to shift our focus. Yet, art endures. At first, you might think that art is only in museums, yet it our music, television, films. It is the rainbows drawn by children, the verses we jot down, and the items we make.

How many countries regularly published poetry on the front pages of their national newspapers? With the onset of the COVID-19 in Ireland, the Irish Times published on its front page a poem by Gerard Smyth, reflecting on the isolation that many people felt as a result of social distancing. We are not alone in our feelings, and it is a time for reflection. 

Snow Geese at Middle Creek

Seeing large numbers of anything is impressive. In a time in which much of the ecosystem is imperiled, observing an extraordinarily large number of snow geese wintering in rural Pennsylvania offers hope for the future of birds and animals. Nature is resilient, yet the lake at the Middle Creek Management Area, along the borders of Lancaster and Lebanon counties, were created when a dam was built in the 1970. The geese, which once used the east coast as navigation, have moved further inland as development has reduced feeding areas. The phenomenon of extraordinary numbers of birds gathering in central Pennsylvania is a reaction to human pursuits. 

Tundra Swans

In February the snow geese and tundra swans, as well as numerous humans, congregate at the wildlife management area near the small village of Stevens. People who have not walked any distance in quite some time, trudge a three-quarter mile path to see more than 100,000 snow geese occupying the reservoir. Slightly dwarfed by the showcase geese, families of tundra swan that nest in Alaska and northern Canada, gather and rest for a few days of rest on other parts of the reservoir lake. Although there are far more geese, the number of swans can reach an impressive 10,000 birds at a time. 

The close proximity to so many birds is humbling. It is almost as if the geese are nearly tame, yet they are not exactly ready to cozy up to people.  Even a small toddler, rambunctious and reckless as he is, gets remarkably close to the geese scouring the grass. The geese are not easily spooked but mosey off if humans (or dogs) venture too close.

What photographs, and even videos, cannot capture is the sound of a multitude of birds simultaneously calling. Even from across the lake, the sound ebbs and flows, like a wave that alerts us to the presence of nature. Watching the intricate motions of collective of geese, much like a murmuration of starlings, is compelling. Are eyes deceive us to pay attention to the whole, while missing the actions of the individual. 

Walking on the Great Allegheny Passage

While my focus continues to be on completing the C&O Towpath, it is intriguing to think about other long walks. The Great Allegheny Passage takes the up where the C&O leaves off in Cumberland, Maryland and completes a 150-mile, non-motorized trail, to Pittsburgh. Walking in the trail in the Pittsburgh area is a step back in time, mixing the beauty of the Monongahela River with the remnants of the city’s industrial history.

Homestead Grays Bridge

Approximately seven miles upriver from downtown Pittsburgh, Homestead was once a vibrant working class and immigrant hub. Today, some of the riverfront has been revitalized into commercial ventures but just a few blocks away the poverty of post-industrial blight remains. Walking from the Waterfront, a shopping and entertainment complex built on the site of steel mills and railroad terminals, the walker is at first confronted with the hurly-burly of shoppers and traffic. The Monongahela is tranquil, but the evidence of a turbulent past is all around. The foundations and rusting structures visible evidence of the steel mills that dotted the riverfront; the moorings of docks, rusting and overgrown, no doubt dangerous, are fenced off from those who walk, jog or bike passed.

Birds thrive along the river and many can be seen along the path, even on a late winter day. Frenetic robins have begun their spring mating rituals a little early this year. Mallards and Canada geese gently swim or mosey away if you approach too closely. Songbirds gleefully tweet but use the undergrowth, shorn of foliage, still provide ample cover from potential predators.

Between mile markers 139 and 140, the Pump House was a part of the U.S. Steel Homestead Steel Works and is now an interpretive center for the 1892 Homestead Strike Memorial. The strike was a defining clash between steelworkers and industrial management, pitting the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers (AA) against the Carnegie Steel Company with its local operator, Henry Clay Frick. Company under Frick sought to break the union in Homestead, introducing non-union clauses into the workers contract, leading to a confrontation when the existing collective bargaining contract expired. On 1 July 1892, Frick locked out workers who moved to keep the plant closed through surveillance and picket lines, attempting to deny the company an opportunity to employ replacement workers. The standoff resulted in a pitched battle between the union and Pinkerton agents on 6 July, when Pinkerton agents attempted to land a boat on the grounds of the plant from the Monongahela. Shots erupted and a ten-minute gunfight ensued. The governor of Pennsylvania sent the state militia to restore order. The strike melted away as workers, primary East European immigrants, crossed the picket line. The incident broke the AA; by 1900 not a singled steel plant in Pennsylvania would remain unionized.

One of the interesting things about Pittsburgh is the proliferation of ethnic clubs in the area. In Homestead, the Hungarian Social Club is visible from the trail, but appears to be closed.

Upriver from the commercial sector, the path turns away from the river slightly to circumnavigate businesses that still have property adjacent to the Monongahela. I walk around struggling steel plants and abandoned outbuildings, on East 8th Avenue. The trail leans back to the river where it squeezes between the Monongahela and lightly used railroad tracks. Walking through this area, seemingly a forgotten section of the concrete and trash, there is a temptation to feel vulnerable. A chain link fence ostensibly denies access to the Carrie Furnace Hot Metal Bridge; however, the sizable hole and graffiti on the bridge suggest that it does not do a good job. Constructed in 1900, the bridge has not seen railroad traffic in quite some time.

Rails leading to the Carrie Furnace Hot Metal Bridge

Walking During Social Distancing (March)

Pictures from the beginning of coronavirus pandemic in March 2020



Cumberland Valley Rail Trail 

CVRT near mile marker 3

Farm on Smithdale Road from the trail 

American Robin

Mourning Dove 

Rocky Knob Trail 

Gilbert Road 

First Pennsylvania Wildflowers