Trail Wood #79 Earl Plato
Ed Teale headed quickly to where the crow mobbing was taking place on that April 16th. “ I hurry through the woods toward Old Cabin Hill and the center of the clamor. As I draw nearer I slow down to a silent, stealthy approach, hoping to observe the activity of the attackers or perhaps even catch a glimpse of the harassed owl. But other eyesight is keener than mine. Suddenly a change occurs in the cawing. A new note enters in. I have been sighted among the trees - a man, a greater menace than an owl. The din of the birds moves away. It dissipates as it goes, subsiding into a ragged cawing of single crows.”
Writer’s note: I have walked a few of the paths of Trail Wood in 2007. That was a lasting thrill. By sharing some of Edwin Way Teale’s daily walks I hope you appreciate the man and his astute observations in Nature at his Trail Wood sanctuary. Earl Plato’s e-mail - plato1@cogeco.ca
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Teale's Teale - Death of s mother!
Trail Wood #78 Earl Plato
The crows at Stevensville Conservation Park were so loud as they circled the Great Horned owl in their mobbing scene. “Get out of our neighbourhood!,” they cried. The owl eventually flew eastwards with the crows pursuing. Soon all was quiet. I remember it well. Edwin Teale cited another mobbing scene that ended quite differently. We read: “ Ten miles from here, one recent year, two young men were fishing in the Natchaug Rive when they heard a even greater tumult in the neighboring woods. Their approach dispersed the clamorous throng of excited crows. The birds had discovered a Great horned owl on its nest. This large bird of prey, a creature as fierce as a wildcat, had been pecked to death by the crows. It might have escaped by flight but, rather than desert its two nearly fledged young, it remained, bearing the full assault of the attacking storm of birds. The two young owls, perching on a limb near the nest were rescued and turned over to a conservation officer to be cared for until they were ready for release. They too, would have been killed in a few moments except for the timely arrival of the fishermen.
The crows at Stevensville Conservation Park were so loud as they circled the Great Horned owl in their mobbing scene. “Get out of our neighbourhood!,” they cried. The owl eventually flew eastwards with the crows pursuing. Soon all was quiet. I remember it well. Edwin Teale cited another mobbing scene that ended quite differently. We read: “ Ten miles from here, one recent year, two young men were fishing in the Natchaug Rive when they heard a even greater tumult in the neighboring woods. Their approach dispersed the clamorous throng of excited crows. The birds had discovered a Great horned owl on its nest. This large bird of prey, a creature as fierce as a wildcat, had been pecked to death by the crows. It might have escaped by flight but, rather than desert its two nearly fledged young, it remained, bearing the full assault of the attacking storm of birds. The two young owls, perching on a limb near the nest were rescued and turned over to a conservation officer to be cared for until they were ready for release. They too, would have been killed in a few moments except for the timely arrival of the fishermen.
It's Mob Time
VVTrail Wood #77 Earl Plato Mobbing. What do you know about mobbing? I have seen a Great horned owl being mobbed in Stevnsville Conservation Park. Quite a sensational happening.
Edwin Teale at Trail Wood shared this mobbing scene in mid-April.
“ In an arrow-straight course, cawing as it flies, a crow passes over me. Other crows are labouring over the pond, 0ver the lane, over the Star field - all leading in the same direction. Their destination is marked by a raucous uproar, the harsh commingled cawing of many birds. I glimpse a dozen or more black shapes swirling in flight above the treetops to the west. Somewhere near Old Cabin Hill the crows are mobbing an owl.”
Edwin Teale at Trail Wood shared this mobbing scene in mid-April.
“ In an arrow-straight course, cawing as it flies, a crow passes over me. Other crows are labouring over the pond, 0ver the lane, over the Star field - all leading in the same direction. Their destination is marked by a raucous uproar, the harsh commingled cawing of many birds. I glimpse a dozen or more black shapes swirling in flight above the treetops to the west. Somewhere near Old Cabin Hill the crows are mobbing an owl.”
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Onrushing spring
Trail Wood #76 Earl Plato
“Onrushing spring” at Trail Wood
“ Beside the stone walls, in the weed tangles, along Hampton Brook, in the woods, in wide meadows under the open sky - everywhere Nellie and I turn on this sun-filled mid-April day, we walk amid signs of onrushing spring.
Song sparrows sing from bush tops. Redwings flash the scarlet of their epaulets when they land. Earthworm castings dot the open spaces, Mole tunnels meander under the meadow grass. Pussy willows, no longer silver, shine with the gold of ripened pollen. Cowbirds spread their wings an posture in mating performances. Quail call from old stone walls. Fish break the sheen of the pond. Near the waterfall the early blooming chick weed unfolds the minute petals of its diminutive white flowers. Along the warmer southern side of the lowlands and walls I find the false hellebore spreading the ribbed apple-green of its leaves.
On such a day as this you can feel spring, you can see spring, you can smell spring, hear spring, taste spring. You respond with your senses to the multiform manifestations of change into which the awakening plunges you/”
“Onrushing spring” at Trail Wood
“ Beside the stone walls, in the weed tangles, along Hampton Brook, in the woods, in wide meadows under the open sky - everywhere Nellie and I turn on this sun-filled mid-April day, we walk amid signs of onrushing spring.
Song sparrows sing from bush tops. Redwings flash the scarlet of their epaulets when they land. Earthworm castings dot the open spaces, Mole tunnels meander under the meadow grass. Pussy willows, no longer silver, shine with the gold of ripened pollen. Cowbirds spread their wings an posture in mating performances. Quail call from old stone walls. Fish break the sheen of the pond. Near the waterfall the early blooming chick weed unfolds the minute petals of its diminutive white flowers. Along the warmer southern side of the lowlands and walls I find the false hellebore spreading the ribbed apple-green of its leaves.
On such a day as this you can feel spring, you can see spring, you can smell spring, hear spring, taste spring. You respond with your senses to the multiform manifestations of change into which the awakening plunges you/”
Friday, April 10, 2009
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