It’s spring, and we are under siege. If you follow my blog you know my house is crawling with builders and plumbers. To escape the cacophony of carpenters, I head out on daily walks with my canine companions. Today we went to Scarborough Marsh.
What we learned is that it’s spring on the marsh too. My first clue arrived wearing a shiny black coat with bright red blazes. The demanding tone of the Red-winged black birds made me feel as if I was supposed to respond. It did nothing, however, to placate their incessant trilling. The loudest calls came from returning geese eagerly gulping hellos to old friends as they skidded in for landings. Once the geese settled, I zeroed in on the familiar melancholy lowing of the mourning doves, as well as the multitudinous hollow-throated yearnings from assorted avian allies.
In the adjacent wood, the unmistakable jack-hammering from woodpeckers and the skittering calls of Marsh Wrens flitting back and forth with bedding materials gave pause to my dog and her brother, who quickly developed whiplash from indecision on the direction to romp.
With the thrashing of a large bird from ground to treetop only yards away, the dogs’ decision was made, and they were off, too late, to capture Thanksgiving dinner a few months early.
Back home now, I am listening to my Pandora radio offering Appalachian picking music and in the not so distant kitchen, a scraper, a sander and a hollow throated carpenter.
What are your spring sounds like?