There’s a lot of noise here!

Red WingIt’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?




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11 Responses to There’s a lot of noise here!

  1. Deb says:

    I think I might have sighted the hollow-throated carpenter in my past travels through construction sites!

  2. joan chandler says:

    What a great question you’ve asked……because it has encouraged me to stop for a moment to relish the hundreds of sounds I take for granted every day.

    I wake up to the irritated yelling of three of my husband’s pals, neighborhood crows saying, “Rod! Where are our bread crumbs?”
    I go from room to room, to the yard, to and from the car, all the while listening to the puttputt of the snow blower, as it runs for an entire day so it can be put away with an empty gas tank.
    Our neighbors’ dogs Strika, the Husky and Nova, the Kelpie bark and whine happily, and their toenails click across the floor, as I visit them with a treat and let them outside for a midday break.
    The myriad sounds accompanying the adventures of my friends The Wild Women: “Stop! Go back!” from someone in the back seat who has spotted a trillium or hepatica, a spectacular view, a place where food may be found; the click of cameras; popcorn popping at a local theater; walking sticks hitting the soft earth; walking sticks hitting leaf-carpeted trails; shaky voices discussing a recent family loss; happy noises from chuckles to silly giggles to raucous laughter.
    The hand cultivator moving soil as I try to locate flowers under the weeds and last fall’s dead stalks.
    The creaking and groaning of my knees, hips, and back after my day in the garden.
    Delmonico steaks sizzling on the grill.
    As I prepare supper, I hear heroic adventures wafting from the living room – Gene Autry, Have Gun, Will Travel, The Rifleman, M*A*S*H.
    Comforting soft noises of wind in the pine trees, and rain peppering the metal bulkhead beneath my bedroom window.
    Pages turning as I relax on the porch reading a novel by (for instance) Lee Child.
    Familiar satisfying sounds from my favorite teams – the crowd, the crack of the bat, the play-by-play announcers trying to stifle laughs, “Sweet Caroline”; and skates cutting the ice, the whoomph of men propelled into the side of the rink, Rene Rancourt singing The National Anthem, the voice of my son calling from 80 miles away to discuss the game.
    Clinking ice cubes in my nightly cranberry juice.
    Spring peepers from the swamp across the road.

    No hollow-throated birds OR carpenters – but occasionally the scratchy-throated calls of the Spring Allergy-Sufferers.


  3. Mary-Jane Wright says:

    Overriding sound is of ocean waves.
    To my delight I have spotted several blue birds on the golf course. It would be a test to capture that color blue with a paint brush.

  4. Sally, With every word written I felt like I was walking right along with
    you, through the marsh and hearing all the beautiful bird songs .
    Great writing !

  5. Sounds of Spring? Lawn mowing in distance, Dylan playing basketball, Bella panting while trying to catch lizards outside, my “wonderful” voice singing Jewel & Adele songs but the best of all? Myself at The Veranda Spa laying on the massage bed while Heather – my masseuse manipulates all my aching bones & inflamed knee caps while listening to Tribal Flute Music! 🙂

  6. Karen Konicki says:

    The symphony begins at first light.
    The Robin begins the 1st movement as he exhalts the new day. The Sparrows begin to twitter, with the Starlings adding the chorus.
    Passing Blue Jays and Cardinals chime in, with the occasional Mocking Bird as guest soloist.
    During the migration time unexpected guests arrive to ” sit in”–a Yellow Warbler looking like a tennis ball in the Elm, a Northern Flicker trilling while rooting through plant boxes, and an utterly exhausted and silentGolden Crowned Kinglet.
    I savor it all, though I cannot speak for my East Village neighbors. For them, the term ” wild life” may have an entirely different meaning…….

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