Mute Swans
This winter the Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC) of New York State announced that they were going to eliminate the 2,200 Mute Swans living in the State by 2025. I have a visceral reaction to any killing—spiders wander my house unharmed—but it’s not just because I’m a goofy animal lover that I don’t like this plan. Making decisions about what is best for the environment—are we really so good at that?
Here are the reasons why the DEC has decided on this move—which has caused an outcry throughout the state, the country and even the world. A friend from Australia sent a link to a story in their papers about this plan, making us Yanks out to be pretty cruel!
Morning on the River
Juvenile Bald EagleFall migration is underway. Lots of intriguing birds will pass through—although less brightly colored and less tuneful than in spring. What I hope for here in the Hudson Valley is the chance of seeing shorebirds. A few have been appearing—last weekend Black Bellied Plovers at Greig Farm. So as I headed onto the river this Sunday morning I had high hopes for what might be flying or floating through.
The weather report claimed rain and the sky over the Catskills loomed gray, but electric. I stroked to the Western shore of the river and wove through the water chestnut mat. A Spotted Sandpiper bobbed about and a dozen Great Blue Herons posed in the shallow water.
Little Blue
Mature Little Blue--seen in KansasI was birding the South Tivoli Bay with my friend, the biologist and ornithologist, Bruce Robertson. Birding with Bruce added another dimension to birding as he is filled with excellent bird information, which he gleefully transmits as we walk through the woods. He was describing shifts in gender roles for the Spotted Sandpiper, which we had just seen bobbing along the muddy edges of the bay. The females fight for territory, and to win the males. Once she lays her eggs, she leaves them for the male to incubate and to raise the young.
“Cool,” I said. I love it when nature confounds what is expected (and in the process confounds the biologists as well).
Hirondelle
Odette's barnWhen I am in Estampes, I can time my days to Odette’s movement: 8 in the morning she lets out the chickens, and the sheep, gives water to the rabbits. 7 At night and she’s back again, watering, feeding, bringing in her creatures for the night. On this evening as I follow her through the routine, I’m paying particular attention. I’m in charge of all of this the next morning as Odette has an early doctor’s appointment. Odette has rarely left her animals to anyone so I want to get it right. Water for the rabbits; don’t forget to shut the barn door behind the sheep. It’s all very simple, but I feel like I’m being entrusted with the most important job.
As we step into the barn to put down hay for the sheep, a barn swallow swoops through the open door. Swallows, with their white bellies and long forked tails are obvious all day long as they wing about chattering in elegant loops and dives. Inside the dark barn a dozen mud-formed nests cling to the wooden rafters. Strings of straw dangle from cobwebs nearby in this nearly abandoned barn. The space between nest and the ceiling is narrow—just enough for a swallow head.