Brian Kanowsky

Cool, overcast morning with an intermittent slight drizzle. Managed 3.3 miles for my morning walk.

It took a few minutes for my ears to adjust to the sound this morning. The red-winged blackbirds drowned everyone else out, even the mournful killdeer and the song sparrows, whose large voices never quite seem to fit their tiny bodies. One brave robin tried to outsing the blackbirds, winning through perseverance if not volume. Four evenly-spaced steel posts, marking the aspirations of some future homeowner, were each topped by a blackbird. Their red epaulets lined up in perfect military formation, a stunning symmetry of nature and artifice.

I stopped to watch the acrobatic chipping sparrows leaping from branch to branch, seemingly never unfolding their wings. Sleek tree swallows darted across the path above my head. The cardinals seem to have retreated from their sentry positions of early spring, ceding ground to the blackbirds and robins. But their orange beaks and bright chip notes still poked through the increasingly green banks of the creek. A single blue jay clucked as he looked me over, then decided I wasn’t interesting enough, he turned and flew to the other bank.

The beavers have altered the flow of the creek in such a dramatic way over the past year or so. With all the recent rains, the water was running high and quick — until it hit the curve just before the dam. Suddenly, the creek tuned smooth and calm enough for a single mallard to float peacefully in place. The thicket of trees near the dam, usually host to some of the more reclusive birds around here, held only a single downy woodpecker and a timidly mewing catbird.

The park was full of robins gorging themselves on the buffet of worms forced to the surface by the rains. The weather has also brought out the eerie, gelatinous tendrils of cedar-apple rust on some of the trees. Aside from the robins and a few cowbirds, though, the park was empty. It was just me and a single mockingbird, taking up his usual place as greeter at the entrance to the park.

On the way back, I saw a crow nab a french fry from the side of the road. He flew low and fast to the other side of the road to eat, suspiciously eyeing a curious killdeer who darted closer.

There’s still no sign of the green herons, either in their usual hunting spots or their nesting site of the past 2 years. I think it was May before they showed up last year, so I’ll have to keep waiting.

Not much in the way of non-avian life this morning. The loop around the park, usually full of loud and aggressive squirrels, was strangely quiet this morning. I did see one red squirrel hopping down a residential sidewalk, and a large muskrat in one of the ponds.

Walked about 3.1 miles this morning – overcast, but not too cold despite the dusting of snow last night.

Happened across a flock of juncos flittering about a clearing, and noticed a purple finch watching them from a nearby bush. A couple of titmice flew from branch to branch overhead, and a nuthatch bobbed down the trunk of one of the larger trees.

Saw the fat cardinal in his bush again, and the cluster of bushes behind him was blazing with the bright red feathers and neon orange beaks of other cardinals, cheeping background vocals to his loud song. The cardinals were out in force this morning, singing loudly from tall branches and chirping from the underbrush.

The mud was frozen enough that I could walk out by the beaver dam, which has seemingly doubled in size since I last saw it. Lots of fresh deer tracks in the snow around the banks of the creek, and a skittish bluebird tried to stay one tree ahead of me as I walked forward.

Then I walked down to the park, and saw a couple of enormous chattering crows preening themselves on branches over the creek. A blue jay, seemingly annoyed with the cavorting squirrels, did his best hawk impersonation, screaming and swooping down in their direction. The squirrels scurried for cover, while another blue jay nonchalantly went on digging through the dead leaves on the ground. I heard a red-bellied woodpecker, and when I finally spotted him, I noticed that the tree to his left held a small downy woodpecker, while the tree to his right hosted a couple of nuthatches.

The doctor ordered more walking, and so I play the role of a dutiful patient.

Yesterday afternoon, the wife and I walked about 1.8 miles. Again saw many crows in the sky, joining their small flocks together. Also saw a lone pair of mallards and a number of bluebirds. Watched a red-tailed hawk glide over the trees, and a vulture wobble on a low breeze, searching for a thermal.

This evening, I managed about 2.8 miles despite the cold wind, and the road that alternated between slick ice patches and shoe-sucking mud. A whole neighborhood of cardinals exchanged terse cheeps from their claimed braches, and a large rabbit splashed across the creek when I got too close. Watched a vulture make his last passes over the field before dusk settled, and a lone whitetail deer tracked me with her satellite-dish ears. Watched a couple of mallards splash down in the pond, and when I got closer I saw that there were at least a dozen pair of the ducks swimming together, trying to stay warm.

Managed only about 1.4 miles this afternoon, as it started snowing midway through my walk.

A cold, gray, and snowy afternoon makes for a very quiet walk, but I did see a couple of song sparrows and a solitary cardinal, who chipped in alarm as I approached. Watched a couple of geese flying low, and several smaller groups of crows flying back and forth as they merged into a large murder.

Foggy (and chilly) morning for a walk, but managed 1.75 miles.

In addition to the usual suspects – titmice, sparrows, crows, and doves – I saw a red-tailed hawk, several bluebirds, a downy woodpecker, a yellow-bellied sapsucker, and what I’m guessing was a towhee, although I don’t often see them in winter. Also saw the fattest cardinal I’d ever seen. In the pond, a pair of mallards and a skittish, large muskrat with a mouthful of leaves.