Tanya Wagner

We took an old trail today. It’s one I hiked when Grace was newborn and our dog was a golden retriever named Emma. The once familiar path is different now. It bends around fallen trees and diverts to avoid a spot where a chunk of the cliff has fallen into the river below. It’s wild to think that it’s been 17 years since this was my go-to hike.

Spring is painting the woods with color. Tiny, delicate bluets line the trail. Bluebells and trillium and dutchman’s britches glimmer like gems amid emerald leaves. Spring peepers sing, unseen, from ponds and puddles. Redbuds and dogwoods and crab apples are bedecked with flowers.

The great blue herons have returned. The woods are noisy with birdsong again. The woodpeckers’ rat-a-tat rings out through the trees. Muskrats are gathering grass to line their nests. Everywhere you look, life is returning. It’s such a joyful time of year!

It was cold this morning. A wispy mist trailed over the ponds near Rocky River Nature Center. We emerged from the woods and stood, watching for movement on the water or along the banks that might give away a beaver. We were just starting to move away, when Grace grabbed my arm. Beaver!

We see beaver pretty regularly, but this one was right near the bank and mostly out of the water. We had a clear and close up view as he gnawed on a branch and foraged in the mud for tasty morsels. He finally noticed us and swam into a more secluded spot. Fortunately, we could stand above him and continue to observe. Chuck sat down next to me and didn’t move a muscle! Eventually, the cold started getting to us and we had to stand and move around. The beaver looked at us, and slowly slipped into the water and made his away to the lodge.

We spotted an eastern bluebird, its feathers fluffed against the cold. It looked toward the morning sun as if encouraging its warming rays. We watched ducks and geese putter around the pond. A few geese already seem to have claimed nesting spots on little islands of sticks and debris.

We’ve been watching a pair of red tailed hawks preparing their nest and we stopped to see if there was any activity. A passerby told us the nest had been abandoned, but Grace didn’t believe him. She stood, watching with her binoculars, waiting for our friends. Chuck and I wandered up the path a bit. We stood near the bank of the pond not looking at anything in particular. Suddenly, a flurry of wings and fur came flying up the bank and wheeled abruptly right in front of us!

The red tailed hawk was in hot pursuit of a little black squirrel. It had the squirrel in its talons, but somehow the squirrel wriggled free. We watched as the hawk pursued its prey all around a tree. It perched, tilting its head and listening for movement. It swooped down, trying to startle the squirrel into running away. But the squirrel stood its ground. It chirped nervously, and flicked its tail from time to time, but otherwise was very still against the trunk of the tree. Finally, the hawk gave up and took off to pursue another meal.

We got up and out early in hopes of seeing beaver this morning. The sun had just broken the horizon and it was cold. We scoured the marsh but saw no activity. The woods were quiet too. We walked to a spot where I always see at least a few little birds. As we approached, I saw a man walking towards us. He stepped off the trail to a tree stump and then stepped back onto the trail without pausing. When he had passed, I approached the stump and realized that he had deposited a small handful of peanuts into the stump. No wonder I always see birds here! This quiet benefactor is leaving a meal for them.

I stepped away and waited. Before long, the stump was busy with little birds coming and going. White-breasted nuthatches skittered up and down the tree trunk ducking down quickly to grab a nut before darting away. A tufted titmouse perched on a branch nearby to survey the situation before taking his turn at the table. Tiny black-capped chickadees disappeared entirely into the turn before popping out with little bits of food in their beaks. A few larger birds barged in – a red-bellied woodpecker and a cardinal took turns showing off their vibrant plumage, but they didn’t stay long. A sweet little downy woodpecker appeared. It was a treat to see one so close; they are shy and quick. But food trumped fear and so I was able to get a clear close view of his intricate feather pattern and the spot of red on the back of his heat. It was hard to tear myself from this busy spot, but Chuck insisted it was time to go. So, we moved away quietly, leaving the little birds to their feast.

Thick mist shrouded the marsh.  The surface of the water was white with residual ice.  Shimmering wound through where ducks had swum.  Faint outlines of trees hovered on the banks.

A few mallard ducks murmured quietly among the reeds.  Otherwise, the woods were hushed.  Then, I spotted a large shape in a misty treetop.  I zoomed in.  An eagle!  As I tried to focus on it, another swooped in and landed nearby.

We made our way around the marsh to try to get a closer look at the pair.  Bushwhacking with Chuck tethered to my waist is not easy, but we managed to get close enough for a decent view before the birds had enough of our clumsy approach and moved off to a distant perch.