Signs of spring are everywhere. Tiny buds are showing on woody branches, softening their stark outlines. We were thrilled to see a mama eagle sitting on her nest. Her mate was close by, standing guard. A muskrat was busy in the canal. It won’t be long before we see them toting grasses to line their nests.

In an open field, we spotted a coyote on the hunt. We crept quietly toward him and he paid us no mind for awhile. Finally, we drew too near. He turned and stared at us before trotting off towards the woods, annoyed at our interruption. Now that we know where he hunts, we are hatching a grand stakeout!

Geese gather along the river’s edge watching chunks of ice float by in the small patches of slow moving water.  Every now and then something stirs them up and they take to the sky with a flurry of wings and indignant honks.

It’s not just sound that is muted.  Color is soft as well.  The sky is watercolor blue with wisps of white.  Dried grasses stand golden and fragile along the path.  We spot a few eastern bluebirds.  Their puffed out feathers are a subdued blue-gray and the red breast is a faint rust color.

On the path just ahead of us, a pair of deer step out of the bushes.  They seem surprised to see us.  Their coats are thick and wooly and they stand staring for a minute before darting away.

At a bend in the river, we come to a spot where the water is clear of ice.  I spot an eagle and then another and another!  Some appear to be juveniles.  Some might be couples.  They are everywhere!  For a long time we watch them swoop from tree to tree.  Their massive yellow claws and bright beaks are startling against the white bark of the sycamores and the snowy backdrop.

We move on, hugging the riverbank.  I can see little footpaths leading down to the ice.  We come to another place where there is a patch of running water.  A quick movement at the edge of the ice draws my eye.  It’s a dark critter emerging from the water.  An otter climbs onto the ice, a fish in its mouth!  Another swims along the edge.  It slides in and out of the water so smoothly and gracefully.

I am so happy!  For me, these encounters are like celebrity sightings.  I feel lucky to have seen and spent time with these special creatures.  And I’m grateful for the seasons that reveal special wonders year round.

Along the canal, white tree trunks reached up like clawed hands to scratch the belly of the sky. Across the river, a variegated forest stood, mysterious. We stopped to watch a cardinal on the far side of the canal. We heard the crunch of leaves as a small herd of deer marched single file through the undergrowth. Every now and then, we spotted a head or hoof, but they stayed out of sight for the most part.

I turned to scan the river and spotted an eagle perched low on the far bank. As I watched him, another mature eagle swooped down and soared up the river and out of site. Chuck and I watched the remaining eagle for a long time. We were lucky to see it leave its perch and fly up to sit in clear view in the branches of a towering sycamore. Finally, it took flight and disappeared with a few powerful flaps of its wings and we moved on down the trail.

Suddenly, a furry critter came into view just where the trail curved out of sight. Chuck and I both froze, watching it. It was small with a long tail. I couldn’t see it well. I hoped maybe it was a mink or a fox. We moved forward slowly, watching it carefully. As we drew closer, it darted off the trail. We continued stalking it until we finally came upon it on a grassy side trail. I had to laugh when I saw that it was just a lovely kitty.

We moved on again and soon came upon a little herd of deer. They froze and stared at us for a moment before bounding into the tall grasses. There, they stopped. The young one peered at me through the grass, clearly hoping we would just go away.

A red-tailed hawk landed in a nearby tree. As I focused the camera on it, I noticed another larger bird perched in the same tree. It was a juvenile eagle! I managed a couple shots and we tried to get closer, but the eagle took off. We followed it up the river for a mile or so, trying to get near, but spooking it into flight every time.

We turned back at the eagle’s nest near Station Road. On the return, our pace was quicker. We stopped to watch some ducks and a few small Carolina wrens and cardinals. As we drew near the trailhead, I spotted another eagle perched high above the river on the far bank. This one was a mature eagle, standing regally as the wind stirred his feathers. No matter how many times I see them, I don’t think I’ll ever get over the majesty of these birds!

On the far side of the canal, I heard the loud rapping of a pileated woodpecker. I’ve been trying all summer to photograph one, but they are always too high in the trees, or too far away. I stopped and sat on the ground, hoping this one would come out into the open. I 0

could see it at the base of a tree, little flickers of its head and wings as it moved around, but never a clear shot. Finally, my fingers were aching and Chuck was restless to we had to move on.

We came to a place where the view of the river opens up. The riverbed is wide and the water moves around a large stony beach, rushing in channels and then slowing as it flows through wide pools. There is a beautiful stand of sycamore trees on the far bank. High up in one of the trees, I spotted something large and dark. A bald eagle! It stood on a creamy branch surrounded by decorative seed balls. It was so beautiful! I watched it as it watched the water. Suddenly, its posture changed; it stood taller and leaned forward. Then, it swooped off the branch toward the water. It turned before striking and soared off into the forest.

The summertime runners and bikers have taken their fitness endeavors indoors and the trail is quiet.  We can stand for long uninterrupted stretches watching the birds. They are still busy in the woods and fields but the tenor of their songs is different.  Urgent and earnest with none of the springtime frivolity.  They move in flocks, picking berries and seeds.  They seem to me like residents of a northern isle or a fair weather resort town when the tourists have gone and cold weather is coming.

Afternoon sun is still warm, but the days are shorter. Mornings are crisp and frosty. We all feel in our bones the turning of the season. Somehow the impending cold and quiet make these fall days all the more precious and beautiful.

I see: sunlight dancing on the water, Chuck’s tail bouncing ahead of me, green-green plants, yellow wildflowers, the occasional red leaf spiraling slowly down from a tree.

I feel: gravel beneath my shoes, the weight of the camera strap on my neck, warm sun on my back, a soft breeze.

I hear: an unfamiliar bird song far away in the woods, the river gurgling pleasantly, “good morning” from a passerby.

I smell: dry leaves and earth that make me think of fall.

I taste: morning coffee that lingers on my tongue.

You can try this technique anywhere. If you give it a go, will you share your observations with me? Does it make you feel calm? I know it helps me appreciate the moment and frees me from a million tangled ponderings that usually tie up my mind and distract me from granting my full attention to the now.

Shortly after we started walking, I heard a bird calling off to my right and saw a bright blue indigo bunting perched on a log. I was so excited! I’ve been trying to get a good shot of this brilliant bird all summer and I finally had a good opportunity. The little guy moved around the log, posing for me and singing his little heart out!

We moved on and soon saw a doe standing in the greenery, peeking out at us as she munched on grasses. Small great blue herons were everywhere! They still had some downy feathers and they were more skittish than the mature herons we usually see, so I was able to see them stretch their impressive wings and lift themselves out of the water to glide away with a few powerful flaps. In one wide, calm section of the canal, I saw a great blue heron and a green heron both fishing together. The picture of them isn’t the best, but it was so fun to see them hanging out together!

We walked a long time. As the day grew warmer, the birds retreated from the clearings and their singing was muted. Now, I could hear the cicada’s chatter taking over. It always sounds like summer to me. It starts far off and moves towards you like a wave. It surges and then sweeps past and moves off into the distance only to start again.

We were nearing the trailhead, when I heard a bird calling and calling. I finally found it perched in a tree. It moved around excitedly and finally came out so I could see it. It was a gray catbird. Its mouth was full of a worm or grub of some sort, but it managed to sing even with its mouth full. I wonder if the worm was still alive thinking, “put me out of my misery already!”

We spotted a bunny just off the trailhead. It sat very still and Chuck didn’t seem to be aware of it at all until it darted away. Then, the movement triggered her to jump after it, but the rabbit was far too fast and disappeared into the grass.

When we were able to find a rare break in the grasses, we could see giant carp in the canal. The water is so low that their backs are often breaking the surface of the muddy water as they swim.

We found a little group of mallard ducks – a female and two of her young brood. Right near them, a muskrat was busy collected grasses for his den. It’s not a great photo, but I was able to capture a shot so you can see how close they were to one another. It’s always fun to see neighbors out enjoying a sunny day!

Most of the little warblers and other birds I watched all spring seem to have moved away. The trail is fairly quiet except for the hum of the crickets in the grasses and the drone of cicadas higher up in the trees. Suddenly, I saw a flash of yellow! An American Goldfinch was perched on a branch near the trail. He was out in the clear and he sat still for me for some time so I was able to get a couple nice shots of him. I was so grateful that he posed!

We were almost back to the car when Chuck dove into the grass at the side of the trail and tossed a little mole into the air. It landed on the trail, panting and badly injured. It’s little eyes were scared and desperate. I was holding Chuck back, waiting to see if it would recover and run away, but it didn’t. I was torn about what to do. Should I leave it there to die slowly in the dirt? Should I kill it quickly? Should I let Chuck finish the job? In the end, I could not kill it myself. But I couldn’t leave it there to languish. I loosed the leash and Chuck quickly put it out of its misery.

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We saw loads of blue heron fishing in the canal.  We heard woodpeckers and warblers.  We saw big fish writhing and splashing in the shallow water.  At a bend in the canal, I spotted a belted kingfisher.  We stopped and just stood still for 20 minutes waiting to see if it would land near us.  No dice.

But, as we stood, I could hear so many birds in the surrounding trees.  I could smell the earth and the grass and the honeysuckle.  I could hear the river in the distance.  I was thinking that this must be how a sommelier must feel tasting a great wine.  The delicate pallet picking out individual flavors and savoring the way they feel in the mouth.  They don’t “drink” the wine as much as they experience it.  They sip slowly and taste deliberately.

Like a sommelier tasting a wine, I can only really savor the morning if I take my time.  I have to stop walking and talking and thinking and just try to stand as still as I can and let the sights and smells and sounds wash over me.  It’s cleansing and rejuvenating and one of life’s greatest joys!

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