Summer sights and sounds

This spot near one of the many beaver dams in a favorite preserve gives an impression of quiet peace, though it’s actually full of sound… so much that it’s hard to separate out the threads of the aural tapestry. I hear a red-eyed vireo, a song sparrow, robins and blue jays at different points, along with other sounds, including the quiet, panting excitement of my rambling companion Lucy as she continually spins and sniffs at — who knows what?

One of the things about revisiting familiar places is the reminder that nothing lasts forever. For example:

This spot is where we’ve often seen a chipmunk we dubbed “Carson,” because he reminds us of the butler on Downton Abbey who imagines himself “staying at Downton forever, and then haunting it forever after.” He was always perched there, watching us from his huge estate. But as a result of a complex disaster of wind taking down a tree that took down others as it fell, Downton is no more, and Carson is not in his usual perch as he used to be:

Still, the first stretch of open woods was lovely with the sun showcasing the many shades of green and dappling the ground.

Stopping to check out the vernal pool that’s usually filled to bursting with salamanders and frog’s eggs in the spring, I found it filled with grasses along with this fallen tree that reminded me of one of my favorite books: Elizabeth Goudge’s Scent of Water, with its epigraph from the book of Job:

On to the stretch of beaver dams, dotted with beaver activity…

woodpecker activity…

and general loveliness of the “leaping greenly spirits of trees / and a blue true dream of sky” variety.

This little nook at the end of the boardwalk always seems enchanted to me. I have a pic of my youngest sitting on it years ago here, working on a scavenger hunt. (How can it be 12 years have passed?) I couldn’t resist enhancing the photo to make it more like my sense of the place:

It was especially enhanced by the sight of a common yellowthroat that I’d heard singing over my head last time I was here, but I never got my eye on him. This time I did — as he fled the scene at the arrival of this yellow warbler, who took over the airwaves with his “sweet sweet I’m so sweet” song:

From there it was back along another beaver-engineered canal full of turtles and frogs. Only a few allowed themselves to be photographed.

Last stop: a quick wetting for Lucy in the creek — moving water not populated by other creatures — on the way back to the car.