A Joyous Shriek

You've probably heard the shriek of the red-bellied woodpecker, perhaps not knowing what it was.

I hear it many times a day, because one of these beautiful birds has nested, along with his mate, in a hole in a tree right outside my office window.

The call sounds  like this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W-Amtw1okjI

Aside from being a thrilling event in itself, this shriek conveys something of the glee I often feel in the early morning when the air is cool yet inviting and the sun glances through the pines or across the grass, which is as patchy as ever but suddenly green.

Sure, I read the papers—some of the time. I know what's going on. We've been obeying the "stay-at-home" injunction to the letter. In fact, the only guest we've had in the last two months was Hilary's brother Paul, who stopped by to drop off a sewing machine so Hilary could start making masks. (She's made more than fifty by now, in several designs and many fabric patterns. )

Yes, times are bad. But at the same time, no one can deny that spring has definitely sprung, and although it remains imperative to avoid crowds and keep to a six-foot distance, that isn't hard to do when you're taking a walk in the woods.

We got out fairly early Saturday morning to Hyland Park Reserve. The sun was bright but there was still dew on the grass. And of course, people were everywhere, jogging, cycling, pushing strollers.

We did some strolling ourselves, from the nature center parking lot up over the hill and through the woods to a point from which we could see the two ospreys that return every year to the platform across the highway from Bush Lake.

Tree swallows were soaring and diving near their little houses. Back in the woods, I heard some commotion in a nearby tree and looked up to see two broad-winged hawks mating on a branch forty feet away. They sat together on a branch for a few minutes afterward, then one of them flew off.

Two broad-winged hawks 

It was quieter in the woods—fewer joggers—but the crisp, rapid-fire song of the ruby-crowned kinglets often burst through the silence. A few pinkish-white wildflowers were blooming low to the ground amid the dead leaves: spring beauty?

I was impressed with the faint haze of green as the sun lit up a few nascent leaves barely visible at the edge of the woods. All the beauty and tenderness of new life shimmering through the shadows.

A woman was standing on the path. She had a pair of binoculars around her head, and  as we approached I ventured an idle remark.

"Are you seeing the kinglets?"

"Yes," she replied. "Also yellow-rumped warblers. And there is a pileated woodpecker nearby."

"We've been hearing him," I said.

"He's nesting in one of those dead trees in the lake. There are three in a row with no bark. He's there often. You'll see him."

We found the woodpecker nest but didn't see the bird himself. But out in the open field I spotted a large hawk sitting on a branch in a leafless oak, seemingly idle. It was an immature red-tailed hawk, and he wasn't idle. He took no interest in me as I approached to take a picture, but he suddenly lifted off and headed out across the field, swooping out of sight down into the grass about fifty yards away.

We capped off the morning stroll, hardly more than a mile, with the sight of ten or twenty turtles crowding onto a log.

Yes, everyone was out.  

*  *  *  *

Two days later we made our way to the rock garden just north of Lake Harriet. Though the pools and waterfalls remained dry, quite a few flowers were in bloom. It had rained the previous day and the breeze was filled with the moist scent of evergreens.

I spotted a mourning dove sitting on a rock, with his pale blue eye-ring and eyelid, and I mistook him for a rare species. (He does look sort of special.)

The atmosphere was pristine, peaceful, and vaguely Asian in flavor, and I suddenly had the desire to have a cup of tea in front of me in a classic Mingei tea bowl, set just so on a straw place mat, perhaps.

But I don't actually like the taste of tea. Maybe green tea. Well, no one said I had to drink it.  

We strolled through the rose garden and down to the lake, then wandered west along the shore toward the bandstand. We were about to turn around, when, looking out across the lake, I saw a few distant ducks.

Ruddy ducks! Not the best sighting, but as one of them turned into the sunlight you could easily see the bright blue bill, the big white face patch, and the rich rusty feathers on the head.