Cardinal Sunday

Late summer, 2009 ~

My goal for the day was an hour or two of quiet reflection on the river; I accomplished that and more.

It was August 23rd, a Sunday. Thunderstorms earlier in the week had driven the water level high, and the river was moving swiftly. The logs and rocks that frequently serve as "sunning spots" for turtles were now submerged.

The shoreline, usually navigable by foot or hoof, was also under water; the edge of the river was reaching far up the bank, deep into the tall grasses and brush. Thus, the usually visible wildlife was either rare... or perhaps just more difficult to see.

I was particularly interested, then, by a female cardinal that began to study me as I made my way down the river. She would fly ahead perhaps forty yards, land on a branch, and look back in my direction. Then, as if I wasn’t going fast enough to keep up, she would fly back toward me and hover near my kayak, looking me over.

This sequence happened maybe six or seven times, until she was accompanied by another three or four cardinals that she had summoned to see her discovery. Like her, they hovered over my boat for a time, then moved up stream to sit on a branch and rest. Then, they would return to continue their close-up, birds-eye observation.

Unlike the showy, bright red males, the female cardinal has softer, earth-tone feathers. Not as dark as brown, but not as light as tan… I would almost call her color a deep shade of lambswool, with accents of red on the edges of her wings and beak. I have never physically touched one to know for sure, but their feathers look remarkably soft when touched by the eye.

I have studied many types of wildlife from my boat. And I am sure that many forms of wildlife have studied me as I passed by; many more creatures, no doubt, than I even knew were watching. But I have never been so intensely examined as I was that Sunday, by that single cardinal, and then her classmates, doing their best to study who or what I was, and why I was passing through.

My camera stayed packed-away for most of this trip; that a few pictures were captured in my mindseye was merely a bonus.

It was a good day on the river.

© 2010 Mike D. Anderson, St. Michael, MN. All rights reserved.

Frost Covered Morning

Midwinter, 2009/2010 ~

Nature provides a reliable navigation tool that will guide you through almost any forest here in the northern latitudes; it is the collection of green, gold or brown lichen that collects on the northern edge of a tree trunk, branch or log... or the soft green moss that gathers on the ground in the shade of the same.

During the winter, nature covers her warm weather clues with snow. But today, I noticed a similar occurance, if only a temporary one, created by coincidence and a southern breeze.

On this crisp January morning, I stepped outside before sunrise to see that the landscape had been painted with a fresh coat of snow and frost. Even above the ground, white crystals clung to nearly every surface in sight; the stairsteps, the side of the house, even the trees and shrubs. But when I looked across the way toward our neighbor's house, to the north, it seemed as if their trees had been overlooked by the frost... but with a closer look, I realized that only the southern face of any surface was frost-free. My first thought was that the winter ice had taken the same approach as the summer moss... using the shadow of the tree to hide from the the sun that would rise shortly. But stepping around to the side of the house, I was caught by a steady southern breeze; it occurred to me that these millions of miniature icicles were the product of a light but steady wind... causing moisture to cling to the northern side of any surface.

I checked later, about nine o'clock. The ice was still hanging in there, probably because the sun hangs so low in the southern sky this time of year.

John Burroughs (1837-1921) was, among other things, a naturalist. His writings include this simple bit of wisdom:

"The best place to observe nature is where you are; the walk to take today is the walk you took yesterday. You will not find just the same things, for both the observed and the observer have changed."

This morning, again, I was provided evidence that he was right.


© 2010 Mike D. Anderson, St. Michael, MN. All rights reserved.

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