Laurie Snider
Notes from the Nest
When I was a child, one of my favourite stories my mom would read to my siblings and I before bed, was the Dr Seuss classic, And to think that I saw it on Mulberry Street.
It’s the story of Marco, a child with a fantastical imagination, who tells his dad great tales about all of the creative visualizations he conjures up on his way back and forth to school, on Mulberry street. As his vivid descriptions become more and more grand there’s a repeating line, ‘And that is a story that no one can beat, when I say that I saw it on Mulberry street.’
Owing to the fact I heard the story so many times as a child and then read the same story over and over again to our children, that same repeating remark turns round and round in my mind quite regularly. In my case however I would change the spirited little catchphrase into, “And to think that I saw it on Alfred street.” Much to my own delight, I’ve discovered like the protagonist Marco of Mulberry Street, there’s a great deal to see just peeking out the windows, gazing up at our trees, glancing under shrubs and hedges and peeping under twigs and leaves. Unlike Marco, whose observances tended to be far-fetched illusions, the incredible marvels I see when I care to notice and pay attention exist and are real and certain.
As newlyweds when Randy and I first moved here 29 years ago, we were busy working professionals, being blissfully in love and starting and raising a young family. Even though I loved the natural beauty of our yard and gardens with its mature trees, surrounding cedar-box hedge and established gardens, I was often too preoccupied to give it the consideration it deserved. Over the years this bewitching piece of paradise we’re blessed to call home has gone through some remarkable transformations.
My camera is always nearby at the ready in case a new bird or animal arrives or even if one of the more familiar ones is being particularly photogenic. I’ve learned to listen to the sounds of bird calls, easily recognizable or uncommon ones, which lead me to my binoculars to scour the tree branches, feeders, hedge, lawn or sky. After many years I’ve become quite adept at distinguishing birds before even seeing them, from the loud squawking, “jeer,” of the blue jays, the merry, whistling cheers of cardinals to the warm twitters and warbles of goldfinches.
Lately, the sweet, melodious song of the rose-breasted grosbeaks quickens my steps to the window so I can catch a glimpse of these beauties that’ve been described as ‘exclamation points’ at your feeders. By becoming attentive to their seasonal rhythms over the years, I know approximately when to expect them during the brief few weeks of the year they enjoy dining out at our feeders. I continue to be astonished each sighting with their gracefulness, allure and impressive rosy-red chest plumage.
I’m also listening for the high-pitched nocturnal chatter of the flying squirrels or the hurried scampering up to the treetops of raccoons as the dogs spring outdoors into the yard. The dogs much more in tune with their senses then I am, are also helpful in spotting wild things that’ve wondered into the yard, especially the creatures of the night. A sudden frenzy of boisterous barking not only keeps ‘bad guys’ at bay but draws me to the windows to see what may be slinking, skulking or lurking about on our little plot of land.
For several years now I’ve kept a journal in which I record my monthly sightings of birds and wildlife that may be strolling, scavenging, roaming, flitting or flying through the various habitats we offer on our premises. My unscientific surveillances have rewarded me well. We’ve been visited by raccoons, porcupines, skunks, groundhogs, a fox, a coyote, chipmunks, three varieties of squirrels, including flying ones and a white one, rabbits, a wild turkey, toads, frogs, butterflies, moths and beetles, as well as over 30 different bird species, including a pair of mallard ducks known as Charles and Madeline. Not too shabby for our little ole homestead barely on the edge of town!
Thankfully, contrary to Mulberry Marco, I needn’t fabricate or embellish what I’m seeing. As inspirational author Gladys Taber wisely asserts, “As long as I have a window, life is exciting.”