Past the far side of the oxbow I enter the floodplain forest of mature pin oaks that offers welcome shade on this summery day. Jack-in-the-pulpit stands with its hooded flowers among the sprawling poison ivy vines on the ground, and a new season’s crop of glassy-stemmed jewelweed is sprouting up from the moist soil. Jewelweed is a prolific annual in wet places, and all these plants have grown from seeds scattered by the exploding pods of last summer’s plants, which died back with the first frosts. It’s good to see the vitality of these wild sowings, and I look forward to the spotted orange or yellow (depending on the species) sac-shaped blossoms that will soon be visited by bumblebees and hummingbirds. Right now many of the blue-green leaves hold drops of water that are indeed jewel-like.
Overhead I hear the clear ringing song of a Baltimore oriole. I strain for a glimpse of his brilliant orange and black plumage, but he is so high up in the canopy that I can’t get a good look. The oriole has all the bravado of the redwing, and is also a blackbird, but has a more melodious song. “One of the ones that Midas touched/ Who failed to touch us all” says Emily Dickinson, but for now I’ll have to settle for the golden notes of his song.
As I head back through the swamp forest of pin oak, elm, and red maple I look up to see, just ten feet away, a common yellowthroat on a low branch. One of the warblers who loves dense tangles of brush, popping out in the open only rarely, I usually hear the yellowthroat’s “witchety witchety witchety” song before, and often without, seeing the small singer. But this bright yellow bird with his black mask, called the “lone ranger” by one of my early birding mentors, is right out in plain sight, quietly trading glances with me as he hunts for insects among the leaves. It’s a treat to see him like that, a small gift to compensate me for my failed attempt to view the oriole. And it reminds me that each walk here is a new walk, and the act of paying attention is always rewarded.
Richard Parisio is a lifelong naturalist, educator and writer. He currently leads field trips for school classes at Mohonk Preserve, teaches courses about John Burroughs and conducts tours of Slabsides and the John Burroughs Sanctuary for groups and individuals by request. Rich is New York State coordinator for River of Words, a national poetry and art program on the theme of watersheds, and teaches River of Words programs for school classes, grades K-12, by request. Contact Rich ([email protected]) with questions, comments, or suggestions for Nature at Your Doorstep.
