Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Eye on the Tree

There are heavy clouds here this morning, and a greyness over the village. A fine nebulous pearly haze is draped over the garden, and everything beyond the kitchen windows seems blurred, fuzzy and indefinite in outline against the grass and our garden plots.

A drenching rainfall filled the night, and it appears we are in for rain all day today and nary a trace of sunlight, but we do need the rainfall. The fields in Lanark are bone dry, and friends who are organic gardeners and shepherds in the highlands are more than trifle worried about the crops they sowed only a few days ago.

Robins are common here in summer, and so much so that we usually don't notice them, but one of the great pleasures of the last few days has been watching robins foraging for worms in the garden a little after sunrise, and I am hopeful that they will bring their short-tailed brood to visit in a week or two.

At first light, Minerva and her mate landed in the garden and began their usual early hunt for tasty morsels to take back to their nestlings in the Manitoba maple in the corner of the garden. Up and down they went, to and fro, sensing movement deep in the earth with their tiny taloned feet, and pausing now and again with their heads tilted to one side as they listened for worms too.

Wherever she goes, and whatever she is doing, Minerva stops every few feet to look back at her nest and make sure that her brood is safe in the old corner tree. One cannot be too careful about such matters - there are numerous crows about too.

There is an original haiku sequence here.


Anonymous said...

Hi Cate,
I commented on your beautiful post yesterday, and then my connection exploded into nothingness, and the comment disolved. I don't like that.

Your powers of observation impress me so much. I, too, love robins. I love they way they cock their heads -- someone said that they can HEAR worms underground.

The way you live, looking closely at the world around you, is an antidote to the more, more, more urge of today's America. I know people who jet off to rainforests and mountain climbs without ever having really experienced their own habitat.

Anonymous said...

Aria loves watching the robins on our front lawn in the mornings too. Of course it's way too early for any person or bird to be up...but neither seems to mind the lack of full daylight. Our cat Angus usually joins them, but his gazing is more of a stalking behind the window screen...


Marcie said...

Minerva is a beauty. I wonder if she is perhaps related to Mr. Wiggles who arrives first in our corner of the world each springtime. Hmmm. :)