Tag Archives: mallard duck

The Prairie Whispers “Spring”

“…this spring morning with its cloud of light, that wakes the blackbird in the trees downhill…”—W.S. Merwin

******

On March 1, Jeff and I celebrated the first day of meteorological spring by hiking the 1,829-acre Springbrook Prairie in Naperville, IL.  March came in like a lamb.

springbrookprairieinmarch3120WM.jpg

From its unlikely spot smack in the middle of subdivisions and busy shopping centers, Springbrook Prairie serves as an oasis for wildlife and native plants. As part of the Illinois Nature Preserves and DuPage Forest Preserve system…

signspringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

… it is (according to the forest preserve’s website) “a regionally significant grassland for breeding and overwintering birds and home to meadowlarks, dickcissels, grasshopper sparrows, woodcocks and bobolinks as well as state-endangered northern harriers, short-eared owls, and Henslow’s sparrows.” Some of these birds stick around during the winter; others will swing into the area in a month or two with the northward migration.

Springbrook Prairie 3120WMWMWM.jpg

That’s quite a list of birds.  Shielding our eyes against the sun, we see something unexpected.

baldeaglespringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

A bald eagle! From its “grave troubles” in the 1970s (as the Illinois Natural History Survey tells us), it is estimated that 30-40 breeding pairs of bald eagles now nest in Illinois each year. We watch it soar, buffeted by the winds, until it is out of sight. As we marvel over this epiphany, we hear the sound of a different bird. Oka-lee! Oka-lee!

redwingedblackbird3220WM.jpg

We first heard them a week ago as we hiked the Belmont Prairie. Their song is a harbinger of spring.  Soon, they’ll be lost in a chorus of spring birdsong, but for now, they take center stage.

nestSpringbrookPrairie3120WM.jpg

A few Canada geese appear overhead. Two mallards complete our informal bird count. Not bad for the first day of March.

mallardduck3120WM.jpg

The scent of mud and thaw tickles my nose;  underwritten with a vague hint of chlorophyll.

rattlesnakemaster3120WMspringbrookprairie.jpg

Strong breezes bend the grasses.

switchgrassspringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

The temperature climbs as we hike—soon, it’s almost 60 degrees. Sixty degrees! I unwind my scarf, unzip my coat.

Indiangrassspringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

Joggers plod methodically along the trail, eyes forward, earbuds in place. They leave deep prints on the thawing crushed limestone trail. Bicyclists whiz through, the only evidence minutes later are the lines grooved into the path.

Our pace, by comparison, is slow. We’re here to look.

springbrookprairietrail3120WM.jpg

Bright light floods the grasslands. Mornings now, I wake to this sunlight which pours through the blinds and jump-starts my day. In less than a week—March 8—we’ll change to daylight savings time and seem to “lose” some of these sunlight gains. Getting started in the morning will be a more difficult chore. But for now, I lean into the light.

beebalmspringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

What a difference sunshine and warmth make!

beebalmtwospringbrookprairie3120WMWMWM.jpg

Families are out in groups, laughing and joking. Everyone seems energized by the blue skies.prairieskiesspringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

Grasslands are on the brink of disappearance. To save them, we have to set them aflame. Ironic, isn’t it?  To “destroy” what we want to preserve? But fire is life to prairies. Soon these grasses and ghosts of wildflowers past will turn to ashes in the prescribed burns.

dogbanespringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

Mowed boundaries—firebreaks—for the prescribed burns are in place…

mowedboundariesSpringbrookPrairie3120WM.jpg

…a foreshadowing of what is to come. We’ve turned a corner. Soon. Very soon.

curveinthetrail3120WMspringbrookprairie.jpg

The prairie world has been half-dreaming…

snowmeltspringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

…almost sleeping.

commonmilkweedpod3120WMspringbrookprairie.jpg

It’s time to wake up.

commonmilkweedtwospringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

All the signs are in place. The slant of light. Warmth. Birdsong. The scent of green.

grassesandwaterspringbrookprairie3120WM.jpg

Spring.

*****

The opening quote is part of a poem “Variations to the Accompaniment of a Cloud” from Garden Time by W.S. Merwin (1927-2019). My favorite of his poems is “After the Dragonflies” from the same volume. Merwin grew up in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and was the son of a Presbyterian minister; he later became a practicing Buddhist and moved to Hawaii. As a child, he wrote hymns. He was our U.S. Poet Laureate twice, and won almost all the major awards given for poetry. I appreciate Merwin for his deep explorations of the natural world and his call to conservation.

*****

All photos this week copyright Cindy Crosby and taken at Springbrook Prairie, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County/Illinois Nature Preserves, Naperville, IL (top to bottom):  March on Springbrook Prairie; sign; prairie skies (can you see the “snowy egret” in the cloud formation?); bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus); red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus); possibly a red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) nest (corrections welcome); mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos); rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccafolium); switchgrass (Panicum virgatum); Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans); hiker; bee balm (Monarda fistulosa); bee balm (Monarda fistulosa); prairie skies; dogbane or Indian hemp (Apocynum cannabinum); mowed firebreak; curve in the trail; snowmelt; common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca); common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca); grasses and water. “Lean into the light” is a phrase borrowed from Barry Lopez —one of my favorites —from “Arctic Dreams.”

******

Join Cindy for a Class or Talk in March

Nature Writing Workshop (a blended online and in-person course, three Tuesday evenings in-person) begins March 3 at The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL. For details and registration, click here. Sold out. Call to be put on the waiting list.

The Tallgrass Prairie: A ConversationMarch 12  Thursday, 10am-12noon, Leafing Through the Pages Book Club, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. Open to the public; however, all regular Arboretum admission fees apply.  Books available at The Arboretum Store.

Dragonfly Workshop, March 14  Saturday, 9-11:30 a.m.  Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. Free and open to new and experienced dragonfly monitors, prairie stewards, and the public, but you must register as space is limited. Contact phrelanzer@aol.com for more information,  details will be sent with registration.

Tallgrass Prairie Ecology Online begins March 26 through the Morton Arboretum.  Details and registration here.

See more at http://www.cindycrosby.com   

Naming the Prairie Community

“That land is a community is the basic concept of ecology, but that land is to be loved and respected is an extension of ethics.” —Aldo Leopold

*******

Spring is here, and with it the smell of toasted prairie.

prescribedburntwoweekslaterSPMA33119-spring.jpg A night or two of rain, some sunshine and rising temperatures, and the burned landscape greens up. Add a dollop of chlorophyll; the scent of wet earth. It’s the scent of spring in my little corner of the world.

prairiedropseed33119SPMA-spring.jpg

With the obliteration of last season’s desiccated foliage after the prescribed fire, signs of the prairie community are open for investigation. It’s worth taking a hike to go look at the hidden, now made visible for a moment in time.  The fire reveals the tunnels across the prairie. But who uses them? Meadow voles? Prairie voles? Or something more wriggly, perhaps?

voletunnel?-SPMA333119WM-spring.jpg

With the tallgrass cover stripped away, a giant ant hill comes into focus. Hmmm. Didn’t know that was there. Did you know a group of ants is called a “colony?” Good name for them.

anthillSPMA-33119WM-spring.jpg

This particular mound is a big one. Soon, it will be smothered in lush grasses and wildflowers and for all purposes, invisible until next spring.

The prairie bursts with new growth on this cold, sunny day.  As I hike, Willoway brook, freed of its burden of ice, murmurs in the background.  I feel myself relax.

Almost under my hiking boot, I see a native thistle, lime green against the blackened prairie. Pasture thistle? I think so.  But I’m not completely sure.

Cirsium discolorseedlingWM-SPMA-33119-spring.jpg

A bird calls from the nearby savanna. I listen, but can’t remember which species goes with the song.  Hmmm… .   I’ll be re-learning bird songs and plant ID from now until fall; saying goodbye the tattered remains of the last year’s prairie….

silphiumterebinthinaceumWM-SPMA-33119-spring

… reacquainting myself with plants and birds as they make their appearance.

As I’m looking for the unknown bird calling from the prairie’s edge, I notice a maple’s bark-chewed branch. Squirrels know maple sap flows in early spring, and that they’ll get a tasty treat if they gnaw the bark. Occasionally, when the sap runs from one of the chewed places, then freezes, I break off and lick a “maple sap-sicle” —sweet and a bit earthy tasting. But it’s too warm for maple sap-sicles this evening.

maplechewedbysquirrelWM-SPMA-3319-spring.jpg

Squirrels. The collective name for a group of squirrels, I discover, is called a “scurry,” depending on what source you consult. The maple tree has its scurry of squirrels as well as birds. And that mysterious bird is singing again. I take out my phone and record it. I’ll do more research  back home.

Birds are pouring into Chicago. Every day brings arrivals from the south. A group of birds is a flock, I remind myself. Easy, right? But I recently learned that when a mixed group of birds bands together to look for the same type of food, they are called a “foraging guild.” Cool!

nuthatch-SPMA33119WM-spring.jpg

Nuthatches, both the white-breasted nuthatch and the red-breasted nuthatch show up at my backyard feeders by the prairie patch each afternoon, scuffling with the downy woodpeckers for peanuts. On the edge of the prairie, I watch them peck their way around the trees. A group of nuthatches, I discover, is called a “jar.” Not sure what this nuthatch thinks about that.

White-breasted nuthatch SPMA33119WM-spring copy.jpg

The prairie real estate market is booming. In early April, just outside of Fermilab Natural Areas’ prairies and Nachusa Grasslands, you can see large numbers of herons flying with grasses and twigs in their bills, building their nests.

heronrookerydoubleyokednorthaurora33019WM.jpg

You may know that herons nesting together form a “rookery” or “heronry.” But did you know a group of these birds is called a “siege” of herons? That’s a new one for me!

Smaller, but just as interesting, are the field sparrows looking for seeds and insects on the blackened ground. I’ve seen the collective name as “host of sparrows,” “knot of sparrows,” and “quarrel of sparrows.” Which one do you prefer?

fieldsparrowWM-SPMA-33119-spring.jpg

On the two-weeks-burned Schulenberg Prairie, the male mallards are paddling along Willoway Brook, looking for mates.  Spring is the beginning of the mating season for many birds in the prairie community.  The ubiquitous Canada geese, which mate for life, are already scouting out nest sites. (Groups of geese are called “a gaggle” or a “skein.”).

geeseinflight-SPMA-33119WM-spring.jpg

Even the mallard ducks have special names. I’ve seen the word “sord” or “sword” used; also the more expected “flight”or “flock”. Even “daggle” of ducks and “doppling” of ducks.

mallardduck-SPMA33119-Spring.jpg

Which brings us full circle to where this “group-of-living-things” tangent began, doesn’t it? It’s fun to learn the collective names of members of the tallgrass community.

mallardduck-water-SPMA33119WM-spring.jpg

What are some of your favorites? Leave a comment and let me know. I enjoy puzzling over bird songs and plant seedlings; thinking about collective names, feeling the sun on my face and the nip of the still-sharp spring air on my nose.

But its not all delight at this time of year on the prairie. There is loss, as well. On my hikes after the burn I find the charred bones of small mice and voles, who couldn’t out-scramble the prairie flames. A raccoon with a luxurious pelt, which looks asleep, but has been felled into eternal slumber by distemper. Feathers blowing across the trail, doubtless from an arriving spring migrant that became a fox or coyote’s snack.

prairiesavannasunsetWM-SPMA-33119-spring.jpg

It’s all part of the deep joy I feel on the prairie. Not some superficial feeling. But rather, the feeling that comes with the reality of the tallgrass. Beautiful? Yes. But it’s no Hallmark  greeting card. There is life here, with all its glorious growth and bad luck; successes and failures.

SPMA-burnedtwoweeks-33119WM-SPring.jpg

The contrast of life and death; the familiar and the strange; cold nights and warm days; loss and renewal; all mingle together in a mish-mash of community on the just-burned prairie. So much to observe. So much to learn.

So much to love.

blackwalnuthull-SPMA-33119-spring.jpg

So much to pay attention to.

*****

Aldo Leopold is best known for his book, A Sand County Almanac (1949); and also, as the father of wildlife ecology, wilderness systems in the United States, and conservation ethics. Read more about him and his work here.

*****

All photos and video clips copyright Cindy Crosby—today’s posts are from the Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL unless otherwise noted: Schulenberg Prairie about two weeks after the prescribed burn; prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis) sprouting; unknown tunnel after the burn; ant mound or hill on burned prairie; Willoway Brook video clip; probably native pasture thistle (Cirsium discolor); old prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum) leaf; sugar maple (Acer saccharum) branch gnawed by squirrels; white-breasted nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis); white-breasted nuthatch (Sitta carolinensis); great blue heron (Ardea herodias) rookery, North Aurora, IL; field sparrow (Spizella pusilla) ; Canada geese (Branta canadensis) in flight; male mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos) (notice the band on his leg); male mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) on Willoway Brook; sunset in the Schulenberg Prairie savanna; Schulenberg Prairie after the prescribed burn;  black walnut (Juglans nigra) and new growth.

*****

For more on group names for living things, check out the book A Charm of Goldfinches by Matt Sewell, and these lists of collective names from the Baltimore Bird Club and MNN.com. The names used here came from these and other sources. Have fun!

*****

Cindy’s classes and speaking this week:

Tallgrass Prairie Ecology online continues through The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Nature writing online and in-person concludes tonight at The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Just released! Order from your favorite independent bookseller or Ice Cube Press here.

With grateful thanks to our sponsors: The Nature Conservancy Illinois, Friends of Neal Smith Wildlife Preserve, Grinnell College Center for Prairie Studies; and The Tallgrass Prairie Center at the University of Northern Iowa. Great places, great folks.

Tallgrass Conversations cover Cindy Pick9a

Prairie Discovery and Recovery

“There is the nature we discover and the nature we recover. There is wildness and there is wildness. And sometimes, our own wholeness depends on the nature we attempt to make whole.” –Gavin Van Horn

***

What does it mean to restore a prairie?

Is it seeding an acre of degraded ground with golden Alexanders?

P1080136.jpg

Planting milkweeds in our backyard, in hopes a monarch butterfly will drop by?

P1080456.jpg

Delighting in the discovery of a monarch egg, dotted on a leaf?

P1080453.jpg

Is it showing up to witness coneflowers pushing out petals?

P1080365.jpg

Making time to walk the tallgrass trails when the short-lived blooms of spiderwort follow the whims of the weather?  Open and close. Open and close.

P1080386 (1).jpg

Or watching the first wild quinine buds appear, cradled by prehistoric leaves. Like dinosaur’s teeth, aren’t they?

P1080313.jpg

What will happen to us when we make room for the simple pleasure of pure white anemones?

P1080443.jpg

Or as we bask in the blast of sunshine from hoary puccoon?

P1080327 copy.jpg

What does it mean to discover the oddball plants, like green dragon in bloom?

GreendragonSPedge53017 (1).jpg

Or porcupine grass, threading its needles of seed.

P1080341.jpg

And wild onion, unknotting itself; that graceful alien, with its kinks and curls.

P1080434.jpg

All of this in June. And the creatures, too.

From the ordinary—

P1080168.jpg

—to the iridescent and extraordinary.

P1080393 (1).jpg

“There is wildness and there is wildness.”

In recovery is discovery. We discover more—then we  long for more.  We think of what has been. And what could be. We work toward wholeness. Restoration.

It changes us.

Why not go see?

IMG_0137.jpg

******

Gavin Van Horn’s quote that opens this post is from his essay, “Healing the Urban Wild.” It’s part of his new edited volume, Wildness: Relations of People and Place (with John Hausdoerffer) from University of Chicago Press. Gavin is the Director of Cultures of Conservation for the Center for Humans and Nature in Chicago, and also editor of City Creatures: Animal Encounters in the Chicago WildernessCheck out Gavin’s books and also the blog at Center for Humans and Nature.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): golden Alexanders (Zizea aurea), Prairie Pondwalk and Dragonfly Landing, Lisle Park District, Lisle, IL; monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) laying eggs on common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), author’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL; monarch egg (Danaus plexippus) on common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), author’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL; pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; ohio spiderwort (Tradescantia ohiensis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; wild quinine (Parthenium integrifolium), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; meadow anemone (Anemone canadensis) Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; hoary puccoon (Lithospermum canenscens), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; green dragon (Arisaema triphyllum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL: porcupine grass (Hesperostipa spartea), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; wild onion (Allium canadense), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; mallard duck (Anas platyrhynchos), Prairie Pondwalk and Dragonfly Landing, Lisle Parks, Lisle, IL; ebony jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus or Rana catesbeiana),  Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL.

Special thanks to Bern Olker, volunteer for Tuesdays in the Tallgrass, who showed me the place where the green dragon grows.

The Joy of January Mud

“How long the winter has lasted–like a Mahler symphony or an hour in the dentist’s chair. In the fields, the grasses are matted and gray… .” — Jane Kenyon

***

The fiery mornings of winter dawn, cold and clear.

P1040317.jpg

The temperature begins rising.  40. 50. 55 degrees. Ahhhh. We throw open the windows. Could this be January? Without bothering to grab our coats, we go outside to hike the prairie trails.

The ice that laces the river’s edges has vanished.

P1040365 (1).jpg

High in the trees, the chickadees sing their spring song for the first time, trying out a few tentative notes. Their music mingles with the mallards’ quack quack quacks and the honk honk honks of Canada geese.

Along the path, sun backlights the last remaining weedy burdock seeds lurking in the prairie grasses.

P1040338.jpg

A few leaves still hang on shrubs and trees, not ready to let go of what is past.

P1040382.jpg

Canada wild rye throws her stiff seedtail comets across the tallgrass.

P1040355.jpg

Sunshine ignites sparks of light as the ice melts.

P1040386.jpg

Look up, and Canada geese seem to tangle in the bare trees.

P1040348.jpg

A paper wasp nest hangs like a marbled empty lantern.

P1040398.jpg

Nobody’s home.

Look down. Embossed into the thaw are prints. The heart-shaped tracks of deer.

P1040388.jpg

The pawprints of a dog, out for a walk, with sneaker tracks close beside.

P1040381.jpg

The small handprints of raccoons, on their way home from the river.

P1040376.jpg

It’s an anomaly, this brief blast of spring. There is joy in January mud. But, rationally, we know that winter will follow this warm, muddy morning with a truckload of snow and more gray, gray, gray. You thought the sunshine would last? Sucker! 

img_1751

Yet, as much as I enjoy the change of seasons, I try to prolong the feeling of spring; arrange bright tulips in a vase…

IMG_9225.jpg

…and daydream about the first prairie blooms which, this morning, seem as if they could be right around the corner.IMG_2163.jpg

On this unusual day in January, the warmth and sunshine feel like a little Post-It-Note from spring. The note reads: Don’t give up.  These gray days won’t last forever.

I’ll fling myself with joy into the morning or two of warmth and light that shows up unexpectedly this winter. Savor that temporary lift of spirits; that bracing shot of courage for whatever is ahead.

Because, on a sunshine-filled, 55 degree January day, anything seems possible.

***

The poet Jane Kenyon (1947-1995), whose line from the poem, “Walking Alone in Late Winter” opens this essay, graduated from University of Michigan, where she met and married professor Donald Hall, later poet laureate of the United States (2006).  They moved to his family’s ancestral farm in New Hampshire, where many of her poems are set. She won a Guggenheim Fellowship (1992) and was the poet laureate of New Hampshire when she died of leukemia at age 48. Kenyon wrote movingly of her struggles with depression (“Having it out with Melancholy”), and found joy in the particulars of the natural world. Two poems of hers to sample: “Let Evening Come,” and “Otherwise.” 

***

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): January sunrise, author’s prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; Canada geese (Branta canadensis) and mallards (Anas platyrhynchos), West Branch of the DuPage River, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL;  burdock (Arctium minus) seeds, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL;  last leaf, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL; Canada rye (Elymus canadensis), McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL; wild blackberry (Rubus allegheniensis) cane with melting ice, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL; Canada geese (Branta canadensis), McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL; paper wasp (Polistes fuscatus) nest, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL; ; white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) track, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL; dog ( Canis lupis) and people  (Homo sapiens) tracks, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL; raccoon (Procyon lotor) print, McDowell Grove Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Naperville, IL;  bridge over Willoway Brook in the snow, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL: bouquet of tulips (Tulipa, unknown species)  author’s window overlooking her prairie spot, Glen Ellyn, IL; pasque flowers (Pulsatilla patens), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL.

Leaving Home

“Migration is a blind leap of faith… .” Scott Weidensaul

*****

September.

In a prairie pond, a turtle and a few ducks snooze in the late afternoon sun.

turtles-and-mallards-916

A baby snapper ventures slowly out to explore the rocks.

IMG_8352.jpg

The last great blue lobelia flowers open and bloom amid the goldenrod. September’s colors.

goldenrod-and-great-blue-lobelia-tma-916

Deep in the tallgrass, a grasshopper takes a hopping hiatus from the heat.

ng-grasshopper-916

A cool breeze stirs. The tree leaves begin to rustle, then rattle. A sound like waves rushing to shore sweeps through the prairie. It ripples in the wind. Tall coreopsis sways.

glen-ellyn-library-prairie-916

The prairie whispers, Go.

The black saddlebags dragonfly feels restless, deep down in its DNA. Orienting south, it joins the green darners, variegated meadowhawks, and wandering gliders to swarm the skies. Go. Go.

blsaddletwo-jamespate815

The meadowhawk dragonfly hears, but doesn’t respond. It will be left behind. Only a few species of dragonflies answer the migration call. Why?

We don’t know. It’s a mystery.

p1000740

A flash of orange and black, and a monarch nectars at the zinnias that grow by my prairie patch.  Mexico seems a long way off for something so small. But this butterfly was born with a passport that includes a complimentary GPS system. This particular monarch will go. Just one more sip.

monarch-backyard-ge-916

A viceroy butterfly delicately tastes nectar from goldenrod. No epic trip for this look-alike. Although its days are numbered, the butterfly bursts with energy, zipping from prairie wildflower to wildflower. Go? I wish!

viceroy-91216

A turkey vulture lazily soars through the air, headed south.  These Chicago buzzards won’t drift far. Once they hit the sweet tea and BBQ states, they’ll stay put until spring.

turkey-vulture-ng-916

Go? The red-tailed hawk catches the whispered imperative. She stops her wheeling over the prairie for a moment and rests on top of a flagpole, disgruntled. Go? NO! So many birds heading for warmer climes! She ignores the command. She’ll winter here,  in the frigid Chicago temperatures. Wimps, she says, disdaining the pretty warblers, flocking south.

red-tailed-hawk-tma-916

Meanwhile, the last blast of hummingbirds dive-bomb my feeders, slugging it out for fuel. Think of the lines at the pump during the oil embargo crisis of the 1970s –that’s the scene. Destination? Central America. You can feel their desperation as they drink deeply, then buzz away.

hummingbird-backyard-ge-916

Saying goodbye is always the most difficult for those left behind. Seeing those we know and care about leave home is bittersweet, fraught with loss.

sneezeweed-ng-916

But, as the prairie brings one chapter to a close–with all of its colorful and lively characters…

sunset-cod-91216

…another chapter is about to begin.

Meanwhile, we watch them go. Bon voyage. Safe travels.

 

*****

The opening quote is by Scott Weidensaul, the author of Living on the Wind: Across the Hemisphere with Migratory Birds, which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom):  painted turtle (Chrysemys picta) and mallard ducks ((Anas platyrhynchos) on the  prairie pond, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; baby snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; great blue lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica) and Canada goldenrod (Solidago canadensis), prairie planting, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; grasshopper (species unknown), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; tall coreopsis (Coreopsis tripteris), Glen Ellyn Public Library prairie planting, Glen Ellyn, IL; black saddlebags dragonfly (Tramea lacerata), James “Pate” Philip State Park, Illinois DNR, Bartlett, IL;  meadowhawk (Sympetrum spp.) Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; monarch (Danaus plexippus), author’s backyard garden and prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL; viceroy butterfly (Limenitis archippus) on Canada goldenrod (Solidago canadensis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; turkey vulture (Cathartes aura), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis), The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) , author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; sunset at Russell Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.