Benign Neglect
On a spring day when I was wan- dering around my New England yard to see what was blooming, I
spied fresh woodchips at the base
of an oak tree. Looking up, I saw
a newly excavated woodpecker
hole. A flicker had been drumming
regularly—a bit too regularly, I
must say—on the metal cap of
my chimney for two weeks, and I
figured it might be his hole. I later
looked at the hole through binoculars, and yes, there was a flicker
perched at the entrance. Although
I’ve seen plenty of flickers—as
well as downy, hairy, red-bellied,
and pileated woodpeckers—in
my yard over the years, this was
the first time I had zeroed in on an
active nest hole, and I planned to
follow the drama of whether the
flicker would be able to attract
a mate—and perhaps cease the
racket on the chimney.
Meanwhile, broad-winged
Mother Nature Knows Best
hawks were nesting high up in
another oak in the yard, and bluebirds had claimed the nest box in
the backyard. Cardinals, robins,
titmice, chickadees, white-throat-ed, song, and chipping sparrows,
catbirds, wrens, house finches,
goldfinches, nuthatches, mourning
doves, and the other usual suspects
were busy visiting the feeders in
the yard or foraging for other food,
courting, and bathing and drinking from the birdbath. I’ve identified about 60 species in my yard,
including a turkey and a great blue
heron that flew by the deck one
day at eye level.
A few warblers would no doubt
be coming through soon, and I
was looking forward to the wood
thrush’s song that I was sure
I’d be hearing in the summer in
the back woodlot as the fireflies
blinked and a bat or two darted
above the trees.
RON AUSTING
