Archive for the ‘wild life’ Category
nest of the Eastern Phoebe
This time of year, I hear a wheezy call in our maple tree. The Eastern Phoebe has arrived, to build a nest under the eaves of our shed.
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The Phoebe makes an appearance in the book I am writing – ‘Crossing at a Walk’. I have just reached Draft #5 of the writing, a time when I edit for adverbs, sentence length, repeated phrases and so on. I also work to clarify the plot and the story, making certain my characters are true to their missions in the book. At this stage, the editing is a bit of a blur.
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Here is an excerpt from the book. The Eastern Phoebe has come to check out the Whisper Wind Writers’ Retreat (the setting for my story). Tom will encounter three Phoebe’s in the book: the shrill ‘fee-bee’ song of the Chickadee in spring, the Eastern Phoebe with its nasal ‘phee-bee’, and the name ‘Phoebe’ carved in the covered bridge …
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I am in our garage, cutting leaves from a sheet of copper for a new wind sculpture. I glimpse a quick flutter outside the window and hear knocking in the eaves.
I put the tin snips down on the workbench and step outside to investigate. At one corner of the garage, up under the edges of the roof, is the nest of a bird, constructed within the last few days.
As I lean to get a better look, the mighty construction worker flies out and swoops up to the height of one of our birch trees. It tilts its black head and says, in two raspy, out-of-tune syllables, ‘phee-bee’. The sound is nasal and cheerless, quite different from the bright ‘fee-bee’ of the chickadee in spring.
An Eastern Phoebe! A charming grey bird with a puffed black hairdo and a dirty white throat. The phoebe sits in the tree and wags his tail. He says, again, ‘phee-bee.’
Every morning in June he wakes me.
‘What on earth is that annoying bird song?’ says sleepy Sadie.
‘You could hardly call it a song,’ I answer.
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For more about the three Phoebes, see my post for May 4, 2015 ‘spring orchestra – fee-bee’.
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the nest of the Eastern Phoebe – notice this Phoebe has found a few strands of tinsel from our Christmas tree to decorate his home!
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Copyright 2015 Jane Tims
spring orchestra – downy woodpecker
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sticky tongue, tail prop, zygodactyl feet
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beneath the key of chained song (chick-a-dee
whistle, robin melodic and whitethroat
mnemonic, wheezy phoebe, junco click) –
grubs mumble, coil in rotting wood
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beneath low woodwind, blazing brass and string –
jagged percussion and drum roll, Downy
Woodpecker excavates sugar maple
stump, black jackhammer
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beak throws wood chips, heaps sawdust and splinters
dapper shudders, black and white, a grey smudge
bright head-bars, a red blur, tap a stammer
steady stutter, busyspeak
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Copyright 2015 Jane Tims
woodpeckers and covered bridges
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Woodpeckers are common in our area. Both Downy and Hairy Woodpeckers visit our feeders in winter. Pileated Woodpeckers hammer on our trees in summer, their flaming heads a blur as they excavate dead trees for insects.
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Woodpeckers don’t confine their tapping to dead trees. I have seen them pounding on telephone poles, metal roof flashing and even the shingles on the side of our house.
Lately, as a result of a project I am planning, I have been thinking about covered bridges and their use as wild life habitat. So, a question …
Do woodpeckers excavate the wood of covered bridges for food?
Last week, we visited three covered bridges in Sunbury County in New Brunswick and, in two of them, we found the answer …
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woodpecker holes in the soffit at the gable end of the Smyth Covered Bridge near Mill Settlement, Sunbury County (April 2015)
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old woodpecker excavations on the face of the Bell Covered Bridge near Juvenile Settlement, Sunbury County (April 2015).
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I would love to be in a covered bridge when a woodpecker comes to play his staccato song.
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Copyright 2015 Jane Tims
words from the woodland – bird song
I have a lot of projects underway, mostly on the ‘administrative’ side of writing. I have been ordering and revising a manuscript of poems on abandoned aspects of our landscape ( see https://nichepoetryandprose.wordpress.com/2015/01/19/first-and-last-and-in-between/ ). Now, I have reached the point where I really need to set the manuscript aside so I can approach it with a fresh eye in a couple of weeks. So I will use the days between to order another manuscript of poems about sounds from the woodland. The poems mostly use animal and bird sounds and songs as metaphors for human communication.
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Some of these poems have been around a while, packaged in another form. In the last weeks, I have been thinking about the bird song metaphor and now I am ready to consider the poems in relation to one-another. Perhaps I am responding to the Black-capped Chickadees, chattering in the Tamarack. Or the Hairy Woodpecker who comes every few days to beat his head against our telephone pole. Perhaps I am thinking more than usual about human communication (having just learned to ‘Twitter’).
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drawing doves
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‘… cease to mourn …’
Virgil, Eclogue I
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grey sighs beneath graphite
or where eraser softens
troubled feathers
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doves lament, disturb
fine detail, mourn
the fingers’ tremble
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pencil strokes beak
and fingernails, kernels
of corn, husks of sunflower
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Copyright 2015 Jane Tims
aromatic spring
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meadow aromatic
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ozone lightning, late
waters cede, shoots
of cattail merge
end of day, end of June
fireflies, mosquito nights
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lake-land meadow seeps
wetland meets nostril
marsh musk percolates
half sour, half sweet
methane ooze, decay
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damp fiddleheads unfurl
bird beaks simmer
in duckweed soup
skin of salamander, frog
steeplebush, meadowsweet
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angels crave human years, allow
their pores release, scent imitates
reek of sweat, of work
tears mingle with perfume
aftershave and powder
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Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
writing weekend
This weekend, I will be attending WordSpring. WordSpring is the annual spring meeting and workshop of the New Brunswick Writers’ Federation. I will be reading some of the poetry from my ‘harvesting colour’ manuscript and I will get another eye on part of my novel at a Blue Pencil Café.
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Preparations for the weekend made me think of a poem I wrote after the workshop in Saint Andrews a few years ago …
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encounters
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on a windy night
in Saint Andrews, a toad
hop-toddies across the road,
bewildered
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and on Prince of Wales, a deer
pauses on the sidewalk, stares
up the hill, and I hesitate
before driving on
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in the Algonquin, a light
switches on, in the room I know is mine
and a couple huddles on the open porch,
and leaves, mottled, skid
along the street
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Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
a closer look at trees (days 48, 49 and 50)
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One of the natural history lessons learned during my trip to California concerned the oak. On a trip to ‘Safari West’ near Santa Rosa, our guide pointed out the scarred trunks of various trees. The bark was embedded with acorns! The Acorn Woodpecker places the acorns in holes in the bark of these trees, storing them for a later source of food. The storage trees or ‘granaries’ are used over and over through the years!
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Perhaps as a result of seeing so many new tree species in California, I have looked more closely at the trees I see in Street View as I cycle ‘virtually’ along the Cornwall coast. Identification is usually difficult since the images do not show details. However, occasionally a leafy branch is close enough to see the leaves clearly. So far, I have seen the Common Ash, the Field Maple, and the English Oak. In the image below, you can see the lobed leaves of the English Oak.
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7-48 November 21, 2013 30 minutes 3.0 km (from Mawgan to St. Martin)
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7-49 November 23, 2013 35 minutes 3.0 km (from St. Martin to Helford)
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7-50 November 25, 2013 30 minutes 3.0 km (from Helford to St. Anthony-in-Meneage)
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Copyright 2013 Jane Tims
dear deer
This year, I moved our feeders to our front yard.
They are not so easy to see from the house, although I have a good view from the window of our library.
The deer have liked the new feeding station. We see them almost every day. They empty the feeder too quickly and also visit the compost pile. We don’t deliberately feed the deer, but they visit the feeders anyway.
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deep and delicate, hoof print
evidence, this space is shared
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deer, eat peelings by moonlight
one floor up, we sleep, unaware
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lulled by winter carbs
carrots and potatoes in the supper stew
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Copyright Jane Tims 2013
a pair of eagles
When we spend time at our lake property, we often see Bald Eagles. They nest in the large White Pines along the edge of the lake and I sometimes find their feathers near our arbour, suggesting they visit our place when we are not at home.
Today we watched a pair of them circle high in the sky, soaring effortlessly on the updrafts. They flew in sync with one another, so coordinated in their movements, they could have been dancing.
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fragments about wind
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the trees move as though branches flow from a bottle
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this morning I found
oak leaves on the sidewalk
and a young acorn with the nut missing
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a pair of eagles soars
wings lifted on
scant molecules of air
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Copyright Jane Tims 2012












































