Category: Uncategorized

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A light overcast above Hideaway Pond today. Warm, for this time of year. The pond is a pool of reflections. A soft gray sky. And the wild cherries are blooming. Makes one feel like kicking back and letting Nature entertain. Curtain time.

It’s mid-week. The last two days were alive with mallards and wood ducks. Both days, two pairs of mallards splashed down during early morning. They dabbled around the edge of the pond, feeding on submerged vegetation. Spring’s gift to the water world. And to the winter starved grass carp. By mid-afternoon the mallards had hit the Birdbaun north. Didn’t even stop for a chat. The least one might expect for free snack of fresh green water shoots. Ingrates.

Not so, the wood ducks, 2 pairs of whom visited each day. Both pairs explored the pond, flew from tree to tree, strolled around the edge of the pond and into the woods. Aeronauts, aquanauts and terranauts, these little guys. Triple threats. We continue to hope that a pair will favor us by moving into the duck house we mounted on one of the pond side trees a few years ago. Woe unto us. They must not like the neighborhood.

We may have better luck with the bluebird house mounted to one of the front yard maples. A pair of house wrens was flirting with it this morning. She kept entering and exiting while he hung out in a tree. She might be measuring for curtains. We’ll see.

A chipmunk has made a home in a stack of logs in the back yard. It pokes its head in and out of various holes. A veritable condominium complex all to itself. Some chipmunks have all the luck. Seems to matter little that there’s no indoor plumbing.

And the bears should be visiting soon. By this time last year we had seen several. I’ve included a couple of photos from last year’s visitors.

Before we went to the porch this morning, my lovely bride spotted a pair of wood ducks from the kitchen window. They played in the trees until we reached the porch. They grazed around the edge of the pond for a while. They had settled down on the edge of the pond when a squirrel jumped out of the brush and frightened them to the back of the pond. And there they remain.

Darkness has falllen. And two more mallards have splashed down and swum to the island. There, they’ve climbed the bank and fallen asleep. It’s been a long hard flight.

So the curtain closes as another beautiful Catskill sunset fades to black. Silence.

A sad little goose story:

Some may know that a specific pair of Canada geese has nested on our pond every spring. Geese mate for life and return to the same nesting place every year. These have annually built a nest on our island. The germination period for the eggs is 28 days. During that time, the female sits on the eggs, except for roughly a half hour each day. During that time she joins the male, usually for a brief swim.

Two nights ago a fox, raccoon or other predator raided the nest and ate the eggs. This caused, as one would expect, loud and sustained protest by the frantic mother during the attack.

Geese will mourn the loss of a mate, as they sometimes will the loss of a nest and its eggs. By coincidence, two days ago her mate was forced to defend their residence on the pond from another pair of marauding geese. Meanwhile his mate lay in obvious mourning in the woods behind our house. The male apparently won the fight, for the marauders were gone by morning.

The pair spent yesterday together, but the entire experience was apparently too disruptive for them. This morning the male was gone and the female spent the entire morning in the grass before the ledge. Still as a statue, she stared at the ledge the entire time.

At about 3pm, she dropped into water and swam directly to the former location of the nest. She stood there for 5 minutes, then swam ashore. She spent about 45 minutes walking around the yard and into the woods, emitting brief, pitiful little chirps. Obviously calling her missing mate. She stood on the edge of the pond for about 5 minutes. Then she spread her wings and flew, first skimming the water, then lofting high into the air. Her compass pointing north.

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Well, Hideaway Pond has suddenly become Canada goose central. Three wood ducks who dropped in during the morning found themselves in the midst of “High Noon” in Gooseville. Two invading geese had descended out of the blue and attacked poor Gus, our goose-in-mourning due to the loss of the family eggs to marauding critters. Geese are very territorial and one pond is usually too small for two families. No matter how large the pond or small the families. So it’s “Git outta town” for one of them. The fight continued all day, the contestants sometimes walking, sometimes flying. Strange, but then geese are not given to deep thought.

Apparently Gus prevailed, because the bellicose pair was in absentia this morning. Minus a few feathers and a little pride, I assume. Meanwhile Gilda, the mourning mom lay quietly in the woods behind our house all day. Still inconsolable.

The passage of his royal buckness and his harem at nightfall got little notice after the day’s excitement.

Today was much more peaceful, in spite of more avian tourist activity. Three mallards and six geese splashed down in the morning. Two families of wood ducks arrived in late afternoon. Everyone behaved themselves. Even the geese.

So today was basically uneventful. Even boring, one might say. But it gifted the Hideaway with a beautiful finale as a quiet sunset painted the sky above Overlook Mountain with a palette of deep pink and gray. Silence

Well, birds continue to rain down onto Hideaway Pond. Two mallards must have flown in on the red eye. They were already there when we arrived on the porch for breakfast. Soon two pairs of wood ducks splashed down, followed at noon by another pair.

Wood ducks are at home on the ground as much as in the air and water. A pair of the little guys decided to leave the pond and take a stroll in the woods. Attached are a few photos of them doing so. They’re so beautiful they look almost unreal. One might think they could turn one over and find “Made in Taiwan” stamped on its little bottom. But I can assure you that they’re living, breathing birds. While Shari was photographing them, they spooked. They skittered into the woods and down the hill to the creek (or “crick” as we used to call them in western PA.) that borders our property. They were home in time for dinner.

Speaking of mallards, which I wasn’t, the male of the species, in spite of all his feathered finery and ceremonial woo, is not a very nice dude. As soon as the Mrs lays her eggs, he hit’s the road. Or the air, as it were. A deadbeat bird. Who woulda thunk?

And the great blue heron (or “Harry”, as my lovely bride has dubbed him) is back! Woe unto the fishes of Hideaway. We watched during lunch as Harry brutally speared and consumed two of our poor, benighted little finned friends. Very bad table manners if you ask me.

Ponder the sad life of a fish for a moment, if you will. It enters the world as a cold wet fertilized egg. Hardly an auspicious beginning. Having survived that, it hatches and becomes a “fingerling”. “Fingerling”! How ignoble a name is that? It then spends each winter in a stupor at the bottom of a dark frigid pond. Finally, on a bright sunny spring day it rises to the surface. Full of joy and optimism. The world is it’s moisture! It’s then suddenly speared, ripped from its happy wet home, quickly swallowed, and digested. Not even given time to say “Goodbye” to its mother. And it finally ends the entire process as a wad of bird poo. I certainly wouldn’t like it. Would you? I thought not.

A caveat. Attached are a couple pictures of Harry. They were taken from a distance of about 1000 ft. In spite of some earnest editing, They remain a bit out of focus. Or perhaps it’s indigestion. A late fish’s post mortem revenge.

Fast forward a day:
We were wakened last night by the sustained loud outcry of the female goose. We noticed this morning that she was off the nest and stayed off. Very uncharacteristic. I assume that her cry was that of a terrified mother goose as a raccoon, fox or some other hungry critter raided her nest and dined on her eggs. Some little goslings will never have the chance to grow up, graduate from goose school and march their daughter down the aisle. OK, geese don’t get married, but they do mate for life. Close enough.

Sadly, Mom and Dad Goose are now wandering around the yard together. They look lost. They are in mourning for their lost “children”. Geese will do that for the loss of a mate as well. I’ve seen it before.

Rewind a day:
So another day goes by in our modest little hidden sanctuary. The inexorable beauty and cruelty of nature. As the sky turned pink with its post sunset display and faded to twilight, I’d swear I heard the faint strains of “Taps” being played somewhere in the distance.
Right on time a shooting star from the Lyrids meteor shower streaked across a darkening sky.

OK, a little bit of artistic license on the shooting star. Mea culpa.

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Well, the Hideaway Pond wild bird watch goes on. Two mallards greeted us this morning and hit the avian highway north in early afternoon. A solitary male wood duck has been hanging morosely around the pond and adjacent woods for the last few days. Prospective fatherhood nerves or a lost lover? Your guess is as good as mine.

The little guys are very secretive tree dwellers. Either way, she could be hidden in a hole in a nearby pine. If he’s her mate, she will call him to the nest. Wood ducks have a higher pitch voice as opposed to the quack of most ducks. Have a listen. Sorry, it takes a couple of minutes to download.

https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Wood_Duck/sounds

The local buck deer showed up with his harem of three does in late afternoon. They grazed near the ledge, disappeared into the woods and reappeared on the opposite side of the pond a half hour later. Not enough time, I would think, for any hanky panky to have taken place. But then what do I know about cervidean sex life. Or care, really.

Before long, the bears will start showing up. A year ago today a bear ripped off our bird feeder and reduced it to total bruin ruin. Shari has been taking it down at night for the last two weeks.

A beautiful sunset has announced the end of the day and brought with it two more wood ducks. As darkness has fallen, four more have splashed down. A noisy wet finale to a fine early spring evening.

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It’s been busy around the pond for the last several days. Migrating ducks, mostly mallards, have been dropping in on a regular basis. They generally splash down in late morning or early afternoon. They’ll dabble around the edges of the pond, feeding on submerged vegetation, butts aimed heavenward. Dignity is not their forte’. They’ll take off at sunset or early sunrise. Often dropping a gratuity or two in the pond as they leave. Loathsome expression of gratitude, if you ask me.

In spite of our efforts to move them out, the geese have prevailed. And they’re clearly in a family way. We should do a better job of monitoring the behavior of our overnight guests. She’s feverishly building a nest on the island. An unfortunate fact for several reasons. First, some of the newly hatched goslings will quickly become tiny feathered hors d’oeuvres for the local snapper population. The goose gods are cruel. Two, if they survive, these small winged beasts will evolve into the meanest miniature raptors since the Jurassic mass extinction. Intra-familial war looms. Three, they poop with the avid gusto of a John Deere manure spreader. Copiously. On the lawn.

For the last two days, while she’s been warming the nest, he’s been spending the time floating on the pond, head under his wing, sound asleep. A worried prospective father he‘s not.

Our alpha male six point buck visited with his harem again last evening. Some guys have all the luck. On second thought, a harem? With all that must entail? Maybe not.

Early spring moves on apace, The squirrels continue their crazy springtime rituals. Prospecting for long lost acorns. Minding their kits. Chuck, our resident groundhog, has suddenly re-inhabited his former home under our sun porch. Apparently his recent digs in the abandoned drain pipe near the woods are for winter use only. A wealthy woodchuck. Who woulda thunk?

The day’s idyllic peace was rudely disturbed when a frantic raccoon burst onto the scene. It ran from the woods across the lawn, around the ledge and up the mountain before we could lay a lens on it. Didn’t see its pursuer. Just as well, I suppose. At the same time, a pair of mallards hit the water very near to where the goose was taking a lunch break. Seemingly disinterested in one another, the goose and the mallards went their separate ways.

The bank on the eastern edge of the pond is warmed by the afternoon sun. Many of the Hideaway critters– turtles, snakes, birds, etc–enjoy relaxing and sunning themselves there. The mallards, after exploring and having a watery snack, shook themselves dry and spent an hour warming themselves. Just before sunset they took to the air. Off on the avian highway. Destination some unknown place far, far north.

“Tonight I heard the wild goose cry
Hanging north in the lonely sky–”
“The Wild Goose”–Frankie Lane

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Things around the pond have involved ultra rapid action today. Thus it has been impossible to capture a digital version of the excitement. Just as well. The duck police would probably have absconded with it anyway. So please have faith in the following account. And a smidgeon of imagination.

We found two male wood ducks already on the pond when we arrived on the porch for lunch. They dabbled around the island for about an hour. A female wood duck then splashed down, quickly getting their attention. They flew directly to the female, inspiring her to take immediately to the air. (Wood ducks have notably poor “pickup lines”). They circled the island twice at an altitude of 2 ft, the female in the lead and the males in swift pursuit. They then buzzed the house, splashing down next to the island.

Whereupon the female and one of the males indulged in some of the most vulgar distasteful x-rated aquatic acrobatics we’ve ever witnessed. You don’t wanna know. We had to avert our eyes.

The amorous pair then flew away, leaving the second male the odd man out. The poor thing sulked in the high grass for the rest of the afternoon. Even the noisy splash down of an arriving mallard failed to arouse his interest. Nor the geese, as they did their evening waltz around the island.

Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. —Alfred Lord Tennyson.

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A noisy storm was in full voice as we had breakfast on the porch yesterday. Inspiring early morning entertainment. A dark overcast, rain and gusty wind had turned Spring into an angry lady. Gray clouds scudded southward under a black sky. The pond surface was polished obsidian and wind driven cats’ paws of rain zig zagged across its face.

A quartet of intrepid wood ducks near the island decided to brave the gusts and lofted northward, only to change their minds and splash down in the back of the pond. Not instrument rated for such heavy weather, I guess.

Mother Goose sat unperturbed, as heavy rain assaulted her and drenched her royal throne. No wonder goslings can swim directly from the shell.

The foul weather, I’m happy to say, didn’t deter her from briefly abandoning her nest for a short sashay around the island with her mate. So loyal and touching is goosean love.

Things continued much the soggy same for the remainder of the day. A solitary, tired wood duck slogged in seeking a bed in the high grass as a wan and dripping sun found a brief crack in the overcast. And slowly faded to black.

An interesting migration season this year. Hideaway Pond has been fully booked for two months by migrating visitors. They’ve been the usual mix, primarily hooded mergansers, mallards and wood ducks. One thing that has stood out has been the large number of wood ducks. Normally shy and fewer in number than our other avian visitors, the little guys are all over the place this year.

No complaints. Wood ducks are among the most beautiful and endearing of North American birds. The Beau Brummells of the avian world. And they’re welcome at our humble little way station any time. In fact, there are six on the pond as I type.

And in case one wonders about their name, three of them left the pond this afternoon. They explored the woods behind our house for a half hour before flying back to the pond. Once there, they continued their exploration. They grew curious about the nesting goose. So they assembled at the edge of the island near where she sat regally upon her nest. There to stare at her royal gooseness. In avian awe.

About half the size of a mallard, wood ducks are fun to watch. They swim twice as fast as most ducks. Miniature skiffs. A streak of silver in their wake.

We continue to hope that a pair of them might favor us by taking up residence in our tree mounted duck house. Woe is us. They’ll no doubt jilt us, once again. They harken to the call of the wild north wind.

A busy day around the pond. Some mallards launched noisily off as we went onto the porch for breakfast. They must have spent the night in high grass at the back of the pond. A favorite spot for transient avian overnighters. Free of charge. A male wood duck suddenly showed up in mid-afternoon. It swam alone for a while. Migrating birds seldom fly solo. So we speculate that its mate might be preparing a nest in a tree somewhere. Wood ducks are tree dwellers. Another pair of wood ducks splashed down shortly before sunset. Night guests, I assume.

The geese are expecting. She warms a nest on the island as he floats, asleep and oblivious. She will come off the nest at sunset and do a brief pas de deux around the island with him before returning to the nest. This pair has become annual visitors. Geese mate for life and tend to return each year to the place of their origin. Or to a luxurious venue like Hideaway Pond. Nothing more on that front but to play a waiting game. 28 days. Sitting on eggs. What a great life!

A young buck wandered by during late afternoon. Sans antlers. Which, in the case of a young buck, are “buttons” (small knobs, the beginning stage of antler development). Or “spikes”, which are–well–spikes (the next stage of antler development). Buck deer lose interest in sex and drop their antlers after rutting season (late autumn or early winter). Which can be rather embarrassing to a sensitive young buck. Full antlers are usually displayed in late summer by slightly older and more self assured male deer. However, our young friend will be happy to know that white deer antler is one of the fastest growing materials known to man. Men who really care about such things. As you can see in the photo, he looks a bit shabby because he is changing from his winter gray wardrobe to his classy summer rust hued regalia. Meanwhile, he may be a bit embarrassed by his naïve youth and semi-nudity. And antlerlessness. As wouldn’t we all.

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