2006-04-24, 05:57 AM — my poor brain
Ugh. 5:30am is a time no human should have to face.
2006-04-16, 02:59 PM — went back again
Today's gorgeous spring walk produced a pair of red-tailed hawks and a half-dozen tree swallows, not to mention many, many ring-necked ducks again. The canvasbacks are still there, and there were common mergansers this time, too. Everyone else must have been off fishing or some such thing.
New today were a pair of ospreys and a field sparrow who had been tempting me with his calls. He let us have a really good look today, though.
2006-04-15, 06:25 PM — two semi-obscure references
I am feeling very restless today, a vague sense of unease just under my skin. I don't know whether it's just my reaction to spring, or whether there's something more going on. I feel a little like Neko Case's tiger on a chain. If I let myself, I could pace and pace in circles until I go insane. It may be spring or it may be something else.
It may also have something to do with the perennial discomfort and sadness associated with being someone who notices nature and cares about what I see. I suspect I'm not alone in having a constant shadow of worry keeping me vigilant -- are there less frogs around this year than there were last year? Is it just me, or is it harder to find warblers? Weren't there more blue-winged teals around at this time last year? How are the trees dealing with this bizarrely warm and stormy weather?
"Biophilia," E. O. Wilson calls it. It can be an uncomfortable passion, loving the living world around me. But it's also a source of great joy for me; and so if sometimes I'm a little sad, I can take that for the wonder and amazement I feel at other times. I can't imagine living in a silent, concrete world. I prefer the birdsong and the frogsong.