BRAD WOODGER
508-627-4216
The morning belongs to the birds. At 5:30 Sunday morning the harbor was glass — the yacht lights reflecting off the water like night lights in a mirror. No voices, no motors running, absolute quiet. Except for the birds. And they were noisy. Like school children at morning recess, they shouted and called to one another, flitted here and there, argued a bit, and milled about the grounds. A lone cormorant sat quietly on our out-haul post, too goofy to be aloof, but seemingly content to be alone and unengaged. Finches (I call all small birds finches) littered my lawn like barely-animate pine cones. A robin couple stumbled about, barely awake. The crows, of course, hopped about and yelled as if they owned the place — which they do, being 10 times the size of the finches and almost as numerous. The seagulls called to one another in those oddly human voices — overly emotional and dramatic in all their dealings. “Heyyyyyy — I saw that first! That’s my crab!!!” “Is not!!.” And the intriguing thing is that each group of birds did their own thing, unbothered by the goings-on of the others. I’m sure there’s a lesson there to be learned, but I just enjoy the spectacle.
Later in the day, the birds try to prevail but are joined by people and bunnies, digs and trucks. The crows, and the occasional hawk or osprey, will make itself known with a piercing cry (I’m sorry, I love ospreys, beautiful birds, but when they get going with high-pitched bleat, I really want to yell “shut up!”). The crows chatter non-stop, and seagulls continue to call out “braaaaad!”. What? Who?
Their singularity of morning presence is lost, however, in the hubbub of day.
Later, much later, after even the crickets and peepers have retired, the night birds can be heard. Owls...and whatever else it is I hear . . . chat with far less clamor and frequency that their morning brethren. Their chatter is more like the appearance of the jet lights overhead; unpredictable and uncommon. They call to one another as if a thought only just occurred to them.
“Tom? . . . Tom? . . . Tom?”
“Yeah?”
“You up?”
“Yes”
“Yeah, me too”.
I was in Alaska the week previous to this and saw only two birds — both ospreys — the entire time. Chappy is amazing. Simply amazing.
I saw Brad and Paige Dagget today. They took their bikes and two of their five children from the tennis courts to my place to say hi. The bikes weren’t very talkative. I was a great host — sweaty, and stuck-to with wood chips and offered little in the way of refreshment other than the drips off my salted skin. They, however, were great guests, staying only briefly but offering warm hellos and good tidings. Brad Dagget was particularly happy to be Chappy-side, calling it “rehab with cocktails.”
No CCC news or otherwise noteworthy happenings that I’ve been made aware of. Chappy seems to wind down earlier and earlier each year. I would, however, like to alert people to the following:
The Martha’s Vineyard Animal Shelter is holding a Walk for the Animals on Saturday, Oct. 6, from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at Trade Winds Park in Oak Bluffs (raindate is Monday, Oct. 8) and they need volunteers for a variety of jobs. These include manning the water stops, helping with registration, handing out awards and lots of other activities. There will be time for you to walk with your pet as well. If you are able to help with the event, please call Pat Adler at 508-696-5901, or Duncan Ross at 508-693-0541 to sign up.
It’s good to be back home.
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