End of Spring Bird Tally

In April and early May it's all about the songs of courtship here in southern Ohio. Now, late May it seems to be all about the fighting to defend breeding territory and resources. Males are diving and chasing one another, while some females are already feeding babies and training fledglings.

In northern Ohio...Magee Marsh to be exact...birders were still getting good sightings as migrants tank up on caterpillars and insects in the surrounding wetlands and forests for their journeys even further north. I am experiencing a tinge of regret that I didn't make a second trip up after going at the end of April before The Biggest Week in American Birding began. The Facebook reports and photos from the boardwalk indicated a convergence of warblers, good weather and good winds. But I wanted to take a beginning birder friend who had never been on the boardwalk before, and not overwhelm her with the crowds that would show up the following weekend. We had a good time together, saw some beautiful warblers, and she got started on her life list.

While I love going to other places where warblers congregate, I love taking my binoculars and camera out at Prairie Pond Woods even more. There is such a comfort knowing which habitat...prairie, pond, woods, thicket or riparia...I can walk to so I can spot the Common Yellowthroat or Scarlet Tanager or Yellow-throated Warbler. No, I don't get some of the sexier warblers, but these birds on my list are like returning friends. Many have probably made the long journey and returned here year after year. That warms my heart. Every spring, when I hear the first song or see the first migrant I always make a point to say hello out loud and welcome them back.

Below is a list (in taxonomic order) I like to tally of the birds that were seen or heard at Prairie Pond Woods this March, April & May 2016. Since I am not always at the retreat, if I hear a bird, I am confident that given enough time I would have seen it...or have seen it other years. For this reason, I am sure I am also missing a few warblers whose songs I am still not familiar enough with to confirm. I've thrown in a photo or two...I am not the best at capturing rapidly moving creatures against the sky or hiding within foliage...so you'll have to use a bit of your imagination!

Great Blue Heron

Black Vulture

Turkey Vulture

Canada Goose

Wood Duck

Cooper's Hawk (who is this Cooper?)

Red-shouldered Hawk

Red-tailded Hawk

 Wild Turkey

American Woodcock

Mourning Dove

Yellow Billed Cuckoo

Barred Owl

Chuck-will'-widow

Whip-poor-Will

Ruby-throated Humming Bird

Belted Kingfisher

Red-bellied Woodpecker

Yellow-bellied Sapsucker

Downy Woodpecker

Hairy Woodpecker

Northern Flicker

Pileated Woodpecker

Eastern Wood Pee-wee

Eastern Phoebe

White-eyed Vireo

Warbling Vireo

Yellow-throated Vireo

Red-eyed Vireo

Blue Jay

American Crow

Tree Swallow

Carolina Chickadee

Tufted Titmouse

White-breasted Nuthatch

Carolina Wren

House Wren

Golden-crowned Kinglet

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

Blue-grey Gnatcatcher

Eastern Bluebird

Swainson's Thrush

Wood Thrush

American Robin

Gray Catbird

Brown Thrasher

Blue-winged Warbler

Northern Parula

Magnolia Warbler*

Cape May

 Yellow-rumped Warbler

Yellow-throated Warbler

Pine Warbler

Prairie Warbler

American Redstart

Worm-Eating Warbler

Ovenbird

Northern Waterthrush

Common Yellowthroat

Hooded Warbler

Yellow-breasted Chat

Scarlet Tanager

Eastern Towhee

American Tree Sparrow

Chipping Sparrow

Field Sparrow

Song Sparrow

White-crowned Sparrow

White-throated Sparrow

Dark-eyed Junco

Northern Cardinal

Rose-breasted Grosbeak

Indigo Bunting

Red-winged Blackbird

Brown-headed Cowbird

Baltimore Oriole

House Finch

American Goldfinch

That's a total of 79 species...well short of the overall 98 species recorded at

Prairie Pond Woods

Craig’s Remembrance 2018: The Day After

The clean cups and paper plates are stacked together, the dirty ones bagged up in the trash, and the floor vacuumed. That’s all I’ll do for today because I’m tired of tasking and the weather is so nice I refuse to stay inside. So, I am sitting by the tent in the canopied yard, surrounded by a ring of green and six empty chairs, only five of which I own. Something always gets forgotten and left behind. I am processing last night’s wonderful, rain-free evening spent with twenty-five or so of our friends.

 

We remembered Craig Allen Steffen, as I threw out baseballs with his best traits written on them. Through stories, we collectively called to mind what was good about Craig – his generosity, his compassion, his strategic thinking, his spiritual and practical wisdom, his love, etc. – and his not-so-good occasional road rage.

We remembered, in unison, that Craig was faithful, capable, strong and solid. So fittingly, I unveiled this Rock, which will forever sit on our property. We dedicated it to him by raising a toast with some of his homemade wine.

For months leading up to the Remembrance, I kept trying to think of a tree to plant as a memorial to him. Nothing seemed to pop out as representing Craig. About three weeks before, I was having a quiet morning on the deck, running a list of trees and their characteristics through my head one more time. Suddenly these words barged in and interrupted my thoughts: “Craig is a Rock.” My eyes widened, and I think I may have said out loud, “That’s true!” He was certainly my rock; the one I counted on for wisdom and practical support. And he was certainly a rock for others, always being called up to help and get the job done. He was who you reached for in a crisis. Even the origin of his name is crag, which is a jutting rock.

 

We also honored him with poetry or just simple words from our hearts. I started the time of sharing by reading a poem by Jan Richardson, entitled The Blessing You Should Not Tell Me, from her book, The Cure for Sorrow. Part of it reads:

"Give me instead
the blessing
of asking about him -
how we met
or what I loved most
about the life
we have shared;
ask for a story
or tell me one
because a story is, finally,
the only place on earth

he lives now."

Greg Belliveau shared the poem When Great Trees Fall by Maya Angelou, which was very moving. And Adam Nyberg read a poem by a poet from his home country, Sweden, entitled, In Motion, about the journeys we are all on.

When you host a gathering of people, often your mind is focused on the details – does the water jug need refilled, is the BBQ burning in the crockpot, are there enough chairs? I wish I could have spent longer time with each and every one there, sharing even more personal stories of Craig between us. But as the evening came to an end and we were sharing our good-byes, I heard other stories of meaningful connections; connections made between friends who didn’t know each other before last night; or re-connections that held tinges of nostalgia and healing. How beautiful. How Craig.

One friend said the gathering felt like a family reunion. It did. As someone who recently discovered he had multiple families, I think Craig would love that description of those who came together to honor him and his life.

 Elizabeth & Adam Nyberg

 Andrea Sharing

 Barb & Darlene

 Dan & Kerry

 Julie & Darlene

 Greg & Meg

 Greg & Rob

 Kate & Andy

 Keith & Rennes

 Kerry Sharing a story of Craig

The week before the Remembrance, it rained everyday or was steamy and wet, so I was not able to create the "look" I wanted to unveil. A few days later, when the weather was cool and breezy, I went out to landscape the boulder. Five wagon loads of rock and two bags of mulch later (still need one more!), I was done. Craig loved to feed people, and he was an excellent cook. So, in the spring I will hang an Oriole feeder from the pole. In summer, a hummingbird feeder. And in winter, a suet feeder. My goal is to create a bigger rock garden containing rocks that friends would like to add, and one that has the quote inscribed on it from Craig's book:

We journey forward without fear...

DAY 18

The anxiousness continues each morning and seems to grow day by day. It passes for a short time if I have a good cry and sob deeply...or longer if I take the anti-anxiety drugs. But lately tears don't seem to come, only a numbness. I don't know why and I don't like it. A therapist friend on Facebook tells me this numbness is to keep all the sadness from hitting at once. She says it is to protect us...much like the shock of a physical injury.

My best friend, also a therapist, tells me the anxiety is my "fight or flight" instinct kicking in...another protection from harm. But there is nothing or no one to fight and no where to run. And even if there was a place to go, I'm not sure I have the energy to go there. My world is sadly becoming my recliner in my TV room. It's where I want to be. I don't want to be coaxed out right now. I don't want to be invited anywhere. I just want to be here...no, I actually don't want this to be my existence...but this is all I can do right now.

This morning as I thought about that state of fear that forces us to choose one escape or the other, I figured the only thing left to do is to choose a third option: Surrender. Surrender to the pain. Surrender to the process. Surrender to the goodness and mercy of God. But what does that even mean? Reading words on a page, scripture or other spiritual writings, just seem to stay in my head...not travel deep to where I need it the most...my heart, my soul, my spirit.  All this is a mystery. 

I keep saying I want Craig back. I keep crying that I want everything back the way it was. But that will never happen. At some point...and I don't know when that will be or if it is even just gradually happening now...I will have to move beyond my old, wonderful life. I will have to co-create my life with God. But for now I must learn to surrender to the grief.

So again, I invoke the mustard seed of faith in my broken heart and say:

I surrender to you Creator. Or want to.

Take me captive and heal me.