Gardens: Dead Birds: Ravens
I went out this morning and started facing the ravages of winter on my yard and garden. The snow is all but melted. We are all a year older.
Perennial intensive, my method of gardening is 'tough love.' While my neighbors cut back all the spent plants, go out and collect seaweed and pine branches to protect the roots from winter kill; I watch my astilbe, tiger lilies, bee balm and all the others die upright. Depending on the plant either their once green stems keep standing all winter, turning brown or bone beige and hollow; or they slumped limp in October's monsoons. I force them by my lack of action to draw from what nature gave them as a source of food and protection, themselves. It makes for an ugly brown mess in the spring. What once was individual leaves is now a solid mass of decomposing sludge with a dry crust on top. Some plants leave long blackened fronds of last summer tangled up like a nest. The weave of the tapestry of death is a little different for each plant, but it is all shades of brown to the extreme black.
When looking closely this morning, but not disturbing the crusts or nests (we still have over a month of killer frost lurking) I could see tiny fingers of succulent green flesh squeezing out of the cold black dirt. A few of the plants at this embryonic state are pinkish and white, instead of green. They all look like plants that you might see underwater and never know the name of.
I clipped the molding, spongy rose hips from my wild white rose bush. Its thorns snagged me again. I cannot understand why after so many years it does not trust me.
Also, I found the feathery remains of a dead bird laying on one of the rocks bordering a garden area. The placement of the bird I found today told me it hit one of my windows. Usually during the summer they fly unawares into one my front windows. Sometimes I can go out and hold them while they recover the shock. Usually I can tell by the sound of how hard they hit whether it was a fatal blow.
Last summer, I only had one fatality that I knew of, it was a little pine siskin. Also last summer, we had a pair of ravens build a nest in the back yard. It is not a typical 'back yard' it is a small spot of old growth forest. The tree they built their nest in is a large old pine. So I got to watch this pair of ravens work in tandem taking care of the nest and going out for food. Their work seemed endless. Back to the siskin, it hit the window and death was instant. I got a piece of cardboard to carry it on and took it to the end of my driveway, hoping one of the raven's would spot it and have an easy meal. Within a few minutes one of the large black birds landed in the road and surveyed the scene before hopping over to the bird. I expected it to just pick it up and fly off. Instead, holding the tiny body down with its feet it meticulously plucked the bird. I can still picture the tiny feathers drifting down the road in small wisps pushed by a light breeze.
Perennial intensive, my method of gardening is 'tough love.' While my neighbors cut back all the spent plants, go out and collect seaweed and pine branches to protect the roots from winter kill; I watch my astilbe, tiger lilies, bee balm and all the others die upright. Depending on the plant either their once green stems keep standing all winter, turning brown or bone beige and hollow; or they slumped limp in October's monsoons. I force them by my lack of action to draw from what nature gave them as a source of food and protection, themselves. It makes for an ugly brown mess in the spring. What once was individual leaves is now a solid mass of decomposing sludge with a dry crust on top. Some plants leave long blackened fronds of last summer tangled up like a nest. The weave of the tapestry of death is a little different for each plant, but it is all shades of brown to the extreme black.
When looking closely this morning, but not disturbing the crusts or nests (we still have over a month of killer frost lurking) I could see tiny fingers of succulent green flesh squeezing out of the cold black dirt. A few of the plants at this embryonic state are pinkish and white, instead of green. They all look like plants that you might see underwater and never know the name of.
I clipped the molding, spongy rose hips from my wild white rose bush. Its thorns snagged me again. I cannot understand why after so many years it does not trust me.
Also, I found the feathery remains of a dead bird laying on one of the rocks bordering a garden area. The placement of the bird I found today told me it hit one of my windows. Usually during the summer they fly unawares into one my front windows. Sometimes I can go out and hold them while they recover the shock. Usually I can tell by the sound of how hard they hit whether it was a fatal blow.
Last summer, I only had one fatality that I knew of, it was a little pine siskin. Also last summer, we had a pair of ravens build a nest in the back yard. It is not a typical 'back yard' it is a small spot of old growth forest. The tree they built their nest in is a large old pine. So I got to watch this pair of ravens work in tandem taking care of the nest and going out for food. Their work seemed endless. Back to the siskin, it hit the window and death was instant. I got a piece of cardboard to carry it on and took it to the end of my driveway, hoping one of the raven's would spot it and have an easy meal. Within a few minutes one of the large black birds landed in the road and surveyed the scene before hopping over to the bird. I expected it to just pick it up and fly off. Instead, holding the tiny body down with its feet it meticulously plucked the bird. I can still picture the tiny feathers drifting down the road in small wisps pushed by a light breeze.
posted by Laurie at
1:13 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home