“Mind your elders,” they say. And so today I did.
It all began when I stood by a river in expectation of spying a few dragonfly exoskeletons. Low temperatures of late mixed in with lots of rain, however, meant that while the Black Fly and Mosquito populations are on the high side, the dragonflies have been slow to delight us with their presence. But . . . while I looked my eyes began to focus on another bug. On small saplings of Hemlock and others along the river bank, I found numerous takes on the same insect. Though winged, none of them appeared to be in a great hurry.
While I looked about, I realized that they weren’t the only ones who chose to stand rather still. The same was true of the Mayflies recently hatched, their eyes so big, bodies so striped, and mouths non-existent for eating was not their prime duty. Mating was the name of the Mayfly game.
And it appeared that others had the same intention in mind. And so I continued to circle back to them in my usual stalking routine.
“My, what long antennae you have.”
“The better to stroke you with, my dear.”
While I looked about, a bird flew in. My initial reaction: a thrush. More specifically: a Hermit Thrush. But . . . recently I’d learned that what I thought was a Hermit turned out to be a Swainson’s Thrush–a species I tended to ignore because I didn’t realize it might be a possibility in western Maine, until it was. And in the past two weeks, I’ve had three occasions upon which to make its acquaintance.
What I’m learning to note is its buffy eye ring and consistent color. I’m not a great birder, and don’t ask me about sound. Though I was raised in a musical family, the gene somehow was dropped from my DNA. I find that I appreciate the songs and calls that I hear. In fact, my life is enlightened by the morning orchestra. But . . . don’t ask me to repeat a note for it goes in one ear, out the other, and continues on into the forest reverberating against bark and leaves and illuminating the world in a manner ethereal–just not one I can remember.
As for the resident bugs, I found one that had bird droppings on it, but somehow it had managed to avoid becoming dinner. So far.
While I looked about, a bird of another sort made itself known–via a pellet filled with hair and bones.
Meanwhile, back on the first Hemlock sapling, I overheard this:
“Do you want to see me Hemlock needle collection?”
“Oh yes, please. I thought you’d never ask.”
While I looked about, I also noticed Starflowers in bloom, their tender blossoms practically imitating the leaves below.
Back at the ranch, or rather branch, the dance had finally begun. It was a slow one, indeed.
While I looked about, one with much more speed scurried across the forest floor. Where’s Waldo Spider? Do you see him?
And on the branch the slow dance continued as the partners spent time getting to know each other.
While I looked about, ants ran up and down stems all around on a quest I couldn’t quite understand, though I’m sure there was sugar involved.
On the branch: He stepped in closer with his left foot and she with the right as they began to Rumba.
While I looked about, I realized other insects had become meals so caught were they in the tangle of a web.
On another sapling, others waited to cut in. It’s a recognized practice to cut in. The guy who wants to cut taps the gal’s partner quietly on the shoulder. The dancer must let her go both courteously and cheerfully. She, of course, has no choice in the matter.
On the branch: He was going to allow no one to cut in. And she felt the same.
While I looked about, I discovered a white Lady’s Slipper not yet in full bloom, but when it does, it will be the perfect dance shoe.
When I at last left, the couple continued to explore each other, though mating doesn’t typically take place until nighttime. I guess this male was ready to get a head start. After all, their window of opportunity isn’t long, so they must make hay while the sun doth shine.
Because of these elder Alderflies, I had the honor to see and learn so much today.