I have been posting a lot of sunset photographs from Cape Hedge Beach in Rockport, MA lately. Almost always the sunsets there are dramatic and now you come more and more to recognize the annual march of the sun along its ecliptic. Sunsets move more and more southward this time of year, while sunrises journey more and more northward. It is the beat of the heart of our solar system

There is something else and that is what I like to think of as the “anti-sunset.” So often the clouds diametrically opposed to the sun are bathed in glorious pastel hues as the sun slowly sinks. I say “slowly sinks,” but i realize that I almost contradict myself. This morning I watched the sunrise over Pigeon Cove, over the Old Granite Pier, and it was anything but slow. you could feel it as if it were a race – Old Helios, Circes father, driving his solar chariot across the sky.

I took the image of Figure 1 at Cape Hedge Beach this past Friday – the anti-sunset’s pastel palette brushed on the clouds, hanging over the sea and here seen through the tall grasses.

Sharing today a portrait of my son and daughter-in-law’s dog Zadie looking with curiosity out the window in the morning light. Perhaps she is looking at the doing in the driveway or perhaps she is reflecting on her own reflection in the window. The image demanded tritone!

Yesterday was extremely cold at Great Meadows, but I intrepidly went forth and was delighted to encounter a flocking of tree swallows (Tachycineta bicolor). I am not sure what this is about, migrational arrival, mating, the cold? Maybe a reader knows? I failed to get a good picture of it, but share the image of Figure 1 to document the event.

During my walk I encountered, up close and personal, this gorgeous canada goose (Branta canadensis) and decided to take a tight portrait of him, revealing flecks of grass and seed on his face and, of course, nice bokeh in the background. They can be quite aggressive, especially when protecting fledglings. But this time of year they follow the view that discretion, retreat, and exit is the better part of valor! The image is shown in Figure 2. We get so used to thinking of these birds as pests that we forget to stop and look at just how beautiful and elegant they really are.

Figure 2 – Canada goose, Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge, Concord, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2022

Figure 1 – Canon T2i with EF 100-400 mm f/4.5-5.6 L IS USM lens at 320 mm, ISO 1600 Aperture Priority AE Mode 1/400 sec at f/5.6 with no exposure compensation

Figure 2 – Canon T2i with EF 100-400 mm f/4.5-5.6 L IS USM lens at 235 mm, ISO 1600 Aperture Priority AE Mode 1/3200 sec at f/5.6 with no exposure compensation

The poor little muskrat! So torment by humans saying, “ooh it’s a rat!” In fact and despite the fact that it is a rodent, the muskrat (Ondatra zibethicus)) is much more closely related to the beaver than to the rat. It has, indeed, been referred to as a “musk beaver” rather than a “musk rat.” One encounters these elegant swimmers in the swampy ponds of North America, particularly among the cat tails, which are their major source of found.

Most wonderful is the association between the muskrat and the creation of the world in the mythology of many native American peoples. As an illustrative example, I encourage my readers to read the story of the world’s creation on the webpage of the Oneida Nation. Read it and ponder how similar, but so much more ancient it is than the Judeo-Christian story of creation. Once our world was a water world, devoid of earth. The Great Turtle agreed to have the world built upon his back, but the trouble was that there was no soil. All the creatures tried to dive to the waters bottom to bring back a little mud. The otter who was a great swimmer tried but fail. In the end it was the musk rat who succeeded and the world was created of the soil he brought back mingled with some earth that was taken from the roots of the magical Great World Tree which illuminated, much like the Tree of Wisdom, from the upper world (heaven).

I encountered the little fellow of Figure 1 this past Saturday hiding amongst his breakfast. He seemed to be enjoying the early spring sunshine and feeling quite secure posed for me.

Canon T2i with EF 100-400 f/4.5-5.6 L IS USM lens at 160 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode 1/3200 th sec at f/6.3 with no exposure compensation.

Today was a watershed moment. I finally managed to photograph a mated pair of wood ducks (Aix sponsa) at the Great Woods National Wild Life Refuge – so spectacular in coloration and plumage. We’ll make it a birthday present for the reader whose birthday is today! Happy Birthday, L!

All of these ducks, I find are very difficult to photograph. They always appear to be shy and “keep their social distance.” In this particular case I had walked three miles and was headed back to my car when they appeared right in front of me. I waited for them to turn so that I could see their flanks. The image is a bit contrasty and darkly lit, but I am pretty happy with it.

Wood ducks as their name implies are different from most ducks in that they make their nests in trees, yet are nervous about flying through the woods. As in this case they like to frequent reeded marshlands.

Canon T2i with EF 100-400 f/4.5-5.6 L IS USM lens at 320 mm, ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode 1/4000th sec at f/6.3 with no exposure compensation.

Among the most common of the spring songbirds is the song sparrow (Melospiza melodia). Because they are so common we tend to neglect them, as in, oh it’s just a sparrow. Shakespeare, of course, points out that. “there is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.” And certainly their songs fill the air of a beautiful meadow as if they are there for our delight, such as the fellow of Figure 1 captured at the Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge. It is so nice to hear the birds sing and to feel as though they are a part of a new resurrection, no longer the shivering birds of winter scraping hopefully for seeds.

Canon T2i with EF 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS USM Lens at 220 mm ISO 1600 with Aperture Priority AE Mode 1/4000th sec at f/7.1 ands no exposure compensation.

Following on the Middle English theme of yesterday… “Sumer Is Icumin In” is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, canons in print (circa 1226). And here it is.

Svmer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweþ sed
and bloweþ med
and springþ þe wde nu
Sing cuccu

Awe bleteþ after lomb
lhouþ* after calue cu
Bulluc sterteþ 
Bucke uerteþ

Murie sing cuccu
Cuccu cuccu
Wel singes þu cuccu
ne swik þu nauer nu

Sing cuccu nu. Sing cuccu.
Sing cuccu. Sing cuccu nu.

You want the crib sheet?

*Lhouþ (Lhouth) means “low” which means “moo” (source: OED). 
**There are disagreements over the meaning of uerteþ (verteth). Some proposed definitions are: 
-Farts
-Darts
-Harbour in the green or fern (“vert” coming from the French word for green)

In the Middle English alphabet, the letter þ is a thorn, equivalent to modern th. We substituted “th” in the lyrics below to make it more readable to the modern reader:

In this theme, Great Meadow is teaming with redwings. All the males are screaming for mates. Emphasis on the “s,” because these birds a polygynous and the males spend a lot of time keeping the harem in order. Figure 1 shows a male calling our amount the cattails. “Sing cuccu!”

Firstly, those of you who received blog notification of my post yesterday. The new form of WordPress continues to confound. If you want to see the video of Cape Hedge Beach, you need to “View on a Browser,” always the recommended approach.

Today we’ve got spring! It is everywhere, and the wildlife is reading it as if they consulted a calendar. I went to Great Meadow in Concord, MA and saw: hooded merganzers, redwings, grackles, crows, song sparrows, the season’s first warbler, Canadian geese, swans, scaubs, garter snakes, turtles, beaver,and a juvenile bald eagle. So let’s start the season off right with my favorite duck. The hooded merganzer (Lophodytes cucullatus).

The fellow of Figure 1 was all alone – the lone bachelor. He was not accompanied by any beautiful cinnamon fuzzy-headed females. But they are there as well.

So spring. Hooray! Let’s stick to Geoffrey Chaucer (Prelude to the Canterbury Tales)

BotPresentation

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages),
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages…

And so dear friends, get thee goon into the meadows, beaches, and woodlands!

I know that I have been going on and on here about Cape Hedge Beach. For me it has become a place of center and centering, all through these cold winter months with the roar of surf and crashing waves. There is an omnipresent mist, reminiscent to me of the mythic mists of Avalon, a gateway between spiritual worlds. And there is one other magical point which I have not experienced anywhere else. If you look out over the water the waves seem above you yet you feel protected by an invisible force. Optical illusion?

Figure 1 – Cape Hedge Beach, Rockport, MA (c) DE Wolf 2022

Waves represent mortality. Waves represent immortality. Waves represent the constant. Waves represent the ephemeral. There is ever the pounding beat of an insistent heart.

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crowned,
Crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight,
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

William Shakespeare Sonnet # 60