Coyote pups in the woods!

Coyote pups in the woods!

Look closely at the photo Molly Hale, Wildlife Biologist at Conservation Works in Northhampton MA sent me of a coyote pup. She came across a den site and wrote this, “There were at least three and the others were scuttled off by mama before I could get my camera out. But this one was a little behind the curve, or maybe had been sleeping, so didn’t go off with the others. They were so cute–still wobbly on the feet, little tails about 6″ long with only short fuzzy hair. I’m thinking coyote rather than fox now because they were under a log, not in a burrow, and because of the lack of black on the front legs. They were at the edge of an acre-size impenetrable shrub/vine tangle–just the kind of place people would never...
Whew, it’s hot!

Whew, it’s hot!

There’s nothing like August to bring on the heat.  I spent yesterday scouting a trail on Spruce Mill Brook that included the edge of a cornfield.  The missing piece of this cob suggested a bear was snacking but the surrounding tracks were all white tail deer.  We found a number of cobs deep in the woods where the thief had clearly gone for...
Barred Owl

Barred Owl

A friend let me know she had seen an owl every day this week, sitting in the same place along the roadside. I checked it out on the way back from an outing this morning.  It stared at me for several minutes but flew into the white pines across the street when I approached too closely.  They are beautiful birds and seem to be high in numbers this...

Kingbird Highway

I am reading a book called Kingbird Highway by Kenn Kaufman.  In the 1970’s, he is traveling the United States trying to set a record, to see 650 different birds in one year.  He is hitchhiking and camping and has lost 35 lbs. It’s not surprising that the subtitle is The Story of a Natural Obsession that Got a Little Out of Hand. This is the Preface: “People always called us ‘birdwatchers.’  But if we had been, there would be no story to tell. Nothing could have been simpler than ‘birdwatching.’ An activity that by name would have required nothing more than one person, alone, watching birds, any birds.  The birds rarely would have watchd the person in return: perfectly independent, birds had no reason to care about humans.  So the watching would have been one-way, and the matter would have ended there, with no ramifications. But in the early 1970’s, we were not birdwatching.  We were birding, and that made all the difference.  We were out to seek, to discover, to chase, to learn, to find as many different kinds of birds as possible–and, in friendly competition, to try to find more of them than the next birder. We became a community of birders… …This is the story about that time.  I was fortunate enough to be traveling throughout North America, in pursuit of birds, during that formative era.  It was a good time to be on the road, a good time to be very young, a good time to learn and travel and grow while we played this great new game called birding.” If only that game...