Micro-Dosing this Magical Season
About blue jays, red foxes, black vultures, and blue skies
A Curious Nature is a weekly dose of curiosity and inspiration delivered to your email inbox each Sunday. Featuring my essays and stories about the natural world, as well as journaling prompts and works from some of my favorite writers, I hope to provide readers with kindling for your own creative fire and insights about the natural world. Mostly, I hope to nurture a community for curiosity and wonder. Thank you for being here as a reader or subscriber, a commentor or contributor, a curious companion.
I cannot get enough of Spring this year. It is a season of somersaulting delights down a clover-covered hill. I try not to get ahead of myself anticipating the next flower, the next birdsong, the next set of babies hatched or born. I reach for field guides and binoculars many times each day. If wonder came in a micro-dosing bottle, like ginger or turmeric shots, Spring would be the time to fill many containers to nourish us through those wet-hot mosquito-y July days and gray-brown February mornings.
As much as I try to inhale every note of these ever-changing days, their speed leaves me gasping and grasping, wishing every leaf and petal would unfurl just a bit more slowly. In an attempt to slow-motion all the minutes and moments, I unroll my yoga mat more often and lay on the floor near a window where I might remember to be curious rather than anxious. To wonder what I might see.
Several days ago, I did this in an open area of my bedroom with windows facing down the hill to the spring-fed creeks. I look out those windows with every pass by, though I nearly always look down. Glances have yielded topside views of red-shouldered hawks, a lone fox moving through the trees with his bouncy walk (there’s a reason it’s called the foxtrot), and an eight-point buck sporting velvet-covered antlers chewing a path through the summer grasses.
But laying on the floor with a skyward view out the window was an entirely new perspective.
It took seconds to see two birds coming and going from a small area where the white oak tree limb branches off in three directions. Against a bright gray sky, I could only see silhouettes. But long tails flicked with each visit to the site, delivering small pieces of what looked like straw. They’d place a mouthful of nesting material, then hop in circles, tamping it down, before flicking the tail again and speeding off for the next batch. Maybe blue jays, I thought.
Shifting sun. Different light. Binoculars. Blue Jays, indeed. Yet another bird has come along to say ‘hey, get to know more about me.’ You see, I don’t particularly love blue jays. They are (in my opinion) the rascals in the forest canopy. They mock more than mockingbirds do. They pretend to be hawks and have too often succeeded in fooling me! They bother my sweet songbirds. Perhaps they didn’t get the memo. Snow White lives here, and we all get along peacefully here. (Allow me this delusion…momentarily.)
My neighbor and I often text each other with our various sightings—her front porch nest of Eastern Phoebes. My Red-Throated Hummingbirds returned from South America. The pair of Pileated Woodpeckers enjoying the buffet of bugs in her front yard tree stump. My Eastern Bluebird eggs and, of course, the Black Vultures.
A couple of weeks ago, she won the nature lottery. A male and female Red Fox couple made a den just down the hill, and four bouncy, fluffy kits have emerged! We know this because of the perfectly placed trail cam she and her husband set up to watch their comings, goings, and feedings. These videos are magic!
Just a few days ago, an entire bunny family hopped frantically around my driveway under the glare of my headlights. The babies were panicked and unsure where to hide, eventually seeking solace among the dark honeysuckle bushes that border the driveway. Before we knew of the fox family’s den, I spotted a fox casually trotting down my driveway, where it ducked into the woods near those same honeysuckle bushes. (Predators. Prey. Nature. I see the magic and appreciate the realities.) I hope the bunnies survive. I hope the kits survive.
I hope the mama bluebird, gobbling up mealworms daily to feed her five hatchlings, can nurture them until they fledge in about two weeks, filling the tree canopy with more song.
This week will be special simply because it is Spring, and every day is a wonder. It may be especially remarkable should both Black Vulture eggs hatch. Their ‘due date’ is between April 17 and 19.
Only once have both eggs hatched. That happened in 2022 when the male adult returned to my old barn with a new mate (after the female went missing in 2021). You can read a bit more about that here and here.
In past years, I’ve noticed that the Black Vulture parents start to move the eggs around much more as hatching nears. They’ve spent 30+ days brooding both eggs in a small corner of the barn, rolling and shifting them slightly nearly every hour. But these last several days, they have moved the eggs several feet back and forth throughout the day and night. With every notification from the trail cam, I zoom in to examine any changes in the eggs. Hopefully, next week, I’ll be able to report good news!
Until then, take some moments – as many of them as you can – to go for a walk, look closely at the flowers, lay on the floor or the ground, and look up. Or even take a super close look at a black and white trail-cam image. Who knows what you might see!
Currently Reading…
A most remarkable list of Substack nature writers curated by
writer of Fearless Green. I’m thrilled to be included in this list and am exploring the terrific writers Rebecca’s highlights.Incidentally, not only is Substack a place for wonderful writing on a wide array of topics, but it is also a bit of a refuge from the ‘noise’ of most social networks. It’s a place for community and conversations, and people uplifting each other. I encourage you to explore Substack on the web or via the app.
Just four minutes…
Or even one…near a rushing river. Burgess Falls State Park | Tennessee.
Journaling prompt…
I'm borrowing this from my writing group. It instituted the writing I'm sharing today and I hope it inspires you.
Write about what someone would see if they could see the world through your eyes.
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Thank you!
Wow. The amount of nature you see is incredible. Jealous.
Ah how wonderful it would be to have a bottle of spring wonder to see us through the rest of the year! Lovely stuff and I’m looking forward to seeing a vulture chick!