"You can observe a lot by just watching" -- Laurence Peter Berra

This past Sunday Sally and I decided to have church outside. Our weather has been so quirky this winter and early spring that we have not been able to indulge in much outdoor recreation; we were hungry for the sort of spiritual renewal that only a good dose of contact with the natural world can provide. Although the previous week had been chilly and generally nasty, with biting winds and even a surprise (and surprisingly heavy) snowfall at the end of the week, the day promised to be much more pleasant. So, with hiking boots on our feet and binoculars in hand, we ventured out.

After a stop at the Maine Diner in Wells for some pre-hike sustenance, we headed for the Wells Reserve. The site of an old farm, the Reserve is a favorite destination for  many area birders, walkers, and general nature lovers. It encompasses a marvelous range of habitats: mixed woodlands, open meadows, overgrown orchard & pasture, marshland, and oceanfront; there's an extensive trail system through the property that allows visitors to sample them all.

The annual spring migration is just in the early stages, so our expectations for seeing a lot of birds were rather low. We hoped perhaps to pick up a few FOYs (birderspeak for "first of year") and since our primary objective was simply to get outside, we figured that any sightings would be gravy; we'd be happy with whatever birds we happened to see.

Things were, indeed, quite slow on the birding front, but we managed to conjure up a few interesting species: a pair of American Kestrels; a half-dozen or more Turkey Vultures;  a gorgeous Great Blue Heron; a couple of Eastern Phoebes; several White-breasted Nuthatches; a few Song Sparrows; numerous American Robins; and the odd Canada Goose or so.

The relative dearth of birdlife notwithstanding, this is an interesting time of year to be out and about in the woods and fields. The snow is almost all gone--the new that fell on Friday disappeared almost as quickly as it came--so, apart from a bit of mud, the trails are all clear. It will be another few weeks before the foliage opens up, so many things are visible now that won't be once the trees and bushes leaf out. Signs of seasonal change are plentiful. One aspect of this re-awakening that we quite enjoyed seeing was the emergent Skunk Cabbage which was abundant in the wet areas near the edge of the marsh. Whatever unpleasant associations its name might invoke, it is really quite beautiful in its early phases of maturation. The flower looks something like a sea urchin without its spines. It is usually concealed by the leaves, but lies exposed in the plant in the photo above right, on which the leaves have been either broken off or eaten. (Click on this--and any other photo--to enlarge it.)

 

Our route had taken us first down the Knight Trail (see map) through the old orchard, then to the beach and back via the Barrier Beach Trail. From there we strolled the boardwalk of the Laird-Norton Trail, which connects with the Farley Trail. There is a (welcome) bench on the Farley Trail, in the vicinity of the marker for the trail on the map. This is a favorite spot to stop for a bit, not only to rest our old legs but also because it offers a fine opportunity to sit quietly and observe whatever the local avifauna might be up to.

The photo at the top of this post shows our view from the bench. Note the small island of brush across the open field from the sitters' vantage point; this provides excellent cover for birds and other critters. The area around the bench is similarly bird-friendly. There are several old apple trees and, again, a good deal of brush; see the photo to the right.

For the first few minutes that we sat there we saw no birds moving around but, soon enough, the wisdom of Yogi Berra, and his words that serve as the title for this post, was revealed. Sally spotted a raptor flying high overhead, high enough so we could not discern much in the way of marking. But the long, pointed wings, slim tail, somewhat-smaller-than-a-crow size, general coloration, and the occasional glimpse of patterning on its face made the ID fairly easy: Peregrine Falcon. His or her presence may have accounted for the lack of activity on the part of any smaller birds closer to our level, though it was high enough to perhaps have been undetectable by any songbirds. And the Peregrine gave no indication of being on the lookout for Sunday brunch.

There may or may not have been any cause-and-effect at work here, but soon after the falcon passed over, the action around us began to pick up. We spotted another Kestrel perched atop a tree in the far corner of the field. A Blue Jay soon chased him from his perch. Numerous Robins began searching the field for food. A couple of Song Sparrows started to announce their presence with authority. A male Northern Cardinal flew out of the bushes to our left, traversed the field, and did his best to disappear in the brush in the mid-field brush island. His mate soon followed; she was more successful in concealing herself.

The real treat, though, came as were beginning to think about resuming our walk. When I got up from the bench to take the photo above I was astonished to look up and see a beautiful female Northern Harrier headed in our direction! Neither of us saw where she came from; all of a sudden she was just there. She tilted her way across the field, then came down less than fifty yards from where we were  positioned. She did not stay on the ground long, and did not seem to have caught anything. She soon lifted off again and went on her merry way. We were left with huge smiles on our faces over having had such a close encounter--the closest I've ever had--with such a magnificent bird.

In the 20-30 minutes we spent sitting on the bench our patience had been rewarded many times over. Another sports cliche came to mind as we reminded ourselves that, when birding, it is oftentimes best to "let the game come to you."

We continued our walk along the Farley Trail. Before it went back into the woods we spotted this old nest in the tall grass along the edge of the field. I suspect that it was last year's work of Red-winged Blackbirds. Red-wings are among the species that are just now beginning to arrive in Maine for the summer.

  The woods in this section of the reserve property are dominated by pines. We encountered abundant evidence of the importance of pines as a source of food for denizens of the woods; squirrels had used fallen trees and old stumps for lunch counters as they feasted on pine nuts.



We also ran across reminders, such as this venerable stump girdled by old fencing, that this property had, indeed, once been a working farm.  

At the point where the trail re-emerges from the woods a pair of White-breasted Nuthatches was bopping around the trunk of a large old pine. After watching them for a bit we realized that they were going in and out of a small hole about 10-12 feet up the trunk. A telltale white smear around the bottom arc of the hole was a pretty clear indication that this was their nesting hole! A male Downy Woodpecker was also working the branches of the big pine, finding whatever it is that Downy Woodpeckers find to eat. A bit further on we were delighted to see a Brown Creeper circling his way up a medium-sized Red Maple tree, and making occasional forays to the smaller trees around it.

We finally made our way back to the parking lot, again heeding Yogi's advice by taking every fork in the trail that we came to. Our bodies were a bit tired but our spirits refreshed. I had started the morning in a bad mood but, happily, my grumpiness dissipated somewhere between spotting the first Kestrel and the close encounter with the Harrier. As expected, we had not seen great numbers of birds, but were quite pleased with the variety of species we had found. We took some pleasure in having re-learned, for the umpteenth time, that you can, indeed, observe a lot by just watching.

Coda:
We were rewarded with one final avian treat on our way out of the reserve -- a female Pileated Woodpecker was whanging away at a tree right beside the road, very near the entrance gate. I stopped the car, and since nobody was behind me we sat and watched her for as long as we cared to. She did not seem in the least bit bothered by, or even aware of, our presence. Sweet.

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The Wells Reserve is a local treasure. We feel very fortunate to have such a resource so close at hand and have long been members/supporters. Perhaps some who read this would consider supporting it as well.