Went on a walk last weekend in Central Park in honor of Alexander Von Humboldt and the late mycologist Gary Lincoff. We met at the Explorer’s Gate, next to the Humboldt bust. The baby vomit stench of ginkgo fruits, rotting and crushed on the sidewalk, deterred us not.

The venerable American elm behind Alex reaches over the wall to the right and sends branches well below the street level down below to the park level. It’s cosseted by cables linking the outstretching limbs. It’s a good metaphor for the park itself: it takes a lot of support to keep this going, to handle the millions who pour into its bounds every year.

Seen amidst the conversations:
A very pale Mallard variation, presumably a feral domesticated bird.
New York City, baby! Big as a Sherman Tank and just a few feet away from the second most crowded bridge in the park.
Hackberry Star Gall, caused by a psyllid, Pachypsylla celtidisasterisca, a kind of true bug.


A curious thrush.


Some more thoughts on a Green New Deal by the authors of the new book A Planet To Win.

Raptor Wednesday

A parade of Falco species!
Last Thursday afternoon and
then again Monday morning, a Peregrine (F. peregrinus) was atop St. Michael’s eating what looked like pigeon. (This butcher’s block, the highest perch for blocks, is two avenue blocks and one street block away from our apartment, approximately 500 meters/1640 feet, so these through-the-scope views leave much to be desired.)
A Merlin (F. columbarius) has been seen atop PS24 (1.75 avenue blocks by two regular blocks away) several times in the last weeks. Last week, there was one here and at the same time another perched on a much nearer tree, while in between, an American Kestrel (F. sparverius) was perched atop the antenna noted below. While visible from the apartment, this perch, on a mess of antennas, isn’t worth photographing from here. This photo was taken while walking to the subway station.

This past Monday morning, Peregrine and American Kestrel were seen the same time, then later Peregrine and Merlin at the same time, but the trinity trifecta of Peregrine, Merlin, and American Kestrel all at the same time remains elusive so far (yes, we’re pretty spoiled here in the raptor seat at the top of the moraine).
A male American Kestrel has been spotted almost daily (sometimes more than once per day) on the car service antenna (one avenue block by one street block away). This male is very russet-breasted but rather lightly marked with spots. (Photo from street-level.)

Across the street from this tall antenna, used by a car service, is a regular old TV antenna, unseen from our apartment but visible from the street. I got off the bus a block away from it last week and immediately spotted him up there, plucking prey. The feathers drifted down onto 40th St.
This is a photo from the apartment. The male Kestrel on the left, the Merlin on the right. The Kestrel was on the taller perch first, flew down when the Merlin showed up. Merlins are slightly bigger than Kestrels, with sexual dimorphism. Also, the left-hand antenna is not parallel with the main one, it’s angled away from us.

For completists, there is a fourth falcon species in this half of the continent. Gyrflacon (F. rusticolus) is generally a more northern bird. Long Island (we’re at the fish-shaped island’s western end) is within infrequent range, but I’ve never seen one in North America. (The West has the Prairie Falcon (F. mexicanus), another species I’ve never seen.

Timberdoodle Extra

American Woodcock Fallout

It must have rained timberdoodles Friday night, because Saturday morning I came across 25 of them in Green-Wood. This shattered my record. Another three were probably repeats, flushed from here to there.

A cold front fall of American Woodcock. (Besides fall of woodcock, plump, cord, and rush are recored as collective nouns for them; I hereby nominate “fluster” because they make a noisy fuse when flushed.) I got a hint this might be the case because on Friday, people were reporting a lot of them smashed up in the city. These are low migratory fliers, and the city’s buildings and glass winnows an awful toll.

At one point, I saw some motion out of the corner of my eye. Bins up: a Hermit Thrush next to a tree. Behind the thrush in my binocular view was a Woodcock!
Scanning under this one tree, I saw four more. Under a nearby bush, one more. Half-a-dozen nestled together in close proximity. And not a one flushed!

More tomorrow? Hellya!

Beech Nuts

The root of the word book is the same as that of the word beech.

The late poet C. D. Wright’s posthumously published Casting Deep Shade is an “amble inscribed to beeches and co.”

Appropriately, this book itself is a lovely thing. The unusual trifold cover makes it highly inappropriate for subway reading, but there are plenty of other places to read. (This reminds me that I see many less e-readers on the trains now than I did when they were first being touted. Another e-gimmick gone to dust and toxicity.) The text block within is thus bare naked, showing all the parts of the binder’s craft. The pages here become heartwood, a creamy heartwood. Only after reading the book for a while did I notice that the boards were covered on the inside with wood grain-textured paper.

Pictured: a weeping variety of Fagus sylvantica, the European beech, highly favored as an ornamental on these shores. Next to this weeper is a stand-up tall one, and the nuts and husks it has piled on the path. The foot of another below. All in Green-Wood, local kingdom of the the threatened beech.


Bookmark and Share

Join 590 other followers


Nature Blog Network