As I walk my path, staying my course it occurs to  me that  my compass or innate Naturalist tendencies resonate(sometimes loudly!) and nudge(very pushy!) me ever forward towards my true north-my thoughts and dreams of earth, wind and sky within our  Natural World.

Ever simple ideas, moments, even imaginings of my own native peoples –somewhere, more often than not accompany me out in the field anywhere.

The original tribal Naturalists that once hunted and fished along the coastal sands on and around  Fishers Island- there are moments when I feel passionate that my steps slip raw and  well worn into theirs…each fleeting moment, shadow, breath of breeze fitting  effortlessly into someone else’s ….somewhere in time.

Simply, I always look for proof of this feeling.

While walking the small shore of Mile Creek in Old Lyme, CT. I gazed across the Sound and through the sea smoke of a winter morn-squinting to see my “homeland”, an Island vacant now of hunters and gatherers…my eyes fall upon the  immediate sand beneath me.

I see an arrowhead, Perhaps, from the long ago Nehantick (Niantic) tribe, east of the Connecticut River, blazing trails amidst “long necked waters”….naturally.

I don’t know for certain how much wood a Woodpecker pecks, but I am learning to differentiate the specific species.
I haven’t yet documented a Hairy Woodpecker on Fishers Island.

Assuming BOTH birds indeed have feathers … the Downy version of the bird is most familiar to me.

At first glance The Downy pecks with a tinier bill (in proportion to its head) than its Hairy relative.

Take binoculars and check out for black or gray spots on outer tail feathers-this is the Downy too.

Listen closely for a stronger, rattling voice from the Hairy Woodpecker-perhaps in the mature woods mid Island.

Autumn mourning fly!

Dovetail with solace and soul amidst the brand new morning.

Listen to the dew and crisp.

Talons grip tightly only to release

Winter’s reign.

Rejoice!

Ask any Chipmunk-“Time and tide waits for no man”.*

I find myself mimicking the essential rhythm of seasonal change especially as the last of lengthy shadows follow me and precede winter.

Hibernation – the slowing down of activities and conserving energies has my bicycle resting on its kickstand by 3:00 pm and my gloveless palms wrapped around a hot “cuppa” minutes later. Timers for indoor lighting are reluctantly readjusted and the 7pm ferry horn wears on my nerves….slightly.

Begin to take note: Cormorants and Canada Geese vying for V formation now appear to head south over Wilderness Point. Voracious and vocal Cardinals, Jays, and Chickadees fluttering between piney branch behind Naval fencing. The peculiar scent of trailing Ladybugs sneaks and rests into sunny corners of a windowpane in the Community Center.

Meanwhile, a mainland Chipmunk reaps a harvest of berries, seed and nut; then pauses-a  slow, swirling maple leaf beckons the both of us to seek refuge and burrow. 

*Chaucer