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Wildlife

After three rounds of harsh weather conditions – frost, hail, torrential rain storms –  the early spring beds in our area are, to put it bluntly, toast. My lively pink hyacinths, which had greeted guests with their happy color and welcoming, spicy fragrance, now look like this (image) With their unexpected demise, I guess it’s time to start planning and preparing summer beds!

We were in Phoenix a week ago, spending time at the world-renowned Desert Botanical Garden. The desert plants were in bloom, giving an entirely different feeling to what is usually an austere sight. While we strolled the paths, hummingbirds soared the skies above us, occasionally swooping down to stop and have a sip of nectar from a wildflower and then zooming away. Even though I logically knew I was much further south In Phoenix than at home and that the timing of seasons is slightly different, seeing so many hummingbirds in late March surprised me.

Last week, my oldest daughter asked me for a Christmas list because, in her words, “You are so hard to buy for.”  I have to admit that I can see her point; there really isn’t much in the way of “stuff” that I either need or want. There is one thing however, that always tops my list  –  high quality bird seed to fill the feeders that are scattered throughout my yard.  

We have a nearby neighbor whom we affectionately call “Blower Man.”  We don’t actually know him – he lives directly across the quarry from us – but we definitely know when he’s outside doing yard work. The deafening sound of his enormous leaf blower drones on hour after hour, often chasing us inside until he finishes. As annoying as it is to be sent into retreat mode on a picture-perfect fall day, I find it heartbreaking to think about the environmental impacts of stripping a property bare of every fallen leaf. Autumn leaves are, I believe, Mother Nature's gift to the earth. 

While cliff golden rods and rough blazing stars are vying for attention in my front garden, my third, and unexpectedly new fall favorite, quietly fills a shady corner of my backyard with tall stems covered in soft rose-purple flowers. At a first, quick glance, the plants could be snapdragons revived after the heat of summer or digitalis giving one last burst of color, but a closer look reveals an entirely different plant, rose turtlehead, or more precisely Chelone oblique.   It’s a plant whose blossoms bring to mind dozens of small turtles raising their heads to see if anyone is looking for them and whose name recalls a long-ago story. 

The transition between summer and fall is, for me, a bittersweet time of year. The summer flowers are fading, leaving only seed heads and dried stalks. The tomatoes and cucumbers are struggling, but, on the bright side, my hummingbird feeders are busier than ever, as my tiny visitors prepare to begin their 500 plus mile journey to Central America, where they will spend the winter months.

In a normal year, if there even is such a thing anymore, I would wait until the end of April to begin preparing for the return of my hummingbirds. After checking this year’s interactive migration map (https://www.hummingbirdcentral.com/hummingbird-migration-spring-2024-map.htm)  however, it appears that I don’t have time to wait. Ruby throated hummingbirds, our regional species, have already been spotted across the entire state of Missouri, including a spotting right here on the Katy Trail. 

After two very successful seasons of trapping and relocating groundhogs, I thought I had finally conquered my four-footed enemy.  Since there had been no sign of him after July, I felt confident that he was gone for good... or at least one season. So, I went ahead and put in my dream spring garden.  I planted cabbage and broccoli, spinach and lettuce, bok choy and snow peas, carrots, radishes, onions, potatoes. I even added some marigold seeds to ward off uninvited insects.  Bordered with pots of pansies, it was beautiful!  I was happy.