White Squirrel
I have recorded black morphs of the gray squirrel for years, but this white form was a total surprise. Could not get close enough to determine whether this individual is an albino, or a white morph.
I clicked a pic of seven mallards…then a sound flushed another half dozen from the shore for a total of thirteen ducks enjoying the January thaw.
Yesterday (Monday) was a day of driving rain and high winds, so no walk. Skipped Sunday as well, caught up in house projects.
Sunday was 40F and cloudy; Monday the sun was out, melt water was flowing and and the ground a slushy mess. Tuesday it rained. Wednesday was clear, but with a breeze, felt colder than 40F. Today was even warmer and just gorgeous out there. The slush is done, though there are cool spots yet harboring black ice.
The high count for gray squirrels was 15 (with black morphs sighted on two days).
A black morph visits
I saw, well, mostly heard, the usual birds: chickadee, titmouse, nuthatch, crow, jay, junco, woodpecker (probably downy) and cardinal pipping. I think, a robin has been calling, but have seen none in the park (a pair of them visited my yard last week).
The star of most winter walks is the hawk. The red tail is huge and astonishingly common in this little wooded area. Today, one swooped low through the trees, away from me toward the the playing field. I watched it brush the edging of tall trees. I hoped it would pick a limb and wait for me and my camera to get it together. That pretty much never happens.
Most of the snow is gone, so the trash mars the view again. I took documentary photographs of the shopping carts, which I like to do seasonally and will post later on.
With sunshine and warm weather continuing, the urge to get outside was irresistible. After a once-through of Van Horn, one of my daughters swung by and we piled into the car for a trip the the city’s green jewel, Forest Park. (There is snarkiness to that last bit, which will be explained by and by.)
I noticed flying things among the tall clumps of brown grasses. I was excited to check out the waterfowl, which our local bird columnist has written about last week. It was great to see the mallards, black ducks and Canada geese that deserted Van Horn when the freeze set in. A little disappointed not to see the rarer species the writer mentioned. I spotted but a single pair of ducks with (possibly) brown heads, hanging with seagulls apart from the noisy gang.
However, on our walk out, a pair of Canada geese sailed past with a big, fluffy necked white goose with a light brown head, orange bill and pink-looking feet. I could find nothing in the field guides that matches it and I didn’t have my camera…of course.
The sky was overcast, but with the temperature over 40F and body craving exercise (apres flu), I made it down the block to Van Horn Park this afternoon. The progress around the asphalt track was slow, as melting snow and ice demanded attention be paid to footing.
When sky, ground, trees and light are gray, everything looks…gray. So, I think I saw a couple of brown creepers played in a tree and making their sweet little sounds. A small, slim hawk lighted a few seconds on a tree branch before it flew across the dingle. I hoped in vain for a glimpse of it on the other side. It might have been a peregrine falcon…or something else.
Out the north gate and onto Armory Street, there is a spot with a couple of benches facing the pond. I stepped up to the fence to drink in the expanse of snow covered, unsafe ice. I identified trackways: dog, probably dog, stupid human, squirrel, dog… A big branch had been hauled from the little peninsula. A big rock had been hurled from shore. Looking down from street level, I noted a dog, or two had trampled the snow at the water’s edge and left a yellow calling card.
Several feet away I spied a thing white as the surface on which it lay, something dead. I cursed myself for not bringing field glasses. If this were the Great White North, I’d have thought, snowshoe hare, ermine maybe, but not in the city of Springfield, Massachusetts. Then, in a nearby bush, I spotted a big paper feed sack and I suddenly knew what that carcass was. With eyes and brain working together, I resolved not fur, but feathers, the white feathers of a domestic chicken. Closer to shore was the animal’s head. I hate people.
Animal Cruelty
Last winter, someone tossed the same type of sack into the snow near the park’s south gate. It bugged me each time I passed, but I waited until a thaw to drag the rubbish up to the trash can. The weight of it was a bit of a shock, so I had to look. There were three, dead chickens inside. (It took the parks department several warm days to empty the barrel.)
Possum and the cat house
Recovery from the flu has put a damper on my daily walks in the park, but, as you can see, I’m receiving visitors at home.
I was surprised to see this opossum in daylight, but it was clearly cold and hungry. It cleaned the catfood bowl and took a nap inside the cat house, which has a heating pad. Everyone kept a respectful distance and no one got ruffled.
You can learn a few things about these unique marsupials from the National Opossum Society. (No kidding, it’s a real organization.)