They Can Fly

We found ourselves at our High Meadow this morning.  Recently Amy saw a Killdeer here.  It was the first time that she had ever seen this beautiful bird.  We have made two return trips but found it neither time.  Every visit here is special in its own way.  Invasive Japanese Honeysuckle has been removed from this level field.  On my seventy-third birthday I was provided with a machine that had a seat and a bucket for a weekend.  Acres of level ground saw this highly invasive plant removed.  To keep it gone I now mow huge fields.  It is time to stop the mowing this year since the Milkweed is in flower.   We recently came upon two Monarch butterflies joined together to transfer the seed packet that will yield eggs.  These leaves will be home to the next generation of caterpillars then butterflies.  So far the early mowings have kept the Honeysuckle absent from this ground.

We have seen this turkey and her four young many times.  Yesterday they were taking dust baths under October Sky Asters planted right next to the corner of the house.  They have been spending a great deal of time rather close to the house.  Our concern for their safety remains active since the poults seemed too small to fly.  Turkeys spent the nights in trees where they are safe from predators.  For a period following hatching, both the young and their mother sleep on the ground.  We need worry no more.  Mom and her young were in the taller weeds in the center of the field when we first saw them.  Their reaction to our presence was to head toward the trees.  Our movement sent the group back into the taller weeds.  Soon the young appeared in the shorter weeds where they took to the air.  They found safety in the Pine trees.  Mother also flew but remained in the field possibly intending to keep our focus on her.

At my recent doctor's visit, I was told that most of the men born in 1944 are now dead.  I am still here two years after that dividing line.  This land and its peaceful connection to nature has been ours for the past twenty-eight years.  Age now limits my ability to do all of the physical work necessary to preserve this land but I absolutely cannot see myself living in a senior care facility.  How could anyone leave this wonderful life so close to nature?