Common Birds 73 - Nuthatch

Friday, April 19

After many days, I see a nuthatch again, a lone, black-capped male, making his way through the trees. It is perfect to stand under the flowering branches and see the skunk cabbage and fiddlehead ferns push their way out of the soft earth. Still, I miss the ubiquity of nuthatch calls in winter. Mates travel together, calling back and forth all the while. When spring comes, the females nest and the males forage. Without their mate, this foraging is done in near silence. 

I am by the pond, waiting and listening for the arriving warblers when I hear the scuffling of nuthatch claws on bark. I turn and wait for him to fly, spotting him being so much harder when he does not speak. I miss the herons, too. I used to see them daily, witness their struggles for territory, and now I only glimpse them as I’m merging onto I-93.

Spring is a beautiful change, and change is a rose, which even at its most breathtaking can still catch you with thorns.

I wonder if the nuthatch misses the winter, too. It’s cold and dark, yes, but he and his wife can fly and forage together. His obligations diminish, his time is more his own. Tomorrow is Saturday, but there is no option to sleep in. My son will be awake and he will need me. It’s a beautiful change, but I miss sleeping in and slow Saturday mornings. I love how thrilled he is to crawl, to laugh while chasing the cats, and shout about all the new places he can explore. And I miss the days, just last week, when he was joyful and content to play in a single place. Unlike winter for the nuthatch, that precious time of six to eight months old will not return as the days grow short.

Still…

Still, I am eager for spring. I am eager for the days to lengthen and the sun to grow strong. I am eager for warbler and Canada goslings, for young nuthatches to find their way through the trees. I am eager for my son’s first words, his first steps, his ten thousandth word. I am eager to savor the bittersweetness of all this change and all the changes to come, to see my fledgling son fly, and grow old with my wife whom I love.

And in the meantime, I am here, by the pond, watching my favorite bird.