Common Birds XXII - Nuthatch III

Friday, May 5

It’s quite at the pond. It’s my third time out today, and I’ve seen neither mallard, wood duck, nor heron. Even the mother Canada goose is gone from her nest. I stand by the water with the turtles, fish, sensitive ferns, mayflowers (the single leaf plant), birch, maple, sky, clouds, and sun. None of us has much to say, so we fall into the silence of familiarity.

Then, I hear scuffling in shaggy bark to my left. A nuthatch! A lone nuthatch works his way down the trunk, also in silence. I watch him place a seed in a crevice and, with a few gentle hammers, crack it open. Then he climbs, hopping rather than stepping, eating imperceptible insects on the way.

It’s a hard time of year to find a nuthatch. They’re still here, of course, they never leave, but at other times nuthatches travel in pairs, keeping up a steady conversation: Ack ack! Ack ack! They’re easy to hear, and so much easier to find. Now, it’s nesting time, so the females are at home and the males forage alone. With no one to talk to, they stay silent. Only their claws against the bark are audible. When I was first discovering that nuthatches travel in pairs, I was devastated to find one alone, apparently taking a vow of silence to mourn his mate. But now I know that a single nuthatch is a good sign. All is well in the nest. The eggs are laid, and mother nuthatch is keeping them warm.

I watch and listen. It is quiet, but not silent. Chickadees sing, goldfinches and catbirds, too. Further afield, I hear red-winged blackbirds. Occasionally, a fish splashes through the surface to nab a bug. Beneath it all, I-93 roars with the rushing weight of rubber and metal, flowing perpendicular to the quiet Merrimack. It’s a sound I can mostly ignore, as, like the nuthatch, I’m out on my own, but not alone.