going away

red-eyed vireo

We all know that the seasons of the year come and go. Snowflakes, crocuses, fireflies, scarlet maple leaves. When you start to follow the goings on in the natural world on more or less a daily basis, not only do you notice the changes taking place, but you are also aware of the seasonal appearances that should be taking place that seem to be missing for some reason.

About a week ago we had dinner with Kim and Doug who happen to be wildlife biologists for the state. We talked about a million things as usual, including the advent of spring. Kim mentioned the birds; that while she had heard them calling out in the morning, the number of calls seemed markedly diminished compared to year's past. She mentioned two or three birds, that she was used to hearing, that had yet to make their usual appearance.

I had noticed the same thing. Early morning this time of year is normally filled with a cacophony of bird calls as they annually mark out their territories for breeding. Birds have returned, and they are singing in the morning, but it is actually quiet, very quiet.

I was in Rutland in the morning about a week ago, and heard the song of a red-eyed vireo near the UU Church on West Street. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology says, "The red-eyed vireo is one of the most common residents of eastern forests." That has always been my experience, but this was the first one I'd heard this year. I still haven't heard another one. Where are they?

I just started reading The Genius of Birds by Jennifer Ackerman. She says, "Changes in the environment--especially those induced by humans--throw a monkey wrench into the lives of many birds and disrupt their keen ways of knowing. A recent report from Audubon tells us that half of the bird species in North America...are likely to grow extinct in the next half century or so for one reason: because they can't adapt to the rapid pace of human-induced change on our planet."

These beautiful birds are going away...very quickly. It was only a few years ago that I would sit out in the back on summer evenings and listen to the hauntingly beautiful call of the wood thrush; the most beautiful of all the birdsongs in my opinion. I have not heard them in the last two years. Such a loss. Such a tragedy.