Old Mother Maple

I love the big, old trees on our property.

Arriving from upstate New York, they were the first impression of our new southern home. Where, from a canopy above, birdsong greeted the weary travelers and broad branches sheltered an old brick house safely beneath.
A large hickory stands guard in the back, reminding us with intermittent showers of nuts upon the tin roof, that he’s still standing strong.
In the front, a large hollow Sycamore and 2 Sugar Maples line the drive.
We are well surrounded by their interlacing, graceful branches.
Safely at home, on the top of our little hill.

Maple Sugaring Time
Sugar Maple, Acer saccharum

In early spring, we tap the Sugar Maples—the first step in a month-long process that yields the sweet amber syrup I remember from my grandfather’s farm in Vermont. Only several quarts, from just 3 trees scattered across the yard. But, a sweetness like no other, that tastes of strength and purity—and home.

The largest of the three, Mother Maple, reaches out toward our porch.
Her twisted trunk bears the scars of large fallen limbs. And the many slender branches grown in their place are crooked, giving her a lop-sided profile.
She is the character of an old, proud tree.
Gnarled, and with bark covered by lichens.
Greeting visitors to the hill, in her place by the front walk.

Mother Maple

Every spring, her arms welcome nesting birds.
Last year, a family of Summer Tanagers and this spring, Ruby-throated Hummingbirds.
On narrow leafy branches, with a gentle slope--such a welcome place to make a home.

female Summer Tanager at nest

Ruby-throated Hummingbird nest with tip of beak showing above

pair of baby hummingbirds in nest

This fall, her leaves have grown brown and withered. They litter the ground beneath her, barely changing to their golden tones.
I wonder if she will be with us much longer.
Or if there will be a gap in this landscape.

The hot, dry summer is hard on a more northern girl.

Mother Maple and our home

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Nesting

My ear has been trained on the tanagers. Often, the first sound of the morning, I hear them chipping to eachother just beyond the open door of the front porch--a very uninteresting "pitichip", in the midst of the lovely dawn chorus. Both male and female stay relatively close to their nest in our maple, but fairly well buried in the leaves. Treated to a fleeting glimpse from time to time, I seldom catch them in the open long enough for a good look.
(I call this picture, "Tanager Tail on nest")
By now, I've become so eager to see them, I bolt from the kitchen table with every slight, but distinctive "pitichip", running upstairs and peering out.
I can hear them from every room in the house.
I can hear them from across the yard.
They're playing hide and seek with me.

And, every once in a while, they let ME win!

We have another first , too. One of the new bird houses we put up this spring has attracted a pair of tree swallows.
He sits on top,
she sits inside.

Good morning!

Easy come, easy go.
Our excitement at finding orioles and dreaming of her hanging nest, swinging from a branch just outside our front porch has passed. Maybe she had second thoughts about being close. Or, maybe Wednesday's horribly wet, windy night discouraged her. The orioles are gone. The few strands she'd started to lay down are all that remain--of the pair, or any intentions to nest--there.
But, the activity just off the front porch remains. Thursday morning as I sat peacefully reveling at the pretty day, pretty tree, pretty little hummingbird, ...something swooped in and scooped up a snack! Immediately assuming "my" hummingbird was someone's dinner, I whipped my head around to find a smaller-than-I-had-imagined bird perched on a locust branch, crunchy legs sticking out of his mouth. A Summer Tanager, snacking on a wasp he'd caught as it flew beneath the eaves. His bright red coloring not obvious, backlit against the morning sun--but nevertheless, very pleased with himself for snagging dinner. And I, very pleased it was NOT my hummingbird.
Again this morning, the tanager's here--and apparently, staying.
I located his mate, dressed in her olive drab, mouth full of twigs--and watched to see where she would go.
Back to the maple tree. Straining to see through the leaves, I discovered her nest.......
...and she seems to agree, that beige scraps look very nice!