<p>
	<a href="{filedir_11}news_and_resources/blog/musings_9_18_10_1_by_neil_gilbert#.VDVUBEslnLt" target="_blank"><img alt="" src="{filedir_5}Neil Fall(1).jpg" style="width: 600px; height: 300px;" /></a></p>
<p>
	I enter the woods nearly daily with my journal. In this and forthcoming series of entries, I will share what I&rsquo;m seeing and hearing out there. Since birds are my first love, most of the entries will having strong avian components&mdash;but, I promise, it won&rsquo;t just be birds!&nbsp;</p>
<p>
	<strong><em>18 September 2014, 6:30PM</em></strong></p>
<p>
	Out here at Beaver Pond, doing some sitting. The air is cool and moist; the sun is down, twilight comes. I sit, I listen. I hear:</p>
<ul>
	<li>
		Red Squirrels &ndash; one on the east side of the pond chirping, and another machine-guns on the west side</li>
	<li>
		Blue Jay &ndash; one screaming close by, talking to another in the distance</li>
	<li>
		Black-capped Chickadees overhead in the pines</li>
	<li>
		Blue Jay wing flaps over the canopy</li>
	<li>
		Oil pumps/wells &ndash; a muffled roar in the distance</li>
	<li>
		Insect &ndash; a short, dry, &ldquo;slit&rdquo;, given singly and infrequently</li>
	<li>
		Bark scraping &ndash; a climbing Red Squirrel?</li>
	<li>
		Tapping &ndash; a woodpecker?</li>
	<li>
		Hairy Woodpecker &ndash; going <em>peak</em> on the far side of the pond</li>
	<li>
		Red Squirrel gnawing on a pine cone overhead</li>
	<li>
		Pileated Woodpecker &ndash; an outburst of laughter to the west</li>
	<li>
		Eastern Towhee &ndash; asks &ldquo;wheat?&rdquo; from the young aspens on the north side of the pond</li>
	<li>
		Spring Peeper &ndash; distance-shrouded</li>
	<li>
		White-breasted Nuthatch yanking</li>
	<li>
		Mechanical squealing &ndash; brakes?</li>
	<li>
		American Robin flight notes overhead</li>
	<li>
		Distant truck motor</li>
	<li>
		My pen and paper shuffling and scratching</li>
	<li>
		Sudden splash (frog?) eliciting a scold note from a hidden Common Yellowthroat in the rushes</li>
	<li>
		Ovenbird chipping</li>
</ul>
<p>
	There is a lot to hear&mdash;but to hear, one must first make the decision to listen.</p>
<p>
	<strong><em>26 September 2014, 4:25PM</em></strong></p>
<p>
	<img alt="" src="{filedir_5}Second, Third Weeks 045.JPG" style="width: 250px; height: 187px; float: right;" />Wetlands are often compared to sponges or filters&mdash;basically, through their very existence, they purify the earth&rsquo;s water. I do not know what pollutants seep into Beaver Pond, but I do know that it acts as my personal filter. I come here when my heart is heavy, when I face significant decisions, or when I simply need quiet time to think and pray. It absorbs my anxieties and leaves me refreshed.</p>
<p>
	It is a glorious autumn day. The &ldquo;heat wave&rdquo; has resurrected one or two mosquitoes that harry me as I sit and write. The leaves are changing, some flamboyantly, as with the scarlet maples across the pond, and some subtly, as with the White Pines and rushes and bracken.</p>
<p>
	In defiance to their name, Spring Peepers squeak at each other throughout the woods. A black squirrel eyes me suspiciously from a low branch, waving its tail. Blue Jays and flickers wing across the pond at the rate of one or two birds a minute. The forest is full of them.</p>
<p>
	<strong><em>28 September 2014, 8PM</em></strong></p>
<p>
	<img alt="" src="{filedir_5}Second, Third Weeks 047.JPG" style="width: 250px; height: 187px; float: left;" />Here I am on Louie&rsquo;s Pond, somewhere on the divide between day and night. The evening throbs with crickets but is otherwise quiet&mdash;except for the piercing &ldquo;Pee-weet-weet-weet&rdquo; of a Solitary Sandpiper that is circling above the pond, probably taking off for a night of southbound flight.</p>
<p>
	I came here hoping to glimpse the beaver that has been roving between the two ponds on campus. I figured that twilight was the optimal time to see him. Within five minutes, I looked up from my writing to see a ripple traversing the pond fifteen feet from my perch. I could barely see his head in the darkness. I tapped my foot on the dock to get his attention; he immediately responded with a violent splash. I haven&rsquo;t seen him since. This beaver has been active at the aptly named Beaver Pond; while hiking out there earlier today, a friend and I found thoroughfares where the beaver has dragged branches through the emergent grass.</p>
<p>
	<strong><em>1 October 2014, 5PM</em></strong></p>
<p>
	October is here, and with it, exciting birding.</p>
<p>
	<img alt="" src="{filedir_5}Second, Third Weeks 046.JPG" style="width: 187px; height: 250px; float: right;" />Ever since I found a White-winged Scoter on Big Twin Lake last week, I have made the daily habit of scoping the lake for migratory waterfowl. This morning, while squinting through my scope at a lone Lesser Scaup, I heard a Lapland Longspur rattle overhead. Then, hearing frantic trilling behind me, I turned just in time to see a Merlin nab a Cedar Waxwing out of the beachside pines.</p>
<p>
	Yes, it is certainly fall. Many of the trees are shedding their raiment. Don&rsquo;t be fooled&mdash;it&rsquo;s not just the maples and aspens. The great White Pine by the driveway has dropped enough needles that the driveway appears to be paved with tarnished gold.</p>
<p>
	And it is getting chilly. This morning, I built a fire with waist-high flames to keep me warm while awaiting the kids at my teaching station and pulled my canvas cloak close to keep warm.</p>
