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Toads, turtles, and a turkey
May. 3rd, 2015 07:55 pmIn the midst of death, we are in life. So it was at Mount Auburn Cemetery this afternoon, on the first really good day of the season, or at least the first one of which I've been able to take advantage.
The American toads (Bufo americanus) were singing. The toad's song is a medium high-pitched musical trill lasting up to 30 seconds. Since toads are poisonous to most potential predators, they show little fear of humans, and I was able to get close enough to them to watch them sing and fight off rivals. The pond was, I was told, ice-covered until a few days ago, which probably explains why the toads are late this year. I would normally expect them to be done by now. They come out of the woods and gardens and congrgate in ponds to mate an lay eggs, from which tadpoles will hatch that will grow into a new generation of toads. The males sing to call potential mates, and they are loud enough to carry quite a distance.
Also calling for a mate was a big tom turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) strutting through the cemetery; His gobbling could be heard all over the place.
Two species of turtles were in evidence: Chrysemys picta picta, the eastern painted turtle, which is almost ubiquitous in these parts; and Trachemys scripta elegans, the read-eared slider, a turtle of the Mississippi valley that has managed to establish itself in Massachusetts despite our brutal winters. I saw two individuals in the pond near the Mary Baker Eddy grave site; the smaller toad pond had only painted turtles.
The cemetery was bustling with birds, including some warblers I couldn't identify along with grackles, house sparrows, and the ubiquitous robin. I was told there was an owl nest in one of the trees overlooking the toad pond, but I couldn't see it.
Spring in New England, when it finally takes hold, is a glorious thing to see. Trees are bursting out in blossom all over the area, with bumblebees and the occasional honey bee busily buzzing from tree to tree. The cherry trees and magnolias were particularly spectacular.
The cemetery is a fascinating place; most of the people buried there seem to be Yankees, some of them with names, like Mehitebel and Cordelia, not often used today. I found Daniel Pinkham, a composer whose music we've sung at church.
Tomorrow it is back to work, alas. I placed an order online just now for 100 connectors for a scary project I've been postponing.
The American toads (Bufo americanus) were singing. The toad's song is a medium high-pitched musical trill lasting up to 30 seconds. Since toads are poisonous to most potential predators, they show little fear of humans, and I was able to get close enough to them to watch them sing and fight off rivals. The pond was, I was told, ice-covered until a few days ago, which probably explains why the toads are late this year. I would normally expect them to be done by now. They come out of the woods and gardens and congrgate in ponds to mate an lay eggs, from which tadpoles will hatch that will grow into a new generation of toads. The males sing to call potential mates, and they are loud enough to carry quite a distance.
Also calling for a mate was a big tom turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) strutting through the cemetery; His gobbling could be heard all over the place.
Two species of turtles were in evidence: Chrysemys picta picta, the eastern painted turtle, which is almost ubiquitous in these parts; and Trachemys scripta elegans, the read-eared slider, a turtle of the Mississippi valley that has managed to establish itself in Massachusetts despite our brutal winters. I saw two individuals in the pond near the Mary Baker Eddy grave site; the smaller toad pond had only painted turtles.
The cemetery was bustling with birds, including some warblers I couldn't identify along with grackles, house sparrows, and the ubiquitous robin. I was told there was an owl nest in one of the trees overlooking the toad pond, but I couldn't see it.
Spring in New England, when it finally takes hold, is a glorious thing to see. Trees are bursting out in blossom all over the area, with bumblebees and the occasional honey bee busily buzzing from tree to tree. The cherry trees and magnolias were particularly spectacular.
The cemetery is a fascinating place; most of the people buried there seem to be Yankees, some of them with names, like Mehitebel and Cordelia, not often used today. I found Daniel Pinkham, a composer whose music we've sung at church.
Tomorrow it is back to work, alas. I placed an order online just now for 100 connectors for a scary project I've been postponing.
