5:00 a.m. 63 degrees, wind SE 0 mph. Sky: misty and overcast; tendrils and plumes of fog rise in the valleys, thickly over the Ompompanoosuc River; thinly elsewhere; morning appears on the brink of ruin. Permanent streams: keep to themselves; upper, moving but mute; lower, an undertone, barely audible. Intermittent streams: soft, soupy, stone-rimmed depressions. In the wetlands: haze suspended just below the far canopy; air everywhere else bright but dense; a green frog calls. In the pond: traces of mist on the surface. Shoals of fidgety tadpoles, hind legs sprouting like weeds, gulp air and absorb tails; aquatic to terrestrial, life's profound magic trick; bubbles linger on the surface in recognition of majestic transformations.
Air fills with hostile flies.
DOR: red squirrel (I think I know him); garter snake.
AOR: black and yellow millipede; slugs challenge the sun, hidden behind a bank of clouds. For the slugs, a personal Death Valley; cross before you scorch.
Two note whistlers: chickadee high; titmouse low; phoebe guttural like dragging furniture across the floor. A woodpecker broadcasts from a metal roof. Turning back the clock, a turkey gobbles. Catbird meows softly in the thickets. Chestnut-side warbler, pausing on a naked branch to scan the neighborhood, has nothing to say; poses broadside for a moment as if for Audubon, and then resumes shopping for caterpillars in the alders.
Two yellow-billed cuckoos call this morning, one across the wetlands where several caterpillar tents decorate the crown of white ash, the other nearby the house.
Department of much-embroidered facts: Confucian texts, circa 2600 BP, declared that the hapless host of a Eurasian cuckoo, an obligate brood parasite like a New World cowbird, paid homage to an exemplary ruler. The ruler, of course, is more a shirker than a tyrant, the original lousy parent—a cheater. Brood parasites play by rules that both irritate and fascinate us. Who among us leaves our babies on someone else's doorstep? A facultative brood parasite—like yellow-billed and black-billed cuckoos—may have taken a massive step down the path to becoming an obligate brood parasite. Understanding the origins of a trait submerged by time and the benefits of cuckoo breeding strategies rests with an avian tribunal and a lot of thoughtful biologists.
In the meantime, I'll listen and search for a sleek, retiring bird with an eponymous call. If I happen to find a parasitized nest, I won't need King Solomon to determine legal parentage.