March 22, 2001 - Of snowstorms and spring signsThe Suffolk Times • March 22, 2001
Of snowstorms and
with patches of cement and blacktop l
and no longer erodes.
When I walk down to get the mail, I
can't help but think back to those early
years when farming was a way of life
and the world moved at a slower and
less complicated pace. Today I found
the snow - covered driveway pock-
marked by deer tracks. Evidently they,
too, still use it to get around. Now
there's a change from years ago: 40, 50,
100 years ago deer were almost
unheard of here on the North Fork.
Sure, there were a few scattered
through the more remote woods but by
and large deer were a scarce item.
Even in my youth the sighting of deer
tracks was an exciting piece of conver-
sation and to see one, almost an impos-
sibility. So, why the deer now? There
are many theories, all questionable.
The most obvious is the change in
acreage of farmland. Much of our
once - fertile land has been turned into
development and wineries and what is
left is just awaiting the reaper's bell to
toll. With the loss of open farmland
and the increase in fallow land, along
with the landscaping around new
homes, nurseries and other attrac-
tions, deer have multiplied beyond
our wildest dreams. Deer seem to
have become more tolerant of man
and sightings today of deer are a com-
mon occurrence. Somehow we've
made our once open space more
attractive to them.
By now many of the male deer have
lost their polished antlers, the reason
being they no longer need them for
uuenng wim a twat for the Lair may.
Meanwhile the does are getting ready
to have their young. Many will pro-
duce twins and a whole new genera-
tion of nibblers will be upon us.
Each day our days grow longer.
Those driving home from work now
drive in daylight. Signs of spring are
everywhere. Even with our last cover
ing of snow, there are crocuses and
daffodils ready to burst into bloom.
The forsythia we brought in heralds
the coming of spring with its forced
yellow flowers. Telephone calls tell of
flocks of red - winged blackbirds that
have already moved in. They'll be the
males coming to claim
their part of a wet area 40, 5C
for future nest sites. The
will call from atop a bush years i
or tree, telling all others, were a
"I claim this part of the unheal
land for my own, there- the IVO
fore, keep out." And
that's just about all this
good - looking blackbird
does, for like most males, e eaves
most of the nest building to the
female. And of course we have
already had calls that robins have
moved into the area. More signs of
Right now we have 20 or more
ldfinches at our feeders, yet our
nuinoer or common birds is at an
unusual low; one or two chickadees, a
pair of nuthatches and a few titmice
and that's just about it. Perhaps some-
one in the neighborhood is doing a
better job of feeding than we. It's
interesting to watch the goldfinches
mob the feeders. Those that can't get
to the best perch on the thistle feeder
drop down to the ground to feed. All
are busy eating until something spooks
them, then in an explosion of little
obbing bodies, they're off in a wild.
igzag flight to the safety of the bushes
some distance away. ,
In one such explosion of flight one
goldfinch dashed into our
100 picture window. We
go deer heard a thud and 'imme-
diately went out to find
most the victim of the crash.
I of On Barbara carefully picked
th Fork. goldfinch. the limp but still live
goldfinch. Now at close
range we could see its
bold white wing bars, its
typical finch bill and its dusting of
greenish - yellow coloring that later will
turn to the bright yellow so character-
istic of this goldfinch family.
After a few quick photographs, we
set the still unconscious ball of feath-
ers in a safe warm spot outside and
left it to recuperate on its own. At
first it tucked its bill under its feathers
as if it were in a deep sleep. Later it
opened its eyes, all the time remaining
motionless. We watched it for an
hour; then it stirred and was gone.
The only trace left were droppings
where the bird had been sitting — a
good sign things were working out
well for our little eoldfinch_