Spring Wonders

In the small gap between the winter's foot of snow and the advent of unusual April heat in my part of the country, we had spring.

In early March the weather warmed enough to melt the last of the snow, including what was piled at the top of the driveway. The crocus bloomed, the snowdrops struggled to bloom and the daffodils started growing through the winter debris. In the space of two days I could finally clear the front garden beds and cut down the dried ornamental grasses so the daffodils growing in this area could be seen. Six months' worth of collected brush was put at the curb.

Dogwood buds, before they opened and the leaves appeared.
(Margo D. Beller)

I had time to again marvel at how my perennials are able to survive an unusually cold and snowy winter to grow again in the spring without any assistance from me. Then the temperature again became very cold.

That did not stop the plants from growing or the birds from singing in the early morning. The robins, Carolina wrens and jays were particularly active. Woodpeckers proclaimed their territories by drumming against trees. Despite the cold I went outside with Merlin to do a census of what was in the vicinity. (Two days ago I saw the first report of house wren in the area. My husband helped me put up the nest box. A wren came to investigate a day later and I heard one sing this morning.)

Slowly the temperature warmed. The maple tree flowered. The viburnum and pear tree started leafing, as did the lilac. At the very end of the Lenten period there were flowers on the Lenten Rose (hellebore). The dead, brown leaves started falling off the euonymous shrubs, revealing the fresh green and yellow foliage the deer will try to get at through the fencing.

Spruce continues to stand tall and, once again, has put out cones. He hosted some unusual winter visitors this year - a pair of red-breasted nuthatches. I stand in awe of him, seeing how much he has grown since he was planted in late 2007.

However, the other tree planted at that time, the dogwood, continues to concern me. Ever since having more than half of the dogwood cut down I wait to see if the remaining live half will bloom and leaf out. This year I could see flower buds but would they open? Thanks to the heat that came upon us during the last week and a couple of brief but heavy rain showers, the buds have started opening and the leaves are growing.

The apple tree starting to show leaves. It now is covered in blossoms.
(Margo D. Beller)

And then there's the old apple tree. Last year the tree leafed, bloomed and then one big branch went dead. As with the dogwood, I had the dead part cut down. Would the tree survive?

So far it looks like it has. The tree started growing leaves and, as of today, there are blossoms. Each flower is a potential apple. But I am still watching to see how the tree progresses as the season continues. The pear tree, meanwhile, has many flowers in the upper branches I can't get at to cut back. I hope the squirrels get to the fruit because, as I found out years ago, the branches of the pear can't withstand the weight of a bear.

After all the snow the plants appear to be doing quite well despite the current heat. The azalea buds are about to open. The grape hyacinth is thriving in a way I have not seen in years. The lilies and peony are growing so fast I've had to put in supports sooner than expected. 

The New England aster I planted last year is leafing but I am not sure if the lavender has survived, or if I killed the anemone. I've put the anemone in a different pot with fresh soil in what I hope is a better place in the yard. I will be watching for signs of life. If it is alive it won't flower until autumn.

By which time the spring wonder of my garden will have long been replaced by the tedium of weeding and thoughts of putting the garden to bed before another winter.  

I Don't Count (Don't Ask Me)

Lately, I have found I can no longer do on my computer the things I was doing just fine before. This is not so much because of any infirmity on my part but because these websites have tech people and I am convinced these tech people must change things in order to keep their jobs.

So now instead of signing into one of my emails with a password I have to click more buttons in order to do so. The way I used to print was changed after the last alleged upgrade. When I downloaded a document as a pdf recently I got a pdf.aspx I couldn't open without a "third-party program." I had to look up how to change it back to a pdf so I could print it.

None of this has saved me any time or made my use of the computer any easier. I didn't ask for these changes, they were foisted upon me.

Not using eBird. (RE Berg-Andersson)

In the name of security, several sites I've signed into for years recently asked me to create a new password. I get it, people can hack into your computer if they get your password, although some disagree how often these passwords have to be changed. I disagree, too, considering the several data breaches that affected me within the last year that did not involve these websites forcing the new password.

So I am more than a little disappointed the good people behind the Great Backyard Bird Count, held every year during the Presidents' Day weekend, have made filing my bird lists more high-tech and less user-friendly. The organizations involved include the Cornell Ornithology Lab (creator of the Merlin app I use), Birds Canada and the national Audubon Society.

In the past I could go to a dedicated site, sign in and then attempt to go through the steps to post the number of birds I saw, where, under what conditions, what day and what time. 

That has changed. 

There is still a dedicated site, www.birdcount.org. But now to report you must use either the Merlin app, the eBird Mobile app or send the information to the eBird website. For this I would have to create an account.

I have no interest in creating an eBird account because I don't care to use eBird to list my sightings. Sure, I look at the eBird lists to see what others have found in particular areas, including my home county. But when you file to eBird it is expected you will keep a COUNT of how many birds you've seen every time you go out birding.

Still not using eBird. (RE Berg-Andersson)

When I am out in the field, with binoculars around my neck, a stick in one hand and the Merlin recording app in the other, it is hard enough just finding a bird by eye or ear without taking the extra step and counting.

Say I see a couple of titmice as I walk in one direction and I then see a couple of titmice on the way back - have I seen the same two or four?

Say I am by a frozen pond where the one bit of open water contains what looks like hundreds of Canada geese (plus others - as I saw several winters ago). These geese aren't sitting still waiting to be counted. Most people reporting huge numbers are estimating, and while they are counting and estimating they are missing other birds flying or swimming around.

I support what Cornell and the others are doing. The Great Backyard Bird Count helps scientists understand bird populations and their health by collecting data on bird sightings from participants around the world. This information is very important for monitoring changes in bird species and their habitats, especially as the environmental changes - the climate change the Trump administration considers a hoax. (More on that in a separate blog post.)

And I can understand why you have to post with Merlin and eBird. Cornell runs Merlin and eBird. It built the infrastructure. Why create a separate site when you have already spent a lot of time and money on a technology platform that can entice more birders into creating more accounts to post their findings?

A cardinal, one of the many nice birds I've seen in the last few days 
without reporting to eBird. (Margo D. Beller)

Why? Because some of us would rather concentrate on birding than keeping count and filing electronic paperwork. 

Obviously, I'm no "citizen scientist." I'm just a backyard birder.

So, for what it is worth, here is what I saw or heard in the area of my backyard between Feb. 12 and today, Feb. 14, 2026, with help from Merlin:

Fish crow, American crows, mourning doves, a ton of juncos, downy woodpeckers, hairy woodpecker, a red-bellied woodpecker, jay, too many house finches, two female and one male purple finch, male red-breasted nuthatch, titmice, starlings, grackle, robins, mockingbird, two white-breasted nuthatches, a pair of cardinals. 

Not bad, for winter.

Another Autumn, Another Fall

 Spring is the inspiration, fall the expiration. -- John Burroughs

The cast on my wrist came off October 1. The next day, after occupational therapy (OT), my husband (MH) drove me to the local Agway. I had hoped to buy a black-eyed susan plant. I had tried growing one some years ago but it didn't take.

I did not find it, but I did find two plants I've always wanted to grow plus one, a lavender, I planted in my ornamental grass garden years ago but it didn't survive the invasive roots of the ash tree, which has since been cut down. This time I decided to grow the lavender in a pot I put by the front door. It is a plant deer don't browse for the same reason people buy lavender products - the scent.

Potted lavender, 2025 (Margo D. Beller)

The other two plants I bought are autumn growers - Japanese anemone and a New England aster, which I've seen growing tall in fields, its purple flowers usually hosting bees.

So a few days later I spread my tarp on my enclosed porch and worked. It was a joy to be working with plants, My wrist, thanks to OT, was much stronger but I was still careful when it came to moving a bag of soil, filling a pail with some of my stored compost and then putting in the plants. Then I managed to get the aster into the ground behind the deer netting, put the lavender in its pot by the door and put the anemone into its pot behind the netting.

I shook out the tarp over the backyard and then took to folding it.

That's when I stepped backwards at the edge of the patio, lost my balance and fell on my butt.

My head survived and my back was jarred but they had fallen on soil, not the patio blocks - a blessing considering falls are a leading cause of death for seniors, which I reluctantly acknowledge being. I retrieved my glasses. This time my wrists weren't involved, my hands being in front of me holding the tarp.

Again? I told myself. I had been so careful with the soil, the pots, the planting. All I was doing was folding a tarp. But falls can happen at any time, in the house or outside. I've had both. They are not fun.

Carefully, I finished folding the tarp and went in to tell MH of my latest fall. 

Potted anemone. The wiring around this and the lavender is to 
keep out digging chipmunks. (Margo D. Beller)

The immediate consequence was a pain at the top of my left leg that was so bad I could not stand, much less walk. Pain makes me a snarling beast, and that scared MH. But after a few days of heat and rest that pain diminished and then went away. So did the lower back strain although there is still one area - either the sacrum or the hip - that I have not helped by hiking around during a period when high numbers of birds have been migrating south.

These pains used to be gone in a day. But that was when I was much younger. 

The plants are thriving, especially the lavender. My wrist improves, allowing me to finally drive solo and spare MH being my chauffeur. I've also had to move the anemone pot under the overhang so it wasn't drowned by our recent nor'easter, tho' our area wasn't hit nearly as hard as the Jersey Shore. My wrist reminds me when I've gone too far.

When OT ends next month I am sure my wrist will never be 100%. I will have to live with that, along with the other aches and pains that have dogged me in recent years. It won't stop me from birding areas where the migrating birds are. It won't stop me from going out to listen for birds on the back patio with Merlin. Nor will it stop me from writing this blog, which I'm doing wearing a compression sleeve and a wrist brace.

It beats the alternative.

Broken-winged Birder

Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die life is a broken-winged bird.

--Langston Huges

Years ago I wrote a post about birding with disabilities after talking to a woman at Great Swamp who birded from her car because of her walking problems.

I think of her because now I can't drive.

Three weeks ago I fell in a field full of flowers when a bumble bee, perhaps thinking my red hat a flower, charged me. I reared back, lost my balance and went down on my butt and my left wrist. Luckily, my husband (MH) was within shouting distance. He got me to a bench, got help and was able to drive to me so I could get home to ice and painkillers.

(Margo D. Beller)

What I thought was a sprain turned out to be a fracture. I will spare you the sequence of subsequent events. Now I have a cast on and while I can do a lot - such as type this post with two hands - I can't drive.

You learn pretty quickly how fast you lose your independence and have to depend on other people for basic things. But while I have been slowly improving and doing more, there is one thing I still can't do:

I can't go birding in the early morning during prime southbound migration weather.

MH, you see, is not an early riser if he can help it. He rises to take me to appointments if they are early but if there are no appointments he wants to rest his weary muscles that have been used more than they have been in years since my injury.

So my field of operations is limited. I can walk to the outer fringes of Greystone, or sit on the back patio, both with the Merlin app on to help me. When I hear a chip Merlin tells me is an American redstart, and then I see the black and orange male flitting around in a tree, I think of how many more birds I could see beyond the backyard jays, cardinals and woodpeckers if I could drive farther afield and stay out longer.

But, I have learned, MH has worried about me taking these long trips alone. My recent fall was within shouting distance of him. I've had other falls when he wasn't around. I could get up then. I might not be so lucky next time.

So I do what I can and wait for a day he'll feel up to driving me someplace and we'll walk and, with any luck, still find treasures, even after the cast comes off.

A Second Chance

Some people fall in love. Some fall from grace.

I just fall.

My glasses - frame and lens - survived the fall by flying off...
(Margo D. Beller)

I was on a cindered trail in the woods near my town's community garden yesterday morning when I left the trail to walk closer to the bordering marsh. I stepped over a small, downed tree. At least I thought I did. I conjecture my trailing foot caught the trunk and I suddenly found myself falling forward.

Glasses flew. So did my hat, stick and the phone. My binoculars were on me thanks to its harness. My notebook was in an overshirt pocket and held in place by a harness strap. It stayed in the pocket tho' the pen bent some of the pages.

First order of business - sit up. Wiggle toes and fingers. Raise arms. No broken bones though the little finger of my right hand had abrasions and hurt. No head pain, no blurred vision.

Next - find the glasses. No breakage. None on the phone or the binoculars.

So I'm OK. Now collect everything and stand up.

...but not before gashing the bridge of my nose.
(Margo D. Beller)

Once standing I walked a few steps, found my legs could work and I continued around the short path and back to the car. The bruising started to show up at home once I started icing my right hand, then my left knee, then my left wrist. I found a mosquito had taken advantage and bit my right hand, so anti-itch cream was applied. The glasses had gashed the bridge of my nose before flying off. The wound was washed and covered with a bandage.

This morning the pains are virtually gone thanks to eight hours of rest and an Advil. I can put my glasses, thankfully not bent, on my nose again.

The psychic pain will take a little longer to heal.

I was lucky the fall was on ground, which gives a bit more than cement. I was lucky no bones broke, that I could get home. I've had other falls, and I feel blessed to have yet another second chance at life. The older you get, the less that is a given. 

Things could've been a whole lot worse and I was happy to rise early this morning and sit on my patio, listening to the dawn chorus with Merlin.

(RE Berg-Andersson)

Yes, Merlin is getting a second chance, too.

Besides not knowing where my legs were when I stepped over the tree, I might've been distracted by my phone. Last week I was at the Great Swamp very early and was frustrated at hearing things I could not identify. I decided to try Merlin again, for the first time since May. I found there had been some changes to the app and it seems to run much better, tho' I have not downloaded the database that would be necessary if I was birding in an area with no cellphone connection. 

On the trail Merlin was finding an Eastern peewee, a bird whose very high, thin call I can't hear unless I am literally under the bird. I was trying to find where the bird was to hear it. Eventually, I did. But that was after the fall. I don't remember if I was looking at the phone when I fell but it was definitely in my hand, not a pocket, which might've saved it from damage.

Merlin and I will be birding the backyard, carefully, for the foreseeable future.

Depending on Myself

It is an unfortunate fact, one I hate acknowledging, that I will no longer see 20 again. Or 30. Or even 50. 

What led me to this reluctant acknowledgement is feeling the pains in my neck and legs after taking long, slow walks outside to find the birds in my area on their way to northern breeding grounds.

Today's Merlin home screen
(RE Berg-Andersson)

Yes, it is spring migration season and every day there are different birds now coming to my feeders that weren't around over the winter - purple finches, chipping sparrows, even white-throated sparrows that may have been intimidated during the winter by all the juncos. Meanwhile, the number of juncos is down as they head north to breed.

My husband (MH) is slowing down and there are many days I can't get him to come birding with me. He is a late riser and his knees are balky. When he does consent to accompany me, he tends to lag behind and depend on me to point birds out rather than using his eyes and ears to help me find them.  

So now that I have the time to do this, most mornings I go birding alone. Until recently, though, I had some help.

I wrote last year about using the free Merlin app created by the birding people at Cornell. Along with my eyes and legs, my hearing has been declining after decades of blaring music through headphones to dull out the noise from commuter trains. The app hears things I don't always hear right away. It gives me something to look for. Yes, it gets things wrong, such as identifying the calling Canada geese overhead as the smaller, darker brant geese. It makes "suggestions" after all.

This is as much technology as I care to use when I go birding. I found Merlin to be a helpful backup -- until it stopped working.

A sighting of that rare bird, MH. (Margo D. Beller)

A couple of weeks ago MH and I went birding, I heard something, I put on Merlin. It shut off. I tried again. It shut off again. MH opened the app on his phone. It crashed. I tried opening it on my phone once we got home. It crashed again.

MH and I uninstalled the app from our respective phones. I looked on some online forums and found others were having the same problem. Had Cornell made some change so it wouldn't work with my phone? I wrote Cornell and never got an answer.

Some people suggested clearing the cache on my phone. Didn't work. I loaded Merlin on my tablet, even adding packages of bird data from way outside my area. It worked on the tablet. I uninstalled Merlin from my phone again and reinstalled it. Same problem.

MH, meanwhile, decided it wasn't worth his trying because he always birds with me and I am the more active searcher. So Merlin is off his phone.

For a couple of weeks I was back to birding the way I once did - depending on my eyes and ears, with maybe some help from MH if he deigned to go out with me. I was still finding things but the searching up and down did a number on my neck, a phenomenon birders call "warbler neck" because these little birds are always moving around high in trees starting to leaf out. 

(RE Berg-Andersson)

Without Merlin I was no longer taking off my gloves so I could carefully pull my phone out of my jacket pocket so as not to lose the list of what Merlin had picked up. I was no longer walking with a phone in my hand, looking at it every few minutes. I began to think I would only use Merlin on the tablet in places where I would really need help, such as during our annual trip to Old Mine Road where the cacophony of calls makes it hard to identify the individual breeding birds. 

Periodically I would try Merlin on my phone. Sometimes it would have trouble finding my location and then crash. Sometimes it wouldn't even get that far. 

I was resigned to depending on myself - bad eyes, ears and legs - to find birds, bothered by thoughts of what I could be missing because the calls were too faint or high in pitch for me to hear. 

This story has a quasi-happy ending. Merlin still does not work consistently. In fact, it has been about as easy to get Merlin to accompany me as MH. I've gotten Merlin to work on my phone after multiple crashes by turning the app on, leaving it alone long enough to load all the things it needs to work and then hitting the record button as a bird sings overhead. But this does not always work. I now have to be patient to use this app, and patience is not one of my usual traits.

So when it comes to technology I've been reminded it is better for me to trust the computer in my brain, enjoy what birds I can find on my own and not fuss about what I can't.