Today I thought to look for signs of the deepening fall season, remnants of summer, and the impending winter. The Illinois River is always my first thought for such activities, but I am lazy on this cool, early October Saturday morning, not up for a drive of even the few miles it would take to get to the river. With breakfast under my belt, I opt for a simple walk around our rural homestead – perhaps to see some migrating birds such as sharp-shinned hawks and boreal forest warblers, the kinds of species that generate nostalgic thoughts of the north woods of upper Michigan, scenes of so many favorite times.
On the edge of our woods, I can see for a mile across the light tans of still unharvested corn crops and the yellowish-greens of soybean fields. Harvests are already underway elsewhere around Mason County, and the bounties of summer will soon be trucked away and stored in vast grain bins along the river, then transported downstream on fleets of towboat-barges to points unknown, perhaps even exotic destinations on strange foreign shores.
Sand Hill Savanna with bur oaks, hazelnut, and prairie grasses.
At the portion of our property that we have named "Sand Hill Savanna," hazelnut leaves show signs of orange; heath aster still blooms; only a few purple asters still are with flowers; the showy goldenrod is nearly finished; and the prairie grasses are in their final stages. Bees are concentrated on the few goldenrods still with bright yellow flowers, lethargically gathering as much pollen as they are able, before it is all gone; they move slowly and unenthusiastically, their actions appropriately in tune with the gray skies and with me as I drag myself back to the house for another cup of coffee.
Later as I tilt my head backward to sip the dark, warm liquid, I hear a slight, thin sound of a bird calling from our withered mulberry tree, and catch a fleeting glimpse of a ruby-crowned kinglet – just passing through, perhaps from Isle Royale in Lake Superior on its way to the Texas coast. In a few seconds, the bird is gone, and I soon notice a close-knit group of six northern flickers poking around in the mowed grass near the vegetable garden, which still shows a bit of red from ripe tomatoes yet to be picked.
Showy goldenrod with bees, Sand Hill Savanna, 2009.
It may be surprising that I am looking forward to the coming winter. But I find the diversity of seasons here in central Illinois interesting, though I am sure that such thoughts are a luxury not shared by the birds that I watch.