Seasonal aberrations?

Today I got an unexpected surprise. [Of course, if I had expected it, it wouldn’t have been a surprise, would it?] Most of the smaller ponds in our area, and some not so small, are now covered with skim ice. Despite some cold days and very cold nights, I honestly didn’t see it coming. We’ll probably see it going this weekend when the temperatures are forecast to reach the mid-70’s, but as I drove past some smaller ponds, and the Carlos Avery Sunrise river pools, I had a “Wait! What?” moment or two. Usually, I look for such developments in November, although we did have local ice cover by this time of month a couple of years ago, but it’s not a regular occurrence.

mid-October: rare ice

Photo by J. Harrington

What I’ve noticed in years past is that smaller, shallower ponds ice in first, forcing waterfowl that stick around onto bigger lakes. Often, the smaller ponds freeze before the great migration of waterfowl has begun, which concentrates migrating birds onto the waters remaining open. The reverse happens in the spring, with many northern migrants resting on the Carlos Avery pools before dispersing to smaller waters or continuing north. This year’s breeding duck population is below the long term average. I’m beginning to feel a little haunted by the ghosts of the passenger pigeon.

But for now, we still have waterfowl and juncos. The latter just showed up on our deck, another sign of approaching winter. I have no idea if the juncos will head back north this weekend or will simply “tough out” the forthcoming heat wave. It’s hard to say these days which is more of a rollercoaster, the local weather or the stock market. To paraphrase Cormac McCarthy, this is No Country Century for Old Men.

XLV [Before the ice is in the pools]

Emily Dickinson - 1830-1886

Before the ice is in the pools,
      Before the skaters go,
Or any cheek at nightfall
      Is tarnished by the snow,

Before the fields have finished,
      Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
      Will arrive to me!

What we touch the hems of
      On a summer's day;
What is only walking
      Just a bridge away;

That which sings so, speaks so,
      When there's no one here,—
Will the frock I wept in
      Answer me to wear?

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