May

Abstract

May birds are out in their forest-filling droves now: late warblers— Blackburnian, Kentucky, black-throated blue, Parula, black-and-white, myrtle, cerulean—plus vireos, black-capped chickadees, tufted titmice, towhees, flickers, phoebes, blue jays, robins, flycatchers, kingbirds, mockingbirds, mourning doves, and wrens, among many others. Fiddlehead-tops on lavish fern-fronds are unfolding. The tightly curled leaves on every tree branch above the ferns are unrolling. Wild columbines stand straight upright in the woods amid the full flowering of their ornate orchid-style blossoms, red and purple, blue and creamy white. When I turn over each flower’s floret, I find insects sucking on every one: little aphids and bigger gnats, countless tiny winged things, all clinging to stamens and pistils, slurping nectar, nibbling pollen, soaking up the sticky sex-stuff of late spring.

Man alone contains within himself as many species as exist on earth.

—Boehme