Notes from the ‘Field’ in August 2026, part 1 by Sara Wright

I thought that I would tell a few personal animal stories because they are for the most part uplifting and demonstrate how easy it is to develop relationships with just about any non – human being you meet.

 Heron – A Visitation

Imagine my astonishment when I walked by the window and saw a heron striding through tall grasses. A sword -like slivery beak and sinewy neck. One glassy eye. Grey blue body. Long splayed feet firmly planted on the ground with each determined step. My dog Coalie barked once and poof – heron was gone. Oh, I was so disappointed.

Baffled, I immediately walked outside trying to imagine what a heron could be doing walking by the house. Illumination struck when I noted a slight depression that led into wild summer greenery. Thick lush ferns hid the ‘pond’, a sunken barrel ringed with stone. Heron must have been on his way to fish there, a place where frogs often hunted from a partially waterlogged, moss-covered log. I parted the greenery as one green frog dove into murky waters. No doubt there were others close by.

  Historically herons could be found hunting at the brook. l sometimes glimpsed one flying out of the gorge – a prehistoric being flapping his great, syncopated wings. With worsening drought conditions, the waters were low. Yet, frogs and toads were still abundant the last time I had been down there a few days before – enough to keep mink and weasels around all year. Tell -tale footprints were often visible in the mud.

My point here is that it was not that unusual to see herons, but I never imagined I would see one striding by a couple of feet from my window with such purpose!

How had he known about the hidden pond – a flyover? This was an area that disappeared into thick pendulous arcing greenery just after the marsh marigolds bloomed in April. I very tentatively concluded that the brook fishing might be not as good as I assumed or that heron was feeling lazy and decided to seek out a tasty frog for an easy noon -day meal. That he registered my presence at the window was a given because he stared in at me with one piercing eye and yet it hadn’t deterred him. This tale is one example of how animals know more about us than we know about them. I have no doubt that he’d been there before.

Turkeys 1

  One year ago tod I buried my dog Lucy.  I was staring into the green at dawn sorrowfully noting that the crystal dewdrops and the leaves of the trees were still upturned as if to give thanks to the Cloud People who had brought a brief downpour from a lightning struck sky the night before. When the grasses started to sway and bend, I saw them, a bevy of young turkeys of different ages accompanied by their three mothers who had banded together to keep a watchful eye on all the young (a perfect example of matriarchal behavior). All were searching for insects and wild grains in uncut wild grasses. When the mothers approached Lucy’s grave and stood over her body, now nourishing the roots of pine, spruce, and hemlock I experienced a moment of awe – no food there… Oh thank you the child cried out to the turkeys. Compassionate Witnessing makes sorrow bearable as many of us know. This visit was the first time the new mothers and children had come down to the house. Usually, I fed them on the circle above the cabin. Most interesting to me upon reflection was the reality that those of us who have relationships with animals and are rooted in the land discover that Nature manifests as one of her beings when personal distress feels overwhelming.  Always a Mystery.

Turkeys 2

Two days later six male turkeys ran towards me excitedly as I climbed the hill. Their animated twittering and clucking greetings delighted me. All six were still together. I hadn’t seen them since the spring turkey hunt began last April…. Needless to say,  all followed me back to the cabin for treats!

I’m particularly glad that both groups are here because I have out of state neighbors who sprayed their property with lethal pesticides to kill  annoying insects. I am keenly aware that 96 percent of all birds feed their young protein rich bugs during the summer months and we are losing birds at an unpresented rate (there should be a law against this practice).  I’m hoping that none of these turkeys are pecking dead ground.

More notes from the field next week