Elizabeth and I came across this abandoned oriole nest at Croton Point Park this weekend while on the hunt for bald eagles (we saw six). It was dangling over the road by the park office, just barely hanging on to its branch—or so it seemed at first, because what a feat of engineering! How hardy it must be to have survived this winter! To have weathered the unrelenting ice and snow that have been battering the Northeast for the past two months. Birds, man. Birds.
Now that it is officially March, I find myself itching for migrants. I managed to go birding somewhat regularly this winter with weekend trips to Central Park and lunchtime walks to the harbor, but then February’s deep freeze set in. It’s hard to look for waterfowl on your lunch hour when the harbor is iced over. So I welcome with open arms this week’s tropical temperatures (and by that I mean it’s in the 40s and 50s).
Spring cannot come soon enough. Away, ice! Away, snow! Give me mud and petrichor.