galoshes blog

By Gavin Murphy

Fall

The spartina has bloomed 
small white flowers that 
will provide food for 
the birds and also seed 
the marsh itself. Fall colors
will come to the marsh as 
the cordgrass turns a 
mellow golden yellow.

Splashes of brighter yellow
are provided by blooming goldenrod.
Another plant believed to have medicinal 
properties, its flower tipped stalks 
are scattered here and there at 
the edge of the marsh.

Migrating monarch butterflies 
congregate in the crimson bottlebrush 
trees. The birds leave the butterflies 
be because their diet as caterpillars 
made them toxic to prey on now.

I refill the bird bath and retreat. 
In short order a crow appears.
He has no reason to fear me. 
He already knows who I am. 
The bald guy who fills the bird 
bath. A good human. But crows 
are too smart not to fear humans. 

And Saint Francis I am not.

When the crow spots me still nearby, 
he gives me the hard eye before 
spreading his powerful black wings 
and taking off. 

The other birds who frequent the 
bird bath know who I am too. 
They too are wary. 

They often come in pairs, 
or even a small flock. 
Usually one or more stand 
sentry. Hiding in the trees.
Watching for a hawk, 
or a cat, or a snake.
The birds live in constant 
danger, from above, from 
below, from anywhere 
at any time.

But they still have the 
heart to sing.

My wife is up early, 
sitting outside on the deck, 
listening as a pecking 
woodpecker greets the sunrise.

A pair of egrets swoop 
low over the deck.

Some doves emerge
from the undergrowth. 

My wife is thinking 
about her mother, 
who is near death 
in hospice.

Blue jays bustle 
in tree branches. 
There’s much chatter 
among the jays. 

It seems to my wife 
there is an unusual 
amount of bird activity 
this morning.

A pair of cardinals 
appear at the birdbath.

My wife recalls hearing a 
song that says birds, 
especially cardinals, 
are sent by the spirits 
of deceased loved ones 
to reassure the living 
they are doing fine 
in the afterlife.

The phone rings. 
Mom has passed away.

Fisherman come to the marsh 
and cast seine nets to catch 
small fish for bait.

While most of the birds don’t 
get too close to humans
some of the egrets and herons 
have learned that fishermen 
and crabbers can be good 
for a handout, tossing them 
a spare shrimp or some 
cut up fish used for bait.

Some don’t wait to be fed.
They see their opportunity 
and steal whatever they can
from the fisherman's bucket.

The fish in the marsh -
typically mullet - but 
sometimes bigger species, 
don't often get a free lunch, 
and what looks like a free lunch 
may contain a hook. 

Occasionally, a fish leaps 
from the water to make a 
modest meal of a tiny bug 
that came too close to the 
surface. 

The concentric circles left 
by airborne fish splashing down, 
attract the osprey, which has 
super sharp even ultraviolet vision, 
specifically adapted for hunting fish.

The fish that swallowed the bug 
finds itself airborne again, 
this time gripped in the 
osprey’s fish hook like talons.

The king snake, lustrous black 
and banded by yellow,
crawls slowly in the yard. 
Aware that it is exposed 
it pauses to assess the 
situation, realizes there’s  
a human in the vicinity.
Then, moving faster,
it slithers out of sight. 

Somehow, it too survives 
the encroachment of people.



I think the varmint is an 
armadillo. (Dasypus novemcinctus) 
Somehow related to sloths and 
anteaters… But, since I’ve 
never seen the son of a …
I’m not sure.

Finches? I use the term 
loosely, because an 
ornithologist I am not. 
When a tiny bird lands 
on the edge of the birdbath, 
I scramble for the binoculars.
Try to quickly focus. 
Looks like a finch.
I find the bird guide. 
Check the index for finches.
Realize I’m in the Scientific 
Index… Finally get to the 
page. “Green plumage… 
black crown … 
yellow wings and tail… 
I lift the binocs - 
but the bird is gone.  

In a little while tiny 
sparrows appear. 
Lilliputian sparrows 
seem to like the cedar 
trees. The birds are so 
small they almost look 
like - finches.

I keep saying I’m gonna 
get a good camera, one with 
a zoom lens. So I can 
take a photo. Use that 
photo to identify the bird…
There’s probably an app 
for that too.

But until I get that lens 
and that app, whenever 
a tiny bird finds the birdbath,
whatever diminutive avian 
species it actually might be...
It’s a finch.
 
A raccoon swims across the 
marsh in broad daylight. 
Usually they come out at night.
It must be something important.

I’ve never really wanted to harm 
an animal but the varmint…

Green anoles - Anolis carolinensis - 
are a native species of lizard, 
almost florescent green in color, 
sometimes turning brown 
when they are stressed. 
Though they can change colors
they are not true chameleons. 

They are everywhere in our vicinity.
Hunting for bugs on the plants. 
Perching on rocks. Climbing up 
the trees. Clinging to the walls 
of the house. 

They frequent our deck, 
which appears to be prized 
territory, given that it gets a lot 
of sunlight and has a great view 
of the marsh. Like all reptiles, 
anoles enjoy sunbathing.

The males spend a lot of time trying 
to claim the deck as their territory, 
seeking to intimidate each other 
with aggressive displays of head 
bobbing and puffing red dewlaps, 
a bladder like air pouch under 
their necks. They are pretty fearless 
little guys, even giving the dewlap 
warning to humans who cross 
their paths.



I remember as a kid being at 
the circus in the city where one 
of the wandering vendors was 
busy selling anoles as pets.
The hapless creatures were 
leashed to a board with string 
around their necks and small 
safety pins. 

They cost a buck apiece and 
looked dejected, with sad eyes, 
their bright green color muted, 
mottled. I felt sorry for them 
and begged my parents to 
let me rescue one or two 
by buying them. 

They said no.
 
Not as numerous as the anoles,
but still abundant are the skinks,
their smooth lizard skin almost 
metallic dark blue. Sometimes 
with racing stripes. They slither 
quickly from hiding place to 
hiding place, empty plant pots
being a favorite.

(Did I say they eat bugs?)



The geckos emerge in darkness,
strange, translucent, almost albino, 
attracted to light. No eyelids. 

They crawl up the stucco walls with feet 
that are like suction cups. 

(They’re feet are not really like 
suction cups but actually are 
covered in tiny hairs with 
funny names that use 
something called Van der Waal forces 
that involve electrons and molecules, 
all too complicated to explain 
here. The geckos also seem 
to be able to go through walls 
as they are another critter that 
manages to get inside the house.)

Geckos also like to hide 
in the compost pile, 
so I have to be careful 
not to chop them up 
when I use a shovel 
while digging in there.

(Not native. Believed to have 
come into the country 
on cargo ships, maybe from 
the Mediterranean region.)

At sunset the swallows dance in the sky… 
They’re really 
just eating airborne insects. 
But it’s an impressive 
aerial display. It’s beautiful, 
seemingly choreographed.

(And did I mention, they eat the bugs?}

Terns streak through the sky, 
high up, but I can still hear
their non-stop vocals - shrill, 
sratchy and rough,  or "burry" 
- a birder's term.

Holstein once disappeared 
for almost a month. We 
thought he was surely dead 
only for him to reappear, 
no worse for the experience.

Now the cat is old. 

He still wants to hunt and kill, 
but there are vicious wild 
creatures out there who are 
stronger than he is -
raccoons four times his size, 
for example. So we keep 
him inside. He isn’t too happy
about it but appreciates 
a warm lap to curl up in.

A hawk has been in the vicinity 
and today it got a kingfisher. 
I know it’s tooth and claw out there
but I was sad because the kingfisher 
had for several days been 
entertaining me with its antics.

Sometimes I think I should’ve 
kept the tree that shot straight 
up into the sky - it is still too 
soon to know. 

Zen makes you wait.

Next:

Winter

Posted 2025