Sayornis phoebe

I walked outside this morning and found that I was surrounded by phoebes. This has been happening for a few days now. Everywhere I go there's a phoebe. Now, it's one thing to see one, and listen to it sing determinedly, and to watch it wag its tail as you go about your business (Phoebes always seem so insistent to me, "PHOEBE!!!"). It is entirely different to see six within the span of half an hour. Or two at once. Again and again! For days! Perhaps for some this may be a common occurrence, but for me it’s absolutely notable. Phoebe! Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, I'm thrilled. Phoebe!

Actually, this IS unusual, because phoebes are known loners. Even mated pairs don’t spend much time together. This must be a migration thing (phoebes winter in the southeastern U.S.). Maybe I happen to be in a phoebe hotspot? PHOEBE! It’s a mystery.

This morning I walked through the rain down to the river, and played a game with the mist. See, when you’re IN the mist, you can't see it. When you head a few hundred yards away, the place from which you’ve just come is completely obscured. Phoebe!

Lycosidae

Thank heavens for fall in the mountains! After a bewildering month of family illnesses and car shopping, I have landed here in the Blue Ridge of Virginia. Just in time--I was nearly spent. It is true, I have shamelessly been neglecting you, dearest blog, but you were certainly not forgotten.

I've spent the last twenty-four hours fixing up my funny little cabin, stuffing insulation into cracks, sweeping up mouse poop, washing dusty dishes, and relocating wolf spiders. According to Eric Day of Virginia's Cooperative Extension Service, wolf spiders, of the family Lycosidae, "look much worse than they are." I have to agree with Mr. Day. True, wolf spiders are brown, speckled, and hairy, and often the size of a child's hand. Sometime they scamper, sometimes they jump. But my friends, trust me, they are harmless. (Okay, okay, they will nibble you if provoked, but everyone gets chomped by a spider once in a while--it won't kill you, promise.)

I've befriended three so far, mostly while doing disruptive things like shaking out the shower curtain, and moving the bed. My new pals were very cooperative, each scuttling helpfully into a pink plastic cup and then zooming off across the front porch. I have experienced pangs of guilt today, as it is definitely colder on the porch than in the cabin. I'm consoling myself with the knowledge that they'll easily find their way back in through the numerous cracks in the floor.

Now, to settle the fears of my many sceptics, please know that I have no intention of suffering the following calamities over the next month:

1) becoming the lunch or dinner of a bear, beaver, or other terrible creature;
2) freezing to death in the "shack";
3) driving into a ditch.

Okay, the most likely of the three is driving into a ditch. The rain has once again been relentless over the past few weeks, and the road to my hideaway is rutted and bumpy. The river flooded so high that there is debris way up in the trees along the banks. Which reminds me of another calamity that will not befall me: washing downstream during a flood. I and my neighbors are a few hundred yards from the river, all uphill.