We had been wondering for a long time where they went, those birds that enjoy our Massachusetts habitats in summer, then vanish for winter. So we went south, to places like Bombay Hook Natonal Wildlife Refuge in Delaware.

Historically – and this is no joke – there was a belief that birds like tree swallows burrowed into the mud for the winter. We’ve moved beyond that notion, of course, and know where they go. But it would be nice to see them in winter, we thought. We saw some of our old favorite species from the Cape Henlopen Hawk Watch (and some crossbills, too).

We found some ruddy turnstones under the Indian River Inlet Bridge…

…and Superstorm Sandy damage at Ocean City, Maryland.

We found the famous ponies of Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge…

…where we also saw snow geese flying over the moon…

…and a Sika deer.

That night, we saw the world turned upside-down at Elliot Island refuge in Maryland…

…as well as a spectacular sunset.

The next morning we walked through the foggy woods at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge…

…met two very loud sun conures…

…and ended our trip with a Delmarva fox squirrel. We found the birds (lots of them, anyways), enjoyed good weather and good friendship, and broke away from the holiday grind, if briefly. Nature as an interlude. You gotta love it.

It all started with an idea. Perhaps, with all the wind and storm activity, we might find a Cave Swallow off the Scituate coast.

No such luck at the first few stops. But we did find a tired Horned Lark that blew onto the beach and stayed, just ten feet from us, ’til it had the strength to move on.

With winds whipping and seas crashing, we could see why s/he was so beat.

Then came the great moment – a flock of White-winged Crossbills, the first we’ve ver seen on Friday Morning Birders in 26 years of trying. Spectacular…

So how do you end the day? Well, without Cave Swallows, you find the Purple Sandpipers. Sixty-one species this morning, with migration practically at its end, no warblers, and only three shorebirds. Yup, there’s birding to be done this winter, and we intend to do it, even if it means exchanging a good idea, for a great surprise.

It all began on Friday after the long car ride from Marshfield. Get to Jordan Pond, check the equipment and start shooting. Popovers would come later.

The Bubbles demanded attention.

So, too, did the leaves, the birds, the mushrooms, the streams…we were just getting started.

Sunset was atop Cadillac Mountain – 30 degrees with 30 mile-per-hour winds. Sunrise the next day was out by Otter Cliff.

We lingered for a while.

We met Harry Owen and his antique yellow Chevy at the Stone Barn. Harry posed for us, then asked us if we liked to photograph green trucks, too.

We did.

We made Rufus a star. Then we moved on.

We moved on to Bass Harbor Lighthouse, but knowing the hordes (of photographers) were coming for sunset, we moved on to other subjects.

We found the Tremont sailors monument, and paid our respects.

Some people worked really hard for their shots. (This one may have been asleep).

In the end, it was all worth it. Sunday? Washed out by heavy rains. So we didn’t get three perfect days at Acadia. Who’s counting?

I know, bad English, right? But it was with childlike wonder that I took our super-volunteer, Marilyn, into the woods of our sanctuary for a visit with the red-backed salamanders – 17 of them, in today’s coverboard survey run.

Our first sighting was not a “sal,” but instead a mushroom that looked to have been fixed with the fossil-like imprint of a fern, but in reality the fern had just died back on it. Still beautiful.

It was just the first of many, many odd sightings for the day. More than once we found sowbugs that had just shed their carapaces.

We found the smallest red-backed salamander we’d ever measured, just 30 cm long. Most are 30-42 cm from snout to vent, and the same from vent to tail. This one fit on Marilyn’s fingertip.

For the second time ever, we found a southern red-backed vole. It did the most amazing tail thumping display before bolting into the woods.

In the spookiest moment of the day, we grabbed two side-by-side salamanders – one red-backed, one lead-backed – and one jettisoned its tail, a defense technique. The tail wagged for four minutes on its own. I took video.

To end the day, we looked up. I remembered that the witch hazel should be in bloom, the latest blooming flowering tree in New England, and indeed it was. In all, quite the fall day! And me and Marilyn? We’ll be at it again in two weeks.

We’re being invaded, from the south. If you look closely at this picture, you’ll find the culprit, a female Zabulon Skipper butterfly photographed by our property manager, David Ludlow, at the Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary in late August.

It’s quite a drab little creature, kind of the song sparrow of the butterfly world, but that white line in the wing is pretty telling – telling, that is, of the fact that it’s not a Hobomock Skipper, which it closely resembles.

The male of the species, as is often the case in nature, is more dressed up, even if it’s just to a slight degree.

What’s remarkable about Zabulon Skippers for us is that they’re a relatively new phenomenon for Massachusetts. There may have been some around by the 1950s, but the first documented sightings were at the Fannie Stebbins Wildlife Refuge in Longmeadow in 1988. Since then, they’ve been recorded in the state every year, mostly around the lower Connecticut River Valley.

But this year, we’ve had an explosion, as they’re being seen all over the state, including, as we can see, at Daniel Webster. Depending on how you look at it, they might be a bad sign, of warmer than normal winters, and continued climate change (i.e., global warming).

The same forces may be driving the increase in appearances of the Fiery Skipper, which David also photographed at Daniel Webster in late August. This species, a migrant, typically passes through, with most Massachusetts sightings occurring, strangely enough, in Rockport. This year, though, all bets are off, and Rockport is just one of many places where they can be found. As the climate warms, we may become even more familiar with them here in the Bay State.

So, keep your eyes open on the trails – you never know what you’ll find!

We’ve had plenty of those bunny-in-the-sun kind of mornings recently.

But something’s not right. You get out in nature with the sunrise and before you know it, you’ve mistaken a yellow-crowned night-heron juvenile for a black-crowned.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t identify your favorite slime mold…

…you try to get your wood ducks in a row, but the painted turtles keep getting in the way…

…and you just can’t sort out your peeps.

So, you go for a walk with friends. Maybe on the Spit in Scituate…

…maybe to the top of Lookout Hill on faraway Cuttyhunk.

Then it hits you, what’s been bothering you all this time - summer’s over! You want to sink into the mud and let the world go right on by.

But then you remember – this is New England. We have autumn like nowhere else in the world.

The fun is just beginning.

As the sun sets, you realize you are, indeed ready. Bring on nature’s glory!

Each summer, we set out to band the Osprey chicks of the South Shore.

We start in Quincy…

…hit Weymouth and Hingham…

…Marshfield…

…Duxbury Bay…

…and Plymouth. Each year has its own stories.

This year included a day-old chick at Bare Cove Park in Hingham…

…two dead chicks on Duxbury Bay, with a mom and youngster fighting for survival with no dad to be found…

…and mammalian claw marks on a pole supporting a platform hosting nothing but broken eggs.

That said, we banded 28 chicks this summer, more than we ever have before, and that was the biggest surprise of all.

We’re hoping that this is the trend. While dead chicks and unhatched eggs are worrisome, each healthy chick we find tells us something new. Each time we learn something new, we find new and better ways to coexist with these remarkable birds.

As I see it, the next time it snows, we have no right to complain.

We just have to think back to this spring, to the Baltimore Checkerspots…

…to the fledgling Northern Cardinals…

…and to the Piping Plovers we saw on the beaches, and remember the mildness of last winter in New England, and how easy we had it.

Think of that wonderful moment we saw the snapping turtle depositing its eggs in the dirt.

Remember that glorious morning when we found the dead star-nosed mole right in the middle of the trail?

And who could forget that magical tingling sensation when we found the highly-invasive Valencia slugs devouring a hapless earthworm?

Nature has been there for us to see all spring long, in all of its glory, both beautiful and disugsting, from the savannah sparrows…

…to the wood frogs.

The next time it snows, I’m keeping my mouth shut.

Wow, just a few short days later, we have much more to report. In the great stock market of the forest, ferns are up.

So, too, are the starflowers.

At Wompatuck State Park, where the eastern hemlocks are under assault by the woolly adelgid, Japanese, or Halloween Ladybugs are on the case.

At Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary, what you are seeing is real.

Canada geese now have Canada goslings.

A muskrat enjoyed a morning bath.

And today, on the 22nd birthday of the observation blinds overlooking the wet panne, a lesser yellowlegs found plenty to eat. Does anything beat spring?

It’s spring! It’s spring! It’s SPRING! That means that it’s the season for turtle stacking…

…using as many turtles as you like.

‘Tis the season when garter snakes emerge.

And when turtles, even teeny tiny turtles, cross the road.

‘Tis the season when tree swallows return.

And when brown-headed cowbirds start scoping out potential nesting sites – in other birds’ nests.

‘Tis the season, too, when vesper sparrows pass through. (Can you find it?)…

…and Wilson’s snipes share just a few of their hours with us before heading even farther north (Can you find them?).

And, ’tis the season when just about anything can happen, like a cattle egret landing right here in Marshfield. Happy spring! Get out there and enjoy it.