He stretched it out. The announcement was very loud, perhaps even a bit enthusiastic. The Green Heron had returned to his winter home at the salt marsh while I was gone, and appeared surprised to see me. As I walked closer, he repeated the announcement.
An Anhinga, who was resting down by the water almost right below him, joined the choir. She’s baaack!
All eyes were on me. Well, almost. Even the Mayor interrupted his hunt, walked closer, nailed his eyes on me and gave me a nod.
The young Mourning Dove checked on me too from her high vantage point. Approvingly, I thought.
Miss Rosa was still sleeping in her ‘bedroom’, heavily curtailed by leafy greens. She opened her eyes. I’m afraid my approach had woken her up.
The Reddish Egret, who had been fishing in the shallows nearby, performed his signature dance. Shake, Baby, Shake. What a royal reception!
Even two of the ducklings, who had left the salt marsh merely four months ago marching behind their Mama, came to say hi. They had grown a lot. And they had started in diving school. I saw a few more siblings further away.
But not all residents joined the welcome party. The young Great Blue Heron didn’t really care to see me back. We have some history, as some of you will remember. I noticed he might have been in a fight as he had a flap of skin hanging under his chin. I wished him speedy recovery.
And the Yellow-crowned Night Heron didn’t pay any attention to me either. But I didn’t take it personally. He might have been hunting all night and was now looking for some peace and quiet.
His cousin, the Black-crowned Night Heron, was present too and peeked out from the tall grass. He was simply shy. And soon he flew up into a tree to sleep for the day.
I walked to the beach-end of the marsh and found two Great Egrets hunting together. Beautiful.
And a little Snowy Egret who was fishing alone. She soon decided to move onto the bay side and took off while I was watching her.
I was delighted to see so many feathered friends on my first walk! But where were the Ospreys? The nest was empty – and in great need of repair. Unfortunately the ground is too soft right now to allow a big vehicle to come close to the nest. That will have to wait for a bit longer.
I walked around the marsh. Then sat on ‘my’ bench to drink some water. It was hot already. I waited. A squirrel in the tree above came down to check me out.
I noticed the Anhinga was still there, now drying her wings in the light breeze. And letting her latest catch, the drama of which I had obviously missed, go down smoothly.
Suddenly I heard friendly osprey speak in the sky. Mama Sandy was flying above the marsh with Papa Stanley. Yes! Both of them were around and seemed to be doing fine.
I discovered there was a third Osprey flying with them too. One with slightly orange-colored eyes and white tips on the flying feathers. A juvenile.
I looked at all the pictures I snapped of this young Osprey, and while I can’t be absolutely sure, I think it might have been Lady Cawcaw! She was discussing something with her papa. Maybe getting tips on good fishing spots. That’s when Papa Stanley’s gift arrived. A beautiful flight feather came dangling down and landed on the grass just a few feet from where I was standing. I picked it up. And now have this 14 inches long ‘treasure’ in a small vase in my office, his molting gift.
While I was watching the Ospreys, Miss Rosa had decided it was time for breakfast. She had come out from her hideout and was looking for food.
And the Reddish Egret had recovered from our first meeting and was hunting again with great determination.
I was delighted by the reception orchestrated by the salt marsh residents. So many of them were present on that beautiful morning last Saturday.
It may take a few days before we see such a glorious sunrise again as we are currently bracing for the impacts from a high grade tropical storm, hopefully not a hurricane, expected to brush our area tomorrow night and Thursday. I am hoping all our feathered friends will find shelter to keep them safe. Greetings from all of us.
In my dad’s garden, the apples were still growing, getting more colorful every day. And the healthy buckthorn berries were almost ripe to pick.
On our daily walks, of which at least one went all the way around the lake, I noticed and enjoyed the small things in nature. Like the butterflies, the Peacock and the Mourning Cloak we found around our trail.
I heard the hum of the universe in the Finnish forests, mighty green with stately firs, pines and birches. And rowan trees full of red berries for the birds to enjoy.
And I admired the great variety of wildflowers we encountered on our walks: wild roses, blue bells, clover, dandelions, heather and floating beds of water lilies.
I stopped to take pictures of them and then had to run to reach the others. Great exercise…some days over 12,000 steps. Not that I’m counting :-). Although in fairness, our awesome guide would stop and wait for me if I disappeared from sight. He always made sure nobody was left behind in the woods.
Whether it was morning, late afternoon or evening, the lake always spoiled us with gorgeous views.
One evening we spotted a couple of Whooper Swans very close to the shore, but of course that time I didn’t carry my camera. The next evening I could only find one of them at the far end of the lake.
We often came back from our explorations around the magical ‘blue hour’ after sunset. Then, soon after night fall around 10 p.m., the moon climbed up onto the sky painting the lake in magical colors.
My last evening ‘back home’ I went out to the lake and got a surprising goodbye gift. A Loon swam quietly out through the reeds fairly close to me. What a treat!
The next morning I had to leave at 3 am to make my early flight to London and further to the US. The archipelago outside Helsinki was just waking up to a new day. I felt deep gratitude for having had this wonderful time with my dad, my sister, my niece, aunts and cousins.
The next morning after coming home, I found a welcome committee from the salt marsh right here in our garden. Snowy Egrets, White Ibis and a Northern Mockingbird had gathered to welcome me home.
That was wonderful, but nothing compared to the reception I got on my first walk at the salt marsh this morning. Can’t wait to tell you all about the welcome back party.
And an impressive bronze bird, an eagle perhaps, who had settled in the yard more recently.
On the only rainy day during my visit ‘back home’, we decided to visit the annual art exhibition just before it would close for the fall. At Leporanta, paintings are shown in traditional log houses and old barns, but sculptures made of iron, copper, wood, glass and composite materials are exhibited all over the vibrantly green grounds. Here a friend, my niece and my sister are examining handmade glass decorations at one of the log buildings.
I was smiling at the cute family swinging happily in front of the main house: mother, father and son. Family fun rarely seen.
Inside the exhibition buildings we found smaller sculptures and paintings by both professional artists and amateurs. Many different materials, styles and price tags. To my delight I found lots of bird motives. Like this painting on wood boards by artist Marianne Kantanen.
Thank you for coming along. I hope you enjoyed the tour. My last post in this R & R series will bring us back into the nature around our lake ‘back home’.
After actually sleeping quite a bit over the Atlantic, and everything running on time in London, I arrived in Finland surprisingly intact. For someone who gets to see family ‘back home’ only about once a year these trips are always nostalgic. Many kinds of pictures from the past suddenly surface. Me as a toddler moving into our new home with mom, dad and baby sister. A home built by our dad. A home that still stands tall, here pictured on a moonlit night the week before last.
Me in elementary school. And the memory of laying down on this very school yard bleeding profusely after being hit right on the nose with a baseball bat by a fellow student in the PE class. A ring of worried people bending over me when I wake up. This eight year old’s Miss Universe dreams brutally smashed. But at least she got a few days off school while her eyes couldn’t see anything but the humongous nose.
Me in high school, and then as an undergraduate and graduate student in the big city of Tampere about 45 miles away from home. That was a wild time. Initially. But then we all mature and somehow life finds its intended path. I pass familiar places, but they are not the same. Like this old Orthodox Church next to my university. It used to reach for the blue skies all alone, but now has a backdrop of a brand new hotel tower. Progress.
When I pass my high school, I notice the Lutheran Church completed while I was a junior. Very modern architecture at the time, and in my eyes it still holds lots of appeal. I find comfort in the fact that at least a few places look like I remember them.
On the 3.5-hour journey from the capital to my childhood home, more familiar places fly by the window. Now illuminated by the late afternoon sun. And my early years come back to me with a profound sense of gratitude.
And soon I was there. At the lake that belongs to my childhood more than anything. And one that still symbolizes peace and tranquility in my life.
That first night I couldn’t resist going out to the backyard after the late dinner. I was marveling at the fact that dusk arrived only around 10 p.m. And the fact that my dear dad still kept a thriving garden.
That moonlit night I felt the peace of this wonderful spot on earth. And I knew those precious, long-awaited moments with family had arrived.
The toddler, teenager and adult merged into a surprisingly balanced whole and let out a long exhale into the cool night air.
TINY LESSONS BLOG 