Merlin and I

Sunday morning Merlin and I stood in the Halibut Point parking lot taking in a hyper chorus of bird sound. It was well past dawn but visibility was dimmed by mists. That might have had something to do with the remarkable volume. The birds must have had important things to say to each other about the breaking day but couldn't locate their companions well by eye. I couldn't see them either, so I consulted Merlin about whose voice was whose. Merlin's an app.

Merlin quickly identified a dozen species of birds in the gloom by their songs and calls. Little pictures and names flashed on my phone screen every time Merlin matched one of these sounds to its vast storehouse of bird vocalizations. Each bird had a unique species voice print. Merlin listened through a microphone more sensitive than my own ears and consulted its encyclopedic data base developed by the Cornell Ornithology Lab. The digital era was interpreting nature in the open air, on steroids.

Merlin picked out patterns from the cacophony. Some of the distinctions were easy enough, such as between Crows and Cardinals and Wrens. Some were more subtle, say, between Robins and Red-eyed Vireo, or Goldfinches and Cedar Waxwings. Merlin was impressively decisive in its conclusions.

When the mist turned to rain the chorus dimmed to sotto voce like an operatic warm-up continuing as a murmur. Merlin and I went for a walk around the Park to extend our perceptions in diverse habitats. Circling around the quarry and back we doubled our list to two dozen species heard, if not seen. Curiously, I recognized a Great Crested Flycatcher and a Song Sparrow before Merlin did. I wondered if Merlin was just being cautious. At my beginner's level they make unique sounds.

We encountered a Mockingbird reveling full throat in its triplets of mimicry. Merlin knew that voice immediately. Then it reported a series of improbable birds in the area: Bluebird, Greater Yellowlegs, Killdeer. I think the talented Mockingbird was pulling a fast one on Merlin. There's a human lesson on fallibility for the machine.

By myself I've never been able to get very far with learning avian songs. The birds and I don't have the same vocabulary or mode of speech. I have wondered if it would be possible to devise a set of visual flashcards for memorization drills, to write out some scheme of their pitches and patterns for systematic study and quiz myself with random glances. Now enter Merlin. Every time it gives an ID I can repeat the sound in mind and tongue to firm the familiarity, right there in the field.

Merlin is a hip pocket tour leader tied directly to the digital universe. Presumably it is named for the magician of King Arthur's Court. It conjures information from The Cloud and links to all sorts of resources. Anyone can download it without fees or bother, although donations are of course appreciated

The app world is here.

Morning Light

 

Even before the sun comes over the horizon early risers find wondrous compositions in the sky.

A bit later, before the landscape is intensely illuminated, the sun's rays backlight delicate features with translucent effects.

Areas still in shadow present an inky contrast to the luminous patterns overhead.

Low-angled light washes some faces of the quarry walls and throws adjacent ones into shadow, making abstract patterns of the facades.

Turning around and peering into the brightness it's difficult to distinguish color and detail. Our eyes see scintillations and silhouettes.

These sensory challenges can simulate wintry visions on a pleasant spring morning.

Gradually the rising sun warms the colors of the day.

Within a few hours of dawn the colors attain their greatest richness before being washed out by solar glare, the source and arbiter of light.

Dear Catbird

 

Dear Catbird,

This is a fan letter thanking you for your spark at the Park and for all the times you've made me smile.

Generally we hear you before we see you, streaming out those notes you borrow from the world at large.

Some people think your voice isn't as elegant as more reputable avian mimics.

Brown Thrasher

Sure, Thrashers have their brief season of perfect pitch clarity,...

Northern Mockingbird

...and Mockingbirds sound off with their varied strident talents.

You're the folksy, unpretentious vocalist randomly improvising for the hell of it. It doesn't have to be perfect.

Gray Catbird in the eggplant row

The thing is that you have a quiet, companionable side, admittedly with an angle, when you show up during home gardening chores looking for tidbits in freshly turned earth.

You've come right into the garage to rummage in the bin of potting soil. You've perched on the back of my chair. You don't have the flashiest plumage but quite possibly you do have the brightest eye. For a moment I stop what I'm doing to catch that inquisitive glint.

Quarry Hardware

 

A rainy day early last spring presented good conditions for pondering opportunism by man and nature on the granite face of Halibut Point. I was drawn to the viewing conditions where details of familiar features stood out more conspicuously than usual, both with abandoned iron hardware so arduously driven into the stone, and the adventitious lichen prospering in the rain. These two intrusions coincide 'ironically' on many quarry ledges.

Diffused light on such a day brings out the craftsmanship of the industrial artifacts. The cool moist air also adds luminescence to the lichen colonies.

Every quarrying relic suggests the scale and care and stubbornness of the business.

Towering derricks were secured by these holdfasts. The rigging makes a prodigious if untold part of the story.

As durable as they once were the iron fabrications are dissolving to rust while lichens extend their claim on surrounding surfaces.

The lichens are the first stage of vegetation pioneering over the remnants of enterprise.

Soil-building processes support the advance of the organic life.

Today we can only imagine the ingenuity of the quarrymen, the sophistication of their calculations, the network of forges and suppliers they relied on in engineering their trade.

Easier to grasp is the design of feathers and wedge that puts pressure effectively within the mass of a stone rather than spalling its surface when splitting granite by hand.

Certainly the stone workers tried never to waste a blow or a mechanical advantage in their labor.