Calm before the storm

The title of this piece could refer to the muggy weather we’ve experienced in recent weeks, which has been accompanied by intense summer storms; or the phenomenon of Hurricane Season, which reaches its peak around now.

However, I am after a third sense in which we experience “the calm before the storm†at this time of year, and that is the one found in the sights and sounds of birds and other wildlife.

A strange kind of quiet comes over most birds in August — or else they’ve changed their tune. A few undaunted song sparrows and American goldfinches are still singing their full songs, but most other birds have fallen silent or replaced their songs with urgent calls, the small “chips†and “chirps†that convey the location of each other and of food sources.

These birds have, for the most part, finished raising their young, and are now busily engaged in feeding to fatten up for their long journey southward. (Goldfinches are a notable exception; they raise their young in late summer because they feed them almost exclusively a diet of sunflower and other seeds that ripen in these days.)

When, in September, migration reaches its full intensity, then it will be like the unleashing of a great storm — a hurricane of millions of wings frantically beating their way to warmer climates in a journey of almost unthinkable stamina and courage (if such can be said of a bird).

They are not the only ones.  A generation of monarch butterflies is also feeding on nectar in preparation for the flight to southern Mexico; the first stirrings of movement are already visible all around us. Joining the monarchs will be hordes of green darners and several other species of migratory dragonflies.

Silent flocks of swallows are gathering daily in increasing numbers, swooping over our ponds and lakes in feeding frenzy, and roosting in nearby marshes.  An alert observer might encounter a flock of common nighthawks similarly swirling over an open field.

We tend to think of seasons as being separated by a bright line, or as defined by daily temperature and weather patterns. The warm, dog days of summer are upon us, we say. But in nature, and especially for wildlife, there are no such arbitrary distinctions, no summer vacation in the Hamptons or on Cape Cod.

So it is that at the same time our children are returning to school, there is a palpable hum that you can feel just below the surface, a vibration in the air, an omen of autumn even in the hazy days of summer. It is the calm before the storm.

Fred Baumgarten is a writer and naturalist living in Sharon. He can be reached at fredb58@sbcglobal.net.