The Field
16 May 2022
In search of solitude and brief respite from suburbia, I often walk the verge between field and river on a nearby weedy vacant lot that tops a short portion of the Sacramento River’s extensive levee system. As everywhere else on this river, trees line the banks along the southward bound Sacramento River, just above its convergence with the American River.
I’ve been taking walks here for months: winter has gone, spring is fading and morning heat signals that summer is nigh.
My first steps most often begin in this sandy patch of low sparse rough. I’ve seen perfectly color-matched butterflies hidden amidst these lavender wild-flowers.
The rain-like patter of cottonwood leaves provides percussion for the fluting birdsongs echoing through the trees and field.
Often-times I’ve seen sand-hill cranes coursing the path of the river, flying low and slow past me.
In the field grasses, jittering killdeers seek to distract me from nests.
Woodpeckers and swallows live rent-free in mostly-dead cottonwoods that shine silver-bright in midday sun. A few days ago I was delighted to spot this bald eagle perching atop that old cottonwood skeleton. It was my first ever sighting of this local celebrity. This eagle’s nest is known to be located atop a pole near the busy I-Street Bridge, downriver from this point, a mile or so.
As I walk the length of the field, black phoebes dart for flies. Out of the oaks ahead of me, they cross my path, into the rough and back.
A golden brown squirrel, tail held low, zigs and zags across the field over a black-top road and into the fragrant jasmine-thatched ditch beyond.
Recently, a herd of goats were employed to “mow” the river-banks. They are gone now, their work finished after dropping their brown berries and stripping bare the cool riparian grass and lush understory. Also gone are the lovely purple flowers and the bees who had busied themselves amongst them.
A few days ago I happened on newly planted survey stakes at the far end of the field where I usually turn to walk back. They most certainly mark new boundaries where my future walks are destined to end. “My field” is, after all, part of a high-end housing district that is now being marked for further development.