Down on the Farm: Nature's fairies

Hummingbirds flit and buzz about the four feeders in our pollinator garden at Farmstead Creamery. They duck under the canopied entrance, sometimes sitting on the strings that hold the top snugly. They chatter at each other, swooping and diving in and out of the hydrangeas and bee balms.

The aerobatics of these tiny birds are stunning, their iridescent feathers glinting in the summer sunlight. Sometimes as I step out to help clients with scoops of our sheep milk gelato, they will buzz past right in front of my face! Be careful, little friends; I don’t need a hummingbird earring!

“Look at all your hummingbirds!” is a common cry as folks look around as they await their order. “And they all get along so well!”

Some flit about, looking for an open spot at the feeder, while others sit and drink and drink and drink. We admire them for a time, laughing at their playful antics.

“If fairies were birds, they would be hummingbirds,” I muse, smiling.

I was just finishing up teaching a tapestry class on Zoom from the upstairs fiber loft of Farmstead when I can hear Mom holler from downstairs, “Laura, we have a situation!”

Wrapping up the session, I trip down the stairs to find her standing on a ladder, her hand over a colander held up to the wall.

“What is it?”

I scramble closer to see if I can help with whatever might be trapped beneath the sieve.

“A luna moth followed me in when I opened the door.”

She is still awkwardly holding the colander to keep the wee beastie from escaping. The light green winged creature is trembling, fluttering as a self-defense method to startle predators.

Climbing up, I’m able to reach behind and coax the delicate moth onto my fingers, and we carefully take it outside. It perches there a time so we can enjoy taking some pictures, then flits off back to the forest, unharmed. Surely, if fairies were insects, they would be luna moths, so ethereal and delicate.

All the rain this year has been magical for the frogs and toads, compared to the previous seasons of droughts. In the evenings, I can hear the toads singing at the edges of the yard, their high-pitched chortles belying their whereabouts. Some night, a tree frog partakes of the light inside the house, gluing his or her rounded toes onto the French door, white belly plastered against the glass. I can see the sack-like chin bobbing with each breath as it waits for dinner to arrive — a free buffet at the back door for a frog.

Some nights, the frog pays no attention to my presence, even as I open and close the door. Other times, it’s leaping off in a flash as soon as I draw near, glistening and mottled green in the light of my headlamp. If fairies were amphibians, surely they would be tree frogs — here one minute, there the next, defying gravity.

It has not been a year for many fawns, but the other day, I was taking packages to the mailbox when one bounded out of the ditch onto the gravel lane. Fortunately, I was going about 5 miles an hour and could easily stop as it looked at me, ears flicking this way and that. The spotted sides heaved as it panted and tried to decide what to do. I just waited patiently, watching. Then off it scampered into the underbrush, an appearance that was just as much there in one moment then vanished into the next.

I peered into the forest where it had gone but could see not a thing. It’s quite remarkable how does can do that as well, even when you know they’ve just stepped inside the leafy cover and turned around to watch you.

Then when I came back from the mailbox, there was the fawn again, in the road, just as clueless as before. I stopped once more, waiting, until eventually it darted off again, slim legs scampering, spots a blur. It looked so innocent in its confusion, I could not help but think that if fairies were furry mammals, surely a fawn would be a good choice.

These and many other precious and delicate creatures of the woods and meadows of the farm help remind us of the magic and wonder that is around us all the time. They help us remember to pause from the bustle of weeding and planting and hauling hay to stop and watch and smile. Summers on the farm can be so full of endless work and “to-do” lists that just keep getting longer, it’s helpful to have these fairies of nature reminds us to pause and enjoy the magic that is the preciousness and diversity of life around us.

This week, take time to notice and care for our wildlife fairies. See you down on the farm sometime.