Boarding the sailboat in Buzzards Bay at the beginning of the July Fourth weekend, we saw a nest wedged into the anchor lying along the bowsprit. There were two beige- and brown-speckled eggs inside, and a bird swooping over us in distressed loops. After a discussion, the nest was carefully transferred to a bucket, which was taken below deck and wedged in tightly, and we set sail somewhat reluctantly. Whenever we came about, one of us went below to hold the bucket still and re-secure it. At the end of the day, back at the mooring, we returned the nest to its original position. Days later came an update from some of our crew: The nest was there, and in it were three eggs.
Donna Levin / Newton
Down for the count
I was teaching my 4-year-old granddaughter Sophia about plants this spring. We identified birch trees, maples, and a blooming forsythia. “Grammie, if this year it is a forsythia,” she asked, “next year will it be a ‘fivesythia?’ ”
Patty Glidden / Arlington
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