Last Saturday, about 6 a.m., I walked down the driveway to pick up Saturday’s Times News. The morning was very quiet. A lone mourning dove called its plaintiff call and our resident song sparrow tried its best to pipe out its song, but it almost seemed halfhearted.

As I grabbed the paper from the box, a slight breeze dislodged dozens of yellow leaflets from the black walnuts across the street and they floated slowly to the ground. Further down the road, more were falling from another walnut tree. Walnuts are usually the first trees to shed some of their leaves in preparation for autumn.

Walking back to the house, I remembered that the three robin youngsters in the redbud tree had fledged earlier that week. They, and the robin pair, were nowhere to be seen. In fact, all bird activity has slowed. Just a few days earlier I watched one of the young bluebirds take its first flight from the bluebird box in the front yard. Meanwhile, bluebird pair number two in the backyard is still feeding young, but they too will take flight shortly. Another season of building back the populations is almost over.

Later that morning, driving just north of Palmerton. I noticed over a dozen barn swallows lined up on the utility lines. They were probably the young of the year. The swallows have also finished nesting and will feed generously to build up reserves for their long journey to Argentina (about the 20th of the month). Also absent that morning was the male red-winged blackbird that graced the cattails in a wet area of a field. Their nesting is also complete and he, and the offspring, have left this breeding area. When I got to my destination in Franklin Township, the “woods” were very quiet. Just weeks before, a great crested flycatcher, a scarlet tanager, ovenbird and indigo bunting were still singing.

Over my decades of being a nature “nut” I am still amazed at the predictability of these events. I’ve already discussed how the shrinking daylight and hormone changes lead to the ebb in bird’s singing. Most of the passerine birds, like robins, bluebirds, grackles or swallows, have two nests each summer. Trying to start a third nesting would most likely result in poor success due to shorter daylight hours and less time to raise and feed that brood before the cold settles in. And besides, most have a LONG flight to make to the tropics, and that will start soon.

Nature seems to ensure that our variety of wildflowers bloom at different times, allowing bees, hummingbirds or butterflies to find nectar throughout the entire summer. When the oxeye daisies stop blooming, Joe Pye weed or milkweed bloom and fill the needs of the aforementioned animals. I noticed my first monarch butterfly about two weeks ago, and now a number are laying eggs in a 1,500-square-foot milkweed patch I maintain for them. When those butterflies emerge from their chrysalis, they’ll feed, and soon begin the trek to Mexico.

In a week or two, those same black walnuts, that are slowly shedding their leaves, will also have their branches drooping with this year’s crop of walnuts. Squirrels will feast on them or cache them away. Soon after, the oaks’ acorns will ripen and the squirrels will frantically stow them away, too. Almost if following the script to a play, nature gives us the subtle hints that the changing to the next season isn’t that far away.

Test Your Outdoor Knowledge: When just one of the big brown bats leaves the Gilberts’ bat boxes at night, it can eat about ____ insects before returning to rest in the morning. A. 3,000; B. 1,000; C. 500; D. 50.

Last Week’s Trivia Answer: Most bat species only give birth to one pup each year, but the big brown bat normally has two young.

Email Barry Reed at breed71@gmail.com