Every year at Six Mile Falls on the Kenduskeag Stream, a phoebe arrives in mid-April and stakes its territory. It’s a wonderful territory for a phoebe – it can make its nest under the bridge, perch on the surrounding trees, fly over the pool below Six Mile Falls and snap insects out of the air. It’s a wonderful territory, except on the third Saturday in April, when the Kenduskeag Stream Canoe Race occurs.

The canoe race is a Rite of Spring, and this year it was a splendid day – the first really warm, sunny, beautiful spring day. The Kenduskeag was running high, and hundreds of people were milling on the banks, under the bridge, on the bridge, in canoes and kayaks – and thrashing in the water.

As it does every year, the phoebe flew desperately back and forth, upstream and back, across the stream and back, from one tree to the other, not knowing what to make of the mayhem and chaos.

There was more chaos and mayhem this year than most years. It was estimated that two-thirds of the paddlers who attempted to go over the falls tipped over. Some canoes went down the chute but filled with water and sank at the base of the falls. Other canoes and kayaks turned sideways and sank. A few appeared to rise dramatically out of the water like a whale breaching, falling back in the water sideways and sinking.

I went to Six Mile Falls the next day, another warm sunny day, to see if the phoebe was still there. A half of a canoe was on the banks, and lots of litter. The phoebe was still there – paddling its tail in the air as it perched, then flying out to catch a mayfly. It was a much quieter day and for the rest of the summer the territory will belong to the phoebe family – maybe more than one.

In another backwater, I heard an odd sound. At first I couldn’t quite place it – a series of squeaks and squeals. Then I saw two muskrats. The female was in front, paddling around in big circles, doing the squealing and squeaks. The male was closely following. That is their mating ritual; there is even a song written about it – “Muskrat Love.”

The warblers have started to arrive! May is the month that birders wait for all year. Every day brings new arrivals in their brightest, most colorful plumage. Pine, palm and yellow-rumped warblers have arrived. Black-and-white warblers, black-throated green warblers and Nashville warblers will have arrived by the third of May. And hermit thrushes will be singing their rich song, full of harmonics, once again.

For information on Fields Pond Audubon Center, call 989-2591.