Sometimes nature speaks in the rustle of leaves, the chatter of wrens, or the distant call of coyotes at dusk. Other times, it speaks in quieter—but no less powerful—ways. This month, it spoke through rain.
Since installing a new weather station at The Dodson’s Bird Observatory on April 22, 2025, I’ve started keeping a closer eye on what the skies are saying. And this past month, they’ve said quite a lot. According to the station, June brought 8.16 inches of rainfall, bringing the total since installation to 9.43 inches.
One notable rain event dropped 1.53 inches in a single day. That’s the kind of soaking that fills vernal pools, deepens the green of the grass, and triggers a chorus of frogs that hadn’t made a peep in weeks. But it’s also a reminder of how sensitive the landscape can be to sudden changes in water—especially when those changes are fast and heavy.
Walking the trails after these rains, I noticed something subtle: the pollinator meadow was buzzing louder, the grasses were thicker, and birds seemed to be shifting their routines. Swallows skimmed lower to feed on emerging insects. Ground-nesting sparrows kept closer to the brushy edges, wary of the soggy field bottoms.
This is the kind of real-time environmental storytelling that a weather station makes possible. It doesn’t just collect numbers—it connects the dots. From rainfall to runoff, from puddle to pollinator, every inch of precipitation shapes the way this landscape functions. And now, I can watch those patterns unfold with a new level of insight.
As I continue to monitor rainfall, temperature, and other changes here at The Dodson’s Bird Observatory, my hope is to better understand the subtle and not-so-subtle shifts in the rhythm of the land—and share them with you. Because when you listen closely, even a rain gauge can tell a story.
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