Don’t give a hoot

Barn owls don't give a hoot. They screech and hiss and purr instead.

Coffee break

"What's that," I hissed, clutching my husband's arm.  There! There it was again! A strange hissing/shriek.  Even as he whipped out his phone and opened the Merlin app my mind had sorted and shuffled birds calls.  I knew it was a raptor of some kind….."It's a Barred Owl," my husband exclaimed.  

It didn't take us long to spot it perched on a great curving tree limb above the creek.  They hunt for crayfish but this owl was on his coffee break. 

"Who who whoo whooooooo," I said, by way of trying to strike up a conversation. 

But he just stared and tipped his head sideways.  When you are on a break, you are on a break. 

I can tell

A little shore bird is the first thing I see every morning when I swing wide my door. He's never startled.  Just bravely stands his ground. 

His migration route was likely a very interesting story if he could speak.  He lived briefly at a thrift shop amongst the pressed glass and pottery. Such a sweet little fellow.  

He was banded and a tiny tag around his ankle had a single word. Kenya. Clever, nimble fingers far away gave him life. 

And away he flew to Canada.  

I can tell he's happy.  He's settled right in and has made his home between the hosta and the astilbe.

Golden

A slender silhouette, still as a statue

A strip of silvery sand 

The sea, a molten pool of golden light

Where’s Waldo

Herons are big birds. Their silhouette is somehow gawky and graceful at the same time. They  are usually so easy to spot, poised in place like lawn ornaments gone rogue. But sometimes they are completely missing in action. Camouflage holds sway. Is that a graceful neck bending or a dead tree limb? Legs or reeds? Finding a heron can be like a game of Where’s Waldo. 

We stood

As we stood at the pond’s edge, bird song swirled in and out of focus. Was that a Cedar Waxwing? My husband’s phone knew. He has the Merlin app and a roll call began to blink on and off.  Chickadee, Robin, Redwinged Blackbird, Cedar Waxwing, Swainson’s Thrush. It was like an orchestra warming up. 

A Mallard mother skimmed along the surface of the pond as though pulled by a string. She looked straight ahead. Nary a feather ruffled.   She was followed by nine little ducklings. They swam in every direction at once and yet somehow ended up at the same destination as their mother. She seemed to do a head count before leading them into a narrow channel and out of sight. 

We followed a swallowtail back to the parking lot. 

Shout woodpecker

Flickers have such a distinctive flight pattern.  In fact, your mind will shout Woodpecker before your eyes have a chance to cry out, flicker!

great day for ducks

 

Whenever it rained,  my father would declare, "It's a great day for ducks." Good to know isn't it, that someone is happily paddling about as the rain sluices down.

Downspouts gurgle and purcolate. Wet windows waver like antique glass, and a thousand tiny squares in the window screen hold water droplets: abstract art, cross-stitched in silver threads. 

P.S. My mind seemed determined to paint a chick instead of a duckling and I had to scrub out a couple areas and things got a bit muddy and murky. Just like a duck pond?

wild winged

( black bird on bull rush card )

wild winged flute

a buzz and a blur

Hummingbirds are a buzz and a blur.

once for all

"Have you seen the robin eggs yet?" my granddaughter asks. "No," I say, leaping from the lawn chair in anticipation.  Away we dash,  around the corner of the house and up the stairs to the deck. Bumping into each other, clutching arms, and holding our breath, we tip toe towards the far corner. 

A robin has faithfully nested year after year in our yard and this trek to the deck has become a yearly pilgrimage.  We have knelt, bowing slowly, our foreheads touching the dry dusty boards, eyes zooming in and out of focus, the nest a few inches below. 

This year my granddaughter became the guide (and the tech support). She asked for my phone and placed it over the space between the boards, screen side up and there were the eggs! Three dusky green eggs glowing in the golden grass of the nest. No bending or bowing. She even snapped a picture for posterity, suggesting this new view would be less stressful for the mother robin, a sort of once for all and all for once.

November sky

Seagulls, their wings a flash of white against the gray, November sky.

floor show

An Achilles tendon injury has placed my husband on the couch with his foot up. Ice has been involved, and a heating pad by turns. It tends to flare and heal so that he is alternately, immobile, hobbling, limping, or gingerly walking.
On the weekend, while he was in a gingerly walking stage, we struck off for Aldergrove Lake Park.
We took lawn chairs and parked ourselves on a grassy rise overlooking the water.
Dragon flies patrolled the pond edge.
A turtle on a log was using solar power to plan its afternoon. 
An aggressive red-winged blackbird was the floor show though, as it chased cedar wax wings off of the bull rushes, and out of the reeds and away from the shrubs and out of the trees. Its flute-like, reedy call shrilled over and over.
Bullfrogs added the lower notes and our ears hummed with the sound of a thousand bees on the wild rose and blackberry blossoms.

wonders abound

I'm learning to carve!!
My husband kindly cut a blank out of basswood with a birdish shape.
He generously hunted out his carving knife and handed it over.
Turns out you hold the knife just as though you were pealing an apple or potato!
Hey, another rare moment when life itself is a transferable skill!
I have noticed that three exclamation marks have made it into this short post.
It's because at the intersection of learning and creating, wonders abound!
P.S. It's not finished yet. Many more whittles required. So far, no band-aids required

all eyes and beak

A little pom pom baby crow.

You can make a pom pom by winding four meters of yarn around the tines of a fork. Make two and you can create a baby crow; all eyes and beak.

all around

A robin soaking up the weak sunshine of early morning.
Flash after flash of barn swallow.
Sparrows hopping and hopping through the tangle of dry grass at lake edge.
Towhee sounding like a creaking gate opening somewhere deep in the hedge row.
The bugle of red winged blackbirds and high overhead, the white arched wings of sea gulls.
Birds all around.

just us

We no longer have to fit our walks in around work and weather. We do have to choose times and places that others aren't also choosing though. Today it was just us and the birds. A White-crowned sparrow clung to a branch in the sunshine and sang its sweet, sweet song. Then it turned and sang towards us and turned and sang again. North, south, east, west. It seemed to be sending a message out in all directions.
A little further along, a flicker called. There was a flash of orange and then there were two. One called from a baseball backstop while the other clutched a fence and listened with all its might.
We spotted a rock painted by a child.
And a flash of blue forget-me-nots.
Bright sun but cold, crisp wind as we were huffed and puffed down the sidewalk and into our yard.

more music

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls,

And like a thunderbolt he falls.

by Alfred Lord Tennyson 

I have a soft spot for Tennyson. He's the master of drama and his words are like music to my ears.

I can remember quoting this poem and having my grandson say the last line. I loved to hear him chant, "And like a thunderbolt he falls!!" That was like music to my ears too.

Pictures of eagles always make me hear this fragment of Hebrew poetry from Isaiah.  "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles"

More music to my ears.

little sparrow

I startled a little sparrow into stillness.

all around

We walked at Jackman Wetlands this morning. There wasn't a soul in sight. We were as socially distant as could be.
I am recovering from a fall; one of those dreadful stop, drop and rolls that can catch you unaware. A slow walk in the restorative sunshine and breeze seemed medicinal.
The Wetlands were full of wings. Mallard, teal, goose, merganser, junco, bald eagle, sparrow, towhee, coot, bufflehead, flicker, robin, canvasback and crow. Of course crow.
A garter snake magically appeared out of thin air on the path ahead and melted out of sight. Snakes are not very sociable. Nor was the second snake we saw further along. Although it did lift its head and look us over with bright bead black eyes and flickering tongue.
The sun was warm.
The path gentle.
The voice of birds all around.