Downy Woodpecker
Junco
Mockingbird
Black-Capped Chickadee
Carolina Wren
Oregon Pink-Sided Junco (? possibly)
Red-Breasted Nuthatch
Purple Finch
Dove
Cardinal
Tufted Titmouse
...and most of these came in multiples! Now that the semester's over, I could guiltlessly watch the birds in my backyard this morning instead of rush to revise essays the moment I got out of bed. It was fabulous. I only wish the doves had been turtle-doves because there were two of them. :-)
Updates on the backyards and blue jays: They both had a wonderful summer. I wondered why I didn't blog about them during the summer, and I concluded that they're so obviously beautiful when all is green and verdant and lively that it seems like overkill to call attention to what's already so apparent on its own. But this time of year, when the snow and ice are coating the backyard, and blue skies (like this morning) are rare, when the birds depend on our birdfeeders and the heated birdbath, I like to mention the brave birds who stick around even during the cold, dark Pennsylvania winter.
Some notes:
The mockingbird disappeared all summer, much to my great disappointment. A few months ago (Oct 5, actually), the mockingbird came back, perched on top of the black walnut tree, and sang for about a half-hour to announce his return. (Okay, I don't know it's the same one, but I like to think so.) I think I even heard a seagull in his new repertoire. Where were you all summer, dear bird?
About a month ago, I was outside at 1:00 a.m. trying to see the Leonids, but it was too cloudy. As I was stepping back into the nice, warm house, I heard an owl! It wasn't in my yard, but a few yards down, in a thicket of pine trees I believe. Judging by its hoot, I think it was a Great Horned Owl. I've been listening for it in the meantime, but I'm afraid he was just passing through. Sad. We've certainly got enough chipmunks around to last him the winter.
Showing posts with label birds. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birds. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Dog-Sitting
My neighbors went on vacation this week and asked whether I'd like to watch their dog.
The answer, initially, was no way, but I didn't tell them that. I'm not much of a dog person, and this particular dog has a bad reputation. But I did agree to at least meet the canine and let his owner walk me through the basics of vacation care.
The dog loves me.
I don't know why, but he has taken to me like a mockingbird takes to a new birdcall. And their yard, just three doors up the hill from mine, is like a different environment altogether. As the dog sniffs around his yard and does his thing, I get to watch a different set of birdfeeders, observe a different view of the horizon, and listen, listen, listen.
Yesterday, there was a rufus-sided towhee whistling in the trees. Today, I could see elk on the next hill over. Even the wind sounds a little different from that part of the hill.
Tomorrow is my last day of watching the dog, mainly because I myself am going out of town for a few days (if you're lucky, you might get an update about it on my travel blog). But I think that I might still venture up to my neighbor's yard occasionally this summer when I am in town. It's funny how a slight change of angle can give you a whole new perspective on a familiar place.
The answer, initially, was no way, but I didn't tell them that. I'm not much of a dog person, and this particular dog has a bad reputation. But I did agree to at least meet the canine and let his owner walk me through the basics of vacation care.
The dog loves me.
I don't know why, but he has taken to me like a mockingbird takes to a new birdcall. And their yard, just three doors up the hill from mine, is like a different environment altogether. As the dog sniffs around his yard and does his thing, I get to watch a different set of birdfeeders, observe a different view of the horizon, and listen, listen, listen.
Yesterday, there was a rufus-sided towhee whistling in the trees. Today, I could see elk on the next hill over. Even the wind sounds a little different from that part of the hill.
Tomorrow is my last day of watching the dog, mainly because I myself am going out of town for a few days (if you're lucky, you might get an update about it on my travel blog). But I think that I might still venture up to my neighbor's yard occasionally this summer when I am in town. It's funny how a slight change of angle can give you a whole new perspective on a familiar place.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Storm Petrels in Portugal
Look what I get to do in June!
These little birds -- Storm Petrels or "Stormies" -- have fascinating migratory routes, and like many sea birds, seldom come to land. A Rocha Portugal, an environmental conservation organization, is tracking these Stormies to learn more about climate change and its impact on marine life.
Now, I should add that I know next to nothing about how to catch, ring, and release wild birds, but I do know how to be quiet and observe what's happening around me. And that's just what I intend to do this June when I spend a week with A Rocha, so that I can write about my experiences when I get home!
Excited? Of course! As much as I love my backyard, it's been four years since I've been to Europe, and ages since I've done much of anything truly exciting. Like the Stormies, it's time for me to follow my migratory route eastward and over the ocean.
These little birds -- Storm Petrels or "Stormies" -- have fascinating migratory routes, and like many sea birds, seldom come to land. A Rocha Portugal, an environmental conservation organization, is tracking these Stormies to learn more about climate change and its impact on marine life.
Now, I should add that I know next to nothing about how to catch, ring, and release wild birds, but I do know how to be quiet and observe what's happening around me. And that's just what I intend to do this June when I spend a week with A Rocha, so that I can write about my experiences when I get home!
Excited? Of course! As much as I love my backyard, it's been four years since I've been to Europe, and ages since I've done much of anything truly exciting. Like the Stormies, it's time for me to follow my migratory route eastward and over the ocean.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Tea and Ten O'Clock
I find it easier to bird watch while seated at my dining room table drinking a mug of tea. It's more comfortable, for one thing, on these 30° mornings, and the birds can't see or smell or hear me while I'm behind the glass panes of my patio door. This morning, while nursing some steaming English Breakfast tea, I watched to see how the avian life has changed in the past two months.
The first bird I saw, of course, was a brazen blue jay, sweeping from the patio roof to drink from the bird bath on the deck railing, his wings and tail feathers spread out like a kite. The robins, newly arrived from some undisclosed southern location, were still more timid, and all week the mockingbirds have been chasing them from every corner of our yard. Their feathers flash like Semaphore flags as they fly.
Grackles then rose past the deck in an Air Force-like formation, and a red-winged blackbird preened his wings in our neighbor's tree, his ruddy shoulders flashing like air traffic control signals. I could hear the doves and a woodpecker, but it took a half-hour for the dove to appear on the garden fence. The woodpecker, however, remained hidden for the morning.
I was surprised to find no goldfinches, pine siskins, or black-capped chickadees, but then I remembered that they like food, and the birdfeeders out my dining room window are empty. A glance through the kitchen window, and I found them congregating on the feeders hanging from the clothesline.
With my tea drained and ten birds identified, I left the warmth of my dining room to walk among the neighbors who live in my backyard. I usually ramble through my yard in the evenings, and this morning walk was quite different. The birds were more active at this time of day, fighting for nesting space in our ash and cedar trees like pioneers in the midwest land rush. English sparrows bother my neighbor's tree and a starling couple bickers over the suet, the female finally winning out and eating first. A red squirrel bustled across the roof of the garden shed, skittish after a close encounter with the wookiee's front paw on Saturday.
But the active members of the garden aren't the only signs of life. The crocuses glowed in the morning sunlight, soon to be hidden again in the shade of the chimney on the north side of our house. The pussywillow buds cracked through the tips of the branches like warm, fuzzy snowflakes. The grass is still bleached from the harsh winter, but green leafy arrows shoot like promises from every flowerbed in the yard.
Two months ago, I dreaded the spring. But today, I think maybe its vibrant embrace will cushion the discomfort of another transition.
:31°F:
:clear and sunny skies:
The first bird I saw, of course, was a brazen blue jay, sweeping from the patio roof to drink from the bird bath on the deck railing, his wings and tail feathers spread out like a kite. The robins, newly arrived from some undisclosed southern location, were still more timid, and all week the mockingbirds have been chasing them from every corner of our yard. Their feathers flash like Semaphore flags as they fly.
Grackles then rose past the deck in an Air Force-like formation, and a red-winged blackbird preened his wings in our neighbor's tree, his ruddy shoulders flashing like air traffic control signals. I could hear the doves and a woodpecker, but it took a half-hour for the dove to appear on the garden fence. The woodpecker, however, remained hidden for the morning.
I was surprised to find no goldfinches, pine siskins, or black-capped chickadees, but then I remembered that they like food, and the birdfeeders out my dining room window are empty. A glance through the kitchen window, and I found them congregating on the feeders hanging from the clothesline.
With my tea drained and ten birds identified, I left the warmth of my dining room to walk among the neighbors who live in my backyard. I usually ramble through my yard in the evenings, and this morning walk was quite different. The birds were more active at this time of day, fighting for nesting space in our ash and cedar trees like pioneers in the midwest land rush. English sparrows bother my neighbor's tree and a starling couple bickers over the suet, the female finally winning out and eating first. A red squirrel bustled across the roof of the garden shed, skittish after a close encounter with the wookiee's front paw on Saturday.
But the active members of the garden aren't the only signs of life. The crocuses glowed in the morning sunlight, soon to be hidden again in the shade of the chimney on the north side of our house. The pussywillow buds cracked through the tips of the branches like warm, fuzzy snowflakes. The grass is still bleached from the harsh winter, but green leafy arrows shoot like promises from every flowerbed in the yard.
Two months ago, I dreaded the spring. But today, I think maybe its vibrant embrace will cushion the discomfort of another transition.
:31°F:
:clear and sunny skies:
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Urban Birds
I may vacillate between calling my neighborhood rural and suburban, but one thing is unquestionably certain: it is not urban. I'm technically in a township -- not even within "town" limits -- and, as I said earlier this week, I have no sidewalks.
But if I were in an urban setting, I might consider applying for a Celebrate Urban Birds mini-grant to encourage bird watching in urban areas. DNLee at Urban Science Adventures talks about the Celebrate Urban Birds project on her blog, and I hope that the idea takes off.
When I lived in Baltimore, I saw plenty of surprising birds, among them a pileated woodpecker and some kind of owl, plus countless others that I never took the time to identify. I wish I had, however, and had recruited friends and neighbors to join me.
In my nature writing course, we've been talking a lot this week about finding the green spaces in a city, and by "green," we aren't necessarily talking "environmentally-friendly" places, which would include recycling centers and solar panels. Those are great (I'm a big fan), but almost more important are the spots that are literally green. Community gardens, flower boxes, and dandelions growing through the cracks in a sidewalk are all little reminders that the concrete and brick still mix with the naturally-occurring ... nature. And my classmates agree that these green moments have succeeded in restoring our selves (hearts, minds, souls) from the daily drudge.
This Celebrate Urban Birds mini-grant would encourage city-dwellers to look for the natural elements that aren't green, too, by looking up. (I've never seen a green pigeon, woodpecker, or owl!) By interacting with each other and encouraging the neighborhood kids, especially, to look for birds like some kind of treasure hunt, we city- (and former city-) dwellers could start to once again seek out the "green" within the city.
Even here in the 'burbs (or sticks) we often forget to treasure the creatures both great and small that are as much our neighbors as the family in the house next door. With or without a grant, inside or outside city limits, we can all make the effort to notice the natural, appreciate the avians, and pass on our passion so that others can have those green, restorative moments, too.
But if I were in an urban setting, I might consider applying for a Celebrate Urban Birds mini-grant to encourage bird watching in urban areas. DNLee at Urban Science Adventures talks about the Celebrate Urban Birds project on her blog, and I hope that the idea takes off.
When I lived in Baltimore, I saw plenty of surprising birds, among them a pileated woodpecker and some kind of owl, plus countless others that I never took the time to identify. I wish I had, however, and had recruited friends and neighbors to join me.
In my nature writing course, we've been talking a lot this week about finding the green spaces in a city, and by "green," we aren't necessarily talking "environmentally-friendly" places, which would include recycling centers and solar panels. Those are great (I'm a big fan), but almost more important are the spots that are literally green. Community gardens, flower boxes, and dandelions growing through the cracks in a sidewalk are all little reminders that the concrete and brick still mix with the naturally-occurring ... nature. And my classmates agree that these green moments have succeeded in restoring our selves (hearts, minds, souls) from the daily drudge.
This Celebrate Urban Birds mini-grant would encourage city-dwellers to look for the natural elements that aren't green, too, by looking up. (I've never seen a green pigeon, woodpecker, or owl!) By interacting with each other and encouraging the neighborhood kids, especially, to look for birds like some kind of treasure hunt, we city- (and former city-) dwellers could start to once again seek out the "green" within the city.
Even here in the 'burbs (or sticks) we often forget to treasure the creatures both great and small that are as much our neighbors as the family in the house next door. With or without a grant, inside or outside city limits, we can all make the effort to notice the natural, appreciate the avians, and pass on our passion so that others can have those green, restorative moments, too.
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