Learning To Bird With Lunch

Winter Surprise: Vermont Birds

2012-02-06T16:28:00.001-08:00

Napkin sketch: White Breasted Nuthatch

The winter birds of Vermont are a very small and sparse subset. We flew to Vermont to surprise our niece for her 30^th birthday; I packed a cocktail dress and my binoculars. However, there are not many winged critters to see there this time of year. Maggie explained that most of the Green Mountain regulars go south for the winter, and those migrating from the far reaches of the north bypass the ice fields of Vermont in favor of a place with warm breezes and plenty of bugs.

There were hearty Starlings in each small town "green", the traditional park that anchors the center of every hamlet. For some reason Chelsea has TWO town greens, which completely throws off everyone's sense of direction in that town.
Now and then I caught the flash of white that distinguishes the east coast Blue Jay from our west coast version, the Steller's Jay.
On our last afternoon I was blessed with a sighting of a White Breasted Nuthatch, a first for me.

Dave and I spent a long time at the Vermont Institute of Natural Science where there is a raptor rescue and rehabilitation center. There was a Snowy Owl raised in captivity that wanted to talk; we were virtually the only humans visiting on this very cold Friday, and the Snowy was eager to tell us all she knew. The Northern Harrier was bored, flying fitfully in its enclosure. The Raven talked -- not to us, but to its companion -- in the deep, hollow tones of an ancient drum.

Priya, an intern at VINS, stopped to show us the Red Eastern Screech Owl perched on her glove. It was as small as a newborn kitten, weighing no more than six ounces. This one had been hit by a car and lost completely the use of one of its big, yellow eyes. We three humans stood in front of the Snowy's enclosure while Priya talked to us about the birds. The bitty red owl timed its monocular blink, taciturn compared to the gabby Snowy Owl, and much tinier in size. In the wild, the Snowy will make a regular meal of a Screech because they keep similar hours.

Eastern Screech Owl, red morph

The Snowy said to Dave, "I love your beard. It is white like me."
The Snowy said to me, "I am your first Snowy. Stay and talk a while."
The Snowy said to Priya, "Hi Priya! Hi Priya! Hi Priya! You can put the little Screech Owl in my pen. I will take care of it quicker than you can say 'Vermont Institute of Natural Science'!"

Crow Communication and Short Eared Owl

2012-01-28T13:39:00.000-08:00

Hi, Honey! Are you chin-deep in snow? It's coming down steady here today and very few people are out. There is a sheet of ice under this new snow so people are smart to stay inside.
There could be Snowy Owls all over the place out there for all we can see.

The video clip I sent you of the “sledding crow” was part of an article I read in Atlantic magazine online. The author contacted an ornithologist to ask what we should think of it and the ornithologist said we shouldn't think anything, that we can't know what's in the bird's mind and we shouldn't ascribe human feelings to it. But it seems so obvious that the crow is just having fun, doesn’t it.

You know how I have always put out peanuts for the crows and jays. There is one crow who seems to be the patriarch of the clan. I think he’s the same one I told you about before extracting a moldy piece of bread from his cache in the mossy bank. He’s big and handsome and, less fearful than the others, he sometimes perches on the deck railing while I fill the peanut cup. As long as I ignore him he will stand there but if I look at him, he gets nervous and flies away.
Then last week as I walked out to the street where I’d parked, he called just over my head and then landed on the pavement a few feet away with two peanuts in his beak. He laid the peanuts down and looked at me expectantly. It was one of those odd moments when time seems to stop. What did he want? What should I do?
Then a neighbor dashed out of her house and hurried to her car, breaking the moment. Amid the activity, the crow reclaimed the peanuts and flew away. But I was sure he had tried to communicate with me, using the medium that in his experience has always been our point of connection, food. What else could it have meant?

So, how was your ocean trip? Did you see any new birds?
Love,
Mom

Short Eared Owl, Theler marsh/wetlands on Hood Canal

Hi Mom!
On long ocean walks, sometimes three times a day, I delighted in watching Snowy Plovers. They are small and elegant, and they forage in herds across the cold wet sand; they step, step, step, then peck, peck, peck – reminds me very much of a two-step country western dance – performed in the bitter cold of January.

We saw a Short Eared Owl at Theler Wetlands Reserve. Its face is like a monkey's, and its flight like a hawk's.

I think you are right about the crow communication. It is interesting that inter-species interaction is important to the crows.
Our crows land on the telephone wire that spans the backyard and watch for me in the kitchen. They know I will slide the window open and toss them a treat. I try to give them something healthy, but sometimes I sneak them a cookie. Cheddar cheese is their favorite. It drives Tess (dog) bananas.

I hope we see a Snowy Owl when you come up in February.
Love, Ally

Snowy Plover on Copalis Beach, WA coast

A New Winter

2011-12-19T13:12:00.000-08:00

Christmas ornament, 2011

(To Mom)
Hey!
All's well.
Super busy at work.
Nice and quiet at home.
Cash just loves her car. She named it Franco.
How are you?

(To Ally)
I'm fine, enjoying the image of Cashel driving around in her only slightly battered Volvo which the name Franco seems to fit. It’s a good picture.
Before I forget though, I want to tell you about some bird sightings.
Remember I took that class on identifying trees? We were tramping around in the Discovery Park forest for more than two hours and I didn't see a single live bird. Of course I wasn't looking for birds and was concentrating on the trees, but still it was strange. What I did see was two dead ones. An assistant to the teacher had brought along a collection of dead birds, all dried out and packed in plastic bags. She showed us a tiny warbler corpse cupped in the palm of her hand in conjunction with our examination of the small Alder cones where warblers find seeds and insects to eat. The teacher knocked one bunch of cones into his palm and an almost microscopic beetle staggered away from the bits of debris left there. The assistant let us use a magnifying glass to see it.
Later along the walk she brought out a desiccated Red-breasted Sap Sucker for us to look at near a spruce tree where Sap Suckers had drilled lines of holes about a quarter-inch in diameter. The holes were in the trunk up higher than our heads, but even so I was surprised not to have seen them before. They were in perfectly straight horizontal lines, six or eight in each set. (The leader said that Sap Suckers sometimes drill the holes in vertical lines, too.) From each hole there was a drizzle of sap. The birds would come back to eat the sap along with the insects trapped in it.
What specialized ability, do you suppose, makes it possible to eat sticky sap? Once I gave a crow a piece of my peanut butter sandwich and then watched him have a pretty hard time trying to eat even that level of stickiness.
I also have had a close encounter with a Sharp-shinned Hawk, but I don't have time to tell you about that now. Later.
Love,
Mom

That's so cool, Mom! What an interesting perspective on birding, seeing the bird quotient through the eyes of people who know trees.
I finally saw the Pileated Woodpecker on a forest hike this weekend. I was surprised by how big it is. It is strange looking, and its drilling of the trees is more hollow and sonorous than the drilling of the Northern Flicker and the Downy Woodpecker. The Pileated Woodpecker's sound is like that of a bassoon in an empty upstairs bedroom, or a fog horn very far away.

Pileated Woodpecker on a Douglas Fir tree
Fragrance Lake trail in the North Cascades

(To Ally)
That would be a haunting thing to hear. The Pileated Woodpecker I saw was working its way around a telephone pole and not drilling at all. I will listen for that sound in the forest from now on.
Have you ever seen a Red-breasted Sap Sucker? It’s in the woodpecker family, too. The dead one I saw was about the size of a small robin and had pretty, colorful feathers of red, yellow, gray, white and black.

Young Sharp-shinned Hawk

My Hawk experience was startling. I was standing near the railing of our deck about to toss a handful of crumbs to the noisy House Sparrows in the large bush just below me, and then to fill the feeder cup with peanuts for the Jays who were also fluttering and calling in the tree nearby. Suddenly out of the sky a hawk dove toward the bush and just before striking whatever hapless Sparrow it had picked out there, it locked eyes with me and swerved away and out of sight. I realized then how completely quiet and still the birds had become. It was as if they weren’t there anymore. The Jays stood frozen to the bare tree branches and the Sparrows had made themselves invisible in the bush.

I had been so close and had seen the hawk so clearly that it was easy to identify it in my bird guide – a young Sharp-shinned Hawk.

Family Birds, And Those With Constant Comment

2011-10-10T09:39:00.000-07:00

Gadwalls at the Montlake Fill

Dear Ally,

It’s reassuring to know you are determined not to leave me stranded in a clump of skunk cabbage or let me get swept up in a southern migration while we’re out birding. You are a good, sweet daughter and I’ll be careful not to lose you either. The greatest danger in our last outing, though, was being trampled by the hordes of Husky fans taking a shortcut across the Fill to the football game. What an odd opposition of intense human interests it was out there that day. Bird watchers in rumpled khaki and football fans all in purple spandex jostling for space on the trail. With so much activity, it’s a wonder we saw any birds at all.

But wasn’t it a pleasure to gaze at the Gadwall pair floating serenely among the lily pads.

Maybe it’s to their advantage to be so plainly colored and of such an average size and shape. They don’t draw a lot of attention that way.

My favorite sighting that day was the Green Heron, though it’s anything but pretty with that hunkering posture and lumpish body. From what you say, it must be like the embarrassing uncle of the Heron family.

(To Mom)

Ha! Uncle Heron would be the permanent bachelor type. But I bet he would give good gifts.

I saw the Kestrel on the running trails yesterday. This is about the same time last year I would see the Kestrel, which must mean it is feasting on the last of the crickets that are abundant in the fields there.

There is a stray orange cat I've been trying to coax into my arms. Right now it is surviving pretty well on the crickets and field mice, but those sources will become very scarce soon. "Cricket's Field" is where we found Wiley's cat, Cricket. I even brought Wiley with me one time, because I knew he would be able to convince the orange cat, but we couldn't find it that evening.

I made black bean burritos using the left-over potato wedges from the Sunlight Vegetarian Cafe. I added carrots, corn, and sautéed onion, then tossed fresh green pepper on top. Dave adds cheddar and Fritos to his.

(To Ally)

You always make leftovers sound so good. Pio was disappointed that I got up before he did the next morning and ate the remaining half of the sesame waffle for breakfast. That was the most substantial waffle I’ve ever encountered.

Have you seen the orange cat again? It’s so distressing to see any stray dog or cat. Poor thing.

I’m reading a book about a stray European Starling that was saved by a soft-hearted person like you and like Wiley. The book is Arnie the Darling Starling, and it’s a true story. I read about it first in the very entertaining book, Enslaved by Ducks, that you gave me for my birthday. There I learned to my surprise that starlings can be taught to speak if they are adopted by humans when they are babies. In the book Arnie not only repeats English words but really seems to use them appropriately often enough to make you think he understands them, too.

(To Mom)

I've not seen the orange cat again, even though I've looked assiduously for it, which makes me think it was adopted. That is what Wiley thinks too.

Arnie the talking Starling is fascinating. Although, I hope Arnie's housemate doesn't regret teaching the critter to voice its comments... I wonder if Arnie asks tough questions, like kids do. "How can Santa fit down the chimney?" or "Why doesn't Uncle Stew love Aunt Marie anymore?" or "Should you really be eating that ice cream?".

(To Ally)

Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought of that. Our lives could become even more complicated if our pets could ask questions.

Gwyneth Paltrow And The Green Heron

2011-09-20T14:49:00.000-07:00

September 9 dawned cool and brilliant, like Gwyneth Paltrow. Like Steve McQueen. I drove my little truck down to Seattle to meet Mom at The Fill. The Audubon tour guide was listed as “Fran Wood”, so I expected a lady birder. Not so at all. Fran is a man. We hapless birders battled legions of people-in-purple surging like spawning salmon toward Husky Stadium for a football game. I love how those birders who have chosen this walk on this day quietly pilgrimage to the meeting point – the East Parking Lot at the Union Bay Horticultural Center – and become a group. We’ve had our breakfast at our homes, packed our bins and bird books, laced our boots and donned hats: and there we are, together!
Fran, a tall white-bearded fellow in dark shades, took us through the litany of what he considers the best birding books for our area. He discerned which of the books had the best maps. Each book he pulled from a canvas bag in the recess of his car trunk. It was a big bag. Even we birders, who are very patient, began to wonder if Mr. Wood planned to set foot on the trails. Mrs. Wood waited in the driver’s seat of the car, one elegant hand on the wheel. When Fran completed his book talk, and returned each volume to the canvas bag, he patted the passenger window, like one would a horse, and Mrs. Wood drove the bag of books away.

We entered The Fill. A group of glossy Crows picking methodically at the field of dry grass watched us pass; the Crows think we are dumb. There are no bugs on the path – the bugs are in the grass field. The Crows are cool thugs; like gang members, they have numbers on their side.

Field notes from Ally's rainproof notebook.

Two Anna’s Hummingbirds flitted and whirred in the flowered bushes near the path. The Anna’s are tiny compared to the Crows. They are Fairy Warriors that feed on nectar.

As we continued on the path, Mom said quietly to me, “When we start out I always think we may not see a single bird!”
Our very first official bird outing was to the Skagit Bald Eagle Festival at which we viewed only the injured Raptors enrolled at the Ferndale Raptor Center. It was more like going to a zoo than birding! Too funny. We had delicious Mexican food for lunch that day. It was our beginning.

Fran Wood set up his scope so that we could see the flock of Goldfinches perched on the outer sunlit edges of a shrub. They were the flashes on the fanned tips of flame. The Finches were not as gold, however – they are heading into winter plumage. Mom said they were rather handsome in their darker suits.

We watched a complacent group of Northern Shovelers forage peacefully in the lily pads at The Cove. Mr. Wood explained that Shovelers build their nests on top of lily pads. They jam the pads closer together, then gather nesting material and pile it onto their Shoveler-made island. I’m sure their shovel-shaped beaks are the perfect tool for this type of nest construction.
Mom and I think that would be a pretty damp type of nest, though. Not dry and high like the Osprey’s.

A pair of Gadwalls floated laconically with the lily pads – a first for me and Mom. The Gadwalls look drab from afar, but are beautiful up close (with binoculars). The male’s wing patterns are like the intricate black stitched patterns of zig-zag South African cloth. It is not known where the Gadwall’s name originated, but has been in recorded use since 1666. In the bird books the Gadwall's appearance is described with ingenious variations of the adjective "drab". It seems odd to me, that this most drab of all ducks has a name with no authenticated origination. I've noticed in the world of birding that great interest and significance is given to the history of the naming of each avian type -- so why, then, is this the only bird no one knows where its name came from? Seems suspicious, hiding behind its drabness.

Green Heron

At The Cove we saw the Green Heron, a smaller heron with not near the neck of the Great Blue. This fellow hunched on the outmost branch of a sunken snag. Later I looked back and saw the Green Heron in the water, glaring at little flits of movement below the lily pad surface. Our bird book at the beach place says when the Green Heron takes off it first makes a "kyow!" sound, defecates, then launches. It is intolerant of other birds, so feeds alone. I can see why.

On the same sunken snag we spotted a Belted Kingfisher! After the Green Heron left, of course. Later, walking along the Loop Trail near the Main Pond, Mom and I heard the Kingfisher. The call is familiar to me because of the Kingfisher I see nearly every day on the running trails in Bellingham. It’s call, in flight, is like the clatter sound of rapidly opened Venetian blinds. Clatter clatter clatter!

When you walk with a group of birders, the pairings change as we move. Some might stop to look, while others of the group walk quietly on. It reminds me of grocery shopping with Dave, where one of us might bolt ahead to get the cereal, while the other runs into an old neighbor, then we meet again in the frozen vegetable isle.
Near the end of our Sept. 9 walk at The Fill, I came to find myself walking with Fran Wood at the front of the line. We’d lost a portion of our original members, those that got hungry and slipped away to find lunch.
Struggling to think of something to say to Mr. Wood, I asked him about his name. “Short for Frances,” he said, with a resigned bit of smile deep in his beard.
“My name is Alexandria, but everyone calls me Al,” I said.
“Why did you drive down from Bellingham?” he asked.
“My mom and I are bird artists,” I said. “We meet at lots of different places to bird.”
“Well, where’s your mother!?” Fran Wood blustered, as if I’d misplaced her on the long drive down.
“She’s right here,” I assured him, showing him Mom right behind us.
“Oh good,” he said.

We were very hungry! That was a long walk.
Lunch was at the Sunlight Vegetarian Café near 65th and Ravena Ave. Actually, it was brunch. Learning to bird with brunch. They don’t serve lunch until 2:00 PM.
The coffee was excellent.
Mom had the Sesame Crunch Waffle, which was as substantial as a slab of tundra, but most delicious. It came with fresh fruit and a silver pitcher of Vermont maple syrup.
I had the Vegan Highlander, seasoned, sauteed organic tofu & tempeh, onions, green peppers & red pepper sauce, served on a bed of fresh spinach- with home fries & half of an organic 7-grain english muffin. It was fabulous.

I think we should all keep a close eye on those Gadwalls.

P.S. Mothers are valuable. Don't lose them on long drives or birdwalks.

Ptarmigan on Cougar Divide

2011-09-13T09:03:00.000-07:00

Sept. 3, 2011 In The North Cascade Mountain Range

Hi Mom,

Dave and I hiked the Cougar Divide trail on Saturday. I've never been anywhere like it.
We didn't see any other humans for the first five hours of the hike. The majority of the hike is along a ridge at 6,000 feet above sea level; there are 360 views, that sometimes make you sick at your stomach. No buildings, people, cars or planes in sight. It gives me hope for the world. There are still places of true wilderness out there!
We were hyper-aware for any signs of cougar or bear, so were startled when a creature thrashed just a few feet from us in the alpine meadow heather. It was a Rock Ptarmigan mom. Her young chick flapped away and hid in the wildflowers, but the hen stayed put. She stared at us, waiting, I think, to see which direction we would move. Or maybe she was trying to blend in with the heathers and grasses. Her browns and blacks were so gorgeous, the color of tree bark, chocolate and onyx. We stood completely still, so she finally "swam" -- moved low and slow on foot, not flight -- until she disappeared into the heather.

We also saw marmots and Mountain Chickadees, but thankfully no cougar or bear.

The sound of the honey bees working the swathes of mountain wildflowers was deafening at times.

The wildfires in Texas are terrible. I wonder how it is affecting migrating birds.
love, Alex

Steller's Peanut Song

2011-08-29T12:29:00.000-07:00

Hi, Ally
I was just thinking about our trip to the Theler Wetlands and realized you never told me what the Killdeer's dance was like. Remember I was peering in the other direction and missed it. What exactly happened?

(To Mom)
It was so interesting to me because, in all the years of watching Killdeer at our family beach, I've never witnessed the dance. The male bowed its handsome head low to the tidal mud and raised its spread wing tips like the coattails of a tuxedo. It was a choreographed and dramatic movement, like when Batman snaps out his cape to its full expanse, then dives off the top of a skyscraper. Snap! Whoosh! I think I would be impressed if I were a girl Killdeer.
I just loved watching the Barn Swallows swoop and sew their invisible stitches in the sunlit air above the blue and straw-colored sea grass. That thick tidal mud is alive.
How in the heck did the Fox Sparrow know exactly where the fat worm was in the mud?

(To Ally)
The Fox Sparrow must have been waiting in the shadows of the reeds, watching for any small pulse in the mud, something promising enough to pull it dashing out of cover for a moment. It makes us realize that there were most likely many birds just out of sight that day, hidden by foliage or colored so exactly like it that, as long as they were still, we had no chance of seeing them. If we carried hunting guns instead of binoculars, we would shake the shrubs or kick the grass to stir them into sight, but we won’t do that.

Something new is happening this summer with the Steller’s Jays. In years past one alone would peer into the living room window and squawk a request for peanuts. But this year there are several that come every morning, a family I think. They will do some squawking but what really surprised us was the song one of them sings. I’m guessing it is a male, because his wing bars are very black, and also because he is brave enough to sit on the deck railing near the screen door and when he catches sight of Pio or me, he starts to sing a quiet song of great variation in sounds – whistles, trills, soft rattles and clacks. It’s really beautiful and he seems to know we can’t resist it. Did you know Jays could sing like that? I hope he will do it sometime when you are here.

That's so cool, Mom: the Steller's Jay's peanut song!
I find it hard to imagine, though. Right now the filbert nut trees in our yard are the scene of a vicious and raucous war between the squirrels and the Steller's Jays. Both factions are collecting the nuts for their winter stores, and the competition is constant. They make so much noise -- both the Jays and the squirrels -- that it rattles my nerves. I got so sick of it yesterday I flung a rubber band ball at them. It just made them more mad and noisy. When I threw the rubber band ball, Cricket turned to look at me in utter surprise. She seemed to think I had broken the rules of engagement. She watches the war between the squirrels and Jays with great interest.

The rubber band ball is still sitting in the grass below the filbert trees, reproaching me. I suppose I should put it back in the desk drawer. But I am kind of scared of the squirrels now...

Wetlands and Rice

2011-08-05T16:50:00.000-07:00

The Theler Wetlands, at the south end of Hood Canal, spreads across 71 square acres of merging saltwater tides and freshwater forests. Ally and I explored boardwalks along the edge of the sunny marsh and looped in and out of the shady, cool forest where massive old stumps left by early lumbering had sprouted second generation cedars that soared a hundred feet high above us. It was a wonderful place to look for birds.

Ally pointed out a pair of Killdeer feeding at the edge of a marsh-water inlet and I was surprised to see they were smaller than I expected. Drawings, photographs and even video just don’t serve as well as an actual sighting to understand the size of a bird. They were pretty far away from us but with my binoculars I could clearly see the red circle around each large black eye.

There were Barn Swallows snagging insects in the air over our heads and one large Northern Shoveler duck paddled by below the boardwalk. But we didn’t see many birds this outing. One shy young Northern Flicker gave Ally the certainty that owls were nearby, but we had no luck finding any. A Fox Sparrow darted from reedy cover to snatch a worm from the mud and then raced back out of sight. A Cedar Waxwing paused briefly on top of a wooden post. And we peered in consternation at an unknown gray sort of bird that seemed to lack any distinctive markings that could help us identify it.

Fox Sparrow in deep tidal mud.

We did happen upon a Mallard family, the mother and three juveniles grown almost to her size. She was busy swimming around a swampy pool looking for food while one young duck froze in the grass on the bank and the two others stayed still in the water nearby watching us warily.

It was a long walk we took so we were eager to eat when we headed back to the car. Ally had good things to say about a taco wagon up the highway but when we got there we found no shady place to sit down. So we continued into the small town of Belfair where we found the Chinese restaurant that every American town seems to have. The food always tastes the same, and even every dish seems to taste like every other dish, but it’s rarely bad and always has what Ally’s stricter vegetarianism requires.

We were the only customers, which was a little disconcerting, but it was cool inside and we could spread our books and notes on the table while we waited for our lunch. There was the usual gold and red décor with the always festive Christmas tree lights strung around the edges of the ceiling, but there was also a collection of incongruous artwork that covered the walls, and that is what made the place memorable. Besides the usual antique Asian landscapes, and a framed note from Bill Clinton offered for sale at $25, there were several large amateurish acrylics which included a tortured mountain terrain in purples and blues, a portrait of a bland-faced man in a tan three-piece suit, and a passionate anti-war statement in violent reds and blacks, with an oddly anatomical-looking tank cannon and, dominating the space, the word Peace angrily cut off, leaving only Pea.

We were happy among these unexpected entertainments and even enjoyed the carefully unalarming predictions we pulled from our fortune cookies.

Cedar Waxwings, Killdeer and Song Sparrows

2011-07-11T15:14:00.000-07:00

Hi Mom,
I keep looking at your sketch of the Cedar Waxwing. A beautiful bird. I've not yet seen one here on our coast, even though I've looked where I should. What was the Waxwing pair doing when you saw them?

Killdeer feigning injury near the train tracks.

For the past several weeks, from here in my office on the waterfront, I've been hearing the piercing keen of the Killdeer luring predators away from their nest. I step outside of the office and see that the Killdeer are performing their "injured bird" act right across the busy street near the trains. The Killdeers must have a nest right there in the rocks around the railroad tracks. I just don't think I would choose that spot!

(To Ally)
The Waxwings were just staring back at me, thinking maybe that I was the creature who was strange – knocking an egg sort of thing around the ground with a limb sort of thing – an activity that seemed to have no relation to the real imperatives of survival or reproduction.

You must cringe every time you see those Killdeer parents dragging themselves into harms way. That’s how I feel about the birds that nest in the brambles between the lanes of our split-level street. Eventually this summer the city brush clearing machine will arrive to cut everything down to the ground again. I just cross my fingers that the new generation has had a chance to fledge before the destruction.

It’s Song Sparrows that nest in those blackberry tangles. What a plucky little bird. Small and ordinary-looking but with a bugle voice that cuts through the air as clear and sharp as crystal. Remember it’s the one that gives two or three short tones and then its own distinctive elaborate variation, an individual musical phrase that sets it apart from all the other Song Sparrows in hearing distance. Sibley says it is the most common sparrow in North America, though House Sparrows with their earthy, self-assured chirrups seem to be around more because Song Sparrows usually stay hidden in the underbrush. I’m lucky; there is one that flies up to perch in the open near our deck every summer afternoon and belts out that wonderful sound, its whole little body puffed and trembling with the effort.

Intelligent Design

2011-06-29T14:58:00.000-07:00

Ally, I’ve finally caught up with you in sighting Cedar Waxwings, caught up with you and everyone else in Seattle it seems. You saw them on the east coast and friends here have mentioned them several times, flocking in huge numbers, apparently always somewhere I wasn’t. But yesterday while waiting for Raven to line up her putt at the miniature golf course in the Interbay, I saw a pair of them perched in a small tree very nearby and had the luxury of that close examination for several minutes, with my mouth hanging open in surprise, I’m sure. The Cedar Waxwing is the strangest small bird I’ve ever seen.

In the first place, it was a surprise that it was so small. From the pictures I’d seen, it always seemed Cedar Waxwings would be closer to the size of robins, without the nervous timidity of small birds, staring instead through their black masks like comic book super heroes, not afraid of anything.

In fact the birds I saw hardly looked like birds at all. They looked like they’d been created by a sports car designer, so sleek and unruffled, with a brushed-metal exterior, and capped with a speedster’s helmet, an aerodynamic fin for better control around the track.

And then, most bizarre of all, the extended spines of their mid-wing feathers had been done up with a bright red manicure, and the ends of their short tail feathers had been dipped in vivid yellow paint like an artist’s brush. All in all, a Cedar Waxwing is an unexpected combination of odd elements.

The Beauty of A Nest

2011-05-19T15:17:00.000-07:00

May 14, 2011

Mom and I pulled into the parking lot at the Discovery Park Visitors Center and there were already winter-clad birders positioned at two scopes. They greeted us as we joined, and the tour leader, Henry, said they were looking at an Olive-sided Flycatcher perched at the top of an evergreen. The Flycatcher fellow remained perched for quite a while – I imagine it was scanning the sky for breakfast, but we don’t have an abundance of flying insects right now because we’ve had such a cold spring.

We caught tantalizing glimpses of an Orange-crowned Warbler, but no luck in getting a real good look at it through binoculars. Helen, in warm blue plaid, guided us to identify the bird by its song, a rolling rattle like an orange rolling off the table. Henry explained that it was during the 19th century that scientists set to the naming of all birds, and the only means by which they could do this was by identification of a dead bird’s “skin”. Bird catchers made a livelihood of capturing and killing birds and selling their skins to the namers. Henry said the orange cap of the so-named warbler is easy to see on the “skin”, but that as birders – even with good binoculars – we are unlikely to ever spot the orange mark. I’m so glad Mom and I don’t have to draw from dead birds’ skins!

We watched Dark-eyed Juncos foraging like frenzied Labor Day sale shoppers. Helen explained that Juncos practice “vertical migration”. They leave for the foothills when the weather is nice, then come back to Seattle and other lowlands when the snowline creeps down upon the foothills.

Mom says the Juncos look like friendly executioners with their dark hoods.

A Brown Creeper worked its way up the trunk of a Douglas Fir tree, wending and blending perfectly with the tree bark. A Creeper builds its nest under a loose shingle of bark. A bark cave, or bark “car port” for baby Creepers.

Also spotted: Wilson’s Warblers, Yellow Warbler, Hutton’s Vireo, and a strong showing of Anna’s Hummingbirds.

Helen identified a pretty little plant called Miner’s Lettuce, and Henry ate some! Mom and I started thinking about lunch…

A fellow birder made the miraculous discovery of a Bushtit communal nest. We all backed away immediately, hushing each other and reaching out carefully to each other so no one would trip in our silent haste to be unobtrusive. Elizabeth set up the scope and we took turns – over and over – viewing the beauty. It was a very strong, sock-like structure that hangs from branches and is virtually invisible. One of the last birds we met was a Goldfinch perched high on a telephone wire. Mom said, “He looks brand new.”
“He is shiny,” I agreed.
A curmudgeon Crow chased the glossy, gold paramour away.

Lunch was at the Homegrown Sandwich Shop on Queen Anne Hill. Mom and I both had the Hummus & Roasted Red Peppers on a fresh baked wheat ciabatta roll. The arugula and avocado on our sandwiches had to suffice for Henry’s miner’s lettuce plucked on the trail under the towering trees in a quiet birders’ corner of a bustling metropolis.

HumBirders And A Merlin From Above

2011-05-13T15:23:00.000-07:00

Spring 2011

Hi, Ally. It's so good to hear how well your knee has healed and that you are running again every day. You would be especially unhappy if you were unable to get out and enjoy the return of spring, even as wet as it has been so far. The birds don't let the weather interfere with any of their spring business, but it can't be easy to knit together a substantial nest in the wind and rain. With a group of birders in the park this weekend I watched an Anna's Hummingbird return to her tiny offspring, feed them and then settle on the nest to warm them, I guess, or to rest. She stayed there eyeing us suspiciously while we stood staring through our binoculars. Looking away for even an instant made it very hard to find her again; she was hidden so well in plain sight. The nest was exquisite, a small cup fastened to the forking branches of a young tree, at eye level to us. It was neatly tiled all around with bits of silvery-green lichen and appeared both delicate and strong.

Our neighboring crows have built a nest near the top of an evergreen across the street and I watched them collect the sticks and dry grass to construct it. They were extremely selective, though I couldn’t perceive any differences between the twigs they picked at and then discarded and the twigs they chose to carry to the nest site. All looked equally unwieldy, but somehow they managed to weave the pieces together into a functional shelter for their young. I know it is all instinct with eons of inbred ability, but it’s still amazing. I could never have built a nest strong enough to safely hold you and your brothers and sisters.

(To Mom)
I love hearing your description of the Anna's Hummingbird and her nest. Lovely and amazing. This weekend I decided to make a print block of the Anna's Hummingbird for our mother's day cards, but you will have to wait until mother's day to see it!

Wiley has nearly finished construction of his tree house twenty-five feet up in our biggest poplar tree. He's been working so hard on it -- it is his nest. I was standing up there, looking out over the neighborhood, when a Merlin Falcon glided below me. I've never seen a falcon from above, and had a lot of trouble finding positive identification photos to confirm what I saw! I didn't have my binoculars, of course, but was sure it was a small falcon. The Kestrel has a red back if viewed from above, so I can ascertain it was the Merlin. It didn't see me.

(To Ally)
You must be one of the few people who have seen a Merlin from above. Mostly other birds from their nests have, and now you and Wiley from his. What does Cricket think of the tree house?

(To Mom)
Cricket is driving me crazy! She insists on being in the tree house when Wiley is up there. She scales the tree to get up, but cats can't scale down. So I am building Cricket her very own set of winding step-platforms up to the fort where Wiley had to cut a special cat entrance. We're going to all this trouble because we have to! There is no way to keep her out of the tree house, and I'm afraid she will tumble to her death trying to get down.

This weekend I built a vine trellis in the garden, and of course Cricket thinks it is a climbing structure built for her use solely. She was no help in the building process.

Austin Birds and Ally After the Fall

2011-03-25T16:24:00.000-07:00

Dear Ally,

With your knee injury, the passing of two family patriarchs, and our separate travels, it's been weeks since we've been able to do any bird watching together and I've missed it. There hasn't even been time for me to tell you which new birds I saw in Austin when I was there.
The window of the room where I slept looked out into the branches of a live oak tree and one morning I identified several Tufted Titmice and Carolina Chickadees picking busily among the bare limbs until an angry Blue Jay bullied in with loud alarms and insults, scattering the smaller birds. The Jay perched there in the live oak squawking bitter complaints for half and hour or so, making sure no other sorts of birds would come into what he clearly considered his territory.

Then I saw some birds new to me on a walk along the river. Neotropic Cormorants slumped in the trees looking dissolute like you noticed, and Canvasback Ducks bobbed in the water, and finally a Northern Cardinal flashed by, showing red and silvery-gray feathers like the gorgeous bird on the front cover of last month's Audubon Magazine.

(To Mom)
How about we do a bird outing where we are primarily sitting? We've talked about doing that before, and now (with my knee injury) seems the perfect time.
(To Ally)
I'll wait to hear from you on the possibility of a bird sit after your knee has been repaired.
(To Mom)
"Bird Sit" -- love it. (This is how we will do it when we're real old.)
(To Ally)
When you are "real old", I'll be a mummy. I can just imagine your dusting me off and hauling me out for a bird sit in the sunshine. Sweet.
(To Mom)
Ha! Can I call you "Mummy"?
(To Ally)
Sure. I’ll tolerate any sort of name knowing you are about to undergo knee surgery. (You used to call me Bob when you had a cold.) So… will you let me know when you are safely back at home after the surgery tomorrow?
(To Mom)
I'm home, Mom! All is well. Eating soy cheese pizza and pint after pint of apple juice. Tess is sitting very still at my side -- she knows I'm hurt. Cricket doesn't like my crutches.
Looking forward to a "Bird Sit"!
love, Ally

The Black Vultures were ever present in Texas, even in the spiffy neighborhood where Pop lives, and at Chloe's soccer game in the Austin burbs. They are rather jovial and companionable in their carrion groups. They clean up.

Texas Birds and Grub

2011-03-16T16:09:00.000-07:00

Texas Hill Country, February 2011

Texas in February is beautiful. The breeze blows just slightly cooled, about the temperature of nicely cool tap water. The sunlight is spectacular and the birds are abundant. The Neotropic Cormorants stand around in the trees like stoned teens; they are not at all alarmed by jet skis or ski boats, part of their familiar environment. The Northern Cardinals – like those I saw in Boston – are so hot red it seems they might ignite wherever they alight.

I loved watching the Mocking Bird in flight: its long, fanned tail is employed as a dramatic function in flight, and also in posturing while perched. It is a noisy, rapacious hunter that is bold and confident even around humans in their backyards.

I ate a piece of pecan pie every day for a week! Breakfast tacos in the morning, and catfish for dinner. Time moves slowly down south, like the languid, deep green current of the Gaudalupe River.

Pop and M's patio in New Braunfels, TX.

Northern Cardinal at the window bird feeder, Mockingbird in flight.

Swans Among Us and Other Rivals of the Dog's

2011-01-29T15:59:00.000-08:00

How Swans Would Watch from the Windows

Hey, Mom,

I saw two Trumpeter Swans fly slowly over me and Tess on our lunch run. They are simply gorgeous.

(To Ally)

I’m glad you have a good, sturdy dog like Tess to run with. And you are so lucky to live in a place where the most beautiful swans in the world like to winter. Did Tess notice them going over?

(To Mom)

She sure did. She has recently tuned in more to my affection for birds - probably because of my focus with the new bins - and she is terribly jealous of the birds. Because the swans were the biggest birds yet, she was most jealous of them.

(To Ally)

She's probably afraid they will move in, like Cricket the cat did.

(To Mom)

Ha! You're right.

Two Trumpeter Swans striding around the house would be a sight. Something tells me they would take over the big armchair by the front windows, Tessa's favorite look-out spot.

(To Ally)

That’s a funny image! Have you seen the spring bulb leaves that are beginning to poke up through the ground? I was surprised this morning to see them on my way down to the street to feed the crows. (When the wind blows like it is blowing today, I can't toss the bread from the deck without its landing on the cars parked below.) It seems too early for bulb leaves to nose up from the cold earth, but it is heartening to see, isn't it.

(To Mom)

I haven't noticed the bulbs. I'll have to make a point of it. Do the crows wait for you down in the street?

(To Ally)

Every morning the crows gather on the wires level with our condo and stare in until I come out on the deck, but on a morning like this I realize how windy it is and turn around and go back inside to put my coat on and then I make my way outside and down to the street level. I always wonder if they know what I'm doing when I disappear like that, but they are still waiting on the wires when I reappear and they start exclaiming and bowing to me while I toss out the bread pieces. They won't come down, though, until I turn around and start back up the stairs.

(To Mom)

Do any other birds come for the bread feast? The Crows must think it is so odd you have to put on your "wings" (your coat) and that you have a back door to your "high nest" (condo).

(To Ally)

I think they understand about the other opening to my “nest” because sometimes they are on that side of the building and greet me when I come out. At least I think it’s a greeting; it could be a complaint or demand for more bread. It’s hard to tell with Crow talk. And who knows what they think of us and our constantly changing “plumage”. I do think they are curious though. And U.W. ornithologists have proven Crows can recognize us as individuals.

Sometimes a Glaucous-winged Gull swoops in to join the Crows for breakfast, and at that point the Crows will try to gather up in their beaks as much as they can, and fly away before all the bread gets gobbled up by the intruder. The Gull looks goofy and huge compared to them and it swallows whole chunks that it struggles to get down its throat, making it look even sillier.

(To Mom)

Today when I went home to pick up Tess for our lunch run, she acted very strangely. I let her out the front door and she jogged straight into the backyard, instead of running toward the truck! I stood at the front gate calling for her. She came around the corner walking uncomfortably with her square head lowered, an apology in her eyes. I opened the door of the pick-up truck and told her to "load up". She bowed her head and used her tongue to brush three dry pieces of bagel out of her mouth and into a pitiful pile on the street. She had collected the three bits of old bagel I tossed out for the Crows this morning. I don't know how she knew they were there (I always try to be secretive when leaving food out for the Crow pair), and can't fathom how she managed to get all three bits into her mouth without leaving one or two behind.

I said, “You know the Crows are going to get those”. Tess shrugged and jumped up into the truck for her requisite piece of beef jerky, the "truck treats" that keep her on track for my tight lunch-break schedule. The bits of bagel left in the street were indeed gone when Tess and I returned. The Crows are always watching.

Bushtit on pear -- Ally's phone log doddle.

Suckling Pig Stuffed With Warblers

2011-01-09T14:21:00.000-08:00

West View from Semiahmoo

Wrapping Up The Year

Hi, Ally.
I've finished drawing the Surf Scoter and am working on the Packers Pierside Restaurant. I know you have very little time, though, with all you have to do this month, so maybe you haven’t done any drawing yet. (Believe me, retirement is worth surviving for.) I did several Scoters and the one I settled on is the least bad, it seems to me. I'll attach it.

(To Mom)
Ha! Nice sketch. I can imagine it might be difficult to make the Scoter look very fabulous -- it's rather a stubby duck. At least you were able to pull out your colorful pencils for the circus-show beak! I've almost got the Loon and Ruddy done, but have only had to use my shades of gray, black and brown because we saw them in winter plumage. Boring. The only bit that was slightly interesting to draw was the Loon's substantial head and the Ruddy's hyper-erect tail. Put these features on the same bird and I've got a Ruddy Loon! Or a Loony Rudd.

Our work "holiday ladies' luncheon" was today and I had delicious yellow curry with baked tofu, cherry tomatoes, red peppers and chunks of seared pineapple. Now I am full and sleepy.

(To Ally)
That sounds like a wonderful combination of flavors. Don’t you love to run across something new and delicious at any kind of meal out. Especially something you don’t have to feel guilty about eating, like so many December foods can make you feel. I made the mistake of dropping in at a new bakery on Queen Anne this week and bought a gingerbread man for Raven, but before I got home I’d eaten most of it myself.

Looking forward to your Loon and Ruddy Duck.

(To Mom)
You caught the gingerbread man! On Queen Anne Hill, no less.

I have a rash of brides newly engaged over Christmas -- or under the mistletoe. New families starting to form.

When we were on the Semiahmoo Spit walk and the Trumpeter Swan flew within feet of our group, I felt the urge to duck. The Swan was so big. Why do people eat turkey and duck, but not Swan?

Chip's wife, Carla, told me there is a soil named the "Semiahmoo muck". It is herbaceous organic deposits formed in depressions on glacial outwash plains. It is evident why the wetlands biologists titled it simply "Semiahmoo muck".

(To Ally)
I guess it is simpler than HODFIDOGO, but Semiahmoo itself was a new word to me and I had to look it up to learn it’s the name of the Native Americans who first inhabited the area and who still have a reservation just over the border in Canada. Semiahmoo actually means “half moon” which describes the shape of the bay there.

The book I’m reading about Cleopatra relates meals of peacock and suckling pig stuffed with warblers (!) but I’ve never heard of anyone eating a swan, come to think of it. They are protected here, I’m sure. I came across a story about a “curry chef” in England tackling one at a public pond and killing it, apparently to cook, but he was arrested for breaking an ancient law that claimed all swans as the property of the Queen. Maybe the one that flew over us was looking for her.

It was a very interesting article you sent me about flock behavior and it reminded me of the Sanderlings we watched fly by like a cloud of black and white confetti at Semiahmoo.

Sanderlings in Flight

So, you’re starting the New Year off with a new pair of binoculars! Hurray for wonderful Christmas gifts!

Hi Mom!

Rainy today, but it doesn't matter. Dave put a new battery in my truck AND the day ahead of me looks bright.

Fox Sparrow

The new binoculars are a miraculous gift; they make a difficult hobby nearly easy. I took the binoculars on the running trails at lunch and birds were jostling to position themselves in my sights. I watched a Fox Sparrow with is yellow lower mandible, which I wouldn't have been able to identify without the bins! I run by a gnarly, old cedar tree every day, but yesterday decided to stop, step under and into the room made by the tree branches: there a Pine Siskin perched and cocked its bitty head at me. Pine Siskin in a cedar.

Suckling pig stuffed with warblers! I wonder what in the world was for dessert. Chickadee compote, maybe. Bleck.

Love,
Ally

Nikon Action Binoculars

Birding the Semiahmoo Spit - December 4, 2010

2010-12-10T08:11:00.000-08:00

I left Seattle in the frigid pre-dawn darkness and headed up to Bellingham on I-5, wary of the lethal sheen on the pavement. Then as the sky lightened, the surrounding frosted world revealed itself. All leafless trees, undergrowth, grass and fields were newly made of spun sugar. It was eerie, magical, forbidding and beautiful all at once. And soon at a distance I saw a flock of Trumpeter Swans flying toward the highway where they passed over just ahead of my car, their unbelievably-long necks stretched out straight in front making spear points of their heads. They had amazingly wide wings, and compacted bulbous bodies. Trumpeters can weigh 23 pounds. How does anything that heavy and large ever think to lift itself up into the sky?

The further north I drove, the thicker the frost was. Even Ally’s neighborhood was something out of Narnia. She supplied us with hot coffee and we continued north again where, after worrisome detours we finally found the Semiahmoo Spit just in time to join a group from the North Cascades Audubon Society who were crunching over the frost down toward the rocky shore. There we faced a bay with Canada lining the opposite side and chiseled white mountains all along the horizon. Mr. Woodcock (I’m not making this up) was the leader and he definitely knew his subject. “Out there some Western Grebes, and over that way a bunch of Surf Scoters!” We scrambled with our binoculars and still could see nothing at first, just the blue gray, ripple-wave water. Gradually though we did begin to see what he was talking about. Nothing was close, but we realized the water was peppered with all kinds of waterfowl and finally we were able to get some good sightings, especially with the scopes Mr. Woodcock and others of the group set up.

There were three kinds of Scoter: the Black, the Surf and the White-winged. But the most interesting was the Surf Scoter. It was mostly black like the others but easy to pick out by the clear white oval on the back of the male’s head, and it had a thick, multi-colored bill that made it look comical, like a hand puppet.

Another one that was new to us was the unkindly-named Common Loon. It was a handsome bird in its brown and black winter coat. We could pick it out by the white throat and breast, thicker than the Grebe’s.

Common Loon, winter plumage

Also there were Brants and Buffleheads that we had never seen before, as well as Ruddy Ducks with their long, oddly-lifted tails. One of the taller members of our group had set her scope on them and we were able to get a clear view standing on our toes. From that spot also we were all astonished to see a solitary Trumpeter Swan fly low over our heads, staring down at us. I told Ally, “It’s a peopler!” and we laughed.

Ruddy Duck, winter plumage

After a couple of hours, most of the group was heading out toward the point where there was an enticing line of Cormorants sunning themselves in dramatic poses along a breakwater, but Ally and I slipped away to find a place to warm up, eat and talk about what we’d seen. It turned out that from our table at the Packers Pierside restaurant we could watch most of the same birds so close that we didn’t need our binoculars to see them. And the food was great! Ally’s Greek salad and my hazelnut veggie burger were superb. By the time we headed home, a welcome winter sun was melting the magical frost.

Packers Pierside Restaurant, Semiahmoo Resort

Sparrows, Fish, E.T. and Bamboo Socks

2010-11-08T17:07:00.000-08:00

Hi Mom,
I like the Kinglet's tactic for grabbing attention with its fiery crown. Maybe they can also frighten other birds or critters with their vivid cap flash, like those helmet lights bike commuters use. At least the field mark helps you and me identify the dear birdie!
How do you know it was a Fox Sparrow you saw on the bird walk? I thought I finally had my Sparrows figured out, but now am not sure at all.
Love,
Ally

Fox Sparrow and House Sparrow

(To Ally)
When you see a Fox Sparrow you won't have any trouble telling it from the others. It's clearly larger, for one thing, and its breast markings are very distinctive, too. Neil said we were lucky to be able to see a small group of them scratching in the dirt nearby as we stood watching; they are generally shy of people and stay hidden in the underbrush.
Thinking about Neil, and the other good bird-tour leaders we have had, I'm feeling more confident about connecting to one of the Audubon groups around here. What do you think? We still have a lot to learn, but it seems like we've picked up enough birding experience to be able to participate with some understanding.

(To Mom)
Oh yes! I think we should join Audubon! (I feel a little nervous about it, though. Are we really birders now?)
Last night I made a batch of black beans with garlic, sautéed onions, yellow squash and zucchini, stewed tomatoes, corn and carrots. I am looking forward to a bowl of beans for lunch. Sunny but cold today -- a perfect day for a hot bowl of black beans.

(To Ally)
Yum. Hot spicy black beans and veggies. Just right for a cold day.
It turns out that birders aren't the only people who have life lists. There was a story in the newspaper about a fellow who is compiling a list of butterflies he has seen. He travels all over the world to find new ones, just like birders do. I wonder if anyone has a life list of fish - a snorkeling scene in the book I just finished reading described the vivid colors and varieties in shape and size of tropical fish in a way that sounded so much like descriptions of birds. Schools of fish and flocks of birds often move as if together they have one mind. And the writer even told about the "calls" of the fish, clicks and taps that indicated different messages.

(To Mom)
I just finished a book about a man obsessed with bamboo. He traveled the globe to study and document all the varieties. The dear fellow is a Frenchman, where there isn't any bamboo! Maybe that is why he was so attracted to it.
Very interesting to think about the fish language you mention.
I've noticed each type of bird that flies as a flock has its own distinctive type of flock-flight. The Starlings flock-fly like electrical static. Ring-necked Pigeons swoop and glide when they flock-fly. Crows in flock-fly seem to DESCEND on their destination, like compact black helicopters.
On my lunch run today there was a Great Blue Heron walking in Cricket's field. Very odd. I've seen Herons fly over the field, but not land - there are too many dogs and people on those trails. The Heron walked stiffly and slowly, as if looking for its dropped wallet or a lost earring.

(To Ally)
At least bamboo would stand still for the Frenchman to watch it.
You are so right about different kinds of flocks. I've noticed that experienced birders can often identify birds by flight patterns and flock appearance, even at a distance when the birds just look like flapping black dots to me. But I like your descriptions of Starling, Pigeon, and Crow flock-flight and realize you are right about the differences. It's another "someday" for us - someday we'll be able to name more birds flocking in the sky.
The Heron sighting you had reminds me of the Cooper's Hawk we found standing on the ground next to a road in the park on my last bird walk. It was just standing there looking sharply around and then staring intently at us, but unwilling or unable to fly away. The immediate thought is that a bird acting in such an unaccustomed manner could be injured, don't you think?

Pileated Woodpecker

On that same walk I saw a Pileated Woodpecker working its way around a telephone pole. It's one of the oddest birds I've ever seen! Surprisingly large and with colors of almost unnatural brightness and contrast: black, white and red. And its narrow, sharp-billed head on a long neck made it look like something from outer space.

(To Mom)
The Frenchman retired permanently to Thailand where he can be around bamboo all the time. I have some lovely black trouser socks made of bamboo. They are more comfortable than they sound, and wonderfully durable. When I am in a stuffy meeting at work I'm quite pleased with the secret that I am wearing bamboo socks.
I got to worrying about that Heron in Cricket's field. Upon further research, though, it turns out Herons hunt and eat rodents! Frogs too. I'll bet the Heron was hunting for a plump field mouse, not looking for a lost earring.

(To Ally)

I didn't know that about Herons either.

And as for your socks, don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

Birding Teachers and New Sightings

2010-10-07T16:11:00.000-07:00

Vaux's Swifts

Dear Ally,
Saturday morning I went on a guided bird walk at Discovery Park like I have several times in the past and I was struck again by how generous birders are, freely sharing their experience and knowledge, eager to help anyone who is new to the interest. Anne, a Metro Park employee, was along this time as she has been in the past, and of course it’s part of her job, but she does it with a spirit of camaraderie with those of us who are seeing particular birds for the first time. Sometimes she sees a bird for the first time herself and is pleased to say so. I was especially heartened this time to hear her say that when she first started bird watching, she was with a group of experienced birders who could look at a tree and start naming off all the birds they could see there but she couldn’t see anything at all. We can identify with that, can’t we.
Neil, the leader of this walk and a carpenter by trade, admitted to thirty-five years of birding experience, and his range of knowledge was proof of it. There were only three of us novices in the group but our bombardment of questions could have exhausted a less good-natured educator. He was the kind of teacher who encourages questions and treats each one as a valuable query. I realized as we were going along that every bird-walk leader I’ve accompanied has shown this quality of patience and shared pleasure in learning about birds.

Hi Mom!
I have that same impression of birders. Birding gives me hope for humanity, the one bright light I turn to after reading the dirge of daily news.
What birds did you see?!
Love, Ally

Evening Grosbeak

(To Ally)
Right away we were able to watch some Evening Grosbeaks sunning themselves in the tops of the trees around the Nature Center parking lot. From the discussion about them I learned something I hadn’t realized before: instead of migrating from north to south at this time of year, some birds are migrating down from the mountains to the lowlands around the Sound. That’s what the Evening Grosbeaks have done, after nesting in the foothills of Eastern Washington. And they’re not even really Grosbeaks; they are in the finch family, but do have some hefty-looking beaks.
We watched an Anna’s Hummingbird fly straight up into the sky and then turn and drop straight down, squeaking just as it pulled up before hitting the ground. It was the same scene I’d watched on a PBS program about Hummingbirds, and from it I’d learned the squeak isn’t a vocalization, it’s a noise made by wind passing through its spread, braking tail feathers. The whole dance repeated over and over is meant to attract a mate.
Then I saw my first Ruby-crowned Kinglet. To everyone’s delight and surprise, it was bathing in the dew collected on blackberry leaves near the trail. Neil said we can pick out the Ruby-crowned Kinglet by the constant twitching of its wings and tail.

And now I can count off the Fox Sparrow. There was a group of them scratching in the soil and leaves. They seemed larger than other sparrows, and had darker backs and clearly checked breasts.
We watched some Vaux’s Swifts, too, swinging through the air after insects. Neil said they never alight in trees like other birds because they have only forward-facing talons which they use to hang on the rough inside walls of enclosures like chimneys where they gather to rest and nest.
That’s just a few of the birds we saw. It was a beautiful day and many birds were out.

Hey Mom,
It's so overcast here today it looks like nighttime outside my office. Rained all night. Only a couple of birds chirped drearily as Tess and I were waking up. There was no sunrise.
I think it's so interesting how the experts will later change a family classification of a bird, like the Evening Grosbeak. And I love that they are not migrating to the south -- staying with us instead! But maybe that's bad. I'm not sure.
Your Ruby-crowned Kinglet story is amazing. What lovely luck. Remember Mr. Nightingale identified for us the Golden-crowned Kinglet on our Edmonds Birdfest walk. We'll have to draw the two birds side-by-side for comparison.
Is it dark and cloudy in Seattle?
It's like Transylvania out there!

Golden Crowned Kinglet

Ruby Crowned Kinglet

(To Ally)
It is dark and cloudy in Seattle today, and I agree there is an ominous feeling to the air, as if we're all waiting for some bad news.
Kinglets are such tiny birds; no wonder they are hard to see. On our bird walk, Anne caught sight of a Golden-crowned Kinglet flashing its head feathers but I missed it. Wouldn't it be great to have a bunch of colorful head feathers to stick up whenever you needed to get someone's attention or make a really important point?

A Day of Ducks With Nightingale

2010-09-16T15:10:00.000-07:00

Cinnamon Teal Ducks

It was a cool, rainy day when Mom and I met at the Edmonds Birdfest. I had left relentless rain in the Bellingham foothills and continued south with heavy cloud cover, but less downpour. It was difficult to find the Pine Ridge Park nestled in the folds of suburbia on the waterfront in Edmonds, WA. Several birders that joined us on the Audubon tour were residents of Edmonds who didn't even know the little park existed.

Our tour leader was a Mr. Nightingale! Our group ambled into the woods, quietly, as birders do. Nightingale pointed up. Forty feet up at the level of the tree tops a flock of birds flitted like bugs pinging and popping on the surface of water. This was not a sighting we could confirm with binoculars -- Nightingale had us listen. "They are Golden-Crowned Kinglets", he said. "A bird you hear often in Puget Sound woods that is difficult to get a good sighting of." Their song was very familiar to me, a music I've heard for years on mountain trails and waking up in a tent in the woods. Now I know who I am hearing!

We stopped at a small pond. Mallards came right up to us on the shore, too young to be cautious or wary. Nightingale helped us identify a Northern Shoveler, its beak a wide scoop that ends -- seemingly -- in a pleasant smile. Its smile was complimented by brown eyes.
Though some of us were unsure, one fellow birder was completely confident in identifying Cinnamon Teals on the pond. He used to be a duck hunter so I think he knows ducks indeed. I asked him quietly later, "How do you transform from a duck hunter to a birder?" His reply, "For love." He and his companion wore matching "nature camouflage" shirts, not hunting camouflage -- a pretty good idea, I thought. Maybe Mom and I will get some.
The male Cinnamon Teal is the same color as Tess.

At the end of the trail Mom got a good look at a perched bird with her binoculars. She described it to the group and I sketched it in my rain-proof notebook. "You're looking at a Red Breasted Nuthatch," said Nightingale. Mom said it was lovely.

After two hours in the cold woods we were thinking only of lunch. We chose Chanterelle in downtown Edmonds. The cafe was busy, the beautiful old walls lined with interesting old photographs. Mom had the crab and avocado omelet with crispy browns and a cranberry-orange wheat muffin. She shared the muffin with me. I had the smoked salmon Benedict with a generous serving of fresh fruit. We poured over our bird guides to ascertain if Mr. Duck Hunter was correct. Of course he was. We each had a big mug of Tony's coffee, a Bellingham bean roaster.
We really didn't want to say goodbye.

Urban Birds East and West

2010-09-06T10:15:00.000-07:00

Ally, I've enjoyed reading the birding report from your trip and am delighted with all the different birds you saw in Boston and Vermont. Your Cardinal sighting makes me a little envious because I've never seen one, even though it was the name of my high school team. Are they really so red? The Cedar Waxwing has such pretty muted colors, doesn't it. I haven't seen one of those either, but my friend Jean said there are many of them in the holly trees at the Ballard Locks in the fall, so I'll be sure to get over there this year to watch them. Why are they called "waxwing"?

Did you hear that the US Post Office is putting out a new stamp in honor of the American Crow that bent a wire into a hook and used it to pull up a little basket of food that was out of reach at the bottom of a tube? So smart! Deserving of a stamp for sure. Crows have also demonstrated in the lab that they can figure out how to drop stones in a tube to raise the level of water in it so they can drink. It was one of Aesop's fables I think, but not a fable after all.

(To Mom)
Yes! The male Cardinal was as red as red. It's almost surprising to see that vivid color in nature. It brought to mind the graphic blue hue of our Puget Sound Stellar's Jay, whose color suits its flashy, noisy presence.
The Cedar Waxwing had a beautiful apricot hue to its body. I like its black eye mask. My book says the "waxwing" name comes from the colored tips of its wing and tail.
Those Crows are wily. They are also not too picky, and have adapted smartly to living in "human territory". When I was back east I read an article in the Boston Globe on how there is a resurgence of Golden Eagles nesting in the city. Due to loss of habitat the Golden has had to figure out how to hunt and raise fledglings in the heart of the city. It is a thrill to see the giant, silent creature glide over posh neighborhoods. They don't have to pay the exorbitant homeowners taxes that the creatures on the ground are forced to pay! They pluck fat fish from the city rivers instead of standing in line for lattes.

What's happening in Seattle today?

(To Ally)
A lot of us in Seattle were standing in line for lattes today, and some of us were standing in line for fat fish at the old market downtown, too. We're all so civilized, aren't we. That's why it's such a pleasure to see something like an eagle fly over, a reminder that we aren't in charge of everything.
I hear the southerly migration is gearing up. Have you seen any traveling birds on your run?

(To Mom)
I was at the creek with Tess last night and watched Canada Geese fly in formation overhead. They are so big and bulbous! Like flying seals.

I've been seeing an American Kestrel while running in Cricket's field. I believe it is feasting on the dragon flies and crickets that are in abundance this year. The Kestrel is small - I judge it to be not much bigger than the Northern Flickers that fly shyly between the trees. The Kestrel is fierce, though, and holds its own against a group of Crows in onslaught. The Crows despise the Kestrel.

Birds of Boston and Vermont

2010-08-17T09:39:00.000-07:00

The Eagles on the East Coast are "golden" instead of "bald" -- must be the humidity. Dave's sister Alice lives in Brookline, one of the oldest neighborhoods in historically rich Boston, Mass. Dave and I ran in the early morning to beat the heat. The winding streets in Brookline take us past beautiful old homes where the birds thrive in well kept yards; sidewalks are rare because the homes and walls were built right up to the street that only needed to be wide enough for a horse drawn carriage.
In the evenings we sat on Alice's patio. We sipped chilled wine and played card games. Her yard was remarkably quiet there in the middle of the pulsing city. It was from Alice's patio that I got to watch a Red Cardinal and saw a Golden Eagle soar silently far above the tree tops. Downy Woodpeckers were in busy abundance on the venerable trees.

Alice delivered seven babies on the day she picked us up from the airport, and none of them were twins.

Dave's sister Maggie lives on the first branch of the White River in Vermont. Their house is a colonial cape built in 1781. It was the first house in the town that was rebuilt after an Indian raid during the Revolutionary War -- the rebuild took precedence because it was the mill owner's home there on the river where the dam and mill also stood.

Cedar Waxwings love Maggie's dam. They flutter in and perch on upended logs. Their red wing tips and yellow tail tips gleam like jewelry in the sun reflections off the river current.

I watched one lone female Common Merganser in the water above the dam. To my utter surprise she paddled right up to the burgeoning lip of the dam, hopped primly over the precipice and rode down the rough rapids like a bad-ass snowboarder! She was fishing.

My niece Nicole told me in the spring it is so funny to watch a line of brown and white Merganser chicks follow their mother down the rapids.

The Blue Jays on the East Coast have a lot of white to their costumes, and are just as noisy as the Puget Sound Steller's Jays. In Maggie's yard are Grackles, a Barred Rock, and two Buff Orppingtons. Blue Jays on the roof top.

One evening I watched Cliff Swallows fight with the Blue Jays right over the river currents. The Cliff Swallows worked as a team.

Remembering the Robe Canyon Trail

2010-07-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

Hi Mom,

Busy Monday at work. I took calls for two memorials this morning, same as Monday last week. What are people doing on their weekends?!
To calm my mind I think of our lovely forest hike along Robe Canyon on Saturday.

I've been cross-referencing bird info sources and think it was the Rufus-Backed Swainson’s Thrush we saw in the forest. The Swainson's uses salmonberry stands as a nesting site, which is a strong clue. The white "spectacle" eye ring is a strong indicator too. There were plenty of mosquitoes for it to eat with the mossy bogs of cold water, pocked with explosions of verdant skunk cabbage!
How is your Monday?

(To Ally the next day)
Monday was good. I took Raven to the Fun Forest in the Seattle Center, mindful of the fact that this is its last summer. It will be torn down in the fall. She won't be six years old for another summer either. She tried every ride and we ate junk food. Fun.
I had come to the same conclusion about the Swainson's Thrush. When we started out on our hike through the forest, it was so quiet I was afraid we wouldn't see any birds at all, so it was gratifying to come up with three we'd never seen before.
Your work pulls from both sides, doesn't it. Joy and grief.

(To Mom)
It is heartbreaking to help folks with a memorial.
The owner of the funeral home up the street is one of the very few who have my cell number. When I see his name on my caller ID, I know there is a grieving family huddled there in his office. He called me this morning.
I keep thinking about the American Dipper we saw on the swift mountain river. I've never seen a bird pump up and down like it did, like a fierce little gray chicken. My bird guide says the American Dipper "walks under water"! Remarkable. The Dipper was completely at ease in the rushing glacial currents that crash and swirl around the huge boulders.
I will always treasure the times you took my kids to the Seattle Center. They are certainly not little anymore!
Did you find any history on Robe Canyon and the ghost town?

(To Ally)
Walking under water seems miraculous to me, too. I read that the Dipper can swim as well, using its wings to propel itself along, like flying under water.

And what about the unimposing little Spotted Sand Piper? I read that she has a series of mates each season and leaves all but the last one to hatch the eggs and raise the young alone. The patriarchs would gasp at the idea.
I did find some interesting history of the Robe Canyon railroad. It was constructed in the 1890s but had to be rebuilt almost every year of its use because of destructive rock slides and crashing floods through the narrow canyon.
Do you think the American Dipper got its name from its hunting method or from that odd knee-bending action? Are they even called knees in a bird’s legs? They bend in the opposite direction to ours.

(To Mom)
Ha! Yes, bird "knees" are more like "elbows".
We could see much evidence of the effects of nature on the trail we inched along above the roaring river. When Dave and I used to hike there twenty years ago, hikers could explore the train tunnels and very old trestle bridge that are now forbidden for people to enter or even approach.
The signs that warned of danger to dogs that weren't leashed indicated the sudden, sheer drop-offs on the trail's edge could be lethal to a boisterous, unsuspecting Golden Retriever! My guess is that those signs are there as reaction to actual accidents.
I thought it was funny to name a restaurant "Los Flamingos" in a place where there is zero chance of ever seeing a Flamingo. Although the Flamingos did make for a gorgeous mural. Can we count that as an actual bird sighting? I liked their homemade salsa with fresh cilantro and salty tortilla chips. Wish I had some now.

(To Ally)
This just in – Audubon’s site says the American Dipper gets its name from the bending up and down that we witnessed, and there is a theory that the odd action is a form of communication, a sort of sign language in a place where crashing water sounds would make an ordinary bird call hard to hear. And just to add to the peculiarity of the bird, it has white eyelids it can see through under water. Weird. And it looked like such an ordinary little gray bird.

Robe Canyon Trail – The South Fork of the Stillaguamish River

2010-07-21T17:14:00.000-07:00

July, 2010
It was chill and damp, cloudy, almost foggy when we started out through the soaring trees and soon along a winding trail with sharp declines and sheer drop-offs. Though mostly silent, there were a few bird sounds at first – one a rising warble that ended on an echoing trill. A cheerful, heartening sound in the deep green. I was afraid of meeting a bear. Ally related her bear encounter tales which was entertaining but didn’t reassure. She said to just keep making noise. Easy to do; it felt like we were tramping along and conversing rudely in a semi-dark cathedral.

In the forest, going down, we only saw one bird which was settled on a branch near the trail repeating a soft plaintive whistle. It was a plump, light brown bird with a yellowish speckled throat and white eye ring, about the size of a robin. A pretty, quiet bird that gazed back at us unperturbed by our bear-repelling noise. Ally sketched it and made notes and then we left it there to continue down the slippery trail. I was glad for the help of her firm hand over stones and logs mossed over by clear rivulets. The trees around us became increasingly draped in soft green moss.

Finally we made it down to the river, fast-running water over smooth boulders and stones. Tall trees pressed up against the edge of the river on both sides. Right away we saw a curious bird on top of a boulder near the shore. It was similar in size and shape to the forest bird we’d seen, but was all gray, with a shorter tail it sometimes cocked up like a wren. Most odd was the quick knee-bending motion it repeated over and over, like someone exercising. Then suddenly it hopped down into the shallows and made a meal of something it found there. We were surprised because it had a shorter beak than we expected of a shore bird.

So we each found a boulder of our own nearby on the rocky bank and perched on it ourselves to watch. Besides the gray bird, which set to preening, we could see what seemed to be a Sand Piper darting back and forth and tipping up and down like a water toy along the far edge of the river, apparently finding lots of whatever it liked to eat in the shallow water. Again we were surprised because this looked like a beach bird, not one we expected to see by a mountain river.
When we climbed back up to the trail, we hiked along the remains of a railroad track that was used to carry silver and gold from mines upriver more than a hundred years ago. And as the day warmed we began to see some of our familiar favorites: Stellar’s Jays, Robins, and one regal Raven gliding soundlessly among the trees.

Lunch was at Los Flamingos in Granite Falls. We were the only customers in the small, elaborately-decorated dining room, but a glance into the large bar and pool table area in back indicated a busier evening trade. All around our table were large richly-colored murals depicting dramatic landscapes and Mexican village life. We placed our order of black-bean enchiladas and chicken chalupas, and then we began to search in our bird guides for the identities of the three new birds we’d seen. The gray one, it turned out, was an American Dipper, and the other small bird hunting in the shallows was a Spotted Sand Piper. But with only the books we had, we weren’t able to identify the soft brown bird we’d seen. Our lunches arrived, fresh and delicious, and we ate too much. Ole! Three new birds and no bears. Not bad.

Texas Birds and Heat

2010-07-14T09:16:00.000-07:00

(To Ally)
So now it's hot. This weather reminds me of my last visit to Texas. I'm tempted to fly down there now because I miss Nick and his bunch, but really I should wait until it’s cooler. This heat reminds me how enervating hot climates can be. Even the crows are deflated by the temperature, in the nineties today! The alpha crow is panting on the wire with his ragged molting feathers spread to catch a breeze. Can you imagine how much heat those black feathers absorb? The female and the sparrows are more sensible and are hidden and quiet among the shady leaves.

My trip to Texas will have to wait, but sweet Chloe made me a booklet of bird pictures she'd drawn, lovely detailed little pictures and I'll send along a couple of them for you to see. She had labeled them as a Broad-tailed Humming bird and a Scrub Jay. I told her we'll take a bird walk the next time I'm there. It's much easier to plan trips now that I'm not on call at the bridge anymore.

(To Mom)

I love Chloe's bird drawings! Her simple lines perfectly capture the essence of the birds. We are lucky to have her as our surrogate bird artist in Texas, and we don't have to bear the blazing temps!
I ran at 3:00 pm on Thursday and it was so hot there were no other trail users at all. I saw nary a Sparrow nor Spotted Towhee, nor Wren or Robin. There were three determined Crows staggering and stomping in the dry grasses near the restrooms, their beaks agape and eyes glassy. They looked at me accusingly as if it was my fault it was so damned hot. One Crow drank deeply from the water dish under the drinking fountain that trail users keep filled for our dogs.
Unlike last Thursday, it's cool and cloudy today, and I am glad.
Thanks for coming to Cashel's game yesterday! The Rangers won the championship. She has an expensive, ugly yellow sweatshirt to prove it.

(To Ally)
I love the drawings, too. The Humming Bird's wings seem to be moving, don't they. And her Scrub Jay looks like it's just about to let loose with one of the "harsh and angry" calls Sibley describes this sort of bird as having. Pretty good for someone who's not quite eight years old.
Congrats to Cashel's soccer team! The Spanish World Cup team won their championship on the same day clear around the planet in South Africa. Maybe they got ugly yellow sweatshirts as well.

Red Crossbill, Belted Kingfisher and Jerry Lewis

2010-07-08T14:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Ally,

July again but we've had very little summer yet. I've been wondering about your brides and their garden weddings. Are there any wedding dress and tuxedo packages that come with coordinating umbrellas? It's a niche.

Driving up the narrow alley behind Ebb's place yesterday, I stopped to watch a Red Crossbill perched on a wooden fence just a couple of feet from my car window. I thought at first it was a House Finch because of the soft brown and tawny red coloring, but that peculiar beak is unmistakable.
What an odd bird. Darwin would be very interested in its twisted bill which evolved specifically to dig out the seed kernels from pine cones. I wish I could watch one of them do that. It's hard to imagine how it works.
Did you say you saw a Kingfisher?

(To Mom)
I have noticed umbrellas are a recurring motif in my brides' photos. That and waterproof make-up.
I've never seen a Crossbill! Did you happen to have your binoculars with you?
Last week I saw my first Belted Kingfisher! It was perched on a bridge over the creek and shot me a furious look as my truck zoomed by. It looked like a short, stocky Stellar’s Jay with a distinct white collar. I was able to identify it in my book once I got home. The book said Kingfishers stick to their chosen fishing territory, so I will be on the look-out for it on that bridge.

(To Ally)

As a matter of fact, my binoculars were in my backpack nearby, but the Crossbill didn't stay long and I would have missed him if I'd tried to dig out and uncap them. It must be an emotional pull that all birders share - should I try to grab the binoculars, or the camera? Or should I just accept this gift, this moment? Anyway, just telling you what I have seen clicks the SAVE button in my brain and that's as good as a picture.

I like your description of the Belted Kingfisher, too. I've heard their call but never seen one myself. They seem a little comical in pictures I've seen, their heads too big for their bodies.

(To Mom)

The Belted Kingfisher reminds me of Jerry Lewis with its dark coif, white "shirt collar" and dark jacket, and its slightly ugly looks carried with undaunted confidence. I looked for it on the bridge on my way to work this gorgeous morning, but no sighting. Other drivers on the road were irritated that I slowed down, but they don't realize the importance! I may just park to the side next time, though...

South Park Bridge Goodbye

2010-06-27T14:23:00.000-07:00

It seems I have worked my last shift on the old South Park Bridge and I’m glad to be able to say I saw a new bird – a Blue-winged Teal – to mark the occasion. It was a female with the usual brown mottled feathering, except for a slash of neon blue and white down each side. The marking was so vivid, it reminded me of someone who adds a bright scarf to what would otherwise be a dowdy suit and carries off the combination with confidence. The little duck looked pleased with herself, standing with her muddy orange feet on the piling cross-piece below the tower window, vigorously preening her feathers.

I didn’t see the sea lion all day, or the male of the nesting gull pair, or the single Great Blue Heron that usually fishes at the edge of the river nearby, and I was beginning to think my last day as a bridge tender might redouble in melancholy by no sighting of an interesting bird. Then there she was. And now I will always associate Blue-winged Teals with the passing of the cantankerous but much appreciated old bridge.

It’s not possible to overstate the difficulty the closing of this bridge is going to cause the people who have depended on it. The effects will range all the way from inconvenience to ruin. And because the politicians have finally begun to take notice, there will be a new bridge someday. But as each of the tenders works a final shift one by one and takes a last look around the cramped room where we have spent so many solitary hours, it is going to be like giving up on an old friend.

Wrens, Gulls, and Hiking on Mt. Baker

2010-06-22T16:18:00.000-07:00

Hi Mom,
Just now, driving Cashel from one soccer gig to the next, I looked up at a Glaucous Gull as it banked a turn above my truck: it's stark white winged form a precise stencil against the bright blue sky, and suddenly it felt like summertime!
When we ate our lunch at the Conway Pub & Eatery I noticed that many of the patrons - and there were many - had ordered hamburgers. That makes me think the place must make a good burger. And I forgot to mention that you were right, it was flooring material that lined the walls of the Ladies Room! I guess that makes it easier to clean?
It's funny there was only one other birder walking at Fir Island on such a beautiful day. He asked if we had seen anything unusual, but we had not yet seen our Marsh Wren.
Love, Ally

(To Ally)
I just wondered if being surrounded by vinyl-flooring walls might be disorienting to someone who'd had too many beers. But I liked it. I liked the whole place. Those oysters smoking on the grill just outside the door smelled wonderful, didn't they.
So, finally a graduation announcement: the crow parents led their two new offspring around to the deck side of our building today. The young ones were so funny, squawking in imitation of the adults' caws, unwilling to come closer than the trees across the street.
The female adult has been absent from view for weeks, just tending the nest, I think. It was always the male who waited on the wire for some bread or peanuts to be thrown out to him which he ate a bit of but then disappeared around the building with the rest for the family. Every once in a while I toss out a chunk of cheese, which he loves best. Last week when I did that he grabbed it and flew to the roof across the street where he seemed to be relishing every small bite he broke off, but just before it was all gone, he stopped and looked around. Then he scooped up what remained and dutifully took off for the nest.
I was surprised to meet only one other birder in such a prime birding area, too. Rain had been forecasted, but isn't it usually? We were lucky it held off for us again. And we were very lucky to see a Marsh Wren. From what we read in our bird guides, a clear sighting isn't common.
Do you ever see interesting birds while you are at Cashel's soccer games?

(To Mom)
Ha! At least the toilet and sink were in typical positions.
We're going to go to the Conway Pub & Eatery for my birthday later this month! We'll hike at Fir Island, and then have lunch at the biker bar. The boys are going to try the blue cheeseburger with "hard-fried" onions.
Our crow pair loves cheese too.

Wiley noticed a pair of Bewick’s Wrens has built a nest in an old light fixture on our garage roof. Now I recognize the sound when the female Bewick's is calling to the male from her nest. She is very shrill. The male will pause momentarily on the Buddha statue's head as if he is collecting his nerves before answering her call. He picks bugs from the brick patio to bring back to the nest.
Now that you mention it, birds in general seem to avoid the frenetic soccer fields where Cashel's teams train and compete. Crows and Seagulls will glide over looking for dropped food, but I have certainly never seen the reclusive Marsh Wren, even though the soccer fields are very often right on the edge of a marsh.
Had any last bridge shifts?

(To Ally)

Yes, I was called in for the swing shift this week, so I got to watch the Glaucous-winged Gull pair nesting in the pilings. The female seemed half asleep, rarely shifting position on the nest, but the male was antsy - flying in circles or walking up and down the crosspiece near the nest. Finally he flew off and returned a little while later with his beak full of brown grass. He landed next to the nest and deposited the grass near her head. He seemed to nuzzle her for a moment and then flew off again. Without getting up, she transferred bits of the grass down around her sides, and soon he returned with more which she also put to immediate use.
Had she somehow let it be known that she was uncomfortable, that the sticks they had used to fill the piling cavity were too rough? Or had he just become impatient with waiting around? I don't know, maybe that is standard activity for nesting gulls. We still have a lot to learn, don't we.
Hurray for Wrens nesting in your backyard! That will be fun progress to watch.
Let me know what sightings you make on your Mt. Baker camping trip this weekend.

(To Mom)
I love what the Glaucous have done with the brown grass. I feel more comfortable just thinking about it.

This morning Mr. Bewick's Wren alerted his Mrs. when I opened the kitchen window to let Cricket hop out. Cricket lowered her head and frowned at Mr. Bewick's to say she sure didn't appreciate the announcement. Their song is so pretty, the little Bewick's!
We made a potato print of Mr. Bewick's Wren for the father's day cards.

There were so many birding opportunities on Mt. Baker this weekend; it was like watching "Bird TV" 24-hours a day. It is interesting that the hearty Robins thrive in the deep wilderness just as successfully as they do in the city. Wiley and I tracked Pine Siskins by their zip song, but couldn't get a clear sighting of the bitty things. I do love their hollow, transcendental zip mantra that echoes against the huge forest trees and the mountain tops.
Much to the delight of our teens - far from TV, Internet or any form of electronics - a feisty Hairy Woodpecker would cling to the bark of a Douglas Fir and jackhammer its formidable beak against the metal cross country ski sign to scare the teens from its territory.
Dave, Tess and I took a hike up to Yellow Aster Butte, an alpine meadow at 3,000 feet altitude. Goldfinches dazzled in the bright mountain sunshine, and we got a good long look at a Varied Thrush (a first for me!).
As we came back down the steep trail, everyone we passed asked if we had seen the bear! We had not, but they had spotted it way up in the meadow; they watched it with binoculars from the car park at the trail head. When we were up in the meadow we watched a Red Tailed Hawk ride high on the wind currents, then dive suddenly over and over where the rock cliffs met the meadow grasses. It was probably hunting, but later we wondered if it was worrying after the bear as it shuffled through the meadow.
Now back to city life and work. The kids are on summer vacation!

Fir Island in the Skagit River Delta

2010-06-11T14:50:00.000-07:00

May 30, 2010

Finally, a chance to meet Mom for birding at the Skagit River Delta! I left Interstate 5 at Conway via a two-lane highway that was noticeably higher than the deep green fields, many with dark chocolate dirt just turned. A big man was up to his waist in the rich loam, digging a trench by hand with a shovel. Slow sloughs and small, clear creeks wound through the fields and farmsteads, an integral part of the water drain from the mountains.

I turned off the highway too soon and ended up at a “Public Hunting Area”. Yikes! Men and boys marched along the dykes with their dogs on lead and rifles in hand. Mom was already at the right place, so helped me by cell phone to get there also. We parked, readied our gear, and then passed through a gate into Fir Island.
I said to Mom, “My fish and wildlife parking permit is good for our two cars for a year.”
Mom hesitated, then said, “I don’t think I want to stay here that long.”

The landscape was lush. We waded along two truck-tire rows through waves of grass atop a winding dyke. Waterways all around us were clear, the marsh grass rose in swatches of blue green or straw-colored yellows and browns. We watched Mallards for a long while. We decided we appreciate the subtle beauty of the female’s colors best after we adjusted to the “shock and awe” of the male’s vibrant display.

Barn Swallows swooped and flitted, feasting on a wealth of fat insects. The Red Winged Blackbirds whistled their call from left, then right – all around the marsh. A Northern Harrier hunted up ahead, first scanning from its perch in a tree crag, then coasting low over the grasses and waterways.

A large gathering of enormous Eagles and stately Herons stood in counsel at the tide’s lip. They were having a meeting of great importance, and Mom and I were not invited. It took a conscious effort to adjust to the Eagles’ sheer size after having just studied the petite Barn Swallows.

Quite close to us, a flash of movement in an Oregon Grape bush caught our attention. The colors of the bird were so well matched to the marsh colors it was difficult to pinpoint the bird once it decided to perch and sing. Mom described the wren to me using her binoculars, and I sketched it into my rain-proof notebook: black crown, distinct white eye band, black and white hatch marks on its back, with russet on its sides and in the wing feathers also. We were pretty sure it was not the Bewick’s Wren, nor the Winter Wren.

Conway Pub & Eatery

There is only one place to have lunch anywhere near Fir Island, and it is a renowned biker bar. We were a bit nervous walking up. The sun gleamed off rows of beefy motorcycles hitched in front of the quaint wooden building. The restaurant is entered through a tight bar already busy on this sunny Sunday afternoon. Shaggy bearded heads turned to assess me and Mom, but within seconds the worn, bearded faces broke into friendly smiles, a nod hello, then back to their beers.

The place was clean. The waitresses were friendly and fast, although there was no missing the fact that they were also all pretty. I wondered how such a vast, grassy delta could produce this number of hot chicks! We ordered Fish-n-Chips, and then got straight to our bird guides. The little wren that graced us with its spring song was a Marsh Wren! A new discovery for us!

The Fish-n-Chips were excellent and were served with fresh coleslaw. Mom had coffee and I had a tall glass of soda pop. Our new friends smiled and nodded goodbye as we packed up our bird guides and walked back out into the sunshine.

Cowbird, Moses, Merganser and Osprey

2010-06-03T12:08:00.000-07:00

May, 2010
(To Ally)
Something very interesting happened on the bird walk I took in Discovery Park last Saturday. Most of the other folks were birders with some experience, quick to exclaim with some degree of delight at the sighting of every bird, even the Robins and Crows - until we came upon a Brown-headed Cowbird. At that point there was a general grumble of disgust. Someone explained to the one child who had come along that the Cowbird lays its egg in the nest of one of the smaller birds and leaves it for the foster mother to hatch. Thinking it is one of hers, the foster mother struggles to feed the baby that soon grows bigger than she is, while at the same time it crowds out the real offspring, or eats them. Everyone recoiled at the image.
Isn't it interesting that we react that way to the Cowbird's evolutionary adaptation for survival. We can accept the hawk's predation, but not the Cowbird's deception.
I would never have left you in some other mother's nest.
Love,
Mom

Hi Mom!
Thank you for not putting me in someone else's nest.
I really wonder how the Cowbird's foster-parent survival technique is passed along to baby Cowbirds if the biological parent is not there to teach it. It has to be hardwired to that species.
Maybe we humans would admire and appreciate the Cowbird's adaptation if it had a prettier name, like Tawny-headed Cleopatrabird. Speaking of Cleopatra, Moses' mother set infant Moses afloat on the Nile River hoping he would thrive better in another mother's nest. And he sure did.
When I left the house early this morning there was a section of Sparrow wing just at the foot of the steps. Guess that is why Cricket was not hungry for breakfast.

(To Ally)
Well, it's possible Brown-headed Cowbirds do have some species confusion. The dictionary says in explanation of their name only that it is "from their habit of staying with cattle".
I looked up the Bittern's name too and found a tracing back to Middle English and Old French similar words, but no translation of those, so no help. There is one short article I came across on the net which tells the origins of some birds' names, but not many, and some of those seem so obvious as to be unnecessary, like for Road Runners, Wood Peckers, and Sap Suckers. A few were interesting though: vulture is from the Old Latin for "tearer", which seems perfect; robin is related to the Old High German for "fame and bright" and that suits the confident posture of that bird, don't you think; owl came from the Latin for "howl" because the ancient Romans thought the sound of the bird was like the sound of the wolf; gull is from the Welsh for "weep or wail" and I've heard that the call of a gull can cause a nursing mother's milk to come down because it sounds so much like a crying baby. The same article traces flicker to Old Norse and refers to the flash of color under the bird's wings when it flies, like we had thought it might.
Yes, you're right - as malleable as we are to advertisers, we might be more tolerant of the cowbird if it had a more attractive name. And it's true that Moses' mother did save his life by giving him up, though she was so clever that she arranged to be hired as his nurse in the process, and we don't see a Cowbird mother hanging around to make sure her offspring will be OK... I'm afraid there really isn't any PR we can come up with that would make birders more accepting of the Cowbird.
A birder mob might be inclined to exact some pretty swift justice against Cricket, too.

(To Mom)
I forgot that part of the Moses story. Smart mama, that Moses mama.
I love the origin of the Robin's name.
Way before the inception of binoculars and the internet there were birders dressed in burlap and leathers, communicating with each other about what birds they had seen.

(To Ally)
That was my reaction to reading the origins of birds' names, too - imagining those people so long ago. And the same birds must have different ancient names in different places, especially migrating birds.
I've been avoiding the news again, not wanting to hear about how the oil catastrophe in the Gulf is affecting the birds there. If birds have names for us, they couldn't be very complimentary.

(To Mom)
Yes, I can't stand to think how the oil will affect our beautiful birds, and all the creatures deep under water. I can only hope they are cursing humans with all their twitter and song abilities. Instead of "tearer", like the name that originated the name of the Vulture, they will call us "spiller".
Drinking Earl Gray tea mixed with peppermint. Cold and cloudy here in Bellingham. The brides of present and future are breathing down my neck, bedecked in jewels and pastel-colored halter tops, but ruthless as angry cougars.

(To Ally)

Just wanted to tell you I saw a new bird from the bridge tower today. It had a very dramatic appearance with russet feathering that looked like wind-swept hair sticking out all along the back of its head and neck, black shadowing around its eyes, and a bright orange-red, thin beak. Back at home I checked my bird books and determined without a doubt it was a female Red-breasted Merganser. I was lucky to see it, because it's a bird that migrates out of this area about this time of year.
I also watched a Bald Eagle fishing the river until a bad-tempered crow drove it off, and a gull pair building a nest in the hollowed-out top of one of the pilings. There were lots of water birds to watch, all avoiding the middle of the river where that villainous sea lion bobbed in and out of sight. One of the other tenders had seen a fisherman shooting at the sea lion yesterday, trying to keep it away from the salmon, but that's against the law so the tender had to call the wildlife officials who would want to know.
Are you holding up alright amid the Brides?

(To Mom)
Holy cow! Lots of action on the Duwamish.
I looked at pictures of the Red-breasted Merganser. It is fabulous - debonair with its handsome eye and casual smile, and its movie star "hair-do".
The brides are relentless, marching at me in infinite infantries. I have no defense. Can I borrow your Sea Lion?

(To Ally)
Well, today it was an Osprey! I thought at first it was one of those plastic owls people put up to keep messy pigeons away. It was stone still on the roof edge of an abandoned warehouse flooded by high tide. Suddenly it pitched forward and hurtled toward the water, unfurling huge wings as it struck the surface and swung away with a fish in its talons. What a show! And to think, someone pays me to watch the river.

(To Mom)
Beautiful. I love that word, Osprey. That would be a good name for a sailboat.
Cold here, with heavy rain. I'm sipping coffee I just got from the Engineers' secret coffee pot upstairs. Very strong!
I've been running alone because Tess cut her paw, sliced it open on a blackberry thorn. I had to leave her where she was on the trail, run to my truck, then drive back and pick her up. She is depressed now. I hide my gear, but she knows full well I am running the trails without her.
When is your next bridge shift?

(To Ally)
Wet and chilly here too. One mug of hot green tea after another. I don't know when I'll be called in to work next. The man who works the Monday through Friday night shift is on chemo and is pretty sick, so I'm ready to be called to sub for him frequently in the weeks the bridge has left to exist. It's an eerie sensation to be there all night, especially behind a curtain of rain, because it feels like floating in orbit unattached to the earth. No birds to watch either, not until morning begins to break.
You know it worries me for you to run without your sidekick. When will her foot be healed enough for her to join you again?

(To Mom)
Tess still can't run! I tried at lunch today, but had to turn around. I have to sneak out of the house in my gear, and spell the words "run" and "go" when I tell the kids I'm heading out. I swear Tess is learning to spell now. She perks her head suspiciously at the letter "r". I wear pajamas until the very last second when I slip out the back door. The neighbors think I'm crazy.

There is lots of ground water on the trails from all the rain we've had. I watched a big crow bathe vigorously, an avian stud in his shiny black feathers.

National Migratory Bird Day - May 8, 2010

2010-05-20T18:02:00.000-07:00

Discovery Park, Seattle

On this sunny spring day, a group of us started out early with Anne, one of the Park's staff naturalists in the lead. Many different kinds of warblers were busy in the tall trees, finding insects. They flitted so quickly from place to place that it was hard to get a good look at any individual, and staring intently, often straight up into the branches, gave us all achy "warbler neck". But their mingled music was wonderful to hear. Most were migratory song birds, on their way to another place, and I felt very lucky to witness their passage. But one I didn't see at all made the strongest impression; it was an Orange-crowned Warbler that sent out its call from a stand of alders across a meadow. Anne described the sound like that of an orange rolling off a table and that was exactly what it sounded like, an audible burbling descent, and it was amazingly loud coming from a tiny body no bigger than a man's thumb hidden somewhere in the foliage.

Moving along the path through forests and beside wide patches of tall green grass, we saw four different kinds of sparrows, three that were new to me. Savannah Sparrows were nesting in the grass.

White-crowned Sparrows stayed deeper in the forest repeating over and over a phrase that Anne taught us to recognize as "See ME, pretty pretty me!"

And eventually we ran across a pair of charming little carrot-topped Chipping Sparrows, a sighting here that was even new to Anne. They were picking their way along a paved walkway and were unconcerned by our proximity and gaping.

I have to admit this was the first time I really got a good look at an American Goldfinch, our state bird and one of the most common here. I've glimpsed many - passing by with their distinctive swoop-and-fall flight, flitting swiftly from place to place in the trees, or so far away that all I could catch in my binoculars was a spot of brilliant yellow. But this time there was one perched at the top of an evergreen near us and it stayed there sunning itself so we could stare at it all we wanted.

The most beautiful new birds I saw were the Violet-green Swallow and the Western Tanager. This Swallow seemed smaller than the Barn or Tree Swallows we have seen before because it doesn't have the longer forked tail, but it did have vivid, shifting iridescent colors on its head, back and wings in contrast to the clean white of its lower face, breast and underside.

The Tanager's contrasting black, yellow and red were entrancing, too. At first we only heard its call and caught quick peeks of it in the tree tops, but as we were about to leave, one lovely little male Tanager alit on a branch nearby and stayed still there for several minutes. Good luck for us on National Migratory Bird Day.

Discovery Park Sightings, Swallows, Killdeers, and Bitterns

2010-05-03T14:58:00.000-07:00

April, 2010

Hi, Ally! I've been meaning to tell you about the bird walk I took this weekend in Discovery Park. It started at 8:00 in the morning and the temperature was just above freezing so it was a shivery deal. I was grateful that you taught me about the little heat packets to stick inside my boots and into my gloves. With them I could bear the cold just fine. Others in the group were not so lucky and were obviously too uncomfortable to enjoy the birds. And even the birds seemed a little slowed by the cold, though we did eventually tally up most of the same regulars for this time of year that I had seen on the Birding By Ear tour a couple of weeks ago. I especially liked watching three Pine Siskins bending the thin limbs of a young alder while they picked clean its small seed cones. There were two male Northern Flickers enthusiastically competing for the attention of an equally enthusiastic but undecided female. They flew with lightening speed from tree top to tree top flashing the bright orange undersides of their wings and screeching out their superior qualifications over and over. I got the best look I've had at a Dark-eyed Junco, and listened to the eerie low-pitched call of the Varied Thrush. And I saw a Chestnut-backed Chickadee for the first time. So pretty.

As we were heading back to our cars, luckily someone glanced behind us and saw a American Bald Eagle at the top of a tall evergreen, on a sturdy perch which was the result of some odd topping accident the tree had suffered long ago. The leader of the group centered the Eagle in a scope so we could take turns getting a closer look. After straining to see the tiny flitting of all the other birds, the Eagle looked to me as heavy and large as a refrigerator. What a massive, powerful creature, hardly fitting the word "bird" it seemed.

More later. Have to go lift weights.

(To Mom)

Marvelous. You had a rich birding encounter.
About three weeks ago I started seeing the Swallows again in Cricket's field. I knew they weren't Barn Swallows because of a flash of white, but I couldn't get a good look because of their dizzying speed and swoop. Today I paused with Tess at the top of a high grass knoll, and one of the Swallows passed me at eye level not five feet away! They are Tree Swallows I am seeing.

In the field the Killdeers are protecting their ground nests; Tess cannot resist falling for their feigned injuries. The Killdeers give her a good workout with the extra running.

Cashel starts school track today.

Yesterday I made a yummy Thai coconut soup with tofu, carrots and broccoli. It made for a good lunch left-over, with heavy seeded wheat bread.

(To Ally)
You have to make some of the coconut soup for me sometime. It sounds good.

We found out today for sure the bridge will shut down on June 30. Not unexpected news, but a little jolting anyway.

I wish I could see a Killdeer. Have you seen any of the babies that all these theatrics are protecting? Try to snap a picture with your cell phone if you get a chance.

(To Mom)
So it is really going to happen, the bridge will close. Will you be placed as a sub in another job? Garbage truck driver, animal control, Narrows Bridge toll taker?

Come to think of it, I haven't seen the Killdeer babies! Maybe I'll spot some at the Vincent beach this weekend.

I watched American Bitterns at Clayton Beach on Sunday. They are kind of ugly, in a beautiful way. Like the Herons.

(To Ally)
Ha! That's true - I'm going to have to find a new career.

I haven't seen Bitterns yet either. Do you think they were nesting or just passing in migration?

(To Mom)
The Bitterns must be nesting because they were acting territorial.

I'm sick today, so no run for Tess. She watches me closely when I am sick, like a mother hen. She'll only rest her head - muzzle set silently on speckled paws - when I close my eyes.

Do you have any ideas for a new career?

(To Ally)
I hate to hear that you are sick. It's nice to know that Good Nurse Tess is in charge though.

As for another job, the only one I can think of right now is your idea to be one of the people who think up names for house paint colors. Do you think anyone has ever done the research and written a book about how all those birds we are learning about got their names? That's what I always wonder about when I read anything about Bitterns as a mater of fact. It's such a strong word and the "bitter" part of it ties itself to the birds somehow.

You rest now, and get well.

(To Mom)
Tess has got me nearly fixed - feeling better.

I read somewhere that the Brits are responsible for a bulk of the official bird names. Not sure why that is. Now I want to know!
love you, Ally

American Bittern: has a beer belly and no neck, but makes up for it with gorgeous eyes and a beak to rival Marilyn Monroe's gams.

Birding by Ear Class - March 20, 2010 Discovery Park, Seattle

2010-04-24T16:36:00.000-07:00

The class started inside with some excellent slide photographs of various birds we could expect to hear at this time of year, along with recordings of their calls. We each had a list in hand of 37 birds. 37. I jotted notes next to the first few names as pictures were flashed and recordings played but very soon I was outpaced. A glance at my fellow birders wasn't very reassuring. Several were nodding with recognition at minute differences in chirps that sounded exactly alike to me. On top of that, Penny, the instructor, mentioned that older people can't hear high pitches as well as others, so I knew I was going into this area of birding handicapped from the beginning,

When we got outside though, the hodgepodge of bird noises was even more bewildering. On such an early spring morning, it's not unusual to hear a lot of different birds sounding off, but trying to pick individual calls out of that cloud of sound seemed impossible to me. Penny, however, was in her medium. Careful not to point, but nodding discretely in various directions, she rattled off a list of six or eight bird names. "Hear that?" she asked and several people murmured accent. I noticed though that I was not the only one of the group staring at her completely baffled. She noticed it, too, and reassured us that we would learn, that it just takes time and practice. So there we went, off along the trail to see what we could hear, and to hear at least what we couldn't see.

It was a very successful outing, if numbers of birds indentified by sight or sound is the measure. Two-thirds of the list at least. Among the most pleasing to me was the Brown Creeper, a tiny bark-colored bird, so closely pressed to the tree trunk that it was almost invisible. It moved quickly from bottom to top, picking bugs from between the ridges of the bark as it went. When it got to the top, it flitted down to the bottom and began once more picking its way up the side of the tree. Penny said the Red-breasted Nuthatch feeds the same way, except it begins at the top and works its way down. I didn't see a Nuthatch, but was able to identify the sound of one easily when it was described as the repeated honking of a child's tin horn. That was exactly what I could hear from deeper in the forest.

From the top of a hollow snag a Downy Woodpecker tonk tonk tonked a declaration of territory that resounded through the trees. Chickadees chirped their names over and over. Pine Siskens zipped, and American Goldfinches chipped. Dark-eyed Juncos seemed to be tapping little rocks together in their calls. Anna's Hummingbirds whirred by with a matallic buzz. And the Robins burbled their cheery songs all around.

But when every call suddenly fell silent, we searched and finally found a Cooper's Hawk surveying the area from the top of a towering pine tree. Looking for lunch. When it finally gave up and flew away, the noisy hubbub resumed.

When Penny said to listen for a cat meowing and there we would find a Spotted Towhee, I had a hard time believing it, but sure enough I heard the sound and found the bird. The cat's meow was just part of its call, but it was easy to discern. I gazed at the Towhee for a long time through my binoculars. It seemed close enough to touch and I was amazed at its rich colors and patterns. If I were a fabric designer, I thought, I would use birds for inspiration.

As I got out of my car back at home after class, I heard two birds call to each other from trees on either sides of our building. I couldn't see them, but I knew what they were - Belted Kingfishers. The single rattling trill reminded me of the sound a cicada makes, but with a lower pitch. It was easily distinguishable from the calls of other birds and I was very glad I was able to own the experience by naming its source.

Wrens, Bushtits, Juncos and Tess

2010-04-24T10:37:00.000-07:00

Almost Spring, 2010
(To Mom)
I've had plenty of time on this lovely Saturday (no work!) to read about and study the Winter Wren and the Bewick's. Guess what! I'm really embarrassed to have to back up and tell you it is the Winter Wren I hear daily on the running trails, and not the Bewick's. Their calls are quite different, and it is the sharp "tick tick" of the Winter Wren I hear - no mistaking it. The "tick tick" is as clear as a lady's long, painted fingernail tapping distinctly on cold glass. I never have binoculars when I am running, so can't get a certain visual identification. I guess part of our new aspiration - birding - is that there are times when we will have to modify past identifications as we learn more.

I stopped to watch Bushtits on the trail above Chuckanut Bay this morning. What struck me is that birds are the embodiment of pure beauty. Birds fill our art museums, our music, our literature, our wrapping paper illustrations, kid's books too. But they are also the embodiment of pure tough, like tiny winged Clint Eastwoods. Can you think of anything else that has that stark dichotomy?
Before we began birding, I never stopped mid-stride while on a run. Tess has adjusted to the new way of running. I stand completely still so I can watch a bird; Tess stops completely still too, and watches my face. Then we romp on.

(To Ally)

What you said about birds being both beautiful and tough reminded me of the picture of a Cactus Wren you drew to send your grandfather in Texas. How can anything be tough enough to land on cactus like that?
I can just imagine how our new interest has changed the character of your runs because it has changed my habits of concentration, too. It's probably irritating to my friends, but I can't help it. The slightest fluttering off to the side of a conversation instantly has my attention. I wish I could hear what Tess is thinking when you stop running and stare into a shrub though.
Every time I step out on the deck these early spring mornings I hear so many different bird calls, it doesn't seem possible that we could ever learn them all, but I think some people do. Well, we're just beginning.

(To Mom)
Because of my alert posture, I think Tess is hoping I will pounce on some creature, and then she will join in the hunt! Birding is similar to hunting in some ways, and she is attuned to the "hunt" aspect. She is getting the impression I am a very poorly-skilled or unlucky hunter - but she is too polite to say so.

Tessa Vincent: Queensland Heeler/Corgi Mix and Accidental Birder

In order to solve the Bewick's /Winter Wren puzzle, I ran with binoculars in hand yesterday. The only conclusion I reached undoubtedly is that I need new binoculars. I can see the bird better with my naked eye than with my old, small binoculars. Still I was blessed with a very close study of the Winter Wren. It sang its symphony for several minutes just a few feet away. Its song IS different than the other birds; the song is passionate and hypnotizing, at once like rain and wind on chimes of wood and glass. So I know the Winter Wren is there, but was not able to categorically match it to the "tick" call. This can be kind of frustrating!
This weekend we four Vincents did a substantial yard clean-up. The result is beautiful, and has stirred up lots of bug action for the birds. I even saw a Flicker out there this morning.

Lately I have been seeing Dark-eyed Juncos. There was a bird coming regularly to our feeder on the back deck, but I couldn't get a good look at it. I thought it might be a Chickadee, but knew it wasn't. Then one morning a little bird perched on the deck rail quite close to the window. We both froze, so I got a good close look at it and knew right then it is the Dark-eyed Junco that I sketched when we went on our guided birding tour with Phil! Now I can pick out the Junco on the running trails, its smoky dark hood, pink beak, and white-lined tail feathers as familiar to me now as the stripes on our family cat. It's wonderful to feel secure with a new identification. However, I haven't the slightest idea what the Junco's song is. I'm not going to worry about that, though - identifying the birdsongs will come with time.

(To Ally)
I will pay attention at the Discovery Park bird call class on Saturday to find out what the Junco sounds like. The class starts at 7:30 in the morning so I assume we will be searching out the live sounds of the birds. I hope I get to see a Junco then.
We had a very strong little wind storm come through yesterday. It even blew over a ceramic planter on the deck. I just can't imagine how birds hold on in something like that, but our regulars were out as usual this morning with their feathers still attached.

(To Mom)
I'm so curious to hear about your birdsong class. I imagine you all filing in like mute cattle, then when the class is over, soaring out emitting beautiful birdsong.

(To Ally)
Like operatic cattle? Luckily the weather is supposed to be good Saturday. We start early so it will be cold but at least not wet, according to the weather report. We'll all be bundled up though, so the comparison to cattle might not be too far off.

(To Mom)
Not operatic cattle! I meant to say I picture you going in as cattle, and coming out as birds. Like when you dump coins into the big, noisy change counter at the grocery store, and it comes out something completely different, a filmy little slip of paper quantifying the dollar amount.
The birds were crazy on the trails today! There were so many bird calls and flashes of wing that I nearly careened into a ditch. I interpreted the heightened pitch and activity as territory disputes. Two Stellar's Jays were having a fierce battle with several tough Robins. I rooted for the Robins. I was so distracted I failed to catch Tess before she rolled in a dead opossum. The ride home in the cab of my little pick-up truck was sickening. Tess wouldn't look me in the eye - she was so embarrassed.

(To Ally)
Poor Tess. What an awful compulsion to have.

And I can easily imagine the riotous bird business you are encountering on your runs this early spring. Just outside our deck door there was a Black Swift distracting our resident Crow this morning. I was suprised to see it out there, unmistakable in its size and outline, taking deep swinging passes several times before disappearing. Sure enough, the Birds of Seattle and Puget Sound book described days like this when it's clear but still cold as one of the rare times to see Black Swifts come low over the city to feed on insects in the air.

(To Mom)
A Black Swift! I don't know this bird at all.

Brides, Balloons, Birds and Guns

2010-04-22T16:21:00.000-07:00

Hi, Mom,

At work today I took a customer call from a film production company that wants to film a Seattle heavy metal band in our Sockeye Point Beach House. They informed me there will be men on stilts and some dwarves, but that they told the band to leave their glitter cannons and whipped cream guns back in Seattle.

(To Ally)

Woo hoo! Big time in Bellingham coming up! Too bad they aren't bringing their cannons and guns though. It's easy to predict the sticky mess that would leave, glitter and cream, but what a hoot to witness! I'll have to hear about this.

(To Mom)

The heavy metal band did not come to the Beach House after all! The Grand Chief of the Elks Lodge gave them a cheaper deal on rent. The name of the band is "Super Geek League". Still, it was a nice change of pace from 'The Brides" just to be able to discuss the possibility with the videographer.

(To Ally)

Who knows, maybe one of the brides will opt for whipped cream and glitter cannons someday.

(To Mom)

My brides are not allowed to do anything with glitter or guns. They are already too overwrought as it is. I had a MOB (mother of the bride) tell me, quite seriously, they did not want any Canada Geese on the grounds during her daughter's reception at the Beach House.

Wedding Crashers: Canada Geese

Hi Mom,

Take a look at the email below.

What next?!
Ally

March 20
Hi Ally,
We have reservations to use the Atrium for our daughter's wedding on August 21. The groom's parents have written to us, asking about releasing some doves (outside) as part of the wedding service. I would like to know if this is allowed.
Thank you for your help with this.
Shelly Straka

March 23

Hello Shelly,
Hope you are well.
In regard to releasing doves for the Atrium wedding, there is no rule against it. However, in the past doves have been attacked by the extremely territorial resident seagulls. It can be very disturbing.
Let me know if you need further clarification.

(To Ally)

There must be businesses that supply doves for ceremonies and people are enchanted by the sight of a flock rising into the sky, but I wish they would think beyond that point to what happens to the doves next. One time when I was on my way to your house, I saw a lone white dove perched on a wire near the freeway. Raised in captivity, fed a steady diet of commercial feed, it wouldn't have any idea how to survive out there, and what chance would it have against the eagles and hawks.

But on a happier note, are you deciding about our next bird trip?

(To Mom)

Heidi had the idea that someone could make a little business of "renting" their doves to wedding couples, then upon release, the doves would fly straight home to be rented again to someone else. Might work. Certainly would be better than horrified wedding guests witnessing the resident seagulls attack on the disoriented doves.

We were taken by surprise when one couple released 200 helium balloons at their Atrium wedding - it's so terrible for the environment and the wildlife.
Would you like to meet at the Skagit River Delta? The Owl & Woodpecker book by Paul Bannick mentioned there is some interesting action there in the spring.

(To Ally)

So, the Skagit Valley sounds fine. When can you get away?

I think it's only Homing Pigeons that will return to their base after release.

(To Mom)

Hmm... I don't think my brides would go for Homing Pigeons.

Meadowlarks and Coots - Debriefing the Fill

2010-04-21T09:43:00.000-07:00

February, 2010

(To Ally)
Right now I'm trying to get down some thoughts on our excursion to the Montlake Fill before I forget. I'm thinking the duck we saw was a Bufflehead instead of the Merganser. Look at the pictures in your books and see what you think. Also, I'm quite sure the brown stripy bird with orange on its wing was a female Red-winged Blackbird. The picture fits and so does the sound of her call. The birds we saw in the grass, I think, were Western Meadowlarks. I know we didn't notice any black on the breast but I didn't really get a good look at that part of them. The yellow throat, stripy head and white-edged tail fits. Also the habitat and attitude. According to my Sibley, It's a few weeks early in the year for the Red-winged Blackbirds to be active here, but that would make sense with the unseasonably warm weather we've had.

(To Mom)
I think you are right about the Meadowlarks! There is a series of signs on Chuckanut Drive that read, "Drive Quietly, Meadowlarks Are Singing".
I'll look up the other birds you mentioned.

(To Ally) I went online to find the song of the Meadowlark because it's so often praised and sure enough it's lovely. I hope we get to hear them sing sometime on one of our trips out.

(To Mom)

I have been studying photos of the Western Meadowlark, and that is definitely what we saw. Stunningly beautiful. They were utterly silent when we stood near them, so no song for us. I love how they moved just at the surface of the tall, brown grass, like ducks swimming smoothly in water instead of bulky birds walking on uneven ground. They strained to assess us, their necks stretched out long and thick, like nosy matrons with too many scarves on.

(To Ally)

That's exactly what they looked like. Ha! Smart, though, weren't they, to keep their backs to us so they were more hidden in plain sight. It was just a few flashes of yellow throat that gave them away.

I'm glad we had a bird book with us at the Jewel of India and could identify the black water birds we saw as American Coots, but I keep thinking about them. So Goth, don't you think. Red eyes and eerie thick white beaks that edged up their foreheads. Not bird-like. And we didn't even see their feet. They have bizarre feet, lobed like the Grebes but of a ghostly bluish color. Yet for all of that, they seemed so unselfconscious, just all-around good Joes going about their business in their weird Carnival costumes.

(To Mom)

You're right about the Coots. One of my bird books says they "associate with ducks" - what in the heck is that supposed to mean? We associate with ducks, too. The phrase implies something, I just don't know what.

(To Ally)

Ha! That is something to wonder about.

I'm reading a very good book of essays about birding at the Montlake Fill. It's called In My Nature by Constance Sidles.

(To Ally)

Maybe we will sight Constance Sidles the next time we're lurking around the Fill.

((To Ally)

Yes, maybe!

The Meadowlark I added to the vine picture has its beak open in what I meant to represent song, but instead it looks like it's berating your American Bald Eagle.

Montlake Fill - February 12, 2010

2010-04-20T08:35:00.000-07:00

Red-winged Blackbirds

Ally battled heavy traffic and steady rain all the way from Bellingham and I did the same across Seattle but we both pulled into the parking lot by the Fill at the same time. Hurray! Hello! Hello! And she teased me for looking like a Ninja Birder because I was all in black. It was still raining pretty hard so we hurriedly consulted out map and struck off in the wrong direction. Soon enough we came to a dead end and, after retracing our steps and asking for help, we got on the paved trail and walked into the Fill just as the rain eased up. Right away we saw several of our favorites - Robins, Starlings, and even a couple of shimmering green Humming Birds, but we were looking for something new. We watched a brown stripy bird with an orange smear on the top of its wing, but couldn't name it. At least we were able to nail down where the odd rattling trill was coming from though, for right in front of us she opened her beak and let loose. There was a Red-winged Blackbird nearby, and beside a pond there was a group of preening Canada Geese. But we were more intrigued by the strange-looking water birds paddling around in the pond itself. They were black with red eyes and luminous white beaks. What could they be, we wondered.

Western Meadowlarks

Then we caught sight of an unknown pair whose brown and black speckled feathers blended perfectly with the winter grass. They had rakish black and white stripes over the tops of their heads. Mostly they kept their backs to us, but checked on our position with glances over their shoulders and then we could see a flash of bright yellow throat.

Great Blue Heron

Further along the trail we came upon another pond, a wilder one with dead logs sticking up through the water and dead limbs reaching out from the low growth around the edges. There were several different birds to see in this pond, especially on a barren little island in the middle. Cormorants, Great Blue Herons - more than I've ever seen at one time - and several kinds of small ducks. One sort we thought were Mergansers because of their oddly shaped heads.

Green-winged Teals

There were also Green-winged Teals; the males looked like they'd been decorated with crayons by a child, their colors were so varied and unexpected. The females were, as usual, much plainer, except for a vivid green patch on each wing. Their diminutive size surprised me. One of them could have fit perfectly in my two hands. I guess I always expected a duck to be closer to the size of the domesticated white duck we had when I was young. The one that formed an attachment to our dog, to his embarrassment.

As we rounded the last curve in the path and started back, it began to rain again.

University Ave., Seattle

We drove to the Ave nearby in the University District and again found plenty of parking, to our surprise. The Haitian Cafe we were intending to try was closed, so we walked up the street to the Jewel of India and had a very good buffet lunch. There weren't many customers, and the server, a woman in a patterned rose-colored sari, was very attentive. Pots of ivy hung above from the high ceiling, and there were many ornate illustrations on the walls, mostly of Indian sweethearts. Pleasant sitar music played in the background and the place had a warm coziness after the penetrating damp outside. Ally was pensive, recalling the years she was a student in that neighborhood.

End in Sight for the South Park Bridge

2010-04-19T21:37:00.000-07:00

February, 2010

Dear Ally,

Yes, I'd love to come up on March 20 to stay with the kids. That's the day I go to the "Birding by Ear" class at Discovery Park but it's in the morning, over at 10:30, so I could come up soon after that. Put me down for it.

I'm getting called in to work a lot this week, three swing shifts in a row. You may have read in the paper that the federal grant to replace the bridge didn't come through, a real surprise because it's such an important business conduit. There is no definite information yet on what is going to happen, but it looks like they will close the bridge at the end of June. It's just too dangerous to keep in operation.

I took Pio's camera to work yesterday and tried to get an angle on some of the gears but didn't have much luck. Most of them are housed in metal enclosures and I'm not strong enough to lift those top-hinged doors alone. I think I got a good picture of the narrow metal catwalk we have to sidle along to cross from side to side though. I'll try to email the pictures to you, but you'll have to imagine the thundering traffic only a few feet overhead and the constant vibration of the whole structure which shifts to hard shuddering when a large truck passes over, which is often.

I talked to Nick and Angie a little while ago. It wasn't his business building that someone crashed a plane into in Austin this morning.

Love,
Mom

Cormorants on the Duwamish

2010-04-19T21:03:00.000-07:00

Upriver I noticed a large dark bird on top of a piling with its wings outspread, and surprisingly it remained in that position as still as a statue for quite some time. It looked like a high priest... or maybe a flasher. The sun was just beginning to cut through the early morning fog, and bird action of all kinds was picking up.

A noisy group of Canada Geese were puttering around the base of the bridge on the other side of the river and one flew up to the pilings just below my tower window and stood there to loudly honk some sort of important announcement.

There were the usual pigeons, crows, and gulls flying by and some Mallards dipping below in the water, but there was also a bunch of swimmers I didn't recognize. They were sunk so low in the water that almost nothing of their bodies showed. Their necks were long and curved back, their heads tilted up. When they plunged down into the water they completely disappeared for alarmingly long periods of time. I had to wait until my shift ended to consult the bird books back at home before I knew that they were Double-crested Cormorants. That had been what was spread-winged on the piling upriver, too. It turns out Cormorants, unlike other water birds, don't have water-repellent feathers, which allows them to dive deep and fast, but afterward they have to air dry themselves.

From Grebe Feet to Lady MacBeth

2010-04-19T20:10:00.000-07:00

(To Ally)
I believe what we saw yesterday was Western Grebes, Barrow's Goldeneyes, a Merlin, a House Finch, and one lonely little female Greater Scaup. What do you think? Too bad we didn't see the Grebes' feet; the dictionary says they have "lobed, fleshy membranes along each toe". That sounds interesting.

(To Mom)

Oh, the Grebes' feet sound marvelous! I suppose we'll have to get a look at the lobed, fleshy toes on a stuffed Grebe at the museum. I just remembered the Whatcom Historical Museum has a world-class display on birds. I went there with Cashel's class when she was eight. Let's go see it sometime.

(To Ally)
I'm afraid you're right that we may only see a Grebe's feet if we seek out a stuffed one in the museum. But maybe we'll get lucky and catch a live one out of the water someday. Did you agree about the identies of the birds we saw at the Taylor Street Dock?

Thinking it over, I realized we must have looked really odd staring so intently at those House Sparrows at the beginning of our walk. The problem was that it was the first time I used my new wonderful binoculars and I trained them on the brambles before I saw one of the birds without them, and suddenly there in my viewer was a huge bird, sparrow shaped to be sure, but so big... That fellow who passed by and was driven to get involved must have been wondering why I was exclaiming over their large size. They're just sparrows, he said, but in a very non-confrontational Bellingham way.

Hi, Mom,
I'm going crazy trying to figure out what bird I saw on my run today. It looked like a Spotted Towhee, except super-sized, bigger than a Robin. I see Spotted Towhees often, but they are very reclusive and usually in the underbrush. This bird twice landed quite close to me and stayed to assess me quite boldly. Also, it had a bright red cheek, which I've not seen on the Towhees. It also had a yellow beak. I'm pretty sure it had no white on its breast, just pure red. Can you look for it in your books? I've never seen it on the running trails before.

I completely agree with the identities of the new birds we saw. How exciting. The Barrow's Goldeneye is simply gorgeous. No doubt about it with the elevated forehead, and the matched identity of his female companion. So beautiful. I worry about the lone female Scaup, though. Especially over the holidays.

(To Ally)

Ha! That made me laugh: the Scaup over the holidays.

I didn't find anything in my books that looks exactly like what you've described. Flickers can have the red cheek, but you would have known if it was a Flicker. Could it have been a Varied Thrush? They are supposed to be around this time of year, but are "shy and elusive". Their markings are more orange than red, and they have a black breast band you would have noticed. The juveniles however don't have that band. Maybe it was a juvenile Varied Thrush.

(To Mom)

No, the Varied Thrush is not what I saw. And I know it wasn't a Flicker. I was able to study it closely for some time because it stopped nearly still just feet from me on the trail. I sketched it as soon as I got back to my rain-proof notebook, the one where you can't erase. Someday I'll figure out what it was. It's unusual because I see the same birds every day on my run, and have never even glimpsed this one. Tomorrow I am going to run with my binoculars in hand.

I keep eating all the holiday treats. I'm getting as fat as a Chickadee.

Black Capped Chickadees feeding their fledglings.

(To Ally)

I am getting fat on Christmas treats, too! Finished off Herminia's bebinka today, and I keep going back to the roasted buttered pecans and pumpkin bread. Sigh.

Hi Mom,

Cashel ate the pumpkin bread you brought on our birding day. Dave and I were in the hot tub, and Cashel poked her head out to say she was hungry. I said, "Have a slice of pumpkin bread." She ate the whole loaf, then was still raveous for dinner. Spared me those calories, I suppose. Headline: Teen Athlete Clears Kitchen Counter Of All Holiday Treats.

(To Ally)

I'm glad Cashel liked the bread. Goodness!

As for our dear Ms. Scaup, you have to wonder, if she was a Greater Scaup, how unassuming must the regular Scaup be? She looked so small and lost, bobbing up and down in the bay.

(To Mom)

Ha! I thought it was weird how we spotted her fifty feet away, watched her speeding toward YOU and ME in particular (there were plenty of other people on the boardwalk) as if she had something urgent to tell us, then she acted all nonchalant like she had zoomed to that spot just two feet in front of us to forage. She kept staring at us, too. Maybe she thought we were single gals like her, then could SMELL that we aren't when she got closer.

(To Ally)

More likely she smelled from fifty feet away that we were the soft-hearted mother sorts that might help in a pinch, like when your mate dunked down to get a meal and never came back up.

Today on the bridge I watched a pretty little Ring-necked Duck paddling around in the river, a male alone this time. After a while he moved out of sight and I went back to the crossword puzzle, but later I glanced out the window again and noticed what I thought was a chunk of driftwood. It caught my eye because it wasn't drifting with the current, so I looked more closely and realized it was a sea lion. It was treading water there with only its nose and eyes in view, slowly turning in a circle to scan the surface all around. I'd thought sea lions just ate fish, but if it was hunting fish, why was it searching the surface? I couldn't help but imagined a plump little duck getting pulled down from underneath and serving as the sea lion's lunch. This is a problem for us with bird watching, I'm afraid.

Several times a year all of us tenders meet to do maintenance on the old machinery and giant gears that work the bridge. First we have to clean out debris that has drifted down through the span grills and sweep away the messes the pigeons have made down there, which sometimes include nests with eggs in them. We're supposed to throw it all in the trash. I can't do it. I won't. Instead I scoop up any nest with eggs and tuck it out of sight nearby, hoping the mother bird will be able to find it. I would like to say, because I know you will understand, that this isn't sentimentality. It's because I am a mother myself and know what effort goes into producing and sustaining new life. I can't stand the waste.

So I guess it's like Lady Macbeth said, "Screw your courage to the sticking place." We're bound to see some things that are disquieting, that's for sure.

(To Mom)

You're right. Nature is beautiful, but not always pretty.

Lady Macbeth makes a good point on courage. However, she also said she would kill her own baby while at the nipple if the act assured access to power...

I'm glad you were able to study the sea lion. I'm sure your are right about it scanning the surface for lunch. I've been puzzling over how the Greater Scaup could have ended up alone, and the sea lion is a true possibility.

Why are you instructed to put even bird nests and eggs in the trash? Is that so tenders don't drop debris in the Duwamish? What do pigeon eggs look like? Can you take a picture of the giant bridge gears with your new cell phone? I'd really like to see what they look like. Very few people - but lots of pigeons and sea lions - get to see those gears.

(To Ally)

Yes, I'll try to remember to take some pictures. It's pretty dark down there though so I'm not sure much will show. We feel our way around more than really see what we are doing. And you are right about our not wanting to drop anything into the river. It's polluted enough.

I suppose we shouldn't take Lady Macbeth as a role model then. Not much of a lady.

Doddle from Ally's phone log at work.

Taylor Street Dock - Bellingham, Washington

2010-04-19T13:49:00.000-07:00

Colophon Cafe, Village Bookstore

(The original Taylor Street Dock was built in the 1800s and was used by a canning factory)

December 27,2009

When we began our bird walk on the trail to the dock, it was nearly noon, but sugary white frost still covered the grass, trees and leafless blackberry vines. It was cold and sunny. Boisterous birds chirped, clicked and whistled. The humans gabbed and called out with festive holiday trail-camaraderie.

We first watched House Sparrows feeding in the blackberry thicket, and flitting up to a nest in the crosspiece of a telephone pole. Then we spotted an exquisite House Finch, with luminescent rose-imbued red, like French sorbet. It perched for a spell at the tip of a small tree so that Mom and I could study it. And then with her new binoculars, Mom spotted a busy Bewick's Wren foraging in the underbrush. I listened to its call and was so glad to finally to be able to connect a bird to the mystery sound I hear every day on the running trails - a sound I had not been able to connect to a sighting.

Bewick's Wren

A Falcon did not leave its hunting perch high in an alder the entire time we studied the smaller trail birds. We were not sure what type of raptor it was until a wiry old woman walking her dog kindly stopped and told us it was a Merlin. She said she was a resident near the trail and explained that the Merlins are perennial neighbors. The Merlin faced the water with its back to us, every once in a while swiveling its head to aim its severe countenance our direction.

When we reached the Taylor Street Dock, we hooked arms on the frosty decline to water level. The dock was busier than the trail. A handsome pair of Barrow's Goldeneyes took turns diving near the rocky shoreline. Diving for shellfish? Both had steep foreheads, the male with an impressive black purple sheen to its head.

Western Grebes

A group of Western Grebes cruised slow and low in the water. Their beaks were long and narrow compared to the beaks of the Goldeneyes.

And for a long time we watched a lonely Greater Scaup. She came very close to where we stood on the dock. She was looking for more than food.

Split Pea soup board

Lunch was at the nearby Colophon Cafe. It looked impossibly busy when we stepped inside, out of the cold, but the service was so good it didn't matter. Mom had the garden veggie quiche with a harvest wheat bread roll and white butter, and a thick slice of sweet, warm, rose-tinted cantaloupe. I had the split pea "soup board" with a harvest wheat bread roll, hunks of crouton pillowed on the hot pea soup, looking very much like Scaups.

Humming Birds Can Celebrate Too

2010-04-17T17:14:00.000-07:00

December, 2009

Hi Mom,
On my run today sparkly frost covered grass and brush, and all the puddles had ice lids, but the birds were happy and busy because of the dazzling sunshine. Is it sunny in Seattle?

(To Ally)
We did have more sunshine today. Thank goodness we have these rare days of respite that make the long, dark, rainy days of winter endurable. Yesterday when I was walking back to my car on the top of Queen Anne Hill, I heard a chirping I didn't recognize that turned out to be a Humming Bird! That surprised me for two reasons: I thought they were only around in summer, and I didn't know they chirped like that. But it was cute, buzzing joyfully around in the sunny air. It landed on the bare limb of a maple tree and fluffed its feathers, looked around and then seemed to doze for a moment.

(To Mom)
Very interesting. I don't think of a Humming Bird as being vociferous. Birds sing to declare their territory, or to attract a mate; I think of a Humming Bird as being too decorous and reticent to do that, like a nun or a foreign diplomat. I realize I am imposing anthropomorphic traits on the wee bird.

(To Ally)
It's impossible for us to see animals of any kind except through the eyes of our own experience, don't you think. I have thought of Humming Birds as jewels set in motion (I read that in a poem I think) but watching that one obviously appreciating the sunlight made me realize it as a living creature not that different from myself. If we try too hard not to anthropomorphize, it seems like we may lose sight of that important fact. Anyway, we're lucky, aren't we, that we aren't scientists and can anthropomorphize all we want. From now on I'll be thinking of nuns and diplomats every time I see Humming Birds.

(To Mom)
Ha! Now you're making associations. I always think of you - and the beginning of our bird book - when I see Northern Flickers
I'm heading over to the Holiday Port Gingerbread Festival, so goodbye for now. Dave's brass quintet is performing at the festival tonight.
Love you,
Ally

Trumpeter Swans and Thanksgiving

2010-04-17T16:15:00.000-07:00

November, 2009

Dear Ally,

I mentioned yesterday that we'd seen swans on the way to your house, but with all the Thanksgiving bustle around us I didn't have time for any details. You know we were trapped in crawling traffic for more than an hour just north of Seattle, and when we finally broke free it felt like we were flying. The landscape had an eerie aspect though, with a heavy gray lid above and misty vapor threading through the tops of the dark evergreens on both sides of the highway. I was glad Raven was snug between Ebb and Keer in the backseat. But suddenly there was a wide green clearing on the left and scattered across it were white shapes that at first we couldn't identify. Most of them were too far away but when we finally passed one closer to the road we saw it was a Trumpeter Swan, a sentry I think, keeping lookout for the hundreds of others resting with their heads beneath their wings. What a stunning sight it was - we were speechless for a moment. A mythic creature appearing like that, it might as well have been a unicorn. It was thrilling.

I was on the bridge today wishing I'd brought along the notebook, now that it's in my possession again, so that I could reexamine the parts and pictures you added. You must have had to contemplate the Elizabeth Park fountain a long time to capture its intricacy. And now your Mew Gulls are making me laugh again and again, too.

We all enjoyed our trip up to your house for Thanksgiving. Thank you and Dave and the sweet kids for arranging such a happy get-together.

Love,

Mom

Hi Mom,

The Swan sighting must have been simply amazing. Just goes to show, birders don't mind getting stuck in holiday traffic.

I keep laughing about the gulls, too. Fact is, now I am confident identifying the difference between a Glaucous-winged Gull and a Mew Gull. I love that word "Mew". It is like a proper British nickname: "Did you get your invitation from Auntie Mew?"

What a great feast we had!

That hour we waited while you were stuck in traffic, the kids and I sat quietly in the living room reading and such (no TV). All prep work was done, and Dave was watching football in the rec room so he could attend to the turkey (does not classify a birding activity). It was quiet, and lovely, and slow - a perfect bit of holiday time with my children.

I made two more meals of your cornbread stuffing. I put fresh Pico do Gallo on the cornbread stuffing, and ate it with a dark green salad.

Love,

Ally

Ducks From The Bridge

2010-04-17T15:32:00.000-07:00

At twilight one evening from the bridge tower I spotted some nondescript ducks floating below and squinted at them for a moment, trying to think what sort they might be. Then I remembered the ancient binoculars inside the leather case that must have been fastened to the wall when the bridge was first opened eighty-five years ago. Huge heavy things, I lifted them out and moved back to the window and put them up to my eyes. What I saw nearly took my breath away. Mallards - their striking colors intensified many times over by the angle of the setting sun. And nearby a pair of Ring-necked Ducks, the male's golden eyes glowing in the rich chocolate-brown iridescence of his sleek head feathers. The female, more subdued, floating nearby. Beautiful. And if I hadn't been able to use the old binoculars, I never would have known.

Northern Flickers

2010-04-16T17:36:00.000-07:00

October, 2009

Hi, Mom. How are things? Super windy here this weekend. Leaves covered every inch of our lawn like tossed salad without the croutons.

(To Ally)
Will someone have to rake all those leaves? Everything is OK here. Do you have any news?

(To Mom) The kids worked with us until the leaf raking job was complete. The job was quick and thorough! Now I see why farmers had children - to help work the land!
I've been seeing Northern Flickers feeding in the ground cover on my runs. They peer so intently at me, different than other birds.

Poor Cashel came upon a dead bird on her leaf-raking section. Cricket is a formidable hunter. Right now our neighbors are being tortured, literally, by the agressive squirrels getting ready for winter. Our yard is a nearly 100% squirrel-less zone, which I attribute to Cricket and Tess. Wiley is home ill again, and I am deeply thankful the two animal beings are with him.

(To Ally)
I'm glad Wiley's two pals are with him, too. I wish he felt better.

You are lucky to be seeing Flickers. They are so beautiful. There's one that has been calling loudly from the telephone pole across the street, over and over the same two-toned call. We wonder what it means. They are the sort that seem nondescript at even a short distance away but show such stunning colors and patterns up close.

(To Mom)
I ran at 5:00PM yesterday instead of the lunch hour, and the birds were doing different things. There was not much flight or ground feeding. They were in groups high in the trees chatting happily and busily in chorus. I inadvertently flushed two Northern Flickers from high grass. In flight their colors are gorgeous. They don't make song when I see them on the running trails, not while ground feeding, nor while they cling to the trees and follow my passing with their intense stares. That makes me really wonder what your Flicker is saying.
I'm very much enjoying working on the birding notebook when I can. Wiley's make-up schoolwoek takes a lot of our evening time.

(To Ally)
Yes, I've noticed when our resident Flicker takes off from the telephone pole that it has orange under its wings. I wonder if that's how they got the name. And I've noticed like you that the birds have daily schedules. Our Crows, Jays and House Sparrows feed more in the mornings and I've wondered what they are up to in the afternoons and evenings. I don't think they ever go very far away.

(To Mom)
I didn't see any of the beautiful Flickers on my lunch run today. I was really looking for them so I could try and catch a bit of their song. Now that I study bird song, it amazes me that parrots "speak", that they mimic our spoken word.
Love, Ally

Camano Island State Park - September 2009

2010-04-16T15:32:00.000-07:00

Lack of information and experience leads to a close study of gulls:

Mom and I met in the Stanwood Public Library parking lot. We bundled into my truck and crossed the dizzying bridge to Camano Island. But then we were chatting so much we veered off course and eventually had to agree to pay attention to our map at critical junctures. Our hapless island tour was beautiful though - narrow roads through deep forest, then expansive open views of farmland.
After finally arriving at the park, we made a pointed decision to hike the beach. We needed to see some waterfowl! The waterfowl were not in consensus. There was a distinct absence of any birds at all. We didn't know why. We kept walking and talking,when up ahead we spotted a gathering of Mew Gulls resting on the sandy beach. Hurray! We sat ourselves quietly on a sun-warmed log to study these resting gulls. They sat so that the strong wind ruffled their feathers from behind. They would stand and stretch their wings, looking our direction with bored expressions.

We did not want to stir them to flight, so headed back the way we came. Then, viola! Mom spotted a Glaucous-winged Gull in command of a thick cannon of driftwood. It stood regal and purposed, quite a bit bigger than the sun bathing Mews. And as it flew into the wind, its beautifully orange webbed feet flapped behind like wet laundry on a line.

When it was time to go back, we got our feet wet scurrying around the last bit of bulkhead because the tide was lapping in.
We ate lunch at the Chatter Box Restaurant in Stanwood. The restaurant is housed in a small self-standing building under huge trees where the Stanwood village birds chatter constantly. Mom had the tomato wrap with chicken, sun-dried tomatoes and cilantro. I had "Tropical Madness" with slices of mango, pineapple, white onions, scallions, carrots, baby corn and fried tofu in the chef's special vegetarian sweet and sour sauce. It was excellent and we both had some to take home to our guys.

Chatterbox Cafe in Stanwood, WA

The Birds in Austin, Texas - Summer 2009

2010-04-16T13:54:00.000-07:00

There were Grackles everywhere, lean wiry birds with staring yellow-rimmed eyes, their beaks gaping to pant in the triple-digit temperatures. How can they live, I wondered, but they must be tough and adapted to the heat and drought. The Blue Jays I watched in the oak tree over my son Nick's fence were thinner than our Steller's, too. A male and a female, watching for cat food leavings in the dishes on the deck.

There were many birds around Nick's backyard, which is next to a wild area of scrub and live oak trees, but they flew around so fast I couldn't identify many of them. Lots of Mocking Birds and Mourning Doves, and once there was a Tree Swallow I caught sight of. The hot air pulsed with the keening of the Doves and the dry rasping screech of the cicadas.

Of course the omnipresent Turkey Vultures circled overhead. I never looked up at the white sky that I didn't see several riding the air currents. From that distance they looked lovely, great outstretched, deeply-scalloped black wings - but the one I saw up close at the nature center in Zilker Park wasn't pretty at all. It had a small naked wrinkled red head and a hunkering posture.

There were a dozen or so rescued large birds in roomy outside cages at the nature center, the owls up in the corners trying to sleep. It was a very interesting place, but hard to enjoy for long because of the brutal heat. Amazingly, though, while we were there a young wild Red-tailed Hawk flew into the park and settled on a limb next to the path within arm's reach of Nick, who was at first unaware of it perched there watching him. The rest of us gathered nearby and stood murmuring in awe as it turned its head back and forth surveying its surroundings with the severe expression hawks have. An animal caretaker nearby explained that it'd been coming into the park like that for several days.

Chickadees, Steller's Jay, and Sucia Island

2010-04-16T11:39:00.000-07:00

July, 2009

Dear Ally,
My bridge shift was uneventful, but I read this morning that a murderer is loose in South Park and I hope they find him before my next shift.
We're excited about the new mass transit line in Seattle and plan to ride the length of it on Wednesday in celebration of our anniversary. Yea!

Black-Capped Chickadees

(To Mom)
I've been seeing Black-capped Chickadees on my run! They don't fly off when I stop to watch them, so I can get a close study. They are eating bugs.
I still have your Seattle bird guide. I've read nearly every word of it. Do you mind if I take it with me to the San Juans next week? Then I will get it back to you.
Was the South Park murderer caught?!

(To Ally)
I'm glad you're reading the Seattle birds book. It's a good size for taking along. How long will you be in the islands? Will you be camping?
Chickadees are so pretty. Can you imagine how overrun we would be by insects of there weren't any birds?
No, the murderer is still loose. Where is Miss Marple when you need her?

(To Mom)
The Chickadees are tiny, and move so rapidly. I can get a good look only when they dangle to extract a bug from the seed pods in the trail trees.
Is the Jay still coming to your balcony?
We'll be in the Juans with our boat for about four days. Maggie's and Chip's families have chartered a big sailboat, and will be there for that time also.

(To Ally)
You'll have a wonderful time in the islands, I'm sure.
Yes, the Jay still comes. He (I think it's a he) likes to land in the tree that is up against our living room window and peer in, to see if we're inclined to put something interesting out on the deck railing, I guess. Yesterday he was carrying some fluff in his beak, and I wondered if they are building nests at this time of the summer.
I wish I could put more of a real bird feeder out on the deck, but I'm afraid birds will crowd around it and knock seeds to the floor and then fly down there to pick them up when the cat is waiting under the chair just hoping one of them will be so foolish.
There is a short article in the Times this morning about what different birds like most to eat. I cut it out but don't know if I'll ever be able to really use it. You probably have the same hesitation because of Cricket.
It was so much fun to ride the South Lake Union Trolley (they try to discourage people from calling it the SLUT for short) and the new light rail system yesterday. It won't really be much of a help to us, living where we do. But it's wonderful for folks who work downtown and live to the south, and it will extend out to the University someday.
Have a good little vacation!

(To Ally)
Hi, Honey. Thanks for the emergency information you forwarded to me. I hope your trip was good and the car didn't give you any more trouble. How was the sailing?
The big news is that Ebb and Raven are coming here in a couple of weeks for Ebb to look for work and, when she gets a job, to rent an apartment. Keer will come up later.
I know you're swamped at work - email me when you get a chance.

(To Mom)
WOW! That is big news. When does Ebb land in Seattle?
I am terribly swamped: August 2010 brides.
I'll write more later.

(To Ally)
Ebb and Raven will arrive after midnight on August 19. They will probably be at Cashel's soccer game the next weekend. It was fun to look through the photos of your trip online. What birds did you see?

(To Mom)
Let's aim for later in August for a bird hike so that you can concentrate on Ebb's arrival.

To my surprise there was very little variety in the bird population on Sucia Island, where we spent most of our time. Regularly I saw Robins, Bushtits, Eagles, and Great Blue Herons. Maggie and Nicole watched an Osprey dive for a fish when they were on a kayak outing. Was the variety so limited because of the season, or because Sucia is a small island? Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed watching the Robins. They are always in pairs, like our crows. In the mornings Wiley and I would go down to the beach which was empty of people, him to sculpt sand, me to read. I was distracted from reading by the Robin pairs feeding on the early morning sand fleas. They would hip-hop, spear a sand flea, hip-hop, spear another. They looked like they were stitching an even line of thread in the wet sand.

Echo Bay, Sucia Island

Elizabeth Park Summer Concerts and Squalicum Lofts

2010-04-16T09:03:00.000-07:00

Summer 2009

The Eldridge Historical Society hosts free summer concerts in the park on Thursday evenings. Mom comes up to Bellingham for at least one summer show. Pio can be lured by the food. We pack up the kids and a picnic blanket, and that's where we have supper! Pio sits on his portable 3-legged stool. The eclectic musical groups draw a variety of people: families with sticky little kids, dignified elderly couples, young couples on dates, unabashed dancers of all ages who relish dancing in grass.
We get supper at the Thai stand: tofu veggies on rice for me and Mom, spring rolls for Cashel, crisp chicken on a stick and spicy noodles for Wiley and Pio. For dessert, homemade Mallard's Ice Cream: vanilla for me and Wiley, green tea flavor for Mom, cookies-n-cream for Cashel, chunky praline for Pio.

A pair of American Robins cavort in the cold fountain water.

Birds and Bees, and one Wild Rabbit - July 30
Finally I saw a wild rabbit on the running trails today. They used to be a common sighting in the field where Wiley found his cat and named her Cricket; now that field is home to two huge warehouses called the Squalicum Lofts. The wildflower and blackberry thicket where the rabbits' warren was is gone. The swimming hole on Squalicum Creek where I used to take Tess to swim after each run is rendered unreachable. The last time we fought our way down there, I rescued a turtle that was trapped between the two rails of the ancient railroad track, now abandoned to the blackberries.

Dragonfly by Wiley

Now the city field (with a new baseball diamond) and trails are teeming with butterflies, bees, dragonflies and crickets. The busy insects swim around the wildflowers: corn flower blue with wide petals, sexy pink lingerie blooms, broad umbrellas of tiny white flowers, and purple thistle.

Padilla Bay Reserve - June 10, 2009

2010-04-14T18:17:00.000-07:00

I knew it was going to be a good trip when I pulled into the parking lot and saw a Raven, the first I've ever seen, on the ground near my car. A proud and fearless mien, sleek, dense black feathers, and an iron-strong beak. It was easy to see how Native Americans had to acknowledge the Raven in their lore.

At the Breazeale Interpretive Center Ally and I watched Barn Swallows arcing through the air, their long split tails making them easy to name. Inside the center we mingled with a rowdy bunch of 5th graders on a field trip to look at interesting displays about the Bay and all the creatures that make it home.

But actually, when we got out on the trail, we didn't see many of them. The tide was out and the mud expanse seemed endless, merging with the gray sky. It was clean fragrant living mud and we were tempted to tromp down into it. The first sighting we made was of a Northern Harrier that coursed low over the mud and gave us a good look. A big bird with a luminescent white stripe at the base of its tail. Beautiful wing span, graceful floating flight.

We saw lots of Gold Finches darting, and Robins (one accommodating male and female pair sat side by side for a few moments on a branch right next to the trail, like they were posing). And there were some sparrow sorts we never could identify.

One Yellow Rumped Warbler gave us a grand show though, alighting in an Oregon grape next to us as we sat on a bench having a snack. It was only a few feet away and seemed completely unconcerned by our presence. A young bird, we decided, its prejudices not fully formed yet. There it sat darting quick looks at the bugs that flew by and chirping a repeated call like "sneaker squeaks on a basketball floor" Ally said. A tiny, fragile thing. It rootled with its beak among its feathers and squeaked some more. We watched it for a long time.

But it was disappointing not to see the waterbirds we expected. The tide was too far out.

We were hungry after our long hike and the Rhododendron Cafe in Bow-Edison was busy and smelled good. Ordering was a little difficult though because the waitress was harried and completely rattled by our request to leave the leg-of-lamb kabob off the #13. Apparently lamb leg was the main point of that dish. So I switched to a small pizza with artichokes and Ally cajoled her into bringing a pita and humus sandwich. It was all good. We both ate every bit.

Then we enjoyed a look around in the little gift shop next door and Ally found an interesting hand-crafted wallet made of clear plastic adhered to magazine pictures. It was just the right size and originality for her.

A wonderful birding trip. The Raven was right.

Crow Observations - June 2009

2010-04-14T16:19:00.000-07:00

Pio and I have been watching the same crow family for several years now, setting out food for them on the railing of our deck. Their numbers have grown or dwindled from year to year and they were down to only one pair this winter. That pair is nesting now, though, so we expect to see some new crows this summer, but of course nothing is certain.

With all this crow watching, there are three conclusions I've come to:
1. Crows experience emotions.
One summer a crew "just doing their job" cut down a giant cedar nearby where a crow pair had babies in a nest. The sound of the saws was deafening and relentless, and when they were finally done there was dead silence until the two adult crows began to caw, over and over, an agonized cry that went on late into the night.
2. They are afraid of falling.
At least they start out that way. Another summer we watched a crow pair trying to get their two youngsters to fly. First, by teasing them with bits of food, the parents lured them out of the nest and onto limbs a few feet away from it. Then they positioned themselves on top of a building across a gap of fifteen feet or so from the tree and again showed food the young birds couldn't get without crossing that gap. The young ones cried out, but the parents didn't give in. The adult male put on dramatic air shows, flying in loops, demonstrating, I thought, what a great time the kids could have if they'd only try. Still it took all day. The young flapped their wings and made a few tentative hops but they were too afraid to let go. Finally, though, they did, with frantic flapping and clumsy scrabbling they both landed on the roof and looked around. After that they practiced going back and forth across the gap and by the next morning they were swooping around like they'd invented it.

3. They are pretty good cooks.
For their own taste, of course. A particular male consistently soaks his toast crusts in water before eating them. One day I saw him on the sidewalk next to a moss-covered embankment where he removed a plug of moss and stuck his head into the hole where it had been. He seemed to be examining something in there and after a minute he emerged satisfied and with his beak full with a sodden, moldering hunk of aged whole wheat bread. Yep, It's done, he seemed to say.

Song Sparrows, House Sparrows and Confusion

2010-04-13T16:12:00.000-07:00

May, 2009

Hi, Ally. The outing yesterday was so much fun and I appreciated very much the delicious lunch and my future good soup. The card you made is priceless! You are a sweet daughter, and an excellent birder. This morning when I stepped out on the deck I could clearly identify the call of a Song Sparrow coming from one of the trees across the street. Yea!

Consulting my two bird books yesterday, I became convinced the bird Phil called a Robin was really a Thrush. Could be wrong though.

Pio and I are going to see about taking the West Seattle Ferry over there for lunch. It's another beautiful day.

Love,

Mom

Hi, Mom,
I had such a good time too; I keep thinking over it, like a good movie or book. I too could identify the Song Sparrow on my run yesterday. Hurray!
I made two more meals of my beet/white bean/cabbage with corn tortillas and green salad.
And I, too, think that was a thrush. Maybe Phil was testing us. Although he did say he had a vision problem...
How was your West Seattle lunch with Pio?
I had to pick Wiley up from school at lunch today.

(To Ally)
That's right. Phil did say he's nearly blind in one eye. It's OK - he made up for it in enthusiasm.
Our trans-bay outing was great! The weather was perfect and we had a good fish-and-chip lunch right by the West Seattle dock. I was surprised the beach over there is so long and beautiful. There were already lots of people out, some wading but none swimming yet.

(To Mom)
I meant to ask you: why are we not supposed to point at the birds we spot?

(To Ally)
They say Crows (clever rascals) watch to see where people point in order to find other birds' nests. Actually that seems a little silly to me - Crows know a lot more about what is going on out there than we do.
Have you started working on the birding journal? Are you going to document our last trip to Discovery Park?

(To Mom)
I agree with you about the Crows. If they wanted to locate someone else's nest, they certainly could.
Oh yes! I've been very much enjoying working on the book. I've outlined three pages of sketches and notes on our bird tour, and will add the cafe. I'll mail you a copy of the outline. I sketch each bird we saw or heard, then study about it online. That way I feel like I really get to know it. Yesterday I thought about and worked on only Song Sparrows. I saw one flit up from its ground nest in Cricket's field while out with Tess. I knew it was a Song Sparrow because of the way it looked and the fact that they build ground nests! Today I am thinking about and drawing the Pine Siskin. Its stripy feather pattern is so much like Cricket's fur.

(To Ally)
Siskin would be a good name for a stripy cat. I haven't actually seen a Siskin, but on two walks at Discovery Park the leaders have pointed out the call. It does sound like a zipper... which is also a good name. Remember J.P. had a little black guinea pig named Zipper.
You are doing some fine scholarly work. I've got the House Sparrow down pretty good because of the one that is so busy around our deck, and the Song Sparrow call is easy now to discern, but generally I can't tell sparrows apart yet. Especially, I think, because the females lack the clear markings of the males.

Hi, Mom,
I have the same trouble with the two types of sparrows! Today I've tried to really watch their flight patterns. Not sure that will help me distinguish between the two types.
I remember the piggy Zipper. And I still dream about Oscar, our smart little piggy who was assassinated by the creepy Elizabeth Street spiders.
I drew "A Caprice Kitchen" today. Just love it. I think of you and me there. I drew it from the outside, not the inside. I added a birdie to the outdoor table. Don't know what kind of bird it is!
(Later To Mom)
By the way, I took Tess on a long walk after work yesterday evening. I made a point of staying still to study birds flying in and feeding on bugs in the leafy trees. I couldn't identify any except the Starling with its aggressive ways and bright yellow beak. For a long time I watched three different types of birds feeling on one tree: I have no idea what kinds of birds they were! Don't tell Phil!
Love, Ally

Discovery Park, Seattle - Bird Tour with Phil - May 9, 2009

2010-04-11T10:39:00.000-07:00

Field Notes

Pine Siskin

We decided to sign up for a Discovery Park guided bird walk, thinking the experience might edify us more as to how to learn to bird. So far, it's like we've been shopping for shoes in a hardware store, or vegetables at a pharmacy. We don't know how to look. We may suddenly spot a pair of shoes on some other shopper at the hardware store, and so far we get very excited and feel accomplished at having sighted that wonderful pair of shoes. We need help.

Our guide on the cold morning of May 9 was Phil. He had a scope --cool! Mom and I are not cool, but at least we are together. Our group converged in the parking lot at the visitors center. Phil pointed out Pine Siskins in the trees at the edge of the lot. A Pine Siskin is a type of Finch with a notch in its tail and a "streaky" (Phil's word) feather pattern. Its stripy feather pattern reminds me of our cat Cricket's fur. The Siskin makes a "zip!" sound - not a long, slow zip like on a thick, winter jacket, but a quick, short "zip!". The Siskins were in a flock, busy in the leaves and branches of the trees.

Brown Headed Cowbird

We walked slowly into the woods. (Mom and I thinking, "Woopee! Pine Siskin!" Everyone else was calm, coated in rain gear and optical equipment.)
Phil pointed out a Brown Headed Cowbird. Because it has the word "cow" in its name, I expected it to be much bigger, but it is a quite small blackbird. It is a little bigger than a House Sparrow. Phil said we spotted a juvenile male. It had a chocolate brown cap, its wing feathers shimmering black with sparkle glints. Its call is a thin whistle.

Mom spotted a Chickadee pair - Black-Capped Chickadees flitting in and out of a tree hole, moving constantly like fire fighters moving in coordinated rhythm to throw buckets of water on a fire. Phil set up his scope, and each of us were able to get a close look at the birds bringing bugs for their babies to eat. Hard work!

We watched a Dark-Eyed Junco kicking and flipping leaves on the ground with its slightly pink feet. Its beak has a pink tint also, and it wears a black hood.

Dark Eyed Junco

Orange-Crowned Warbler: This one we didn't actually see, but it was identified by its distinctive song. The group stood and listened to it for a long time. I loved standing silent with a group of strangers. Mom and I have found that birders are lovely people. They are quiet, studious, conscientious, delightful observers of nature. Meeting the type of people that like to bird has been a serendipitous perk for Mom and me, one that makes me think we were born suited for this journey.

on Northwest 70th Street in Seattle

Lunch was at "A Caprice Kitchen" on Northwest 70th Street. Mom had the fruit and nut salad greens with sliced pink lady apples, raisins, Camembert, and toasted hazelnuts. Mom's apple slices were so beautifully arranged we hesitated to eat them until the end - wonderfully tart! I had skillet potatoes: white bean and Valentina, roasted and sauteed red potatoes, cabbage, red onions, carrots, beets and two eggs scrambled dry. My beets were so fresh they tasted of the earth.

Steller's Jay

2010-04-10T17:40:00.000-07:00

Ally,

Leaving your house this morning, I heard a loud, raucous sound, metal on metal, like a rusty shed door grinding open and shut, open and shut.... There it was, on the top edge of the tallest house across the street, a Steller's Jay, broadcasting over the neighborhood, his proud crest outlined against the gray sky. I stopped to wonder how such a big noise could come from such a small creature.

Crows, Orphaned Birds, and Cricket the Cat

2010-04-09T15:11:00.001-07:00

April, 2009

Hi, Mom. How was your weekend? We had a good stay at the beach - in spite of the weather! I, myself, had an awesome birding time. I saw an Osprey, Blue Herons, Red-winged Blackbirds, and studied a nesting Killdeer for several days. These I will describe in the notebook. I also did lots of leisurely bird reading. Missed you, while at it.

Back at work, and it's real busy.

Cricket's cat sitter did a good job while we were gone.

What's your news?

Love, Ally

Hi, Honey! I wondered what would happen to Cricket while you all were gone. Did someone stay at your house or just come in to check on her? I thought about you often, wondering if you were seeing birds, and I'm glad to hear you did. You will have a lot to write in our birding notebook. I've had some interesting experiences with our crow pair, but haven't been out to see anything else. I will look up the birds you saw in my books.
We are fine. It's been pretty quiet around here. Pio is taking keyboard lessons once a week and practicing on the electronic keyboard I gave him for Christmas, but he's already thinking he needs a bigger one.

Is it raining in Bellingham? It is here. Nice. Gets rid of allergens.

Love, Mom

A bird watcher, not a birder!
Her fur patterns remind us of feather patterns.

(To Mom) Our friend, Nate, stays at the house with Cricket. He is a real cat person. He has two slob roommates out in the county, so he enjoys having our house to himself. It was cleaner than when we left!

I threw some toast out for our crow pair. I've been watching them build a nest in the poplar tree across the street. They were very happy for the toast.
Had any bridge shifts?

I'm looking forward to our bird walk. It's the day before Mother's Day, so we can celebrate our lunch together as mothers.

Sunny here today.

Wiley is home with a terrible cough. He's missing the WASL Test. Will have to make it up. Drat. At least no one was sick at the beach. Well, except for Vince's cancer.

(To Ally) I know Dave's dad feels better when his kids and grandkids gather at the beach.
Lucky Cricket, to have such good care, but I bet she missed Wiley. And poor coughing Wiley!
Oh, good. You have a crow pair, too. Or they have you. I think that's the way our pair sees it. They are making their nest on the other side of the building this summer, so I don't get to watch so much of the process. Nests are amazing things, aren't they. While I was on the treadmill in exercise class this morning I was looking at a nest in the cedar just outside the window. It's from last year I guess and I don't know what kind of bird built it. There's no bird action there now. It's a pendulous mossy bag sort about the size of a tennis ball. Amazing architecture.

I'm looking forward to our next bird excursion, too. Do you think you'll be ready to hand over the birding journal then?

(To Mom) Yes, I will give you the notebook when we meet!
Maybe that was a hummingbird's nest? I read that hummingbirds make their nests out of spider webs and moss and lichen. Clever to use another creature's product (the spider's web).

American Crow

(To Ally) No wonder a nest would survive intact for years if it has spider web woven into it. Do the best birding books include drawings of nests with each entry? The books I have do briefly describe where and of what nests are made, but I'd like to see a picture. I'll Google hummingbird nest and see if the nest I saw matches what I find.
So, if the crows are building a nest across the street, where did you toss the toast?
Your sister Ebb just called and told me a bird has built a nest on one of their apartment windowsills and laid two eggs, one of which has already hatched. They get to watch the process up close and the mother bird doesn't seem to mind at all. I think it's a dove, from her description. Is Wiley feeling better now?

Note to Wiley -- home sick

(To Mom) I am also very interested in nest building. The Killdeer I watched for days at the beach simply sat on its eggs in the driftwood and grass: no nest! Did you find some nice nests on Google?
I've been tossing old toast, etc. on our garage roof; the birds can easily get to it without Tess or Cricket bothering them. I'm not sure the crow pair are the residents of the new nest across the street. I'm guessing they are, though.
Lucky Ebb! Ask her if she or Raven will draw a sketch that we can add to our notebook.
Wiley feels a lot better today, but is still tortured by the cough. According to him, hot chicken teriyake is the best salve. That's what he is eating at this moment, thanks to Dave.
I was obsessed with our bird book last night! I can't wait to get it back to you so that I can get some housework done. Wiley almost always sits and draws with me, so that is lovely.
(To Ally) The hummingbird nests I saw on Google Images don't look like the one I saw outside the exercise room. They are anchored to tree limbs at the bottom, not hanging like a tear drop. They are smaller, too. Tiny. The babies must look like bugs.
I'll ask Ebb if they want to contribute to the notebook. She has called back concerned because the nest on the window ledge is so scant, but I told her that's the way some nests are and it doesn't mean it's not good enough. Like your shore bird's. Sometimes we find pigeon nests under the bridge when we are doing maintenance down there and those consist of just a few pieces of straw and feathers. Not very comfortable looking at all.
(To Ally) Ebb called distressed and in possession of one hungry birdlet and one warm jiggling egg, both of which had fallen off the window ledge and into the dog-walking area below. She had tried erecting a fortification around them but the mother bird wouldn't return, so Ebb brought them inside and wondered what to drop into the gaping beak of the baby. I had no idea, other than the regurgitated seeds and insects the mother might have provided, but Ebb didn't seem up to that production. So I suggested cooked cereal and yogurt.
I asked if she'd be willing to send a drawing by either Raven or herself to document the experience in the notebook and she liked the idea.

(To Mom) Oh, my! Cashel took care of a baby Robin with a broken wing - she rescued it from a neighbor's cat. We couldn't keep up with the worm search; the little thing ate constantly! We ended up buying worms at the bait shop.
How exciting. Just figures Ebb would fly to the rescue.
Cashel's soccer game is Sunday morning here in Bellingham. Do y'all want to come? Game starts at 11a. It's in a stadium with covered bleacher seating.

Robin fledgling

(To Ally) Well, the rescue was not successful. The bird died, which made Ebb feel bad. I don't know the status of the egg because Ebb had to hurry off the phone. Did Cashel's worm-fed bird survive?
I just found out Pio has a two-day Sr. Softball tournament in Kent this weekend so he wouldn't be able to come with me to Cashel's soccer game. Where does she play the next weekend?
Love, Mom

(To Mom) Oh shoot, the bird died. I'm not too surprised, though.
Cashel's bird, Ontario, died also. We kept it under a weighted open-air crate (so the cats couldn't get to it) in the top level of the tree house. The mother robin came to accept Cashel's involvement, and would sit in the tree limbs nearby while she fed Ontario. We went on a camping trip, and Cashel's friend took over the feeding. But I don't think that feeding was as consistent. Ontario died while we were away.

(To Ally) Actually I've never heard of a rescued baby bird surviving, except under zoo conditions. Ebb still has the egg, under a warming lamp, but we agreed this morning that it's probably not going to hatch. I told her about your worm procurements and she said she'd follow your example if the little bird does happen to emerge.
We are going to a Mariners game tonight. I always enjoy watching the seagulls that circle above, whether the roof is closed or not, waiting for the crowd to leave a bounty of scraps which they will try to beat the brooms to. They gather along the low walls surrounding the outside viewing areas, too, asking for French fries. It's always thrilling to have one flap up so close because they are so big, much bigger than the gulls I was used to on the Gulf Coast before coming out here. Remember when we read that book about the rabbits? Watership Down it was. Anyway, there was a seagull character in it who commanded respect for his size and that had puzzled me until I saw one of these huge northwest gulls up close.

Case Inlet, Washington

2010-04-08T15:34:00.000-07:00

April 8-12, 2009 at the Vincent family beach place

Nesting Killdeer

In near constant gray drizzle, we were able to observe nesting Killdeer over five cold spring days. The Killdeer lay their eggs right in the existing driftwood piles and the sea grass that grows on the rich peat moss. The nesting Killdeer is completely visible right out in the open.

To protect its eggs, the Killdeer would lure our dog Tess away from the nest by feigning a broken wing. Its act was convincing to Tess. Amazing.

The Killdeer is a bird I've heard and seen over the 23 years I've spent time at Dave's family beach place, but I never knew what kind of bird it was -- nor did I care. To watch it closely, then identify it in my new bird guide opened up a new world. Literally a new world, that of the bird. Now that I know what bird it is I can read about its habits and its habitat. Its habitat is the saltwater marsh where the fresh water from Colter Creek flows into the very tip of Hood Canal which is Case Inlet. Its habitat is our beach place; or rather, its habitat is the Killdeer's beach place!

The kids spent most of their time on the beach at a fire they built rather close to one of the Killdeer nests. The kids were not lured by the broken wing act, so the Killdeer resorted to rushing straight at them with furiously flapping wings and angry keening. This worked. Smart bird figured out a way to repel hearty Vincent cousins.

Osprey

Sipping champagne on the deck, an Osprey glided by, flying along the tide line. Tide just turned to go out. The Osprey was so close to us, yet made no sound. We were sipping the champagne, not the Osprey.

Great Blue Heron

Theler Wetlands is a saltwater marsh, a vibrant place that changes with the tides and the seasons. It is teeming with wildlife. I see birds everywhere, but don't know what most of them are. I saw a smoky Blue Heron so close I could watch its eye move as it watched me walk by. It seems to me that most types of birds are in near constant and frenetic movement, but the Heron stands very still for long spells -- that is how it fishes. Because of its hunting method, the Heron appears peaceful and wise.

The Red-winged Blackbird clings to the cattails, sometimes sideways, to extract bugs. It is exciting to watch the acrobat hunter.

A First Minimally Successful Bird Walk

2010-04-08T12:58:00.001-07:00

March 11, 2009

We walked some of the loop trail in Discovery Park at mid-day. We did not see an abundance of birds. We heard them, though, and anticipate learning the different songs. We heard a woodpecker drumming, but didn't find him.

Our best sighting was of a group of crows yelling and diving in unison at something in the tip top of a Douglas Fir tree. We watched and waited, then sure enough the crows flushed out a beautiful Red Tailed Hawk.

Red-Tailed Hawk

Lunch was at the Bamboo Garden near Seattle Center. Mom and I leafed through her new bird guide -- I don't even have one yet -- having no idea what we were looking at or looking for, like impostors pretending to be doctors or engineers. It seems impossible to identify a bird outside, then connect the identification to the photos and illustrations in the guide! Is everyone (seasoned birders) just faking it? We were able to hone in on identification of the Red Tailed Hawk because we saw the red tail feathers so clearly. I guess it is our first, and only, bird sighting and identification. Nevertheless, we are having fun. And we get to eat lunch together.
The big sign outside the Bamboo Garden says it is vegetarian, but it isn't only vegetarian food. Happily, I was able to take some chicken balls home to Dave, Wiley and Tess (dog) -- one for each. The boys seemed surprised that the chicken balls were what was gained from our new birding endeavor.

The Bamboo Garden restaurant near Seattle Center

Bird Watching from the South Park Bridge

2010-04-07T14:42:00.000-07:00

The Old 16th Avenue South (South Park) Bridge, Duwamish River, Seattle

Over a series of summer shifts as bridge tender, I watched a Glaucous-winged Gull pair nesting in the hollowed-out top of one of the pilings below the tower window. The nest became increasingly crowded with growing young birds. One particularly not afternoon with the sun so relentless the bridge span swelled and refused to close properly, I was touched to see the mother gull stand on the edge of the nest and shade her chicks for hours under her spread wings. Her beak gaped open as she panted, but she didn't move until the sun fell to a more merciful angle.

There is always some kind of bird to see from the bridge. Pigeons nest in the workings underneath, cooing comfortably as the hours tick by, and then making me gasp by scuttling out of the way at the last moment as the teeth of the spans come back together after an opening to let a boat pass through. One morning there was a Great Blue Heron standing on the top horizontal of the pilings, gazing mildly out over the water like an elderly philosopher. After a while he pulled up one pencil-thin leg and tucked his head under his wing and went to sleep. He balanced there against the laws of physics for the rest of my shift.

Skagit Valley Eagles Festival - January 24, 2009

2010-04-07T14:04:00.000-07:00

Asian Eagle Owl - original journal title page

Concrete, Washington

Our first joint bird outing. A chill, overcast day, with old snow banked along the sides of the streets. We arrived in our boots and layers with a plan to join a Volkswalk and observe the advertised Eagles along the way. An eager Volkswalker, with pins of walking achievement all around his hat, nearly snared us, but admitted finally that we probably wouldn't see any actual Eagles on the walk they'd arranged. So, after consulting the festival schedule, we joined a crowd waiting to see a Raptors program presented by the Ferndale Bird Sanctuary. That way we had the thrill and minor alarm of seeing a Bald Eagle up close, along with a Red-tailed Hawk, a Golden Eagle (with an 8ft. wingspan!), a Peregrine Falcon, a Barn Owl, a Great Horned Owl, and an Asian Eagle Owl. All of these Magnificent birds had been injured, rescued and healed, but are too permanently maimed to return to the wild. So it was an artificial beginning for our venture, but fortunate for us nonetheless because we were close enough to see these birds clearly and to sense their individuality, power and verve.

Ceramic Parrot from Lorenzo's

Over lunch at Lorenzo's Mexican Restaurant in Seedro Wooley we went over our notes, feeling a little thwarted as far as birding was concerned, but cheered by the Tex-Mex dishes. Delicious. We gave Lorenzo's five stars.

Original Journal Beginning Entry - Jan 2009

2010-04-07T08:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Ally,

It would be nice to be able to claim a lifelong interest in birds, but the truth is that for the first sixty years of my life they were mostly just part of the landscape, like grass. Usually viewed against the sky, they were black silhouettes in groups or alone, noted in an absentminded way according to how they related to whatever drama was taking place in my own life. Like the great silent flight inland overhead of hundreds of seabirds one afternoon that presaged a hurricane on the Texas coast. And the way the Chackalacks there would annoyingly wake the baby with their harsh calls and thundering stampedes over the roof. And how the Mocking Birds would swoop down on the cat as it crossed the yard, I thought for our entertainment.

Birds were always around but I rarely took an interest in them. It was like living in a house for years without realizing someone else had been living there too, living a life parallel to my own, equally unaware of me.

So what does it take to jolt a person out of such ignorance? For me it was a Northern Flicker. I was driving along a narrow back way here in Seattle, and slowly rounding a bend I saw him there in the street and expected him to fly, but he didn't. I came to a stop ten feet away and watched. He was intensely involved in trying to extract something from a crack in the pavement. For a moment he gave me one look of commanding irritation and returned to his effort. I'd never seen a more beautiful combination of color and pattern wrapped around a more singularly determined personality. And I was hooked. Life was taking a new direction and I wanted to go along for the ride. What I didn't know then was that I'd have such good company for the trip.

I'm very glad that you have decided to learn about birding with me.

Love,
Mom