Susan Gets Native

Harriers against the sunset

2012-01-16T20:08:00.000-05:00

This past weekend I enjoyed my first OOS Winter Raptor Extravaganza at The Wilds in Muskingum County, Ohio.
History of the Wilds:
(From The Wilds website)
Around the world, habitats are being severely degraded and overexploited-forests are being clear-cut, wetlands are being drained, and land-use patterns are changing to accommodate suburban sprawl, agriculture, and mineral extraction. Nowhere is this more evident than in southeastern Ohio where forests were destroyed to accommodate agriculture, and agricultural areas were subsequently destroyed by extensive surface-mining for coal. While subsequent efforts at reclamation were largely successful at restoring ground cover, controlling erosion, and providing areas for recreational activity, questions remain as to the biological functionality of these areas. What appears to be “green and lush” to the casual observer, may instead be an area of decreased biological diversity, with assortments of invasive species, and may not be returning to a functional ecosystem.

The landscape of the Wilds has undergone a series of major transformations, from the open surface mining to the reclaimed grasslands and now areas are being converted to healthy, high diversity meadows.

The Wilds is home to a diverse list of raptors in the winter, and I had heard about this event for years and decided it was time to bundle up and subject myself to Arctic temperatures and howling wind for the sake of seeing so many birds of prey.

Raptors seen this day:
Northern Harrier
American Kestrel
Merlin
Red-tailed Hawk
Dark and light morph Rough-legged Hawk
Great Horned Owl
Short-eared Owl

(And there were a bunch of songbirds around, too. I was more interested in the birds of prey.)

With very little narrative, here are some photos from the day.

It was cold.
Meeting point, in lower parking lot:

It was around 20 degrees as we all convened, with a wind chill of "Holy crap it's cold!"

Erik Bruder and other cold birders.

Tricia West! I was so happy to have her in our group. For all of our Facebook banter, we have never birded together.

Kathi!!!

Our fearless and tireless guide, Scott Albaugh.

The view at Jeffrey Point

Someone left me a hood ornament while I was out pacing through a pine stand looking for Long-eared Owls. The lower mandible of a six month old deer. Thanks a bunch, guys!

One of the highlights of the day was this:

The Rhino Barn. OMG.

Tricia acted like she pets baby rhinos all the time.

This was the Asian rhino...the ones with the prehensile lip. And this one kissed me. I loved it immensely.

This mama rhino enjoyed having her ears scratched, and leaned against the rail to get closer.
This was one of those moments in my life that I will never forget....and the back of a rhino's ear is softer than you would imagine.

Ack! Baby rhino!!

I took very few bird photos. The cold and wind and shivering on my part did not lend itself to good photography conditions.

But Scott pointed out and scoped this Short-eared Owl for me, and it was good enough to sit still for a minute or two.

The setting sun made a vista out of a field of hay bales.

Tricia got her life Merlin, spotted by Phoebe Thompson.

We welcomed the sight of the sun finally coming through the clouds, and said goodbye to it in nearly the same breath.

As harriers coursed over the fields in front of the setting sun, I was thankful for the heat in my car, the love and laughter of my friends, the dinner waiting for me, and the fact that I am a birder and can experience days like this one.

There aren't too many poems about Red-tailed Hawks. But this is a pretty good one. I mean, it's Yeats. Can't go wrong there.

2011-11-14T16:09:00.000-05:00

'Call down the hawk from the air;
Let him be hooded or caged
Till the yellow eye has grown mild,
For larder and spit are bare,
The old cook enraged,
The scullion gone wild.'

'I will not be clapped in a hood,
Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist,
Now I have learnt to be proud
Hovering over the wood
In the broken mist
Or tumbling cloud.'

'What tumbling cloud did you cleave,
Yellow-eyed hawk of the mind,
Last evening? that I, who had sat
Dumbfounded before a knave,
Should give to my friend
A pretence of wit.'

Williams Butler Yeats

Live feed from "Focus on Diversity: Changing the Face of American Birding"

2011-10-20T21:18:00.000-04:00

I'm attending a very exciting conference this weekend, "Focus on Diversity: Changing the Face of American Birding", in Philadelphia.
If you want to peek in and see what we are up to, there is a LIVE FEED and Chat Room function!
Here's the live feed...I'll try to walk by the camera once or twice and wave. Just kidding.

Watch live streaming video from r5broadcasts at livestream.com

What does a birder look like?

2011-10-15T18:55:00.000-04:00

There's been a recurring theme lately in the birding world, and this post has been slowly and steadily building in me. It's about birders and how the world sees us, if we even care about their opinion, and where we are going as a group.
It's been a mission of mine, at least informally, to wipe out the classic stereotype of "birder" or "birdwatcher". Just look at the header of my blog. I've never ever been considered "uncool" or a "nerd". And frankly, I hate labels anyway. But to make things easier for all of us, we do tend to lump people together.
So for the sake of argument, let's just accept the fact that there are labels.

A non-birder, or anyone who has seen a movie or TV show depicting birders, knows the stereotype.
Nerdy, nooby, contemptible and socially awkward people who wear silly pants and/or hats, wear binoculars around their necks and spout the Latin names of birds. That sounds familiar, right?

What part of that description is accurate for EVERY birder you know?
"wears binoculars around their necks"

I won't get into the psycho-social aspect of labeling and stereotyping, but I've learned that even if a stereotype is a positive one, it can still be harmful in the fact that it lessens the individual it pertains to. It limits your ability to see the whole person.

The Big Year came out yesterday, and it kind of felt like birders came out, too. I enjoyed it immensely and didn't care that they got a few things wrong. It's a work of fiction. But I liked the story pulse behind each main character. Crazy about birds? They sure were. Prissy, Latin-spouting noobs? They sure weren't.
Lots of birders were in a froth about using it as a springboard to bring in more birders, and I think that's valid. But I stayed out of the discussions that quickly degenerated into nit picking about bird IDs. It's a MOVIE.

What about the ABA? An organization that is supposed to be for us, by us? Have they represented us well in the past? It seems not. I was ignorant of the ABA until Jeff Gordon took the helm, and most of what I have heard has been the same...."I feel that it isn't an organization for ME. I don't do hardcore listing or get into fights about wear on a gull's tertials." I hope that birders will see the ABA in a different light, to forget about the stereotype that seems to be following the organization. I'm a member of the ABA. Does that make me a hardcore lister or rude know-it-all?
There was a little kerfuffle on Facebook a few weeks ago...I was talking about a certain bird we all saw at Ottawa NWR, and someone wanted to see photos. I chose not to post them, because they did not capture what we SAW through our binoculars. It rapidly spiraled into a war of doctrine and flat-out rudeness, from someone I don't know personally. When I said that this kind of thread was what was wrong with birding, all Hell broke loose. There was even a threat made by this pompous birder to use the thread in an article. This seems to be a facet of the ABA that lots of people recognize. The snooty, uptight and belligerent tone that some "old school" birders affect just rubs me the wrong way. Isn't this supposed to be fun? Sure, there needs to be record committees and people who keep track of stuff. But what about the joy of it all?

(This next part has to do with race. Please spare me any gripes about my verbage or labels. I'm the most non-racist person in the world and I am using typical terms for people of colors and creeds different than me, so just don't go there.)

Another aspect of this theme is diversity. Okay, birders. Count on your hands ten birders you know. Now, put down a finger for each non-Caucasian birder you named. How many fingers went down?
I know lots of different people. All colors and nationalities. But I know zero non-white birders. No African Americans, no Latinos, no Asians...everyone is very much like me. I've seen black and Latino birders, so I know they exist. But they are so few and far between they are noticeable. I think most birders, or even just decent people in general, would be highly offended to think that their hobby is all-inclusive, snobby and white-elitist. But it's a fact that we tend to be white, middle to upper class folks. "Tend" to be....and that's the problem with stereotypes. None of us "tend" to be anything. We are what we are.
I'm attending the diversity conference in Philadelphia next week and I am excited to learn about what can be done about the disparity. To understand it more, to change it, to bring more people of all sorts to the wonderment of birding.

I leave you to think on this, but in closing, I am including photos of birders. First, think of the stereotype. Then look at the people. Then put the stereotype down and never pick it up again.

People photos from the Midwest Birding Symposium

2011-10-08T21:22:00.001-04:00

I'm going to spare you my excuses for not updating my blog more.

So September brought the Midwest Birding Symposium in Lakeside, Ohio. My arm got twisted (Thanks, Jeff!) and I am so glad I gave in. Not only was it a birding event, it was full of faces I wanted to see, people I love to spend time with, and lots of new and wonderful people to meet.
There are a bazillion photos to share....here are about, oh, forty of them.

First, Palito:
Palito got to meet lots of new people and see new places...

The Black Swamp Bird Observatory!!!

Ottawaa National Wildlife Refuge!!!

He got to meet (and be blown on by) the President of the ABA!

And Liz!!

Palito doesn't like cole slaw. He's an owl.

The Birder's Gang Sign:

He got to meet Kim Kaufman! He was so nervous.....

And Barb!

And Sherrie!

And beer!

And Gentleman Jack!

Here, Corey taunts him with a knife.

And now the people:
Okay, I was totally innocent this time. I was INNOCENTLY taking photos of Lynne and Kathi, and what happens? Up goes the FINGER.
And look at the hairy eyeball she is giving me too!

Okay, funny story. Al Batt told a hilarious story the last night of the symposium, and here's a short synopsis:
When he was a teenager, he and a friend let some Muscovy ducks loose in their high school. They put tags on the wings of FOUR ducks: Duck #1, Duck #2, Duck #3 and Duck #5. And the next day, the school was in an uproar because they "couldn't find the last duck".
Well, we found Duck #4!

The Rain Crows!

Striking a pose (and getting photos taken of me at the same time)

Ann Oliver's KICK ASS shoes:

Bacon!!!! Yes, he's a people!

I went birding with the guys, and it was so great....
(Corey Finger, Christopher Ciccone and Greg Miller....yeah, THAT Greg Miller!)

Corey liked the back of my car.

Here's Kathi being all volunteery at her post at the information/registration booth:

Sherrie takes a photo of a cool spider as Greg and Scott share a laugh:
(I can't link to Scott because he doesn't have a blog. Poor, poor dope.)
Greg was so fun to talk to. Imagine someone taking a piece of your past and after it gets written as a book, then becomes a movie! That is so rad.

Ah, the boat ride on Thursday night. Lynne and Ruthie had JUST gotten there as the boat was leaving.
It was a fun, albeit rocky trip. And it was GREAT to finally meet Ruthie...we actually got her to Ohio!

Oh, and here's a random bird photo:

Do yourself a favor and mark your calendars for the next Midwest Birding Symposium....
In 2013!

Introducing my new mascot

2011-08-23T22:06:00.000-04:00

A few of my birding friends have mascots. Little stuffed animals or toys that accompany them on their travels, who are the subject of photo shoots at ever-changing locales.

Well, I wanted one too. I'm special enough to have a freakin' mascot. I was going to get the BEST mascot. A PROPER mascot.

I laid out the idea on my Facebook page, and among the more racy suggestions, a friend reminded me about my Mom's owl collection. Mom gave me lots of her old owl knick-knacks and sit-abouts when I started at RAPTOR, and one in particular came to mind.
(Little owl figure...sounds perfect for me, right? Wait. It gets better.)

Back story:
About 30 years ago, Mom got a present from a friend, and when she opened it, it looked for all the world like a small ceramic penis. As it turned out, it was upside down and it was really a terra cotta owl from Mexico.
But the back of it....yes, it resembles a penis.

So I had a little owl with an (albeit unintentionally) obscene body part.
(Sounds perfect, right? Wait. It gets better.)

Now this little thing needed a name. Not just any old name like George or Stavros or Boris. It needed a Latino name. Preferably one that captured the true essence of this singular item.
(Yes, I wanted it to give a nod to the phallic nature of the thing.)
Doug, one of our newest members of the Flock, came through for me. I described it to him, and his suggestion was "Palito". Which means in Spanish.....wait for it....
Little Stick.
(Sounds perfect, right? Wait. It gets better.)

So. Obscene yet cute owl, named Palito. I took him to Starbucks with me this morning for his first photo shoot with one of the baristas.

Rachell, a favorite of mine. And as dirty-minded as I am.
She looked him over, and said, "It's a whistle?" I laughed and said, "No...of course not.". Then I looked at the holes in the back. And put the obscene part of the owl in my mouth. And blew.

Well, I'll be dipped. He IS a whistle.

So I have a mascot in the shape of an owl, with a backside shaped like a penis, named Palito, and you can blow him. Perfection. It made my day.
(What cracks me up to no end is the....look of utter terror on his face. Makes the locales seem so sinister)

Palito's first day out consisted of:

Sitting on a fallen sycamore tree by the Little Miami River...

Wondering if he was brave enough to go for a swim...

Meeting a tiny toad.....

And also meeting Hooper....

He went with me to pick up dinner.....

We kicked back in the hammock for a bit....

He climbed a tree.....and immediately thought, "Holy crap!".....

He was terrified by the young milkweed bugs.....

And the lone milkweed tussock moth caterpillar.....

The monarch caterpillar made him feel faint....

The purple martin house (vacant) perplexed him............

He wants to know what kind of gall this is...........

And he thought he could be brave enough to explore on his own, but he's just too terrified....

So that's Palito. Look for him at birding festivals near you! And let's see how many famous birders I can get photos of while they are playing his whistle.

Go find a KITE!

2011-08-14T19:27:00.000-04:00

For the second year in a row, a small community in rural Eastern Ohio has hosted "Kite Day", a special opportunity to view confirmed nesting Mississippi Kites. Now, if you aren't a birder...

1. I feel so bad for you. The wonders you are missing out on...
2. Come hang out with me. I'll turn you onto birds....
3. You might be thinking, "Pfft. Whatever. What's so special about some birds making babies in rural Eastern Ohio?"

Here's why it's so special. As the name implies, this is a bird that is found in the southern U.S. Its breeding range is roughly from Oklahoma east to South Carolina, into the southern states. They winter in interior South America. The birds we saw today are in OHIO.
Okay, so it's a big deal.

When Kite Day was advertised, Kathi got our names on the list (the nest is inside a gated community and they were gracious enough to allow a small number of birders in today). She was good enough to drive us out to the site and it just added a fun element to what was a stellar day. When we drive anywhere together, we are blah blah blah for hours. Helps the time go faster.

Should we just get to the photos? Yes, let's.

We drove in, parked, and followed the other birders. And there was the chick, teed up in a tree, pretty as you please.

LIFE BIRD # 244. And LIFE RAPTOR# 18 (not including vultures)
WHOOT.

The recently fledged chick just sat in the tree, and as one of the adults came into its line of sight, it would start to call....which made my heart melt.
Here's a recording of their call:

Here's Kathi, with her "I'm a serious birder, so it's important that I turn my ballcap backwards. 'Cause that's how I roll" pose:

We also got to see Heather of the Hills!!

And Jim McCormac (he's behind the scope):

We watched over and over as the adults would bolt into view and hand over a fresh cicada to the calling chick....and then got to watch the chick nom nom nom on the thing:

The adults were busy, even with just one chick to feed. Constantly hunting for cicadas and other little critters to bring in.....

And then I was finally looking at the right moment with my camera raised when an adult came in with food.
Check out the rufous shine in the adult's wing. They aren't just black and gray birds....A lot of color hidden in there:

I'm a happy girl. It's been a LONG time since I got a new raptor on my list. And this was extra special, being able to sit and watch for so long, actually getting to "know" the birds.
Thank you, small gated community in rural Eastern Ohio, for hosting this day for us!!

Duck nuggets and pellets

2011-07-09T20:52:00.000-04:00

I was at the Midwest Native Plant Conference today with some of our birds.

Invariably, someone asks, "Why have raptors at a native plant conference?" I don't answer the question for them, I let them answer it themselves.
Put native plants in your yard.
This attracts lots of great insects and other animals who depend on the native plants.
Raptors and other predators come and eat the prey that is attracted to the insects, etc, that are attracted to the native plants. And the balance is achieved. Easy.

So enough about native plants for now. Let's get to the gravy of my day. I'm going to keep the words short because frankly, the photos and video stand well on their own.

I set up by some doors that led to a courtyard. Well, there were ducks. A mama duck and BABY DUCKS.
Baby ducks are my Kryptonite. This loud and obnoxious gal turns into sugary goo when baby ducks are involved.

Here they are:

And after all the squealing and melting was done, I went back inside, where Sylvester was trying to cast a pellet.
Check out the laughing in the background...this woman seems to be a little bit off-balance.
But anyway....pellet time:

The Voice

2011-05-19T22:06:00.000-04:00

I could have put a million images into this movie, but the song is only so long....

And I can never adequately express what this festival means to me. Or what these people mean to me.

We interrupt these posts about New River, to bring you a dumb.

2011-05-17T22:45:00.000-04:00

The other day, I was sitting in the park around the corner from RAPTOR. Not a great day weather-wise, but a nice place to get my paperwork done before picking up the birds for a program.
There were plenty of birds to listen to....towhees, cardinals, a parula, and the high thin whistle of broad-winged hawks. If you think you've never heard a BWHA, think again. You might have just thought, "Oh, that's some songbird". Their call is very un-hawk-like:

Have a listen.

So I'm enjoying the avian ambiance when I notice something on the roof of the shelter at the end of the parking lot.
Huh. Too big to be a leaf. Looks....sort of bird shaped.
Aw, hell. Is that a hawk???
(For the record, it really and truly did look like a headless hawk)

I squinted hard. And then my mind turned it into an injured broad-winged hawk. A hawk that needed my help, by Gawd!

I took a few photos of it, then got out of the car to plan my next move, namely how to get on the roof.

I was just about to try and drag a picnic table across the lawn when I stopped. Wait....it didn't have feathers. It had a .....husk.

Oh snap. It's corn.
I was about to risk life and limb to climb onto a roof to rescue corn.

You Verklempt me.

2011-05-14T23:58:00.001-04:00

More from the New River Birding and Nature Festival!!!

Remember the last scene in Jerry McGuire?

"You.....complete....me."

If you don't remember it, just think back to before Tom Cruise went bat-shit crazy permanently.

Well, it's a good segue into my post tonight.

Muddlety Magic:
So, Saturday of the festival was Muddlety, my absolute favorite trip of all. For a refresher on my first day at Muddlety back in 2009, go here. Seriously. Go read that post. You'll understand the title of this post better.

This time around, we got Julie as our guide (plus Rudy, who comes up in a later post) and Geoff Heeter. Click here for an interview with Geoff.

The weather was fantastic. The group was fantastic. The guides were fantastic. The birds were fantastic.
I guess you can see a theme here, right?
Blah blah blah.
It's hard sometimes to really convey the wonderment of this place. It's not only birdy, it's also full of butterflies and very cool flora, and if you're lucky you might get a bear. Bear. BEar. BEAr. BEAR!!
:)

I was yet again verklempt. Choked with emotion, holding back tears all day. This special place just rips me apart on the inside, and as it goes through me, sews me up again into something new.
I warned Beth R. that I would be a mess, and she warned me that she would be a mess.
And she gave the quote of the day: "YOU VERKLEMPT ME."

Let's run through some photos. And you may notice a lack of bird photos. Well, I'm still working on my new camera. There are too many settings. And the camera has a higher IQ than I do.

We couldn't have asked for a better day.

Geoff Heeter, our host with the most.
(This is his Serious Birder face. I was so shocked to see him actually being serious, I had to get a photo of it)

Rudy, who is nearly 7 feet tall, avoids Warbler Neck all together by just laying down....

Nina, down alongside the road, as usual. :)

Beth G., with a big bus and a big lens.

I like lichen.

Can't remember which Azure this is....

Beth Russell has spent five years trying to get a look at a Cerulean Warbler. Here, Julie is trying to call one in....
And finally, down the road.....we got it.

When we got back on the bus, I made Beth do the Life Bird Wiggle, which she did...with some extra "White Girl From Philly" Flare:

We flushed a turkey from her nest along a hill side, so Doug and Julie hopped up the rocks to take photos of the thirteen eggs, well hidden in the brush.

Where lunch is served.

British Soldier Lichen (and a bit of deer fur stuck to it)

Everyone jumped out of the bus to take photos of this...a pile of coyote scat covered in butterflies.
If you don't know about why butterflies do this...the males need certain minerals to complete their reproduction cycles, and this is why you will find hordes of them at puddles of mud and piles of poop.

Slow motion video of the butterflies getting their tasty on:

The largest Tulip Popular tree in West Virginia:

Geoff loves this tree.

Laura loves this tree.

I love this tree.
We all love this tree.

I love this place.

Some birders should not botanize.

2011-05-10T22:56:00.001-04:00

I'm starting my posts sort of in the middle. I have to go with what moves me, and I've tried to write a post about ten times. It's just ridiculous.

So I'm jumping in right on Thursday morning. It was a good day, because all of the Flock had finally arrived.
Oh, I never did a list of the Flock this year, did I?
Here you go:
Dawn and Jeff
Nina
Heather
Kathi
Lynne
Moi
Laura
Jay
Doug
Vicki
Diana
Beth G.
Beth R.
Donna
Mary Ann
Debra

SEVENTEEN of us. Scattered between the Farmhouse, the hotel, a motor home and two separate cabin rental places.
Most of us were there all week, but we had some stragglers.
Beth R. and Doug came in Wednesday night, so Thursday morning found us Birding by Butt on the Opossum Creek property. After getting my lifer Black-Billed Cuckoo:

(thank you, Julie!).....the three of us decided to go see this cool flower that Nina had found earlier in the day.
We hadn't even gotten to the top of the driveway before the shenanigans had started.
For the record, I wasn't really sure that Doug knew what he was getting into. He's a friend of Mary's and has heard all about this festival for years, and while he's a grown man and can take care of himself, I still worried. I mean, the Flock can be pretty raunchy and off-color, if you know what I mean.
Turns out, I didn't have to worry at ALL. He fits right in. Beth was slinging jabs at him and he was batting them back at her like a pro.
They actually made me blush a few times, and we all know how impossible that is.

Oh, yeah. The flower.

So there we are, trudging up the hill to find this tiny yellow flower. A yellow lady's slipper, to be exact, a small, pretty, native orchid.
I've seen lady's slippers before, but I wasn't sure if Beth or Doug had. So I tried to describe it. And unfortunately, I compared it to a scrotum. Well, you'd have thought the two of them were gonna die.

Now, look at this photo....it does look, well, sack-like, right?

So yeah. The fact that I said the word "scrotum" was enough to keep them going until we actually found the thing.
A very small, but gorgeous flower.
Then.
One of them (not sure who) said that the curly thingies on the sides looked like peyos (also peyot, payos, payess, peyess) on a Hasidic Jew.
And then it began again. They lumped it all together and came up with a combination that I am frankly afraid to type.

During the commotion, Beth decided to toss her camera down the hillside. When we had all wiped our eyes and took some deep breaths, Doug did the chivalrous thing and went in after it.
I really don't remember what he was doing as I took this photo, but I remember laughing hysterically about it. Remember, this was mid-week already. I was hung over and running on about 3 hours of sleep a night.

And as her camera was being retrieved, Beth got to hold Doug's big huge long lens.
Is it really necessary to add that this sent us around the bend once again?

Ooooh, two-handed hold there, Beth? Wowsa.

New River 2011 People pix

2011-05-02T21:53:00.000-04:00

So it's begun...the New River Bird and Nature Festival. It's only day one, so we don't have a bounty of hilarious stories and photos yet.

It's been a long day, so for tonight I'm going to just show some people photos, so you all can see who's here:
(I don't have photos of everyone yet....and some of the ones I do will get me in trouble)

Laura:

Dawn:

Nina and Lynne:
(I don't remember what was going on. But I bet it was hilarious)

Sigh....Mary Ann and Debra.

First night together....a toast to the Flock and to nature blogs!

More to come....much, much more. We haven't even STARTED.......

A new toy

2011-04-26T19:17:00.000-04:00

After taping my camera together since the last time it was broken, I really thought I could get by with it. It still took photos. The camera was just ugly. Then, the last straw: The shutter button fell off. I tried to repair it with rubber cement, but the mojo was gone.

So goodbye Dear Sony, who got me through 2 NRBNF, and 2 trips to New Jersey, countless bird walks around here, and some good years with the girls.

But I shall not mourn. Because I got a new one.

A Nikon P500. This is a point and shoot camera that thinks its a DSLR.

I still have to figure out all the settings, the bells, the whistles. But I'm very happy with it.
36x zoom. Crazy macro. It's just overwhelming.
Here are some preliminary shots:
(We haven't had any sun for about 2 weeks, so the light has been BLAH.)

The beginning of a serviceberry

Blue Jay (from about 30 feet away)

Peek-a-boo carpenter bee on the mailbox

Jake, my favorite Starbucks barista

The girls at the end of the driveway (they were about 100 feet away)

Kermit

Spring-Beauties

Garter snake, I think....he didn't want to be photographed

Honey bee on grape hyacinth

And a Prothonotary Warbler, singing his bright yellow butt off at Lake Isabella.
SWEET SWEET SWEET SWEET!!!

Bird. Drink. Eat. Laugh. Drink. Repeat

2011-03-29T19:09:00.000-04:00

This is my third attempt at a post. The first two times, I was trying too hard and it came out stiff and unnatural. And boring.

Spring is here. Time to talk about the New River Bird and Nature Festival, and all that comes with it. I could write in a professional and solemn style, but who are we kidding here?

Sure, it's about the birds. Glorious warblers and thrushes and sparrows and some raptors thrown in and so many others. Lots of birds. LOTS.

Sure, it's about the guides. World-class guides. Both "big" names and local experts.

Sure, it's about the food. Hot breakfasts packed with protein (BACON!), spectacular dinners, cold but yummy lunches perched on a rock in the middle of nowhere. All of it is good.

But what's the real reason I go to this festival every year? What's the cherry on this fantastic sundae?

The Flock. (Click HERE to read about The Flock)

Though the beginning of The Flock was on the shores of New Jersey back in 2007, the ball really started rolling in 2009 when we all signed up for our first New River festival. Stayed at the Farmhouse, keeping late hours and peeing in raspberry canes. Gossiping into the cold night air on the front porch swing with Laura.

And this year, the group grows more. It's going to be insane fun, even more laughter, even more people to love. Hear that fizzing sound? That's the promoters taking lots of Alka-Seltzer.

There's so much that I have written about this festival. So if you want the real dope, go to this list of NRBNF posts. And if you want to join us this year, it's not too late. There are, as of right NOW, five spots left for each trip. And lodging options are still open....a few, anyway.

I am packing Poise this time.

A new Me. (Or an old Me, revisited)

2011-03-23T23:03:00.000-04:00

I'm not one for maudlin and weary posts about what I did or did not accomplish in the previous year. I usually just list what I did and move on to the next circuit around the sun.
As I celebrated my 38th birthday at the beginning of the year, I found myself frankly shaken by the number. Thirty eight? WTF? When did this happen? I feel like a 20 year old. This is wrong. Someone made a mistake.
But there it is. If you're born in 1973, it stands to reason that in 2011, you would be seeing forty not too far down the road. My fellow Flock members and anyone else reading this blog are free to roll your eyes, and call me a baby and tell me to put on my big girl panties.

But.
You were here once, weren't you? Approaching forty and wondering how it could have happened? Feeling a bit like time was running out to do something crazy, maybe?
That's how I feel. Now, I certainly don't want to "revisit my high school days" or even think about them very much. I think I would rather have too few hormones, like now, instead of having too many like back then. Remember what that was like??

My thirties have been really good. I got two great kids out of it. I discovered birding and RAPTOR. I have made the closest friends I have had since high school. Closer, even. (We know how fickle teenagers are)
So no whining there.
Even though forty is lurking over the next rise in the road, am I sad? Bitter?
As I reflect, my gut instinct is to say NO. For the reasons I stated above, and for so much more.

So I'm 38. Big deal. It's how you feel, right? And since I border on grossly immature, I'm ahead of the curve. I'm already cantankerous, so I don't have to learn as I go.
Yeah, my knees aren't as quiet as they once were. My ability to stay up all night, while not completely gone, is a bit diminished. I fell asleep sitting up the other day, a la Grandma. My boobs don't look anyone in the eye anymore.
I find myself saying things like, "Just because your best friend has a phone doesn't mean YOU get one" and "Because I'm your mother!" and "Geoff, pass me the Geritol".

(Geoff, to give the man some street cred, still calls me his trophy wife. He's a big fat liar, but it's the thought that counts.)

I'm not letting all this stop me, though. In fact, I'm better than I've ever been. I'm still fun enough to be enjoyable, but I have all this responsibleness that will keep me out of jail, most of the time. I still make friends easily, but the friends I am choosing now are stellar, steadfast and true.
So this was less of a bitch-fest and more of a thinking out loud post. Thanks for reading through it.

Next post: Preparing for this year's New River Bird and Nature Festival, which fits neatly behind this post, because the Flock makes me feel young and free and giggly and sloshy. Paco! More vino, por favor!!

Five minutes of observation from an observant observationist*

2011-02-24T22:55:00.000-05:00

*I totally stole that line from a favorite blog.

I backed up the driveway today, and opened the door to unload the groceries.
In front of me was a tableau of bird behavior that was fascinating...not just because it was happening, but because I could recognize the players.
We have Pink Spot, who is a male Northern Cardinal who I've watched for two years. He has a small leucistic spot on his right wing that makes him distinctive. We also have Orange, who is a newcomer here, and low and behold, he's orange.
PINK:

"The ladies dig this freaky little spot I got. Chicka chicka wow wow....."

And ORANGE:

"I'm horny and no one likes me because I'm different."

So there was a bit of male fluffery going on. In between these two very different males, there was a female.
A normal female cardinal who had a choice to make. Or maybe she didn't. The reddest fellow seemed to have the upper hand. I will be very interested to see if Orange gets a mate this year. He is NOT a typical, bright red, healthy-looking cardinal, and with many bird species, that matters if you are going to get any nookie.

Orange got close to her....

...but after a few swipes from Pink, Orange had to back off.

And Orange was gradually scooted off the driveway.

...and up into the mulberry tree, where his very posture showed how much he really wanted that female:

Meanwhile, a lone turkey vulture zoomed down so low I could hear the creak if its wings:

The Lord God Almighty Mockingbird even pushed Orange around and then sat on the cheery tree and glared at me:

Oh. And then a stray dog showed up.

A cute little chi-chi mix, who was confident enough to eat the food I put out, but was too skittish to let me look at his collar.

Hooper was watching the whole affair and starting yodeling at the top of his lungs:

Eventually, the stray bolted into another yard, Hooper shut up, the turkey vulture moved onto another thermal, the chip-chip-chip of the cardinals faded. All this was only five minutes of my day, but it was a good five minutes.

It's time to play everyone's favorite game...."Where'd THAT Bone Come From??"

2011-02-23T21:29:00.000-05:00

Two posts in a month? Can you keep up? Can ya?

I went on a trip recently to southern Kentucky, and I surprised myself by getting up before dawn and going on a bird hike. Those of you who have birded with me can vouch for the incredulity of that statement.

Bird action was quietly promising....some circling red-tailed hawks, a phoebe, sparrows out the wazoo.

As a Junior Science Chimp, I felt that it was my duty to entertain with my scat-chimping and poking around in the weeds for fun and gross secrets.

Okay, fellow Learning Lemurs. Let's play "Where'd THAT Bone Come From??"

A few shots of a removed tooth (Yes, I yanked one out of the socket)

So. What do you think, my Chimps?

Owls and Poetry

2011-02-01T21:26:00.001-05:00

Oh, if you still come to my poor blog, thank you.
I think there have been a shortage of really good or funny stories lately, and with it being February now, not much going on in the bird department.
The good thing about winter is the start of nesting season for Great Horned Owls. I have been checking my local nest every day, but thus far, no eggs. This got me thinking of a poem by Charles Baudelaire. Les Hiboux.

A somewhat haunting poem, yet straining to find light.
Here it is in French (which is the best way to read it of course) and below, with a selection of delicious owl photos, one of many English translations.
Enjoy. And go out and look for owls!

Les Hiboux
Charles Baudelaire

Sous les ifs noirs qui les abritent
Les hiboux se tiennent rangés
Ainsi que des dieux étrangers
Dardant leur oeil rouge. Ils méditent.

Sans remuer ils se tiendront
Jusqu'à l'heure mélancolique
Où, poussant le soleil oblique,
Les ténèbres s'établiront.

Leur attitude au sage enseigne
Qu'il faut en ce monde qu'il craigne
Le tumulte et le mouvement;

L'homme ivre d'une ombre qui passe
Porte toujours le châtiment
D'avoir voulu changer de place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Owls
by Charles Baudelaire

Under the overhanging yews,
The dark owls sit in solemn state,
Like stranger gods; by twos and twos
Their red eyes gleam. They meditate.

photo by Jim Anderson

Motionless thus they sit and dream
Until that melancholy hour
When, with the sun's last fading gleam,
The nightly shades assume their power.

photo by Doug Sanchez

From their still attitude the wise
Will learn with terror to despise
All tumult, movement, and unrest;

For he who follows every shade,

Carries the memory in his breast,

Of each unhappy journey made.

photo by Doug Sanchez

My poor neglected blog (a.k.a. What I've been doing)

2010-12-08T17:01:00.000-05:00

My poor blog. It used to be like a friend I would visit every day, and I would trip lightly to my computer, switch it on and pour out my rants and share my photos. I connected with people in far-flung locales, I made friends, I made enemies thanks to the fact that I have opinions....
And now. Seems like I can barely squeeze out three posts a month. I blame Facebook.
I think Facebook was made for me. I can sling my diatribes and share my goofier moments, and I get instant gratification. The blog, well, it's different.

I'm not going to make a promise that I will post every day, but I think it's safe to say I can try harder. I can't try any less, can I?

What I've been up to:
I recently went to North Carolina for a family wedding. I was hoping to see dear Mary, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. She was out of town that weekend, so I missed her. A lot. Though I only spent two days in North Carolina, I fell for the state immediately. The mountains, the rivers. I wish I had had more time to really know it, to plumb the depth of its valleys and climb its peaks, to learn its heart. I hope I can go back soon. I'm going to try...the Carolina Raptor Center is there!

Big news at the house: After months of being forced to be Amish, we finally bought a new washer and dryer. I spent a week just catching up to all the towels, blankets, random socks and sweaters that I had been just shoving into the bottom of the laundry baskets all summer.

I got to meet some famous bird people last month....Kenn and Kim Kaufman. I was invited to bring some raptors to the Ohio Young Birder's Club annual conference. And I was thrilled to be there. Even got to hang out a little with Les, which is always a fun time.

(Photo by Tim Daniel)

We had to deal with the eradication of a family of voles who somehow blundered into our house. Seven of them, all caught and killed by either Hooper, who is an excellent rodent hunter, or one of the five cats. I hated it, and blocked every conceivable route into the house at ground level. They need to stay out in the prairie and feed the owls and hawks, not die slowly because one of our cats is "just doing what comes naturally".

Isabelle has a new pet. A small, adorable little leopard gecko named Griffin (I sure hope he's a boy):

I found very fat chickens and a donkey who needs extreme dental care:

We had a marvelous and fattening Thanksgiving dinner, which was capped off by my four pies:

I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of Lake Isabella's resident Great Horned Owls, and their sweet fuzzy babies:

We watched Isabelle's basketball team lose their first game (Boo!):

A massive flight of Sandhill Cranes invaded Ohio the other day, and a few flocks coursed through the sky over our house:

And just yesterday, I got up close and personal with a Bald Eagle. This bird (we assume it's the same one) comes into town every year around this time and even sits in the same tree every day. A very cooperative and calm bird, it doesn't mind humans being nearby (and the tree in which it sits is right next to a busy, noisy road).

So I might not get back to my every-day, every-moment-of-my-life sharing. But I can occasionally give out these long, rambling posts that encapsulate a month and a half.

You're good for me

2010-11-30T19:07:00.000-05:00

Cape May Post #3: Three Little Birds

2010-11-13T21:27:00.000-05:00

Cape May 2010 Post #2: A Jeff sandwich on Flock bread. With a Liz pickle (and a hell of a lot of name-dropping)

2010-11-04T21:51:00.002-04:00

Let's go back to Thursday. I had gotten into town late (12 hours in the car and punchy as hell). Delia and I were in our jammies when a text came from Jeff asking if we were staying up late. We were invited to Mark Garland's house where Jeff, Liz, Bill and a few others were happily imbibing some Scotch.

There were introductions all around...I don't remember a few of them, but one stuck in my head. But not until later when Delia started hollering about it. The one that had us cussing and squealing was Richard Crossley. Yeah ,the Richard Crossley who writes field guides. Well, we geeked out totally and for the rest of the weekend, we called him "Richard Freakin' Crossley!".

I didn't really want to drink, having come off a twelve hour drive, but as the Scotch was poured and re-poured, I thought I might like to try it. I didn't like it. So I sipped a little more.

It was so, so, so very cool to be sitting in a living room with all of these massively talented birders and authors. (Delia told me later that I looked like a kid at Christmas, sitting on the floor just smiling at everyone.)

A call came in. The words "massive flight" were used. Everyone got up.

Into the cars and down to the boardwalk on Beach Ave. We looked up, and there were hundreds of birds overhead. Now, remember...this is 11 o'clock at night. The birds were lit up from underneath by the street lights and they resembled fireflies...blowing leaves....embers from a camp fire. Hundreds and hundreds of them. Some were falling into the street, exhausted. I got my lifer Savannah's Sparrow right there on Beach Ave. In the dark.
Robins. Chipping sparrows. Yellow-rumped warblers. Woodcocks. And many others that were not identified. The biggest bird spectacle I have ever seen.

I have never birded at night, unless there were owls involved. This was something completely different.

Wow. I don't know who has the better legs, Jeff or Delia.

We were right outside Morrow's Nut House. Seemed fitting.

The lights were getting in the way...

We moved behind the convention center to get out of the light.

There in the dark, it was much easier to see the birds. They were lit up but the lights were no longer in our line of sight.
My neck was getting sore, so I had the brilliant idea to lay down on the boardwalk to enjoy the birds in comfort. And everyone else eventually joined me.

Somehow Delia and I were lucky enough to snuggle up to Jeff for warmth, and Liz completed the dish.
A Jeff Gordon sandwich on Flock bread. With a Liz pickle on top.

Cape May 2010 Post #1: Also known as "Singing Karaoke with Sweet Caroline, the Town Lesbian"

2010-11-01T21:18:00.000-04:00

Back from Cape May and reeling around trying to find "real life" again...because what happens in Cape May isn't real. It's a fantasy that birders fall into every year and the time comes, too soon, to wake up and go home.
My posts are not going to be in chronological order...I'm starting with Friday night, since it's the easiest.
The scene: The C-View, a little sports bar in town, which proclaims to be the oldest tavern in Cape May
The people: Delia, Laura, Beth, me, a few of Beth's friends and a local or two
We were sitting there drinking, having a great time. Delia explained "jammers" to me: Someone who "looks" gay but isn't. We were puzzling over a woman at the bar, and at one point the woman came over to us drunkenly and started chatting us up. Turns out she was puzzling over us too.
She described herself as Cape May's "Town Lesbian" and proceeded to lead us in a searing rendition of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline". And gave us grief for not singing louder and more robustly.
Sorry, drunken stranger.

But check out Beth....she even got the "Bah Bah Bah's" right!

Meet me in New Jersey

2010-10-26T23:37:00.001-04:00

Back in the fall of 2007, I agreed to go meet some fellow bird bloggers in Cape May, New Jersey. The lineup was originally much larger, but in the end only four of us were there to meet on that beautiful shore.

Delia
Susan Merchant
Laura
and moi

I remember it being so strange, so awkward, to meet these people that I had only known through my computer screen up until then. I had flown all the way to New Jersey to go birding with strangers??

From that first meeting, from jokingly calling ourselves "The Flock", a wave...a movement...a thing has occurred. Now numbering in the teens, we are a group...a passel...a force.
From all over the country, we gather to laugh, to love, to bird, to cherish. To giggle uncontrollably. To be shushed by trip leaders. To ingest very large amounts of wine. To get glared at by other, more responsible birders.

To quote Delia in a comment about our last Cape May Weekend:
"I don't know why we all don't just admit that, with the exception of KatDoc, we all went to Cape May to see each other and be rowdy! Were there even any birds there?"

I cherish these women (and one man) so much more than I ever thought possible.
In a little over 24 hours, I will be packing the car and heading to Cape May once again, to frolic in the waves,
to cry at the peregrines and osprey overhead, to get frustrated over shorebirds, and to once again wrap my arms around my Flock.

Hail to the Chief!!

2010-10-14T18:36:00.000-04:00

When Jeff Gordon asked me recently, "What do you know about the ABA?", I didn't know what to say. I knew what the letters stood for, and....umm....that's about it. I couldn't tell you who was leading the organization, what they did or how they did it. My opinion of the organization was vague, to say the least. I proved a point for him, with my ignorance.

Over the past month or so, I have done some reading up on the ABA and have a clearer picture of what it's all about. And up until about a week and a half ago, things were not looking good. I kept reading phrases like "financial crater" and "poor leadership" and "Who cares about the ABA anyway?".

As it turns out, all birders should care about the ABA. It is the only organization of its kind in North America, and it is FOR birders and BY birders. They have a comprehensive Code of Ethics that as birders we all need to adhere to. They contribute to bird and bird habitat conservation. They offer conferences and workshops. It's an organization for US.
This is the place where we all need to be.

About a week and a half ago, the news came ripping through the intertubes through email, texting, but most of all, Facebook. Jeff Gordon had been selected as the new President of the ABA. I'm pretty sure Facebook broke that day.

We will be learning more as the weeks and months go on, but for now, I am unbelievably proud of Jeff, honored to be his friend, and ready to help in any way he needs. He has a HUGE job ahead of him.
Be sure to stop here, at his blog and the new ABA blog for updates.

Here's a link to a video Jeff has posted on the ABA blog:
Hello from the New President and Greetings from Providence

I was telling my mother about Jeff's good news, and I mentioned that I wanted to join the ABA for the first time. Mom decided that a membership would make a good early Christmas gift for me. Thanks, Mom!

I leave you with my favorite photo of Jeff (because I took it, and because it captures just what makes Jeff so darn lovable)...
Chilling on the Farmhouse porch one evening during the 2010 New River Birding and Nature Festival.
(And Jeff is on the front page of their web site too!)

A last kindness

2010-10-07T21:59:00.001-04:00

Nellie came into our lives in February 2001. A two month old mix of big head, big feet and sweet puppy charm. Her mother had been a German Shepherd, and it looks like her father was a Lab and/or Rottweiler.
Whatever her lineage, I thought she was the best thing ever.

Until it came to house-training her. I thought she was brain-damaged. She just. Didn't. Get. It.
After five months of sopping up accidents from the carpet, I sort of gave up on her, and told Geoff that she was his dog. He was responsible for finally getting her brain to learn what "Go outside" meant.

I never thought I would love her the way you're supposed to love a dog. She wasn't a dog you could hug...she wasn't smart, I thought.

And like I said, I had given up on her. But she never gave up on me.

When I was heavily pregnant with Isabelle, I was finishing the nursery preparations. I had just steam-cleaned the carpets in her room and the hallway. Wearing Keds (the only shoe that would fit on my swollen feet), I started down the stairs. The combination of wet carpet and stupid shoes caused me to fall.
Somehow, in the 1.5 seconds it took me to stumble down 3 steps, Nelllie was there. She materialized out of nowhere and I threw my arms around her and stopped myself from pitching all the way down. As I came to a screeching halt, I sat down on that wet carpet, and gasping for breath, put my arms around Nellie and shook like a leaf. She sat there and let me hug her for the first time.
She had saved Isabelle. That was the day Nellie became my dog.

Nellie had a neurotic fear of tree swallows, afraid to go out in the backyard every year they nested here.
She was always gentle with Isabelle and Lorelei, even when they weren't.

She accepted a wide range of new animals into the house over the course of her life with us.

(Everyone remember Boomer?)

Her life was completely intertwined with mine. Never completely confident with her status in life, she looked to me when she was scared, or happy, or lonely. She was my shadow, always watching for where I was, what I was doing.

I never could get a really good photo of her and me, since she never wanted to look at the camera...not when I was around.

Nearly ten years is a long time to love a dog. And not nearly long enough.
We aren't completely sure what was wrong with Nellie at the end, but she showed symptoms of transitional cell carcinoma, cancerous cells in the lining of the bladder. No cure, just treatment of the symptoms.
And we tried. We worked the pills as long as we could.
But every day, she got thinner. She stopped enjoying her food and her toys. And the final thing, the moment I knew we were going to lose her...a look. Just a look that she gave me, telling me that it was time to let her go.
And since I loved her, I found the strength to say goodbye.

With the help of a dear friend, I listened to her last breath and felt her slip away. Away from the pain, and away from me.
A last kindness to a soul that deserved the peace we were able to give her at the end.

Nellie Bly Williams

November13, 2000 - September 22, 2010

We love you.

The Zoo all for me!

2010-09-18T20:47:00.000-04:00

When the Greater Cincinnati Environmental Educator Expo came around this year, I hopped on the bandwagon. The council used the new education building at the Cincinnati Zoo, and after set-up we were free to roam the zoo at will for two hours.

I have never been to the zoo by myself. No stroller? No kids begging for stuff from the gift shop? It was hard not to skip to my lou.

(I was hoping to see Thane. We end up at the same events, but never seem to hook up. Sigh....for a refresher course in "Thane and Me", see this post...found out that he was doing a talk in the room next to the expo, but I couldn't leave my table.)

What I did see were some cute/silly animal behaviors. And some things that I have never been able to just stand and observe.

In the Discovery Forest, I always look for the Two-Toed Sloth. And he is always in the same place. Sleeping in his tree. This makes me smile.

There are two Laughing Kookaburras right outside the "Bird Building". This one was so bright-eyed and curious....walked right up to the barricade to blink at me with those lovely slate eyes. He made me smile.

Ever since I got to hear Kelly do her kookaburra impression, she is what I think of when I see a kookaburra.

The bird building is of course my favorite part of the zoo....full of feathered lovelies from all over the world. From King Penguins to Whiskered Auklets to Rhinoceros Hornbills to Scarlet Ibis.
And this extremely friendly eider (don't know the species) who wanted to come and investigate me through the glass. It made me smile.

This black bear reminded me of this day at last year's New River Birding and Nature Festival.
The floppy gap in his mouth made me smile.

The white lions were asleep too.
(The zoo's white lions are gifts from none other than Siegfried and Roy)

That pink tongue...my house cats do the same thing. Made me smile.

I got to pet this two year old alligator. I didn't tell the handler that he felt like a purse. That would have been tacky.

His cool leathery skin made me smile. And the fact that I was brave enough to do it.

This lemur was all like, "Meh."
Made me laugh.

A new exhibit, "Dragons", highlights the world's monitor lizards, from tiny Adobe Monitors to the ginormous Komodo Dragon. This is the hind end...the end you want to see.

I just stood there and stared and stared at the massive amount of dragon flesh stretched out in there.

The Cat House (I always laugh when I say that) is another favorite. Too bad the urine smell is so bad in the building....I wonder if they can do something about that.

Looking for all the world like a little domestic cat, this Sand Cat was taking a nap and making my heart do a little dance. Check out that fur....strokable.

The Meerkat was showing me his brain, via his nostrils:

The Macaque exhibit is on an island in the middle of the zoo. This one is preparing his "Hamlet" soliloquy.

Look at that face. Hey, Creationists? You honestly think we aren't related????

I think this one was burping.

I watched this one, alone and tucked into one of the rock crevices, for about five minutes. He was just playing with his toes. :)

The last exhibit I visited before I had to hustle back to the expo was what I thought was the bald eagle eyrie.
Was I ever surprised to be confronted with an ANDEAN CONDOR.

With the largest wingspan of any land bird (3.2 meters....that's over 10 feet, y'all), and a body that weighs up to 31 pounds (THIRTY ONE!), it's a bird that inspires awe. I stood there like an idiot for a few minutes, just staring. I didn't know the zoo had acquired a condor. This is a big deal. This one is a female (See her red eyes? Males have brown eyes. And females lack the red comb of flesh above the beak that males have).
I had her all to myself. She was fairly close, and we sized each other up...I was obviously boring, as she resumed preening. All I could think was, "That is one BIG A$$ bird...."
A great day.

Small moments

2010-08-22T21:32:00.000-04:00

Late summer drones on for me...the girls are back to school, but the bird action (now that I have some time to get out and watch them) is still quiet. Babies are grown, the fall exodus not yet begun....

I take what I can get, though. Small moments of magic.

I found a flower whose stamens are minuscule Pixie Stix.

(Please click on this to see it larger...)

Glowing Morning Glory.

Did not know an inchworm was also noodling his way through the thistle blooms alongside the skipper.
(This skipper was the size of a quarter.)

A delicate, tiny white flower in the underbrush...

So small and fragile-looking, I held my breath as I took its picture.

Watched water striders' shadows chase them under the water.

I found water so clear, it held the sky inside.

Just the right patch of shade gave me a star.

Stumbled across a bird finally, a solitary sandpiper eating a small fish.

A small moment that was huge for me....
I've always wanted to see this. A damselfly freshly emerged from its nymph skin.

Zero defining marks. Just opalescent translucence.

I've never held a dragonfly or damselfly. They are too smart, too fast for that. I've always wanted to, but never had the chance.

And then he climbed onto my fingernail.

Cuteness and its many forms

2010-08-21T21:07:00.000-04:00

If you recall from this post, Thirteen our screech owl is going through the atypical feather molt that seems to be the bane of captive screech owls everywhere.
A week after I took those photos, I went in to get him again. Things are looking up....but little dude still has a long way to go.

At least his ear tufts are coming back...
No matter how many feathers he loses, I still think Thirteen is cute.
Sort of like a Jim Henson creation. Think about Animal. That's one weird looking thing. But we all love him anyway, right?

If he let me, I would love to help him preen off all of those feather sheaths....

A few things to point out, since it's not every day you get to observe a screech owl so closely:

The nictitating membrane: (from the Latin nictare, to blink)
This is a membrane present in many animals such as birds, reptiles and sharks. Some mammals have a vestigal nictitating membrane (We humans have it...the pink bit in the inner corner) while some mammals have a fully active, controllable membrane.

They are either transparent or translucent....in the above photo, we can clearly see the disapproval and embarrassment through the membrane.

Another cool thing:
The ears of an owl are set near the face, close to the sides but facing forward. In the Tytonidae owl species (such as Barn Owls), and the aperture is rounded and asymmetrical (the left ear is set higher than the right), but in the Strigidae owls, the shape of the aperture varies.
An owl's range of audible sounds is not dissimilar to ours, but their hearing is so acute at certain frequencies they are able to hear the slightest movement of their prey.
The facial disc that every owl species possesses funnels sound waves right to the ears, acting like a satellite dish. And they are able to manipulate those feathers to calculate where their prey is. Barn owls' hearing is so acute, they can find their prey in total darkness.

And when the satellite dish falls off, we can see right in there.
If you can see the hole in Thirteen's head, behind and just under his eye? This is the ear canal.

I love this photo just for the glint of sunlight in his eye. And that pitiful ear tuft, still half wrapped in sheaths:

A completely different type of cuteness:

School begin this week and the girls are excited to be back.
A big thing around here is that Lorelei is cheerleading this year.
And boy is she good at it. It comes to her naturally, this whole ra-ra thing.

This beautiful and good-natured child has been fun to be with since birth. Shoot....even delivering her was EASY.

Today we got to watch her do her very first cheerleading gig, complete with football game.

Now, I did the cheerleading back in the day, just for a year. I don't really know why. I ended up being one of those ironically sarcastic teenagers who quietly sneered at cheerleaders.
So along with it being amazingly expensive, I had to struggle with my inner conflict....

But when a child really really wants to do something like this, a good mom just bites her tongue and writes the check.

(We won, too. It was a scoreless game until the fourth quarter, when out of the blue, one of our boys had the ball and somehow outran everyone down the field for a 60 yard touchdown.
I broke a blood vessel in my finger, I got so into it. It was awesome.
(Maybe I didn't completely leave the cheerleading behind?)

Check this out....it starts EARLY, the whole football player/cheerleader thing:

That boy does NOT have his mind on the game.

The Summer Dance

2010-08-15T22:53:00.000-04:00

The party isn't over
But some are ready to go
and some are already gone

Her gown
Fresh and bright at the start

Shows the wear and tear of the dance

The lights will dim

and the debris with begin to blow
across the dance floor

Where so many found a partner

The colors will change along the walls
as it reaches its close,

The weary dancers slow their spinning
and prepare their exit

It's been a wonderful party
and all good things must end

But not yet...

Neat things I saw this weekend

2010-08-09T22:50:00.000-04:00

Saturday found me at the second annual Midwest Native Plant Conference in Beavercreek Ohio. I displayed some of our education birds for the participants to ooh and ahh over.

I was so happy to run into Wil Hershberger...New River Bird and Nature Festival-goers know him well. He's the nice one. :)

My table was across the room from his, so I was sneakily shooting photos of him:

Hee hee, he doesn't see me....

Oops, now he sees me!

Oh, what a nice person. And I mean a genuinely nice person.
Before he left, I asked someone to take a photo of Wil, me and one of the birds. I shouldn't have chosen Storm.

Storm doesn't know what it means when I say, "Hey, goofy bird. Look at the camera!"

Other things I saw this weekend:

Question mark butterfly noodling in the mud

Electric blue dragonfly on a sauerkraut jar (that doubled as a minnow container)

The closest I've been to a green heron, without it pooping violently and flying away

And in the classic tradition of the yearly summer "Screech Owl Ugly Molt"....long time readers of this blog will remember Rufous, bless his little soul:

Well, Thirteen might just have him beat....

A list of words from The Flock

2010-08-02T22:54:00.002-04:00

I've been doing some poking around in the house lately and today I came across a sheet of paper I thought I had lost. It's three lists from my glorious friends, The Flock.

It's divided into three sections:
"What Susan was called this week"
"Things we called Debbie"
"Flock Dictionary"

These lists were written on the back of a note from Geoff Heeter, welcoming us to the 2010 New River Bird and Nature Festival and telling everyone else that I ate all the cookies.

Note: Sure, the festival was months ago and I'm still blogging about it. But very little fun excitement is going on in my life right now, so just deal with it. :)

In case you can't read his chicken scratch:
"The Flock- Hello and Welcome!
The glasses and key chain lights are for you.
Susan ate your cookies.
Enjoy the chips and salsa!
Geoff"

I did not eat all the cookies.

On the flip side of this note is a mish-mash of drunken scribbling.

Let's break it down:
The left side is a list of things that I was called over the course of the week (If anyone remembers any especially fun side stories about these, please SHARE THEM):

Bitchy (As in Vickie saying to me the first day, "We need to get you some food. You're kinda bitchy."
Liar (??)
Pop 'N' Fresh (Was this a boob thing?)
Puff 'N' Stuff (Was this also a boob thing?)
Pillsbury Doughboy (Because of the way I laugh)
Nasty (I assume I was hungry)
Grumpy (Ditto)
Smart ass (Well, what did you expect?)
Sweet (The Petersons wrote this!)
Considerate (This too!)
Randy (???)
Buzz~~meister~~/Buzzamatrix (Julie called me that....because I broadcast to the world about this festival)
Testes (Um....)
Profanity Barbie (snort)

The right side of the paper lists all the different Barbies we could turn Debbie into:

Adventure Barbie (She's ready for adventure, any time and any place!)
Helpful Barbie (Self-explanatory)
Clumsy Barbie (Girlfriend falls. A LOT)
Guest Service Barbie (Same as "Helpful Barbie")
Pirate Barbie (She stood up on a road rail at Cranberry Bog and scared the shit out of me, and then posed like a pirate. Argggh.)
GRAVITY Barbie (Just like "Clumsy Barbie". She took a spill on one of the trips that will assuredly be talked about for years to come.)
Defroster Barbie (One of the mornings, there was frost on our car windows. Sweet Debbie scraped ALL of them.)
S & M Barbie (I don't know. And I don't want to hear about it.)

The bottom list really got me cackling, because there are a few that I just don't remember writing down, even though it's in my handwriting. My drunken handwriting...maybe that explains it.
The Flock Dictionary:

Newbology
Dickishness
Spraint
Queasiology
Squeeziology
Peeliated
Disco w/ monkeys
Blow in a circle

Now, "Spraint" I remember. I may have to let the other Flock members refresh my memory about the rest of those. "Disco w/monkeys"????? "Blow in a circle"?????????

NRBNF Life Bird Dances

2010-07-26T12:00:00.005-04:00

Killing time

2010-07-15T17:34:00.005-04:00

Geoff has been writing a corporate history for a company headquartered in Versailles, Ohio. He has been visiting there off and on gathering interviews with past and present employees, and this time we all went along for the ride.
Versailles, Ohio (that's "ver-sails", not "Vair-sigh") is a quiet and tiny town on the western edge of the state. One hotel, one gas station, no Starbucks....you get the picture. Geoff talked me into the trip by telling me all about the "nature places" and his non-birding opinion that the place would be "birdy".

We arrived in the early morning on Monday and as Geoff headed off to do his job, the girls and I headed to a nearby reserve to kill time.

Stillwater Prairie Reserve:

It's 380 acres of prairie loveliness. Full of native Ohio wildflowers, it's a butterfly and dragonfly heaven. With two ponds and a wetland, it's a frog and bird paradise.
Let's go to the photos:

Milkweed was everywhere. More than I have ever seen in one place. Common, swamp, spider milkweed...all full of juicy milk and crawling with milkweed bugs and beetles. And earwigs. And other things I couldn't identify.

Dragonflies and damselflies were everywhere. Pond hawks, widow skimmers, Carolina saddlebags, halloween pennants.

Butterflies were everywhere. Monarchs too busy to land and pose, tiger swallowtails, small sulphurs, tiny blues, clouds of cabbage whites, and this red-spotted purple.

Two ponds in the reserve gave Isabelle many chances to catch frogs (one of her favorite past times).
This peeper landed on Lorelei's shirt, and tried to escape through the "portal."

I was in Native Paradise.
Yellow coneflower, purple coneflower, bee balm as far as the eye can see....adding that to the copious amounts of milkweed, and it was all I could do NOT to strip down and roll through it all naked.

Bird-wise, it was quiet, as expected in mid-summer.
But this kingbird was close enough for the girls to hear its beak "snap" as it zoomed back and forth from its branch to flycatch.

Non-sequiter:
We left the prairie to get some lunch (and returned back TO the prairie after eating) and while driving through the next town, Isabelle say this sign on the post office and MADE ME take a photo:

"Mommy....it's a Puh-Just Office!" (giggles ensue)

Happy Independence Day!

2010-07-04T22:03:00.002-04:00

Their house blew away and all we got was a T-shirt

2010-06-25T23:18:00.004-04:00

As you may have read on this post, some of us here Bloggers have been telling Debby Kaspari's story and letting everyone know how they can help.

Well, we have another way you can support the cause: T-shirts.

Murr over at Murrmurrs (a shoot-a-drink-out-of-your-nose-funny blog) designed this shirt for Team Kaspari on the Zazzle website and you should head over there and get yourself one.

You can choose from an assortment of colors and styles, and ALL of the profit goes to Debby and Mike's rebuilding efforts.
And I'll tell you why I love the shirt so much...the meaning behind it. Two forlorn scissor-tailed flycatchers surrounded by a *Flock* of birds of other species who are bringing in nesting material. Murr's a genius.

Just go and do it. You'll be glad you did.
Nest in peace.

They might be giants

2010-06-19T23:06:00.004-04:00

Mary Ann became my temporary BFF.

Way back in March at the Adams County Bird Syposium, a raffle was drawn for a chance to see the banding of some peregrine falcon chicks in Aberdeen. A friend of Mary Ann's won, but since she was already involved in the banding of the chicks in Cincinnati, she gave the chances to Mary Ann. And that's when I became her new BFF.
(If you don't remember who Mary Ann is, she is in this post. And this post. And this post. She has no blog. Poor dope.)

No, I wasn't using her just for the banding opportunity. Well, maybe 10 percent. Okay, 20.
I mean, we're talking peregrine falcons here. Baby ones. My totem bird. My favorite.

In all seriousness, Mary Ann is a fun and tolerant new birding companion and I was so thrilled that she let me come along.
But honestly, I wonder at the agonized howls that would have ensued from my mouth if she hadn't.

So with an hour-long drive in my falcon-mobile, we arrived.
In fact, let's just get to the photos, huh?

The Peregrine Falcon project is administered by the Ohio Department of Natural Resources' Division of Wildlife.

And this is the lady who travels all over the state banding the babies:

(Jennifer Norris with our Mary Ann)

From the ODNR website:
"Along with several other Midwestern states, Ohio began introducing the birds in 1989. Several pairs were released in cities between 1989 and 1992. Last year in Ohio, 19 nesting pairs of peregrine falcons are estimated to have successfully hatched and fledged 64 young. An estimate was made because actual counts were unavailable due to site access for some nests.
Federal funds for the peregrine falcon project and other wildlife diversity efforts of the Division of Wildlife are provided through the State Wildlife Grant Program, which targets species with greatest conservation need.
The division's peregrine falcon management program is funded by the sale of cardinal license plates, the division’s new Ohio Wildlife Legacy Stamp and contributions to the state Wildlife Diversity & Endangered Species Check-off Fund. "

Quick note about bands:

These dual-colored bands will show up at a distance and the letter/number combination can easily be read. They are read from top to bottom, so the one on the left would read "black over red, 16Y".
If you ever see a banded peregrine falcon, here's a handy chart to tell you where it came from:

Red                 Captive bred
Black/red bicolor   Eastern United States
Black/green bicolor Eastern United States
Blue                Tundra Peregrines
Black/blue bicolor  Tundra or Anatum captured off the breeding grounds or subspecies unknown
Green               Peale's Peregrines
Black               Anatum Peregrines

Another band, in purple, is fitted on the other leg. These are USFW bands.

We found out that a local sixth grade class (I did a program at that school!) came up with names for these chicks. Since Mary Ann, myself and one other woman were the only audience members, we each got to choose which falcon would get which name.

And here are the babies (all females, by the way):

Skylar

Flyte

Epic

(The largest and likely the oldest of the three. This is the one I named!)

Aside from the bands, parasites and blood samples were collected:

Peregrine chicks start out life not with that majestically long, rudder-like tail, but instead sport a stubby butt that looks like it belongs on a chicken:

Check out the limp toes (this is a defense mechanism).

Epic had the remains of breakfast stuck in her beak (see the tan feather?).

Let's just soak in the adorableness of that face for a minute......

These babies will grow up to be the race cars of the sky, blue-gray thunderbolts that split the air with their speed and strength. But this day, at 3 weeks old, just fuzzy white perfection.

This last photo makes my heart do a drum roll.
Those toes, the same type of toes that curl around my thumb and forefinger on a regular basis, that clench my hand when the owner needs reassurance, the toes that take food from my hand and have a firm hold on my heart....

Good luck, little ones. Go forth and multiply.

When it's all gone, what do you do?

2010-06-12T21:20:00.007-04:00

Last month, a grim and deadly parade of tornadoes blew away homes across Oklahoma. I always feel something for the people caught in the path of one of nature's most powerful forces.
I remember the panic and feeling of utter helplessness of being a breakable human as a tornado has roared nearby. I've been close to tornadoes twice in my life, and that is twice too many for my comfort.
When updates started popping up on Facebook from Tim and Julie regarding their friend Debby Kaspari, who was right at tornado Ground Zero I waited with trepidation.
When it was all over, Debby, her husband Mike and their cat Gizmo had survived the F4 tornado inside a shelter built into their garage floor. But they could see light shining in the gaps around the shelter. That wasn't right. They emerged from the shelter, and this is what they saw:

(Photo by Debby Kaspari)

Their house, their cars, their stately oak trees. Smashed or gone.
Take a moment to live in their shoes. Your house is now a pile of rubble. Your cars have large trees on top of them. Your clothes have blown away. Precious photos are shredded.
And if you are an artist like Debby, the paintings that have poured from your heart...are they still in one piece?

As the days wore on, Debby and Mike were able to collect some of their belongings, but the task is ongoing. Since they are in an unincorporated section of Little Ax, the rubble has to be removed by the homeowners. They even found some things that didn't belong to them:

This is a pickup truck that was carried from the gas station down the road...a MILE down the road. And the gas pump nozzle was laying next to it.
(Photo by Debby Kaspari)

It sounds like an insurmountable task, picking your life from the destruction. Both physically and mentally.
We build our lives cocooned in our homes, and when that home is gone, how does that feel?

The blogging community, a gathering I am proud to be a part of, is sending Debby's story out into the world and asking our readers to go to the link at the top of my blog on the right and donate to the cause through PayPal.

My Jersey Girl

2010-06-04T14:55:00.006-04:00

I began this blog way back in 2005, and I don't even remember the reasons.
For the longest time, only a few family members and a friend or two would read it and comment.

I was pleasantly surprised when, in February 2006, a STRANGER left a comment! Just out of the blue!
She had a blog too. I went to her blog, started reading her stuff, and also clicking through to other blogs on her blog roll. And away we went. From that initial interaction of two blog owners, came the beginning of the Flock.
(Thanks to Laura and her urging to come to Cape May's Autumn Weekend, we began to migrate together as a pack.)

Since tomorrow is the anniversary of her arrival on the planet, (The Birthday-That-Must-Not-Be-Named!) I decided to make a list.

Laura, this one's for you!

A List of Laura:
Her confidence (seriously, just watch her walk across a room to see what I mean).
Making me laugh so hard and so long I wonder if I will die from it.

Generosity of soul.
Thinking that she secretly likes my weird choices of nail polish.
The fact that she is never on time for anything.

Her poet's heart.
The squeak of that porch swing.

(Photo by Steve Mattan)

When she rolls her eyes at my nonsense but sticks around to hear more.

Her camera in one hand and a beer dangling in the other.

A facade that seems reserved, but will crumble into silly fun at any time.
Erasing the stereotype I had in my head of "Jersey Girls".

That soft focus she rings her photos with.

The secrets we whisper.
The trust we forge with those whispers.

Knowing each other long enough to have a repertoire of stories.

Feeling so blessed to have her as my friend.

Happy birthday, Jersey! Love you!

(Photo by Steve Mattan)

Just good people

2010-06-02T17:09:00.006-04:00

I like people. Most of 'em, anyway.

There have been plenty of situations in my life, when I lay eyes on someone, and just know that we are going to work out just fine.
(This never really worked with any of my past boyfriends. Lust is blind, I guess.)

Most of my relationships of late (five years, since my blog reared its ugly head) have begun in cyberspace and then bloomed into an all-encompassing bouquet of friends that honestly, I don't know what I would do without. It's a rare thing to meet people the old-fashioned way.

Thank goodness I still know how to do it.

This Spring, at the New River Birding and Nature Festival I got to meet and spend time with a couple that I didn't actually know through this tiny computer monitor. Imagine.

Meet Larry and Diana:

This is exactly where I met them, while Diana was holding a just-banded titmouse and said titmouse was biting the hell out of her finger.

I set my camera to "Burst" mode and got a series of the titmouse bursting from Diana's hand. The best one, however, was the one that shows the titmouse flying right in front of Larry's face:

I laughed out loud when I previewed the photos, and went over to Larry and Diana to show the best one.
Just look how happy Larry is!

This was the first birding festival they had attended, and I assured them that they picked THE BEST ONE to start with.

Over the course of the week, I got to know them better and it was interesting how many things we had in common:
They live in my home state (Indiana), Larry is a Mason (so were most of the men in my family), they are both in Eastern Star (like my mother), and Larry's been known to hunt a deer or two
(I was raised on venison!).
And they're just good people.
It was like being with family members.
(I'm trying to put together a video of some of the participants' Life Bird dances, and there's a super cute one of Larry after he got...ummm...a Cerulean I think?)

I sort of adopted them, and as the festival ended, we exchanged email addresses and heartfelt wishes that we will see each other again next year.
I hope they return...we have more Life Bird Wiggles to do!

So sweet, you'll need a root canal

2010-05-17T22:10:00.004-04:00

We interrupt my albeit lackadaisical New River posting to bring you the newest star in the Cute Universe.
Kathi caught the Puppy Fever recently, after saying goodbye to wonderful and special Grace.
Seven weeks ago, Kathi found and claimed a Boston Terrier puppy. And just met her yesterday.

The result is just a great big pile of Adorable wrapped in white and black fur named Panda.
Very few words in this post. I mean, really...the photos say enough.
Don't forget to brush your teeth after seeing them.

The need to lick faces, whether they are within reach or not, seems to be a genetic trait among Boston Terriers:

"I'm nowhere near your face, but...I...must...lick..."

So yeah, we're swimming in cute puppiness, but that doesn't mean Mama won't chastise you if you try to eat the carpet:

"Must shake and kill this hippo...."

"I did it! Hippo no more!"

She has a perfect bottom. As Julie puts it, a tail like "a chocolate chip".

And she runs like a bunny:

Not to exclude Holly, Kathi's older and larger dog....She had a good romp with Isabelle around the pond:

Puppies wear out quickly...

Can you see her?

Zip it....zip it good!

2010-05-12T13:27:00.006-04:00

Even while having the time of your life at the New River Birding and Nature Festival, it can happen. Bird-Burn-Out (or BBO).

Bird songs, birdjams, (Hi, Jay!) bird photos, birds birds birds. There is a point that I think many people reach at this festival, where they just have sensory overload and can't handle any more birds.

The promoters realize this, and one of the ways they have chosen to deal with BBO is to offer some unconventional trips that aren't really about the birds, like Birding by Boat, a gentle float trip down the New River (that's for another post).

Another way, and frankly a zippy way, to deal with it is the Canopy Tour, aka "the Zipline".
This was offered on two different days of the festival at two separate companies.
(Ours was Ace Adventure Resort)

I was digging the idea of flying through the trees yelling like a kamikaze, so I signed up.
Nina also signed up, but was on another trip. Here's our adorable Nina, getting suited up and ready to zip:

(Photo by Geoff Heeter)

I was pleasantly surprised that only four women, including me, had signed up for this day of zipping. I was the youngest of the four...that rocks.
We did some low-impact birding before suiting up.
Jeff Gordon acted like a very sexy female turkey and called in not only a male turkey, but a red-shouldered hawk:

Yes. That's JEFF making that sexy turkey noise.

Devo makes a comeback.
(Photo by Geoff Heeter)

Why we look like we don't want to touch each other, I don't know.
I'm usually all over Jeff like a bad suit.
(Photo by Geoff Heeter)

The very competent young woman who was our leader made me feel quite safe.
And she reminded the men, as they geared up in their harnesses, "Make sure all of the furniture is in the same room."
Ahem~

"Jeff and Geoff, is all of your furniture in the same room?"

I am usually happy to not be a man, but this day, I was especially thankful.
Even without "furniture", that harness really should have bought me dinner first.

My bra did end up around my neck.

It was so fun, zipping from platform to platform, and platform up to tree, across ravines...
Since this was a free-style zip, your momentum usually makes you spin around a few times.

Here's a quick video of one of my zips, when I don't quite take off hard enough to reach the platform, necessitating pulling myself hand over hand on the safety line, hence the silly cackling at the end of the video.

(This video achieved by turning the camera on right before I zip,
and balancing said camera on my right boob):

The women were great...and the one that I will remember for the rest of my life was Dot.
Dot is a 70-something grandmother who, as she did the last and most terrifying zip (where instead of running off a platform, you scooted off on your rear end and basically did a free fall) went flying through the air yelling "Whoop! WHOOP! WHOOP!".

She had a plan for the photos that were taking of her zips.
"I'm giving them to my grandbabies, so when their friends show off pictures of their grandmas in a rocking chair on the porch, my grandbabies can show a picture of their grandma ziplining."
That's just awesome.

Here's Dot, on her Blackberry, no less:

And in conclusion, Jeff Gordon: KAMAKAZE:

Keeping up with the Peterson's

2010-05-10T16:19:00.008-04:00

At a point right before the New River Birding and Nature Festival, I realized that of the seven other people staying at the Farmhouse, I had never met ANY of them in person.
This wasn't a totally new concept for me...jetting around the country meeting strangers is old hat.
A few of the people sleeping under the same roof, I hadn't even spoken to over email. And one of them was a MAN.

Murr: "Hey! Can my friend Linda come along?"
Me: "Sure! The more the merrier!"
Molly: "Hey! Can my friends Lee and Courtney come along?"
Me: "Sure! The more the merrier!"
Everyone seemed to be coming in on a different day, and even that changed daily.

As they drifted in, I did my best to be a good host (since I was the nut who implored them to attend this festival in the first place).
I had no preconceived notions of anyone, so it was nice to meet each new face.

Some of us liked each other so completely and so quickly, we began to use each others mannerisms:

(Photo by Mary Ferracci)

Lee and Courtney Peterson arrived, and I adored them immediately.

(I'm going to let you click on their links so you can appreciate the shock I had when I found out who they were. )

Famous surnames didn't matter around the kitchen table and we found other things to discuss.
We didn't make a big deal out of them, they were just another couple of birders who found themselves staying in a house on a hillside in West Virginia.

Though they were only able to stay for a few days of the festival, it was a pleasure to extend that famous Flock hospitality to such nice people. I think they had a fine time, and I'm sure they were happy to attend a festival just for the birds.

Lee and Courtney, we were thrilled to have you...and hope to see you again soon!

We put the "ha" in Kanawha

2010-05-06T15:02:00.006-04:00

"What trip are you going on today?"
"Kanhaw....Kanawawa...Kan...awww, dammit, the Falls trip."

I was never sure how to pronounce it (I heard someone call it "Kanaw" so I'm sticking with that) but Kanawha Falls is a trip to take if you decide to take the plunge and go to the New River Birding and Nature Festival.

If we rewind to last year's festival: The "Birding by Boat" trip was called off because of some sissy thunderstorm warning, so at the last minute the guides threw together a trip right off the cuff.
To Kanawha Falls. And I hear it was glorious.

I missed this trip last year because Laura kept me up until 1 am, jawing on the front porch, and then I was too wired to sleep until about 4, so when Nina gently said at 5 a.m., "Susan? Are you getting up?" I whispered, "I got an hour's sleep. And I'm hungover. And I can't move. Leave me behind."

And they ended up having a great time and I was jealous.

It went so well last year, the promoters added it as a real trip this time around.
Kanawha Falls is located at the town of Gauley Bridge and is a tributary of the Ohio River. And it really reminded me of the Ohio...wide and flat. Well, until you get to the waterfall.

It's a constant roar in the background that you can't ignore, no matter how hard you strain to hear the birds overhead.

This was my best day of the trip. Very close to being a "verklempt" sort of day.
Long-time readers of this blog might remember how enamored I was of the Dream Team from last year. Well, they are still just great, but Wil and Paul are my new favorites. Sorry, Paco. You've been replaced. My birding heart is a fickle thing.

It was fine that we got to experience the fiery orange of a Hoary Puccoon*:

*That is my new swear word. "Dat beotch ain't nuthin' but a hoary puccoon."

It was nice to finally get a decent, albeit backlit look at a warbling vireo.

Shot with my mad digi-scoping skills. Yeah.

And the hooded warbler was fun to watch, right out in the open.

We've decided that "Hooded" isn't a good enough name for this warbler. We are going to petition to change the name to "Balaclava Warbler". And of course they will listen to us.

The immature bald eagle was cool, even if it was a mile up.

The tiny town surrounding the falls was quiet except for a barooing hound dog.
The post office doesn't look like it gets much mail anymore.

There was a bus. On a rock. In the river.

I laughed out loud as Larry (more about him in another post) helped the bus driver fix the bus.

My breath was swept away by Cathedral Falls.

I hear we are lucky that it had rained the day before, because the water isn't usually a big deal.

So all these things were nice. And I'm laying the credit at the feet of Wil Hershberger and Paul Shaw. (Paul doesn't have a blog, that I know of. I don't think he's even on Facebook. Dude is really UN-connected. And since he doesn't have a blog, that makes him yet another poor dope.)
;)

They worked really well together. Wil always with a smile when one of us (me) asked a stupid question. In fact, I came to Wil whenever I had a question about anything, just to watch him be oh-so-polite and charming.

And Paul worked hard to show us a good time.

Can't see the bird? Well, Paul will get up behind you and make sure to get you on the bird.

And they were such good sports, even with Vickie and me on the trip. I was a bit of a pest, and some of my behavior started to rub off on Vickie. I'm so sorry, Vickie.

The two climaxes of the day:
1. Finally, a GOOD look at a Cerulean Warbler.

The darling little guy bounced right down the tree just as Wil said he would, as if Wil had him on a string. Not a life bird, but definitely a life LOOK.

Climax number 2:
On a hillside lush with rhododendrons, a SWAINSON'S Warbler sat out in the open. For five minutes.

Usually an extremely difficult bird to see, this one was maybe dazed from migration, because it. Just. Sat. There.

Both Wil and Paul got big squeezy hugs for those two birds. Ossum.

And birding aside, I got to enjoy a little silliness with Paul.
The bus was loaded and waiting for us.
We looked at the swing set with longing, then looked at each other.

"Let's SWING!"
And so we did.

Thanks, guys. A great day with a couple of great guides.

Did I contract mono at the NRBNF?

2010-05-05T19:29:00.003-04:00

I've been home from the NRBNF for just about four days, and those days have been a fog.

The old bod is still set to West Virginia mountain time, i.e. Get up at 4:30 a.m., breakfast at 6, bus at 7, bird my ass off until mid-afternoon, drink, sleep and shower off the mud, drink, dinner, drink, presentation, drink, laugh and sleep.
Rinse and repeat 6 days in a row.

All birding festivals are tiring. It's not like the birds come to you....they make you work for that flash of butt they give you.
"Really! That's a Swainson's warbler! I know, it's a bird butt. But trust me!"

I will say that even though the big meanies at the NRBNF make you get up at zero:dark thirty, they make up for it with a good hot protein-packed (bacon!) breakfast and killer dinners.

Lunch is alfresco, cold cuts on a rock on the side of the road. And you don't care that you are sitting on a cold rock with cold meat. You'll eat it and you'll like it!

The ride home from each trip is much quieter than the trip out. So many birds, so many plants, so much fun. I was nearly the youngest participant at this particular festival and I frankly don't know how the older folks were able to hang on as long as they did.

I stayed awake long enough to capture the quickly slouching postures of those around me...

Awwww.....Vickie and Debbie. Don't they look like little angels?

It's a Flock Thing...

2010-05-05T13:29:00.005-04:00

I really don't think I can explain this one. Just chalk it up to the Flock, booze and sleep deprivation.

New River: Bacon

2010-05-03T22:01:00.004-04:00

It's not really Julie that everyone wants to meet and greet.
It's always about the dog.

Chet, along with Bill and Julie, is a staple of the New River Birding and Nature Festival. If you attend this week of fun, you will be greeted at some point by this bundle of love and springs.

When I know I will be seeing Chet, I make sure I have good and chewy treats to feed him so that he will be extra gassy, and he also gets a toy.
Since most dog toys don't last more than a few seconds with Chet, this time I just made him one from fleece scraps that I had left over from projects. I added orange "flagella" and voila. An amoeba.

He always goes right for the seam. Since I had sewn the stitches, I knew this amoeba wasn't long for this world.

"Ack. Polyester stuck in my teeth."

Chet can turn any Blogger into a silly and goofy kid...

Somehow, Chet flipped Sara onto her back....

...and even got Laura (yes, quiet and ladylike Laura) to run around like a goofball trying to play keep-away:

We all become ridiculous around this dog.

And I love him for that. Well, for lots of things.

And during all this fawning over the dog, poor Julie tries to get attention by wearing another dog toy.

Sorry, Zick.

West Virginia, Take 2

2010-05-02T20:19:00.002-04:00

The dust is settling, the bags are being unpacked and the photos are uploading. It's the end of another unforgettable New River Birding and Nature Festival. For past blog posts on this festival, click HERE.

I'm not going to force poetic words tonight, because the week I just had deserves thought and processing to do it justice. But know that I came back a different woman. Again.

Come back tomorrow to read the first installment of "New River 2010".

Proof that Earl is out to get me, any way she can

2010-04-17T19:34:00.004-04:00

I spent the morning at RAPTOR doing some Spring Cleaning...

In other words, scrubbing poop out of my carriers and weeding out the moldy pellets from my education box. I sat in the warm sunshine, up to my elbows in Simple Green with owl poop floating in it and I couldn't have been happier.

People who don't work with birds of prey get understandably a bit oogie when I talk about the large amounts of rat guts to be peeled off a perch, the headless mice tucked away in the corner of a cage that must be dug out (some birds like to stash), the glistening puddles of hawk poop that collect at the base of the walls that will only come free with wire brushes.
Oh, and the vulture puke. There's always that.

Long time readers of the blog know Earl, and they also know just what Earl thinks of me.
For the newbies:
Earl is an imprinted 26-year old female Turkey Vulture. Imprints can be either a blessing (they are more than happy to do whatever you want them to, because they are so into you) or they can be a nightmare for the poor dope who has to handle them. Depending on who you talk to, this is what is going on with Earl:
Earl hates blonds.
Earl hates red-heads.
Earl hates women of any hair color.
Earl loves all men.
Earl is incorrigible.
Earl is trainable.
(Any number of people at the center can refute or back up any of those sentiments)

I can only speak from my own experience. In the beginning, (four years now!) Earl and I were buddies. She came along nicely with no crankiness. A few nibbles on my fingers (love bites, if you will) but she behaved.
A little puke, maybe. But that is par for the course working with vultures.

Something happened, though. One day, I went in to get her, sweet-talking as I usually did and offered her my gloved hand. Something snapped in her little bird brain and she attacked me.
Things haven't gotten much better since then.

When Andi, a past volunteer and extremely cool young lady, asked if she could come around on a Saturday while she was in town, I was more than happy to hang with her.
She has done work with Peregrine and Aplomado Falcons, Common Black Hawks, and I forget what else.
Oh, yeah. California CONDORS.

So when it was time to put Earl back after a weathering period, she offered to grab a glove and do it.
Well, hell yeah. Keeps me from having to do it.
Other volunteers have been working with Earl doing some special positive reinforcement (Earl loves pinkie mice as a snack), but this was just insane to watch (and awesome, too).

Proof that this is all part of Earl's plan to psyche me out, shake my confidence and generally made me look like a boob:

1. Earl steps gently up to Andi's hand, like a little lady:

And Andi said at one point, "Earl, you're so little!" Of course Earl looks little. This woman handles CONDORS. Who weigh in at about 19 pounds or so, compared to Earl's dinky 4 1/2.

2. As Andi tries to untie the falconer's knot on the perch, Earl keeps her serene composure and acts like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth:

3. Earl stands like the perfect little princess she is as Andi wraps the tether around her hand. And it would NEVER occur to Earl to actually BITE someone, for goodness sake:

4. Andi glides across the uneven driveway like a ballerina with precious Earl spreading her wings in a heraldic pose as her graceful, willing and peaceful partner:

I mean, come on.

"Why in the heck would you want to go to West Virginia?"***

2010-04-14T16:23:00.008-04:00

Admit it. You WANT to rent a cabin from this man.
(photo by Jeff Gordon)

***I get asked that question a lot. It usually goes something like this:

Susan: "I can't do blah blah blah. I'm going on a trip that week."
Ignorant Person: (excited) "Yeah? Where ya goin'? "
S: "West Virginia."
IP: "Oh."
S: "Yeah. For a whole week."
IP: "Uh...okay. Umm...why in the heck do you want to go to West Virginia ?"

A birder learns fairly quickly where the birding hot spots are: Cape May, Magee Marsh , Point Reyes....

But other than learning its location and what the capital is in elementary school, I didn't think too much about West Virginia.
It's just that hilly state next to Ohio. It's that state that you cross into for about ten minutes on the way to Pennsylvania.

When we (the Flock, that rowdy and randy group of gals and one guy) decided to all meet up at last year's New River Bird and Nature Festival, I wasn't thinking about the birds too much, or any people other than my little group of rabble-rousers. It was party time, all the time. Or so we thought. Yeah, there would be birds, but really. How good could it really be?

Our eyes were opened in a hurry.
Thanks to the magic of email, I got to cyber-sit with Geoff Heeter recently, and I asked him a few questions:

(there are plenty of places to stay in that part of the state...but Opossum Creek holds a special place in our hearts. I was there last summer, just for an evening and it was fabulous. Silence...except for the wood thrushes fluting in the underbrush. And some crashing that might have been a bear. I highly recommend staying there.)

1. How did you come to live in West Virginia?

She tricked me.

2. Were you into birds before living in WV?

Yes I lived in Costa Rica for a year and my roommate was a ornithologist.

3. How did you get into this business?

We started with The Farm House and it bloomed from there.

4. Tell me about the cabins. Just how "green" are they?

Recycling takes on a whole new meaning when you are talking about houses and building new cabins. They are very green and so are our business practices.

From the Opossum Creek Retreat Cabin Rental's website:

"Back when we got started we didn’t know that we were building green or being eco-friendly or practicing the triple bottom line. We were just trying to be good neighbors, good stewards and good business people.

Giving back to your community, hiring locally, buying locally and using local materials all makes good sense. And for us, building the cabins to last and be efficient cost more up front. (Building a cabin with full grown trees just inches away from every side is much harder than using a bulldozer to clear a flat spot). If all it takes to make a difference is just a little extra effort, a little extra money, then we’ll continue to do that because it has served us very well so far."

5. Did you stick us way out in the Farmhouse because you knew how loud we would be? :)

...it’s the only place that will hold all of you.

(Yeah, right Geoff. We know how boisterous we were. He totally dodged that question.)

6. Do you have a favorite place in WV?

It changes with the seasons and they change fast around here.

7. What do you think West Virginia's greatest asset is?

WV has personality.

8. How did the NRBNF get started? Have you been involved from the start?

Dave and I started it I thought it would be a one year deal... boy was I off on that guess.

9. Can we expect anything new this year at the festival?

Of Course... we are always listening to the feedback and trying to improve our Festival. We have new field trips, new food, new guides, new T shirts…..

10. Do you need a vacation after each festival?

No I just click my heels together and say there’s no place like home there is no place like home……and everyone is gone and all I hear are birds singing.

(I've had visions of all of them watching the last car pull away from the property and when it's out of sight, they all fall to the ground, twitching.)

In just ten days, a whole new batch of strange people...whoops, I mean strangers....and some old regulars will converge on the New River Bird and Nature Festival and behold the beauty, the wildness, the grandeur and the hospitality that is West Virginia.

This year's New River Flock is as follows:

Nina :)

Mary :)

Sara (yee!) and Kelly

Murr (OMG)

Molly :)

Debbie :) (She's driving...from COLORADO. Jesus, I hope we're worth it.)

Vickie :)

Added to that list are a few people who I don't know and haven't even spoken to. I hear they are good sports, so we probably won't scar them too much. And Kathi is going to be in the area at another event (slacker) and will be crashing the party on Tuesday, wherever it happens to be.

Even if you can't make it to this particular festival, do yourself a favor and visit West Virginia. You will leave a piece of your heart there.

And be sure to rent a cabin from this guy.

Owl networking

2010-04-03T22:00:00.005-04:00

My local great horned owls, both at Lake Isabella and Symmes Township Park, seem to have taken the year off from parenting. This isn't uncommon, but I've been lost not having nests to watch obsessively.(Notice how I said they were "my" owls?)

When I read on Facebook (that evil place that is killing my blog) that Ann Oliver had spotted great horned owl chicks at Rapid Run Park and alerted Jeff so he could band them, I knew how to spend Saturday morning.

Disapproval starts early.

Ann has mad skills when it comes to providing a crowd with sweet breakfast foods...an assortment of danishes and donuts, coffee, juice,

...and this insanely awesome tablecloth.

And up Jeff goes:

I was thrilled to be able to actually assist in the banding today, helping with the raising and lowering of ropes, the bag containing the chicks, general go-fering. Since I want to be able to do this myself someday, it was great to get my hands in and really help. And learn.

Though I hold Sylvester all the time:(Of which he disapproves, but tolerates)
...I had never held a owl chick before today.
These chicks weren't the small and relatively docile age that I have seen before. These guys were approaching 5 weeks old, and they were...um...feisty.

This mantling is typical behavior, to make themselves appear larger.
But since these guys were older, they had better use of their feet and I had to watch out for a bit of lunging and biting, too.
I was over the moon, though. Being a part of this, handling these mixtures of cute and dangerous, well. It was flippin' fantastic.

Jeff mentioned a behavior he has observed in other nests that is as funny as it is mysterious.
The first chick is banded and then lowered to the ground. The second chick is banded and also lowered to the ground. They are separated for no more than a few minutes, but when they are reunited, they act like they have never seen each other before. They mantle and hiss as if a fierce war is about to commence.
Do they actually "forget" each other in those few minutes? Or are they just in defense mode, at any thing that is close by?

Ann was inspiring to watch. As dog walkers walked by, she engaged them in conversation, and let them look through her scope at the adult owl watching us from a distance.

Ann doesn't have a blog to link to. Yet another poor dope. :)

Through all the activity surrounding her nest and babies, Mama Owl sat in a nearby conifer and pretended to sleep.

But you gotta have friends.....

2010-03-26T19:35:00.004-04:00

"I get by with a little help from my friends..."
~Joe Cocker

"Friends are God's way of apologizing for our families."
~Unknown

I've always been grateful for the friends of high quality I have picked up over the years. My best friend, who I somehow get to see about twice a year, knows everything there is to know about me and she still loves me.
My friends of the Flock are the newest addition to my stable of blessings. From right up the road to all over the country, I can count on help when I need it, and they know that they can get the same from me.
As I said in this post, I am effectively camera-less. When Mary heard of this, she made the hugely generous gesture of offering her spare camera for me to borrow until I could get a replacement.

I was floored. We nature lovers/birders know how much our cameras mean to us, so this was a big deal.

It arrived today, and since it arrived in the afternoon, I didn't have a lot of time to going birding or anything. So I took random photos of random things, you know...just to kick the tires so to speak:

Hazard light button (macro from about a centimeter away):

A dumpster at the United Dairy Farmers from really far away..the zoom on this thing is FABULOUS, and when it comes to nature photography (and dumpster photography for that matter) zoom is very important:

Magnolia bud that somehow avoided freezing last night (macro):

Hooper (from about 25 feet away):

And also at the UDF, Kathi striking a pose:

There are lots and lots of little functions to learn...and I can't wait to master them all.
Tomorrow I'm taking it to RAPTOR to see how it makes my birds look!
THANK YOU MARY !!!!!!

Blame it on the daffodils

2010-03-19T22:34:00.007-04:00

Those of you who are longtime readers of this blog will remember the "Camera Fiasco". (Click here for the big ol' stinking rant)
The camera I received for all that drama turned out to be a pretty good one. Insane zoom for a mid-priced camera, and it had plenty of bells and whistles for me to figure out and exploit.
It took all the abuse of Cape May 2008, New River 2009, and I was hoping it would come along for New River 2010.Last night, we decided to go to a local pizzeria (very cool...it was built in the old water works building in Loveland and makes fab fire-baked pizza) and while we waited for a table (we weren't the only people who thought The Works was a good idea for dinner) I wanted to walk down to the tracks that come along the back of the building to see some fresh blooming daffodils.

We were milling about, kicking gumballs and enjoying the daffodils growing under the trees. Lorelei wanted to learn how to take macro shots, so I pushed the appropriate buttons on my camera and showed her how to focus. A few minutes later, she slipped on some gumballs and went down.
I snatched her up and checked for fountaining blood or foreign objects. When none were found, I brushed off her knees and gave her a kiss.

Geoff said, "That was impressive."
Me: "What was?"
Geoff: "Well, you are more concerned about Lorelei than your camera."
Me (I'm a little slow sometimes): "What ABOUT my camera?"
Geoff: "It hit the ground when Lorelei fell."

I wasn't worried too much...I've dropped it a few times. But not when the lens barrel was extended. I pressed the power button, and it powered off. But the barrel didn't retract.

SHIT.
After several tries, I knew the lens barrel was off track or the motor shattered or some other horrible internal tragedy had occurred.

We were seated inside a few minutes later, and the remainder of the dinner was spent with me in barely controlled tears, and Lorelei was quiet. Isabelle, in a show of immense sweetness, offered to let me borrow hers until I could get a new one. (Hers is a small, pocket camera, but I was moved by the gesture)
We do have a spare that only needed a charger and cable, and though it has a pitifully short zoom, it will have to tide me over for a few weeks until payday.

I'm pretty sure that Lorelei doesn't understand how much money it will cost to replace my camera (and though I took it in for a quote, since it will cost upwards of $200 to fix, we aren't going to bother) she also didn't apologize.

I don't blame her, not one bit. She fell, it was an accident. But a "I'm sorry, Mommy" would have made me feel a little better.

So I blame the daffodils.

The 7th annual Adams County Bird Symposium*

2010-03-07T17:26:00.008-05:00

*I will never do it justice. It's just awesome.

This weekend brought the 7th annual Adams County Bird Symposium, which I have blogged about here. It's probably the most unusual symposium I've attended, smack dab in the middle of Amish country.

As usual, I picked up my birds the night before and stayed at a hotel near the event. I usually enjoy this time to myself, to hang with the birds, watch TV and listen to the woodcocks in the field behind the hotel. Now, I don't know if it was the change of seasons, the sodium levels in the McDonald's food, or the bleach odor coming from the pillow cases and sheets....but I got a migraine. A migraine that kept me awake all night long.
Six o'clock rolled into view and I was able to make it to an open gas station for ibuprofen. I'm not trying to whine about this but to set the stage. I performed my RAPTOR duties with NO SLEEP.
The closest Starbucks is an hour away from the event.
Thankfully, I had previously set up a coffee rendezvous, in the form of Les, my Yoda (this post and this post).

Les came blowing into town with his "winning" personality (first thing he said to me was "What's up, dork?") and a bucketful of Starbucks coffee for me. thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou

This revved my engine enough for the day to begin.

Vendors at the symposium range from Ann Geise, artist and field naturalist, to Ron Austing to the Ohio Ornithological Society to some Amish folks selling Leica optics.

I have to say that my little RAPTOR table was pretty popular. Every break brought huge crowds back to my corner to photograph the birds, ask questions and general oohing and ahhing.

Didn't realize that part of the Amish birdhouse/garden art table was in this shot.
I think the "Sweet Tweets" thing was a bench. Cute, huh?

This was Storm's second annual appearance at the symposium, since he's a local boy.
(He was found there in 2007,just a few miles from where the event is held)

He spent a good bit of time on the floor, instead of his perch (he hates perches)...

...and at one point, he fell asleep:

Go to this post to read about Storm's "Golden T".

He also spent a lot time on TOP of his carrier, which is unusual.
I don't usually let the birds sit there, but it made him happy and kept him from
a. Being underfoot and attacking my shins, and
b. Jumping around and irritating his legs by yanking on his jesses.

Thirteen the Screech Owl did his best Animatronic impression, to the delight of the crowd:

I am always careful to bring birds that will be a good fit for the venue where we will be presenting. A large, quiet room is a good place to bring our Red-tailed Hawks, our Barred Owl and Kestrels or Earl the Turkey Vulture, while a noisy, constantly moving crowd would suit Lucy and the rest of our owls.
Part of being an animal presenter is knowing the limits of your animal. This was a noisy crowd with an overnight stay involved.
I overnighted our Red-tails once.
That won't be happening again.

But I can't stand it anymore and have to tell you about the day's highlight.

I was holding Lucy the Peregrine Falcon and answering questions during a break. My energy was flagging and I wondered how I would be able to stay awake for the rest of the afternoon.
(I vaguely remember Les calling me "a Princess", but I didn't smack him because
a. I didn't have the energy, and
b. He brought me coffee so I owed him my soul.)

Out of the crowd a man appears and asks if I would bring Lucy up during his talk.
I looked up at him...and it was Thane Maynard.

Being from Cincinnati, I was born knowing who he was, but if you don't know, here's a quickie bio:
He is the director of the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Gardens.
He does a daily show on NPR called "The Ninety-Second Naturalist".
He has appeared on Good Morning America, the Today Show, CBS This Morning, and Late Night with Conan O'Brien.
He has co-authored a book with Jane Goodall.

Okay? He's kind of a big deal.

I knew he was going to be a speaker, and I was in full-on Geek-Out mode, but when he just materialized, I felt my knees go a little weak.
He knew Lucy's name and how she came to be at RAPTOR. I don't know how he knew that.
So he wanted me to bring Lucy up during his talk about conservation success stories, etc.

I tried to be cool as I said, "Sure. I'd love to."

After he walked away, I looked around at some of my friends near the table and the squealing began.

I somehow got through those two minutes of standing up there with him. My face was on FIRE and my voice was shaky, but everyone said I did okay.

So, anyhoo: Here's a photo of me, Lucy and Thane Maynard!!

(Photo by my awesome sister-in-law Rachel, who was as geeked out as I was)

When it comes

2010-02-28T20:46:00.003-05:00

As the third rock from our Sun hurtles through space, tilting once again on its axis to soak up the rapidly approaching warmth, my mind spins too.
The latest trip around the Sun, full of so many pages like a book.

And dispersed through my book, like chapter plates, the birds I love and respect, who also await the warmth from under a dusting of snow:

The last of the food supply with a skin of ice

gives way to moss and the antennae it throws out:

A rare blue in a flower unfurls and reaches out with fairy toes dipped in colored sugars:

A new generation will be born in a cup of softness from fur that I lovingly collected for months:

When the dogwood throws itself open in a thousand tiny glories,

fierceness gets a new face:

When it comes, the ice will fracture and our hearts and minds can expand once again, to ride the next trip around the Sun.

When it comes, I can sing again.

Big Red

2010-02-17T21:53:00.004-05:00

A male cardinal visited my car today, while I was in it...
I thought he was just showing territory aggression, but after observing him for a while, I wonder if he was just in love with my car.

Very little crest-raising, very little battling the mirror image...

He spent a lot of time at the corner of the windshield, and made motions like he was drinking.
Looking for liquid water?

Interestingly, he occasionally tapped on the glass, then preened that bald spot on his chest.
He did this multiple times.
OCD?

Good rule of thumb: Don't do anything stupid* around me.

2010-02-04T21:07:00.005-05:00

*Especially when you are in a work truck, making it extremely easy for me to tell on you. Because I WILL.

Hello everyone! I'm back, and with a story to share.
I saw a flock of ring-billed gulls in the Kmart parking lot, so I thought I would grab some lunch and go over and sit with the gulls while I ate.
While I was sharing my french fries with the flock, two different people came by and dumped huge amounts of bread and whatnot for the gulls. (Now I know why they congregate there) This was done in a furtive fashion, as if they didn't want anyone to know that they were doing it.

One of the gulls caught my eye as being different than the others. One foot dangled uselessly from his leg.

The general floppiness and the color of it told me that this was probably a dead foot and this poor dude wouldn't make it. I actually, briefly wondered if I could catch him and take him to a rehabber.

I came to my senses. This was a flighted bird, and I had no net.

This particular bird made me laugh out loud.

He was ruling the parking lot with his head-throwing and bullying. I was enjoying all of the vocalizations...the typical 'gull' cries, weird gruff moaning, some very eerie chuckling...And check the camo...gulls are well suited for parking lots, at least in their first few years, aren't they?

I set the camera to "Video" to capture all the cool sounds.
(Some people hate gulls....like I hate house sparrows. To each his own. Personally, I love gulls)

As the camera ran, a truck came barreling into the shot, scattering the gulls. I followed with my eyes instead of the camera...a township truck had intentionally tried to hit the flock of gulls.
I just sat there with my mouth hanging open.
I snapped out of it and used my binoculars to read the number on the truck and to get a physical description of the driver (he had parked and gone into Kmart).
So here I was, with not only his truck number and what he looked like, I HAD VIDEO EVIDENCE of what he did.
Hmmm...what's a girl to do?
I emailed his boss at the township headquarters.
It felt good. Oh yes it did.

Look for yourself:

But let's take the birds out of the equation. He is still driving diagonally across an active parking lot at about 40 mph.
I am awaiting a response. And I will be certain to share that response with you.

I'm BACK!

2010-01-28T23:00:00.002-05:00

Well, gentle readers, it's been 12 days and counting since I stopped smoking.
I feel really good, I smell better!!!! and I want to get back to blogging.
Stories and photos on their way....

Watch this space

2010-01-18T21:21:00.001-05:00

Everyone, please excuse the emptiness of this blog while I attempt to quit smoking.

I will be back when I have something pleasant to say.

:)
Wish me luck!

Non-sequiterous post

2010-01-13T19:10:00.004-05:00

I made up that word. Yes, I did.

It snowed last week:

"I like da snew, Mamma."

I tried not to cuss as the snow fell, giving the kids yet another day off school.
I failed.

It was pretty, as it fell (by southern Ohio standards) in massive amounts.
A light, fluffy snow that was easy to plow and keep ahead of.
Didn't keep the numbnuts out there from panicking and running off roads all over the area.

Empty, for now.....

January 15th is the"safe date" for nesting Great Horned Owls around here...some of the pairs start right on schedule. The Lake Isabella pair seems to favor the end of January into the beginning of February.
Click here and here for other posts about this nest.
Just a few more days until I can start checking the can obsessively.

Our neighbor walks right past one of the RSHA (the big orange lollipop) resting near our prairie:

New River Update:
People started coming out of the woodwork after my last post...and there are a few spots still available at the Farmhouse. If you want to come along and have the time of your life, email me at capricorn1273@cinci.rr.com ASAP. There aren't many slots left for the festival...and we need to register NOW.

2010-01-07T19:50:00.005-05:00

(Photo by Laura Hardy)

If you read this blog, or the blogs of "The Flock", then you know how much fun we had in West Virginia last Spring.
The time is rolling around again, and so far, we only have two, maybe three Flock members going.
Consider this an official Welcome Mat to anyone who would like to come along to the New River Birding and Nature Festival April 26 through May 1, 2010. That is only about four months away, and if you want a SWEET deal on lodging and trips and the whole shebang, email me at:
capricorn1273@cinci.rr.com
The Farmhouse, a sweet rental property of Opossum Creek Cabin Rentals, has space for 8, with no one having to share a bed. (12 if we share beds....!) A package deal is VERY affordable...the more people, the smaller each person's share. There's a full kitchen, two bathrooms, and a HOT TUB ON THE BACK DECK.

If you missed the posts I did about New River, click HERE.

It's hard to describe what New River did to all of us. Yes, we laughed, we birded, we stooped in the mud crying over salamanders...but it was so much more than that, more far-reaching.
Some people I spent the week with, I knew already. Some I met for the first time.
The beauty of the West Virginia mountains, the lush plant life, the unbelievable birds we encountered, the absolutely STELLAR guides, the food, the presentations....adding all of us bloggers to that turned into magic.

The line-up for this year's presenters:

Monday, April 26 – Jim McCormac
Tuesday, April 27 – Mark Garland
Wednesday, April 28 – Jeff Gordon
Thursday, April 29 – Bill Hilton, Jr
Friday, April 30 – Julie Zickefoose
Saturday, May 1 – Bill Thompson, III and Julie Zickefoose musical performance

The festival registration website is a bit confusing, and don't panic at the prices. Email me and we can discuss the fees. Seriously, you want to do this.
(If we can't fill the Farmhouse, there are other cabins...but we should act fast. Please come along.)

A year.

2010-01-01T00:50:00.003-05:00

So it's customary to take this time of year to reflect on where we have been in the past year, mentally and physically.
2009 was tough for those of us who aren't independently wealthy.
2009 brought us our first African American president. I finally voted for a winner.

And the blog morphed a bit, not so much that anyone would notice, but I feel differently about it than I did back when I began it in 2005.

The blog, in review:
(And subsequently, my year in review)
It's very linky. So just take your time...it's not like you have anything better to do, right?
Some of my favorites...whether they make me sad to read again or they make me laugh at myself.

January 1, 2009...birding with Kathi at Armleder.

February 4, 2009: The big Snow Adventure.

February 15, 2009: A Sleeping Storm.

February 28, 2009: Earl Kills a Paper Bag.

March 1, 2009: A Ten-eagle day.

March 10, 2009: An Open Letter to a Stupid and Lazy person.

March 16, 2009: A gesture that shows why we all love Lynne.

March 30, 2009: Talking about Dad.

April 1, 2009: No April Fools.

April 18, 2009: Banding and Fostering a baby Great Horned Owl.

May, 2009: It was all about the New River Bird and Nature Festival. Here . And here (We Are Family). And here (Uh oh. The Lady in Red!). And here (Paco). And here (My Perfect Day).

June 20, 2009: I go back to West Virginia, then back to where I came from.

June 28, 2009: A walk in the woods with a Perfect Stranger, who is not longer a stranger.

July 10, 2009: It is not for you.

July 12, 2009: My Yoda.

July 27, 2009: Monarchs in my kitchen.

August 5, 2009: Pablo Neruda

August 25, 2009: Lorelei's first day of Kindergarten.

September 5, 2009: Hello. My name is Earl.

September 26, 2009: An Osprey just for me.

October 4, 2009: The coldest I have ever been in my life.

October 10, 2009: Why I love them.

October 28, 2009: My little girl in the Bahamas.

November 3, 2009: A flock and a Friend.

November 8, 2009: One Triangle Goose.

December 1, 2009: Why birds?

December 10, 2009: We are our own paparazzi.

Running the gauntlet

2009-12-26T21:42:00.002-05:00

The past few years, I have wised up and only asked for one or two things for Christmas. Sure I could tell people that I want socks, and clothes, a gadget that helps me find my keys, and an automatic bra warmer*. But I have learned that to make it easier for people who care about me, I just say I want ONE THING.
Last year, I wanted a Garmin. And Geoff delivered. Easy.

This year, it was simple. I wanted a triple-layer, 17-inch eagle glove from Mike's Falconry. A glove that has three layers of cowhide from the elbow all the way down to the tips of the fingers.
IMPENETRABLE.

If you are new to this blog, I handle some rather persnickety birds of prey and my arm resembles the arm of a person who indulges in heroin. I was tired of putting my limbs in mortal peril every time I took out one of our red-tailed hawks (big females with attitudes that defy any words to describe them).
So that's all I talked about....the glove. The eagle gauntlet. My arm and how much I like it to remain sealed in its protective covering.

My Mom delivered this year. It makes the decision easy for your mother when all you want is something that will protect the skin that she used to rub baby lotion into.

I lovingly rubbed melted Jess Grease into the new, beautiful masterpiece of leather-making.
The first bird I tried it on was my Lucy:

(Photo taken by balancing my camera on Lucy's rock perch, among the feathers, guts and feet of the previous day's meal of quail)
I tried it on Scarlet, one of our Red-tailed Hawks. She jumped around too much for a photo (I got lots of hawk-shaped blurs).

Priscilla the Barred Owl was next...

And let me just say that this glove, in all of its triple-layer glory, is overkill for our smaller birds.
A simple, single layer is all that is needed. Their feet, while armed with pointy ends, are not really strong enough to puncture more than one layer of leather.
But I will be using the new glove anyhoo.
:)

I couldn't even feel Storm's feet through all of that leather. For all of his bravado, his feet are small and dainty.

I enjoyed watching those dainty feet scrape and gouge the new leather:

The more I use the glove, the softer and more pliable it will become.

It was time to try it on Isis, our leucistic Red-tailed Hawk.
Isis is a very large RTHA. A rather strong RTHA. A rather jumpy RTHA. A RTHA who squeaks like a dog toy.
I went in to get her today, and after a minute of fake-out jumping and squeaking, I got hold of one of her jesses and lifted her. She was NOT coming quietly, and struck out with her free foot.
And she found the only vulnerable area on the entire glove...the tips of the fingers. All of that leather needs to be sewn together somewhere, and just one of her eight talons sliced through the seam on the end of my third finger.
I got her off my hand and went to the barn. I took off my glove and there was a nice ribbon of blood unfurling from the end of my finger.
Deep and messy. Not serious, but..... I got to thinking that I hadn't had a tetanus booster in a while. Like 20 years or so.
When I first started at RAPTOR, someone suggested that I get a booster, because I WOULD get hurt at some point. That was nearly four years ago. Did I listen? Nooooooo.
So I spent the afternoon today waiting in an Urgent Care office to get a booster shot.

Sylvester:
"I disapprove of you bleeding."

* Come to think of it, that's not a bad gift idea.

Book Review: Oscar and Olive Osprey: A Family Takes Flight

2009-12-17T20:45:00.004-05:00

If you have a young birder (or any young person, because frankly, all children should learn more about nature) on your Christmas list, you can't go wrong with Janie Suss' biography of a family of osprey.

Long known as the "Bird Lady" in her neighborhood, Janie sees the need for more nesting sites for the multitude of osprey who live near the Chesapeake Bay. She convinces her husband to help build a nesting platform at the end of their pier, and so begins a year-long journey she takes with the two adult osprey who choose her creation to begin a family.

The book chronicles the trials and joys of Oscar and Olive, and later, their offspring, as two osprey become a family. Janie lovingly writes of the parallels of a bird family and her own: The love of parents for their children, and the sometimes challenging job of being a sibling.

Written mostly from the *ospreys' point of view, it is an easy read for children and a book that begs to be shared by parents and kids alike.
*(Anthropomorphism isn't something that I endorse, usually. But this story can help bring a child closer to the knowledge that birds do care about their children, just as human parents care about theirs.)

The end of the book has resources for building your own osprey platform, and some fun facts about osprey. (I will interject this: One small correction...osprey are not the only raptor to possess opposable toes.)

A fun, light story to bring children closer not only to the lives of birds, but a lovely story about family, either feathered or otherwise.
Click here to order.

My rating: One and a half wings up!

Some days are better than others.

2009-12-11T20:16:00.003-05:00

I nearly dismissed them as Canada Geese.

I was backing the car up the driveway when I saw a wavy line of birds coming over the neighborhood. I glanced up and then went back to concentrating on not driving into the neighbor's yard. But a rattle call floated down to me, and both of my feet slammed down on the brakes. And I shouted out loud, to no one, "Holy sh*t! Sandhill Cranes!!!"

Sandhill Cranes. Over OUR house.

Around thirty of them slowly peddled overhead, as I held the camera in one hand and clutched my chest with the other. Sandhill Cranes as a yard bird. Never would have thought.
Another flock came by a few minutes later, so I grabbed Geoff off his chair to show him.

While waiting for the schoolbus, yet another flock. More than 100 cranes in about 20 minutes.

I talked to myself a lot yesterday afternoon.

Another day, another bird:
I read that a Bald Eagle was seen near the "gravel pits", (click here to read about me finding a baldie in the same place a few years ago...and there are a few funny kid stories in that post, too) about 10 minutes from the house, so that was my target bird today.

Delivered. With a bow and sparkles.

Usually when I would look for an eagle on this stretch of road, it would involve driving down the road past the gravel pit, turning around and driving back. Over and over.
But today, as soon as I started down the road, a large dark bird materialized in a tree immediately.

And I started talking to myself immediately.
"Well, hello there, Bald EAGLE!"
I thought that I would also find plenty of birders there, too. But I had the bird to myself.
Which made me cry.
And I walked as I cried, closer and closer, keeping my profile to the bird, pretending that I wasn't looking at him.
I realized how far I had walked, so I stopped and looked up at the eagle. I was about fifty feet away.
And he was staring right into my eyes.

I forgot all about not staring at him, (raptors don't like to be stared at) and just froze in my tracks. I looked into those icy white eyes for what seemed like forever, until HE broke eye contact and went back to watching the American Coots panic down on the lake.
And a few minutes later, he began to preen. Birds don't preen unless they are relaxed.

It is mind-blowing to me when a bird (or any wild animal) is so utterly unconcerned with a human being so close.
So I cried a little more. It's okay if you want to call me a sissy-pants. I had a bald eagle all to myself in beautiful sunshine today. *sticks tongue out*

I came home, and dragged myself to the laundry room to figure out how many piles I would have to move to be able to enter the room.
The laundry room faces what we call "The Waiting Tree", a knarly tree that is a favorite perch for all of the raptors who visit the yard.
And there sat a red-shouldered hawk.
This is a different bird than the one doing the orange lollipop thing a few days ago. That one had a very dark face...this one was gray in the cheeks.

And banded. Maybe the one featured up in my header?
(If you click on the photo and view the large size, you can just make out the band on its right leg. And some blood on the talons. Sweeeeet.)

We are our own Paparazzi

2009-12-10T21:39:00.006-05:00

When I first heard this song*, all of the photos of the Flock, in all its incarnations, came flooding into my mind. When we are all together, we are constantly snapping away at each other with our cameras like crazed tourists.
Yes, we go to birding festivals to see the birds. But it's the faces of our friends that make the trips memorable.
I'm in desperate need of new photos of my peeps. I have been recycling the same ones over and over.
*I adore Lady Gaga. Can't stop listening to this song!

Next festival for me is New River Bird and Nature Festival. Click here to learn more.
(Hey, you Flock members and quasi-Flock members? If you want to go, email me at capricorn1273ATcinci.rr.com so we can talk about lodging. We can try to fill the Farmhouse again. Seriously. We can get a good deal.)

And if I can swing it (i.e. Geoff doesn't have kittens about it), I want to see the great open spaces of North Dakota at the Potholes and Prairies Festival in June.

Hawk in the prairie

2009-12-07T20:16:00.004-05:00

Stuck in the house today, I spent a large amount of time watching the birds at the feeders.
Aside from the juncos, white-throated sparrows, cardinals, chickadees and titmice, it's always a treat to see a bird of prey swoop in and scare the pants off everyone else.

This red-shouldered hawk flew in, neatly bounced off the fence and headed for the back yard.
(And in the process, caused all the songbirds to scatter to the four winds)
RSHA aren't above snatching a small bird, but it's rodents they are after. The songbirds don't take any chances, though.

I always look for bands, since the RSHA families down the street are outfitted with jewelry every year, but this one was too fluffed out for me to see its legs.
{Click here to hear how Red-shouldered hawks are called in for visual verification.}

It sat near our property value-decreasing prairie and looked for all the world like an orange lollipop.

Red-shouldered hawks make me catch my breath every time they decide to enter our yard. That orange chest, those red shoulders, the bold black and white banded tail. Delicious.
Aside from the wee American Kestrel, they are the most colorful of Ohio's raptors.
If they ever decided to nest here in our yard, I would be in raptor heaven. We definitely have the food supply.
Go out in your yard and find a place to start a prairie. Doesn't have to be big. You just have to NOT MOW IT, and fill it with native grasses and wildflowers. It will give you immense pleasure and the wildlife will throng to it.

Later on, I laughed out loud when a Cooper's hawk barreled into a tree near the feeders and caused all of the songbirds to violently poop in unison.
I do love my yard.

Why birds?

2009-12-01T19:48:00.003-05:00

I don't know if anyone has ever asked me outright, "Why birds? Why are they so fascinating to you? Why not squirrels, or whales, or horses?"
But I see the question in the faces of those non-birders. They don't get it. Why would a sane person stare at birds for hours? Or stare down long highways for hours, to maybe get a chance to see a bird they have never seen before? Or WORK with BIRDS?

Now, squirrels and whales and horses are fascinating in their own way. But I'm not a squirreler. Or a whaler. Or an equestrian.
I'm a birder.

So, why birds?
Well, have you got a few hours to hear all the reasons? No? Okay. I will keep it short.

1. Ease of access.
Our not-quite one acre piece of land has seen at least 61 different species of bird. And those are just the ones I have seen or heard myself. There are most certainly more out there, just invisible to my eyes or silent to my ears.

And sometimes, they alight on my fingertips.

Birds are the easiest form of wildlife to attract to your yard. Seed, suet, insects, water, a place to rest and a place to nest. That's all they need. And in return, they stick around and make life brighter. It's simple. It's fun. It's rewarding.

2. Variety
There are nearly 10,000 different types of birds on our planet. So what if there are zillions of types of insects and so on. Birds are easier to see. :)

All shapes and sizes and colors:

Huge, fierce osprey

Tiny, fierce ruby-throated hummingbirds.

Traffic light prothonotary warblers.

Fat, brown flickers.

Sleek, powerful great blue herons.

And it's not too difficult to find fuzz.

Rebel teenager pileated woodpecker.

Silky fuzzy baby mallard.

3. Coolness
Flight. Unbelievably long migrations. Songs that stir our blood.

Our sweet, misdirected Junior, during his flight demonstration training in Illinois.
Look at those wings. Very cool.

A young Cooper's Hawk on our front fence, chowing down on fresh house sparrow.
Look at those talons. Tres' cool.

A sleepy Barred Owl in our side yard, who didn't care that I was 10 feet from him.
Look at those eyes. Uber-cool.

And a face that sums up all that I love and hold dear to my heart regarding birds.
I get to hold this on my hand. To stare into fathomless eyes and see myself in them.
I feel the grip of hundreds of pounds-per-square inch.
Sometimes they scream at me in their language.
Two-inch talons sometimes draw my blood.
When they breath out, I breath in.

"You know that I tolerate you because I choose to, right?"

What I am thankful for (2009 edition)

2009-11-25T20:34:00.003-05:00

Book review: A Year on the Wing

2009-11-24T09:55:00.009-05:00

"It is hard to sleep under a northern summer night. At midsummer in Shetland rain gallops on the roof. Outside, arctic terns and blackbirds keep up their noises through the darkless night, a troubling mix of scream and serenade, harangue and consolation."

So begins A Year on the Wing (Free Press, October 2009) by Tim Dee. As I held the book for the first time and started to turn its pages, I felt pulled into a world that was both familiar and totally alien. Though Mr. Dee lives in England, the birds he pulls from the literary air are similar enough to an American birder for us to instantly form a bond with what he is seeing.

This compact and filled to overflowing book covers a year in the life of birds. From June to May, we follow Tim Dee from Shetland and diving gannets, to woodcocks in Cambridge, to a lack of peregrine falcons at the Gorge at Bristol. A dip into North America brings him face to face with Western Bluebirds, which he paints for us:

" I saw a pair of science-fiction birds, Western Bluebirds, their electric blue marking them as birds from the future, or rather from an old color-saturated version of the future: a 1950s bird dreaming of the space race."

He takes us back to his three-year-old self, chasing his first swallows, onto a painful mental connection between peregrines and the death of a stranger, and the first time he held a wren for ringing (banding). This book holds more than the binding can contain: A world of birds and our desire and ultimate failing to make them ours.

Full of muscular language and unexpected pairings of ideas, this is a book to curl up with on a snowy weekend. It cannot be skipped through like a summer field, but sipped and savored as a flavorful, hot mug of coffee.

Get two copies: One to give to a bird-loving friend, and one to keep for yourself.

Susan's Score: Two Wings Up.
Click here to buy.

Some time on the scale, everything you ever wanted to know about raptor poop but were afraid to ask, and Lucy plays a game

2009-11-18T22:03:00.006-05:00

Being a captive bird of prey at RAPTOR, Inc. is a pretty good life. Free meals, cage set-ups that keep most of the rain and snow out, and my winning personality which trounces in every few days to keep their minds active.

One of my duties as education director is to monitor our birds for signs of poor health:
Talon/beak issues: Captive birds have a limited diet, and talon and beak deformities can be a sign of liver trouble.

Swellings: Example...Lucy's tumor.

Breathing problems: Raspy, labored breathing could be symptoms of aspergillus, a fungal infection, or could be a sign of aspiration.

Bad breath: Really. It's true. Bad breath can be a sign of a crop that cannot completely empty itself. Lucy's breath, though, smells like Skyline Chili. Yet another reason I love her so much

Checking mutes (That's raptor poop, for you non-aficionados):
A healthy bird will shoot out nice, well-defined poop that is a white puddle of liquid (urate) a little pile of fecal matter (the consistency of toothpaste) in the middle and a clear liquid that flushes it from their system (the "pee"). Green or red liquid or solid is to be reported.

Weight fluctuations:
Birds weigh different amounts depending on the time of year or whether they have a full or empty crop. A full crop (say, 20 grams worth of mouse) can dramatically affect the weight of a 150 gram screech owl. Our birds are weighed periodically to track any drastic changes.
The other day, it was a parade of owls on the scale.

The scale is a simple table scale, like one you would weigh mail with, and a modified perch on top:

Storm, our Barn Owl, weighed in at 460 grams. (If you forget how to translate grams into pounds, 453.6 grams equals 1 pound) His attitude says that he thinks he tops off about 275 pounds.
I lift the swivel ( the metal doo-hickey that we use to tether the birds to our hand) so that it is not being added to the weight.

Priscilla our Barred Owl weighed in slightly more that Storm, just about 1 1/4 pounds.
Barred owls look huge, but in reality they are fluffy feather pillows with a stick in the middle.

Big Man Sylvester topped the scales at 1500 grams, or 3.3 pounds. And unlike Barred Owls, Great Horned Owls are all muscle. They are feathered bricks.

Lucy our Peregrine Falcon, as it turns out, has a sense of humor.
Saturday, as I was doing my weekly visual check of all the program birds, I stopped in Lucy's mew. I asked her to step up and checked her wing. All was well there.
I let her step back onto her rock perch, and she leaned forward, turning her head back and forth. I usually hand feed her when I am there, so she was waiting for food to appear in my hand. I picked up a mouse from her feeding block, and offered it to her.
She grabbed it willingly...then leaned forward and let it drop to the ground at my feet. I bent over and picked it up. Offered it to her again, and the same thing happened. I watched her as I did it a third and fourth time, and she was practically leaning into my face, watching me every time I bent to pick up the mouse.
She was playing.

Birds of prey in Autumn sunlight

2009-11-12T19:27:00.003-05:00

I love the light of Autumn. It infuses everything with a richness that would be missed in other seasons.

Our new education screech owl, Thirteen...at this past weekend's Pumpkin Chuck:
(I didn't get to see any pumpkin chucking. I was mobbed by the public when they saw our birds)

I sure do love that bird. He thinks he is 10 feet tall.

Sylvester was a peach, as usual.
The only thing that makes that bird react is nesting season. He is showing signs of it now...and it's not like he becomes a punk or anything. Just gets his feathers ruffled a bit more.
Good bird.

(I even caught a circling turkey vulture above his head.)

Lucy was more than happy to demonstrate the art of raptor gourmet eating:

The quail never saw it coming.

This morning, a red-shouldered hawk awaited me as I left for the day:

Glowing with that unique Fall sunrise.

It retired to the house next door as I pulled out of the driveway.

Ah, that red. More pure and more hot than any Crayola color.

And finally, take off:

"Look, Ma! No bands!"