Small moments

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. 

Happy Independence Day!

Big Red

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?

Why birds?

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?"

It is not for you

You do not know our voice
A lifetime of study cannot hold
Our words in your mind

You do not know of what we speak
Or what we say that is true

We scold your presence
And you do not hear the meaning

We call to others like us
For the continuation of ourselves,
Yelling away the dangers,
To pass a message that is not meant for you

You strain to hear us




High and sweet





Gruff and low



In your arrogance you memorize
The cadence of our kind
But with ten thousand voices
We speak above you


You can hold us for a moment in your hands
To feel the fierce beating of our hearts



But even in that time of intimacy
When you seek to know us,
Small chipping and shrieking screams
Tell a tale that cannot be translated
Into human tongue.


We sing to the skies
To the beyond you cannot see

You assume you know of what we sing to
Putting our phrases into words
And into those words you glean your own ideas


For all the knowledge your brain can hold
It cannot process the heights we praise.

We do not sing for you.

Some of my lifers from Florida (in a cute little slideshow)

Yeti

This time of year makes me want to run around the yard screaming my head off...in a good way.
It's a thrilling time, with a freshly arrived migrant around every corner, or a sleepy overwintered butterfly.

I get all mushy with field sparrows. Those girly pink legs and bill. Oooooo.


I remembered today how fun last summer was, when I discovered "butterflying".
(Eastern tailed blue)


A crescent? I need to dig out my butterfly field guide. I'm rusty.

Gratuitous Nellie photos:

Running. With one of my nice hanging baskets in front of her face. Der.

And the reason Nellie failed the Emily Post class:

Good grief, Nellie. Can you ever act like a lady?
(There's also a female cardinal on the feeder right outside the window)


The newest member of the Yard:

This is a weeping willow...no, it's not a native tree. But I wanted one anyway. This spot is where the pond will go, when Geoff says it's okay to do it.
On the way home, Lorelei was in the back seat with the tree (sticking into the car from the trunk...it's like 7 or 8 feet tall), playing with a doll and the leaves. She started acting like the tree was a yeti, and I thought that would make a good name for a tree who will someday be 40-50 feet tall and 40-50 feet in diameter.
So let's all give it up for The Yeti.

If you don't talk to your cats about catnip, who will?

This morning, I was in the right place at the right time. While at my favorite spot at Lake Isabella, I was listening to a Northern Parula and not seeing it...for like 30 minutes. I was listening so hard, my ears started to hurt, and I actually got mad at the little bugger.
While I was scanning the rapidly leafed-out trees, I noticed a few blue-gray gnatcatchers.



I also noticed that they kept landing in the same tree, on the same branch.


Nest building! I guess that qualifies as a confirmed breeding pair, huh?

I got the cats a few "cat tents"; basically vinyl cubes with windows. To sweeten the deal, I sprinkled a little cat nip inside...and let the games begin.

"Oh, wow. This is some goooooood sh*t."



"Mom? (in a panicky voice) Mom? Am I the only one seeing the giant bugs on the ceiling?"


"Hooper. Hooper, dude. Help me, man. You're upside down. IT'S FREAKING ME OUT!"




Oh, Hooper. Did you get into the cat nip, too?
"S'okay, Ma. I can quit whenever I want."

In other news, the FOS hummingbird showed up yesterday:


Thank goodness. Now where the Hell have YOU been?

I have been watching this particular house finch for about 2 weeks. (I would call this guy a "marker bird", since he is the only male house finch who looks like a prize fighter.)

He's eating well, he can fly...let's hope that he can get a girlfriend and pass on that immunity.

This is for Rachel, my soon-to-be sister-in-law (Geoff's brother Kevin FINALLY popped the question).
Rachel gave Isabelle sea monkeys for her birthday, and while I was leery (remember how short-lived sea monkeys used to be? They would live for like 24 hours and then go belly-up), we gave it a shot. I guess the sea monkey scientists have improved the formula.
They have grown really fast, and they are at that tender age when they feel that urge....you know that urge.....to knock some boots!

Sea monkey porn. In all its watery glory.
If you look at the two "stuck together", you will see a dark spot between them. That's an egg sack.
I gotta say, though....it must suck to be a female sea monkey. These gals have been carrying these slacker males around for days.