A new toy

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

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)

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*

*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??"

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

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)

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.