Bird Feeder News August 6, 2014

     Over the last two days, I've had pine siskin and red crossbill visit the feeders. The pine siskin is a spunky fella with a hoarse voice. I spotted something small and brownish. First general impression was of finch-like behavior, a bit more nervous and shy than the usual drop-in at the feeders. Once he opened his mouth, I knew. It was that raspy "zipper" call that gave him away. He called while feeding and flitting back and forth between his chosen feeder and the middle branches of the tree. 

     His buddy the red crossbill was a bit less nervous, having already been to the feeders. The crossbill ate quietly, picking the seeds out and not having to fly into the tree to crack the seeds open. I suspect it was the chickadees who led them to the backyard. 

     Within walking distance are fields, woods, a couple of parks, a creek, and some wetlands. That siskins and crossbills would live nearby was not a surprise. I wasn't expecting them to show up. Both are irruptive. With the surrounding environs, they didn't have to travel very far. I didn't recognize any females although they could have been present. 

     One female hairy woodpecker came briefly to the feeder the other day. She was very pretty-- if such as adjective is not out of place in describing a wild bird-- and stayed for only a minute before flying away.

     The red-bellied woodpecker has become a regular. I've spied it between two and four times a day eating from the sunflower kernel feeder. These three visitors have caused me to wonder what is going on in the woods. Either the food supplies there are not what they usually are [summer has been rainy and late this year] or perhaps the presence of two aggressive dogs living near the woods have forced them to look for food in places where the pooches are not able to go. [Our yard is fenced in]. The presence of our aging dog-- who does not chase birds, only squirrels-- did not seem to bother these three visitors.

     Over the last couple of summers, there has been a gradual increase in our population of red squirrels and younger red x gray squirrel crosses. [Reports are that they can and do interbreed]. The tails of the reds are less bushy than those of the grays. The reds are also bolder, daring to use the deck railings as a pathway to one of the trees. Staring at them gets them to turn around. I really do not want any squirrels so close to me that I can touch them. They are wild and deserve to stay that way.

     I haven't seen the crow that was buzzing me but the male red-wing blackbird continues to hang with some of the local grackles. He flies in with a bunch of them. The grackles mostly concentrate on the corn while the red-wing eats from the sunflower kernels and the suet. The grackles will sample other things as well, but the corn mixture [which includes pumpkin seeds and peanuts] seems to be their favorite. I've watched quite a few grackles hop down from the platform feeders with corn kernels in their bills. They are confident birds. When the sun is out, their bluish-black feathers shine. I now have an underfeather-- a very small one about the size of a pinky nail-- which also glistens a pretty bluish color in the sun.

     The cast of regulars continue to show up: chickadees, nuthatches, mourning doves, a pair of purple finches, some house finches, tons of goldfinches [who are now eating the safflower seeds again along with the sunflower kernels], and of course the grackles. Swallows continue to fly overhead. Starlings have been absent from the yard. Perhaps the grackles discourage them, I don't know.

     I've been studying the way that some of the birds land and how the ones that land in a tree get down to the feeders or the ground. I've also been noting who is wary of who and which bird species appear to be buddies. This is something that has been impossible for me to figure in the woods. I suspect this could be spotted in the nearby parks as well. Truthfully, I prefer the woods and the fields to more civilized places but dog and I do go to the parks sometimes.

     Dog likes to sniff out frogs near and in the creek. [We have our own captive-bred frogs in tanks at home]. She snuffles through the bolt holes in the winter and hunts frogs at her feet while standing in the creek. She doesn't chase them ever but seems to enjoy watching them swim around. A well-behaved and trained dog is a pleasure. Taking the time to teach a dog how to behave is its own reward for both human and dog. This one has not been a deterrent to birding at all. She is not allowed to chase or harass any of the animals around us. [And yes, I pick up her poop!].

          ~sapphoq and friends

Birds at the Feeders and in the Park News: end of July

     At the feeders in the backyard this week, grackles plus the one male red wing blackbird that hangs out with them continue to abound after a curious absence of maybe a fortnight. The chickadees show up several times a day. I saw one chickadee today that was a bit larger than the rest of them. Looked that way to me anyways. Much to my amazement, I have several chickadees crowding around the safflower seeds and the goldfinches have dominated the sunflower kernels. Earlier this spring, this was exactly the opposite. The grackles of course will eat from any feeder that they want to when not grabbing at the corn and nuts in the two platform feeders. The red-bellied woodpecker continues to show up for sunflower kernels several times a day. Mourning doves, house sparrows, a purple finch and a [red] house finch, a few ruby-throated hummers, and the three regular blue jays round out the list of regulars. Yesterday morning, a female hairy woodpecker came to sample the sunflower kernels. And one crow continues to be among the birds that regularly buzz me when the dog and I are relaxing on the deck.

     Yes, I also bird off the property. We have lots of woods and fields around here. Of note, in a creek that runs through some woods and a park there was an immature little green heron just standing in the middle of some mud flats. It took an experimental hop and then just stood there motionless for at least twenty minutes. Much to my amazement, I spied a sandpiper scurrying up and down in the water near the mud flats [where the immature little green heron was]. I never thought about sandpipers being this far inland. I did not get a close enough look to be able to identify which kind of sandpiper. I did catch the yellow legs clearly and some suggestion of spots along the top half of the sandpiper but that was all. Gis: for sure a sandpiper. Other than that, I cannot say. I saw a blue heron flying along the creek further down.

     The next day along the same creek there was a yellow warbler flitting through a thicket of trees. Very fast little birds. Easy to miss.

     A pretty good couple of days I think.

sapphoq n friends

You

     You tug at the pant legs of your expensive jeans so they hang just so over your fashionable boots just so. "Let's get this over with," you say to them with a grimace. Your beau squeezes your shoulder and reaches for your hand. You wince. That hurts, he thinks. He remembers to hide his pain. One older brother checks the car door locks. He doesn't care for the neighborhood. The other-- younger-- stands in the driveway, hands pushed deep into his pockets. "Yeah, get 'er done," he mumbles. He wants to get back to the hotel and the stash in his suitcase. 

     The four of you walk up the driveway and onto the ramp. "New paint job," the concerned brother says. The doper brother is staring about the grounds and the foundation plants. It's a grand house. If he owned all of this, he'd be sure to put in a locked greenhouse way in the back. You know his fantasies well. You glare at him, "Forget it," you say. "You'll never be able to afford this." He flips you the bird when he thinks you aren't looking.

     One of the workers responds to the doorbell and ushers all of you inside. Your overly-applied perfume hangs like sticky fog, not even dissipating in the breeze.  It is good enough. I grab my tools from the back shed and go to work on your shiny automobile. You deserve this. The job is completed in less than a minute. Excellent.

     I crouch behind the bush just under the drawing room window on the far side of the house. I can hear you perfectly. Not so much your words. Those skid around me, vacant and unfeeling. It is your tone of voice that dances around the room clearly and then flings itself with abandon out to my hiding place. A nearby squirrel chatters. He chases another one to a sickly oak. Up and around they go in a crazy zigzag.

     Your beau-- I allow myself a moment to feel sorry for him-- does not realize that he is second fiddle to your swollen false ego. He has often speculated on who his competition for your affection might be. He has hacked into your computer [your first cat's name as a password] and hunted through your addresses. One suspect turned out to be a cousin living in Chicago. Another a much loved gay friend.

     Your grandfather, usually lost to his dementia, is having a clear day. Your beau goes off to find the men's room. "He's not marriage material," he tells you plainly. "Oh grandpa, what do you know?" 

     "Where's your respect?" your younger brother whispers to you. You kick him in the shin. He winces but says nothing further. Grandpa is dying and he doesn't want to upset him. "A gambler," your older brother nods knowingly for Grandpa's benefit but not yours. You glare at him. Screw this, you tell yourself. Your beau returns. "Gotta go Gramps," you say as you bend down to kiss his papery skin. You drag your bodyguards away.

     Your older brother starts the car.