Birding

Wednesday, May 22, 2024

My camera captured this watching bird from a great distance. The image is good but surprising because I couldn’t recognize the bird type. Its coloring suggests a woodpecker, but it has a seed-eater’s beak. This probably is of a common variety, and wanting to know has encouraged me to download an app that identifies birds from photos. I will learn the answer after uploading this photo from my computer to the phone app.

I love photographing birds, and they can be challenging. They’re fast movers and can test a photographer’s skills. There are thousands of species, each with a unique appearance and behavior. Some are incredibly beautiful, and it’s thrilling to capture their assets.

Photographing wild birds, even on or around my property, connects me with nature. Spending time observing and appreciating brings peace, relaxation, and inspiration. Plus, I’m learning, about different bird species, their behaviors and habits.

Bird photography is educational and enriching; there’s always something new to discover and capture. Bird photography and bird-watching teach lots and inspire sharing because almost everybody loves birds. And in the world of birds, there’s much to love.

Dear Friends: A bundle of challenge, diversity, beauty, learning, and sharing. Diana

My Robin(s)

Monday, May 20, 2024

From on high, this Robin (or its mate) always watches my every move.

Here’s why:

It’s safely tucked into a rafter. I searched for a while before seeing it. I’d noticed a mature Robin flying in and out of that hay shed often enough to make me wonder if it had built a nest there. Various bird types have nested in previous springtimes, sometimes in loosely structured and precariously situated nests located in worrying spots. This Robins’ nest is impressively safe. It is securely beyond my reach, my dog’s, and most other predatory types.

For several reasons, I love hosting and seeing that healthy nest. Robins build their nests in areas offering good shelter, adequate food, and water. This nest’s location suggests that my property is a good local ecosystem that offers essential resources.

I’ll be observing closely this intricately constructed Robin’s nest and maybe seeing some of the birds’ nurturing behaviors. I’m having a pipe dream: If I’m really lucky, maybe I’ll see eggs hatching and the chicks growing.

More is drawing me toward connecting with this Robin family. Several years ago, I rescued a fledgling Robin; it had fallen from a nest and was too young to survive independently. I raised that baby successfully until it could fly well and care for itself. I enjoyed every moment with that cool bird. My little fantasy is that it might be one of the parents caring for this nest.

Besides, I like to associate Robins with springtime and new beginnings. That nest in my shed reminds me of the renewal and growth that occurs in nature and inspires similar feelings in me.

Dear Friends: Now to work again, to create a special photo and “birthday surprise.” Diana

Wildlife

Sunday, May 05, 2024

Today, it’s Cinco de Mayo, enjoy!

It’s another rainy and chilly morning here in Central Oregon. Yesterday, my neighbors told me they had discovered a brown fox, apparently living in our neighborhood, at their pond. They caught it in the act of killing some of their chickens, including the brave rooster, and frightened the critter away. This morning, I have a closer eye on my flock. It has two big roosters, but a fat chance they’d willlingly work together, and they don’t reassure.

Luckily, over the years, predators haven’t terrorized my chickens. Maybe because tree limbs partially sheltering their area deter skydiving, scooping, and escaping. Oddly, neither does an occasional raccoon, evidenced by its footprints, cause damage.

I wondered why a fox would be in a densely populated neighborhood. They’re omnivores and hunt very small animals, like mice and rats. Thinking more about why, I suppose that scavenging in human communities, with freely available pet food and garbage, makes it easier to live. My neighbors are familiar with wild foxes and suggest that this one is likely feeding babies and nesting within a mile of us.

I need our chickens to be safe, and I am curious. I would like to spot a fox with its gorgeous tail. Long ago, while living in LA, I occasionally saw wild possums, and they frightened me. That was before I learned about possums—wonderful creatures—and could appreciate them.

My curiosity invited a real learning experience. My small animal veterinarian said she had rescued a baby possum and that she’d bring it to meet me. That did happen, and the half-grown infant clung to me. She roamed a little, with her toes tightly holding onto my jacket, finally nesting in my hoodie. I fell in love with that little one and have forever remembered the whole episode.

Of course, meeting a fox would be very different, especially if it’s in the act of threatening small domestic animals. Aside from that, I’ve wished to see a wild fox in real life; a whim that somehow might happen.

Dear Friends: Today, remembering that possum, we together, and me learning. Diana

Bitties Insisting

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

My house is under siege by two tiny birds, apparently mates, taking turns tapping unendingly into a lower corner of a high window. They’re working too high for wingless me to reach them without a 20-foot ladder. Little by little a hole grows. The birds are tiny—chickadees or nuthatches—but determined. I watch and yell to no advantage.

Their chosen window is precisely where a Northern Flicker drilled a large hole years ago. Apparently, birds are attracted to high spots protected by an eve. I love birds but would drive away these littles. I yell and threaten, but they ignore me. The long-ago Flicker left an unsightly hole that, finally, a house painter made to disappear.

Now, here we go again. This time, it’s a bird tiny enough to leave space in my palm.

They’re so high up it’s hard to tell, but I think a Chickadee bird pair is tapping into my house. My first impression was that the birds were Juncos, but a Junco doesn’t drill unendingly.

It’s a wonder seeing these tiny birds pecking into my house siding, determined to create a nesting space. A little research says that they can and won’t give up until they do.

Dear Friends: I’m becoming an unwilling nest host to bitty birds. Diana

A Moon Mood

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Yesterday evening, after driving up my driveway and reaching its top, I saw the moon, a mere sliver of its fullest self and crystal clear among many dark clouds. I felt instantly attracted to that sliver, sensed it as free-floating, and wanted a photo. I hurried into the house to become organized, get equipped with a camera, and hurry outside again. By then, the sky was full of dark clouds obscuring the light sliver.

I walked around while looking skyward to glimpse even a tiny bit of light. It was a no-dice situation that denied any possible hint of a moon presence. I couldn’t just give up, and so wondered why I’d been compellingly drawn to that sliver.

As a personal baseline, I love full moons. From earliest human history, they have affected all beings’ senses of emotion, intuition, and growth. Humans have latched onto the times of full moons to conduct rituals, release energies, and renew beginnings. The sliver moons might influence humans more subtly. Last night’s sliver seemed to encourage me toward introspection, internal growth, and maybe seed-planting for future endeavors.

There’s evidence that the moon’s phases influence all living beings. In humans, full moon periods align with our physical activities and emotions—external and internal. We are also influenced by slivers, constantly changing by waxing and waning.

Waxing crescent moons (sliver growing) encourage beings into modes of excitement and anticipation; waning crescent moons (sliver shrinking) encourage beings into modes of internalization and reflection.

I’ll add that any perceived powers of moon phases aren’t scientific. There are common perceptions (including mine) that draw from long-time observations of cultures and traditions.

Dear Friends: Today’s header photo is from the internet. Diana

Special Robin

Sunday, January 27, 2024

A few years ago, I rescued an infant Robin after it fell from a nest and landed inside a fenced area where my dogs run freely. I heard its screaming parents, picked up the wide-mouthed baby, carried it where the dogs couldn’t go, and set it down.

I intended to let the parents take care of their infant but worried about its ongoing safety in an open area that hawks may fly over. After struggling about having left the baby, I decided to return for it. The bird became the resident of an unused small birdcage in my garage. I had to find live food, which is what Robins eat, and the ticket was night crawlers, from supplies for fisherfolks. Those juicy eats grew my bird strong.

For weeks, it spent nights in my garage and days perched on a tree limb and waiting for me. I didn’t intend to keep that Robin as a pet, although it was tempting. Finally, one day, I discovered that my bird had flown away–completely.

For days afterward, I walked around in this area and called for my bird. My calls had always brought it flying in and landing on my shoulder, but not now. I could only hope to find someday that it had returned, maybe even nesting here, but there’s no evidence that’s happened.

Since then, on spotting a mature Robin, I whisper, “Are you my bird?”

Dear Friends: It’s much of why I so appreciate and photograph them. Diana