Winter Mornings

Oregon winters include a mixture of white and gray. Not to mention that clear stuff that drips from the sky. We adapt to gray skies and rejoice when blue appears—which it actually did for several days recently. Unfortunately, blue skies in the winter mean cold days, colder nights, and, where I live, a biting East wind. A bit of a mixed blessing, but still nice to see.

Last week we had a particularly beautiful, frosty day. Fog had drifted in and frozen on the trees, bushes, and whatever else it reached, creating scenes worthy of Christmas cards. Unfortunately, we discovered this while on the road, and I hadn’t brought my camera along. So all I can offer is a close-up from my phone.

Then the days warmed up, bringing fog that dripped, rather than froze. Gauzy gray skies were backlit by the sun struggling to break through. And for this day, at least, light proved stronger than the clouds, bringing another sunny day. Now we are back to gray and rain, but hey, I’m a native Oregonian. I can handle it!

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Happy New Year!

The year comes to an end as the sun sets, a little brightness showing through the gray clouds. Isn’t that how it seems to go? So much bad news in the paper each day, so many sad stories online, so much anger and despair in the world. And yet still the light shines through, giving color and beauty, bringing hope. One year fades into the sunset, but dawn comes again with the brightness of a new day. Another chance. Let’s make the most of it.

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Spring Snow

Weather in North America has been weird lately. Back East temperatures are unseasonably high, setting records in place. Here in western Oregon, spring rains should be replacing winter rains. Instead, for two mornings in a row, I have awakened to a landscape covered in white. The snow slips silently in under cover of darkness. My first clue comes when I awaken in the night and notice that the room is lighter than it should be. I peek out the window, and there it is: a soft blanket of white covering the soggy mud below.

When the sun comes up, the snow starts to melt. I get out with my camera before breakfast to enjoy the spectacle while it lasts. All day we hear the drip, drip coming from trees and gutters. The beauty of white-trimmed trees and bushes quickly fades. Snow on the ground takes longer, with bits here and there surviving through the day. Little lakes appear in the yard, and I tread carefully around them to get to the bird feeder, my feet sinking into the muddy ground.

Such fleeting beauty. This moment will never come again, and I try to let it sink into my soul and become part of me. And, as the day wears on, I can’t help wondering. Tomorrow will I awaken to another spring surprise?

What surprises has spring brought to your backyard?

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A Few More Birds

Even though the Great Backyard Bird Count is over, I have a few interesting birds I have not yet posted.  Like those Eurasian collared doves, a new species for my life list. They showed up for the first time during the count, but it sounds like they are sticking around. Every day since then I have heard their mournful “Hooo…hooo…” echoing from nearby trees. Such a ghostly sound–appropriate for these pale birds, I suppose. They finally settled in under the feeder long enough for me to take their pictures.

And then there was another odd junco. Thanks to Birding Bunch, I now know that this junco is leucistic. That means it has feathers that should have pigment, but don’t. In this case, tail feathers. Only the very outer ones should be white, but this little guy’s tail is mostly white. I got this neat picture by accident. 🙂

And today’s last visitor to the feeder is quite an odd duck… one with soft fur and a fluffy white tail, in fact. This was the first time I ever saw it grazing under the feeder.

Isn’t nature fun? Always something new and exciting!

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Birdfest

Action at the feeder

What an exciting day at the feeder! I didn’t have to work this morning, so I devoted extra time to the Great Backyard Bird Count—and it was definitely worth it. I saw 23 different species, including some I don’t see every day, such as the red-breasted sapsucker, white-crowned sparrow, and pine siskin. Most of the regulars showed up. No bushtits today, unfortunately—I was hoping to get a picture of them swarming the feeder. But lots of others, including a new bird for my life list: the Eurasian collared dove. A flock of about ten landed in a nearby tree and then began dropping, one by one, down to the ground under the feeder. I had to look them up in my bird book, but once I did, the identification was simple. I just wish I had my camera out then!

The birds seemed especially feisty today. (Was it something they ate??) Little birds flitted in and out of the feeders, regular as widgets on an assembly line: juncos, sparrows, finches, nuthatches, chickadees. As I tried to get an accurate count, they played musical chairs, and I could never be certain if the new individual I saw was really the same one I had just counted on the other side of the bush.

Starlings tried to dominate the suet feeder, but the flicker shouldered them out of the way. Two starlings got into a squabble, rolling around on the ground together, pecking at each other, until both took off to other places.

Scrub jay gathering nuts

Then came the jay wars. The jays had been getting along, but then I tossed a bunch of birdseed on the ground. The nuts in it seemed especially attractive to the jays. The scrub jay came in and jammed 2-3 nuts in its mouth, then flew off to eat them. It came back to find a Steller’s jay moving in on its lunch. The scrub jay chased the Steller’s jay, which tried to elude the attacker by flying into the middle of the dogwood tree. Every time it landed, the scrub jay went after it again. The two did loop-the-loops through the tree, until the Steller’s jay gave up and flew off. For a bit. As soon as the scrub jay crammed its mouth and took off to eat, the Steller’s jay returned, this time with reinforcements. The two Steller’s jays gobbled up nuts as fast as they could. No flying off to eat for them; much too inefficient. When the scrub jay returned for seconds, it was not pleased. It chased one Steller’s jay and then the other. The smart Steller’s just waited for the scrub jay to take off with its mouth full and returned yet again. Finally an uneasy peace settled in—perhaps the nuts were gone by then and there was nothing to fight over.

Fun times at the bird feeders! I can hardly wait for tomorrow.

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Great Backyard Bird Count: February 17-20

It’s that time of year again, time for the Great Backyard Bird Count. I love this bird count, because I can do it from the comfort of my home, just counting the birds that come to my feeders. Of course, if the weather is nice, I will also venture outside in search of birds that don’t usually visit my feeder–perhaps the pair of doves I sometimes hear cooing from nearby trees or the red-tailed hawk that circles overhead or the flock of robins that wanders the neighborhood this time of year.

I return to the window whenever I get a chance, keeping my checklist handy so I can record any new visitors. I replenish the feeders when they run low, so the birds keep coming. Then at the end of the day–or end of the weekend–I visit the Great Backyard Bird Count site and enter my data. Having fun and contributing to science: what a nice combination!

So, anyone else in?

 

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Snow–Briefly

Winter arrived in full force last night, as a snowstorm hit our area. The snow floated down in big, cottony pieces, covering everything in its path. The darkness outside was turned into the kind of white fairyland that decorates Christmas cards and travel magazines. I felt like running outside and tromping through the whiteness, catching snowflakes in my mouth. But it was dark and cold and late, and I had to work in the morning, so I snapped a few pictures from the porch and went to bed.

I woke to the sound of dripping, and my heart sank. Outside rain joined with the wet snow, weighing down bushes, dragging branches to the ground. The delicate pictures of the previous night, with each twig carrying its own little blanket of white, had run like a child’s watercolor. Big globs of snow stuck to the bushes, melting to form lakes in the yard.

By midday most of the trees were bare of snow. The ground still carried a deceptive layer of white. But when I stepped onto it, my boots sank into puddles of water underneath. And even that remaining snow was fast giving way to bare dirt and flattened grass.

How fleeting beauty can be! How important to revel in it when it appears, because we never know how long it might stay. I should have hiked through the snow last night, soaking in the purity of it, laughing like a child as it blew into my face. Perhaps I would have been tired this morning, but it would have been worth it. Rejoice in the moment; it is a blessing from above.

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If We Were All More Like Chickadees

I love to watch the birds at the feeders outside my window. Each species has its own personality. The Steller’s jays sweep grandly in and dominate—until a flicker shows up and chases the jays from the feeder. The starlings come in noisy hordes, the bushtits in friendly little flocks.

The chickadees are especially friendly and easy-going. The chestnut-backed seem a bit friendlier than the black-capped, but neither is particularly shy. They can get a bit demanding when I don’t keep up with my feeding chores. But when the feeder is filled with good, black oil sunflowers, the chickadees flit about in the dogwood tree where the feeder hangs. One will zip in, grab a seed, and fly to a perch nearby to eat it. Then another swoops in. They patiently take turns, each picking up a single seed and eating it before coming back for more. Occasionally two or three will land on the feeder at the same time, but no one gets pushy.

The juncos aren’t quite so obliging. They don’t like to share the feeder, particularly with other species. They flap their wings at interlopers and seemed annoyed that others would want to move in while they are eating. Still they are models of courtesy compared to starlings. Starlings will share if they have to, but you can’t make them like it. They squawk and flap about on the suet feeder, greedily grabbing big mouthfuls of food.

However, for a true show of dominance, the squirrel is definitely tops. He’ll hang by his tail over the seed feeder, gobbling down as much as he can before he loses his grip on the branch above and has to drop off. Or curl his well-fed body around the suet feeder so no bird has a chance of sneaking in.

And meanwhile the polite little chickadees eat their seeds one at a time, cheerfully sharing and enjoying life, one moment at a time.

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Goodbye Again

The plane rises into the sky, lifted by forces I can explain but will never comprehend. Slicing through the clouds it disappears. Like magic. Like today turning into tomorrow, and present experiences becoming memories. For a moment, my heart flies with the plane as child of my flesh, child of my soul, you leave again.

Was it really a week ago you arrived? Why does now become yesterday so quickly? Christmas trees with glittering lights. Scones and fudge and decorated cookies. Cold sunshine and Oregon rain. Laughter amidst the warmth of family. Learning a new game where you are the master and we, your parents, mere apprentices. Chicken katsu with curry, artistically presented. You have grown into a strong and confident man, and our hearts glow with pride.

I drive slowly home, to be greeted by empty Christmas stockings and a quiet house. To embrace a husband whose heart also aches. Sweet memories have been added to my storehouse, and I will rejoice in those. Rejoice in love and family and faith—and all the blessings you have given me, often without even knowing. One day soon, those tomorrows will bring us together again. And that will be a wonderful day.

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Frosty Morning

We awakened to a bright, white morning today. Not snow, but icy frost covering grass, trees, and the car in our driveway. As the sun rose, the frost glittered like a million tiny Christmas lights. Where the sunlight reached it, the ice began to melt into little dewdrops on the grass.

 When I entered our shed—an open-sided structure with a hard, plastic roof—drops of water fell from the ceiling like the beginning of an indoor rain storm. Funny to feel it raining under cover, but not outside!

 I walked down to our little woods, as the cold nipped at my toes and fingers. Frost decorated the blackberry bushes, the ferns, even a tiny mushroom growing in the path.

 The leaves are late to fall this year. According to the television meteorologist, scientists believe the wet, cool July and warmer-than-usual September and early October caused the leaves to hold more sugar and stay longer on the trees. It also makes for brighter colors than usual, something I have really noticed. It has been a spectacular autumn.

 Now the frost comes, as autumn winds down toward winter. And we enjoy the beauty of this season, as Earth continues its journey around the Sun, ever-changing, yet ever the same.

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