house finches

Long Sips of Water – Day 960

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Catbird – Photo: L. Weikel

Long Sips of Water

I made a point this morning of making sure the birdbath in our yard was filled with fresh, cold water. While the feeders in our yard were visited only sporadically, the ol’ watering hole attracted more attention than it usually does. I have to admit it made me smile to see so many Goldfinches and Blue Jays luxuriating in taking long sips of water.

One thing I learned today? It’s a sure thing the songbirds are thirsty when they’re at the bird bath and don’t seem to pay a whit of attention to the Red-shouldered Hawk screeching in the field beside the house. (Which also makes me wonder: do hawks stay hydrated by eating plump songbirds? Yikes.)

Beyond taking risks that they rarely dare, it’s clear to me that our feathered friends are feeling the effects of the oppressive heat and humidity. I don’t know about you, but dogs and cats make their discomfort in the heat fairly obvious. Birds generally do not.

So it was a little creepy to see some finches and woodpeckers standing on the feeder posts with their beaks open. I assumed this was the closest thing to panting birds do. But it was unsettling. I kept wondering if maybe I’d just never paid close enough attention to my birds in the summer.

Goldfinches – Photo: L. Weikel

Worrisome News

Just as I was talking out loud to my birds (and grudgingly acknowledging the presence of the gray squirrels, red squirrels, and chippies), I came across this unsettling article. It seems birds are dying in record numbers in states all around us as well as further to the south, and scientists have yet to figure out what’s happening.

Sadly, the speculation is that it may either be a disease or perhaps the use of pesticides to kill off the Brood X Cicadas. The thought of that makes me want to scream in frustration. First of all, I cannot understand why anyone would be trying to kill the cicadas. There’s so much literature readily available on the nature of the cicadas and how they benefit virtually every part of the ecosystem.

Second of all, it’s bad enough that people want to kill these red-eyed whirring wonders simply because they’re noisy, or inconvenient, or ‘scary looking.’ But to do it with poison? When people know (or would know if they stopped for even half a second to think about it or read anything on the subject) that other animals eat cicadas? Do they really forget that there’s something called a food chain in healthy ecosystems? Is it really so hard to think beyond our own very personal, very self-centered

Moving Forward

I’m writing about this today not in an effort to shame those people who either don’t care about cicadas or actively dislike them enough to aggressively try to kill them, but rather to alert us all to the need to keep an eye on our birds.

There are some suggestions at the end of the article on what to do if you find a dead bird. Working together perhaps we can be a part of the solution to the crisis.

It seems we’re screwing things up pretty well via climate change. The least we can do is help our fellow creatures out by providing clean fresh water, especially in this searing heat, and taking care not to poison them. A low bar indeed.

Blue Jays are susceptible – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-151)

Chickadee Photo-bomb – Day 813

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
What are you lookin’ at? – Photo: L. Weikel

Chickadee Photo-bomb

My feathered friends were in fine fettle today. Comings, goings, dodging of snowball-sized snowflakes. There was even a chickadee photo-bomb thrown into the mix. Life doesn’t get much better than having access to such color and sassiness, puffery and strategy.

We’ve formed a mutual admiration club that only seems to improve with time. I ensure their supply of sunflower seeds is topped off and never in danger of depletion and they provide a non-stop tutorial in avian culinary predilections and territorial posturing.

It just so happened I received an article about those very habits in my inbox this morning, which made my observations all the more enlightening.

Patience – Photo: L. Weikel

A Mere Sampling

It should be noted that the photos in tonight’s post are from only one of my feeders. The truth is, there’s an entire cadre of winged ones that don’t even deign to visit this particular feeder, probably because it’s so close to the house. As a result, these photos are but a mere sampling of the visitors we entertain.

The truth is, these spoiled creatures have access to seven other feeders on another side of our house. I just happen to feature photos mostly from this feeder because they’re the easiest for me to take. Indeed, sometimes it’s hard for me to get anything accomplished when they’re flitting and kibitzing with each other right outside my window.

And then there’s the occasional Boeing 747 that lands on the feeder, scattering all the little ones from hither to yon. I’m talking the red shouldered woodpeckers and blue jays, mostly. While these beasts were around today and sending everyone away in an occasional frenzy, they seemed a bit camera shy.

Don’t talk with your mouth full – Photo: L. Weikel

The Others

After I topped off the seven ‘other’ feeders, including the peanut coil, I stood very quietly on the porch and just observed. It did not take a full sixty seconds before everybody got the word that the goods had been delivered. A free-for-all was here for the taking.

Many of the birds that grace our land enjoy nibbling their kibble directly from the ground. Cardinals tend to be ground feeders (although they obviously won’t hesitate to imbibe from a feeder if need be), as do juncos. I didn’t realize that until today, when as I stood stock still on the porch to see who would show up if they thought I’d retreated inside, I saw at least fourteen juncos show up and do a little dance under the peanut coil.

I’m pretty sure they were more interested in the sunflower seeds I’d scattered there than the peanuts, but you never know. I’m always surprised by the little guys that try to wedge a peanut twice as big as their head out of the coil. I have to wonder: is that a ‘meal for the day?’

Crowd at the bar – Photo: L. Weikel

Sacrifice

I made the conscious choice to keep my phone (and hence my camera) in my pocket as I stood in observation mode on the porch. It was a sacrifice, but I didn’t want any movement of mine to scatter them. I wanted to see if I could get them to feel safe enough to eat freely in my presence. At one point, my quick count of all those prancing on top of the snow, clinging to the feeders themselves, and kibitzing from the overhanging branches of the maples came to at least 68.

I have to admit, it was a precious few minutes early this afternoon when I was graced with their trust. I’d decided to refill the feeders at that moment because the snowball-sized snowflakes that had pelted the area in a barrage of white fluff (it got deep fast) had subsided. The Weather Channel app on my phone was remarkably accurate this storm – and true to their prediction, I had a window in which to refill the feeders.

As I stood there watching and listening to the house and goldfinches, chickadees, juncos, cardinals, sparrows, woodpeckers, blue jays, wrens, and nuthatches call to each other, the snowstorm resumed. The flakes were no longer big enough to build a fort with singlehandedly, but they were falling so thickly and furiously, my eyelashes were coated and I could swear the birds were ducking.

This was a wonderfully beautiful, long-lasting snowstorm that I was delighted to enjoy with the birds that share our land and home with us.

Cletus and Spartacus, on the other hand, the ones who usually are first out the door? That was not on their agenda today.

It’s a snow day, Mommy – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-298)

Feeding the Birds – Day 496

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Feeding the Birds – Photo: L. Weikel

Feeding the Birds

Some of you may remember my semi-flip out back in September when suddenly all the birds not only went silent but actually left the premises. It was a long 20 days or so before they finally started returning, much to my huge relief. It’s possible, I suppose, that they all just suddenly discovered plentiful seeds and other treats somewhere else. But the abruptness and totality of their departure – and the similar abruptness of their return – just seemed kind of weird.

I do intend to pay attention this fall, to see if they make it into an annual habit.

Looking For Normal

This past week felt like I was trapped in a time warp. Every day I had to make a concerted effort to steady and ground myself – almost as if I’d awakened in the midst of an ocean and had to regain my sea legs before I could walk into the next room. But it wasn’t a physical wavering. It was a psychological one – or perhaps even deeper; perhaps an existential one.

So many assumptions and fundamental beliefs I’ve held about our country and our ability to respond to any challenge – no matter how grave, how daunting, or how threatening – have been shattered this week. And the worst part about that? The worst part is knowing that it was completely avoidable. The worst part is knowing that our lack of preparation and ability to respond (responsibility) was facilitated by the deliberate obfuscation of those at the highest levels of our government.

And people are starting to get sick and die in numbers that grow exponentially, daily, as a result.

So? Having no real power to effect meaningful change until Election Day, I need to look for normal amidst the chaos. Looking for normal yesterday afternoon meant feeding my birds.

Everyday Joy

The temperature outside climbed to 78 degrees yesterday. Needing to ground myself and reconnect to what’s real and sustainable, I found myself sitting on my porch in the sunshine, reveling in birdsong. For a precious few minutes, I was able to wrap myself in a cocoon of delight as I listened to the robins and the fish crows trill and grok, respectively. I watched both two red shouldered woodpeckers and a downy cling to my front feeder and push around a chickadee, then heard but could not see-to-save-my-life the producer of the unmistakable, heavy-billed <<thwacking>> of a pileated just beyond the garage.

I watched goldfinches, house finches, sparrows and wrens flit and flutter amongst the shelter of the carcass of our Christmas tree, which we prop against one of the maples in our yard each year to give them additional cover from the sharp-shinned and red-tailed hawks that patrol the area. Nuthatches marched upside down on the maples and I even glimpsed either a blue bird or an indigo bunting before it disappeared into the thicket along our driveway.

My effort to reclaim normal consisted of the measured, meditative act of filling our birdfeeders and feeding the birds.

Pandemic Partners

I hope I’ll be able to keep my feeders filled over the coming months. The joy and sense of connection with All Life that birds give me is abundantly healing and centering. I recently came across this great article with excellent tips on how to make our yards welcoming, safe, and enticing to these wonderful creatures. It affirmed why Karl and I are so lucky to have so many feathered friends sharing this land we call home.

So many of the suggestions in this article are sound common sense, but they’re also little ways of changing our relationship with birds and Mother Earth that help bring us into balance with Her.

And ultimately, as we make our way through the devastation of this pandemic, coming back into balance with Mother Earth will be key. Celebrating and appreciating our birds can remind us of that.

Goldfinch – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-615)