woodpeckers

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

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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

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Porch-Vacating Heat – Day 252

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Hummingbird at our porch feeder – Photo: L. Weikel

Porch-Vacating Heat                                     

Even though they called for it, I’m still trying to wrap my head around just how hot and muggy it was today. By the late afternoon and early evening, the atmosphere was unbearable and I had to go inside. Reluctantly. Dripping with sweat, but nevertheless dragging my feet.

I’m probably a bit weird. (As if you hadn’t figured that out yet; amiright? My façade is so well-maintained.) As I was saying, I’m probably a bit weird, but I adore sitting, writing, talking, reading, working, musing, Medicine Card picking, bird-watching, and all around being on our porch.

It’s a bit odd, too, since the porch isn’t exactly roomy. And our house is sort of close to the road. I guess I’m saying it’s not a perfect porch. Not even close.

Our Porch

But it’s our porch. And so many good times have been had on that porch, so many beautiful sunsets have been viewed, so many games of hearts played, so many hummingbirds, crows, chickadees, downy woodpeckers, cardinals, fish crows, indigo buntings, mourning doves, pileated woodpeckers, wrens, blue jays, catbirds, house finches, red breasted woodpeckers, goldfinches, red winged blackbirds, sparrows, and both red tailed and sharp-shinned hawks (keeping the populations of the aforementioned in check) have been celebrated and excitedly welcomed from our porch.

We’ve also enjoyed squirrels (OK, maybe ‘enjoy’ is overstating it a bit when it comes to squirrels), chipmunks, deer, foxes, turkeys, opossums, raccoons, groundhogs, garter snakes, bunnies, bullfrogs, skunks, tree frogs, snapper turtles, and box turtles from the vantage point of our porch. I’m sure I’m leaving some critters out. I’d include weasels but the weasel that ran up to me so many years ago was actually out back behind our barn. Since I didn’t view it technically from our porch, I’m not including it in that list.

So Much Life – Just Off the Porch

Now do you get a sense of why our porch is simply the best? It’s better than a zoo. (Doesn’t even compare. I really don’t like zoos. But that’s another conversation.)

And beyond all those creatures mentioned above, we’re also surrounded by grass, trees, moss, hostas (also known as deer food), wild flowers, and bushes. All viewable from our porch.

I tend to gravitate to the porch, and spend a considerable amount of my time at home on it, from roughly mid-March through early December. So for me to abdicate my domain – you know it was hot, humid, and unequivocally miserable.

The Reprieve Arrives

And now, as I sit here on the couch writing this post, the close and exceedingly bright flashes of lightning and deep rumbles of thunder that began about half an hour ago have paved the way for a downpour, the promised reprieve. Ah – great. All the electricity just went out and I’m sitting here in the pitch black of the night. Except for the lightning.

Which of course, it now dawns on me…means no internet connection. Great.

I’m thinking it may be time for me to go to bed. I will post this as soon as I am able.

Here’s hoping this storm marks the end of this heat wave.

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