As a life-long doodler, much of my work tends to birdify itself. I only need to watch as, pen in hand, something birdlike comes to life on the page. It's never what I hope it'll look like in the end but sometimes whatever alights on the papers is somehow just right. Here is a smattering of examples. Please enjoy and do let me know your favorite!
As a life-long doodler, much of my work tends to birdify itself. I only need to watch as, pen in hand, something birdlike comes to life on the page. It's never what I hope it'll look like in the end but sometimes whatever alights on the papers is somehow just right. Here is a smattering of examples. Please enjoy and do let me know your favorite!
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California has me thrown. And, so far, I like what I see. It's fall in San Francisco. Having never experienced Northern California at this change in the seasons, there seems to be not a lick of rhyme or reason to it, which makes it all the more exciting. For someone who has grown up in a temperate zone with four cut and dry seasons, I'm enjoying this delightful deviation from the ordinary. There's a definite dichotomy going on across the landscape. You might look in one direction to see the crinkled leaves of the sycamores taken by the breeze. As they drop onto the sidewalk you feel a slight chill in the breeze and you've become convinced that the doors of winter have firmly closed behind you when suddenly you turn a corner and see an enormous glowing pink bougainvillea spilling over a garden fence, blooming with abandon. There really are still flowers everywhere, early blossoms even. And, I think they're really going to stick around since I know the Anna's Hummingbird plans on it. Hummers feed on nectar and insects so their very presence foretells a land of mild winters. This very phenomenon that doesn't happen back east - our ruby throats take off for warmer climes as soon as the first fall chill. So, to see hummingbirds remain on into winter makes me feel like the cold months are that much more bearable. And further yet the dichotomy persists. Yes, there are definitely fall colors afoot; the leaves are turning. There are sweet gums that are bright reddish orange, gingkos in screaming shades of yellow, leaves crunch underfoot but then you look up at some evergreen tree and see a flock of cherry-headed conures, gregarious, tropical birds that, like the hummingbird, aren't making any move to leave. So Surly and I keep plugging along, watching the days go by and seeing what intrigue nature uncovers next. Hummingbirds are the busy, iridescent little flashes that are here and long gone before you can barely get an idea of these tiny brilliant lives. They're simply very attractive, very charismatic little critters that harbor a lot of love from hummingbird enthusiasts around the world. Here on the eastern side of the U.S., Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are the sole breeders while out west they have a much wider variety including Black-chinned, Allen's, Anna's, Rufous and more. But don't let that take away from your hummingbird gusto, the feisty Ruby-throateds are more than entertaining. If you're a hummingbird novice who wants to explore the fascinating world of these tiny creatures, you can bring hummingbirds to your yard with the help of a simple feeder. The feeder itself is best when it's easily cleaned and, of course, red. It's also helpful when the feeder incorporates an ant moat, a cup-like space in the middle of the feeder that you fill with water and thus keeps ants from crawling down the hanging apparatus and into the feeding holes. Another important tidbit is the need to keep the nectar fresh. A mix of four parts water to one part sugar can attract mold and deter hummers so its important to change every three days or so. If the feeder is in straight sun, you may have to change it more often. You can tell when the nectar is going bad if it starts to become cloudy. Don't despair if you aren't getting hummers, it may just take some time for them to start noticing the feeder. What may help is to incorporate red flowers nearby to further attract the little buggers. But just be sure to change the nectar often, because there's no doubt: they won't feed from a feeder with bad nectar. So with this, enjoy a view into the highly esteemed world of hummingbirds. There's a lot to love about feeding wild birds in your backyard. The near-constant come and go of all manner of species can give novice watchers a real-life learning experience. Some might be surprised at what some sunflower seed can attract. Here in suburban Maryland, the list is long. There are the well known cardinals, chickadees and blue jays, as well as titmice, goldfinches, house finches, white breasted nuthatch, downy woodpecker, chipping sparrow and more. While species interaction might mostly consist of shoving each other off the feeding perches, others may include the passing off of seed or bits of suet from one mate to another. Sometimes a displays ensue, like wing flashing and body shivering, with special calls reserved just for the mate. Now if feeding birds isn't something you agree with, just know that we're an animal that just happened to figure out what feed suits another animal — birds, in this case. And we not only derive pleasure from it, we're also helping species proliferate. And it's fun to watch and learn what species exist in our backyards. What's more they might even bring their fledged young to the show and you can watch their awkward fledgie escapades. If you're looking to identify a bird you might not recognise you might find Audubon's app useful, or visit Cornell's All About Birds sight and search their bird guide. Overall, this is a very rewarding endeavor, especially when you can sit near a window or out on your porch and get closer to the birds than you might ever otherwise. So try it out! Oh and be sure to get a squirrel-proof feeder if you don't want to have to keep refilling your feeder every couple days. Check out your local wild bird store for squirrel feeding options. Enjoy! When you're stuck in suburbia and you consider yourself an outdoor person, there's nothing better than climbing into a hammock tent and spending the night listening to nature. It may surprise you what you hear. I've been sleeping out for the past couple weeks and have my hammock set in the back of the backyard where there's a line of white pines. I was able to hang it in between two of the trees and that's where I swing in the evening time, listening to the tree frogs as the twilight slips into darkness. Some of the nighttime sounds are what you'd expect: cats or raccoons. But I was thrilled to wake up in the darkest hours when there weren't any cars or the occasional motorcycle zooming by on the other side of the park and what did I hear but a Great Horned Owl! It was asking if I was there (I'm here, are you?) and got a response from another, farther off individual. Whoo knew? I worked the summers of 2003 and 2005 on what's known as Project Puffin which was a project started in the 70s by Dr. Steve Kress who brought puffins back from near extirpation (in effect, extinction from Maine's coast) after nearly complete overhunting. While the birds were doing well far north of Maine in Newfoundland and other locations, the U.S. had not enough to realistically expect healthy population retention. Steve Kress' work in the 70s was phenomenal, transplanting just under a thousand young birds to be reared in burrows to fledge (fledge: fly for the first time) in hopes that they'd eventually return to nest on the islands from which they fledged and breed. It was a huge risk and took a determination unmatched, especially what with knowing the birds go out to sea to unknown locales to basically grow up for several years. Well over the course of about seven years and with the help of decoys Kress fashioned out of wood, some of the puffins came back after the first four years, interested in these familiar grounds and the decoys which the humans hoped would attract the birds back to explore all the possible the nesting locations. Well, it took seven years but as more puffins came back four pair finally nested on Eastern Egg Rock in 1981. By the time I made my first voyage out to the Maine islands as a Project Puffin intern (my first time working as a field biologist) the Atlantic Puffin was doing great, in fact they were nesting in the hundreds, spread out on seven Audubon-protected islands where I worked for the two summers of '03 and '05. Well, now they're in trouble again, vulnerable to the effects of climate change on our oceans. While we know that extreme weather has been something of perhaps a vague but — I believe — real contribution of climate change, it seems this is now reflecting strongly in Project Puffin birds. What recent extreme weather patterns did was take its toll on the food ability available to puffins raising their young, essentially changing around fish populations, what species were abundant and where they were at essential feeding times during the puffin breeding season. Puffins eat herring and hake (you know, those longer baby fish that dangle neatly from a puffin beak, see here) but in the summer of 2013 biologists were finding puffin chicks starving in their burrows surrounded by butterfish (pictured here) too large for the tiny young to swallow. The summer of 2013 resulted in only 10% of puffin pairs producing fledglings, this on islands I remember rearing strong, healthy colonies. Reading about all this in the yearly Project Puffin newsletter this winter has broken my heart. And to know that it's happening worldwide is more than a warning, it's a red flag waving, frantically. Click on my blog page my a photo montage of my Project Puffin Experience. Here is an owl that Matthew and I found while making our way around Sarasota, Florida's beautiful Botanical Gardens. This one flew across and wiggled its way into what appeared a very non-owl-sized crevice. And now that I've spoken about the Botanical Gardens, I have a few things to add..can't leave out flowers when flowers are involved! |
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