Okay, I'm getting really really excited about the birding festival tomorrow. I've got all my gear (and a friend's gear) in the car. I can hardly sit still right now. I can't wait to leave!
Let's go through the checklist--if you think of anything I missed, please comment!
PACKING
I packed light--only jeans or shorts for the walk tomorrow (don't know if it'll be too cool or brushy for shorts), my Chief Seattle t-shirt for luck, my Timberlands, some cushy socks, and my South Carolina cap. (nothing lucky about that, other than I like it) All this is in my backpack. I also remembered to bring my travelling bag full of toiletries, prescription meds, etc. I think I have everything.
GEAR
1. Nikon Coolpix 4800--battery charged up overnight, plus charger just in case
2. Meade Condor scope--in its soft shoulderbag rather than the hard case
3. Bad-ass Birding Bag--the one Kat got me in Cape May--contents are my Stokes field guide, Identify Yourself (which maybe Zick will autograph, as she did the illustrations), Leupold binoculars, camera, notepad. Room for water bottle.
4. my brand new Slik 504QF tripod, which will only be included IF it is waiting for me at the UPS store where I get my mail. Otherwise, I have a back-up:
5. Nikon super-fancy camera with giganto-lens and teleconverter (non-digital, however), borrowed from my friend Joe Spla (like Joe Pa, only not the head coach of the PSU Nittany Lions and not 80+ years old)
TRIP PLANNING
I have downloaded Mapquest directions, a full tank of gas, all the brochures and materials from the birding festival, a list of hotels in Titusville, PA, where I can stay (I was going to go with Niki and Ian and stay with Niki's parents, but they had to go to Indiana for a funeral this week). I think I shouldn't have any problems getting there. I also called ahead to okay my late registration tomorrow morning (before the bird walk with Zick, so like at 5:30am!).
I leave after work to get Kat from school, check UPS for my tripod, then drop her at Niki's, where she'll feed their kitty Murry and drive Niki's truck home. I will then hop on I-80 and head for the Oil Region, the valley that changed the world!
I brought along my copy of Solzhenitzyn's Warning to the West, which is a fascinating book. That way, I can read a little to calm myself down tonight, so I'll get some sleep -- I hope. Then I'll be up at 4:30 or so, to get to the Cross Creek (or Crick, as they called it on the phone) Resort to pick up my registration materials, then head over to the Oil Creek State Park's Important Birding Area for my walk with Julie Zickefoose!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Disaster on the marsh
This afternoon while I was sitting outside on the back lawn studying for my trig final, a group of birders appeared on the marsh, trying to get more birds for the local Birding Cup competition. Roana and her group are also participating, but they chose to hit a different marsh, so this was a nice surprise. I didn't get a picture, but they were on #135 when I asked them, and I saw the leader raise his arms in triumph three or four more times, so they were cruising. He told me they'd seen a marsh wren and a snipe already and were looking for rails. I'm sure they found them, as I've seen at least four or five Virginia rails out there each day I've looked from the porch with my scope.
After studying for about three hours, I couldn't resist going out on the marsh to find and possibly photograph some beauties. I checked the scope and spotted two rails and a sora from the porch, so I figured I'd have a great time. I headed out on the road beside the marsh and almost immediately spotted the bittern!
See him there? This was scoped through my binoculars; here's the full digital zoom:
Not great, but it's documentation, right?
So I got really excited, marked the location in my mind and got some landmarks, and set out to find him up close. I headed out on the small path that runs along the shallow little ponds in the front area of the marsh first, hoping to see a sora or a rail. No luck. However, I saw this:
This should've served as a bad omen, but I chalked it up to the circle of life. Not sure what or who had finished this bird off, but I didn't worry about it too much.
I then headed back to the big path beside Long Pond, looking through my binoculars to try to find anything good, and that's when I saw him: a dog. A big dog. A big yellow wolf-looking, horse-sized dog. Loose on the marsh. He was back toward the creek, and he disappeared quickly into the brush back there, so I figured he was accompanying some fisherman on the creek. I don't really like dogs, so I was kind-of glad he disappeared. I moved on.
I saw a little muskrat:
Shortly after I snapped this picture, he flipped and splashed and went underwater, no doubt miffed at my stealing his soul with my camera.
I kept looking through the binocs for the bittern place, and that's when I witnessed the disaster. That damned dog was attacking a Canada goose nest, rolling the eggs off it and trying to bite them. I ran at him and screamed "No!" and he got scared and ran away. But the damage was done.
Mother Goose (I guess) was honking her head off, and very soon, Father Goose showed up.
They both honked and honked, and suddenly there were more geese coming, landing close by and just sitting. I thought they might be standing guard.
The geese were on a little island, and there was at least 15 feet of water, the depth of which I could only guess, between me and their nest. I couldn't even help them by moving the eggs back onto the mound; I couldn't do a thing but watch their agony.
During my screaming and running at the dog, I spooked the bittern, who flew away. I managed a photo:
By this point, I wondered if perhaps my presence so close to the nest might be upsetting the geese, so I walked away. I hope they can somehow push the eggs back onto their little mound. That stupid dog. And that stupid dog owner, whoever he or she may be, leaving him loose on the marsh.
On my way back, I heard the bittern several times, but I never saw him again. I did, however, see this sign of life:
That's the tree swallow I photographed a few weeks ago, at the same nest box! I hope they have a little clutch of eggs in there, and I hope they raise lots of young.
Back on the road home in the gathering darkness of sunset, I saw two neon orange sparks flashing through the air.
The Baltimore orioles are back! Last year, they raised a baby here; now they're back!
I guess the circle of life really does go on. Still, I can't help but feel terrible for that family of Canada geese; I just hope they can lay another brood. I checked my Stokes guide: ". . . the number of broods a bird has in a season. . . is marked by a B." Dangit, the B under Canada goose has a 1 after it. One brood. "Shown is the number of successful broods a species will attempt in a normal season. It does not include cases of renestings after failed broods.(my emphasis)"
Maybe they'll be able to scoop their eggs back onto the mound.
Or maybe, just maybe, they're out there right now, trying again.
Perhaps I should play some romantic music.
After studying for about three hours, I couldn't resist going out on the marsh to find and possibly photograph some beauties. I checked the scope and spotted two rails and a sora from the porch, so I figured I'd have a great time. I headed out on the road beside the marsh and almost immediately spotted the bittern!
See him there? This was scoped through my binoculars; here's the full digital zoom:
Not great, but it's documentation, right?
So I got really excited, marked the location in my mind and got some landmarks, and set out to find him up close. I headed out on the small path that runs along the shallow little ponds in the front area of the marsh first, hoping to see a sora or a rail. No luck. However, I saw this:
This should've served as a bad omen, but I chalked it up to the circle of life. Not sure what or who had finished this bird off, but I didn't worry about it too much.
I then headed back to the big path beside Long Pond, looking through my binoculars to try to find anything good, and that's when I saw him: a dog. A big dog. A big yellow wolf-looking, horse-sized dog. Loose on the marsh. He was back toward the creek, and he disappeared quickly into the brush back there, so I figured he was accompanying some fisherman on the creek. I don't really like dogs, so I was kind-of glad he disappeared. I moved on.
I saw a little muskrat:
Shortly after I snapped this picture, he flipped and splashed and went underwater, no doubt miffed at my stealing his soul with my camera.
I kept looking through the binocs for the bittern place, and that's when I witnessed the disaster. That damned dog was attacking a Canada goose nest, rolling the eggs off it and trying to bite them. I ran at him and screamed "No!" and he got scared and ran away. But the damage was done.
Mother Goose (I guess) was honking her head off, and very soon, Father Goose showed up.
They both honked and honked, and suddenly there were more geese coming, landing close by and just sitting. I thought they might be standing guard.
The geese were on a little island, and there was at least 15 feet of water, the depth of which I could only guess, between me and their nest. I couldn't even help them by moving the eggs back onto the mound; I couldn't do a thing but watch their agony.
During my screaming and running at the dog, I spooked the bittern, who flew away. I managed a photo:
By this point, I wondered if perhaps my presence so close to the nest might be upsetting the geese, so I walked away. I hope they can somehow push the eggs back onto their little mound. That stupid dog. And that stupid dog owner, whoever he or she may be, leaving him loose on the marsh.
On my way back, I heard the bittern several times, but I never saw him again. I did, however, see this sign of life:
That's the tree swallow I photographed a few weeks ago, at the same nest box! I hope they have a little clutch of eggs in there, and I hope they raise lots of young.
Back on the road home in the gathering darkness of sunset, I saw two neon orange sparks flashing through the air.
The Baltimore orioles are back! Last year, they raised a baby here; now they're back!
I guess the circle of life really does go on. Still, I can't help but feel terrible for that family of Canada geese; I just hope they can lay another brood. I checked my Stokes guide: ". . . the number of broods a bird has in a season. . . is marked by a B." Dangit, the B under Canada goose has a 1 after it. One brood. "Shown is the number of successful broods a species will attempt in a normal season. It does not include cases of renestings after failed broods.(my emphasis)"
Maybe they'll be able to scoop their eggs back onto the mound.
Or maybe, just maybe, they're out there right now, trying again.
Perhaps I should play some romantic music.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Found a Flicker Feather
I found a flicker feather
not far from the fence today.
That's your tongue-twister for the day, folks.
It's amazing what you find when you're paying attention. Outside one of the back doors at work, a robin has built a beautiful little nest in a small pine tree; it's so low that even I (at 5'1") could look into the nest when Mother was away this afternoon:
I have always loved robin's eggs; who doesn't? That blue is so beautiful. These eggs are being well-tended by Mother, who's rarely away except (I imagine) to get a meal.
My birding friend at work has been seeing all sorts of warblers around the walking trail out behind the building; he's out there early in the morning. Unfortunately, all my untrained eyes ever see during my lunchtime walks is robins and starlings. I've heard some interesting sounds out there, but I haven't seen any warblers yet. I did see those brown creepers, though--that was something!
He's going to the Magee Marsh birding event the same weekend I'll be in Franklin, PA, for the birding festival where Julie Zickefoose will be. I'm only going to the early-morning birding walk with her, then a thing on nature photography, and another thing on creating better backyard habitats for birds. I wish I could do the dinner, the mingle, etc. but I just don't have that much time. Still, just the birding walk alone is going to make the three-hour drive soooo worth it!
On my way to get Kat at school today, I performed a quickstop highway pullover that would've made Mary proud--to get a photo of this hawk:
Is this a red-tail? Here he's scratching his head with those talons, yet miraculously not scalping himself:
I also have some photos from earlier this week that you should see. First, we had a killdeer in Neighbor Ed's driveway yesterday morning; look at those freaky red eyes:
He was just screaming his little head off. Glad I wasn't trying to sleep.
Also found an interesting butterfly in the garden the other day:
That is a butterfly, right? He's kinda furry like a moth, but I think it's butterfly. At any rate, I checked several butterfly sites but couldn't find this guy. What is this, oh nature people out there?
Our lilac is just about to burst into bloom:
Thanks to my study of American poetry in college, lilacs will always remind me of another time when America was at war. Of course, back then, we had a real leader at the helm, not "The Commander Guy." Is that like GI Joe, only without the kung-fu grip?
We've had a lot of chipping sparrows at the feeder during the last few days; I love their garish red caps and '40s movie-star eyeliner. Here they're sitting in our just-bursting-with-new-needles tamarack:
There's a bunch of these sweet little daffodils (?) blooming just beyond the fence on the marsh:
Mr. House Finch posed for a portrait yesterday afternoon in the tamarack:
The view from the road over the marsh to the hills beyond:
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Kat digiscopes!
Kat and I were working in the yard--mowing the lawn, finishing planting, cleaning tools, pressure-washing the outhouse to prep it for repainting, and other things--when we saw one, and then two HUGE white birds on the marsh. Two great egrets! I tried to digiscope some shots of one of them in the Heron Tree (its new official name), but I just couldn't get at the right angle. This was my best effort:
After listening to me whine about getting my tripod tomorrow, the passing cloud that obscured the sun momentarily, the wind, the grass tickling my feet, etc., Kat finally just said, "Give me that scope." She walked to one of the fence posts, put the scope (on its little table-top mount) on the post, took the camera, and started to focus the scope! Kat was digiscoping!
Now this is a great advance in our civilization, folks. This is Kat, who doesn't really like birds because
"They're creepy."
"They have beady little eyes that stare at you."
"The little baby birds are ugly."
So for her to first admire the egrets, then start to help me photograph them, well, it's just like one small step for Delia, one giant leap for Kat-kind!
Admittedly, she didn't do too well, but her photos were actually better than anything I got. Here are the best two; she doesn't really use my camera very often, so she didn't understand about getting it to focus, or about zooming for vignetting. And I was NOT about to make any suggestions; she likes to learn things on her own. Her best results:
Not great, admittedly, but wait until we get a tripod! I then explained to her about the auto-focus, the vignetting, the fact that the camera is not optimal for digiscoping because of the external zoom -- she listened to all of it, even! Then my new assistant offered this helpful note:
"Oh! Big white birds! Flying away!"
The digiscoping was over.
We watched for them for about an hour, relaxing in the Adirondack chairs, but those birds could sense when I would turn my camera off to save the battery; that's when they'd make a little circle around what I presume is their nest and then settle back down again, hidden by the marsh grasses. Even Kat said they were just taunting me.
I thought about taking a walk into the marsh, but we had so much to do in the yard; I just didn't want to stop working on such a beautiful day.
Some birding club members are coming out here on Wednesday night to case some locations for the upcoming Birding Cup competition, so I can't wait to tell Roana that in addition to sora, Virginia rail, American bittern, and great blue heron, she might get a great egret! Boy, this marsh just rocks so hard; I love living here!
After listening to me whine about getting my tripod tomorrow, the passing cloud that obscured the sun momentarily, the wind, the grass tickling my feet, etc., Kat finally just said, "Give me that scope." She walked to one of the fence posts, put the scope (on its little table-top mount) on the post, took the camera, and started to focus the scope! Kat was digiscoping!
Now this is a great advance in our civilization, folks. This is Kat, who doesn't really like birds because
"They're creepy."
"They have beady little eyes that stare at you."
"The little baby birds are ugly."
So for her to first admire the egrets, then start to help me photograph them, well, it's just like one small step for Delia, one giant leap for Kat-kind!
Admittedly, she didn't do too well, but her photos were actually better than anything I got. Here are the best two; she doesn't really use my camera very often, so she didn't understand about getting it to focus, or about zooming for vignetting. And I was NOT about to make any suggestions; she likes to learn things on her own. Her best results:
Not great, admittedly, but wait until we get a tripod! I then explained to her about the auto-focus, the vignetting, the fact that the camera is not optimal for digiscoping because of the external zoom -- she listened to all of it, even! Then my new assistant offered this helpful note:
"Oh! Big white birds! Flying away!"
The digiscoping was over.
We watched for them for about an hour, relaxing in the Adirondack chairs, but those birds could sense when I would turn my camera off to save the battery; that's when they'd make a little circle around what I presume is their nest and then settle back down again, hidden by the marsh grasses. Even Kat said they were just taunting me.
I thought about taking a walk into the marsh, but we had so much to do in the yard; I just didn't want to stop working on such a beautiful day.
Some birding club members are coming out here on Wednesday night to case some locations for the upcoming Birding Cup competition, so I can't wait to tell Roana that in addition to sora, Virginia rail, American bittern, and great blue heron, she might get a great egret! Boy, this marsh just rocks so hard; I love living here!
The garden grows!
My grand plan to roto-till and compost my veggie garden this weekend worked, with Nature’s grudging permission. Under a cloudy and sometimes drizzly sky, Kat and I roto-tilled until we could roto-till no more. I would’ve captured this with photos but (a) it didn’t occur to me and (b) I would’ve been too exhausted to even press the shutter. The ground was damp, but not too wet to work. Still, tilling hard ground is difficult, and Kat has a broken finger in a big splint! But my baby worked that roto-tiller until it dropped. And she dropped. And I dropped.
One of my sore arms; my right hand is still so shaky I can barely auto-focus:
Can you see the pain? Look at my blister!
But it was all worth it! Here is the (almost) final result (I still have a lot of seeds to plant):
Kat re-designed my old layout, moving the door and pulling the fence in off the lawn a few feet. To compensate for those lost few feet, we planted the tomatoes, which the bunnies rarely bother, in the bed near the house:
Once the daffodils die out and the toms grow taller, I’m hoping to stake them into some sort of obedience within this smaller space. I don’t know if it will work, but Kat’s confident, so I am too.
The unfenced feet, then, will house Kat’s flowers, two blueberry bushes, a blackberry, a raspberry, and some eggplant, which we’ll train up onto the arch. (I’ll be spraying the little plants with hot-pepper spray, to deter bunnies.)
The blueberry:
That big stick is just a marker; the tiny twig I'm holding is the blueberry plant. Er--it's gonna take a while to get established.
Some flowers:
The ever-growing compost heap, now covered with mushroom compost:
A pretty little bug on a dandy flower:
I love those little curly--I guess they’re stamens?
I hope this year’s garden turns out better than last year’s. Last year, we didn’t roto-till and I didn’t weed. I was very involved in beginning to bird and starting this blog, so I admit I kind-of paid less attention to the garden than I should have. However, I did dig the fence down after several bunny disasters cost me my lettuce and cilantro a few times. Still, it was an untidy place, and the yield was disappointing.
Going back to the archives, I found my second-ever post, entitled My Birdy Thoughts, on this blog:
What I'd like to have happen on this blog at some point:
1. photos of birds
2. a digiscoping camera thingie to take photos of birds
3. my life list
4. someone big-time like Birdchick reading my blog--even once!
5. questions for other beginning birders
I realized all these things have happened, even#4. Birdchick even chose one of Niblet’s disapproving photos for her Disapproving Rabbits book! It’s gratifying to look back and see what I’ve accomplished. My lifelist has practically doubled (which isn’t saying that much, as it’s still fewer than 100 birds), I’ve got a decent beginner’s digiscoping rig (which will be complete once my tripod arrives tomorrow by UPS!), and I’ve certainly posted lots of bird photos and questions for other birders, both beginners and experienced ones. I’m getting a little teary-eyed. . . .
So I’ll leave you with these links to two posts from August 2006, about Niblet’s experience in the weedy garden.
Part 1 and
Part 2
One of my sore arms; my right hand is still so shaky I can barely auto-focus:
Can you see the pain? Look at my blister!
But it was all worth it! Here is the (almost) final result (I still have a lot of seeds to plant):
Kat re-designed my old layout, moving the door and pulling the fence in off the lawn a few feet. To compensate for those lost few feet, we planted the tomatoes, which the bunnies rarely bother, in the bed near the house:
Once the daffodils die out and the toms grow taller, I’m hoping to stake them into some sort of obedience within this smaller space. I don’t know if it will work, but Kat’s confident, so I am too.
The unfenced feet, then, will house Kat’s flowers, two blueberry bushes, a blackberry, a raspberry, and some eggplant, which we’ll train up onto the arch. (I’ll be spraying the little plants with hot-pepper spray, to deter bunnies.)
The blueberry:
That big stick is just a marker; the tiny twig I'm holding is the blueberry plant. Er--it's gonna take a while to get established.
Some flowers:
The ever-growing compost heap, now covered with mushroom compost:
A pretty little bug on a dandy flower:
I love those little curly--I guess they’re stamens?
I hope this year’s garden turns out better than last year’s. Last year, we didn’t roto-till and I didn’t weed. I was very involved in beginning to bird and starting this blog, so I admit I kind-of paid less attention to the garden than I should have. However, I did dig the fence down after several bunny disasters cost me my lettuce and cilantro a few times. Still, it was an untidy place, and the yield was disappointing.
Going back to the archives, I found my second-ever post, entitled My Birdy Thoughts, on this blog:
What I'd like to have happen on this blog at some point:
1. photos of birds
2. a digiscoping camera thingie to take photos of birds
3. my life list
4. someone big-time like Birdchick reading my blog--even once!
5. questions for other beginning birders
I realized all these things have happened, even#4. Birdchick even chose one of Niblet’s disapproving photos for her Disapproving Rabbits book! It’s gratifying to look back and see what I’ve accomplished. My lifelist has practically doubled (which isn’t saying that much, as it’s still fewer than 100 birds), I’ve got a decent beginner’s digiscoping rig (which will be complete once my tripod arrives tomorrow by UPS!), and I’ve certainly posted lots of bird photos and questions for other birders, both beginners and experienced ones. I’m getting a little teary-eyed. . . .
So I’ll leave you with these links to two posts from August 2006, about Niblet’s experience in the weedy garden.
Part 1 and
Part 2
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Squirrel nest-building!
Kat and I were walking onto campus this afternoon and I saw a brownish-colored squirrel, rummaging around in a nest-like bunch of twigs about 20 feet from the ground, in a birch tree. I thought at first that he might be preying on the eggs of some bird; however, I quickly realized he (or she?) was building a nest!
I wish I could tell you I have some great photos or even video, but I had nothing with me to capture this magical moment! My description will have to suffice. Sorry!
The squirrel would hop from thick trunk to trunk, looking for twigs. He then nibbled the twigs off, usually to a length of 10-15 inches (from what I could judge from the ground). Then he would secure the twig in his mouth, hop back over to the nest in the crook of a large branch, and weave the twig into place. I watched for about ten minutes as he did this, twig after twig. I tried to remain hidden, but it's possible that he saw me and was spooked; he hopped his way over to an adjoining oak, then disappeared.
I never knew that squirrels even built nests, much less nests in trees. But now I've seen one in construction. I just wish I'd had my camera. He was really cute.
I wish I could tell you I have some great photos or even video, but I had nothing with me to capture this magical moment! My description will have to suffice. Sorry!
The squirrel would hop from thick trunk to trunk, looking for twigs. He then nibbled the twigs off, usually to a length of 10-15 inches (from what I could judge from the ground). Then he would secure the twig in his mouth, hop back over to the nest in the crook of a large branch, and weave the twig into place. I watched for about ten minutes as he did this, twig after twig. I tried to remain hidden, but it's possible that he saw me and was spooked; he hopped his way over to an adjoining oak, then disappeared.
I never knew that squirrels even built nests, much less nests in trees. But now I've seen one in construction. I just wish I'd had my camera. He was really cute.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Focus on the Family
No, don't worry; this is most definitely NOT the Colorado-based, super-far-right, anti-choice, anti-anything-but-right-wing-weirdos Focus on the Family. (No, I'm not linking to it, either!) This post is a focus on our family, or more precisely, our kitties and bunny. It all started because I got probably the best photo of Clawsie ever taken today (she doesn't even look like she's going to scratch your eyes out!) so I figured I needed to post it right away! Then, of course, everyone wanted equal time, so we'll start the roll call. I'll even include all their various nicknames!
It took about ten minutes of coaxing, petting, snapping pictures, and luck to get this shot of Miss Kitty Claws, aka Clawsie, aka Miss Nasty Face. Here, though, she looks positively exorcised of her usual evil:
I was even lucky enough to catch all the kitties sitting on the Little Tower of Kitty Power today. Of course, they were all bird-watching, as is their habit:
From top to bottom, Sweet Kitty Kisses, aka Kisses, aka Sweet Girl; Sweet Sugar Cookies, aka Cookies, aka The Little One; and Clawsie, aka The Fat One, aka The Little Bear.
Finally, here's little Niblet, aka Nibble, aka My-Little-Son-Moon-and-Stars, aka Nibbelette doing a funny little pose:
Kat's not about having her pic on the blog, and you've already seen me at Cape May, so that is the end of the show!
It took about ten minutes of coaxing, petting, snapping pictures, and luck to get this shot of Miss Kitty Claws, aka Clawsie, aka Miss Nasty Face. Here, though, she looks positively exorcised of her usual evil:
I was even lucky enough to catch all the kitties sitting on the Little Tower of Kitty Power today. Of course, they were all bird-watching, as is their habit:
From top to bottom, Sweet Kitty Kisses, aka Kisses, aka Sweet Girl; Sweet Sugar Cookies, aka Cookies, aka The Little One; and Clawsie, aka The Fat One, aka The Little Bear.
Finally, here's little Niblet, aka Nibble, aka My-Little-Son-Moon-and-Stars, aka Nibbelette doing a funny little pose:
Kat's not about having her pic on the blog, and you've already seen me at Cape May, so that is the end of the show!
Graduation night, birding morning
Coming up with titles for these posts is sometimes difficult, but the one above covers the signficant events of the past 24 hours, so there it is.
First, Kat and I, Joche, Kelly, and a friend's two children Ben and Sarah attended Kat's Lavender Graduation. This is an intimate, special ceremony held at PSU to honor LGBTA (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and allies) graduates. (Kat finished her first M.S. (in Human Development and Family Studies) in August; she still has the PhD to go, of course, plus another M.S. in Applied Statistics. Yeah. Insert confused expression here.) It was a really neat graduation ceremony--certainly far superior to, say, my high school graduation where we had to endure a woman singing "Climb Every Mountain" from The Sound of Music, followed by the hours-long parade of about 700 students across the stage. Oy vey.
At Lavender Graduation, there is a dinner (all vegetarian!), then a Significant Other Award ceremony, where the graduate goes up and reads a dedication to someone (or someones) who helped him or her succeed. There were parents, best friends, partners, and children. Kat pulled me onstage, gave me a rose, and said,
Because you have nourished my body, spririt, and soul... because you give me serenity in knowing that things will happen as they were meant to happen... because you walked the line carefully between our desires and my needs... because you have shared the joy and pain of every exam, every deadline, and every sentence misplaced... because you never complained about reading another draft... because even when you lost my keys, you found them again... you are my significant other."
Oh dear, the keys... Let's just say that more than once, I've had to had to make a special trip home to give Kat her keys, which mysteriously found their way into my pocket and went to work with me....
Anyway, then there was a speaker, then the grads walked across and were presented with a really neat stole and a degree certificate. It was really neat; even the kids (12 and 7) enjoyed it and were perfect little angels during the entire 3-hour affair.
This morning, then, I woke up about 8:30 with Clawsie in my face, demanding breakfast. Once that big bear gets in your face, you really have to get up; otherwise, she's knocking things off the nightstand, gently gnawing on exposed bits of skin, biting your hair, and generally being a nuisance. "She's always hungry. She always needs to feed."
So I listened to the morning songs of the birds and as usual, heard so many songs I was overwhelmed. Let me describe a few for you, because even though I went out with binocs and camera, confident I could find the source of the calls (they sounded so close by!) I didn't see any birds making these noises! That's so frustrating to me; I'll hear the sound, I'll scan in the direction, sure I will see some warbler or thrush or whatever, and NOTHING! I think all the brown birds just mix into the very brown background of leafless trees or something.
Here's a view of where a lot of the birdsongs were coming from; this is the view across the street:
I saw a bunch of American goldfinches, but they were too fast for my camera. They're in full breeding plumage now, and I saw males and females. We usually got a lot of them, especially in the summer when the thistle is in full bloom across the road.
Now back to the songs, or at least my transcription of what I heard:
1. PER-doo-dee-PER-doo-dee-PER-doo-dee: This sound had the rhythm of a witchety-witchety or a teakettle-teakettle, but it really didn't sound like either of those.
2. dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee all on the same note, then shifting up about a fourth to repeat on that note: this one was really strange; first time I've heard it here. I would've thought "Sam Peabody-Peabody-Peabody" but it wasn't like that at all. It was a monotonous sound, same kind-of flat note, then shifting up to a higher note.
3. two notes that sounded almost like a wolf whistle, only less leering and more like a “hey there” whistle. But not a phoebe.
There were millions more, but these are the ones I was able to isolate and transcribe. It's so frustrating to me that I can have a great ear for music (I taught myself to play guitar by ear, and I was a monster clarinet player in school), yet bird songs somehow just escape me.
The guy at work who's a birder, Hillel, told me that it takes a lot of time to train your ear for bird songs and that I just have to be patient. But it's hard! Those of you who've read my blog from the beginning know that I am NOT a patient learner; I just seem to expect myself to start something, learn it quickly, then master it just as quickly. That's how I roll--in most things. But birding is by far the most difficult thing I've undertaken in a long time. I guess that might be why I love it so much.
(There's a mourning dove right outside my window, just pecking for seeds and hanging out. The cats are mesmerized. Such good birders they are!)
So--I didn't get photos of these songbirds. However, I got some other photos on my little walk around the house, so I'll show you those.
I stepped out to find a benneh next to the fence:
Chet Baker would've freaked!
Then I found a mysterious hole just right up against the front of the house:
Who made this hole? A bunny? Look at the footprints. Maybe Science Chimp will help out here. So is this guy living under my house now? Perhaps I should check the basement....
I watched several birds flitting around in the yew tree beside the house; I didn't get any good pics though. But I did find some unfortunate nest issues:
Did these blow out of the tree? Did some picky female judge them inferior and demand a do-over?
We planted these little white flowers last spring, but then prompty forgot what the heck they were called:
Anyone? Anyone?
By now I'd rounded my way around the front and the side of the house, to the backyard. I have a pine tree back here that doesn't look so good. Part of it looks like this:
But part of it looks like this:
Should I be concerned? It is awfully wet back there, on the fenceline next to some sort of drain-looking structure:
No idea what's going on here. This house was built in the 1830s, and in the time since then I imagine there have been many tenants, each of whom had their own little ideas about home improvement. As a result, there are a lot of things I don't understand about the house and the grounds. But back to the tree--do you think it's okay?
Somehow, this egg looks like it was the victim of a predator; it looks like the yolk and white were not quite entirely sucked out:
I found this whole cracked egg in the old veggie garden. Sad. It had obviously developed past the yolk/white stage:
Oh dear.
But enough sadness. I saw a white-throated sparrow; I thought these guys had all gone farther north already, but I guess not:
The marsh today, still rather brown and dead:
Is this a turkey vulture?
Luckily, he was just flying over and didn't find anything to interest him here.
Daffodils, photographed in too much sunlight:
The promise of beautiful purple irises:
The flowering bush in front of Neighbor Ed's house:
The turkey-tail mushroom out on the stump:
And look at this!
I planted these onion sets last year, harvested only a few small onions, and suspected the rest had just frozen and died! But not these onions. Looks like I'll be able to make fresh home-grown salsa again this year!
That does it! I'm going to the plant nursery! I can't wait any longer! Au revoir!
First, Kat and I, Joche, Kelly, and a friend's two children Ben and Sarah attended Kat's Lavender Graduation. This is an intimate, special ceremony held at PSU to honor LGBTA (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and allies) graduates. (Kat finished her first M.S. (in Human Development and Family Studies) in August; she still has the PhD to go, of course, plus another M.S. in Applied Statistics. Yeah. Insert confused expression here.) It was a really neat graduation ceremony--certainly far superior to, say, my high school graduation where we had to endure a woman singing "Climb Every Mountain" from The Sound of Music, followed by the hours-long parade of about 700 students across the stage. Oy vey.
At Lavender Graduation, there is a dinner (all vegetarian!), then a Significant Other Award ceremony, where the graduate goes up and reads a dedication to someone (or someones) who helped him or her succeed. There were parents, best friends, partners, and children. Kat pulled me onstage, gave me a rose, and said,
Because you have nourished my body, spririt, and soul... because you give me serenity in knowing that things will happen as they were meant to happen... because you walked the line carefully between our desires and my needs... because you have shared the joy and pain of every exam, every deadline, and every sentence misplaced... because you never complained about reading another draft... because even when you lost my keys, you found them again... you are my significant other."
Oh dear, the keys... Let's just say that more than once, I've had to had to make a special trip home to give Kat her keys, which mysteriously found their way into my pocket and went to work with me....
Anyway, then there was a speaker, then the grads walked across and were presented with a really neat stole and a degree certificate. It was really neat; even the kids (12 and 7) enjoyed it and were perfect little angels during the entire 3-hour affair.
This morning, then, I woke up about 8:30 with Clawsie in my face, demanding breakfast. Once that big bear gets in your face, you really have to get up; otherwise, she's knocking things off the nightstand, gently gnawing on exposed bits of skin, biting your hair, and generally being a nuisance. "She's always hungry. She always needs to feed."
So I listened to the morning songs of the birds and as usual, heard so many songs I was overwhelmed. Let me describe a few for you, because even though I went out with binocs and camera, confident I could find the source of the calls (they sounded so close by!) I didn't see any birds making these noises! That's so frustrating to me; I'll hear the sound, I'll scan in the direction, sure I will see some warbler or thrush or whatever, and NOTHING! I think all the brown birds just mix into the very brown background of leafless trees or something.
Here's a view of where a lot of the birdsongs were coming from; this is the view across the street:
I saw a bunch of American goldfinches, but they were too fast for my camera. They're in full breeding plumage now, and I saw males and females. We usually got a lot of them, especially in the summer when the thistle is in full bloom across the road.
Now back to the songs, or at least my transcription of what I heard:
1. PER-doo-dee-PER-doo-dee-PER-doo-dee: This sound had the rhythm of a witchety-witchety or a teakettle-teakettle, but it really didn't sound like either of those.
2. dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee all on the same note, then shifting up about a fourth to repeat on that note: this one was really strange; first time I've heard it here. I would've thought "Sam Peabody-Peabody-Peabody" but it wasn't like that at all. It was a monotonous sound, same kind-of flat note, then shifting up to a higher note.
3. two notes that sounded almost like a wolf whistle, only less leering and more like a “hey there” whistle. But not a phoebe.
There were millions more, but these are the ones I was able to isolate and transcribe. It's so frustrating to me that I can have a great ear for music (I taught myself to play guitar by ear, and I was a monster clarinet player in school), yet bird songs somehow just escape me.
The guy at work who's a birder, Hillel, told me that it takes a lot of time to train your ear for bird songs and that I just have to be patient. But it's hard! Those of you who've read my blog from the beginning know that I am NOT a patient learner; I just seem to expect myself to start something, learn it quickly, then master it just as quickly. That's how I roll--in most things. But birding is by far the most difficult thing I've undertaken in a long time. I guess that might be why I love it so much.
(There's a mourning dove right outside my window, just pecking for seeds and hanging out. The cats are mesmerized. Such good birders they are!)
So--I didn't get photos of these songbirds. However, I got some other photos on my little walk around the house, so I'll show you those.
I stepped out to find a benneh next to the fence:
Chet Baker would've freaked!
Then I found a mysterious hole just right up against the front of the house:
Who made this hole? A bunny? Look at the footprints. Maybe Science Chimp will help out here. So is this guy living under my house now? Perhaps I should check the basement....
I watched several birds flitting around in the yew tree beside the house; I didn't get any good pics though. But I did find some unfortunate nest issues:
Did these blow out of the tree? Did some picky female judge them inferior and demand a do-over?
We planted these little white flowers last spring, but then prompty forgot what the heck they were called:
Anyone? Anyone?
By now I'd rounded my way around the front and the side of the house, to the backyard. I have a pine tree back here that doesn't look so good. Part of it looks like this:
But part of it looks like this:
Should I be concerned? It is awfully wet back there, on the fenceline next to some sort of drain-looking structure:
No idea what's going on here. This house was built in the 1830s, and in the time since then I imagine there have been many tenants, each of whom had their own little ideas about home improvement. As a result, there are a lot of things I don't understand about the house and the grounds. But back to the tree--do you think it's okay?
Somehow, this egg looks like it was the victim of a predator; it looks like the yolk and white were not quite entirely sucked out:
I found this whole cracked egg in the old veggie garden. Sad. It had obviously developed past the yolk/white stage:
Oh dear.
But enough sadness. I saw a white-throated sparrow; I thought these guys had all gone farther north already, but I guess not:
The marsh today, still rather brown and dead:
Is this a turkey vulture?
Luckily, he was just flying over and didn't find anything to interest him here.
Daffodils, photographed in too much sunlight:
The promise of beautiful purple irises:
The flowering bush in front of Neighbor Ed's house:
The turkey-tail mushroom out on the stump:
And look at this!
I planted these onion sets last year, harvested only a few small onions, and suspected the rest had just frozen and died! But not these onions. Looks like I'll be able to make fresh home-grown salsa again this year!
That does it! I'm going to the plant nursery! I can't wait any longer! Au revoir!
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