Independence? Not yet!

I looked up from supper to see this white crowned sparrow family, three youngsters and a hard-working parent, getting their own meal outside my window.

Waiting his turn

The chicks are as tall as their mother.

When the mother's back was turned, the chicks kept busy picking up seeds and eating them. As soon as she came close, though, they immediately became helpless, and stood waiting to be fed. Little con artists!

Babes in the woods

It was still raining on the Delta slopes yesterday morning, but off to the west we could see blue sky. We grabbed our cameras and went to the White Rock/Ocean Park bluffs, and down the long stairs and trail to the beach.


At the viewing platform partway down, we stopped to take a photo of the water below.


These were among the trees beside the ramp:


A new Steller's Jay fledgling, still rumpled from the nest, and waiting to be fed.

And perched a mere couple of metres away, a hummingbird, a chick, I think.


Among the bright greens of new leaves in the sunlight, his iridescent back almost, but not quite, served as camouflage. Like the Steller's jay, he sat quietly, occasionally grooming himself, not attempting to fly away.

While we watched, another hummingbird arrived. This one did not perch, but buzzed around the chick until he abandoned his branch. The pair flew away behind the honeysuckle vines.

And that's just for starters; more later. Much more.
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First flight

Drip, drip

Sog.

Another drizzly day. In the afternoon, a tiny sparrow sat huddled and miserable on the wet cement of my patio.


I watched him for a long while. He wasn't moving, wasn't eating. Just sitting, puffed up and looking cold. I was considering whether to go out and see if he was injured, when the mother appeared. I'd seen her around; a jittery white-crowned sparrow, always in a great hurry. She looked the fledgling over and left. A moment later, another chick fluttered down to land beside the first.

Wishing they were back in the warm nest, maybe.

They perked up when Mommy joined them and started picking up seeds; they opened hungry beaks when she was near. She worked diligently, cracking seeds and feeding one baby, then the other.

A lot easier than ferrying seeds up to the nest one billfull at a time.

For about an hour, the chicks sat in the rain and ate. They grew more confident, more interested in their surroundings; they held their heads higher, they started to explore.

Bright eyes!

A bit later, they were hopping. And soon they had managed to hop up into the shrubbery, about 18 inches above the ground. And out of the rain. Mommy fed them there until bedtime.
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Cook wanted?

"Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?" Someone hidden in a dark stand of evergreens really wanted to know. A barred owl! And maybe, with the voice to guide us, we could find it.

We followed the sound, slowly, stopping often to get a bearing on the call. We were about to give up, when we saw the two owlets, sitting silently far above our heads.


The pair, nicely posed.


This one was a bit more active; the greyer one stayed huddled by the trunk. But they were both very interested in us; at first, this one bounced back and forth, as if trying to get a clearer view. Finally, it just settled down to watch.

According to the Owl Foundation, the young owls begin to leave the nest around 4 weeks of age, first one, then a few days later, the next. I would imagine, by this, that the one close to the trunk is probably a bit younger, and a bit timid yet.

The neck markings (cross-wise stripes) are clearly visible, and the breast stripes (vertical stripes) are just beginning to show. The head will be the last to develop adult feathers; now it almost looks as if it were wrapped in a soft baby blanket.

The adult was no longer calling. The little wood was quiet, except for the subdued clicking of our cameras.

10 minutes went by, a quarter-hour, maybe, while we tried to focus the cameras through the branches. Then, suddenly, both owlets lost interest: something was happening off to one side.




Mommy was coming!


I thought maybe she had come to feed them, but I was mistaken. She nuzzled little Brownie's ear.

These owlets didn't scream for food, nor even open their beaks, the way other young birds do; they sat still and silent on their branch the whole time.


The nuzzling was vigorous. I had to laugh; Brownie has the same pained look that a little boy gets when his parents wash his face.

After she left, Brownie did a little exultant dance for us, flapping wings, turning on the branch and fluffing up his feathers. He still made no sound.



And now, we found the mother's perch, high on a tree behind us.


She watched us until we left.
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Owlets!

Seen in Bear Creek Park, this afternoon.

More on these later.
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And Baby makes Three

At my window yesterday afternoon:

House finches

Very new, very trembly chick.

I'm hungry, Mommy!
(Note: he'd barely had time to swallow a big mouthful. Like a little kid; wants "one in dis hand, one in dis hand, and one in me mouf.")

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