Ol' Red Eyes

 I went out looking for lichens, and got a towhee as a bonus.

Spotted Towhee, Pipilo maculatus, male. The females have greyer heads. The white in the background is all that remains of the snow.

He was accompanied by his shy mate, who hid in the shrubbery.

And now, off to sort lichen photos.

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Salí a buscar líquenes, y me tocó recibir un premio. Un Toquí Moteado, Pipilo maculatus.

1. Es un macho; la cabeza de la hembra es gris. Las manchas de blanco en el fondo es todo lo que queda de la nieve despues de dos dias de lluvia.
2. Lo acompañaba su pareja, más tímida; se escondía entre los arbustos.

Y ahora me pondré a procesar fotos de líquenes.

Patience pays off

It was a good afternoon for birds at Oyster Bay. The birds, of course, were hiding or hopping (juncos) or flying, and/or a long, long way away, but the sun was shining and I was wearing my winter jacket; I was in no hurry. I sat on a couple of benches and a log, and waited.

So I even caught a junco between hops.

Junco in the old apple tree. With lichens.

A towhee watched me from the centre of a patch of wild roses, now leafless, and decorated with bright red rose hips. I sat, he sat; I kept waiting for him to come out from behind the branches. He kept waiting for me to leave. I gave up first.

All puffed out for the cold.

I took two photos 30 seconds apart, the one above with the pocket point and shoot, the next with the Nikon. Same bird, same lighting, same distance, same processing at home; different results.

That same junco. Here, his eyes are redder, his orange belly darker.

Wigeons. Three males.

The flock. The males have the green curve on their heads; females have brown heads.

Ducks and ancient pilings and brown water.

A sparrow trying to hide among the rose hips. Not looking happy about me.

Seen but not caught on camera: crows, a diving loon, a scurrying wren, umpteen mallards, circling peeps, calling as they flew, gulls in the air, on pilings, on distant rocks. One dropped a clam on the rocks a few metres in front of me.

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Era un buen dia para estar viendo pájaros en Oyster Bay. Los pájaros, claro, se estaban escondiendo, o estaban dando saltitos (los juncos), o volaban, o si no, estaban bien lejos. Pero había dejado de llover y salió el sol, y yo llevaba mi chaqueta de invierno; no tenía prisa. Me senté en un banco, en otro, en un tronco en la playa, y esperé.

Así que hasta capturé un junco en un momento en que dejó de dar saltos.

1. El junco en el viejo manzano.
2. Este Pipilo maculatus me observaba desde el centro de un grupo de rosales silvestres, ahora sin hojas y decoradas con escaramujos, sus frutos rojos. Yo me quedé sentada; el se quedó sentado; yo esperaba a que saliera de detrás de las ramas, el esperaba a que yo me fuera. El fue vencedor.
3. Saqué estas dos fotos una tras otra, una 30 segundos después de la primera. La primera fue con mi cámara de bolsillo, la segunda con el Nikon. La misma luz, el mismo sitio, la misma distancia, procesadas en casa igualmente, pero las fotos son muy distintas. En la segunda se ven sus ojos de rojo fuerte.
4. Tres patos Anas americana, machos.
5. Una bandada de estos patos. Los machos tienen la marca verde en la cabeza; la cabeza de las hembras es color marrón o gris.
6. Otros patos (Patos reales, hembras, probablemente) y pilotes antiguos, en agua color de café.
7. Un gorrión tratando de esconderse entre las ramas y los escaramujos. No parece estar contento.

Vistos, pero sin fotos: cuervos, un colimbo buceando, un trogloditido (chochín) que corría entre los troncos en la playa, gran número de patos reales, aves playeras "peeps" llamando mientras volaban en círculos, gaviotas en el aire, en los pilotes, en las rocas. Una dejó caer una almeja sobre las rocas para romperla, a apenas unos metros de donde yo caminaba.

Orange feathers, orange berries

Sitting in a quiet garden on a sunny September afternoon, I watched the birds harvesting fall goodies; newly-matured seeds, red mountain-ash berries, probably some incautious spiders. Sparrows turned over leaf litter under the shrubbery, a flock of juncos dashed from pear tree to dying dahlias to the tall sunflowers, hummingbirds zipped about overhead. And this shy towhee kept close to the cover of the pyracantha on the far side of the lawn, eating orange berries that matched his flank feathers, dropping down at times to freshen up in a shallow bath.

Towhee eating pyracantha berries.

Meditative bath

"No fair! He's been hogging the bath for hours!"

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En un jardín tranquilo en una tarde de septiembre, miraba los pájaros que se ocupaban en cosechar las delicias de otoño: semillas recién formadas, las bayas rojas de fresno de montaña (Sorbus sitchensis), probablemente algunas arañas descuidadas. Los gorriones revolvían las hojas caídas debajo de los arbustos; una bandada de juncos volaban desde el peral hasta las dalias, con sus flores medio deshechas, pasando a dar la vuelta a los girasoles; varios colibríes pasaban velozmente entre los árboles más altos. Y este Towhee tímido se mantuvo cerca de la protección de los espinos de fuego (Pyracantha) en el lado más retirado del jardín, comiendo bayas del mismo color que sus plumas al costado, bajando de vez en cuando para refrescarse en los baños al pie de las plantas.

Fotos:

1. El towhee, comiendo bayas de Pyracantha.
2. Meditando en su baño.
3. Dice — ¡Qué falta de educación! ¡Hace horas que monopoliza el baño!

Tenacity

The snowplow came and I went out for a long drive, and a short walk, some of it through snow up to my knees. Trees and lakes (3) and a river, all white and smooth and gleaming, even the packed snow of the road once I was off the highway. And then I came home and found this at my front door.

My sweet peas, still doggedly producing flowers, snow or no snow.

My iron birds in their iron birdbath.

I hadn't noticed, until I downloaded the photo, the two sprouts of alyssum, one already flowering. Doing fall cleanup a couple of weeks ago, I cut the whole patch down, They're not giving up, not them!

And this was along the road, near Mirror Lake: towhees are ground foragers, but their ground was under a foot of white stuff, so they were picking at the bedraggled leaves still hanging on the bushes.

And then another car went by and they all flew away.

The temperature went down to -8° Celsius yesterday, A bit low for this location, but not the lowest it has been historically. Now it's back up to 2° above zero, and rain is on the schedule. So the snow will melt, down by the shore at least. Not up where the towhees were; that's a bit over 200 metres above sea level, enough to make a difference.

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Llegó el quitanieves, y yo tomé la carretera y caminos hacia el oeste. Un paseo en coche largo, y una caminata corta, en parte abriendo camino en nieve que me llegaba a las rodillas. Los árboles, los lagos (3), un rio, todo era blanco, liso, brillante, hasta el camino de nieve comprimido una vez dejada la carretera. Y luego llegué a casa y encontré esto esperándome frente a mi puerta.

Fotos:

1. Mis guisantes de olor, todavía produciendo flores. Con o sin nieve, a 8° bajo cero o no; persisten.
2. Dos pájaros de hierro (uno cubierto de nieve) en su fuentecito de hierro. No había notado en el momento, pero luego vi esos dos brotes de flor-de-mel. Hace unas semanas, haciendo la limpieza de otoño, corté las plantas hasta el suelo. No se dan por vencido.
3. Y esto no es en casa. Al lado del lago Mirror (Espejo) vi unos pipilos entre las ramas. Normalmente son pájaros que buscan su comida en el suelo, pero ahora su suelo está bajo 30 centímetros de nieve. Y estaban buscando en las hojas desbaratadas que todavía siguen colgadas bajo el amparo del árbol de hojas perennes.

La temperatura bajó hasta 8° bajo cero Centígrado ayer. Algo más bajo de lo acostumbrado en esta zona, pero no sin precedente. Pero ahora ya subió a 2° sobre cero, y nos prometen lluvia. Entonces la nieve desaparecerá, por lo menos aquí al nivel del mar. Pero persistirá allá donde viven los pipilos; ese rumbo está un poco más de 200 metros sobre el nivel del mar, suficiente para hacer la diferencia.

Four birds in the cold

 A few birds seen on a bright afternoon on Tyee Spit: the wind was brisk and chilly, and I zipped up my winter jacket and pulled the hood close around my head. How the birds, so tiny, so bare-legged, so exposed, handle it I never can comprehend.

Towhee among blackberry canes.

Through the windshield; a chilled gull.

Glorious colours of a male mallard.

Eagles love to perch on the topmost branches of tall trees.

The same eagle from a different angle.

The rest: loons and wigeons, cormorants and sparrows and crows, pigeons and more mallards, were all too fast for my frozen shutter finger.

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Cuatro pájaros vistos en una vuelta a la lengua de tierra Tyee; hacía sol, pero el viento era fuerte y helado; yo subí el cierre de mi chaqueta de invierno y até el capuchón alrededor de mi cara; como es que estos pajaritos, tan pequeños, con las patas al descubierto, tan expuestos, se mantienen activos y felices, nunca podré comprender.

Fotos:

1. Un toquí moteado entre cañas de mora.
2. Una gaviota algo hinchado por el frio, vista por mi parabrisas.
3. Los patos machos mallard lucen sus plumaje de colores vívidos, sobre todo en esta temporada.
4. y 5. A los águilas les gusta posarse en las ramas más altas de los árboles.

Los demás, los colimbos, los wigeons, los cormoranes y los gorriones y cuervos, las palomas y muchos patos mallard, todos se movían demasiado rápido para mi dedo casi congelado en el obturador de la cámara.

Just birds.

Backyard inventory: the usual visitors. Sometimes we forget to notice these; just another little brown bird, just another robin. And those starlings! What a nuisance, gobbling down all the suet!

How blind we can be at times!

Birdbath, with starlings and garden angel.

Another bath, this one with a robin.

Sparrow looking over the selection of peanuts.

Towhee and peanut tray.

Varied thrush are shy birds. I came one step closer and he left and didn't come back.

Golden-crowned sparrow.

That downy woodpecker again. Not a regular. I liked the pattern of the busy wings.

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Casi no los vemos a veces; los pájaros "normales', los que siempre visitan nuestros jardines familiares. Otro gorrión, decimos, otro petirrojo. Nada especial. ¡Y esos estorninos! ¡Son una plaga; se comen toda el sebo y no dejan nada para los otros!

A veces parece que estamos ciegos.

Aquí, unos de esos pájaros que pasamos por alto.

1. El baño de pájaros con estorninos.
2. Otro baño, este con un petirrojo.
3. Un gorrión contemplando la charola de los cacahuates.
4. Un rascador (toquí).
5. Un zorzal pinto. Estos pájaros son muy tímidos. Apenas di un paso más, y voló. Y no regresó.
6. Otro gorrión, este con la corona dorada.
7. El pajarito carpintero otra vez. Una visita insólita. Me gustó como se ven las alas en movimiento.
8. 
   

Leafless.

 Bare branches ...

With towhee.

With robin

Birdless. As far as I can tell.

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 Ramas secas, sin hojas.

1. Con toquí moteado (Pipilo maculatus).

2. Con petirrojo.

3. Sin pájaros. (Por lo menos pájaros visibles.)

And a Towhee in a Pear Tree

... they were out of partridges.

And it's a bit cold for pears, but at least there were lights.

May your Christmas season be full of things wild and wonderful!

Party in the plum tree

It snowed overnight and all morning, as promised. Around noon, I replenished the plum tree's stock of bird treats, and went back inside to take photos through the window. The birds got there even before I did.

Party time!

Starlings, towhees, a sparrow, and a junco.

The rest of the juncos were on the ground below, picking up the suet crumbs that the starlings kept dropping. A chickadee dropped by, grabbed a sunflower seed, and flew away to hammer at it in peace before I got the camera focused.

The brown "box" behind the tree is the neighbour's chimney; against it, the steadily falling snow is visible.

And then, I took the camera to the park and a wetland while the snow was still coming down. Photos anon.

Reifel regulars

The second installment of Reifel Island photos, in no particular order:

Coot and his shadow.

I looked up voice recordings of the coot, on All About Birds (Cornell), because I was wondering how to spell the call I hear most often. Surprisingly, they have seven separate recordings, of various squeaks, clicks, and squawks, "krrps" and "priks", but not the note I was looking for; a hollow "glop" sound, sort of like a cork popping out of a wine bottle, or a like a booted foot, stuck in ankle-deep mud, reluctantly released;, a backwards "plop". That doesn't quite do it justice, though; the other calls are grating. This one is almost musical, a nice rounded tone, suddenly being cut off mid-note. Have you heard it? How would you describe it?

Cross-eyed eagle. Not his fault; he had a branch in his eye and I took it out.

Ma Wood Duck, showing off her many petticoats.

"Hurry, hurry! Someone has goodies!"

I am always surprised at the sharp hearing of the ducks. Even against a constant chorus of "Quack, quack, quack, oh quack-quack-quack-quack-QUACK!", as soon as someone a couple of ponds away rustles a bit of paper, ducks from all over drop what they're doing and race to the source. This time, all I had to do to wake up a hundred sleepy mallards was to slowly slide the bag of seeds out of my pocket.

Fat little towhee in a wild cherry tree. Or are those small crabapples?

Three more wood ducks and reflections.

More to come, tomorrow.

Hooray for snow!

We finally got some snow! And it hasn't rained on it yet! It's melting, but maybe enough will stay put to settle over the mulch of maple leaves on our garden, and keep it warm for the rest of the winter. I'm hoping.

It's been too dark around here for the BirdCam; no sun, dusk-like conditions all day, every day. But today, light flooded my little shady corner, and I set the camera out for the day.

Juncos, juncos, juncos; usually moving too fast, always too dark without flash, but washed out by the reflections from the snow with flash. Chickadees and a few sparrows, mostly flying away.

But a brave towhee came in close to get the seeds I put out for them. And my faithful wooden heron developed a crest, some fluffy neck feathers, and a wattle.

Bearded heron.

Towhee, showing off his sunflower seed

Another seed, also held upright.

Chickadees and juncos hold the sunflower seeds flat in their beaks. The chickadee then takes it to a handy branch and sets it down, held by a foot, while she pounds at it until it cracks. The junco cracks it where he finds it, still holding it flat in his beak and working it side to side.

I'm wondering about the towhees; do they crack the seed from the ends instead? I'll have to spend more time watching.

Time for a change in the weather. Please!

Another wet day. It alternately rained and snowed all morning and half of the afternoon. Towards supper, it cleared up for a bit, and a few birds came back for a bedtime snack.

Towhee and junco on a wet hedge

The last time I looked, it was foggy, but not raining. "Maybe the sun will shine tomorrow,"says Laurie. Hope springs eternal.

Winter delights

At Reifel Island:

Towhee

 The insects are gone, so are the blackberries. But there's still good food available:

Small wild crabapples, frozen solid. Delicious!

Mountain ash berries. A favourite treat, winter and summer.