Do you see what I see?

I'm going to start this post off with a very bad, horrible photo, taken from the car window in the museum parking lot. As is, as it came out of the camera, with just the processing needed to convert it from RAW to jpeg.

This is what I saw, and almost deleted the photo:

Do you see it?

Straggly grasses, fallen big-leaf maple leaves, fallen Douglas-fir cones and branches, a bit of snow, a bit of kinnikinnick, cement, old sticks, and — do you see the varied thrush? So well camouflaged; if it weren't for the grey cement, she* would be invisible.

Here she is, after cropping and sharpening the photo. Now she's visible, sort of. Of course, she wasn't quite in focus; the camera hadn't seen her. I only took the photo because I noticed movement, without seeing what caused it.

Fuzzy varied thrush, blending in to her surroundings.

Varied thrushes are shy birds, usually foraging under deep cover, and likely to fly away at any interruption. But I hadn't noticed before effective their colouring — those bright oranges, the speckles and stripes — is, especially in the winter, when the protection of summer leaves is gone.

She's a bit clearer away from those big-leaf maple leaves.

And with kinnikinnick as a backdrop.

I had been sitting quietly in the car for a few minutes, thawing out my frozen fingers, so she stayed around, digging through the dead leaves and old sticks, evidently finding something edible, to judge by the way she would suddenly jab downward, then resume scratching at the duff again. She eats insects, in summer mainly; in winter they are gone into hiding, and she eats wild berries and fruit. But there may have been a few insects still sheltered under the detritus.

*She's a female: males wear darker tones of the same colours.

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Empiezo este post con una foto horrible, que saqué desde la ventana del coche en el estacionamiento del museo. La foto es tal como salió de la cámara, aparte del proceso de convertirla a un jpeg.

Esto es lo que vi, y casi casi borré la foto sin fijarme más:

Foto #1: La** ves?

Se ven hojas de arce de hoja grande caídas, piñas y ramas caídas de abeto de Douglas, un poco de nieve, un poco de kinnikinnick, cemento, palitos viejos, y — ¿ves el pájaro? Un zorzal pinto hembra. Tan bueno su camuflaje: si no fuera por el cemento, no la hubiera visto.

 

Aquí está la foto, después de recortarla y afinarla. Ahora se ve mejor. No está bien enfocada, pues la cámara tampoco la había visto. Yo solo vi movimiento, y por eso saqué una foto.

Foto #2: El pájaro, un poco borroso, y haciéndose parte del ambiente.

Los zorzales son pájaros tímidos. Casi siempre buscan su comida bajo la vegetación densa, y al menor movimiento se echan a volar. Pero no me había fijado antes que bien sus colores — anaranjado, y con manchas y rayas — le sirven de camuflaje en el invierno, cuando las hojas que le protegen en el verano han desaparecido.

Foto #3: Se ve mejor alejada de las hojas de arce de hoja grande.

Foto #4: Y con el kinnikinnick como fondo.

Yo había estado sentada, muy quieta, por un rato en en coche, calentando mis dedos congelados antes de echarme en marcha. Será por eso que el pájaro se quedó tranquilamente buscando entre las hojas caídas por los insectos, que parece que encontraba, por el modo en que de repente picaba y luego volvía a revolver todo como antes. Come insectos, principalmente en el verano; en invierno se mantiene comiendo frutillas y una que otra semilla, ya que los insectos están escondidos. Pero puede ser que todavía hallaba algunos aquí entre las hojas.

**Es una hembra: los machos tienen los colores más fuertes.

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. 
   

Rare glimpse of varied thrush

My old camera sits in a drawer by my desk, just in case something lands in the birdbath. I had forgotten how long it was since I looked to see what it held. This pair of varied thrushes showed up just beyond the garden a month ago. I haven't seen them since.

I think this is the female, with my wooden heron guarding her.

The pair, poking through the soggy moss and buttercup leaves that is supposed to be a lawn.

November colours

It's changeover time; neither winter nor summer, but with bits of both. When and where the sun shines, it's warm, even too warm. Step into the shade, and you start to shiver. One minute, I'm wearing a tuque and gloves, the next, I'm shedding my sweater.

Down at the beach, the water is an icy blue, and numbs my toes in an instant. (Yes, I went wading today. I had to get fresh sea water for my critters. The sacrifices I make for them! I hope they appreciate it!)  Ice clouds float high in the sky; beneath them, between cold sky and cold water, Mount Baker flaunts her fresh snow cap.

Mount Baker, November 5.

The trees rebel, turning cool green leaves into flames, red, yellow, orange. I feel warm, just looking at them.

Cottonwood, Centennial Beach.

Summer is still with us, in bits and pieces.

From the pale warmth at the center of a hawkweed seed head...

to the miniature sun of a marigold among the weeds. White Rock beach.

Evergreens, maples and cottonwood, Cougar Creek Park.

Varied thrush, Cougar Creek.

Fallen big-leaf maple leaves, glowing in the setting sun.

Cottonwood and willow. Duck pond, Centennial Beach.

Dying reeds, reflected in the duck pond.

This afternoon, I was surprised to find these flowers still going strong in a boulevard at Beach Grove.

Strawberry tree fruit. It's edible, but I haven't tried it. The birds will eat these.

Let it freeze! There are red maples in the parking lots!

A Skywatch post.

Grey day, with accent colours.

The morning dawned grey and cold, and the few rays of pale sunshine that warmed the treetops were gone by noon. We put off going to the beach; the warmth of home appealed to us more. I fed my home birds and stood at the window, attempting to take photos in the shade without flash. The juncos and sparrows proved impossible; brown blurs on brown earth under brown branches. At least I was warm.

And there was still plenty to see:

Chickadee and turtle. The birdbath is stored until it stops freezing unexpectedly, but Mr. T. holds drinking water.

Rather scruffy squirrel. One of a pair that came together, and obviously the loser of several fights. Patches of hair missing, a bloody ear, and a badly irritated eye. (On the left side, not visible.)

Varied thrush, stopping the search for grubs to see what I was up to.

Checking the aquarium, I found a carnivorous snail eating light, for a change.

Detail of the shell. Look at that unusual squiggly tip.

Distant sunset 

We made a quick trip to the mall for muffins and meds. The sky, as we walked back to the car, was covered in spectacular, bright clouds. By the time I'd freed my hands, got the camera out of my pocket, and turned it on, it had faded to this. Sic transit gloria, Monday! (Sorry. I'll be good now.)

Injured Epimedium*. Not exactly Rowdy* at the moment.

I love this plant; it stays green through the winter, and when everything else freezes, it just turns red and keeps on growing. This winter, however, I was cleaning up before Christmas, and jostled the planter. Turns out the hook was rusty, after several years of use. It broke off and the whole (heavy) pot landed upside-down on my head. Ouch!

Luckily, most of the soil was frozen hard, so it stayed together. But the top of the plant was worse off than my head, broken and twisted. And I had no time to deal with it, so it got jammed back in the pot any old way. It will recover, but not yet. Still, it soldiers valiantly on, providing colour and cheer even on grey days.

*Also patiently tolerating other names, such as Rowdy Lamb Herb, Barrenwort, Bishop's Hat, Fairy Wings, Horny Goat Weed, or Yin Yang Huo. (Wikipedia)

A temptation too strong to resist

This varied thrush lives in our evergreens. Until now, he had rarely ventured beyond their cover or the shadow of the hedge. But he loves suet. Loves it so much, he has forgotten all his shyness; he even allows me to open the window and poke the camera out. It used to be that even my shadow moving inside the house was enough to send him scurrying back into the trees.


He's a ground feeder, so he contents himself with scratching for the crumbs that the chickadees and pine siskins drop from the hanging suet cage.

I wonder what he would think of Zick dough. I'll set some out for him tomorrow.

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Varied Thrush!

We've had another week of snow and below-zero weather. The bird bath, here on this shady side of the building, is frozen solid, no matter how often I fill it from the hot kettle. Except where we banged the snow off the rhododendron and the hedge, everything is under a thick, white blanket.
The birds will be hungrier than usual; our Lower Mainland birds aren't used to having their food sources buried.

I went shopping and forgot to buy bird seed; all I have left are the black oil sunflower seeds I special-ordered a few months back. And the juncos and other tiny birds can't manage those.

I scrounged through my cupboards. No bread. No cereal. No crackers. No fruit. I'm on a low-carb diet, but the birds aren't.

I found a jar of rolled oats. Ahhh! I added half a cup to the bowl I keep by the door (under the overhang, to keep the snow out), and kept watch. The juncos and towhees liked it. Good.

Today there was a varied thrush on the patio, tippy-toeing around the feeder bowl. We watched, barely moving; that was the first I had ever seen one come so close to the house. Usually, they scan the edge of the lawn, just beyond the hedge, then skedaddle quickly back into the underbrush. Shy creatures, they are. So we kept still.

He looked this way, that, this, that. Checked out that bowl from all angles. Scanned the area. And finally decided to chance it; he hopped inside and dug in. And stayed until he had eaten his fill.

A few minutes later, he was back with his mate. Less tentative, this time; both of them hogged the bowl, in turn, shooing smaller birds (a pair of fox sparrows, the juncos, a few smaller sparrows, the chickadees) away until they were done.

We didn't take photos; not and risk scaring the pair off, the first time they ventured so near. The photo here is from Wikipedia .

Googling "varied thrush", I learned that they are known to like rolled oats. So from now on, the ground feeders are going to be getting good "stick-to-your-ribs" oatmeal with their seed. (Wouldn't they like this; Molasses Maple Granola. Pumpkin seeds, nuts, fruit and blackstrap molasses. Yum!)