birding

It’s not my birthday but here’s my wish

/ Tracy Abell / 1 Comment

There are many, many things I wish would come to pass on behalf of people and planet, but I’m focusing on the personal right now. My wish is for House Wrens to nest in the neighbor’s nest box as they did last year so that I may drink up all that beautiful song* again.

July 3, 2022

Or maybe I’ll be really greedy and wish for wrens to nest at the neighbors’ AND for another pair to come stay in the nest box we hung beneath our deck. Wouldn’t that be something? 💚

*From Cornell’s All About Birds:
Both males and females sing. Males often sing 9-11 times per minute during breeding season. Songs are a long, jumbled bubbling introduced by abrupt churrs and scolds and made up of 12-16 recognizable syllables. Females sing mainly in answer to their mates shortly after pairing up; their songs can include high-pitched squeals unlike any sounds males make.

Friday Haiku + surprise

/ Tracy Abell / 5 Comments

As I often do on Fridays, I went in search of a photo to use as a haiku prompt and landed on one from a visit to the Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge in August of 2021.  This image reminded me of childhood when our mother tried to wrangle the five kids for a decent photo that was inevitably ruined by someone flashing bunny ears behind a sibling or making a face or turning away from the camera. Clearly, these cormorants couldn’t care less about me getting a good shot.

And so I wrote this haiku:

many cormorants
but majority headless
group photo challenge

Before posting it I took a closer look, zooming in on the birds nearest the center of the photo, and decided to crop the image to only show those four cormorants. And that’s when I discovered something I’d missed. Do you see it?

A skull!

Holy guacamole. This calls for a whole new haiku:

glossy birds sunbathe
pronghorn antelope keeps watch
sprinting days over

Please join in the fun and comment with your own haiku for this photo!

Twofer Tuesday: feathered intrigue

/ Tracy Abell

Not a high-quality photo, but there’s some drama and intrigue here:

Barr Lake State Park April 8, 2021

I get the sense these two are working hard at ignoring each other because they’re already acquainted. Like, maybe they’ve had prior run-ins and now carry grudges. Or maybe they’ve never met, but that pelican with the stabby, knobby bill scares the bejesus out of the cormorant and beneath the surface it’s paddling like mad to get away.

Maybe they’re both new in town and too shy to strike up a friendship. Or maybe that cormorant’s haughty tilt of the beak is designed to keep other birds at a distance.

Maybe it’s really a well-choreographed water ballet that’s supposed to make us think these two dancers are on a collision course when really they end up executing an elegant near-miss.

More likely, the photo is just a fun little image from two years ago that makes me nostalgic for that day.

Standing at the edge

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

Things can fall apart, or threaten to, for many reasons, and then there’s got to be a leap of faith. Ultimately, when you’re at the edge, you have to go forward or backward; if you go forward, you have to jump together. ~ Yo-Yo Ma

Okay, mourning dove.
It’s just you and me.
One . . . two . . .  three . . . JUMP!

I receive this melodious gift

/ Tracy Abell / 11 Comments

Just ran out on the trails for the first time in a couple weeks. I don’t usually go out there on the weekends because it’s more crowded than during the week but I’ve missed the open space, so off I went. And my fears were correct: there were quite a few people and dogs out there. However, someone I’m always happy to share that space with was also there:

Wikimedia Commons: Photo by Rick Bohn

My first Western Meadowlark of the season! As I chugged up the slog, my ears were suddenly filled with liquid song and for a split second, I couldn’t remember what I was hearing. And then my brain processed the sound and I grinned. When I reached the top/turnaround point, I did some stretches as the meadowlark sang its little heart out. I finally spotted it up on the ridge, atop a yucca plant, and called out, “Thank you! I receive the gift of your song!”

And then I ran back down the trail. Oh, happy day.

Twofer Tuesday: towhee edition

/ Tracy Abell / 9 Comments

I love me some Spotted Towhees which frequently hang out in our backyard. We often hear them scrabbling through the mulch and leaves as they jump forward and scratch backward with both feet, and over the last two summers they nested in the yard which meant we also got to hear the juveniles making their raspy cries for their parents. Spotted Towhees have a high entertainment value.

These images were taken within days of each other last October and might possibly be the same bird. The only thing I know for sure is that they are not-great images!  But what better way to celebrate Twofer Tuesday than with two poor photos of the same subject?

This first one is woefully out of focus but we still get the the slightly punk rock attitude with those ruffled head feathers and red eye.

The second photo gives us a lovely view of the towhee’s back along with a glimpse of its underside. You know, to help with identification. HA. Mostly, it’s a nice shot of our deteriorating timbers and weed-choked pavers.

My mother-in-law once told Zippy that Spotted Towhees were her favorite bird (but then thanks to her memory issues, she promptly forgot that statement.) No matter, I remember and every time I see one, I think of Alice. Sweet-sweet-teeeeaaa.

No more mourning

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

For the past couple months, I’ve been struggling with my new middle grade project idea, trying to land on the “correct” tone and approach. I’ve written a bunch of scenes, but knew I was missing the mark. Today in desperation, I turned to the google and asked a convoluted question about how to write a first draft when wandering around in the dark inside your head, clueless about how to find the right approach to the story. And this came up!

None of this approach is new to me, but the way J. Elle framed the info resonated, plus the timing was just right. This afternoon, I was in the right head space to take in the info and think about my project in these terms. I now have a short pitch and tent pole moments, although those may still change. I’m mostly just excited to have a solid-ish foundation upon which to build. No matter what happens next, I feel as if I’m moving in the right direction.

Mourning Dove. July 20, 2022

No more sad, mopey mourning for me. This project is finally on its way and for that, I am grateful.

Thankful Thursday: mystery solved

/ Tracy Abell / 17 Comments

Yesterday I glanced out the window and saw a flock of birds in the distance. I grabbed the binoculars and watched as they descended into two treetops. Despite the added magnification, I couldn’t see well enough to identify them. But I kept watching them, hoping the image would miraculously sharpen. Alas, no miracles. However, at one point I thought I saw a little crest. Soon, the flock took off and I watched it wheel across the sky as the birds synchronized their movements. Tears filled my eyes as the mass of birds “shimmered” while it swooped low over the foothills and out of sight.

Later, I described the beautiful sighting to Zippy. I was so sad not to have identified the birds, but when I mentioned thinking I’d seen a crest when watching as they perched in the tree he suggested maybe they were waxwings. A ping went off in my head as I replied, “Maybe.”

Fast forward to this afternoon when I went for a run. Halfway up our street, I heard a commotion in trees on either side of the street. I stopped to observe and, sure enough, the birds had crests. Cedar Waxwings!

Image by Jack Bulmer from Pixabay

Probably about fifty of them, flying back and forth between those two trees (one of which was covered in berries). Some were on the pavement, drinking puddled water from the melted snowbanks. A glorious sight and sound!

Image by Debra Foster from Pixabay

I got to see/hear them several times as I ran back and forth on that sunny stretch of street (it was cold with 20 mph winds!) and then they were gone. It was such a gift. I don’t think I’ve seen a waxwing since we lived in Anchorage and would see them (Bohemian Waxwings) flying drunk on fermented mountain ash berries, and I’m extremely grateful for the timing of my run. If I’d procrastinated going out into the cold and wind, I would’ve missed them.

All gratitude to those beautiful, social birds!

The more things change

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

I enjoy looking at photos from the same date in earlier years, just to see what I was about to at the time. Apparently, I’m very much a creature of habit.

Here’s what I was thinking about and photographing exactly one year ago today:

And here’s my photographic muse on January 21, 2020:

Clearly, I’ve got robins on the brain. And what about January 21, 2021? Well, I didn’t take any photos that day. However, tomorrow it’ll be exactly two years since I photographed this Cooper’s Hawk which, by the way, is staring quite intently in the direction of the bird bath.

How about you . . . do you check out your photos from earlier years? And if so, do you have a more diverse repertoire than me?

Mourning Dove at rest

/ Tracy Abell / 3 Comments

The simplicity of winter has a deep moral. The return of nature, after such a career of splendor and prodigality, to habits so simple and austere, is not lost upon either the head or the heart. It is the philosopher coming back from the banquet and the wine to a cup of water and a crust of bread. ~ John Burroughs

Conjuring warm memories

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

It’s bitterly cold today and uppermost in my mind is that I’m exceedingly grateful for my warm home. We had to take our dog to the vet this morning and it was a slow fourteen mile drive. Many were equally cautious but, of course, there were those who treated the snowy-icy streets as their personal speedway. We had to detour on the way home to pick up something and by the time I was at the red light at the top of our exit ramp, I was looking forward to being off the road.

WHAM!

Rear-ended by someone who’d missed the memo that the streets were freaking slippery. The good news is there was no damage to the car (except the impact knocked the muffler tape loose and now our old Subaru is REALLY loud again). The bad news? The collision triggered my PTSD and I was weepy and shaky for a bit, not to mention suddenly feeling so much anger toward people. The unmasked and the fast drivers, aka the people who don’t seem to give a damn about anyone else’s health and well-being. Part of the issue is that I’ve been rear-ended a bunch of times over the years and I’m really, really sick of it.

But again, uppermost in my mind today as the temperatures dipped well below zero is that I’m exceedingly grateful for my warm home. In that spirit, here’s a beautiful Mourning Dove I photographed at the Chatfield Audubon Center last May. A much more soothing image than the puffed-out birds hunkered down in the trees today.

Peace until all of us.

Two magpies

/ Tracy Abell / 10 Comments

Two magpies flew in front of me as I ran on the streets this afternoon, providing a much-needed boost as my energy lagged. I called out to them, “Hello, magpies! I receive the gift of your beauty!”

Of course, I didn’t have a camera with me so here are two that visited my backyard almost exactly one year ago. The bird on the fence had just finished bathing and my photo session shows a continuous stream of magpies performing their ablutions.

December 19, 2021

I feel incredibly fortunate to see magpies on a daily basis. They’re stunning birds that never fail to bring a smile.

Kinship

/ Tracy Abell / 5 Comments

This Acorn Woodpecker, photographed at Cave Creek Canyon Ranch in May of 2019, is going after the suet with a laser focus. 

I can relate. These last few days, I’ve been food-obsessed. Yes, some of that’s been mindless eating and/or eating my emotions as we careen through multiple planetary crises. I’m like a bear fattening up for the winter . . . hungry all the time. Not for suet, though. Yech.

Dark too early

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

Each time the sun disappears behind the foothills it feels like a door slamming shut, locking me in a dark dungeon of despair. I mean, five o’clock and it’s pitch black outside? As G.O.B. would say on Arrested Development, “Come on!” But as a friend reminded me, we’ll start gaining daylight on December 22nd. I just have to hang in there until then.

I searched Pixabay for a night image that would convey my misery and happened upon this delightful Eurasian Pygmy Owl.

Image by Erik Karits from Pixabay

I’m going to try to reframe my outlook and think about this time of day being good for owls. It makes me slightly less grumpy to think about them out there in the dark, stalking and killing unsuspecting prey. At least someone’s enjoying themselves.

Don’t forget the joy

/ Tracy Abell

Always leave enough time in your life to do something that makes you happy, satisfied, even joyous. That has more of an effect on economic well-being than any other single factor. ~ Paul Hawken

Raven. March 13, 2022

Twofer Tuesday: Gray Jay edition

/ Tracy Abell

One of the friendliest bird species out there, here are two Gray Jays at our campsite in Mueller State Park. I know they have a reputation as “camp robbers,” but I enjoyed their presence and was glad whenever I had another sighting or heard them making their assortment of sounds off in a tree somewhere.

October 19, 2022

While running on the trails one morning, I nearly had to come to a full stop to avoid running over a jay in the middle of the trail. Not even my 9,000-feet-elevation huffing and puffing could scare it away.

A friendly and self-assured species, those Gray Jays.

Twofer Tuesday: nuthatch edition

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

Last week I spotted a White-breasted Nuthatch at the feeder and snapped two quick photos. All I got was a blurred image followed by an empty feeder tray. As I peered out the window, trying to locate the nuthatch again, it hopped up onto the window sill right in front of me. My subject was just inches away! Once again, it moved too quickly for me to photograph, disappearing as quickly as it’d appeared.

But then the nuthatch took pity on me and posed on the rail with a safflower seed in its beak.

September 8, 2022

And it even gave me a profile shot.

Such a thoughtful feathered friend.