Delightful Spring

Oh, what a delightful migration we've had. We've been busy, but have been home more than any May in memory. So I've had time to plant and weed and mulch and till and mow--all the things that somehow have to be added into the mix come spring. That makes me a much happier camper than when we run all over the country working festivals. I'm beginning to see what I should be doing less, what I should be doing more.


Going out to photograph birds with Bill in the morning is just about my favorite thing. We don't forget for a second how blessed we are that we can do this right outside our house, on this sanctuary we've made. Little visitors pass through and we try to capture their images, to show you these things we cherish. It isn't easy. Ask Bill of the Birds.


Pine siskins have finally left as of today. I wouldn't be too surprised to find them nesting around here, as they're nomadic little things, subject to whim. They share the Spa with a tired Gouty, the bluebird who's feeding four fledged daughters.


A red-bellied woodpecker has chosen the gutter over Phoebe's window for a drumming site.

He looks proud of himself at the end of each BRRUUUUUUMMMMPPP! Luckily, he drums after she's off to school, but she's not going to like it very much come summer vacation. These shots were taken from the birding tower, a perspective we don't often get on woodpeckers.


Discoveries await everywhere I turn. I heard a gnatcatcher's purr, looked up, saw this shredded bark and mused, "Ahh, nesting time. Everyone's gathering nesting material."
And there was the gnatcatcher, so I watched him until he led me to his nest.

It's done, and he plops right into it to incubate the eggs. See his tail sticking up like a popsicle stick?

Here's a closer look. Of all the birds that nest here, the blue-gray gnatcatcher reveals its nest the most readily. It's almost as if they're proud of it, the way they carry on and show it to you.
It's been the best spring for Blackburnian warblers that I can remember. That doesn't mean I've gotten stunning shots, but I keep trying.

Soon, the migrants will be gone altogether, but for now we seek them out and enjoy them while we can.

I've spent the day painting a beach scene with Caspian terns. I have to stretch way back in my memory to get the feel of the beach, but it's coming together nicely. The trick being not to get too tense and tight. Gotta let paint be paint. I've also been on the phone with Customer Service at Uncle Milton's, the manufacturer of the Pet's Eye View camera Chet used until it finked out on us. I gave them my blog URL, which is being passed around their HQ as we speak, and have high hopes they'll see the eminent sense of replacing this wondrous but broken little thing. I've gotten only four sessions out of it and am hungry for more. I keep seeing golden opportunities to send Chet Baker on photo safari.

Heady May

Oh, there's just too much to do, and the weather is too beautiful. I'm letting myself garden, and even buy a few plants for the border. I realized I was all out of delphiniums, which are short-lived perennials, so I've bought four and am hoping they're sky blue. I made hanging baskets and planters all day today with the plants from the greenhouse. Ahhhhh. The sun shone and the birds sang and I got real dirty. When I heard a good bird I lit out after it with the long lens.

This picture may not look like much, but I'm thrilled with it, because it shows a foraging behavior characteristic of blue-winged warblers. They insert the closed bill into an insect-damaged leaf cluster--often a webby one--and open it, prying it apart to find treasure inside. I've watched them do this but never thought I'd get a photo of it! Note how the bird has keyed in to the insect -damaged leaves. When they hop through the branches they're scrutinizing each leaf for chew holes left by caterpillars, and webbed-together leaves that might hide food. They're doing so much that we don't even realize or appreciate. Watching quietly opens it all to me.

While I take photos or garden, Chet Baker keeps me company through it all. Such a pretty boy, with his brindle coat and little cat paws.

The blue-grey gnatcatcher nest in our driveway is occupado. Such vocal little birds; they can't help singing even while incubating! How perfect they are, how perfect their nests.

I took this picture when the cardinal was brooding her young. They fledged yesterday, and they're peeping incessantly in the thicket behind the garage. Hooray! That's how fast May goes--like lightning. I'm so happy she got a brood out before the snakes got to them. It's a race in May, a race to procreate before the predators wake up.

On Mother's Day, Baker helped me shoot some crappy redstart pictures. He watched intently as I focused on the tiny bird flitting over my head in the ash tree. A pair of towhees started scratching in the litter just inside the thicket. Baker's ears perked and he listened, considering whether to give chase.

He glanced up at me as a child would, looking for guidance. "Those are towhees, Baker. Just birds. Mother's birds." And that angelic little dog relaxed and sat down, content to listen, not chase.Yes, Mether. I know a towhee when I hear one. If that was a chiptymunk, I would chase it, just so you know.

It's a grab bag, this post, but then so is May. Everything happens in May.

Jane, this one's for you. Welcome home!! and thanks again for the best doggie in the whole universe.

If a Gnatcatcher Can...

Grazin' in the grass is a gas
Baby can you dig it

These days, so long awaited. Four days in which I have allowed myself nothing to do but plow, till, plant and weed. Go out first thing in the morning after putting the kids on the bus, and try to get a few bird pictures. Sometimes I'm lucky. I watched this female blue-grey gnatcatcher foraging, or perhaps gathering nesting material. I couldn't see what she was picking up, but she was scraping the stems of staghorn sumac, perhaps for the ultra-fine fuzz she'd use to line her neat little lichen-decorated tennis ball of a nest. Like most nest-building gnatcatchers, she was loudly announcing her activities with sputtering squeaks and elfin whistles. I love how the sumac twigs form a little chuppah over her, adding a ceremonial touch to the proceedings.She was not in the least perturbed by my presence, going about her business like Miss Tittlemouse, cussing and twitching and fussing. See how she has the barest line of black above her eye? Along comes her mate, guarding and overseeing. He's bluer, and has a black superciliary line. Magnificent!
As I watched these equisite creatures, it seemed to me that the male's bill looked a bit odd. Too fine and sharp. It wasn't until I blew the pictures up that I could see that the male's upper bill (maxilla) is broken off halfway out its length. What a handicap that would be to a bird that makes its living capturing small insects! I don't know how he gets by, but he's able to hold a territory and a mate, sing her love songs
and do a deep bow, to show her his beautiful blue crown. See that oddly attenuated mandible? That's because the maxilla is missing. I don't know how he's surviving, but he's figured something out that works for him. If the bone isn't broken, the rhamphotheca (keratinaceous covering of the bill) should grow back in time. I'll be watching for him, and hoping for him. He may have trouble feeding his babies. I hope Miss Tittlemouse is up for the extra work.

If a gnatcatcher can carry on with a disability like that, and still sing, well, then there's no reason to drag my feet. Yesterday, I dug out all the bindweed and grass from the vegetable garden, mowed the lawn, and did four loads of laundry. Today, I'm still doing laundry, and I've rototilled the whole garden (except for the peas and mesclun!) twice over. I loooove my little Honda rototiller. It starts the first time even after a whole winter, it purrs and whirs and gives me nice even soil like cake crumbs. I'm soaking three rows each of Fordhook limas and my homemade tricolor bean mix (Tendergreen, Brittle Wax and Royal Burgundy) to plant this evening. I'll put in another row of mesclun for when the stuff we're just now harvesting is done, and mulch the rest of the garden so I won't have to till again. May even put out the early tomatoes I started. I think the cold is gone for good. I can tell you that this kind of activity takes care of winter flubber really fast. I'm a lean, mean rototillin' machine. On to the flower beds, which need to be recovered. There are perennials in there, behind all the grass and dandelions! Maybe I can even get the greenhouse emptied out today. World enough and time, that's all I need. I'm thankful to have a sound body and sun on my shoulders, and I'm fully aware of how lucky I am to have a bit of ground to till. I treasure every moment, and I see Phoebe and Liam grazing in the snap peas in my mind's eye as I work to make that happen.

My good hoe, as it bites the ground, revenges my wrongs, and I have less lust to bite my enemies. In smoothing the rough hillocks, I smooth my temper.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson