Headache

Here she comes again with that camera...

OMG...she gives me SUCH a headache.

The Big Maw

Does not this photo above look as though some prehistoric animal is crying in pain?  Granny Annie  gave me the theme for this post and I have thought her exact thought many times as I stare from my bedroom window and see this fallen tulip poplar that fell two years ago.  Had it fallen toward my house it would have damaged the roof.   She is right.

Bones in the Graveyard

Just the smallest of powder dusting.  That is the extent of the white winter we have received as we enter this February 2012.  It is as if winter spilled a cup of flour on her way rushing who knows where.


This "new-time" winter has been bittersweet in its gifts.  I love the warmer air and the crystal sound of the birds in the morning.  I love sitting on my deck and smelling the unusual warmth of plants and new earth that are rising from their too short nap.  Temperatures are in the 50's and 60's, breathtakingly uncommon for early February.  

Even as I love the warmer air kisses on my shoulders and the sweeter songs filling my ears, it also comes with the sound of wood cutters.  I fear for what this really means for the planet.  Is Mother Earth going through her hot flashes as she comes to the end of her life?  Is this change happening too fast as the scientists indicate such that plants and animals cannot keep ahead of the game of changing climate?  Are my trees dying because they do not have a long enough winter rest?  Are they dying because of the increase in stronger storms and heavier rains in the summer?  Are they dying because of the increase in disease and insects that survive these milder winters?  

Or are the trees dying because it is naturally their time and I am just being too dramatic about the changes to the beauty that surrounds me?  Maybe this love affair is just naturally coming to an end and earth is awaiting a re-birth.  That is what I can certainly hope.   This 'widowmaker' in the photo above leaning precariously and over 100 feet high and reaching her long arms across the path to the dock tore free from the earth's tether just fifteen minutes after my husband passed to meet with dock repairmen.  She did not even scream in pain as the ribbons of her years of life were revealed.
Oddly enough a verse from Paul Simon rings in my head.

"Don't want to end up a cartoon
In a cartoon graveyard
Bone digger, bone digger
Dogs in the moonlight"  Paul Simon

Looking at You

I have been good about staying off my feet as much as possible but getting a terrible case of cabin fever.  Thus I am spending more time at the computer with my files of photos.  This little chickadee comes regularly along with his 'mates' to the water dish and the suet feeder.  I took this photo of him hanging off the feeder and then photo-shopped it (somewhat badly as an expert can tell certainly tell you) so that it looked more "natural."  Although I have seen them in the cedar trees, I do not think they eat cedar berries as this photo might falsely indicate.

Masked Men

About 75 of these cedar waxwings flew into my backyard the other day.  They were intrigued at what all the other birds were doing at the feeders, but did not join them.  Sometimes they come into the water dish and I was hoping they would so that I could take a closer photo.  I fiddled with this photo above since it was taken through the window and has a misty feel to it a a result..you know, that double "pained" look. (Click image for closer view.)  Maybe it can be my new banner for this blog?

Maybe some of my readers remember the drama with Zorro a few years ago.  If not you can go here and here and if you need a conclusion to the drama you can click here.

Size Does Matter

Things one learns if one watches birds long enough, and clearly that is mostly what I do!

Click on photos if you want a closer view.

You Can Make Anywhere More Beautiful

Pothole Gardens

Eulogy

I could say that I recognized you when you were stately and towering.  I could say that I remember your gracious shade and the time a hawk rested regally within your embrace.  I might suggest that the song of the wind was most especially lovely when it played on your leaves, and the late sun’s caress painted your bark with more loving care than it caressed all the others.  I could say that your proud carriage was the standard for all the others in my woods.  But this praise would be more charitable than true, because I rushed past you most days and forgot you were there.  You were so far away and my world was so close to the ground.  You were hidden by two holly trees that sheltered the birds that I fed each winter, and you grew on the edge of the hillside just as it fell away into the weedy and thorny woods.  All that camouflage allowed me to forget you.

Last fall you exhaled with a deep and stunning sigh, and your collapse to the earth, as you leaned for the first and last time, shook my heart.  It was in the dark of night that you tossed your final good-bye.  I was frightened by the seriousness of your death, and even though I could see nothing through the scream of the dark night wind, I knew a hundred years had passed in that moment.

There is more space for the sun to play upon the ground these days.  But even so, the sun caresses the shadows of your trunk as it makes its passage down the river toward the night.  In some strange way you may be lovelier in death.  You lie languorous and liquid as if you were part of some gray river reaching on an unconcerned journey to nowhere.

Ouch!

This little fellow presented an opportunity for such a closeup with my camera because he was a bit stunned by a hawk that had spotted him. He flew into one of our windows trying to escape and landed on the deck.  The day was very warm, so we did not try to pick him up and shelter him.  We were waiting patiently for a rebound.  The hawk had flown on and this little bird was safe, and after about 10 minutes he flew away into the trees.

This photo above is the same bird taken just a little earlier before the attack.  This is a red house finch and not native to the East Coast where I live.  His ancestors were introduced from the west coast of the United States through a release of just a few on Long Island, New York, by some bird sellers that could not get them sold back in the 1940s.  As a species they have done very well, as they can be seen almost anywhere.  Cornell says there may be up to 1.4 billion birds of this species in North America!  The male is the brightly colored one and some are more red or yellow than others depending on what they eat.  I have seen some that are far more stunning than this one.

The female red house finch above is not so fancy in color as her mate.  They usually come to the water bowl at the same time.  They love seeds and clean me out each winter.

How to Catch a Bird

Put a little salt on his tail...

...or on the top of his head?

"What YOU looking at?  Got a problem?"

Yes, we finally got a little snow.

One Word

That time of year again when the birds actually get irritated enough to tap on my rain spouts to remind me to feed them.  I decided to try a little one word exercise for this first batch I have photographed since I have little to say or write these days.

Pretentious

Precious

Pleasing

Perky

Crow Haiku (?)

Two crows in best black

Sharing a secret this year

About you and me.

Peace!

Dormancy

Photographers have to to work for their desires during the winter months.  We do not have the dramatic whites of snows nor the scary crystals of ice storms here, I write somewhat thankfully.  We do have many gray and cold days where the sun peaks through clouds only briefly and usually just before sunset to remind us that is it still there, behind the silver cold waiting for warmer weather to join us.  As I left the driveway in exploration of something new to add to my files I saw one of our many damaged maples struggling to pretend winter was not upon us in full force.  Its entire top had been broken away and while it stood headless it still was alive.

I drove to a new agricultural area and as I came over the crest of a hill I saw the scene below in the distance.

This is a dormant peach orchard, and being a photographer, I was also salivating at how lovely it would be to photograph in the spring.  Nearby were other ornamentals that the farmer grew for others yards and that were more beautiful this time of year than other season.

There is beauty in the grays and silvers and sages, but my eye always goes to the energy filled reds.

The Harsher Times

Winter is a harsh time of year for both man and beast.  It pretends that its soft white snows blanket with peace, but if you look closely their is red blood on that white cover.  While we do not yet have snow, there is a red tailed hawk that has kept our mouse and mole population down around the compost pile.  We also have a large mulch pile of wood chips from the tree fall that will probably house a bunch of rodents this winter!   The hawks are busy.  The one below managed to swallow the little rodent he had in two gulps before flying away.

We have an abundance of deer this year (every year) and we have a hunter neighbor who is an archer.  He eats whatever he shoots.  If you are vegan, the image of deer wasting disease may be more to your tastes.  I feel at peace with hunters and fishermen that control the excess.  He now sits high in a tree at the front of our land waiting for a good target. 


We have four young deer...maybe a year or even two in age, that come through the bracken and munch not so quietly each day.  This is hunting season and they are wary, and as I stand on my deck and try to see them in the deep brush, I can see and ear or eye angled my way if I clear my throat.  We also have a large doe who rests against the bank of our ravine on the opposite side of the house.  She rests in the company of a large 6 point buck who is most impressive in stance.  I have tried to get photos of him, but without success.

You may wonder if I eat venison.  I do.  I think it might be healthier than the hormone treated and corn fed beef available in my store.  I know the deer have happier lives than many feed-lot steers.  

Competition

This time of year there seems to be competition for attention.  My geraniums have actually survived the cold freeze as they are tucked against the foundation and beneath the deck.  They will not survive the winter, but I did save one plant for my sunny windowsill.

The holly berries are in abundance this year and not to be outdone by one little geranium blossom!  They compel man and bird alike to pause and enjoy.  Food is provided for both the stomach and the soul.

But when I tire of the cold and bitter air I come inside and find that something else is competing for my gaze during this season.  Yes, it is artificial and has too much glitter, but it is here for such a short time and does manage to keep the house a little warmer.

Planting Trees in the Forest

We planted a tree like this one, this past spring. Ours is still too young to produce young, but it is turning a lovely shade of pink rust as the winter sets in. This is a bald cypress. Such an odd name for such a symmetrical and lovely tree. It would make a perfect Christmas tree but it drops all its needles in the winter and thus, was given the name "bald" because of that.   It can grow up to 70 feet tall and grows well in swamps. But it also does a good job in our front yard which is high and dry.  Because our tree's feet are on dry land we will not get that distinct round bowl at the base that it produces when sitting in water nor the bumps of the roots seeking better stabilization which are called cypress knees that can be found sticking out of the water in swamps.

According to wikipedia "The tallest known individual specimen, near Williamsburg, Virginia, is 44.11 m tall, and the stoutest known, in the Cat Island National Wildlife Refuge near Baton Rouge, Louisiana, has a diameter of 521 cm.  The oldest known specimen, located in Bladen County, North Carolina, is over 1,620 years old making this the oldest living plant in Eastern North America."  Quite an impressive tree, is it not?

Our little tree was bought at the garden club sale and currently stands only three feet high, but every tree has to start somewhere.

Tiny Swimmer

I could not wait for the light to get bright enough so that I could make my way down to the dock and personally greet the still morning.  Sitting in the house and hearing the heater kick on and off was not soothing to my soul.  The fog was extra heavy as it hung close to both edges of the river denying the sun its pink light as it does most mornings this time of year.  Birds were singing as if it was spring even though the temperatures hung in the low 30's F.  Since there was no wind, it was very comfortable.


I had on my heavy dark gray down coat covering my Jennifer Lo animal print flannel PJs.  Thus I looked much like a tree trunk as I carefully navigated the path toward the dock.  I had to really pace myself when I learned that the dock was covered with slippery frost hidden from the eye.


Our resident bald eagle flew high over this section of the river on his way to better waters for the morning meal, and, although I remained still as the water watching him, I could swear he spotted me as he glanced down my way.  He seemed to "eagle eye" me with a tilt of the head, shocked at my wardrobe.


I didn't take many photos but just watched the morning stretch and open its way into the world.  Eventually, off to my right, I saw a small dot swimming toward me.  

The swimmer was steady and focused, and of course, I had the wrong lense!  I was hoping to capture the big picture.  As it finally cruised closer I recognize that it was a gentle bufflehead duck, our smallest diving duck.  Because of the fog, I could not see the green and purple gloss of the head, but the white patch was a distinctive identifying mark.

These birds are extremely wary and impossible to photograph without a telephoto lens, but this diver did not notice I was human and came just close enough for this grainy photo with my regular lens.  I did look a little like a fatter version of one of the dock pilings, and thus he was fooled.  He scooted past onto the next dock where he spent several minutes diving and flapping in the smooth waters eating something just beneath my neighbors boat lift. 


I eventually tired of standing so still and as I moved slowly back up the dock toward coffee, he immediately recognized my movement and headed out and away beyond sight.

More on My Visitor

I did some research on the Yellow-bellied sapsucker because of a comment or two to my post.  These birds are only temporary in my neighborhood as this is the upper range for their winter home.   The females fly all the way to Central America for the winter months. They breed mostly up north and in the woods of Canada, so I will never see a nesting pair.  This siting in my yard was rare.
They are essential to other birds such as humming birds and some mammals with the sap they get the trees to release.  Many species benefit from the sweet sap and humming birds would not be able to stay in the woods of Canada without the sapsucker since there are few flowers for them to use.  Sapsuckers also eat the insects that come to the sap holes and include berries in their diet.

In the spring the male may use traffic signs or other metal for tapping to declare his territory.  The males are the better parent, selecting the site early and creating the nest.  They also incubate the eggs in the evening and if one of the parents meet with death, the male is the most likely to be successful in raising the birds on his own.  Fascinating stuff.

A New Visitor

One of the things that I do when I am trying to ignore chores is stare out windows. I couple this with the Cornell Feederwatch Project and it makes me feel like I am wasting less time.  Today I saw this visitor in my front yard eating bugs and perhaps berries off the holly tree.  (Our hollies are prolific with berries this year.  I am hoping this does not mean a long hard winter.)  I have not seen this bird in my yard and rarely see it elsewhere, so I was truly excited and want to share. Photo taken through a double paned window...so not a crisp or great shot, but the species is recognizable...yellow-bellied sapsucker.