The Good-bye Chronicles Chapter 3: Waiting

Desert Spiny Lizard 7-6-10 My Backyard

July 6, 2010

This day has started with golden sunshine streaming through my bedroom window as Gus heads off to work. Perhaps today we will know more. Perhaps today the waiting will end.

Pyrrhuloxia 7-5-10 My Yard

I get up and start my morning routine of feeding pets and counting birds. I smile as I see a fat collared lizard doing its warming push-ups on the block wall in the bright morning sun. I have plenty of things to do today while I wait. As usual, there are bird feeders to fill and plants to water. I watch a small rabbit nibble on the seed block. I count the birds out my windows. I look at each species differently now and realize that these will not be my backyard birds anymore if we move away. There are no Canyon Towhees in New England. I will not see Pyrrhuloxias or Cactus Wrens there. I do not take these birds for granted here, but I have relaxed with them and count on seeing them everyday. If one species does not show up I notice. I have become accustom to the rhythms of their life here in Sycamore Canyon. It has become my rhythm. Will I carry this song with me if we leave?

In the afternoon I visit my friend, Sherri. Her yard looks out over a larger green space than mine. The mesquite trees and Palo Verdes create a dense light green canopy over the desert. I can see a few birds here and there as they fly over the wash and across this ribbon of green. A male cardinal pops up to sing from a branch, its color a bright red spot in all that feathery green. The desert is full of doves, both mourning and white-winged. In the heat of the day they seek refuge in shade and do not move about so much. They, too, are waiting, but they wait for rain.

House finches 7-14-10 My yard

This day passes slowly. The heat drives me inside. There is no word today. All I can do is wait.

Chapter 3 of The Good-bye Chronicles

Skywatch Friday: Finch Palm Sky

House Finch in a Date Palm at Agua Caliente Park, Tucson AZ 11-19-08

Photo by Kathie Nikon D80, 70-300mm lens, sports mode, 1/500 sec-F 5.6

(Click to enlarge)

Click on the button to Visit Skywatch Friday

Well, it's Too Darned Hot! (but the birds are still here)

With temperatures reaching 104 by 9:30 a.m. MST I am not venturing too far from home these days. The summer heat for me is what winter cold was like living in the north. It is the time of year to stay home, do indoor projects, or curl up in the air conditioning and watch a movie. The birds are drinking water faster than I can fill the dishes, but still they come for seed and peanuts. I have discovered that they are occasionally salad feeders and my verbena and petunias have fallen victim to their foraging. One day I had flowers, then next day stubble! On Friday night around 6:30 p.m. a flock of house finches flew into the yard and started grazing on this weed I allowed to grow beneath my newly planted Palo Verde tree. I figured the leaves would help shade the roots and keep the tree a tiny bit cooler. I had no idea I was providing a salad bar! The shadow from the house had fallen across the tree and the little house finches are perfectly camouflaged beneath it. Look closely and see how many you can find.

Photo taken 6-13-08 by Kathiesbirds

Another well camouflaged bird in Sycamore Canyon is the Canyon Towhee. Canyon towhees are one of the scruffiest non-descript birds I have ever seen. When I saw my first one here last year I thought it was a cross between a House Finch and a Curved-billed Thrasher. It wasn’t until I looked it up that I learned what it really was. On Saturday morning Gus and I took a walk in the canyon and this bird flew out from the bank and landed on a rock in the middle of the wash in front of us. Can you see it?

Photo taken by Gus 6-14-08 around 7:30 a.m. MST

We stood frozen and watched as it proceeded to walk the rest of the way across the gravel canyon bottom. Its bedraggled appearance coupled with its dirt-colored feathers provides perfect camouflage as it crosses this wide expanse. It must have walked at least 15 feet pausing every few steps to look around before continuing onward. Whenever it stood still, it looked like a stone. Once it reached the opposite bank, it disappeared into the brush.

Canyon Towhee Photo taken by Gus 6-14-08 Cropped and enlarged.

On Saturday as the sun was setting in the west, these two flickers and a Gambel’s Quail came for their evening meal. In the golden light of the setting sun, they lined up like a perfect birdie totem pole, so I grabbed the camera and snapped away!

Photo by Kathiesbirds 6-14-08

We have our own bird tribe here in Sycamore Canyon!

Gambel's Quail Tribal Mask 8x10 Acrylic on Canvas Copyright 2008 by Kathiesbirds

The Great backyard Bird Count Begins (or, Look Who's Coming to Dinner!)

It’s the first morning of the Great Backyard Bird Count and I am recovering from the flu. I still feel awful but I was up with the dawn to start counting birds. I would say I was up with the sun, but today it is raining here and sometimes it is mixed with snow! All the birds look bedraggled and they are seeking shelter wherever they can get it. A house finch is riding the ceiling fan like a merry-go-round, but at least it is dry!

A female hummingbird has chosen my ballerina sculpture as her refuge.

One poor mourning dove just braces itself against the downpour.

But when I first opened the shutters this morning look what I found feeding from the quailblock! This jackrabbit forgot it’s suppose to wear feathers to dinner!

The Society of Birds

I thought with the cold weather the crickets would disappear, but they are still here, though smaller and more sluggish. Still, when night falls they come in towards the heat around the unsealed trim boards by the front door. We are planning on contacting our builder to come fix that defect, but for now we crunch crickets at night. Gus has wanted to spray, but I refuse to let him. All we need to do is seal up the house and they won’t gain entry, and I refuse to have chemicals in my yard because of the birds.

For the past week we have had a roadrunner hunting in and around our yard. Last Saturday we came home from errands to find him perched on the block wall in the back yard. This was the first time I had actually seen one in my yard, though I have seen them more recently in and around the neighborhood. To my surprise and delight he jumped down into the yard and proceeded to hunt bugs. With the eye of a predator he watched, lowering his head and tail in typical roadrunner hunting posture. Upon spying an insect he would pounce! Then I’d see him gobble the morsel, raise his head, crest and tail, then scurry off hunched over to another corner again. We watched him for 10 minutes or more before he hopped back over the fence to hunt another territory.

The roadrunner is not my only insect hunter, however. A cactus wren has been hopping about the yard and in and around my patio looking for bugs. This one must be a young one for he has a stumpy tail. It’s like a miniature version of a real cactus wren tail. The bird is also puffed up to a round ball and does not have the typical sleek profile of a cactus wren. It is, however a cactus wren with the long curved bill, the white eye line and the speckled breast over a dark breast patch. I like to watch this plump little fellow hop about the yard in search of breakfast.

Even more delightful are the Gila woodpeckers. This morning five of them flew into the yard to peck at my peanut feeder and eat suet. With this cooler weather they are going through a suet cake every other day. As I watched from my dining area I observed a Gila woodpecker fly to one of the block posts that supports the block wall every 8 feet or so. It grasped the block with its vice-like clawed feet at the top of one block, then proceeded to shimmy down the post looking for insects behind it. Every now and then I would see it probe behind the post with its beak and then the swallowing motion as the insect disappeared down its throat. I swear it was swallowing crickets! Good bird! I’d rather have birds be my exterminators, than a person with a can of chemicals to poison my ground and air. With five or more Gila woodpeckers, cactus wrens and thrashers, and every now and then a road runner, I think I am in good shape.

The birds are such a delight to watch with their amusing antics and their variety of color, shape, and form. Still, one of the hazards of bird watching is window strikes. Anyone who loves birds and feeds the birds hates this by product of watching them. The birds see the outdoors reflected in the windows and try to fly into the scenery only to strike the windows and, either knock themselves unconscious, or fall down dead. I have taken steps to avoid this happening as much as possible but last night as the sun was setting in the west it shone through the transect window over the front door. My hallway is like a rifle barrel to the living room and straight beyond that is the picture window to the backyard patio. Gus and I were in the den talking when we heard the thump! I got up from my chair dreading what I would find.

Sure enough, a male house finch lay on his back on the cold cement. His little feet stuck into the air with clenched feet. For all appearances he was dead, but I had to find out, for if he was still alive, that cold patio would suck the life out of him. Cautiously I went out the door and picked the poor thing up. He was still alive and his eyes fluttered at my touch, but he did not struggle. I cupped him loosely in my hands and sat in a chair lending him the warmth of my own body. Then I sat there and prayed he would live and willed my life into his being. Gus watched from inside the house through the picture window.

The bird sat peacefully in my crossed palms. I watched him breath in and out with shallow breaths. I could feel its tiny claws in the center of my palm. I marveled at the delicate feathers and cursed my aging eyes which can’t see details as well. The bird suddenly extended a wing simultaneously rolling its head and closing its eyes. I breathed in sharply and prayed don’t die! Then it straightened from this contorted posture and seemed to rest there in my palms asleep.

I still had no idea if the bird would live, but I was determined to sit there as long as necessary to keep the thing warm. The sun had set by now and the dusk air was chilling. Gus brought me out a jacket and draped it over my shoulders. He stood next to me marveling at the little bird. Then, unable to resist, he tenderly reached out his finger to stroke the silken feathers. The house finch exploded from my hands and flew over the block wall into the desert! We both ran over to see if we could see him. Along the far wall four house finches and a mourning dove were perched. One of them was a male house finch. Was he mine? I don’t know. All I know is that little house finch survived his window strike and flew away into the desert. Perhaps he is feeding in my backyard this morning. I hope he is.

The birds are good company in all respects. They bring me close to nature and remind me that I am not the only species to occupy this planet. They remind me that my actions do have consequences for good or bad and to consider what I do as I move through life. I enjoy their musical voices in the mornings; their raucous chatter at times. I’m thrilled by the hunt of the hawks and falcons and horrified by the cruelty of nature. Perhaps I need to be. But I will choose this society of birds for what it adds to my life and how it keeps me grounded and connected to this earth I live on and the creator who authors both their life and mine.

Wild Air

I lay in bed last night listening to the gentle pitter-patter of rain outside my bedroom door. The soothing sound relaxed me after a busy day of holiday preparations. I settled snugly into my bed beneath a downy quilt when suddenly I snapped to attention. A sound like a rushing freight train washed over the house. The flag across the wash started snapping and flapping. The metal pulley clanged against the flagpole. The storm front was moving through.

All night long the wind lashed the house. Outside my poor mesquite tree whipped in the wind. Rain pounded down leaving a puddle in the middle of the yard. This morning as the sun rose in stormy skies the wind is still gusting. Tattered clouds scud across the sky dome. The sun rising behind Mt. Fagan gilded the cloud edges gold. Sunbeams stream out between a rift in the clouds, then disappear behind the wooly blanket once again.

In the brief rift the sunlight washes over the desert. Palo Verde trees shimmer in the dramatic storm lighting. Their winter branches toss in the gusting wind. Dark storm clouds to the north provide a charcoal backdrop to the green branches and trunk. Water lies in puddles on the street and in the desert. I feel the wildness in me. I want to run like the wind and toss my cares into the sky. I want to feel the freedom of a bird as it takes flight. I want to be part of this earth, part of this place. I want to be a wild thing.

At home again as I prepare my breakfast the birds have arrived in droves. All my feeders are covered with birds. The ground beneath is thick with them. The hummingbird feeders are being visited regularly. I cracked the window to let in the fresh, wild air. I see a raven flying towards the house. As the black shape approaches the window it flies over the rooftop so close that I hear the rush of wind through its wings.

As I sit here and write the storm clouds have thickened to a solid gray blanket once again. It looks as if we could be in for more rain today. I hear a squeaky squawk and, glancing out the den window, I see a flicker hanging from the wire cage surrounding the bird feeder. It reaches its long beak in through the wires extracting safflower seeds from the mix. I watch as each white seed slides down the pointed beak. The spotted breast of the flicker peeks out between its wings and legs as it clutches the wires. A chorus of House Finches watch as the flicker scarfs their food. It doesn’t stay long and soon flies off to the desert once again.