Birding Maine with Beth

For me, part of the fun of birding is finding someone to go birding with. In July I travelled to Maine where I met my new blogging and birding friend, Beth of Beth's Stories.

We met at the Boiler Room restaurant in Wilton, ME, which is near Wilson Lake. The Boiler Room is housed in an old mill which still has the mill creek running alongside.

Beth and I sit inside the brick lined boiler room dining area which still has the remnants of its past hanging about on the walls and ceiling. It was the first time we met but we felt like old friends. It is an easy meeting. Her red hair catches my eye. I always wanted to be a redhead. Her bright eyes sparkle behind her new glasses. We order our meals and chat, but we are eager to finish so we can go out birding together.

After our meal we head out to find birds. A few clouds overhead threaten rain as we stop by the smooth blue lake to take a few photos and see if there were any birds on the water. Wilson Lake, also called Wilson pond, is just one of many with that name in Maine. My grandfather use to camp and fish at another Wilson pond up by Moosehead Lake far to the north. I was born on his birthday and it is because of him that I feel such a connection to this state. However, there are no birds on this lake today, so we drive over to a nearby cemetery I know of to see what we can see.

We park our car in a quiet corner where large eastern white pines ring the edge of the graveyard. We glance up to see the evidence of woodpeckers, but no birds. Then, we hear a ruckus in the trees and watch as a family of blue jays flies into the pines.



The young jays screech and squawk at the parents to feed them. The parents are frantic to oblige. We laugh and enjoy the show. Then, I see some movement across the street. The black and white barring of a hairy woodpecker hanging about flahses by and lands clinging to a tree trunk. Perhaps he is the one who made at least some of the holes we observed earlier. After spotting a red-winged blackbird in a wet meadow beyond the trees, a chickadee and a few mourning doves we head back to the car and decide to try someplace else.

I suddenly remember a place I had seen on the back side of the lake from when I lived here before. We drive west along the lake until we reach Rt. 2. I take a right, which is west, and just a bit further we turn off Rt. 2 onto Pond Rd. We follow the road around a bend to where it opens into farmland and meadows. There on the left I see the gravel parking area just as I remembered it. We pull in and grab our binoculars and cameras. Even before we cross the road to the trail I spot an Eastern Kingbird sitting on the gate. I am thrilled, for Beth and I had been discussing this very species earlier and she had mentioned that she had not seen it. Our first bird at the Foothills Land Conservancy site is not only a Kingbird, but a life bird for Beth!

Then, as we cross the street to the meadow we see a Savannah Sparrow catching insects in the meadow grass. A warm sun shines down on us filtered by the threatening clouds. The air is muggy but a light breeze ruffles our hair now and again. I did not remember to bring bug spray and neither did Beth. I know I will pay for this foray into the meadow, but I will not be deterred by mosquitoes. This is the only day and time that Beth and I have. We forge on.

Soon I hear this strange whistling buzz in the trees overhead. A quick look up reveals a flock of cedar waxwings silhouetted against the patchy blue sky. All my senses are on alert as we walk onward. Someone has mowed a path around the meadow, which is thick with tall grasses and wildflowers.

Beth is much better than I am at tuning into the wildflowers we walk amongst. She points them out to me and I stop to photograph them, all the while listening for birds and watching for winged motion in the trees. Suddenly I grab her arm as my mouth drops open, for I cannot believe what I am seeing in the nearby trees. A bird with a curved bill is clinging almost sideways to a branch. I see it's clear white breast and long chestnut tail. It looks at me through wary eyes rimmed with red and freezes. I'm torn between trying to show the bird to Beth and trying to get a photograph. Beth hears the excitement in my voice as I try to point the bird out to her. I raise my camera to get a shot of the cuckoo and it spooks. Beth watches as the bird flies across the meadow to the trees beyond. I never expected to see a cuckoo. It wasn't even on my radar screen. I know it only as a bird in a book until now. Later, I scour my bird guides for clues as to which cuckoo it was, for there is a yellow-billed and a black-billed cuckoo. I was hoping they had different ranges, but their ranges do overlap. But, since I clearly remember seeing the red skin around the eyes I decide it must have been a black-billed cuckoo. This, too, is one of the pleasures of birding, for birding is a puzzle to be solved.

We continue on our way, but poor Beth endures me repeatedly remarking, "I can't believe I saw a cuckoo. I can't believe I saw a cuckoo" for the rest of our hike. As the trail leads from one meadow to another I'm struck by the beauty of these milkweed blossoms. Though I have grown up with milkweed I am more used to the dry seed pods and the fluffy down that floats on the wind. This is my first time really noticing the blossoms that create the seeds in the first place. The unopened buds appears like tiny purple fruits, but when they open the berries become pink petticoats on a green stem flanked by large shady green leaves. No wonder butterflies like them. What a pretty place to rest and feed.

As we walk along we spot this huge beetle crawling in the grass. I have no idea what it is, but Beth is not afraid to pick it up for better viewing. I'm content to take a picture and let it crawl away. Birding not only provides the opportunity to see birds, it connects me with nature in so many other ways.

As we walk along through the meadow I glance back at the view behind me. These mountains to the west are framed by the trees that ring the meadow and by the tall meadow grasses and weeds.

Farther on I am surprised to find a few maple leaves in the marsh already turning, a reminder that here in Maine, winter is never far away.





Then we find a few ripe raspberries growing along the edge of the meadow. Beth and I pick a few, surprised that the birds have left any at all. We hear the pounding of a woodpecker and find a little downy working on a nearby tree.

As meadow leads to meadow, we cross this plank bridge over a small brook, almost hidden in the dense grass.

Here in this wet meadow we find common yellow throats galore. They pop in and out of the grasses and I snap numerous pictures before I finally get one where the bird is fully exposed. He looks like a mischievous little bandit with his black mask. I'm sure he is having a good laugh at us!

We finally reach the marshy end of the meadow. Beyond Wilson Lake lies to the east. This looks like perfect moose habitat, but we see none. However, the mosquitoes are out in force and I slap away at my legs and arms trying to ignore their bites.

We follow the path back through the meadow to our car. Sometimes we talk. Sometimes we walk in companionable silence enjoying the experience for what it is.

Back at the car Beth sits patiently on a rock while I photograph the farm field full of recently baled hay. The slanting light of the setting sun has thrown a cape of gold across the land.

I drive Beth back to where she parked her car and we hug each other good-bye knowing that we have each made a new friend. This is the joy of birding: new friends, new places, new discoveries. But as I get in my car to drive back to the hotel, I experience one of the pains as my welted legs start to itch with over 100 mosquito bites. I'll carry this memento home with me to Arizona where it will linger for many weeks. But it was worth every mosquito bite I got and I would do it all over again. Thank you Beth for meeting me and sharing this experience. To read Beth's account of this day click on Finding Birds in Wilton.

Sign embedded in a rock at the far end of the meadow near the marsh.

Visit Wrenaissance Reflections to see edition # 83 of I and the Bird. Click on the button above to view the main web site.

Birds seen:

Location: Foothills Land Conservancy
Observation date:7/14/08
Notes: This place was alive with birds and mosquitoes. So much to
see. I will definitely go back. Beth and I both took photos.
Number of species: 12

Black-billed Cuckoo 1
Downy Woodpecker 2
Eastern
Phoebe 2
Eastern Kingbird 1
American Crow 3
Black-capped Chickadee 2
American Robin 1
Cedar Waxwing 12
Common Yellowthroat 5
Savannah Sparrow 10
Song Sparrow 2
American Goldfinch 9

Photographer's note: All of today's phototgraphy is by Kathie with the Nikon D80 and the 70-300mm lens set in sports mode for the birds and landscape mode for the landscape shots.

Artsy Fartsy Birds IATB Edition #82

Welcome to the Artsy Fartsy Birds Edition #82 of I and the Bird

The Ansel Adams of Bird Photography, Klaus of Virtua Gallery: Limpkin

In this week’s edition we will examine the interconnectedness of birds, birding, art, poetry and philosophy. We will see how birds have influenced our lives and our creative selves.

When I read the Fenlandwalkers’ blog post about Flocks in Flight I thought of these lines from Rumi, a Sufi mystic and poet born in 1204. In his poem, divan 730 he writes:

Look! Quickly, look there among the trembling feathers
Of the copper beach, there, you see them—birds making
Ready to ride the dawn skies. They’ll rise up soon, rise up
Leave behind their conferring selves, to skim the seventh
Heaven turning and changing with the stripling light.

But Rumi is not the only one inspired by the image of a bird in flight. In 1926 Brancusi bought a sculpture into the USA from Romania that caused quite a stir in art shows and in customs. It spurred a legal battle even as it stirred the question of “What is Art?” Perhaps the customs agents and the artist himself could have benefited from the Bird Ecology Study Group’s Blog post, Flocking or Migration, Plain Pouched Hornbills. I think I see a resemblance to Brancusi’s controversial sculpture!

Brancusi: Bird in Space

The DC Birding Blog recounts the discovery of a New Forest Robin Species. Unlike our American Robin, which is really a thrush, this little bird reminds me of the robin in The Secret Garden a children’s book by Frances Hodges Burnet. The little robin is a central character in the book, and Old Wom Tigley of Wigger’s World not only has an excellent photo of this little robin, but he has used his artistic and creative skills to give us this impressionistic image of the bird that recalls Monet or Renoir.

English Robin by Tom Wigley

If Descartes, an 18 century philosopher declares, “I think, therefore I am,” then the birders in the movie, Opposable Chums, reviewed by The Hawk Owls Nest would probably declare, “I Bird, therefore I am!” (Or would it be; "I am, therefore I Bird?")

After reading about The Unkindness of Ravens and Other Bird Stories perhaps It's Just Me, Liza Lee Miller will join Edger Allen Poe in his poem The Raven as he declares, “Never More”.

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-

Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

So, to cheer you up, take a trip with Mike of 10,000 Birds to find out if he discovered, like Anne Morrow Lindberg, the Gift of the Sea when he explored The Birds of Virginia Beach.

Alright, has Jackson Pollock been up to mischief? You might think so when you take a look at this Swirly Bird entered by the Nancy Castillo of the Zen Bird Feeder.

Swirly Bird by the Zen Bird Feeder

You can try your creating yoru own Pollock masterpiece by clicking on this link for Jackson Pollock. Once you are there a blank page will appear but, just move your mouse and see what happens! Left click to change colors.

If you like Van Gogh and his Sunflowers, then take a look at the Birder’s Lounge to see a Yellow Warbler in a Sunflower. What do you think Van Gogh could do with this image?

Troy and Martha of Ramblings Around Texas could be our modern Walt Whitman's with cameras. Walt Sang a “Song of Myself” in his book, Leaves of Grass, while Troy and Martha sing a song of nature. While his post, Will The Guilty Goose Step Forward may remind you more of Sherlock Holmes or a recent episode of CSI, for me it recalled these lines of Whitman’s:

The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night

Ya Honk! he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation;

The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen closer,

I find purpose and place up there toward the November sky.

Perhaps those geese may soon stop by The Nemesis Bird where he has been Birding Octorara Lake in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. While he is seeing shorebirds there, in Mary’s Corner of the World, faraway in California, she is also seeing her share of shore birds with The Smaller Birds of the Coast Guard Station. But Bird Freak encountered a Horicon Marsh De-Rail-ment in his birding quest.

From The Birder’s Report we learn that Great Horned Owls are Masters of Their Domain. This humorous old children’s rhyme may tell us why.

There was an old owl who lived in an oak;
The more he heard, the less he spoke.
The less he spoke, the more he heard.
Why aren’t we like that wise old bird!

If humor is more your fare, you don’t need to turn on Loony tunes when you can just visit The Loony Bin at The Marvelous In Nature. Then visit Mary’s View where Mockingbirds Make Me Wonder will have you laughing, and crying as well as saying, “Aw-w-w-w!”

Henri Matisse may have painted “Madame Matisse, The Green Stripe” but Mary's View has the Green Heron in her Heron Overload.

Frank Lloyd Wright was a master architect who envisioned human dwellings that merged with their surroundings.

"The good building is not one that hurts the landscape, but one which makes the landscape more beautiful than it was before it was built." FLW

Well, the birds were way ahead of you, Frank, as seen by Aimophila Adventures in his report on Desert Swallows who make their homes in saguaros. And just about as far away from the desert as you can get, Nature Canada reports A Foothold for Piping Plovers in Ontario. These bird homes mesh just nicely with their surroundings, their own Taliesin’s of the bird world.

To combine art and birding is not so unusual. In the Wings Birding blog you can read about The Birds and The Bard Birding Tour, for Shakespeare often used bird imagery in his plays and sonnets, as seen below in these lines from Sonnet 29:

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee,—and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

One of Goya’s most famous, yet horrifying paintings is that of Kronos devouring one of his children. It is also known as Saturn Devouring one of His Sons. Kronos is the Greek God of Time and was said to devour his children as Time devours the ages. In the Malaysian Birding Blog a new behavior is observed when a Gold-whiskered Barbet Eats a Eurasian Tree Sparrow. The image of this bird devouring the sparrow reminded me of this image by Goya.

In c.1615 Peter Paul Reubens and Jan Brueghel the Elder painted The Feast of Achelous depicting a scene where the river god serves up a feast to Theseus and his companions as they are returning from Crete. Gallicissa in Sri Lanka serves up an avian feast to his birding guests in a post he entitles, Making Emma Happy. His visual imagery reminds me of the feasting in the Rueben’s painting, though, I don’t believe there was any nudity going on! Then there is Ben Cruachan Natural History where the birds he sees are the ones feasting and they certainly have A Taste for Exotic Fare.

The Feast of Achelous by Peter Paul Reubens and Jan Brueghel

Whether you agree with him or not, Darwin has had a profound influence on birds, nature, and natural history. In line with his philosophy and theory we have these two entries. Living the Scientific Life: The Escalating Co-evolutionary Arms Race Between Cuckoos And Their Hosts takes you back to basics, while The Greenbelt is a tongue in cheek post about the discovery of A New Species. If humor is your style, check out the Darwin Awards.

N.C. Wyeth, Father of Andrew Wyeth, was a well known illustrator of Children’s books back in the mid 1900’s. He was working on this wall mural for the Met Life Insurance Company when he met his untimely death. If you happen to have some of these Tall Yard Birds come to your feeders or visit your yard, Audubon’s Birdscapes has some timely advice on how to keep them safe.

N.C. Wyeth Mural

When it’s all said and done and your head is full of birds and birding, you may have what the Bird Chaser describes as BIADD. Perhaps then it is time for a session with Freud or Jung, though I don’t know if either of them could really help most of us obsessive birders. Perhaps we are all part of one collective bird consciousness and we are all connected. Perhaps that is why we recognize our own species when we see it!

Announcing: I and the Bird Edition # 82

Hello all my birding and blogging buddies out there. I and the Bird Edition #82 will be hosted by kathiesbirds right here at Sycamore Canyon. My theme will be the Art and Philosophy of Birds and Birding. If you think you have an appropriate submission please send it to me as this blog carnival starts on August 21st. If you have a blog post with beautiful blog photography (who doesn't?) or an article about your philosophy of birds or birding (i.e. how do you interact with the natural world around you and how does it affect your everyday life and thoughts. Are you a Zen birder, or are you more aggressive and organized? Do you go with the flow and see what you can find, or are you out there mapping it all out and ticking off your list? )

Do we have the Ansel Adams of birding out there? How about a Renoir or Picasso? Is there a Monet or a Matisse? Can we find the Des Cartes school of bird watching or the Emmanuel Kant school of bird thought? Perhaps you are a Renaisance birder or, perhaps you have photos of a renaissance bird? see where this is going? use your imagination, get creative and start blogging! Then send me the links to your articles. If birds inspire you to art and poetry, send that too. I'll sort through it all and we'll throw the most Artsy Fartsy Bird Carnival you have ever seen!

Vermillion Flycatcher modeling for Matisse (He likes such bright colors you know!)

I look forward to hearing from all of you, and if you have never submitted an article yet, don't be afraid. You can do it! This is my first blog carnival after all. Please send your submissions to my email address located in my profile. I will acknowledge each submission. If you do not hear from me, please try again in case something gets lost in the spam filter. And if you are a spammer, please keep your SPAM to yourself!

How We Spent International Migratory Bird Day

This article is my contibution to I and the Bird #75 hosted by Gallisica in Sri Lanka. Please visit to view other interesting articles about birding.

April 26, 2008 marked the one year anniversary of us moving to Sycamore Canyon. Since that day I have been waiting to take Gus out into the big wash of the canyon. This morning I woke up so excited for it was finally going to happen.

We headed up the street around 8 a.m. under the perpetual sunny skies of May in Arizona. Already the sun felt warm, but I didn’t really care, we are hiking to the canyon! We hiked up through the neighborhood to the newly developed section south of our house. I have been avoiding this section as heavy machinery tore up the desert and laid down the asphalt of new roads. This section of the development will be a gated community with acre lots and huge homes. From the future entrance we can see the former Helvetia mine shining white on the rocky slopes of the Santa Rita Mountains. We hike up the new roads until we reached the point where we access the trail that will take us down into the wash.

Here on the dirt trail we walk among blooming staghorn cholla and prickly pear cacti.

Ash-throated flycatchers cling to an ocotillo searching the sky for insects to dine on. A gilded flicker calls from atop a towering saguaro which looks like a giant prickly pickle thrust into the azure blue sky. Gus is captivated with the beauty of the desert and stops to photograph the spines of a teddy bear cholla. White-winged doves are thick as fleas this time of year and I see them perched on the blooming saguaros and flying overhead from one rim of the canyon to the other. Then, to my surprise, a lesser nighthawk flutters overhead and disappears in the distance in its final search for insects before bedding down for the day.

We finally reach the steep path that cuts down the canyon rim into the wash below. Loose stones and gravel are underfoot with the thorny shrubs of the desert alongside the trail. We descend slowly taking care not to grab the brush to steady ourselves. I feel the loose gravel slip beneath my feet at one point on the path but I am able to regain my balance and continue down the slope. I have brought Gus this way so that when we are in the canyon the sun will be at our backs, which will make photographing and viewing wildlife much easier.

(Looking south)

Finally we are down on the canyon bottom and we head for the sandy open area of the wash in order to enhance our chances of seeing any rattlesnakes before we step on them. As I stand in the thick, dry sand of the wash I try to imagine this canyon full of a rush of water powerful enough to carve out these steep banks and cliffs. The evidence is all around me, but in the year I have lived here I have never seen the wash full of water. Of course, that’s partly due to the fact that when the monsoon comes and it rains, it is also lightening and I prefer not to be a target for the lightning strikes. Perhaps this year I will be brave enough to venture out and see the torrent flow.

(Looking North towards home)

For today, however, it is peaceful and warm here in the canyon and we start the mile or more hike back towards our house. Saguaros tower over us on the canyon rims, but here in the wash I mostly see mesquite scrub, acacia, desert hackberry, wolf berry bushes, wild cotton, and prickly pear cacti. A few cholla cacti are scattered about as well as a few ocotillo, but most of them are up on higher ground. The first bird I see and hear is a single sparrow species hiding in the brush but I am unable to identify it, so we press onward. I glance upwards and see a turkey vulture tilting in the cloudless desert sky. I hear the cackle of a cactus wren and the laughing call of a Gila woodpecker. We see yet another flicker and another ash-throated flycatcher in a mesquite tree.

Gus is snapping pictures of whatever captures his fancy, including this Empress Leilia butterfly.

( Empress Leilia Butterfly ID courtesy of Doug Tauron at Gossemer Tapestry)

We hike past towering red clay cliffs with the huge twisted roots of mesquite trees exposed by erosion. I ask Gus how he likes it and he responds that it is so peaceful and quiet here. And it is. Down here between the canyon rims the civilized world seems ages away and I get a sense of a more primitive time.

We are not seeing as many birds as I thought we would. On my last hike into the wash with my IBA team we saw sparrows, warblers and towhees. Now I am seeing flycatchers, nighthawks and white-winged doves. I really want to see at least one new species today. Gus wants to see a snake. We hike farther down the canyon and as we round a corner I see a flash of color on the limb of a dead tree. A quick glance through my bins reveals a western tanager! This is a new species for Sycamore Canyon, and my first time seeing it in Arizona also. However, I have seen this bird in Colorado and Utah before. Then, I spot a second bird in the same tree. We are quite far away but Gus tries to get a shot anyway. The birds fly farther off to the next tree and we try to creep quietly closer but the sandy gravel beneath our feet crunches and gives us away. While we both get a good view of the birds we never get close enough for a detailed shot though, with cropping and enlarging you can see the red head, yellow body and black wings.

We continue to see nighthawks as we travel, as well as Gambel’s quail. I finally spot two canyon towhees skulking through the underbrush. Then we spot a pair of Pyrrhuloxias in a tree. I see the roof tops of our neighborhood before me, and the final red cliff we pass before we exit the wash. Here the wash breaks up into grassy banks, boulder piles and scrub.

We head through a narrow sandy channel still looking for birds. Suddenly I hear a buzzy rattle and instinctively leap backwards. There on the open sand before me a rattlesnake is coiled in a striking posture. About 3 feet long its thick tan body is patterned with diamond-shaped spots leading me to susspect it is most likely a Western Diamondback Rattlesnake. The tail is banded black and white and the tongue flicks in and out sensing our presence. The head is pulled back and elevated while the tail continues to rattle so rapidly it sounds more like a buzz until the end when it slows enough to sound like a rattle.

I walk backwards, heart pounding to a safe distance. Gus gets in front of me and starts snapping. He keeps his distance also and the rattler slithers off to the shade and safety of a nearby bush. Gus is disappointed because he wants a better shot. I want to head home because my bladder, which was already wanting relief, is now about to burst from the encounter. I walk up another small bank and around the area where the snake is. Gus finally follows me, but he is still searching for a better shot. As we come down on the other side of the snake, he tries again. I know that home is only a short distance away but I am reluctant to leave this crazy photographer alone in the wash with this snake. I urge him onwards and we hike out the last few steps to home.

My final count of birds is 24 species but 4 are unidentified. I heard the high buzzy whistling flight of a hummer species but never saw the bird to positively identify it. We have 3 hummer species here whose wings produce that sound. I heard and saw a gnatcatcher but once again, it eluded my attempts to positively identify it. A chunky short-tailed blackbird flew overhead that I suspect was a bronzed cowbird, but, once again, I wasn't confident enough to call it. And though I saw the one sparrow at the beginning of the hike, I never saw another on the rest of the hike. My one mystery bird is this little brown job that I think is a female brown-headed cowbird, but it could be a female indigo bunting as well.

I am going with the brown-headed cowbird as a flock of 5 showed up at my feeders for the first time this year this morning before we left. All in all, I would say it was a great way to celebrate International Migratory Bird Day. I was able to add a new species to my Sycamore Canyon list, and Gus got his rattlesnake photo. I hope we will be doing this again for there is so much more to explore here in Sycamore Canyon.

(Today's photgraphy courtesy of Gus)

Final Count: 1.Gilded flicker, 2.Ash-throated flycatcher, 3.Cactus wren, 4.Curved-billed thrasher, 5.Gambel's quail, 6.gila woodpecker, 7. White-winged dove, 8. Mourning dove, 9.Turkey Vulture, 10. verdin, 11.Lesser Nighthawk, 12. Western Tanager, 13.Common raven, 14. Chihuahuan Raven, 15. Wison's warbler, 16.brown-headed cowbird, 17.Pyrrhuloxia, 18.Canyon towhee, 19.House finch, 20. Phainopepla, 21.Hummer species, 22. gnatcatcher sp. 23. sparrow sp., 24.blackbird sp.