Bad bird photo of the week

Another bird on a wire.

: )

"Up yours."

Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours." ~Robert Byrne

; )

But it sure can be pretty!

(Same scene as yesterday, at Allaire State Park, only 5 feet or so to the left.)

Sometimes

Sometimes? The only thing to do is lift your face to the warm kiss of the sun. (This after reveling in the pure and simply joy of digging out from under yet another snowstorm.)

Strange bedfellows

All the little ponds here along the coast are frozen solid, mostly. Each has at least some open water and that's where all the birds are congregating. Fletcher Lake between Ocean Grove and Bradley Beach had this Great Blue Heron (who looks scarily hungry for some Mallard flesh!), many Mallards, a couple white domestic ducks, a Pintail(!!!), a Wigeon and a Black-crowned night heron sleeping along the shoreline.

A couple blocks away in Spring Lake we found a single Snow Goose feeding on the postcard-sized lawn of a beach house with a small group of Canada Geese.

Strange.

I find myself inclined to worry about wildlife when everything is frozen and snow-covered, but remind myself that wild things are good at surviving. They do much better than I ever could, for sure...

On learning that crossbills were still in the neighborhood

In Long Branch, we stand beside a maintenance shed
of the county park service,
with its four-wheel drive pickup trucks
its piles of road salt
and its border of Japanese black pines.
We spend frigid minutes
shivering in the wind,
the sun warming our faces
and the hint of a warbled song
drifting down in a shower of winged scales.

With tear-stained cheeks and icy fingers
we point past the chain-link fence
to a pile of dirty snow
and a small reddish bird with crossed bill,
quenching its thirst.

Beyond the small group of latecomers, I watch
the green expanse of the Atlantic,
the gray gull, small and perfect as a toy,
that glides across the horizon.
We head back to the warm car;
our pursuit complete,
the promise of cocoa
or an overpriced Windmill hotdog,
with chili and cheese.

- - - - - - - - - - -

I can't say anything about the Red and White-Winged Crossbills here at the Jersey Shore that hasn't already been said, other than that they're still in their expected place at Seven President's Park. For whatever reason, I waited until the coldest day ever to go see them. Neat birds... certainly worth the frigid temperatures.

Crossbills are the only family of birds that have crossed mandibles; what might look like a deformity is, in fact, an adaptation for the bird's feeding habits. Crossbills insert their closed bill into the side of a pine cone and then open it, tearing out the scale and exposing the seed within, which is then scooped out by their odd-shaped tongue. Aside from the quiet trilling, it was the sound of pine cones being torn open that gave away the Crossbills' presence and allowed us to spot them in the shadowed pine trees.

These birds have been present at the park for nearly a month and those of us that venture over to see them must present something of a curiosity to people in the neighborhood... enough that they drive by to ask what in the world we're looking at.

: )

Crossbills wander widely in the winter months, as do birders looking for rarities.

The paranoid poet

Between the poet and the grimacing woman
on a beat-up blue bicycle,
lies a blurred wasteland.

She hasn't always been this person.

Her squalid apartment
the letters scrawled in mad ink
that fizz by themselves in my in-basket

the dreamy smile
that makes her look, suddenly, young.

Walking the tightrope with her
ignoring the drop of the past,
avoiding looking down
to recognize the loss
and spinning, headfirst
into dizzying sadness.

The fear that I, too, might unravel
and spin off into nothing.

- - - - - - - - - - -

CM is a published poet, a librarian in a past life and a client of mine. She recently admitted that she suffers from paranoid schizophrenia and fears that she'll be evicted, now that her landlord knows the truth about her. She insists that her mental illness doesn't affect her ability to write poetry.


I worry about her a lot, visit her often and get almost weekly letters from her. Once or twice a year, she'll send me a poem. I treasure those.


The man with the "golden voice" has me thinking of such things... I imagine a government social worker, somewhere, cheering him on, knowing this was coming, all along.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Photo from the Howard Finster collection at the High Museum in Atlanta. I was there recently to see the Dalí exhibit and... wow!

A year in pictures

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Probably it's time to move on, but I'm not quite finished yet... just a few more 2010 shout outs and I'll be done. I promise.

: )

Haiku with bunnies*

Year's end,

all corners

of this floating world, swept.

- Matsuo Basho

(there's still dustbunnies in the corners, tho!)

*a new occasional series

I thought of you

There's no better way to spend a day than to have your face kissed by the ocean's gentle mist as you walk along the shore. Especially if your heart is full from a day packed with laughter and the presence of people who bring great joy. And especially if your heart is full from longing for family and friends whom you miss dearly, near and far.

I thought of you as I took this photo. I held you in my heart and imagined you were next to me. Yes, you. And you. And you, too.

You know who you are. And if you don't, you should.

Bad bird photo of the week

Care to venture a guess?

: )

Happy Christmas!

The Carousel House in Asbury Park NJ

Balancing the year

"The short days are past us now... thus the year balances its accounts. In our latitude we know that each year brings the time when not only the candle but the hearth fire must burn at both ends of the day, symbol not of waste but of warmth and comfort. The sun cuts a small arc far off to the south and shadows and cold lie deep. It is for this time that we, if we live close to the land, lay up the firewood and the fodder. Now we pay for the long days of Summer, pay in the simple currency of daylight. Hour for hour, the accounts are balanced.

And yet, the short days provide their own bonus. The snows come, and dusk and dawn are like no other time of the year. We come to a long Winter night when the moon rides full over a white world and the darkness thins away. For the full-moon night is as long as the longest day of Summer, and the snowy world gleams and glows with an incandescent shimmer.

Year to year, we remember the short days, but we tend to forget the long nights when the moon rides high over a cold and brittle-white world. Not only the moon nights, but the star nights, when it seems one can stand still on a hilltop and touch the Dipper. Who would not cut wood and burn a candle for a few such nights a year?"

-Hal Borland, Sundial of the Seasons

OK astronomy geeks... with tonight's solstice and lunar eclipse... is tonight the longest and the darkest night ever?

How many of you mean to stay up to see it?

(shivering at the thought!)

Image from here.

It's all cold up along the boardwalk...

Tick-tock...

Lines across the sky

Bald Eagle over Forsythe NWR

"He draws great lines across the sky; he sees the forests like a carpet beneath him; he sees the hills and valleys as folds and wrinkles in a many colored tapestry; he sees the river as a silver belt connecting remote horizons. We climb mountain peaks to get a glimpse of the spectacle that is hourly spread out beneath him. Dignity, elevation, repose, are his. I would have my thoughts take as wide a sweep. I would be as far removed from the petty cares and turmoils of this noisy and blustering world."

-John Burroughs, Far and Near

I had my life Bald Eagle at Forsythe (Brig) many years ago... I can hardly go there today without remembering that first glimpse of this magical bird.

Where was your first?

The cranes! The cranes!

A couple young Whooping Cranes arrived today at St. Marks NWR in Florida to spend the winter... led there from Wisconsin off the wings of an ultralight... how cool is that?!?

You can learn more about their incredible journey at the Operation Migration Field Journal.

I wrote some more about the Whooping Cranes at St. Mark's here.

Ternabout

For the longest time, I just didn't "get" terns. Nowadays I can't seem to get enough of them!

For the beginner, I think they're hard to separate, but the more time I get to spend with them, the clearer the contrasts become.

Distinguishing Royal (foreground) from Caspian (background) had felt so abstract until I saw them on the beach together at Sapelo... even out of focus, the Caspians are burly by comparison and there's no mistaking the red of their bill for that of a Royal.

Note: I'm catching up with posting some old photos that I hadn't yet blogged... these from the beach in October are warming my chilly bones.

Remembering warmer days

Waiting for the ferry to Sapelo

A spectacle in black and white, brown and blue

The promise of hundreds upon hundreds of Snow Geese drew me to Forsythe NWR this past weekend...

Their handsome white or shades of gray in the blue sky, the black wing feathers, pinkish bills and feet...

All delightful against the winter browns of the salt marsh.

It's difficult to watch any one, as there are so many flying across the marsh from one impoundment to the next...

An Eagle on the horizon doesn't cause the expected panic among them; they sit tight instead and travel across the marsh en masse, at their leisure and to my delight.

*The coastal marshes of NJ are a significant wintering ground for Snow Geese; their numbers will grow into the (hundreds?) of thousands before our waters freeze and they're forced further south to warmer climes. I'm glad for the spectacle of them, here, now.

: )

Here's looking at you

: )

Ducks around town

I'm lucky to live along the coast and in a place where ducks like to be in winter; each town has its' own little pond just a block in from the ocean and each seems to attract a particular variety of waterfowl...

Traveling from one pond to the next is half the fun; discovering what has shown up since last weekend is the best part. Gadwall are a nice find and under-appreciated, I think... that speckled zig-zaggeyness of their bellies is gorgeous, no?

I have trouble remembering the names of each pond or distinguishing one from the next along the circuitous route I follow by habit from town to town; I know to expect Ruddy Ducks here, but

I think of this as the Night Heron Pond (Silver Lake, I think) because there's always at least a dozen of them roosting in the shrubbery on a little island in the middle of the pond. I can sit down out of the wind and watch them materialize before my eyes. We counted 14 today without really trying and that number will increase as it gets colder.

Hooded Mergansers seem to be everywhere, on every little pond, but getting a decent pic of one is forever challenging.

Lake Takanassee is a favored spot for Ring-Necked Duck (not here last weekend!) Canvasbacks and in a good year, Red Heads. There's always gulls to sort through, if you're so inclined (I'm not) and the light in late afternoon is sweet for photos of the Mute Swans that seem to be taking over there.

(ick.)

The day ends at Sandy Hook with the wind, watching Gannets feeding over the hunched-up shoulders of some very cold-looking fishermen, Manhattan in the distance and kite surfers on the bay.

Mmm...

All the chatter at work the last few days has been about the upcoming holiday meal and who's going where and cooking what.

It's a pretty diverse crowd and I've enjoyed hearing about everyone's plans for Thanksgiving as well as their family traditions. My own family is pretty typical, I'd guess... a huge meal on the fancy china, but the star of the show is always the variety of vegetables we prepare; we always go a little overboard in that way. It's hard for me to settle on a favorite, but Brussels Sprouts certainly top my list.

Is that weird?

(It seems like most everyone I talk to hates Brussels Sprouts!)

My answer is that if you don't like 'em, you must not be cooking them properly.

; )

So tell me... what's your favorite thing to eat on Turkey Day? Mashed potatoes piled high with butter? Or mixed with whipped turnips? Creamed (yuck!) onions? Lasagna? Arroz con gandules?

Bad bird photo of the week

Cross-eyed (and beakless!)

; )

The plumes blowing in the breeze are kinda sweet, tho.

Criers of the winter to come...

Tundra Swans over Cape May - October 2010

Fishing the sky

"What a needy, desperate thing to claim what's wild for oneself..."

Can a kept hawk ever be a *happy* hawk, I wonder?

Falconers will say their birds are well-loved and are cared for properly. I don't doubt that.

Educators who work with non-releasable birds will say that many people who otherwise wouldn't have the chance to interact with a wild thing are touched by the lives of these captive birds. I don't doubt that, either.

But keeping wild-caught birds for falconry? Purposely fishing the sky for a healthy hawk to catch and keep as one's personal hunting partner?

How is that right?

Are captive-bred birds somehow less desirable for falconry?

Anyone know?

I'm as guilty as the next person of enjoying the "horse and pony show" offered by the opportunity to be up close with a wild bird of prey, but I can't help wondering that their souls aren't somehow diminished by the contact; by being kept.

Non-releasable birds have to be thought of in a different context, I guess, because of their potential as champions and ambassadors of a species; were it not for them most people would never have the chance to see a Bald Eagle or a Screech Owl at arm's length. Or to understand the impact we humans have on them.

But falconers and their healthy wild-caught birds?

I'm not so sure how I feel about that.

My issue is not with falconers, exactly. Falconry sounds like a very cool thing to do... there was a period of time where I read everything about falconry that I could get my hands on. Dan O'Brien's books were particularly alluring to me... his stories of hunting grouse and ducks on the prairies of South Dakota with a dog and the constant sky...

Falconers are due credit, I believe, for the role they played in saving the Peregrine Falcon, among other species. The individual falconer with a couple birds that he flies on weekends as part of a greater lifestyle does not trouble me.

My issue is with those who turn to *education* to support a habit of acquiring birds. Maybe they need an educational component on their license to increase the number of birds they're permitted to keep. I have no idea, really, but I've seen a number over the years who just don't seem to be doing the right thing by the birds in their care.

Maybe I'm just being overly sentimental.

"... to be wild means nothing you do or have done needs to be explained."

Photos: Harris' Hawk at an upstate NY *raptor center*
Quotes from "Hawk" by Stephen Dunn

Favorites

A couple more from photography boot camp...

The cold at sunup was still a novelty that weekend...

One of a hundred arhats...

A falconer's redtail...

Darn that guy for walking through my pic...

Thanks to Jayne for a bit of photoshop magic!

; )

A sweet cow with spurs...

More clouds...