Day 296: When I cannot go into Nature, Nature comes to me. Pedalling strongly on my exercise bike, I was watching for the butterfly I suspected of being an Orange-Tip and had the camera within arm's reach atop the recycle bin. A flutter of yellow pulled my eyes away from the hawkweed and into the branches of the Sitka mountain-ash, now heavily laden with bright orange berries. It took me a few seconds to find the bird, longer to find it in the lens, and when it was at last in my view, I said, "Well, who are you, then? You're not a Parrot, and you're certainly not a Goldfinch. You're too big to be a Wobbler" (my term for warblers). "Who the heck are you? Oh, I know! I bet you're a lady Tanager!" I recalled having seen a splash of orange amid the deep shadows of the contorted filbert's leaves a few days earlier, and possibly another instance of "orange flash" in the tangle of Philadelphus stems in the back yard, both typical of the type of sighting the males usually give me: a wink of colour which I can't even say for certain is a bird except that it would have to be, all other factors considered. Ms. Tanager sat on her bough long enough for me to get several photos which were sufficient to confirm my identification: young or molting female Western Tanager, Piranga ludoviciana. I wonder where her boyfriend is? And more to the point, do I now have a breeding pair? Oh, that would be exciting news! I seldom see one more than once every few years.
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