First Significant Fall

Day 113: Unless you count the three or four flakes which fell one day in November, this is our first snow of the year. In any event, it's the first significant snow we've seen. Temps have been warmer than those of the last few winters, but it has also been substantially drier with only 3.27" of precipitation recorded by my station for January. The temps are about to drop, and while that usually means we get less precipitation, snow showers are in the forecast for every day next week. I like snow when I can watch it at leisure from the warm confines of my home. I'm not so fond of it when it sets up like concrete and I need to go out for groceries, nor am I fond of temperatures which incline me to wear a hat and long johns indoors. On the other hand, Merry is enjoying this. He spent yesterday entranced by the big, floppy flakes falling from above, and in between showers, it was easier to see the little birdies hopping around beneath the window in search of scattered seed. This brings me to a question: Have you spotted the Junco yet?

Nutty Horticulture

Day 324: Most of my readers will recall that I've done a number of rather odd horticultural experiments in the past, but this one has to be the nuttiest yet. Past experience with filberts/hazelnuts strongly suggests that wildlife or worms get the meat before the nuts can be harvested, but I don't recall that I ever opened a nut while it was green to see if there was actually anything inside. Harry Lauder has developed quite a few clusters of nuts this year, so I decided to sacrifice one in the name of science. I was surprised to find a developing nut inside the shell which, it must be mentioned, was already fairly hard. I began by trying to saw off the top, but I pinched the shell so hard with the pliers that as soon as I'd broken through the exterior, it shattered. Even so, the experiment gave good results, revealing an immature filbert. Having discovered this, a second experiment suggested itself: try to keep peckers and paws off a few nuts long enough for them to ripen. It's possible they may go wormy. Experiments frequently have numerous possible outcomes. To that end, I mounted three chicken-wire cages on stakes, each cage surrounding two to four nuts. While this may not be sufficient to deter the long-beaked Steller's Jays, I am hoping to have two or three nuts mature.

Shelter In Place

Day 114: Following Mr. Towhee's advice, I am sheltering in place, not even going out for groceries although I discovered yesterday that I'm down to my last half dozen Red Rose tea bags. 'Sokay, I have some herbals I should use up, and I'm well stocked for coffee. That said, if you're a bird, food is a priority regardless of the weather. Towhee and friends are making quick forays to the feeders, then retreating to the relatively snow-free core of the contorted filbert. The tangled branches provide protection not only from predators, but also from the weather. If you're snowed in, you might want to think about making a few bird-sized holes in the snow/ice covering your shrubs. The little guys will appreciate your efforts.

Cutie-dee

Day 96: You have to realize that the presence of Black-Capped Chickadees in my yard qualifies as a Really Big Deal, so I hope you don't get tired of seeing them. I certainly don't! It has taken decades to lure them across the road to the contorted filbert, less than 200 feet in human terms but a major expedition for these avian explorers. Far less common species have made farther journeys: Lazuli Buntings, Western Tanagers, high-country Grey Jays down from the Park, out of their customary environs for the occasional visit. Yet here I sat, Chickadeeless for almost thirty years before any small winged soul set toenail across the border dividing My Side from Your Side. I felt like I was living in one of those movie families where the disagreeing occupants draw a line down the middle. I hope they've come to stay!

Same Tree, Different Bird

Day 58: One of the most colourful birds to visit my yard, Steller's Jay (Cyanocitta stelleri) is also one of the most common and certainly the most consistent. Year-'round, their population remains more or less constant, unlike the juncoes who, although also a year-'round species, experience rises and falls in their census. By mass and duration, the jay population may even occupy a larger amount of air space than the crows who generally only come for breakfast. Many people dislike jays, claiming that they bully smaller birds; such is not my experience with them in any of the locales where I have had them as guests. There is little reason for competition at my feeders at any time except when the Grosbeaks arrive to consume black-oil seed in copious amounts. The jays take a respectful back seat to them, knowing that I'll put out more seed as soon as I notice the feeders are empty. Like all members of the Corvidae, Steller's jays are smart, and mine certainly realize they've discovered an almost limitless supply of food in my yard.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!

Day 17: Having Chickadees (plural) in my yard is so noteworthy that I would like to reiterate: I have at least two, and although I don't see them every day, they show signs of liking it here. I am reasonably certain they are paired; they were investigating knotholes in the fence together, presumably getting an early look at the housing market. Oh, to have baby 'dee-dees next spring! That said, it remains to be seen how their presence will affect the Pine Siskins. The two species generally avoid each other. Last year, I had both visiting the feeders, Siskins alternating with Chickadees on a fairly regular basis. While I was clearing out garden debris this morning, 'Dee-dee flitted back and forth between Harry Lauder and the hopper filled with sunflower seeds, "dee-dee-dee-ing" at me in a friendly conversation and making me smile.

More Than One!

Day 315: There is cause for great jubilation here today. The Black-Capped Chickadee has found himself a friend! I can't tell if there are more than two, but I have positively observed a second one which stayed sitting in the Japanese maple as the first one flew across my line of vision and perched on Harry Lauder. This year marked the first in thirty that they have come across the road to my yard. One appeared at the feeders for the first time in January of this year, and over the intervening months, he (or she) has become more confident around me, allowing me to walk within 6-10 feet before flying away. He's not much inclined to hold still long enough for me to focus the camera, but I managed to get a few passable snaps this morning. I suspect that their 50-yard migration is a direct reflection of the maturity of the shrubbery; they've finally decided there's enough habitat to set up housekeeping. A landmark day indeed! Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!

Half-Baked Horticulture

Day 275: Contorted Filbert (aka Harry Lauder's Walking Stick, Corylus avellana "Contorta") is, according to numerous experts, an extremely difficult tree to propagate. Over the years, I've tried rooting it in water, heeling in (both using cuttings of new and old wood) and soil layering, but without success. I had considered grafting onto native Corylus stock, but this is not recommended because the parent stock is prone to suckering. Finally, I decided to go on line to see what those same experts could suggest, and found a consensus: air layering.

Okay, it's been many years since I air-layered anything (a leggy dieffenbachia, as I recall), so I went to YouTube for a refresher course. I could have pulled out a plant manual, but I was already sitting at the computer (I'm getting lazy these days) and I was curious to see if there had been any improvements made to the technique. The process is pretty basic. You strip a section of bark from a branch including a node in the section, scrape off all the cambium for an inch or so on either side of the node, treat the section with rooting hormone, pack wet peat or sphagnum around the wound and then seal it up in plastic wrap. Okay, got that. Nothing new there. However, one horticulturist recommended applying a layer of aluminum foil over the top of the plastic wrap to reflect the heat of summer sun. In the video's conclusion, he said, "And there you have it...baked potato on a stick."

Harry Lauder now sports three of the strangest fruits in my garden. It'll be a month or two before I can tell if this bit of half-baked horticulture will work.

Red Umbrella In The Snow

Day 129: In the Pacific Northwest, if you carry an umbrella, it marks you as being from Somewhere Else (probably California), but a few years ago, I bought a cheap one specifically for a photo shoot. It hasn't been out of the closet since, deemed an ineffectual way to keep our particular breed of rain off you...you know, the kind of rain which comes down sideways and penetrates to the bone within a minute or two of starting, the kind of rain which arrives on Tuesday and doesn't leave for at least two weeks. True Pacific Northwesterners live in the full-body protection of Goretex.

So, unfamiliar with umbrellas as a species, I finally found the little button you push to open the beast. Whoosh! Up she went! I took the photo, and then while still outside in the cold, I started trying to figure out how to return it to the "closed" configuration. Much swearing ensued as I trapped pieces of my jacket in it, and had it refuse to lock into place because I'd passed some invisible point which re-engaged the "open" mechanism. As I got colder and colder (remember, I'm just recovering from pneumonia), I decided the prudent thing would be to take it indoors and work on it there. Even so, it took me almost twenty minutes to figure out how to clamp it between my knees so I could get all the little points back in the handle.

Such A Puzzle!

Day 46: When the contorted filbert is fully leafed out, it provides excellent habitat for the assortment of bird species which come to my feeders, but even after the leaves have dropped, it forms a tangle through which no hunting hawk can pass quickly enough to snatch a songbird. The little guys can navigate among the twisted branches with ease, and usually, the jays are alert to any danger. One alarm call, and all the small birds disappear into the heart of the bush, warily emerging once the hawk has left. Now decorated with a lush crop of catkins, the tree puts me in mind of another type of puzzle: jigsaw! Wouldn't this Spotted Towhee make a wicked 1000-piece challenge?

Spring Beaks

Day 193: One of the happiest moments in my year is when I hear the first "Churp?" of an Evening Grosbeak at the feeder. From that point on, I wait anxiously for the arrival of the flock and the time when the querulous "churping" of porch-parrots outside the window becomes almost constant. Yes, they have arrived and are consuming black-oil sunflower seeds as fast as those great green beaks can crack the shells.

During breeding season (i.e., spring), the beaks of both males and females turn a bright chartreuse. In courting his lady-of-the-moment, the male (right) effects a bobbing dance, sometimes fluttering the wings like a juvenile bird soliciting food. Nest-building is done largely by the female (left) who selects a site in the fork of a branch. Locally, the preferred nest-tree is Douglas Fir, although these birds nest may nest in deciduous trees as well. The female will produce 2-5 eggs (generally 3-4). Incubation is done solely by the female; the male will bring her food. Both parents tend the young who will be ready to fly about two weeks from hatching. During the months they are here, I keep a steady supply of sunflower seed in the feeders to assure the return of the flock next year.

Where'd He Come From?

Day 144: Following the interrogative theme, today's feature is "Where," as in "Where the hell did HE come from?" Please forgive the crummy photos. When you're documenting a Life List sighting, it's important to capture the field markings at any cost. As it was, this White-Throated Sparrow would not come out of the deep shadows in the interior of the contorted filbert long enough for me to get a good shot. Consequently, I've settled for some loss of focus and have done quite a bit of processing to bring him out of hiding. I'm sure Zonotrichia albicollis must have been at my feeders before this, but only today did I notice that...what the heck? Yellow eye stripe? Light-tipped secondaries? Dark beakie? Smudgy tie-tack? Wait...white on the throat? That's not one of my regulars! And thus the photographic chase began, bird in the gloom, me at the open window, snow falling, the house rapidly getting colder. But there he is, and now I know to watch for him in the hopes of obtaining a decent "field guide" image.

The Waldo Tree

Day 91: Find Waldo. And while you're looking for him, remember that you have the advantage of being zoomed in on the much broader scene a Red-Tailed Hawk would be seeing, and you're not a predator browsing for dinner. Faster than a stooping Red-Tail, little Waldo can dart into the protection of those tangled branches, branches which the bigger hawk can't penetrate with the same ease.

It's hard to believe that the contorted filbert started its residency here as an 18-inch twig. It is now ten feet high and equally as wide, and affords cover for two or three dozen birds at one time. No matter how much seed you put out, birds will not come to your yard in numbers unless they're also provided with habitat. This tree takes the prize! Several times, I've tried to propagate it from cuttings, and last year thought I might have succeeded finally, but a dry, hot spell shattered my hopes. As much as the birds love the tree, I would be happy to plant half a dozen more!

No Shingles Here

Day 88: Houses have shingles, therefore this bird is purple.

Okay, I imagine some of you are having a hard time with that statement, but it is perfectly reasonable when you have all the data. This is a Purple Finch (Carpodacus purpureus). It has a close cousin in House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus) and can be difficult to distinguish from it where the two species overlap in range. The key is in observing the bird's flanks and breast. House Finch has much sharper markings; the flanks in particular are patterned with distinct dark streaks, i.e., the "shingles" on the House. If you remember that one key phrase "Houses have shingles," you should have no trouble telling them apart in the field, even if the mnemonic confuses your non-birding friends.

Stellar Steller's Jay

Day 87: One of the most consistent year-'round visitors to the feeders is Steller's Jay. Their harsh voices and aggressive behaviour annoy many people, but when the food supply is abundant, they leave off arguing over seed and dine alongside the smaller birds in relative peace. Personally, I do not find their regular call irritating; rather, it is part of the daily conversations which go on outside my window. But in addition to the rasping rattle, Steller's is an imitator. He can put up an exact duplicate of the "keeeeer" cry of a Red-tailed Hawk, and sometimes employs it to clear the queue of finches and sparrows. Like other corvids, Steller's is intelligent and crafty, bold and sometimes brazen, but above all else, this magnificent bird is beautiful, and brings vibrant colour to the dull winter garden.

Winter Song

Day 86: The cold snap has been trying for my little feathered friends, so I've been putting out extra seed. Juncoes are the most common visitors to the feeders now, though I have them year-'round. Steller's Jays are almost as numerous, but there are others. Today, the committee included two representatives of Melospiza melodia, Song Sparrow (above) as well as a host of Spotted (Rufous-sided) Towhees and one lone Purple Finch. Everyone enjoys the tangled protection of the contorted filbert in between forays to the seed supply, the finches and sparrows staying in the boughs while the towhees scurry and hop around the base, foraging for what their neighbours drop. For my part, I kept to the house, taking pictures through a window open onto mid-teen temperatures, half-expecting a curious bird to seek a warmer sanctuary.

Merry Christmas!

Day 73: Merry Christmas and Season's Greetings from the residents of Lichenopolis! However you celebrate the holidays, our best wishes will follow you into the coming year.

Birdwatching

Day 39: Birdwatching (particularly in my own back yard) is something I enjoy greatly. I maintain feeding stations with an eye to attracting as many species as possible, and have planted trees, shrubs and forage plants in my yard to make it as appealing as possible. Not a day goes by that I don't see Dark-eyed Juncoes (Oregon and Pink-sided, above) and Steller's Jays as well as the resident ravens and my namesake crows. The juncoes occur here year-'round, whereas other species including grosbeaks, sparrows, finches, wrens, towhees, swallows and siskins come only in season but do so consistently year after year. I am always delighted when an "occasional" shows up: Lazuli Bunting, Western Tanager, Scrub Jay, etc. I keep a Life List and although it isn't as impressive as it would be if I travelled, it thrills me to be able to tick off something I haven't seen before. Photographically, the Juncoes get short shrift. They're my "everyday" birds, their soft pips always coming from within the tangled branches of the contorted filbert, letting me know that the daily seed is expected, yes, but also appreciated.

Botanical Art

Day 97: My talent for art is feeble at best, although I'm learning how to handle coloured pencils thanks to a Christmas gift of Johanna Basford's "Enchanted Forest" colouring book. As I've experimented with shading and blending, it has occurred to me that any naturalist worth the name should at least dabble at illustrating. Here you see my first effort, catkins plucked from Harry Lauder, the contorted filbert in my yard. I made a faint outline of my subject with a standard lead pencil and then began applying colour. Unfortunately, I failed to center the drawing on the page (laziness on my part...I should have erased it and started over), and I find the colour saturation to be lacking (best I could manage with these pencils), but as a first attempt, I'm not too disappointed.

National Bird Day

Day 84: There's a lot of talk on the internet about today being "National Bird Day," but Googling for any official proclamation will have you swimming in a sea of confusion. Some say the US observes the occasion in May as originally specified by Charles Babcock in 1894; in fact, Wikipedia lists both dates, although it gives no background on the institution of January 5th as the holiday. Similar holidays occur in Canada and the UK, also on different dates. So what's the story? Personally, I'd like to see a holiday recognizing Nature supplant either Hallowe'en or Valentine's Day, both of which seem to promote tooth decay and commercialism, but I doubt I could raise the support for such a radical change. In any event, the point is moot: EVERY day is Bird Day at my house!