Fowl Language

Day 106: "And don't sass me back!" The sounds of argument came down to me like a shower of hail as I walked the Bud Blancher Trail this morning. Clearly, someone was having their place in the pecking order explicitly defined with great vigour. Occasionally, I'd hear a mew of complaint, shrill and whiny, quickly followed by a stern command. The playground bully was made to stand in the corner of the classroom, head bowed in humiliation, as the teacher executed a silent repertoire of postures meant to reinforce the rule of the roost. I have never seen a Bald Eagle look as hang-dog as this one, clearly indicating a demotion from alpha by only looking up when both birds were distracted by a low-flying aircraft. After the plane passed, Raven made a gesture of beak-snapping and a head thrust to which the Eagle responded with a resumption of the "downcast eyes" position. Authority was re-established immediately.

The dispute was undoubtedly over feeding privileges. The Nisqually Stream Stewards recently held a "fish toss" nearby, returning frozen salmon carcasses to the waterway as part of a habitat restoration project. Dead fish always draw Eagles: in fact, I counted eight or nine individuals during my six-mile walk. Like other corvids, the opportunistic Ravens are always ready to join the feast and often get into arguments with the larger birds over possession. Intelligence invariably wins out over instinct, and no sensible Eagle will stand up to a Raven for long. This one certainly knew when he was licked!

Boulder

Day 105: I've only managed to walk the Bud Blancher Trail once this year to date, largely because I don't feel like hiking in the rain and we've had very few decent days in January. It seems like my schedule and weather work at odds with each other, invariably a commitment falling on the same day as sunshine. That said, this nice walking route nearly always turns up something of interest, whether it's fungi, lichens, frogs or even a lonesome boulder on the bank of the fishing pond in Smallwood Park. I like rocks with personality, and this old fellow seemed to be waiting for derby day and the hordes of young anglers who turn out for the event. For now, though, he has no one to keep him company except the strolling photographer who thanked him quietly for posing before leaving him to his private thoughts.

American Dipper, Cinclus Mexicanus

Day 97: "Well, hold still a second, willya?" Little Dipper was doing the happy dance on a partly submerged twig, flailing bits of grass against the water and bobbing at the knees as is typical for the species. I'm not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but every now and then, he'd stop his activity to stare intently into the water. Could this have been an example of a bird using a tool? I think he might have been trying to get insects to rise to the surface, and apparently with some success.

The American Dipper is also known as a Water Ouzel, although the older name is not often heard these days. While "Dipper" is certainly descriptive of his dance, this little bugger dives and swims like a Puffin, too! It's not uncommon to see them leap into a creek in the high country, disappear from sight and emerge a minute or more later upstream to perch on a rock, bob-bob-bobbing before taking another plunge. They're great fun to watch!