Trust

Day 267: And then there's this. The feeling I get when a wild bird places its trust in me is indescribable. I know I am privileged to have experienced it even once, but it repeats, and not with just one species. Chickadees can be coerced into taking food from a hand. Canada Jays ("Grey Jays") will land on your head if you're having a snack on the trail. There are some wild species who are more accepting of humans than others, but if you asked any birder or ornithologist, Evening Grosbeaks would not be on their list. Pine Siskins might be, but Purple Finches would not, and there's one female who watches very carefully from nearby when my little Grosbeak friend is having lunch: "If he can do it, maybe I could, too!" I can tell she's giving the idea serious consideration. As for the Grosbeak, he is completely comfortable. He didn't even mind that I had forgotten to turn off the flash on the little silver point-and-shoot I used to take these photos. And this is how I want my friends to remember me, if for nothing else: the woman who held birds.

The Woman Who Held Birds

Day 34: This is another first, and I'm not sure who was more surprised, me or the Dark-eyed Junco at finding that his new "feeder" was warm to the touch. This photo is actually the second one I took, and is possibly a second bird. I had the first shot framed to fit a Chickadee, and when the first Junco landed, the top of its head was off the edge of the image. This bird sat there for some time before choosing a seed, unlike the Chickadees who I call "sorters." The sorters tend to scatter seed until they've found one to their liking, but Junco was very thoughtful about the process. Now I have to say that while Chickadees are known for being friendly, not all birds are as accepting of humans, and Juncos are not a bird you'd expect to have come to your hand. I think that by observing the 'dees eating safely from my palm, the Juncos finally accepted that I was not a serious threat. Even so, I never expected one to go this far.

For the record, I would like to enumerate the wild bird species which have come to my hand: Canada Jays (hard to avoid contact in the backcountry!), a Clark's Nutcracker, a Rufous Hummingbird, Red-breasted Nuthatch, Pine Siskins, Black-capped and Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Dark-eyed Junco and perhaps the most emotional contact of all, an injured Evening Grosbeak who I nursed back to health and returned to the wild. On the day before his release, he held hands with me for a good thirty seconds. I told Kevin yesterday, "This is how I want you to remember me: the woman who held birds." He even took photos of me with a Pine Siskin friend.

What is the measure of wealth? Maybe you made a million dollars before you were forty. I barely scrape by, spending more on birdseed than I do on "people food." I would not trade this for your millions even if I was starving. I am rich beyond measure, because I am the Woman Who Held Birds.

Spot The Differences

 

Day 32: We have another milestone! The birders among my readership will have a distinct advantage over the rest of you in this game of "Spot the Differences" when I say that two of these objects are not like the others. Yes, today I made inroads with the Black-capped Chickadees after a trip to the grocery store meant that second breakfast was late. They mobbed me when I got home, trying to get at the seed in the coffee can I was carrying, attaching themselves to the front of my shirt and my sleeves, dive-bombing my hair. It had been a cold night, and they were convinced they were starving. The bulk of the welcoming committee was of course Chestnut-backed, but I was pleasantly surprised when two Black-cappeds, one right after the other, also accepted food from my fingers despite the fact that I was holding the shiny silver scary thing in my other hand. Even so, I got the requisite documentation. Can you spot the Black-cappeds in the crowd?

Getting Into Hand

Day 29: When the Evening Grosbeaks are here, they routinely come 'round to the shepherd's-hook in the front flower bed to glare at me when I'm on the computer and the feeder has gone empty. The hummers and 'dee-dees have also mastered getting my attention in the same way, and some of them will go so far as to tap on the window with their beaks if I don't happen to notice them in a timely manner. Late yesterday afternoon, one of the Nuthatches perched there for several minutes, and when I failed to respond promptly, he began a pattern of flying gently from the hook to beat his wings against the glass. It didn't matter that I was busy with something I didn't want to leave. No, I got up and filled the feeder. But it didn't end there. The bird didn't see that I'd put out more seed. When I sat back down at the computer, he again began fluttering against the window. This time, I went out, walked around to the front of the house with a handful of seed, stuck it right under his little beaky and then went and put it in the feeder. He followed me, now aware that I was doing my job. Just a few minutes ago, he (or another Nuthatch...I can't tell them apart) was at it again. "This is getting out of hand," I said, but I was wrong. I was very wrong. It wasn't getting OUT of hand. It was getting IN hand when I stepped out with the food. Nuthatch, for the first time ever, perched on my fingers and accepted seed from my palm. We've been working toward this for a long time, and I have to tell you, it brought tears to my eyes to be gifted with such trust.

'Dee-dee Season

 

Day 27: Although most of them are still shy about taking food from my hand, I strongly suspect that this 'dee-dee (Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Poecile rufescens) is a returnee with a good memory. He was perfectly content to sit there cracking seeds, and in fact wedged one in the crack between my fingers and proceeded to try to pound it open with his beak. It was all I could do not to wince or laugh as he drove the seed further and further into the gap. I can't say for sure whether he pushed it all the way through or not because I had my eyes averted (most critters view eye contact as a threat). As a sidebar here, I will say that I'm making progress with the Nuthatch. He is not yet confident, but flew to the hand close enough that a wing brushed my fingers. I've also had one Black-Capped Chickadee take food from my palm this fall. They are somewhat more shy than the Chessies about making contact.

Hand-fed Grosbeak

Day 245: Although they have so far been reluctant to come to my left hand when I have the point-and-shoot camera in my right, several Evening Grosbeaks (both males and females) have accepted seed either by remaining perched on the tray of the feeder while picking it up from my palm, or allowing me to lift them onto my fingers and down to a position which doesn't tax my shoulder muscles. One female may have imprinted on me as the Bringer of Food. She followed me across the road to the mailbox and back again, taking sunflower seeds from my hand for several minutes as I stood in the yard. This is a privilege few people experience. It's one thing to have a Canada Jay steal crackers during a hiking rest break, and a step up from that, to have Chickadees accept your offerings. To have a species less acclimatized to humans eat from your hand (and more than one individual!)...well, that's like finding a rare orchid in the Back of Beyond.