I remember it was on Saturday during Martin Luther King weekend two years ago. My wife came through the door, her excitement showing like a bright aura all around her. "I just saw the cutest little owl!" she beamed, The word "cute," can never be overused in our household, and is the quintessential compliment you can give to anything or anyone."
"Where was it?" I inquired with interest.
"At the Wells Fargo drive thru!"
"Why don't we go back and see it? It's probably a Western Screech Owl." It seemed like the likely choice. Elf Owls are only summer residents and burrowing owls, though present in other parts of Tucson, seemed never to make it to the northeast part of town. In fact, they had never even been recorded in the history of the Catalina Mountain Christmas Bird Count, which covers most of northeast Tucson.
As we drove into the drive thru lane I saw it, on the ground, and realized this was no screech owl.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Curve-billed Thrasher song
Today as I rode home along Woodland Road I was turned about by a melodic song. I turned around thinking at first of an Eastern Meadowlarks,"Spring of the year," melody, then realized it was the sweet repertoire of the Curve-billed Thrasher. This particular bird was belting out his sweet whistled harmony with great vocal force it felt like he was giving a concert for all neighborhood wildlife before they turned in for the night.
So many times I've been approached by neighbors or budding enthusiasts about a bird singing the sweetest of songs somewhere in their yard. They never think of this unassuming bird until I bring up the name to them. It is then they realize they have had a Curve-billed Thrasher in their yard, but are more familiar with their,"Wheat-wheat," call. I also have a close connection with this bird from an event over 10 years ago, when Kino was still in his first year.
I was walking puppy Kino by the big pond when I noticed a group of Great-tailed Grackles harassing another bird in mid-air over the middle of the lake. The bird was forced into the water, where it flapped furiously toward the shore in a desperate attempt to reach land before its feathers became heavy with water. I watched with great concern while running with Kino toward the other side of the lake, where the shoreline pushed further into the lake. As I reached the far shore it was obvious the bird was losing its battle for its precious life. In fact, it was still in the middle, and now only flapped occasionally, obviously exhausted.
Now this lake isn't meant for swimming, especially in late November, but I stripped down and told Kino he would have to have his, "off the leash lesson a little early." Luckily it unseasonably warm that day and the water was not too cold as I waded toward the bird. Kino looked at me with disbelief and horror as he yelped, pleading for me to stop this insanity. Twenty yards later I was almost to the thrasher when the strangest thing happened-he actually flapped over to my shoulder and climbed on. Was it desperation or an uncommon trust between humanity and nature? Later, when I called the wildlife rehabilitation hot line they seemed equally astonished, and even inquired as to whether the bird could have been a pet, which was out of the question.
Despite swimming with caution, the thrasher kept being washed off my shoulder, so I held him cupped gently in one hand, held high over the water, using the other three limbs to get back to shore. Kino was very relieved and curious, but seemed to know the urgency of the situation. I wrapped the helpless bird in a shirt, and walked briskly to the house, where we kept him overnight in safety, while he dried out (as per the recommendation of the helpline). The next day we released him.
The next year we had our first known nesters in our yard, 2 Curve-billed Thrashers in a cholla in our front yard. I love to listen to their long, sweet, whistled, joyful melody, a song which can compete side by side with the Common Loon's famous nightly melody.
Putting out no-melt suet or peanuts can attract Curve-billed Thrashers to your yard, although they are generalists and can eat most bird foods. I like to use nut-flavored suet personally. They like to use their deeply curved bills to flick leaf litter as they search for insects, a fun sight to watch. Planting cholla will also attract this sweet bird, as well as Cactus Wrens for nesting. In fact, they may even alternate in the same nest! Since both species are year-round inhabitants you could see over 3 clutches each year.
Thank you for appreciating our amazing neighborhood wildlife.
So many times I've been approached by neighbors or budding enthusiasts about a bird singing the sweetest of songs somewhere in their yard. They never think of this unassuming bird until I bring up the name to them. It is then they realize they have had a Curve-billed Thrasher in their yard, but are more familiar with their,"Wheat-wheat," call. I also have a close connection with this bird from an event over 10 years ago, when Kino was still in his first year.
I was walking puppy Kino by the big pond when I noticed a group of Great-tailed Grackles harassing another bird in mid-air over the middle of the lake. The bird was forced into the water, where it flapped furiously toward the shore in a desperate attempt to reach land before its feathers became heavy with water. I watched with great concern while running with Kino toward the other side of the lake, where the shoreline pushed further into the lake. As I reached the far shore it was obvious the bird was losing its battle for its precious life. In fact, it was still in the middle, and now only flapped occasionally, obviously exhausted.
Now this lake isn't meant for swimming, especially in late November, but I stripped down and told Kino he would have to have his, "off the leash lesson a little early." Luckily it unseasonably warm that day and the water was not too cold as I waded toward the bird. Kino looked at me with disbelief and horror as he yelped, pleading for me to stop this insanity. Twenty yards later I was almost to the thrasher when the strangest thing happened-he actually flapped over to my shoulder and climbed on. Was it desperation or an uncommon trust between humanity and nature? Later, when I called the wildlife rehabilitation hot line they seemed equally astonished, and even inquired as to whether the bird could have been a pet, which was out of the question.
Despite swimming with caution, the thrasher kept being washed off my shoulder, so I held him cupped gently in one hand, held high over the water, using the other three limbs to get back to shore. Kino was very relieved and curious, but seemed to know the urgency of the situation. I wrapped the helpless bird in a shirt, and walked briskly to the house, where we kept him overnight in safety, while he dried out (as per the recommendation of the helpline). The next day we released him.
The next year we had our first known nesters in our yard, 2 Curve-billed Thrashers in a cholla in our front yard. I love to listen to their long, sweet, whistled, joyful melody, a song which can compete side by side with the Common Loon's famous nightly melody.
Putting out no-melt suet or peanuts can attract Curve-billed Thrashers to your yard, although they are generalists and can eat most bird foods. I like to use nut-flavored suet personally. They like to use their deeply curved bills to flick leaf litter as they search for insects, a fun sight to watch. Planting cholla will also attract this sweet bird, as well as Cactus Wrens for nesting. In fact, they may even alternate in the same nest! Since both species are year-round inhabitants you could see over 3 clutches each year.
Thank you for appreciating our amazing neighborhood wildlife.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Friday the 13th bicycle drama
Hello again, although this post is not exactly nature related I do make a bird reference toward the end. I guess I could also make a correlation between the way vehicles view bicycles and the way humans view animals much smaller than themselves, such as ants and insects. I am as much at fault for this perception as anyone, but perhaps this incident will help foster a better understanding for myself at least when it comes to the importance of all wildlife.
When the Laws of Physics Don't Apply
It was a particularly ominous Friday the 13, one that refused to be laughed off as mere superstition. One of our team members had just gotten out of ICU after a week and another friend and coworker had just received unpleasant medical news as well. The office atmosphere was gloomy at best, and although clear skies were outside, it seemed everyone was in a dense fog which no humor could dissapate. I was relieved to be out as I pedaled toward home. It had been a rough couple months in general, and I was actually surprised this day had not hit me directly as well, unless you count the disadvantageous timing of stop lights.
I was only a few miles away and pedaling downhill toward major stoplight at Sabino Canyon and Tanque Verde. I glanced left and the reality of the sight I saw brought my world to a grinding halt. It was a Toyota Tundra, making a left turn across 3 lanes into the shopping lot driveway just in front of my bike. Even if he saw me and tried to stop now it would be too late, and speeding up or braking couldn't prevent the inevitable fact that our paths would soon meet . It was like a classic math problem, "If a Toyota Tundra is traveling at 25 mpht toward a driveway, and a bike is traveling at 18 mph perpendicularly toward the same driveway, which part of the bumper will the bicyclist hit, assuming the truck doesn't change speed and the bicyclist brakes at ??? feet per second." Either way I was about to become a hood ornament.
So I let go of thought and let instinct take over. In fact, it took hours for me to recollect the events as they unfolded, and I still don't know some answers. The rundown looks something like this;
My first task was to avoid the bumper at all costs. He wasn't slowing down and didn't even see me or my bike until afterward (sun was in his eyes). I applied the back and front brakes at once. Miraculously the front bumper passed by first but I was still scheduled for a head-on into the side of the vehicle. My only chance to buy time was to lock the front tire. If the front tire made contact, I would lose all control of my fate. My front wheel locked just before the great beast, and the back wheel began its vertical ascent, sending me toward the passenger door. I raised myself vertically to buy more time for it to pass, but it seemed he was actually slowing now that he was out of traffic lanes.
Life slowed to a crawl as I realized contact was inevitable. As I launched over the handle bars I turned my left shoulder in to receive the first blow, It hit, then slid down, and I could feel it scrape down the front part of the large back tire. My head would land just in front. I figured it may be too late but pushed out with my elbow so my head could be further right, hoping the elbow would be the only part sacrificed. I had already resigned myself to my fate.
I lay face down in the middle of the driveway, arms out, for a minute or two, assessing my injuries and hoping no other vehicles would turn in. In one part of my mind it had seemed my arm had been run over but there was no physical evidence. As I finally stood four streams began from one of my knees, but I don't even remember how they got cut or banged up. My shoulders and wrist were sore, but mostly I just some minor cuts and bruising.
Somebody called 911 and a fire truck came. The driver of the Tundra brought napkins for my knees and offered a ride, but it seemed strange to accept a ride from someone who nearly ran you down minutes earlier. I did use his phone to call Joni for a ride when she returned from work, and half expected her to pass by while we were there. She and her friend Tonya got to the house through another route. They were just remarking how lucky they were not to have taken Tanque Verde home since the radio had reported an accident at Tanque Verde and Sabino Canyon. "We beat the bullet on that one," Tonya remarked as Joni glanced at the phone, noticing a message. "I wonder why Brian's not home yet?" You could say I beat the bullet too.
So it's good to know, even if you've studied in the best schools, that even physics laws can be broken, that and in fact they're only rules. Whether you're a hummingbird crossing the gulf, or a bicyclist avoiding the Tundra, you can make it across, and the truck may just stun ya! Especially if you're out riding on Friday the 13th!
When the Laws of Physics Don't Apply
It was a particularly ominous Friday the 13, one that refused to be laughed off as mere superstition. One of our team members had just gotten out of ICU after a week and another friend and coworker had just received unpleasant medical news as well. The office atmosphere was gloomy at best, and although clear skies were outside, it seemed everyone was in a dense fog which no humor could dissapate. I was relieved to be out as I pedaled toward home. It had been a rough couple months in general, and I was actually surprised this day had not hit me directly as well, unless you count the disadvantageous timing of stop lights.
I was only a few miles away and pedaling downhill toward major stoplight at Sabino Canyon and Tanque Verde. I glanced left and the reality of the sight I saw brought my world to a grinding halt. It was a Toyota Tundra, making a left turn across 3 lanes into the shopping lot driveway just in front of my bike. Even if he saw me and tried to stop now it would be too late, and speeding up or braking couldn't prevent the inevitable fact that our paths would soon meet . It was like a classic math problem, "If a Toyota Tundra is traveling at 25 mpht toward a driveway, and a bike is traveling at 18 mph perpendicularly toward the same driveway, which part of the bumper will the bicyclist hit, assuming the truck doesn't change speed and the bicyclist brakes at ??? feet per second." Either way I was about to become a hood ornament.
So I let go of thought and let instinct take over. In fact, it took hours for me to recollect the events as they unfolded, and I still don't know some answers. The rundown looks something like this;
My first task was to avoid the bumper at all costs. He wasn't slowing down and didn't even see me or my bike until afterward (sun was in his eyes). I applied the back and front brakes at once. Miraculously the front bumper passed by first but I was still scheduled for a head-on into the side of the vehicle. My only chance to buy time was to lock the front tire. If the front tire made contact, I would lose all control of my fate. My front wheel locked just before the great beast, and the back wheel began its vertical ascent, sending me toward the passenger door. I raised myself vertically to buy more time for it to pass, but it seemed he was actually slowing now that he was out of traffic lanes.
Life slowed to a crawl as I realized contact was inevitable. As I launched over the handle bars I turned my left shoulder in to receive the first blow, It hit, then slid down, and I could feel it scrape down the front part of the large back tire. My head would land just in front. I figured it may be too late but pushed out with my elbow so my head could be further right, hoping the elbow would be the only part sacrificed. I had already resigned myself to my fate.
I lay face down in the middle of the driveway, arms out, for a minute or two, assessing my injuries and hoping no other vehicles would turn in. In one part of my mind it had seemed my arm had been run over but there was no physical evidence. As I finally stood four streams began from one of my knees, but I don't even remember how they got cut or banged up. My shoulders and wrist were sore, but mostly I just some minor cuts and bruising.
Somebody called 911 and a fire truck came. The driver of the Tundra brought napkins for my knees and offered a ride, but it seemed strange to accept a ride from someone who nearly ran you down minutes earlier. I did use his phone to call Joni for a ride when she returned from work, and half expected her to pass by while we were there. She and her friend Tonya got to the house through another route. They were just remarking how lucky they were not to have taken Tanque Verde home since the radio had reported an accident at Tanque Verde and Sabino Canyon. "We beat the bullet on that one," Tonya remarked as Joni glanced at the phone, noticing a message. "I wonder why Brian's not home yet?" You could say I beat the bullet too.
So it's good to know, even if you've studied in the best schools, that even physics laws can be broken, that and in fact they're only rules. Whether you're a hummingbird crossing the gulf, or a bicyclist avoiding the Tundra, you can make it across, and the truck may just stun ya! Especially if you're out riding on Friday the 13th!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
CBC 2011 Count Week
Every year in December I get so excited..not so much for Christmas, but for the Christmas Bird Count. This event occurs around the world, and I am lucky enough to participate in about a four mile by one mile stretch which includes my neighborhood. I take a week off from work to prepare for the count, and to find "count week," birds which are included as supplemental birds if not seen on count day. To be included in this category the bird must be seen within three days of the count, before or after.
The day before the count started I took a gamble on finding one of the most difficult, and most exciting, birds for the count. I had discovered it once before during count week about 8 years earlier, the first time it was recorded for this count "circle,' since its inception over 80 years ago. Even more interesting is the fact that this species is an owl, the Long-eared Owl to be exact. It can hide just by standing erect on a branch, letting its thin shape, tree-bark like plumage, and long ear tufts turn it into a broken off limb from a tree branch. In fact, one may even wonder if thick barked trees could be the descendant of this owl which seems to blend into his surroundings so well. My best hope for finding this master of camouflage would be to hope for habitual behavior on using roosting sites.
As I walked down the narrow path through the mesquite bosque I tried to relax and remove expectations while opening up my perception of the natural world surrounding me. Still, as I neared the bend toward the old roost I turned on my video camera to be ready for anything. His roost would be just right of the trail and within ten feet of it. As I turned the corner my eyes scoured the dead branches of its roost tree and found...nothing.
I was disappointed. I calmed my thoughts and reminded myself that the probability had been slim at best. I then sent a mental thought that I hoped that my friend over the years was at least doing fine, wherever he may be.
Then I turned left and noticed something out of place just above eye level just fifteen feet away. It was him, his slim appearance, facial markings, and vertical notched barring on his chest making it official. My camera slowly raised to my eyes as I documented my excitement on film, if only for a few seconds. Then I moved away and out of sight, silently thanking my friend for showing his presence, and glad to see him doing well after all these years.
The day before the count started I took a gamble on finding one of the most difficult, and most exciting, birds for the count. I had discovered it once before during count week about 8 years earlier, the first time it was recorded for this count "circle,' since its inception over 80 years ago. Even more interesting is the fact that this species is an owl, the Long-eared Owl to be exact. It can hide just by standing erect on a branch, letting its thin shape, tree-bark like plumage, and long ear tufts turn it into a broken off limb from a tree branch. In fact, one may even wonder if thick barked trees could be the descendant of this owl which seems to blend into his surroundings so well. My best hope for finding this master of camouflage would be to hope for habitual behavior on using roosting sites.
As I walked down the narrow path through the mesquite bosque I tried to relax and remove expectations while opening up my perception of the natural world surrounding me. Still, as I neared the bend toward the old roost I turned on my video camera to be ready for anything. His roost would be just right of the trail and within ten feet of it. As I turned the corner my eyes scoured the dead branches of its roost tree and found...nothing.
I was disappointed. I calmed my thoughts and reminded myself that the probability had been slim at best. I then sent a mental thought that I hoped that my friend over the years was at least doing fine, wherever he may be.
Then I turned left and noticed something out of place just above eye level just fifteen feet away. It was him, his slim appearance, facial markings, and vertical notched barring on his chest making it official. My camera slowly raised to my eyes as I documented my excitement on film, if only for a few seconds. Then I moved away and out of sight, silently thanking my friend for showing his presence, and glad to see him doing well after all these years.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)