I Love Spring
Now, I am a person with a penchant for hyperbole, as you may know. That is if you have ever spent more than 3 minutes with me. Well, to say that I love spring, doesn’t come close to accurately describing the feeling that I get when I sit here on the front porch at 7 in the morning listening to a White Crowned Sparrow and Song Sparrow compete for my attention.
I wish I could write or draw or sing the songs they sing to give you an idea of variety and joy. But I can’t. You’ll just have to go to the website and listen for yourself, or better yet, go outside and drink your coffee on your back deck, before you rush off to send the children to school. Listen, he’ll sing for you.
Lately, my enthusiasm for birds in particular has been pointed out as something perhaps unique. Not in my family, and frankly, I have been surprised at the lack-luster response to the Ivory Billed Woodpeckers return from the great abyss. However, to give my dear friends, neighbors and strangers credit, several have told me they saw the pictures on the TV of the IBW, and seemed to think it was newsworthy.
J and E even were (acted?) excited when I downloaded the video for them and patiently waited while the dial-up showed them the crappy feed of the poor quality footage of the new discovery. Bless them.
But last night, I was humbled by my friend whom I’ll call Mike. The man, with an MBA loves the critters o’ creation. He named every swan on the planet, knew nearly as much about the Ivory Billed Woodpecker as those of us obsessed with such things, and had a strange fascination with water buffalo.
He saw a baby beaver at Meadowbrook with it’s mama teaching it to swim. It apparently made him happy for a week. This is a man to admire.
Aphids have a new charm for me. Given that previously they had none, I suppose a “new charm” would be a misnomer. There is a plum tree right in front of my porch that gives me and my neighbors, both human and avian, great joy. People seem drawn to the flowers that are now little olive looking plums. Birds, specifically the Bushtit, like to eat the blossoms of the flowers, and now like to eat the aphids who are sucking the life out of the leaves. The Chickadees like to use it as a staging ground to access the feeder. At least one Chickadee seems particularly found of the peanuts in the mix. Funny.
Last night, with my friend whom I am still calling Sylvia, and I were musing on the names of flora and fauna with names that are, well, embarrassing.
I am starting a list:
Bushtit, Titmouse, Bluetit, Coaltit, Nipplewort. Beaver. I am waiting for the Beaver Rumped Titwort to come on the scene.
I wish I could write or draw or sing the songs they sing to give you an idea of variety and joy. But I can’t. You’ll just have to go to the website and listen for yourself, or better yet, go outside and drink your coffee on your back deck, before you rush off to send the children to school. Listen, he’ll sing for you.
Lately, my enthusiasm for birds in particular has been pointed out as something perhaps unique. Not in my family, and frankly, I have been surprised at the lack-luster response to the Ivory Billed Woodpeckers return from the great abyss. However, to give my dear friends, neighbors and strangers credit, several have told me they saw the pictures on the TV of the IBW, and seemed to think it was newsworthy.
J and E even were (acted?) excited when I downloaded the video for them and patiently waited while the dial-up showed them the crappy feed of the poor quality footage of the new discovery. Bless them.
But last night, I was humbled by my friend whom I’ll call Mike. The man, with an MBA loves the critters o’ creation. He named every swan on the planet, knew nearly as much about the Ivory Billed Woodpecker as those of us obsessed with such things, and had a strange fascination with water buffalo.
He saw a baby beaver at Meadowbrook with it’s mama teaching it to swim. It apparently made him happy for a week. This is a man to admire.
Aphids have a new charm for me. Given that previously they had none, I suppose a “new charm” would be a misnomer. There is a plum tree right in front of my porch that gives me and my neighbors, both human and avian, great joy. People seem drawn to the flowers that are now little olive looking plums. Birds, specifically the Bushtit, like to eat the blossoms of the flowers, and now like to eat the aphids who are sucking the life out of the leaves. The Chickadees like to use it as a staging ground to access the feeder. At least one Chickadee seems particularly found of the peanuts in the mix. Funny.
Last night, with my friend whom I am still calling Sylvia, and I were musing on the names of flora and fauna with names that are, well, embarrassing.
I am starting a list:
Bushtit, Titmouse, Bluetit, Coaltit, Nipplewort. Beaver. I am waiting for the Beaver Rumped Titwort to come on the scene.
posted by SA at 8:44 AM
2 Comments:
Sibley's Birding Basics describes how to illustrate birdsongs with dashes. It does not do justice to the real thing though.
What about the Great tit? And the Boobalicious teenager? (One of those is a real bird)
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