In a garden gone wild

Bright colour, on foot, wing and stem ...

The front yard


Poppies


Green leaf, yellow, gold and black fly


On the pear tree, a pale orange snail


Red peony


Nine-spotted ladybug


Spotless ladybug, a different species.


Purple iris, with California poppies in the background


Orange flower with black fly


Blue: a drowned spider with unripe fruit (pear?) in a children's pool. The red circles around damaged spots on the fruit must be some sort of fungus.


Yellow and mauve in the centre of an iris.

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Cook wanted?

"Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?" Someone hidden in a dark stand of evergreens really wanted to know. A barred owl! And maybe, with the voice to guide us, we could find it.

We followed the sound, slowly, stopping often to get a bearing on the call. We were about to give up, when we saw the two owlets, sitting silently far above our heads.


The pair, nicely posed.


This one was a bit more active; the greyer one stayed huddled by the trunk. But they were both very interested in us; at first, this one bounced back and forth, as if trying to get a clearer view. Finally, it just settled down to watch.

According to the Owl Foundation, the young owls begin to leave the nest around 4 weeks of age, first one, then a few days later, the next. I would imagine, by this, that the one close to the trunk is probably a bit younger, and a bit timid yet.

The neck markings (cross-wise stripes) are clearly visible, and the breast stripes (vertical stripes) are just beginning to show. The head will be the last to develop adult feathers; now it almost looks as if it were wrapped in a soft baby blanket.

The adult was no longer calling. The little wood was quiet, except for the subdued clicking of our cameras.

10 minutes went by, a quarter-hour, maybe, while we tried to focus the cameras through the branches. Then, suddenly, both owlets lost interest: something was happening off to one side.




Mommy was coming!


I thought maybe she had come to feed them, but I was mistaken. She nuzzled little Brownie's ear.

These owlets didn't scream for food, nor even open their beaks, the way other young birds do; they sat still and silent on their branch the whole time.


The nuzzling was vigorous. I had to laugh; Brownie has the same pained look that a little boy gets when his parents wash his face.

After she left, Brownie did a little exultant dance for us, flapping wings, turning on the branch and fluffing up his feathers. He still made no sound.



And now, we found the mother's perch, high on a tree behind us.


She watched us until we left.
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Party at Uncle Merl's! (I and the Bird # 76)

Hi! And welcome to our "Beginning of the Season – Victoria Day – It's Not Raining Day" Garden Party and Potluck! Glad you could make it! Come on in, join the fun; there are tons of people here already, birders all!

(Yes, I know Victoria Day was last week, but everybody was at the park or watching the parade then; besides, you were busy, weren't you?) So I'll just show you where you can leave your jacket, … in here … and then we can go out back and I'll show you around, introduce a few of the people. ... Ready? Out this side door, then. We just follow this little trail under the trees for a bit.

Oh, look, here's Island, scoping out a Red Breasted Nuthatch nest; Hi, Island! Beautiful bird! But we'll tiptoe on past and leave you to your photography. See you at supper later!

Out of the trees, and here's the garden. A bit on the wild side, but an excellent birding spot. On this side, there's a tiny creek and a bit of a pond. And there's the Ridger from The Greenbelt, photographing May birds; look at those cute goslings!

Up against the house, here on the patio, are the edibles. Buffet over here … bar over there … at the far corner, the BBQs. Lots of comfortable chairs. And Rob, resting after a good hike. Stop by in a bit, and he'll tell you an exciting tale of a trip in Yellowstone Park. Ospreys, Sandhill cranes, a wolf hunt, and … but I'll let him tell it.

And here's Duncan, discussing the intelligence of ravens, and the origins of the saying, Stone the crows!. Hey, Duncan, if you'd been dive-bombed by crows because you were supposedly invading their territory, you might think that was a good idea. But they are smart, I'll give you that.

At the bottom of the garden, standing by the rhododendrons, that's Hugh, of Rock, Paper, Lizard. He's probably listening to the birds. The other day, he was asking, Who's singing at the park? What bird says, "cow-cow-cow-cowp"? I didn't know. Now I do.

Ok, what else? Over there, down that trail, is the staircase to the beach, 'way below us. I saw Cis heading down a while ago; it's a long haul, but she's quite the walker. Ask her, when she gets back, to show you her photos of a pair of Gray Jays.

And now, the house. Did I tell you about the house? No? I hardly know what to say; I was flabbergasted when the lawyer told me about it. I just inherited it from my uncle, Professor (and mad scientist, really) Merlin J. Featherbottomley. It's a moldering ruin, mostly; he's been living here alone for over 50 years. But we've managed to clean and refinish the lower floor, so if (or I should say, when) it rains, we'll have shelter. It's basically empty; we'd have to bring the outside chairs in.

Come on in, through the patio doors; I'll show you.

Well, here's Amila, of Gallicissa! I wondered where he'd got to. Oh, you're setting up your photos along the wall there! Good idea! What colours! What names! And you've labelled the display: Birds in my local patch. Certainly exotic for us, though.

And the rest of you; now I see what you're doing! You're turning the room into a gallery of bird photos. Oh, marvellous!

Let's see, here are Troy and Martha, with tips on ID'ing Short-billed dowitchers. Very useful. And Liza with a bird report from Albion trip, complete with a bird-watching seal. And this is Pam, of Tortoise Trail, with a Yellow-eyed Junco on Mt. Lemmon. Great photos; and such a nice idea, putting them up like that!

We'll be back to look at the rest of the photos in a minute or two, but first, let me show you… down this hall, this is Uncle Merl's old laboratory. We've left his workbenches in place; they were pretty solid still. Oh, hi, Zen! Already hard at work? What are you doing?

Oh, I get it. Testing the effect of a hammer hitting a tree at 13mph. Better a hammer head than a bird head, anyhow. Unless that bird is a woodpecker, eh?

Uncle Merl was studying seagulls here; he was certain that they were extremely intelligent, and he spent a lifetime trying to teach them to nest in "proper" boxes so that he could observe their care of the chicks. Not much luck, I'm afraid. I don't think they were interested.

One of Uncle Merl's photos

That reminds me; Seabrooke had photos of Barn Swallows building their nest; I wonder if she brought them along? What, Zen? Around the corner in the study? Oh, thanks! And here she is; look! Seabrooke's photo series, A mouthful of mud!

And this is Adrian from the Bird Ecology Study Group putting up photos of hard-working Black-naped Monarch parents incubating, feeding and … potty training?

I see, you guys are setting up a bird-nest exhibition! Oh, this is great!

Here's Nina, with a partly-sad, partly-hopeful story in two parts: Not a pretty picture and 1...2...3 Chickadee...dee...dee.

And over here by the window, this is Max. Hi, Max! Still not raining! We might just get used to it. What do you have here under Spring Emergences? A humming-bird nest? And flocking starling nestlings! (You know, I think they're a beautiful bird! Beautiful the way purple loosestrife is beautiful. Or Japanese knotweed.)

Look, Snail brings us an edifice that dwarfs all other bird structures. And, yes, I believe you, Snail, but … but … are you sure? Your Orange-footed renovators really do that? Wow!

Uncle Merl would have liked this one: Burrowing Owls - Will They Survive In North America?. Larry tells of buried nest boxes. For birds that live in burrows, of course.

We seem to be missing one of our guests; let's leave these people to their work, and see if we can find him.

Back to the hallway again; there's the foyer where you came in, the walk-in closet, the side door, the washrooms, the kitchen. That's about it. Oh, the stairs? We haven't refinished up there, yet; it's just a bunch of empty rooms. Come to think of it, though, I saw PetMonologues going upstairs with a flock of birds and a camera; he said something about doing a video for Sex and the Single Bird. "Birds do it", he said.

Oh, and I'd totally forgotten Greg. He's probably still in here, in the sound-proofed room where Uncle Merl analyzed seagull mating calls. Let's see ... Still working, Greg? Good for you, but it's party time! Come on out and get a drink before supper!

Greg's reporting on enigmatic sex ratios in a nearly extinct bird, the Magenta Petrels. I hope they can bring them back from the brink.

Anyhow, I'm looking for N8, of The Drinking Bird; he has a report on a pelagic outing, Slippery when wet. Poor guy, he gets so terribly seasick. And he got drenched, as well. All in a good day's birding, though! Oh, there he is, down on the landing, looking at the water. Come on, we'll get you a drink on the way … what'll you have? … and he can tell you about the Storm-petrels.

The landing, looking out to sea

And I've got to run; I hear another car in the driveway. It's probably Charlie, just in from his South Africa trip. He's bringing photos from the Zaagkiuldrift gravel road, the road to Kgomo-kgomo. I bet I pronounced that wrong.

So I'll leave you to your own devices now. Make yourself at home!

Hey, I almost forgot; this travelling house party and potluck will be over at Great Auk - or Greatest Auk? in two weeks, the 12^th of June. If you have some goodies to bring, give Carrie a shout at labenc AT gmail DOT com by the 10^th.
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Owlets!

Seen in Bear Creek Park, this afternoon.

More on these later.
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And Baby makes Three

At my window yesterday afternoon:

House finches

Very new, very trembly chick.

I'm hungry, Mommy!
(Note: he'd barely had time to swallow a big mouthful. Like a little kid; wants "one in dis hand, one in dis hand, and one in me mouf.")

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Sand and sky and red sorrel

The sky was an ever-changing glory over Boundary Bay a couple of days ago. I couldn't decide which photo was the best to share with you, so I just have to give you half a dozen.

On the dunes, red sorrel on sand. Looking northeast.


Silence, except for the crunch of our shoes on sand.


A few inches of water bring the sky right back to our feet.




Mount Olympus, over the border in the US, catching the last glimmer of sunlight.


Time to head home.

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Sanctuary? Sorry!

This moth flew in my open door this evening.


He perched on my wall, high up near the ceiling. I climbed on the desk and took his portrait.

Note: there is a bit of damage on the wing, and one antenna is truncated. He's survived an attack, maybe. Some bird missed the meal he was hoping for.

I captured him with a recycled plastic tub, and put a sheet of glass over the open top.


The old plastic makes for a misty atmosphere.

I tried putting the light behind him.


Sort of an X-ray effect. I love the detail on these wings; if you click on the photo, you can appreciate the fringe of feathers along the scalloped bottom edge.


No, he's not flying. I took this through the glass, looking down at him perched on the wall of the container. His reflection is bigger than he is because of the curve of the tub wall.

And then I took him to the door and released him into the big, dark, dangerous world out there. Sorry, fella.
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Squirrelly Antics

A couple of weeks ago, I had company:


First, a squirrel kit, presumably one of Scruffy's. It was snuffling around my patio, looking for goodies. When it saw me inside the door, it scooted behind my supplies cart, and finished off its sunflower seed there, keeping a watchful eye on me through a gap.

I took a couple of photos and got out of range, so as not to ruin his meal. The next time I looked out, there were two of them.


Twins! Scruffy Jr. and Little Scruff.

I opened the door, very slowly, reached out an arm and dropped a handful of seeds, hoping to entice them closer. They ran away, but were soon back; what squirrel can resist sunflower seeds?


They ate the whole handful. First the more distant (relatively) seeds, then the not-quite-so-far ones. They came closer ...

See the pink noses? They're still nursing.

... and closer ...


And inside, I crawled up to the door, one inch at a time, then eased it open until I could hold the camera outside, barely 18 inches away from the babies ...


The first one I had seen was much more cautious, or more responsible; while Little Scruff ate and ate and ate, oblivious to me and my camera, Junior stood guard, eating whenever I wasn't moving.

Every so often, Junior would pick up a seed and Little Scruff would snatch it from him. Then they both squealed (tiny, squeaking cries I could barely hear) and tussled for a moment. Little Scruff always won these arguments.

They haven't been back, not when I was watching. But I have seen them at odd moments, running across the lawn; Laurie saw one in the church parking lot next door.

Today, at the end of the lawn, a crow was standing watching something under the rhododendrons, something moving erratically only a few crow steps away. I couldn't see what it was; there was just a blur.

From closer up, it looked to be about football-sized, but it was thrashing around so wildly that I couldn't get bearings on it. Bird captured by a rat and fighting? Snake and baby squirrel? Squirrel having a seizure? Poisoned squirrel? That last seemed entirely too possible. Whatever was going on, the presence of that crow hadn't worried the sufferer.

I came a bit closer. The crow left. The convulsions continued. Finally, a breather. A baby grey squirrel sat up, holding something brownish and limp. Then he attacked it again, writhing and biting. It reminded me now, of kittens at play. I went back for the camera.


I snapped a photo, took one step, snapped another, took another step, ... Most of the photos were blurrier than this one. A kitten "killing" an old rag.


Another brief pause for breath. Then, back to the fray.

I got too close. The kit scampered off. And so did I.

When I came home in the evening, I looked for the rag. It was still there, a bit farther away from the rhodos. It is an old, ragged dishrag. Very dead.
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Beauty break. Better than coffee.

Is the earth spinning faster than it used to? It sure seems that way. Here it is Thursday morning, and I swear that only yesterday it was Monday.

Or is it that I've been buried in work? Could be.

I took a tiny break yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon to inspect my garden. The plants have been busy, too; see what they've produced!

New pink columbine blooms among the greenery.


Lily of the valley. They always remind me of my grandmother. She had lily of the valley patterned china.


I've forgotten, for the moment, what these are. I'll know in a day or two, when they are fully open.


London Pride, up close.


And out on the lawn, English daisies.

And now, for a nap, and -- back to the salt mines.

Lucky me.
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I and the Bird # 76 call for submissions

I'm finally taking the plunge!

Rather worried-looking sparrow on my hedge.

I have been a fairly regular contributor to the bi-weekly carnival, I and the Bird for some time. Now, with much trepidation, and 10 badly chewed fingernails, I will be hosting the carnival next week.

Do you love birds and the people who watch them? Do you watch birds and love to blog about it? Welcome to I and the Bird, a carnival for bloggers who love birds.

I and the Bird is a carnival celebrating the interaction of human and avian, an ongoing exploration of the endless fascination with birdlife all around the world. It is also a biweekly showcase of the best bird writing on the web published on alternating Thursdays.

Previous posters have done a superb job. Last week's presenter, Amila, at Gallicisa, even has prizes! (If you haven't already checked it out, go on over now. As soon as you've taken down my email, because I do hope you will be sending me a great bird post.)

Here's the place to send your latest and bestest bird post: e-mail the link to me at susannah AT dccnet DOT com before the 27th of May. And if you have never contributed before, now is the time!

White-crowned sparrow at my door.

*Edited to add:

I see from the first comment, that I didn't make it clear enough; bird photos are great, but this isn't all about the photos. If you have watched birds, thought about birds, read about birds, fed, rescued, missed, housed birds, etc., etc., and blogged about it, "I and the Bird" is the place for you. Photos are optional.
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