Winter Gatherings

Here at Hidden Lake a brisk snowfall gently dropped a small accumulation across a white-to-black melting landscape showing a backdrop of black tree trunks and a winding ribbon of dark gray water, curving between lighter gray ice packs and shore-lined edges of disappearing white.
As the accumulation became difficult to ignore on our deck, all the reds and grays and browns of various birds were a frenzy of feathers all wanting the choice pieces of black sunflower seeds scattered by hand and foot across the wood. 
The green small suet feeder hanging from an outside corner of our dining room cedar siding was a choice hub of pounding as well. Whichever bird has the longest bill also stays on the suet as four other species of woodpeckers await their turn after the Northern Flicker has its fill first and then flies away.
Next in line is that wonderful winter rarity: the Red-headed woodpecker. Only one of the two redheads who came regularly every day together comes alone now and often just minutes before complete darkness here after 6pm. Where does the singular beauty of this individual go all these long cold nights?
Out in the open water a lone male Mute swan spends his almost his entire day making sure all the honking Canada geese make their stay here a temporary one, chasing one and then another in low aerial circuits past our shore and around the lake in wide oval circles. What endurance to keep this going the entire day and even into the nighttime hours. After doing so, he often lands with a long skid across the ice and into the open water. I rather think he enjoys it all!
Today a large white-capped and brown bird stood alone on an ice edge, plunging with talons stretched into the dark surface water, attempting to grab an obvious morsel. The Bald eagle is not a common visitor here but I believe it comes more often than I suppose.  After sitting at the ice's edge for a short while, up come those 6 foot wings and with some effortless beats the majestic bird wings up and down the lake's edge into a large overhanging oak tree.
Also along the ever changing edge between ice and water comes a new threesome of finely detailed white, brown,black, and tan colored duck, all with feathered hoods raised as if in a show of prideful beauty. These are Hooded mergansers. Two males vying for the attention of one other not so generously colored. They circle her to show off and she tries to get around them. I first spotted their winter gathering yesterday.

Don't Forget to Feed the Birds!

Another gray February day, Groundhog Day?  Who cares?  Everyone feeds on consumer superficiality, yeah. Just a pretense for more insecurity about where life is taking you, and it is taking you directly forward, like riding a bicycle, moving those petals around and around to take you somewhere though you may like going in circles too, less adventurous but more comforting.

I'm here at my kitchen table in early morning hours waiting for another glimpse of  a rare winter visitor to my feeders, a Red-headed woodpecker no less. I haven't seen a single one since moving to my hidden lake retreat two months and a year ago. But one suddenly showed up about a week ago and has been a regular here almost single day since I first laid eyes on its dramatic few colors. What a beautiful bird!

At 9:53 I was shocked out of my decaffeinated coffee drinking by the sudden sighting of not one, but TWO, yes TWO Red-heads on MY deck!  I was overcome with staring at them. One flew off the suet feeder and the other woodpecker followed in chase. One left for good, while the other began exploring the upper limbs of our giant lakeside willow tree. Then it would come back and forth to a large shallow bowl of sunflower seeds I placed on top of one of our deck posts. The red, black, and white beauty comes into the bowl over and over again.

12:12pm-guess what?  Both RED heads are back!  Amazing, and they're not chasing each other in this freezing weather. One of the woodpeckers has some grayish head feathers instead of red around the eyes, and the other is totally red-headed. A mated pair from this year, one adult and one youngster? One male, one female, or two of each? Who knows by their behavior? But its all good, I'm here, they're here and everything seems at peace now. So don't forget to feed the birds!

A Boy Among Birds

A little background on birds and me:  Grew up in a very southwest Ann Arbor, Michigan, rural house surrounded by very old apple trees. The open fields and woodlands nearby were parts and parcels of old farms, one of which was platted as "Keck's Corners", bordering the east and west sides of Wagner road. Still dirt covered when I started my wandering days as a curious young boy of 5 years old, itching to get close to every wild bird around my house. There were plenty of birds to choose from too. These encounters of joy with birds helped me escape the harsher disciplines exacted on my skin by a harsh father, who was a very stern exacter of things to be done exactly his way or else there would be stares and quick punishment. There would be a whole lot of shaking me up. All a bit much for a sensitive young lad.
If there was one strong physical presence around my boyhood home that I looked up to, it was a giant monarch apple tree direct in front of our front porch. This unmovable botanical wonder became my most desirable place of refuge spring, summer, and fall.  In winter I viewed the tree's hulking frame primarily from our large living room picture window where wild bird activities were abundant and worth watching. A front row seat to view the bird behavior of everything from hawks to hummingbirds. On one remarkable winter day after a severe winter storm I was able to be eye-to-eye with a Sharp-shinned hawk when it flew remarkably swift on top of the snow-covered border shrub directly below my face-to-the-glass view. I will never forget that fierce and untamed stare in those bright red eyes. We were only a few inches apart.

That rare encounter would mark similar longings for more in the years to come.

One of Those Storms

It was one of those muggy hearing-a-pin-drop kind of July afternoons that come regularly into southern Michigan just about every summer. But all too quickly it changed. I was witness to the rumbling and darkening pea-green elements of the southwestern sky, conjuring up a boiling mess of wind and rain  and hurling it across the lake we call home to in a wave-mounding and water-lifting effort the likes of which one rarely expects. I suddenly caught sight of two very slim dark-headed figures slicing their way with heads up into that mess.

They were swallows in the storm.

Not fifty yards away two adult tree swallows were finding some sort of excitement winging it into the full fury of tornado winds?  Had to rub my eyes a few times. How could they? Even looking like they were enjoying the whole thing! I was almost ecstatic to have a dry front row seat in time to enjoy viewing this grand theatrical performance. They made it look so easy. I really wanted to try joining them, sharing the excitement of swirling  through a real butt-whipping storm.

A very,very impressive performance not to be forgotten.

Here I Go With Birds Again

Among all the wild and domestic groups of animals within our visual boundaries of land, water, and sky, we usually delight in shake-head watching first the flight abilities among the most elevated animal group of all: BIRDS OF THE AIR. Birds that fly around, by, and above us. Words of any kind quite simply fail to fully articulate the flight capabilities of birds and all the wonder and all the envy that ability evokes and inspires us to express in our limited ways. Next to having the gift of life with all its promises and failures, watching all the motions of birds in the air is a gift of freedom every true human should fully relish and carefully cherish within and without by sharing such precious moments through writing, speaking, photography....in some way preserving this monumental treasure to be found all over our shared earth place.

Every day in endless ways countless references are made about birds for better or for worse; and as each day dawns millions upon millions of creatures of the avian kind take flight as we rise also and take notice wherever we may be. Our ongoing relationships with birds of all kinds should never be understated.  So here I go again proclaiming what we homosapiens usually fail to acknowledge as being so important to our lives and to the overall wonder of just being alive enough to enjoy the best of birds.  Come share all that wonder with me right here, right now before we forget just how awesome it all is.

Why is it that we need birds so much? Truth is, we can't really escape their impact, literal or any other way. They are just too important too ignore even if we continue living in boxed-up worlds and denying the freedom we so envy in birds. Upcoming posts will explore some of the diverse ways that question is answered, for better or for worse. There is a fundamental joy in being in the presence of most birds one cannot deny.