B IS FOR BIRD — AND SOME SOCIAL CONVENTIONS

B is for  Bird
who can be heard
all round the block — 
our alarm clock.

Geese on the River

The Geese are moving on the river. And stopping, too. The sure sign that spring is upon us. Or around us.

These are Canada Geese.

They're getting territorial, thinking of setting up house. They have long conversations about these things every morning. And the more that arrive, the more conversations they hold. Family planning by committee. Good grief!

Did I mention they make great alarm clocks? They are not quiet. Not even close.

Is There a Problem?

These Canada Geese fly north and south across the Canada-U.S. border without passports. Without border checks. Without the permission of the Canadian Border Services Agency, the U.S. Department of Immigration and Naturalization, or Homeland Security. They break all the laws. They do not conform to the norms, the social conventions.

And, frankly, they don't care. They were here before the laws. They think the laws do not effect them. 

And they are right (more or less). 

We have laws to keep society organized. Thinks like deciding on which side of the road we will drive. Humans need these, so we don't kill each other — intentionally or accidentally. Or something just as bad.

Geese, and other birds, tend to take life in stride. They eat when they are hungry; they raise families when it seems appropriate. They move with the weather, so they've got something to eat wherever they are. They live on a much simpler basis

Conclusion

We Humans seem to spend a lot of our time doing fairly complex things. Like working at jobs. And going to school. Such things are appropriate for us, because we are more complex creatures than birds.

But if we sat and watched, and thought about what we are seeing, maybe we could live a simpler, bit more relaxed life.

Which would be good for us. Even with, and within, our social conventions.

PLUNDERED!! PILLAGED!!

 Bear's beloved Mountain Ash tree was stripped bare today by a marauding band of ravenous Bohemian Waxwings.

The foraging flock, numbering perhaps a hundred birds,

attacked the tree about 3:30 p.m. local time, 

wave, upon wave, upon wave. 
(Here is a close-up of one.)

By 3:45, only  a few scavengers could be seen,

cleaning up the few remaining berries on the ground.

The activity of the Bohemian Hoard had been reported 

in the local newspaper earlier. 

The onslaught was not unexpected.

J, our  Bear's  beloved spouse, quickly grabbed her camera, clicking photo after photo, mute witness to the onslaught. 

And where was Bear during the melee?

Hibernating in his Den. 

Proving once again that, "you snooze; you lose."

But he'll be delighted by the pictures when he wakes up. 

Very delighted.

After all, it was for events like today's that he planted 

the Mountain Ash in the first place. 

His simple goal — to attract Waxwings.

Report by Sadie B.; photography by J.B.

WHEN IN DOUBT, . . . (3)

The day dawned grey and cold,
sunless,
hoar frosted trees barely visible
in the ice fog;
- 10°C, with a wind chill
almost double that.
"Socked in" as 
the old tyme flyers would say.

By lunch time
Miss Sadie was vocally bored,
and insisted on playing
in the fresh winter air.

And so we did.

Her frozen toy
stung my hands.
Even Her Ladyship
found it cold in her mouth.
Undeterred,
she ran to wherever it landed,
and galloped it back —
a flowing keyboard
of black on white
in the frigid yard.

While overhead,
the gutter ravens,
having moved south for the winter,
cried to one another.

Now, Sadie calmly sleeps
in her favourite chair,
by the warm stove,
awaiting another run,
latter on, perhaps,
not knowing the forecast
is for freezing rain,
which will make everything
treacherous,
for travel,
or even play
in our sanctuary.

AH, SPRING . . .

Spring is sprung

  

(last patch of snow in our yard)
   
The grass is riz
  

  
 
I wonder where the birdies is?

(certainly not at our feeders)

They say the bird is on the wing,

but that's absurd

'cause everybody knows

the wing is on the bird.

  

  

(Or perhaps the Gryphon.)

  

  


I hope you are having a wonderful spring,

wherever you are!

(or autumn, if you're in the south.)

LIFE IN THE FAIRY CASTLE

When the weather changes here, and we get very cold air meeting flowing water, our world is transformed.




We go walking in a winter wonderland.
√

PHRIDAY PHOTOS

WINTER TRANSFORMATION

Temperatures hit -20°C last night (-4°F). Under such conditions, our world is transformed -- at least along the river. The cold air hitting the warmer water raises huge clouds of mist.



The sand bar on which the ducks and geese are accustomed to gathering turns into an island of snow and ice.


And the world around us is turned into something of a fairy castle -- suitable for Fairy Nuff, and others.


Ah, yes; it IS that time of year. Soon it will be too cold for taking Sadie out, except for the shortest of walks. Even the birds have gone into hiding.

GOOSE PARADISE?

Sadie and I went for our usual walk last night, just after sunset. It was dark, but we could still see things farily easily.

No fewer than seven flocks of Canada Geese flew over us, all heading for the sand bar on the river, just below our house.

When we walked this morning, the sandbar was covered with geese, and a large number had been resting along the shoreline (which they quickly left as Sadie and I approached).

This of course, got me thinking. Are there more Canadians in Canada than Canada Geese, or are there more geese than people? If anyone has any ideas, I'd be interested in knowing. If this fall has been any indication, I would think more geese than people. But I'm only a Bear -- what do I know?

SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW

SOMETHING NEW
√
When Sadie and I were out walking yesterday morning (fairly early) we managed to flush a Roughed Grouse.



No, Sadie didn't find it, I did. And she's supposed to be the "gun dog" (category set out by various Kennel Clubs for Standard Poodles as a breed, along with other types of what most folk call "hunting dogs").

But that's OK. She's still just a puppy, so I'm still not expecting (or trying not to expect) too much of her. Besides, the only hunting I ever do is for stay sheep -- of the two-legged variety. She might be helpful when it comes to that. Who knows what life will bring?

SOMETHING OLD
√
Canada Geese, just south of our house. A massive flotilla of them today, stretched out in larger and smaller groups along a half-mile stretch of the river. (Or three-quarters of a mile.) Every so often a group would let out their "group yell (or "group honk") and lift off the water. Sometimes others joined in; sometimes not. All heading north. (I didn't say geese were the smartest birds in all creation; I think they're trying to go south by flying over the North Pole. From there, everything is south, right?) I can't explain it. I suppose they wheel around and head south once they're out of the river banks, which are a bit higher along this part of the river.

Otherwise, just commenting on a provincial pandemic plan -- and trying to keep colleagues up to speed. And learning to cook yam, in order to have some ready for tomorrow morning. I've got a recipe of a yam and banana breakfast, done in a frying pan. It says you cook the yam first. So I had some for supper and will try something new for breakfast. It isn't hunny, but I guess is it will be OK. Hey -- maybe I should put some hunny on it! (We'll see -- Bear might be out of hunny tonight.)

PHRIDAY PHOTO

To V or not to V? That is the question.

Canada Geese on a sandbar at the south edge of the city

The day before I took these pictures, there were about ten times as many geese on the sand bars. (Of course, I didn't have my camera with me!)

We have hundreds of geese that nest on the sand bars every year; hundreds more stop here on their migration south.

I'm still waiting to get a good picture of flock in flight, in their typical "V" formation. It's quite magnificent. These were "talking" about it; a couple did a bit of a "test flight," but the group wasn't quite ready to move on. Perhaps they were waiting for others to join them.

The snow which had fallen a few days earlier was mostly gone, but the temperatures were still around the freezing mark.
picture

HERE YESTERDAY, GONE TODAY

(This is a subset of the equation, "Here today; gone tomorrow.)

The Cedar Waxwings have up and gone. Where? I don't know. But disappear they did, like the Red-breasted Nuthatches before them.

Maybe they decided they wanted waterfront property for the summer. The river is, after all, only about 100 yards to the east of us. Maybe they wanted a coniferous setting. Who can tell about birds? Not this Bear.

But it was wonderful seeing them while they were here. With any luck, some will be back in the winter, and maybe a pair next summer. One can always hope.

MATERNITY WARD REDUX

Actually, the dux are down at the river, and I've been too busy fixing house to pay any attention to them. There are also about a bazillion Canada Geese all along the river -- and on the sand bars in the river. We'll be sending them down to visit you Americans in a few months. (As I mentioned elsewhere, its part of the Free Trade Deal we have with you Americans.)

The surprise -- the arrival of some baby Cedar Waxwings. (I think they are really beautiful birds; you judge for yourselves from the picture.) We have tried to encourage them by planting a Mountain Ash tree in our yard; they really like Mountain Ash berries. This is the first year in seven or eight that we've seen adults around in the summer. (A couple of winters ago, a flock flew in and stripped all the berries off the tree in about 15 minutes flat.) But no, this is summer, and only a pair. But they still like our tree.

I was working outside this evening, and behold -- waxwing parents with waxwing babies! I think they must have nested in a tree in the next-door neighbour's yard. So you know how much work I accomplished tonight. (This Bear is REALLY for the birds -- but you already knew that.)

So, some summer excitement after all! And I even get to share it with you!

EMPTY MATERNITY WARD SYNDROME.

The Maternity ward is empty. We last saw the adult Red-breasted Nuthatches on Monday night, when we were out cutting the grass, and working in the yard. The parents were quite alarmed by our presence. I thought at the time it might have been the lawnmower (noisy beast that it is). But it could have been that some or all of the babies were out of the nest, and the parents were telling them to stay very still.

Since we hadn't seen the parents for a couple of days, I checked the next tonight. Just below the opening I could see a cobweb -- sign that nobody has been into the nest for a day or two. I couldn't see into the bottom of the nest, but my conclusion was that they had gone. Gone without as much as a cheery good-bye. Parents might abandon eggs, but not live babies. Besides, according to my calculations, it was time for the babies to be fledged and ready to go. I'm just sorry that they didn't hang around so we could see them.

Maybe next time.

MATERNITY WARD UPDATE

A really quick note.

1. The Nuthatches are carrying food to their "hole in the tree" -- which means they're feeding babies. I haven't looked in -- don't want to scare them.

2. Mr. Robin has been holding on to "his" property all summer, and there is a new Mrs. Robin. I can tell from their activities that she's building a nest -- though I don't know where.

The sadder report was that the original Mrs. Robin died of septicemia. The pathologist found two small holes on her flank, where blood had dried over. That's consistent with being hit by a cat, but not killed outright. (There might be other causes.) But that's where the infection started, and then spread through her whole body. Anyhow, she was apparently flying to get some food, her heart stopped, and she fell from the sky. They also found a crushed egg inside of her, indicative of a fall; an egg which she would probably have laid later that day.

Footnote: living in our back yard can be dangerous. I went out to change the water sprinkler, and almost got hammered in the head by two Pine Siskins (finches related to the common American Goldfinch). One was chasing the other. I had to duck really fast; otherwise, I'd have had a bird in the head (which is entirely different from a bird in the hand). About a minute later they came back, and I had to duck again. If they're in a territorial fight over a portion of our "outback," that's their business. Just leave me out of it! Please!

DEATH IN THE "MATERNITY WARD"

As I mentiond earlier, I was going to "paw" in the garden for a while this morning -- a normal spring time thing to do.

One of the first things I discovered outside was a dead Robin, close to our 24 hour self-serve food and water bird restaurant. I checked it out -- I was pretty sure it was Mrs. Robin. There were no signs that it had hit our building; there were no signs that it had been attacked by a cat or something like that. I set her beside the little St. Francis statue in our yard, only a foot or so from where I found her. I went and checked the nest. There was nobody on it -- but inside there were three beautiful little eggs -- all "Robin's egg blue." I estimate they are about a week from hatching, given the past activities of the mother.

I talked to several people people at our University's Veterinary College (where they do quite bit of work with birds). We decided that I should bring Mrs. Robin in for an autopsy, to make sure that it wasn't some bird disease that had killed her. We don't want any more strange infections floating around. I'll eventually get a report on her death. As for the eggs, there was nothing they could do.

We had some other things to do, but came back in the late afternoon. We checked in the back yard, and there was another Robin - sitting on the fence, looking up at the nest. It finally flew up to the nest. It didn't get on the nest -- it just stood there --looking at the eggs and looking around, and around, and then back at the eggs. I was pretty sure it was Mr. Robin. I had to do something on the other side of the yard, and when I got to the far end, he rose up as if to challenge me, thought he never said a thing, and I don't go over. Eventually he left.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the garden, the Nuthatches are carrying on, as usual, apparently unaware of the tragedy at the other end of the Maternity Ward.

P.S.: I just got a brief phone report from the pathology lab. There are signs of an infection in her, but it not the kind of thing which should have killed her. There were a few extra questions for me about the circumstances under which I found her. I'll get a fuller report when the pathologists are finished doing their work.

While I was on the phone, Mr. Robin came back and checked everything again very thoroughly, before leaving again.

--------

I wonder how birds mourn and grieve.

"IN THE FAMILY WAY" (2)

While we've been watching the birds in our yard, we've noticed a pair of Robins hanging around a tree at the far end of our yard. Today, I wandered next door into the neighbour's yard, and guess what. All it took was a couple of glances to see Mrs. Robin sitting on a nest.

So, I guess our back yard has turned into a maternity ward!

The good news is that Robins and Nuthatches like different food -- so there's been no fighting.

For the picture of the American Robin, look in the sidebar, just below the "thousand word" picture.

P.S.: It snowed again yesterday. Fortunately, the snow was followed by rain, so all the white stuff is gone. And we're supposed to get more snow. "Snow yesterday, snow tomorrow, no snow today." (Or is that supposed to be "jam" instead of "snow"?) We bears can be so forgetful.

"IN THE FAMILY WAY"

Yes, it's true!.

No, it's not the Bear and G3 -- we're a bit ancient for that. Not our kids, either.

It's a pair of Red-breasted Nuthatches. They have hollowed out a nesting cavity in our apple tree, which is about a yard (or a metre) from the back corner of our house. (That's were the bird baths and feeders are located.)

About Red-breasted Nuthatches.

First, there's a picture in the sidebar. Normally about 4.5 inches long -- not a big bird, but feisty!

The nest is about 5 feet above the ground, and the outside is being lined with pitch, to keep predators away. If there are eggs in the nest (usually 4 - 7), they should hatch in about 12 to 14 days from now (which is when we'll see the parents carrying food to the nest). They like seeds from coniferous trees (we have several big spruces in our area, with cones all over the ground), but they also love sunflower seeds (which is what we stock in our feeder).

We'll keep you "abreast" of developments.

NEWS BULLETIN: THE INVASION HAS BEGUN

We interrupt our regular programing for this special news bulletin.

The pathfinders having done their work, the full-scale invasion of the Dark-eyed Juncos began at dawn in the Bear's back yard.

Early reports indicated that the first wave was led by a raiding party of four.

Four other Juncos followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the grass and leaves,
And scrambling to the shore (of the bird bath).*

We'll have further reports as they become available. Now back to our regular programming.


*With apologies to Charles Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll). See Junco picture in side-bar.

FOR THE BIRDS

Now that the front yard is done more or less done, it's time to switch to the real action -- the back yard. (The vines at the front will need a bit of trimming, but that will take about five minutes, because most of it was looked after last fall.)

The back yard has two major functions. My Celtic Grove is back there -- a place built for reading and meditation. (When I figure out how to put pictures in my posts, I'll send some along.)

The second function is to provide a place of food, water and sanctuary for birds of all types (more or less).

Usually the Dark-Eyed Juncos are the first to arrive in the spring. But so far, we've seen only one; strange there haven't been more. Not only that, our first Robin of the season arrived a week ahead of the Junco.

Clarification about Robins. The Robin of Great Britain is about 5 inches long, with olive brown upper parts, and red face, throat and breast, with a white belly. The American Robin, a member of the Thrush family, is about 11 inches long, with a black head and throat (and a white eye ring), lighter black upper parts, and red which covers both breast and belly. While the American Robin was named after its British counterpart, that's were the similarity ends.

A particular male Robin has taken a liking to a yard, and is hanging out fairly regularly. The house across our back lane has a turret (really!) which provides "high ground" and a good view of the whole neighbourhood. In a week or so, I expect this chap will be sitting on the turret singing his heart out. And, bye and bye, there will be a female, gathering grass and mud, to build a nest in a more discreet location, and then -- well, you know.

In the meantime, we need to clean and re-mount the three nesting boxes we have. We have drippers (which supply drips of waters to our bird baths, thus keeping the water fresh) that have to be re-conected and tested. And rather than have cement walkways through the garden, we cover our walks with large bark chips -- so we'll need to get another bag or two of those.

Then we wait and see who shows up, and what starts growing, and try to get things tidied up before the mosquitos come and drive us inside. The only reason I can think anything good about mosquitos is that they provide excellent fed for may birds, as well as bats. (You see, I try to find a positive angle for everything -- well, almost.)

G3 has begun reorganizing the inside of the house, but that's going to have to wait for a few days. She's doing a presentation on helping families cope with dementia (particularly Alzheimer Disease) -- something on which she's been working for about 20 years. (I'm her technical assistant: I help set things up and operate the equipment.) Then we'll attend to the garden. And when the mosquitos get to bad, we'll work inside. There is a system!

And as I am slowly starting to feel a bit stronger, there may be other inventive things into which I can get myself.

I do hope you all have a wonderful spring (or autumn for those of you who live in Australia or thereabouts).

BIRDWATCHING

(NO, not those kinds of birds; the ones with wings. And feathers. Roger Tory Peterson would approve.)

I'm home alone. G3 and Dragonfly have gone to the opera. It's a mother/daughter thing they do from time to time. It's from the Metropolitan Opera House in New York, but actually shows at the local theatre (cinema, movie-house). There's some kind of audio-visual link from MOH to here. Since I'm not responsible for the link, I don't think about it.

My attitude towards opera is somewhat like that of a certain Mr. Smorgus:

Mr. Smorgus went to the opera,
Where he sat and snored.
Mr. Smorgus hated opera;
Boy, was Smorgus bored.

Which is why G3 and Dragonfly go to the opera without me.

So, I'm home alone, except for the birds. We used to have a dog -- a standard Poodle. She got sick as she got older; very sick, actually. We did the humane thing for her. It's the thing you cannot do for people (at least not legally, in Canada -- but legally in a few other places). (If you want to see more about that, check my blog, "The Ethical Pilgrimage" -- with the story about the Latimers.)

As for the birds, "the regulars" have come to Rob-bear's B&B (Bird and Breakfast -- with all-day breakfast). There's a mixed flock of House Sparrows and House Finches. A few Black-Capped Chickadees. The Chickadees always give me "what for" when I go out to fill the feeder. But because they've figured out that my presence is somehow connected to a full feeder, they tend to not go very far when I'm out there. (They may be bird-brained, but they know a meal when they see one, or see the meal provider.) I'm hoping to see some "irregulars" -- Downy Woodpecker, Blue Jay, Red-Breasted Nuthatch, White Breasted Nuthatch. Or maybe something totally different. (I heard a Raven when I was out, but didn't get to see the "trickster.")

The birds we will not be seeing are "The Eagles." They're having a concert in town. After a few years off (say about 14), they're back to their old habits. Tickets are $200 each. That's way too much for our modest budget. Even if they are going to sing "Hotel California," which isn't guaranteed.

But G3 and I will be going to our local Theatre (as in live theatre) tomorrow afternoon, with our friends, the Couple from Out-of-Town. We've had season's tickets for the Theatre with COT for years -- the one luxury for which we budget. The ritual is the same. We meet at the Theatre. After the play, we come back to our place for supper. After supper and good chat, COT hits the road for home (a drive of about three-quarters of an hour, mostly on a four-lane highway).

Speaking of feeding, I'll need to go shopping for a few things. Then I'll come back and
a) watch the birds some more, or
b) read the book G3 and I are reading (we have our own, two-person book club), or
c) have a rest (which is usually part of my routine, especially when I haven't slept well at night, which is often), or
d) a combination of the above.

There's also a report for our Health Region's Ethics Committee (on which I have served for years). I probably won't get at that until tomorrow or Monday -- likely Monday, as tomorrow seems full already.

Tonight, I may meander through the blogsphere. Or may not. It will depend on how tired I am.