I went on a short hike the other day, and I almost didn’t bring my binoculars.
This is a pretty radical statement for an ardent birder to make, so let me explain. Even though the hike took place on property belonging to Audubon, our purpose was to look for wildflowers, not birds, and to create the beginnings of a plant checklist that would be added to in the following years. Specifically, my job was to photograph what we found.
I love living outside the city limits, but sometimes sharing our five acres with nature can have its challenges. I currently maintain seven bird feeders and a bird bath. Not only do we have lots of birds, but the availability of food and water brings in some unintended visitors as well.
I was attending a meeting at the nature center when my cell phone vibrated. Seeing it was Pete, I quickly excused myself and answered his call.
“Hi sweetie, what’s up?”
“I have a problem. How do I get a skunk out of the garage?”
Saturday morning. Wakened by my alarm, I snuggled down into my sleeping bag and listened. Trucks rumbled by on the nearby highway. The bird in the trees overhead kept up a constant chatter. But no drops were hitting the tent. The rain had stopped!
Thankfully, our field trip this morning departed at a leisurely 6:30 a.m., the first of two days photographing birds with Bill Schmoker. This was my primary reason for attending the convention, and I was eager to get started.
I just got back from my first birding conference—the annual Colorado Field Ornithologists’ Convention. This year it was held in Grand Junction, on the western slope of the Rockies. My friend Debbie (above) and I enjoyed three days of beak-geek heaven, plus a full day each way for the 5 hour drive from home. Sometimes life can be pretty sweet.
As a newbie attendee, I really wasn’t sure what to expect. However, I had heard about the amazing field trip possibilities. After reading all the glowing descriptions on the conference website, I signed up for three outings, one a day. As far as the rest of the activities… well, I’d just have to wait and see.
I recently read a confounding article on Garden Rant (a gardening blog like no other). The author was reporting on some new research suggesting that not all invasive species should be eradicated.
Specifically, a Penn State biologist named Tomas Carlo studied Japanese Honeysuckle (considered a noxious weed in much of the eastern US) and found that its presence increased the biodiversity of bird species as well as the number of individual birds. In fact, the fall berries are a major source of food for fruit-eating birds.
Eew! What was that horrible smell? Even with chronic congestion associated with my being allergic to nearly everything, I could tell something had died. Following my nose, I wandered downstairs, then into the corner of the basement with the seldom-used utility sink. As I got closer, I realized the deep sink was completely full of dirty water that lapped at the faucet and threatened to spill over the counter and onto the floor. I hastily ran upstairs to alert my handyman husband.
If you are a serious birder, you probably keep a life list. As any collector understands, adding birds to that list brings a sense of elation, accomplishment and satisfaction. However, if you’ve been birding the same place for very many years, you probably have already seen most of the birds in your area.
How can experienced birders recapture that beginner’s sense of excitement? Along with their cumulative lifetime list, many birders keep year lists. What birds can we find this year? It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve already seen them, it’s fun to start over.
Q: Why didn’t the Turkey Vulture pay the airline’s luggage surcharge?
A: All he had was carrion.
Frequently portrayed as sinister black birds hunched over a dying cow or feasting on road kill, Turkey Vultures could be the perfect Halloween birds. But are they really as evil (or disgusting) as the image suggests? Get to know them a bit better, and you might be surprised at how interesting these huge birds can be. You might even find them endearing.
What comes to mind when I describe a tree that has heart-shaped leaves, is in the poplar genus, grows well in Colorado and turns a brilliant gold in the fall? Chances are, you didn’t immediately think of cottonwoods. Yet, when it comes to putting on a show, cottonwoods are every bit as spectacular as their close kin, the aspen. In many ways, they are the other iconic Colorado tree. Find any stream, pond, or irrigation ditch, and chances are there will be at least one cottonwood growing next to it. They are riparian trees, and prefer to have their feet wet.
The large sign was front and center, but no one seemed able to read it. The scenic turnout was crowded with retirees, young couples, and other tourists. Chipmunks scampered over the rocks, gorging on Fritos, sunflower seeds, and bits of doughnut. Clark’s Nutcrackers swooped down to nab the handouts before the rodents could grab them. There was even a bird perched hopefully on the sign. What do you mean, “Please, don’t feed the animals”?
