Wordless Wednesday: First Pics of 2013

Wordless Wednesday: Cooper's Hawk In A Yellow Spring

Tuesday's Post

On Memorial Day Roger started his prep for his first follow-up colonoscopy since surgery last June. Prep is creepy as you all well know. I feel guilty eating delicious things in front of him. He says he doesn't mind, while he sips his chicken broth. I think he probably minds the glass of wine I'm sipping more than the garlic mashed potatoes and teriyaki tofu I am dining on. I'll be taking him for the exam at 10:15 Tuesday morning, and it should be done by noon. Check-in takes fifteen minutes and then the administration of Demerol and that weird Versed takes some time. So, the exam will probably be an hour or less. Roger asked the doctor not to give him the Versed, but the doc said "No." We assume the drug is really administered for the doctor's benefit. They don't really want patients awake and aware. Too much hassle.
UPDATE: Colonoscopy was fine. All is well. The doctor put Roger on a three-year recall. We are absolutely thrilled and relieved.
Our weather has been interesting, to say the least. I've decided that winter is not a season determined by the angle of the sun, it is a weather pattern. The National Weather service has issued "winter storm warnings" over and over for our region. A surprising thing given that we are three weeks away from SUMMER SOLSTICE. Our poor garden is waiting for something very warm and sunny to happen. It's been promised to them. But so far our temperatures are a good twenty degrees below average. The furnace still turns on in the morning when the temp in the house is lower than 60. We had a fire in the woodstove on Sunday. Hello, climate change, is this the new pattern? We don't like it. Thank you very much.

Still, we have seen some wonderful birds in the yard lately. The colors of the Western Tanager are so vivid, like a hint of the tropics. And the young Cooper's Hawk has been hunting with a clumsy enthusiasm that chases the songbirds rather than surprising them. I'm sure he'll get the hang of it. We enjoyed watching him preen and hunt in a quiet moment. I love a bird that doesn't know it's being watched.

This is life on Tuesday.

There Is No Parable: Hawk and Dove

It's the kind of thing I should be used to already. After all, hawks kill birds in the yard quite often. We find the feather evidence at least once a week, sometimes twice. But I've never watched the whole thing happen until Tuesday morning. I was sitting at the table sipping my tea. The seed-eaters were all over the yard: in the platform feeder, on the tube feeder, under the feeders, in the garden where the seed is scattered. It was both an energetic and bucolic scene.
For some reason the doves never have a chance. The other birds always sense danger first and fly away like their lives depended on it. The doves almost always stop and listen; they take their time; they doubt the danger and go for one more tiny seed. It never fails. I watch them. Their minds always seem to be on something else. Their little heads bobble forward and back, forward and back, as they walk from under the feeder to the garden and back. It's like they are wearing earplugs and are listening to their favorite music as loud as they can. "World? What world? Hawks? What hawks? I'm grooving to my inner music and heading to get me some more seed over there."
Pow. A hawk flies in from the tall pines and slams a dove. Feathers swirl around like a brief snow flurry. Then nothing. Quiet. The hawk stands over the dove, its talons sunk into its body. It waits. It squeezes and waits.
It takes a while for a dove to die. Longer than I thought it would. It's a brutal few minutes of struggle. The hawk looks over its shoulder. It looks down at the dove. The dove tries to flee, its wings flap. The hawk shifts position. It squeezes and waits. Minutes pass, until it finally takes off with its prey, leaving nothing but a pile of feathers and blood on the driveway. Roger hooked up the hose and washed that away for me.

I'm a little surprised that I watched the whole thing, but I did. I even shot a 40 second video, which I won't post because I can't stand to look at it. I understand the nature of things, it's the suffering I find unbearable. I wish I had learned something I did not already know.

We always say we feed all the birds, and it's true. Both the hawk and the dove.

Quiet Times

This Cooper's Hawk has been hunting the yard, reminding me of old times in Washington.
I rescued this Ctenucha rubroscapus moth from the pond. Wading into mucky-bottomed water is definitely not my favorite, but I love these red-shouldered ctenuchas. This guy took a few minutes to recover and then flew off quite cheerfully.

No pic of the very beautiful gray fox that was hanging out by the pump house. I'm pretty sure it had its eye on our kitty cat who was aware of its presence but not enough to sense danger. Our neighbors told us we had a pair of foxes down at the base of our driveway. In the heat of summer we close the blinds on the western side of the house and miss a lot of wildlife action.

Roger is recuperating. Everything takes time.

Wordless Wednesday

Words Wednesday:
Things are proceeding with the sale of the house. The inspection is behind us and the appraisal lies ahead. We are starting to believe that we are really going back to California. It is exciting, even though we are going to miss everything that happens right outside our windows here. Hawk photos taken Sunday morning during the freaky spring snow. It is highly recommended that you embiggen these photos.

The Nature of Nature

I look out the window and see a spotted towhee fleeing the clutches of this cooper's hawk, which is quite literally on its tail. They fly madly into the camellia bush, and I wonder what the towhee might have to say about the nature of nature and illusion.
The heron arrives and stands like a practitioner of Tai Chi at the edge of the pond. Each move a picture of practiced grace. The goldfish are silent and unmoving beneath the water lilies. Their ability to stay focused though, a tad shorter than the heron's.
The juvenile hawk and heron hunt our yard at the same time. So, I take down the bird feeder and put a net over the pond. There are other places for them to learn their skills. I don't have to make it quite so easy for them, do I?

Nothing wants to be prey
This I know looking out my window
Nothing

(BTW-- I couldn't believe I saw the heron on the workshop roof with the hawk in the tree right behind it. Wow!)