Birdland West

CSI: Pigeon Town

2012-01-04T10:05:00.000-08:00

Not the bird from last week, a young Cooper's Hawk from a nearby park last winter.

About mid-morning last Friday, while I was working at my desk in the back of the house, I heard a crow in the front yard screeching his displeasure at something. It went on for several minutes, and I thought about going out to see what was bothering him -- following the lead of agitated crows usually leads to something interesting -- but this was only one crow, not a mob, and I was focused on the blog post I was writing, so I didn't get up. A few minutes later my roommate Dan called me, from the front yard. He had just gotten home, and he was whispering into his cell phone, "Dude, get the camera. There's a small hawk in the tree outside. Hurry."

I got the camera (which is not stored conveniently on the table by the door any more, since my dog Zeke decided to chew up one of my lenses) but by the time I got to the window, the hawk had noticed Dan and taken off. I didn't get to see him. However, Dan paged through the field guide and quickly identified him as a Cooper's Hawk. That made sense, because I know there are Cooper's Hawks in this area. I've seen them more than once in the park where I take Zeke to play. I was mildly disappointed that I didn't get to see him myself, since I've never actually seen a hawk in our yard.

A few hours later, we were getting ready to go shopping, and Dan took the dogs out before we left. I followed him a few minutes later and he told me, "Don't look over the side rail. There's been a death."

My first thought was that it must be one of the rats that live under the fence. I haven't seen them in a while, and I've been a little worried about what happened to them. But unfortunately, this was a death that hit even closer to home.

It was one of the pigeons.

Anyone who reads my blog probably knows that I am fond of pigeons. I take care of the little collection of "misfit" pigeons who hang out in this neighborhood -- mostly because they are centered around Timmy. I have a history with Timmy, and feel some responsibility for him. And I enjoy watching the pigeons when they come to eat (and often squabble) on my front deck. They don't hang around here otherwise -- even Timmy has stopped hanging around much other than mealtimes -- so they aren't a nuisance to me or the neighbors. I often see them perched on the power lines behind the house, watching. When I put food down they begin to swoop in.

The "victim", fortunately, was not Timmy or Timmy's Friend.

The dead pigeon was not Timmy, or "Timmy's Friend". (You can see my earlier posts about Timmy and the other pigeons here and here.) In fact, judging by the wing patterns, it wasn't a pigeon I was familiar with. I examined the body and the "crime scene" -- and I took lots of photos, which I'm going to spare my readers, since they are pretty gruesome. Suffice it to say that the pigeon was apparently eating on the rail when it was attacked. It looks like it was killed almost instantly, because it was on the ground just below the rail. Its head was gone, and its crop was still filled with undigested seed which it had obviously just eaten. There were blood and feathers around the body, and more at another spot a few feet away, under the stairs.

My first thought was that a cat was the culprit. There are occasionally free roaming cats in our neighborhood, and any bird lover has to be concerned. I put off bird feeding for many years because the area I used to live in -- Ballard -- was full of feral and semi-feral cats. Don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-cat. But I am anti-outdoor cats. At the wildlife center where I volunteer, a very large percentage of all the animal injuries that come in -- especially birds -- are cat attacks. Outdoor cats are an environmental horror story. But I'll come back to that in a later post.

It didn't even occur to me, at first, that the Hawk killed the pigeon. But of course, that was the most likely scenario. So I sent my crime scene photos off to my friend Kevin, who's the staff naturalist at Paws WildlifeCenter. Here's what he said:

"From looking at the photos of the pigeon, I would say you are looking at the work of a hawk, rather than the work of a cat. First of all, it looks like the pigeon’s tail and rump feathers are intact. In almost all cat attacks you will see wounds over the rump and missing tail feathers because the cat attacks from behind as the bird tries to fly away. Hawks usually hit much farther forward on the body. Once they have a good grip on their prey, they kill it by biting through one of the cervical vertebrae at the back of the neck. They then tend to eat from the head down. Hawks pluck the feathers from the area in which they wish to feed. This leaves a scattered pile of loose but completely intact feathers. Cats bite into birds right through the feathers. Feathers are generally pulled away in clumps, usually with skin still attached, and the feathers themselves are often broken or otherwise damaged. The loose feathers around this pigeon’s body all look like they have been individually plucked, again indicating a hawk rather than a cat."

Sad news. But on the other hand, I had a Cooper's Hawk lunching in my yard.

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If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

(Many of the original photographs featured on Birdland West are available for sale as art quality prints. You can check out all of our offerings at http://AlexWashoe.imagekind.com. If you see an image here that does not show up on our Imagekind site please contact me directly and I'll let you know about availability.)

Accepting the Birds that Come

2011-11-06T12:41:00.000-08:00

It is currently 39 degrees and sunny in Seattle, but I'm sitting here at my desk in a heavy coat because my dogs want to have access to the front deck. Sigh.

Long ago, when I was an art student, studying drawing and photography, I learned a valuable lesson: don't wait for the perfect subject, draw what's in front of you. It seems like an easy principle to master, but it turns out it's one of those things you have to learn over and over again.

Starling and Sparrow, familiar visitors, in an uncommon mutual pose.

Take birds, for example. As a birdwatcher, and as a photographer, I am always hoping for the next big, unexpected find. For some rare (or at least previously unseen) bird to fly onto my yard list, or alight on the bushes at the dog park. Of course, the definition of "rare" means that it's something which very seldom happens. So the artist who waits for "rare" subjects -- unless he takes off for Tahiti like Gauguin -- may have a long wait. (I couldn't come up with Paul Gauguin's name to save my life just now, so I Googled "Tahiti Artist" and it was the first hit -- I love the Internet.) There are days when I take my camera outside and I think, "Nothing here but more chickadees, Juncos and pigeons. I have thousands of pictures of them, why do I need more?"

Beautiful rich colors make this Junco stand out.

The answer is, "I don't." But I need to take more pictures of them. It's not the end product, it's the process. That may sound like a cliche, but it's true. Most basically, because it keeps your skills and your eye sharp -- the way practicing scales keeps a musicians hands limber and ears tuned. But it's also true for a couple of other reasons (that I know how to articulate).

First, is receptivity. As an artist -- photographer, writer or birdwatcher -- receptivity is one of the most important traits you can possess. (Reactivity is another, but I'll write about that some other day.) You could compare it to the chemical nature of film (remember film? If you're too young, Google it). The chemicals on the film are sensitive to light and they react in its presence, creating an image. Similarly, the artist has to be available to the "light" of the world around him, has to let it in and let it change him. The inner film develops these images, stores them, and they become the raw material out of with art is created. Standing on my deck, with my camera, I am at my best when I can cultivate a state of open receptivity. If I was religious I could phrase it as, "Not my will, but yours be done." In other words, I will accept what comes. I'll photograph what's in front of me instead of complaining that I don't get anything "new". Out of that openness comes possibility, the chance for something unexpected and creative to occur. Without that openness, nothing is possible.

A distinctive mostly white Pigeon surveys the deck.

I love pigeons!

Henry James -- not usually one of my favorite writing mentors, but you really can't escape his influence -- advised us to strive to be someone on whom nothing is lost. The emphasis on striving (James said, "try" but it's the same point) is important. It's a goal we can't reach. Still, it's crucial. As soon as I begin thinking, "Oh, they're just chickadees, just pigeons, I've seen them a thousand times before," then the doors of my perception are closed. The world is being lost on me. The chickadees that I see today may or may not be the actual birds I've seen before -- it's very difficult to tell. (Actually, sonograms of the songs of individual birds can help you identify whether the particular birds in your yard are the ones you've seen before -- another topic to get into later.) With pigeons it's a little easier. I saw four pigeons on my deck yesterday and, because I forced myself for a moment to put down all the things I was worrying about and everything I "should" be doing, I got some really great photos of them. Two of them I knew and two were really striking, mostly white birds that I'm not sure I've seen before. I love pigeons, but familiarity can blunt even our greatest passions. Only openness and receptivity -- being the present moment without any certainties -- can reignite that love. My pigeons reminded me of that.

Like the Four Stooges having lunch.

And ultimately, the birds that I see today are not the birds that I've seen before -- and I am not the person who saw them. A photographer knows that from moment to moment the light moves and the image changes. The photographer changes too. No amount of clinging to my opinions or preferences will prevent that. Tomorrow, the birds will be different and I will be different. The tree will have a few less leaves, the monster dog on the deck beside me will be a little bigger, and the light will keep moving.

And the pigeons will have something new to say.

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I've been a little busy this month doing NaNoWriMo and other writing related activities. So far, it's been a pretty good year for writing. If you're interested, you can check out some of my other work. Starting with our sister Blog, Books and Beasts. Also, the Seattle Mariners Blog, Sodo Mojo has been hosting my posts every Sunday morning for a couple of months. You can check out some of my pieces (and the great baseball analysis of the rest of the site's writers) here.

Many of the original photographs featured on Birdland West are available for sale as art quality prints. You can check out all of our offerings at http://AlexWashoe.imagekind.com. If you see an image here that does not show up on our Imagekind site please contact me directly and I'll let you know about availability.)

The Warriors of Winter

2011-10-13T10:38:00.000-07:00

Since I was writing about hummingbirds in my previous post, it seems appropriate to continue.

Zeke is weatherproof.

It's been wintery in Seattle this week. Grey wet weather and cold temperatures have moved in. We had to close the house up for the first time -- although my dog Zeke insists on having the door open as much as possible, in spite of the weather. In fact, Zeke, with his St. Bernard ancestry, is thriving. The cooler it gets, the happier and more energetic he becomes.

The sense of winter may have been as much internal as external though. I've been tired lately, feeling my age. And I've been in the midst of what is most likely a hopeless infatuation. At least it seems that way on long gray days when I'm home with the dogs working alone. When she's around me, I can convince myself that anything is possible.

Webs decorated by winter (photo by Dan)

But seasons are slippery things. They resist our attempts to turn them into metaphor. Last year, as winter turned into spring, I got excited about the possibilities for bird watching around my home. I already had twenty-plus species on my yard list and I was expecting that to burgeon. The list did grow, but not dramatically. And I did see some excitement with fledglings, but overall there actually seemed to be a drop off in bird activity during the spring and summer. Perhaps because of the unusually cool weather -- we never really got a sustained summer going -- the ripening of fruit on the cherry tree didn't draw nearly as much activity as it had the year before. So -- because of that and other, unrelated things -- I was feeling kind of down.

But seasons -- as I said -- are slippery things.

Male Anna's (photo by Dan)

This past week, as storm clouds move in and winds pick up, the hummingbirds have returned in force. Most people think of hummingbirds as tropical birds, summer friends. But in my yard they are creatures of the snow and rain. I already had two female Anna's visiting me regularly -- one looks young and the other is more mature. But this week the males arrived. Not just one, but two. And the yard became a battleground.

The male keeps his lonely vigil.

I've written before about fierce these little guys are. How the Aztecs considered hummingbirds to be warrior symbols, and wore their feathers into battle.

Over and over he stood off attacks.

Well, this week they proved it. I stood out on the deck and watched a male Anna's sitting at the very top of the cherry tree, loudly asserting his position. Then the second male began to buzz him, swooping by again and again at full speed, each time making with a piercing chirp as he passed, almost like a high-pitched sonic boom. The first hummingbird stood his ground for a long time though before abandoning his perch. I wasn't able to get any photos of them together, but I did get some shots of the first male holding his perch, and a shot of what I assume was the attacker pulling up out of one of his attack dives.

I believe this is the attacker, pulling out of his dive.

Twice, afterwards, I saw them "dance" with each other around the feeder. The would fly straight at each other and then spin around a common center, cursing all the while.

None of this drama seems to bother the females, who continue to come regularly.

It might look like winter, but around here every gray day has a scarlet and emerald lining.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

I have also begun writing regular Sunday morning posts for SoDo Mojo, a Seattle Mariner's blog. Check out my most recent post, Change of Season.

Anna's Hummingbird

2011-10-07T07:15:00.000-07:00

[Today's post marks something new from Birdland West. I want, from time to time, to post experiments in fictional technique, short stories or sketches that attempt to bring more of the non-human world into fictional forms. At this moment, this all experiment and feeling my way forward in the dark. I hope that readers will offer feedback and ideas in response.]

The hummingbird hung motionless, except for its furious wings, above the feeder. The red plastic -- a human would have called it red -- glowed like a beacon in the bird's vision, reflecting parts of the spectrum no mammal could see. Light glinted off the bird's feathers which broke it apart like millions of tiny prisms, throwing flashes of green and red. (Again, green and red as humans would see them -- with their primate color vision, recently recovered in evolutionary time, and so limited as compared to the bird's). The hummingbird poised above the feeder.

Almost no one noticed. The writer -- who lived in the house attached to the yard where the feeder hung -- was uncommonly aware of the sounds of the bird's presence -- the high pitched, fast sound, like a telegraph key -- but the weather was growing cold and the doors and windows of his house were shut. Besides, he was preoccupied with work (or with the distractions that kept him from working). And he was thinking about a young woman he had recently become interested in and what seemed like the impossibility that she could be interested in (old, fat, unsuccessful) him. He didn't hear the hummingbird's approach or sense it hovering over the feeder in the bush at the front of the yard.

Across the street, a woman had just come out of her split-level home, carrying her son in her arms. He had just turned a year old and was large for his age, with a thick tassel of very dark hair and dark eyes. His mother looked as if she could barely hold him. She was from China, but spoke English with only the barest trace of an accent, having lived in Europe for years before the US. The writer, who was probably old enough to be her father, thought she was beautiful. Her son was moody, and sometimes when he cried she would bring him across the street to the sidewalk outside the writer's house to look at the writer's dogs -- especially the huge St. Bernard mix puppy who liked to hang out on the front deck in all kinds of weather. He was oblivious to cold or rain or snow. Children loved him, with his goofy face and harlequin colors. He would stand up on his hand legs and put his paws on the rail and the little boy's fussing would turn to laughter. He would point and laugh. The funny dog was too big and rambunctious to play with small children though. Ironically it was the older dog, a female pit bull two thirds the size of the clown dog -- the type of dog that some people crossed the street to avoid -- who was really good with children. She understood that they were like puppies.

The little girl who lived three houses down also loved the dogs. She was a few months older than the boy, much smaller, but already walking. Running. Her mother -- tall, slim and unselfconsciously lovely -- was always chasing her up and down the sidewalk. They were a Mormon family, the mother and father had met at Brigham Young University, moved here because of his work, and were renting a house on the block until they could find one of their own to buy. The little girl was fearless. She would run down the sidewalk, and back down the stairs into people's yards. Once, she had started climbing the steps to the writer's deck with the clown-dog, who outweighed her by three times or more -- at the top of the stairs, behind the gate barking. Whenever she saw the dogs she would point and squeal. Her mother believed her first word had been "dog".

But today the sky was gray and the mood was drizzly. The writer's door was closed and the dog's were inside. The mother, struggling with her son's weight, sighed and headed off down the sidewalk, hoping a little more walking would ease his mood.

She didn't see the hummingbird.

In the cherry tree, which grew in a neighbor's yard but overhung the writer's yard, chickadees were queuing up to take their turn at the brass feeder which swung from one of the lower branches. They leapt from branch to branch, their sharp black and white markings standing out when they landed in the light. Chicka-dee-dee. Chicka-dee-dee. Their call had a wheezy sound and the writer often whistled, absently, a rough approximation of the tune. Nothing any chickadee would recognize. The little birds seemed almost fearless, and they would sit on the feeder and look into the eyes of a person standing on the stairs only a few feet away. They could, with a little patience, have been coaxed into eating out of the writer's hand. They would even scavenge seed off the boards of the deck while the clown dog lay close by, watching. They were smart enough not to try that with the older dog.

Suddenly, a young grey squirrel raced up the trunk and out along one of the branches. Chickadees, startled by the sudden movement, dived upwards into the air. The squirrel leapt heavily off the swaying branch and landed on the rail of the porch, where seed had been scattered (by the writer) for the pigeons and other birds, like the Juncos who preferred to eat off the ground or rail instead of a feeder. Just as often, though, it was the squirrels who ate it, or one of the rats that lived in burrows underneath the fence.

Inside the house, the clown-dog, whose hearing was acute, jumped on the couch beneath the window and bayed. The blinds were down, so he couldn't see out, but his eyesight was not so good anyway. His ears never failed. The older dog's head bobbed up out of sleep at the sound of the baying. She jumped up on the couch beside him. Even with her front feet on the back of the couch, standing nearly erect, she wasn't as tall as the clown dog sitting on his rump. Her three short, hoarse barks counterpointed his bay.

On the rail, the squirrel pivoted, changed directions almost as if he had turned himself inside out. His busy tail sprang upward and he reversed his leap, catching the thin branch -- which dipped precariously under his weight -- and hugging it with all four paws. He flowed rapidly along the branch and down the trunk, disappearing into the neighbor's yard.

After a moment the dogs fell silent, but the clown-dog kept his ears cocked. Somewhere down the block, the little boy was crying.

The hummingbird, all but unseen, alighted on the perch of the feeder and drank.

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If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

I have also begun writing regular Sunday morning posts for SoDo Mojo, a Seattle Mariner's blog. Check out my most recent post, Change of Season.

Where to from Here?

2011-09-23T15:21:00.000-07:00

It's been about six months since I started this blog -- it seems so much longer. Spring (which never really got on its feet this year) was just "heating up" back then. There were Flickers and Starlings on my suet feeder, the hummingbirds had braved the snows in my yard, and the rats were foraging under the fence. Six months later the rats are still there, the Starlings are re-forming their winter flocks after the breeding season (there were two in my backyard this morning making such an incredible variety of sounds it seemed like a huge mixed flock), and the hummingbirds are coming back. Most people have hummingbirds in the summer who leave in the fall. Around here, it's been different. The hummingbirds left for the summer (because there were so many other food sources, I guess) and now that the weather has begun to cool a little and most of the flowers are gone, they're coming back. This past week I've seen almost constant hummingbird activity. They're so vocal (a lot of hummingbird sounds are not actually vocal, they're made by wings and tail) I can hear them from inside the house. There have been at least two here regularly, a young female and an older female. I'm on the lookout for more.

Zeke's first day home.

When I started the blog I did it for a number of reasons -- the most important of which are spelled out on my "About" page. It was pretty dark time in my life, I had gone through the deaths of my mother and my canine companion Roscoe, and through it all it was bird watching and observing wildlife that really got me through. Since I started, some things have changed-- for instance, my "puppy" Zeke now weighs close to 120 pounds -- and some things haven't. Bird watching is still very important to me.

Zeke today.

It's been a pretty good year for my writing in general. Both this blog and its companion, Books and Beasts, have been pretty well received. I had an article about Roscoe published by Whole Life Times. I've done a couple of guest posts for 10000 Birds. (Consider the Chickadee and Crazy Flickers). I may soon be doing a regular post for SodoMojo, a blog which covers the Seattle Mariners. And my Klout Score (if anyone can explain to me how that thing really works, I'd love to hear it) is hovering somewhere around 47, give or take. Not bad, all things considered. It's a far cry from making a living as a writer, but I'm having fun.

Meanwhile, I keep thinking about what I want to do with these blogs. Between them, they take up a fair amount of my time now, and I want to keep them as fresh an interesting to the readers as I can. Without losing what's good about them so far -- I have some ideas that I am hoping to try out in the months to come.

The first of these involves my puppy Zeke. I will soon be doing a review for Books and Beasts of Mary R. Burch's book Citizen Canine, about training for the Canine Good Citizen test. Following that review, Zeke and I are going to undertake a regular training regimen with the goal of his passing the test at next year's Paws Walk. And my intention is to document that training here -- with regular updates, and even videos of his progress. I'll tell you a lot more about it in the near future, but if you think this would be an interesting addition to this blog, I'd love to hear from you. (And if you don't, I'll still be glad for the feedback.)

The second thing is fiction. I've written a little here, and a lot more at Books and Beasts, about point of view in fiction, and how incorporating the consciousness of other species might effect that. I've also been working on that problem more practically in my own fiction, and what I hope to do is share some of that work with my readers from time to time. I'm thinking of having a semi-regular short fiction post in addition to the regular contents of the blog. Again, I'd appreciate any thoughts readers have on this idea.

Meanwhile, I'll keep doing what I'm doing, keeping you informed on what's going on with the birds and wildlife in this tiny corner of the world. I hope it makes interesting reading.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

A Busy Day at the Bird Feeders

2011-09-20T18:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, in the afternoon, the sun came out unexpectedly after a cold, rainy weekend. The yard was glistening in a way that I usually associate more with spring than late-summer-fading-into-Autumn. But then, we didn't get much spring in Seattle this year, so I'll take it.

Black-Capped Chickadee with his prize, perched in cherry tree.

Waiting his turn.

I don't know if it was the sunshine, the cooler, crisper temperatures or just a coincidence, but suddenly the yard was alive with birds. Chickadees, who are always around, were out in force. They queue up in the cherry tree and wait their turn at the feeder -- it seems to be a chickadee rule that only one bird can use the feeder at time. Sparrows and finches and Juncos are glad to double up, but chickadees wait their turn. Usually, the next chickadee waits on the branch above the feeder until the one who is there leaves. They never take very long, picking out the seed they want and flying back up into the tree with it. Every once in a while a chickadee approaches the feeder and realizes at the last minute that there's someone already there, then pulls up in a whuff of wings and lands in the tree. But they never seem to squabble the way sparrows and other birds do. It's all very orderly and efficient.

I wasn't the only one watching the chickadees yesterday. Another familiar visitor was out and about. I'm pretty sure that this is the same young House Finch that I photographed (and blogged about) earlier this summer.

He's looking much more adult now, but he still has a tentative, uncertain air. I didn't ever see him use the feeder, but he did sit on the chickadees' queue branch and watch them for quite awhile. It seemed like he was observing their use of the feeder.

I also saw another return guest. This Bewick's Wren was foraging in the Morning Glory vines along the fence. I haven't seen a BW in months.

And, the young Anna's Hummingbird that I've seen and reported on a couple of times recently was back. In fact, I could hear her periodically throughout the day -- a rapid chirp sound like a high-pitched telegraph key -- but it wasn't until late in the afternoon (when the light was fading) that I managed to get some shots of her.

So, counting the crows who were foraging on the sidewalk and the House Sparrow at the feeder -- not counting the Starlings I could hear in the back yard or the pigeons who I didn't see until evening -- that's five species that I counted standing on my deck, without even really trying hard. None of them were new or unusual, but it was still pretty exciting.

And just to top things off, today I was drawn outside again by the Anna's Hummingbird sound, only to find a totally different bird at the feeder. This one, as you can see, is quite a bit larger and clearly full grown.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

The Nest Generation

2011-09-12T12:40:00.000-07:00

Despite the belated summer weather here in Seattle -- we just went through a record setting late September spell of nine over eighty degree days (after an almost nonexistent spring and unusually cool summer) -- the birds seem to know that fall is coming and they are changing their patterns. I've seen a couple of species back around my yard in the past week that haven't been around much during the summer.

First -- a hummingbird. Anna's hummingbirds were frequent guests in my yard all winter. In fact, on very cold mornings I had to keep rushing outside to make sure that the feeders weren't frozen. I got very good at thawing them out, and keeping two in rotations, one inside the house to stay warm, one outside for the birds until it got too cold.

I haven't seen them much this summer, though. Which seems opposite of what you would expect. But Seattle is a city full of flowers (a blooming city, you could say) and I suspect that the hummingbirds just had plenty of food sources and didn't need my feeders. Now, the blooms are fading and they're coming back.

At least this little gal is. This is an Anna's hummingbird, and though it's not easy to be sure from the photos, probably a female and very likely a juvenile. (You don't have much scale in the photos, but if you could see her in person, and you know Anna's at all, you'd realize she's pretty small.)

(Photo by my roommate Dan)

I also saw this week -- not in my yard, but at a nearby bus stop -- a busy flock of bushtits. These guys are frequent visitors to my yard and suet feeder, and they have also been mostly AWOL during the summer. I was happy to see them back -- they come sweeping in with lots of activity and chirping like a sudden rain squall, and then, just as suddenly they're gone. Off down the road to another yard. I'll be keeping my eyes (and ears -- I frequently hear them before I see them) open for them at home.

(Photo by Dan)


(Photo by Dan)

I mentioned in my last post that I had seen a Steller's Jay eating on the rail with Timmy (my resident pigeon). I got a few photos of him, and roommate got some more soon after. You might not think it's the same Jay from the different angles in the photos, but I'm pretty sure he is. And if you look closely at the photos you can see, at the corner of his bill a trace of a lighter color. That, most likely, is the remnant of gape flanges which allow juvenile birds to open their beaks extra wide (to "gape" in other words) so that they can be fed by their parents. In a fully mature Steller's Jay the beak is dark all the way down, with no lighter coloring visible. That means this guy is very likely one of this year's fledglings. It also might explain why he's on his own and looking for new sources of food.

A sad note: One of my personal heroes passed away recently. Sarge the Elderbull was a tireless advocate for his breed, for dog lovers (and dogs who love dog lovers) and for the welfare of shelter dogs everywhere. You can check out this sweet remembrance of him at Stubby Dog, as well as their loving obituary. Also, you can check out Sarge's own site at Elderbulls and his Facebook page. Sarge was a true American hero. Thank you to Sarge and to his human family who carry on his work.

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You can also enjoy my recent article "Crazy Flickers" over at 10,000 Birds. They have a great site, well worth checking out even if I wasn't included.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

The Island (Yard) of Misfit Birds

2011-09-08T09:15:00.000-07:00

Things have been hoppin' in Pigeon Town.

Timmy!

As I've mentioned before, I have a resident "special needs" pigeon named Timmy who lives (or at least hangs out most of the time, I don't actually know where he roosts) around my house. Timmy was briefly trapped in our attic last year when we evicted his parents and sealed up the opening. We were sure everyone was out, but it turns out Timmy wasn't, and was trapped in the attic for several days. I'd feel even if I hadn't noticed before that Timmy was a weird bird. Special. At least I know that the trauma we accidentally inflicted on him is not the cause of his oddness.

Timmy's Plus One

Timmy (who despite his behavioral issues is a big, beautiful and healthy looking pigeon) now has a friend. Who I call "Timmy's Plus One". Of course I can't tell a male a pigeon from a female pigeon even if they're dressed for the prom, so I don't know whether Timmy is male or his friend is female, or the other way around. They could both be males or both be females for all I know (not that there's anything wrong with that). But pigeons are known to mate for life, and these two seem to be a couple.

(I've read speculation on how birds recognize each other and distinguish gender -- in many birds it's easy because differences in coloration or size are so striking -- but in birds like pigeons and crows, who don't show much sexual dimorphism, it's more of a puzzle. Mammals do it mainly by smell, and by visual cues in some species, for instance primates whose noses are not good. Most birds have only a rudimentary sense of smell -- so there must be other kinds of cues. I would suggest looking at them more in the infra-red part of the spectrum, which we can't see naturally but they can. Could it be they have hidden patterns on them like some flowers do, or that the oils in their feathers show some difference in those wavelengths? I haven't been able to find any photos of birds in the infrared, but I'd be curious to know if anyone has explored it.)

Lately, there have been two other pigeons dropping by (I unfortunately do not have photos of them yet). They are both unusual in their own way -- mostly white with gray mottling. One of them is almost albino.

I have observed -- and have also read -- that pigeons sometimes seem to shy away from the "odd" members of their flock, and that unusual coloration may make a bird unwelcome. But I'm not totally sure that's true. The Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology, as part of their Celebrate Urban Bird project has Project Pigeon Watch, a chance for citizen scientists to contribute their observations, and one of their goals is to study how different color patterns among feral pigeons effect mating. Anyway, these two pigeons have been hanging around lately and I started wondering if maybe our yard was becoming a sort of island of misfit birds. Like Timmy, these guys might be less at home in the big flocks that hang out down the road in White Center. I've often observed the two mottled pigeons eating on my rail together, and I've seen them eating along with Timmy's friend. I've never actually seen Timmy eating with them though.

Saturday, I finally saw them together, and it got pretty exciting. First, I saw Timmy's friend on the rail with one of the white birds. They were eating together like usual, and then suddenly a fight broke out. Timmy's friend and the mottle pigeon were going at each other up and down the rail for about a minute, and then they both flew off.

I thought maybe the food was getting low and that sparked the argument. So I went out and put more food on the rail. A little while later Timmy and his friend came back and while they were eating the mottle pigeon showed up again. This time, Timmy got into it with him. It even looked like Timmy attacked first. There was a brief squabble and then all three birds took off. I was standing in the front door watching and one of the pigeons -- I think it was Timmy -- flashed by just a few feet from my face with a loud crack of his wings. Timmy, who is by far the biggest of the pigeons that visit here, seemed to have things well in hand.

That wasn't the end of the excitement though. Timmy and his friend came back a little later. I was watching from inside, under the window blinds. I could see Timmy, clearly recognizable by his banded wings, and it seemed like there was another pigeon too -- but a very small one. I got closer to window and caught my breath. It wasn't a pigeon at all.

It was a Steller's Jay.

This is the Jay that was eating with Timmy.

Last winter, and well into the spring, the Jays were frequent visitors to my yard. They come swooping in with their wings spread wide, looking like a caped superhero and announcing their arrival with loud screeches. I haven't seen them in a while, but all day Saturday I kept hearing them. When I was out for a walk with my dog Lulubelle, and when I took my "puppy" Zeke to the park, I could hear the Jays but I never saw them. And now here he was.

So, fighting pigeons and then Timmy sharing dinner with a Jay -- that's lot of adventure for one Saturday afternoon.

For previous posts about Timmy and pigeons see "Around the Yard and Around the Web", "Pigeon Watch" and "Timmy!"

You can also enjoy my recent article "Crazy Flickers" over at 10,000 Birds. They have a great site, well worth checking out even if I wasn't included.

Birdland West readers will be interested in my review of Feathers: The Evolution of a Natural Miracle by Thor Hanson, which is posted now at Books and Beasts. It's a great book and a must read for all bird lovers. Check out the review here.

Spiders! (and a butterfly too)

2011-08-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

When in doubt, ask for help.

Zeke as a tiny puppy in the plot that now holds kale flowers.

Normally, I am pretty careful to identify the subjects of my photos before I post them. Today, however, I'm having some trouble with IDs, and so I decided to get some help from readers.

Because bird activity has been slow in my yard the last couple of weeks, I have turned my attention to the small denizens. Warmer weather in August, plus the decay of the cherry tree crop, and the still blooming flowers brought out the insects. And the insects brought out the spiders. At any given time my front yard seems to be host to a dozen or more spider webs -- some of them quite large.

Before I get to the arachnids, though, let me present one visitor who I can (I'm almost certain) identify.

This lady is an example of what is commonly called the "Cabbage White" butterfly (Pieris rapae). I happen to have in my yard a Kale plant which has gone to flower (it belongs to my dog Zeke now, who thinks kale is great to eat and even better to pee on), as well as some flowering wild green bean plants. These butterflies (which are supposed to be fond of cruciferous vegetable flowers) seem to really like both plants. The guide that I consulted says that you can tell the sex of the individual by the number of spots on the wing -- one for male, two for female. Making this one a "she".

Now back to the spiders (and other arachnids).

The most exciting find, to me, was this one. Of the type commonly called "granddaddy long-legs" and more formally known as harvestmen. Technically (and I didn't know this until I started looking him up) harvestmen are not spiders at all. They are closely related arachnids. I was really fascinated with this guy (odds are, any spider-like individual you see is female, I think -- but how would I know for sure?) because I had just finished reading an article about newly discovered fossils that show harvestmen ancestors from around 300 million years ago who are virtually unchanged from the ones we know today. That would make them among the earliest known land animals to assume their modern form. Pretty exciting to think that after all those millions of years they are still stalking around my front yard.

These other spiders, I am embarrassed to say, I have not identified.

Look at these guys closely and see if you know what they are. I'm a little obsessive about identifying things and then reading about them, so any information you can provide to point me in the right direction would be great. I'll give credit in a future post to whoever comes up with the right ID.

Thanks.

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If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

A Sad Digression

2011-08-18T17:18:00.000-07:00

I planned to post my first attempts at butterfly photography this week (they're still coming; you don't get off that easy). But after being disconnected for a few days with the flu, I came back online this morning to a very sad piece of news. Sad, but not unexpected or unpredicted.

Those of you who have checked out my other blog, Books and Beasts, will know that I've written a couple of times about wild animals in entertainment. In fact, a piece I wrote earlier this year about elephants is probably my most viewed blog post. But the abuse goes on.

A number of news outlets are reporting this week that a female elephant, named Sarah, collapsed Sunday night outside the Honda Center in Anaheim, CA, following a show. What makes this case particularly upsetting is that Ringling Brothers was cited earlier this year for "failing to adequately treat Sarah for a pus-like discharge present during urination". (According to the Huffington Post quoting both USDA documents and eyewitnesses from Animal Defenders International.) Sarah is 54 years old, and has been owned by Ringling Brothers for 43 years. She was captured in the wild in Asia in 1957.

Animal Defenders International has released this video of Sarah.

I have had my own experience with how disingenuous the Ringling Brothers people can be. (See Tears for Elephants for more details.) They want to present themselves as wholesome family entertainment -- and even as supporters of conservation -- but they're not. They're an outmoded form of entertainment built on crass exploitation and cruelty to animals. It's no more wholesome or acceptable than dog fighting. And it needs to stop. Now. (You can check out the Huffington Post article, or Animal Defenders website, or my previous article for more details.)

This topic is especially apropos for those of us in Western Washington, because in just a couple of weeks -- on Septermber 1st through 5-- Ringling Brothers will be in Kent, Washington, at the ShoWare Center. Then they will be in Everett, WA at the ComCast Center on September 5-11. We should certainly encourage Kent and Everett not to support Ringling Brothers

I am asking all my readers to take action -- and speak up for Sarah and others like her. To start with, you can urge Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack to take action. Sara should be taken away from Ringling Brothers and sent to an animal sanctuary where she has a chance of getting the medical care she needs.

Tom Vilsack, Secretary of Agriculture, USDA
1400 Independence Avenue SW
Washington DC 20250
phone (202) 720-3631
fax (202) 720-2166
AgSec@usda.gov

But rescuing Sarah is only the beginning. The use of wild and exotic animals in entertainment needs to be ended. One way to help bring this about is by helping to educate people about the problem. And by encouraging our local governments and events centers not to host these events.

You can contact the ShoWare Center, to let them know how you feel about Ringling Brothers coming to our area, by calling 253-856-6777.

You can also contact the city of Kent by calling the Mayor's Office at 253-856-5700 or the City Council's Office at 253-856-5712.

Here are some sites to check out for information before you call or write, so you can be as specific as possible in your complaints:

PAWS (Progressive Animal Welfare Society) in Lynwood, WA.
Born Free USA

The Elephant Sanctuary in Tennessee (this one is guaranteed to make you feel hopeful again)

And information on local protests against the Ringling Brothers shows can be found at NARN (Northwest Animal Rights Network)

Please do whatever you can to help Sarah and others like her.

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If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Success at last! (Sort of)

2011-08-11T11:09:00.000-07:00

After spending most of the summer looking for them, I finally spotted a juvenile House Finch this week. I thought I had seen him twice before, but I didn't get a good enough look or any photos to confirm it. Then, Sunday morning, there he was.

If you read my blog occasionally you probably know that the adult House Finches have been regular guests here throughout the year. I was pretty sure that they were nesting nearby, and was hoping to see fledglings before the summer was done. House Finches sometimes nest late in the summer -- in fact, they can sometimes produce two broods in a season -- but as weeks went by I began to worry that I'd missed them, or they weren't going to show this year.

So you can imagine my excitement when I finally spotted this guy. His nascent coloring identifies him as a male, in the transitional stage to adult plumage. I was sure that I'd finally found my Finch couple's kids.

House Finch Couple

Only, it's not quite that simple. According to my naturalist friend, Kevin, House Finches only molt once a year, and since this guy is transitioning, the chances are he's one of last year's fledglings. House Finches don't migrate; they stay here all year round, so it's entirely possible that he's from the same family. Possible, but not guaranteed. Kevin gave me a quick lesson in the family dynamics of House Finches. Unlike many songbirds, they form new pair bond's each breeding season -- the couple I've been observing may not have been together last year, and may not pair up next year. Also, young birds disperse, immigrating to new areas and emigrating in from other areas to mix up the gene pool. All my House Finch friends could be from one family, or they could be totally unrelated. Short of inviting them in for a DNA test, it's very hard to be sure.

Still, the juvenile House Finch was on my wish list this year, and I got to see one at last.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Around the Yard and Around the Web

2011-08-08T11:29:00.000-07:00

Crows are geeks.

And if you have any doubt, let me offer some evidence. This crow is clearly an "early adopter". I photographed him this weekend helping himself to cherries in the cherry tree.

Even though the cherries are very ripe, most of the birds haven't quite gotten around to feasting on them yet. (Although, Saturday night, coming home from a monthly poker game, my roommate and I surprised a raccoon in the tree. He -- actual gender unknown -- was pretty small, so I'm guessing he was one of this year's crop. I got to see his masked face for just a second before he vanished into the shadows. ) The crow however is on top of things, and getting first jump on the cherries.

It continues to be an exciting year for fledglings and juveniles. At least one group of House Sparrow young'uns is coming of age around my yard. I now have photos of them at several stages of development. I suspect that there is more than one group though, because I took some photographs of slightly older fledglings a week or so before I caught shots of younger ones. (You can see those photos here and here.)

Saturday morning there was a juvenile House Sparrow raising quite a ruckus in the front yard. It went on for almost ten minutes with him flitting from bush to bush. I never did figure out what he was so agitated about, and eventually he quieted down and went back to his normal routine. But I did get some good shots while he was pontificating.

Timmy's Friend

Timmy!

I also managed to get some good shots of my resident Pigeon Timmy, along with his frequent companion. Timmy is the larger pigeon with the lighter colored wings. I have also noticed a new pigeon in the neighborhood -- a thin, mostly white pigeon that I haven't seen until recently. I'll keep an eye on this new arrival and see if I can get some photos.

The great challenge of the season, for me, remains the House Finch fledglings. The couple has been here almost all year, and I was pretty sure they were nesting nearby, but so far I have no definitive proof of juvenile finches. I saw some birds recently on the rail that could have been the elusive youngsters, but I didn't get a good enough look, and couldn't get any photos. Like Captain Ahab, though, I will continue to pursue them.

Updates, Follow-ups and interesting links

I was very happy to be included in the most recent Carnival of Evolution. If you haven't seen it (or don't know what a blog carnival is -- I didn't until recently) it is basically a regular round up of blog writing on a certain topic -- in this case evolution, which is broad enough to include many things. My recent post Game Show Pigeons and Ball Playing Dogs was included and I've been gratified to see a nice up-tick in viewings as a result. If you're interested in biology, evolution, science writing or any number of related topics I suggest you check it out. It comes out monthly and is hosted on a different blog each time. This edition was hosted on Lawrence E. Moran's blog Sandwalk -- which is, itself, well worth checking out. (There's even a musical interlude called "Cambrian Explosion" that you really have to see.)

There are blog carnivals, by the way, on all kinds of topics. If you're curious, you can check out Blog Carnival to get an idea of what's out there.

One of the people who found my posting from the carnival was Roslyn Dakin, a PhD student from Kingston, Ontario. Turns out, she also has an interest in the Monty Hall problem. Her take is somewhat different than mine and well worth checking out. In fact, her whole blog is very rewarding. You can check out her Monty Hall article here, and her most recent posts here.

And, finally, there's a great article in the Grand Forks Herald recently, by Herald editor/publisher Mike Jacobs. "Target Species Enrich Birding Experience", about the joys and expenses of having a birding wish list. (I have a wish list -- both local and more farfetched -- which I'll be sharing in the near future.)

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Updating the Yard LIst

2011-08-01T11:03:00.000-07:00

Summer has finally come to Seattle and we've had a stretch of mostly dry, warm weather. The wildflowers are blooming in the garden (which was taken over by weeds before they arrived). And the Seattle Mariners followed up their surprisingly good first half with a club record 16 straight losses in July. Yikes.

But on to the wildlife.

Sunday morning I was looking out my window and I spied an unlikely couple having breakfast together. They're both frequent visitors to the feeders, but I've never seen them together before. There they were, just chowing down like old friends. I had to take the pictures through the window, because there's no way I could have gotten out on the deck without both of them taking off. They hung out for about ten minutes, not the least bit concerned with each other.

Sunday Brunch with a pal.

My dog Lulubelle routinely flushes the squirrels off the porch in the mornings. It's impressive to see them leap into the branches of the cherry tree. The House Finch has been here since winter. He and his mate are here almost every day. I haven't seen any young finches though.

Speaking of the cherry tree, it is heavy with fruit. Most of it is beyond human reach (unless you know someone with one of those cherry picker trucks). However, the ripe fruit usually brings a burst of bird activity. As soon as some of the fruit begins to fall I expect to see robins and many other birds congregating in the yard. Last year, it also brought a raccoon. They're always around the neighborhood but we very rarely see them. I'll be keeping my eyes on the tree in the evenings, though, hoping to get a good shot.

My second discovery was even more exciting, because it was a new species for the yard list. Over the weekend I saw a bird with a lot of bright orange on its undersides. I thought it might be the Black Headed Grosbeak who was here earlier in the winter, but who I never managed to get good photos of. This time I was able to get some good shots, but when I looked at them it wasn't the Grosbeak at all. It was someone I've never seen in the wild before (although I've seen them a number of times at the wildlife rehab center.)

Recognize him? (Because of the blackness of his hood and tail, I'm assuming he's male, since the females are supposed to have a greyer coloring, but I'm not totally certain about that).

Yep, that's a Spotted Towhee. Beautiful bird isn't he? There were actually two of them in the yard at the same time. I don't know if they were a couple, or just buddies. My guide says they prefer to eat off the ground, but these guys were eating at the feeder. I guess they didn't read the guide.

With the good weather expected this week I hope to get outside a lot and find some new interesting activity to report.

And just in cast you're interested, this is my Yard List since moving to West Seattle last summer (not counting the Red-Tailed Hawk who was mobbed by crows in the tree across the street):

June 2010 through December 31, 2010

American Goldfinch (winter plumage)
American Robin
Anna's hummingbird
Bewick's Wren
Black Capped Chickadee
American Crow
Dark-eyed Juncos
European Starlings
Northern Flicker
Red-breasted Nuthatch
Rock Pigeons
Steller's Jay

Jan 1st 2011 through June 21st 2011

House Finch
Song Sparrow
Yellow-rumped warbler
Bushtit
House Sparrow
Black-Headed Grosbeak
Wilson's Warbler

June 22nd 2011 through _____

Rufus Hummingbird
Spotted Towhee

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Pigeon Watch

2011-07-27T10:45:00.000-07:00

I was talking about pigeons. (Here)

The common pigeon -- the Rock Dove or Rock Pigeon familiar to city dwellers around the world -- is one of those ubiquitous creatures -- like crows -- that we see so often that we almost don't see them at all. Not as flashy or charismatic as crows, they have been with us for a very long time. Though most of us don't see them this way, pigeons belong to a select group of animals -- along with dogs, horses and possibly cats -- that have been companions of humans and contributors to our civilization for thousands and thousands of years.

Ballard (Seattle, WA) June, 2009

Just consider this: all the Rock Pigeons around the world are the descendants of domesticated birds. We know that, between five and ten thousand years ago, Egyptians were using pigeons to carry messages up and down the Nile. We also know that there were already feral pigeons living in the streets of ancient Rome, pretty much the way they do now. They were introduced into North America probably in the 1600's from Europe, and the Army was still using them to send messages as late as World Wars I and II. Properly speaking, they are not wild birds; they are feral -- domesticated animals that have returned to the wild. Sort of. You don't find many Rock Pigeons out in the forest (where their wild cousins do still live -- in this area, we have Band-Tailed Pigeons and Mourning Doves for instance). They are urban animals. Or, if you prefer (I do), civilized.

Many of these stories, and much more, are related in Pigeons: The Fascinating Saga of the World's More Revered and Reviled Bird by Andrew D. Blechman. I first read this book a couple of years ago, and have gone back to it many times to check on certain anecdotes or re-read certain stories. It is a rich, fascinating popular science book that not only gives us the history of the bird, but also introduces us to the incredible cast of characters and subcultures that have grown up around pigeons in the present day. From weird pigeon hunts to racers to oddball environmentalists to good old fashioned breeders. The pigeon has inspired more hate and love than just about any other bird (People as diverse as Charles Darwin, who bred pigeons while developing his theory of natural selection, and Mike Tyson, who has been a lifelong lover of pigeons, raised them as a child, and reputedly had his first fight with an older boy who killed one of his birds.)

TheCornell Lab of Ornithology has a special "Urban Bird Project" and as part of that project they have "Operation Pigeon Watch". Now, next to watching dogs play, and seagulls fly, and the endlessly inventive antics of crows, there are few things I find more entertaining than pigeons. (Okay, Jennifer Aniston, but that's a whole different topic.) So when I found out about project Pigeon Watch, I was hooked. As I've mentioned before, I have a resident pigeon at my house who I call Timmy. I call him a special needs pigeon because he seems to be a little ... well, handicapped. But he's a big, beautiful healthy looking pigeon none-the-less. Lately, Timmy has been showing up with a friend. I think of "her" as Timmy's girlfriend, but of course I have no idea of either of their genders. She's smaller than Timmy, with darker colored wings.

Timmy!

There are something like 28 "morphs" -- or different color patterns -- recognized for the feral Rock Pigeon, but Cornell's Pigeon Watch has narrowed it down to five. Timmy, for instance, is a "checker" because of the checker like pattern on his wings. Checker's can vary from light gray with a little black, like Timmy, to much darker patterns. I believe that Timmy's friend (who is shier and harder to photograph) might also be a checker, but with much darker wing patterns than Timmy's.

Timmy's "parents", West Seattle, summer 2010

One of the goals of the pigeon watch program is to observe mating habits among pigeons and learn which morphs mate with which others (to determine if they show a preference). I had a chance to observe Timmy's parents, when I first moved here -- the birds I assume were Timmy's parents because they were all sharing a nest -- and I believe I witnessed courting behavior several times. Pigeons court throughout the year, although (according to Cornell and other sources) they are more likely to mate in late winter or early spring. Once they mate though, they mate for life. I don't have the opportunity to observe the rest of the family any more, as they are all gone. But I will be watching Timmy and his friend whenever I get the chance.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Game Show Pigeons and Ball Playing Dogs

2011-07-21T13:20:00.000-07:00

You have to bear with me for a second, but this will get around to birds, I promise.

Timmy, my resident "special needs" pigeon.

Over at Sciencewriter.org (possibly the coolest domain name ever), Davide Castelvecchi, who is a physical sciences and mathematics editor at Scientific American, has been stirring up controversy recently by revisiting what's known as "The Monty Hall Problem". If you're not familiar with it -- where have you been? It's been discussed over the years everywhere from hard science magazines to Car Talk. It's derived from the problem that Monty Hall often presented to contestants on Let's Make A Deal. You have three curtains. Behind one of them is a car, and behind each of the other two is a worthless gag gift (like a donkey). (I know, I know -- who says a donkey is worthless? But that's not the point of the problem). You have to pick one of the curtains. Let's say you choose number One. After you make your choice, Monty reveals what's behind one of the other curtains, and the one he reveals is always a donkey. Let's say Monty opens number Two. Then, he offers you a choice. Do you want to keep the curtain you chose, or do you want to trade?

Monty's problem (not my photo, obviously).

For most of us, our intuitive guess is that it doesn't matter. We had a one in three chance of picking right the first time and that hasn't changed. Or, conversely, since there are now two unopened curtains, we have a fifty-fifty chance. Either way, switching can't increase our odds.

It turns out though, that isn't true. Statistically you are always better off switching. In fact it almost doubles your chances. I'm not good with this sort of math so I'll just refer you over to those who are -- and if you want to argue about it (as a lot of people do, judging by the comments section) you can argue with them. Proving the solution isn't really my point here. (Check it out here.)

The reason this came up again at Scientific American, though, is because of an article they published back in January of this year. John Allen Paulos, a mathematician at Temple University, noted that pigeons didn't seem to have the same difficulty with the Monty Hall Problem that humans do. On the contrary, pigeons (being good empiricists, as Paulos says) learn the best strategy after only a few tries. (You can see the article here.)

A few years ago another scientist -- Tim Pennings, a Professor at Hope College in Michigan -- was playing fetch with his dog, throwing a tennis ball into the water for the dog to retrieve. The dog, Elvis, would run along the shore and at some point plunge into the water toward the ball. What Pennings found was that, in most cases, Elvis was choosing a path that closely approximated the optimal path (the path with the shortest travel time) to the ball. The path can be worked out using fairly complicated calculus equation -- but Elvis seemed to be doing it "in his head" and "on the fly". (Again, I'm not going to try to explain the math -- you can look into it more here if you're interested.)

Precision landings almost every time.

These kind of remarkable abilities are everywhere in nature. The small songbirds in my yard routinely land on the thin perches of a bird feeder that is swaying in the wind -- and they do so coming from across the yard, setting their trajectory as they approach. Only a couple of times have I ever seen a bird have to pull up and come at it again. Squirrels leap from the rail of my deck to the cherry tree nearby, and catch the thin branches, which again are often swaying in the wind. Birds also fly through the cherry tree despite its dense branches and (at this time of year) leaves. They can fly straight through and out the other side. Imagine trying to write a computer program to pilot something the size of a chickadee through such a complex space, complicated more by ever changing light conditions, wind turbulence, and so on. The amount of calculation that it requires is staggering.

The catch looks easy, but try writing a program to do it.

But let's not leave humans out. Ichiro Suzuki does the same thing nearly every day. When an outfielder hears the crack of the ball leaving the bat and starts to run, he has time for almost no conscious thought about where it's going or how to get there. Again, it's a complex mathematical problem solved on the fly -- timing his leap to catch the ball just before it goes over the wall. And I've seen dogs playing with Frisbees or tennis balls who were as good as any major leaguer.

The greatest ball player I've ever known.

Paulos warns against the mistake of thinking that these abilities reflect some kind of conscious knowledge on the part of animals. Of course, they don't. They represent the problem solving ability wired into brains over billions of years of evolution. (And in the case of dogs -- and to some degree pigeons -- of tens of thousands of years of intense breeding). Corgis, for instance, are herding dogs, whose job was to keep livestock moving in one direction. The ability to foresee the movements of a sheep and set your own course to intercept it effectively is not all that different from what Elvis was demonstrating on the beach.

If you want to drive the unconscious nature of these faculties home, I invite you to walk into a room sometime and ask if anyone there is good at calculus. When almost everyone predictably says no, toss a tennis ball to one of them. Almost certainly, they will catch it, and when they do you can show them (with the help of a mathematician friend, if you're like me) the equation that describes what they just did. We're all better at math than we think.

The furor over the Monty Hall problem does show, however, that for us humans our conscious thinking sometimes gets in the way. I learned this a long time ago in art school. One of the reasons why it's so hard for many people to learn to draw is because what we "know" about objects (say the size and form of a table) gets in the way of what we actually see before us. Most people asked to draw a table will draw an abstract representation of a table instead of the object they see before them, which is skewed by perspective and point of view and really looks nothing like our idealized notion of "table".

Oh, and I wanted to get back to pigeons. More on that very soon.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

A Flock of New Books for Birders

2011-07-18T10:54:00.000-07:00

When I first got into birding, not that long ago, I did what I usually do with a new interest: I read obsessively. And quickly discovered that birds and birding are subjects about which much (unbelievably much) is written. The first things I checked out were Field Guides, since they're everywhere. Someday soon maybe I'll write a little about Field Guides and my experience with them. For now, I'll just say that the guide I use most is Birds of the Puget Sound Region by Bob Morse. It works nicely for almost all of the birds I commonly encounter and is a little more wieldy than some of the bigger regional guides. I am very pleased with it and consult it almost daily.

But if there's one thing I love as much as birds and wildlife, its books. So here are some of the best new birding books I've come across this summer:

The Joy of Birding: A Beginner's Guide by Kate Rowinski is a book I would have eagerly welcomed when I stared out -- and it's still very rewarding now. This is one of the best single volume introductions to birding I've seen. She begins at the birth of our fascination with birds, and with a perennial question: Are you a Birder or a Bird-Watcher? From there, Rowinski goes on to give us an introductory course in understanding birds, their behavior, habitats, food sources, calls, the basic families of birds and how they differ -- it's like Ornithology 101 with a passionate, knowledgeable and always entertaining teacher. My one disappointment here was that her list of "25 Backyard Birds You Should Know" was slanted somewhat toward the eastern United States. A lot of the birds she describes I will never see in my Seattle yard. But she goes on to cover feeders, recipes for special bird treats (Passerine Power Bars and Christmas Brunch Bark, for instance), ideas for turning your yard into a sanctuary, creating your life list, and even bird photography. (And as much photographing of birds as I do, I found her section very helpful.) This is a book not just for the bare beginner, but for all of us who have become involved in birding and bird watching and are now ready to explore new possibilities. Because it provides a good introduction to so many areas, I suspect that a lot of us will find something here to broaden and deepen our relationship to birds.

And if your interest is primarily in backyard bird watching and how to turn your yard into a haven for feathered friends (and other wildlife too, possibly) a very good next step would be Julie Zickefoose's wonderful book Backyard Birding: Using Natural Gardening to Attract Birds. (This book was written along with the editors and writers of Bird Watcher's Digest). As someone who knows very little about gardening -- or about plants for that matter -- I was a little bit intimidated by the prospect of this book. My own efforts at gardening have been small and inconclusive so far. (Check it out here). However, this is a delightful book, well organized, beautifully laid out and illustrated, which I think will appeal to both experienced gardeners who want to make their efforts more bird friendly and to birders, like myself, who might not know much about gardening, but want to attract more birds. Zickefoose packs this book with a wealth of information about layers of habitat, kinds of feeders and food, seasonal variations, bird friendly plants (and discussions of the importance of native plants), and even a little philosophy about living more harmoniously with nature. This is a great book to follow up the previous selection, going more in depth about these particular topics. Whether you want to go all out in creating a sanctuary or just want to add a few plants and features that will make your yard more attractive to birds this book is a trove of ideas.

Along the same lines, but more specialized, Bill Thompson III & Connie Toops have written Hummingbirds and Butterflies (also a Bird Watcher's Digest book and part of the Peterson Field Guides series). It's a wonderful overview of two groups that seem very distinct -- hummingbirds, or course, are birds and butterflies are insects -- but that appeal to us for many of the same reasons and are attracted to the same kinds of habitat. I know a little bit about hummingbirds and almost nothing about butterflies (although now I'm getting interested, and in another year or so I may have these authors to blame for igniting a new obsession) but I was absolutely enthralled by the information provided on both groups -- as well as the beautiful photography. I think I learned as much about hummingbirds here as I have from any other source I've consulted. And since I was a total ignoramus about butterflies, I got to gorge myself on new information (always one of my favorite forms of binging.). In addition to all this, though, they have species guides that provide wonderful information in a format that will be familiar to anyone who uses field guides. The book is probably a little too heavy to take into the field comfortably, but since it (like the previous books) focuses a good bit on creating an environment that will attract these beauties to your yard, it is an excellent home reference.

Moving from the easier to the more advanced, I'd like to round out with two books that really push the edges of my competence as a birder and a reviewer. The Kaufman Field Guide to Advanced Birding, by Kenn Kaufman, is an incredibly rich, dense collection of expert information on identifying birds. Recognizing that birders today have a huge amount of information available to them in books, on the internet, even over their phones, Kaufman hasn't tried to produce another species by species guide -- rather, he has focused on learning the principles of identification that can make us expert birders. He begins with the general, the principles and approaches that are common to all birding -- avian physiology, terminology, general techniques for recognizing types of birds, bird calls -- and then he proceeds to apply the same approach to almost every category of bird, showing us how to apply these principles in field situations, what to look for, where the common pitfalls lie, and how to overcome the challenges. This is definitely not a book that you sit down and read straight through. This is a book to be studied and re-studied over a long period of time. Much of the information he presents is totally beyond my current level as a birder, but I've already found his ideas and approaches affecting the way I observe birds. I'm sure this is a book that will continue to teach me and influence my birding for years to come.

And finally, the most esoteric of the books I've looked at recently. Bird Feathers: A Guide to North American Species by S. David Scott and Casey McFarland. This book was first recommended to me by a friend who is an expert tracker, and it definitely falls into the advanced category. Last month, I reviewed Feathers: The Evolution of a Natural Miracle by Thor Hanson (you can see the review here) a book I enjoyed immensely, and this present volume would have been nice to have around for reference while I was reading that book. The introductory section of Bird Feathers provides a great overview of feathers, their different forms, structures and purposes. It also has a great section on flight -- the different styles of flight of various groups of birds and how their wings and feathers are adapted to that style. It is one of the best general overviews of these subjects that I have ever seen, and if there was nothing else in the book, it would still (to me) be worth the price. The latter part of the book, however, eludes me. Not because of any faults in the book but because, quite frankly, I'm just not ready to make use of it. This is a detailed field guide to the feathers of most North American species, with measurements and descriptions. It would take a lot of study and experience for me to learn to make use of this part of the book, and many birders probably aren't ready to go that deeply into such a specialized pursuit. For those that are -- or for those like me who just want a good overview of how feathers and wing shape and flight are adapted to the lifestyles and behaviors of different birds -- this is a great book. And who knows, it might still inspire me to pursue feather identification more seriously.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Fledglings in Seattle, Gulls in New Jersey

2011-07-12T12:20:00.000-07:00

The beautiful summer weather that we had over the Fourth of July weekend has given way again to the cool, cloudy days we've been accustomed to this spring. The yard is quiet, not much going on. The dogs are restless and not happy about being inside. I've been spending too much time at the computer and not enough time outdoors.

Hose Sparrow fledgling. His gape flanges are still visible at the corners of his beak

But the big excitement continues to be fledglings. Day before yesterday there was a loud, insistent chirping in the cherry tree outside. (The cherries are starting to ripen, and when that happens we'll have all kinds of excitement around here for a couple of weeks.) It sounded almost like the demanding voices of baby birds in the nest. Working at a wildlife rehabilitation center, where the baby birds have to be fed constantly throughout the day, I've learned to recognize that sound. But I was pretty certain there was no nest in the cherry tree. It took me a long time, moving around on the deck and in the yard, to actually see the guys who were causing all the commotion.

House Sparrow fledglings in the cherry tree.

This is the second batch of fledgling House Sparrows that I've seen. If you remember, about a week ago, I posted a picture of a slightly older HS. These guys are even younger. According to my naturalist friend, Kevin, if you look closely you can still see the yellowish "gape flanges" at the corners of their mouths. The fellow I photographed before didn't have any remaining gape flanges. So far this year the House Sparrows are by far the most prolific (or at least the most obvious) breeders around.

Slightly older House Sparrows form the week before.

Summer is also the time baseball heats up. This year the Seattle Mariners are up and down, but they're managing to hang in the division race, which is a lot more than any of us expected. I love baseball. Safeco Field, which is the Mariners' home, opened in 2001 (the season the Mariner's set an American League record for most games won and Barry Bonds broke the single season home run record) and there is really nowhere better to be on a beautiful summer day in Seattle. It's a beautiful park, and there is literally not a bad seat in the place.

Seagull impatiently waiting for the crowd to leave at Safeco Field.

Seagulls love baseball too. Or at least, seagulls love Safeco Field. I guess they aren't really interested in the game, though, because they usually don't start showing up until about the eighth inning. They seem to have some sense of how long the game lasts, or else they're picking up on other clues, like fans starting to sneak out early to beat the traffic. I would imagine that once the people are gone the gulls have quite a feast on spilled and discarded food.

Ichiro in Yankee Stadium, May 2008. The Mariners got pounded.

Laughing Gull, Atlantic City, NJ. May 2008

Back in 2008 (the last hurrah before the bottom fell out of the economy and my business) I took a trip back east to see the Mariners play at Yankee Stadium. That was the last season the Yankees played in the old stadium -- the House That Ruth Built -- and the baseball lover in me couldn't stand to let them tear it down without seeing it once, in person. I saw one game of the last series the Mariners ever played in that stadium in May of 2008. The Yankees creamed them by the way. Since I had to fly back -- and since it costs a fortune to stay in New York City (see how good I am at rationalizations?) I decided to spend a few days in Atlantic City, rent a hotel room there, and then drive up to New York to see the game. It worked out like that (more or less -- I wasn't really prepared for driving in the Bronx). I spent four days in Atlantic City, playing poker at night and hanging out on the Boardwalk in the day time.

It turns out that the Boardwalk is home to a lot of seagulls -- mostly Laughing Gulls, which are different in several ways with the gulls we're familiar with here in Seattle.

I spent more time photographing gulls, pigeons and the semi-feral boardwalk cats than I did at the casinos, which is good because as much as I love poker, I lost every game I played there.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Identifying Fledglings

2011-07-02T09:31:00.000-07:00

I totally blew the ID on this juvenile Dark-Eyed Junco

As I've mentioned before in this blog, I am pretty new to serious bird watching. It was only after moving out to West Seattle last summer that I was able to put up bird feeders and really spend some time getting to know the local birds -- I've just experienced my first spring here. I wrote in a recent post how I totally blew the identification of a juvenile Dark-eyed Junco. Well, I've gotten several more trips to the plate since then, and my batting average is still low.

Happy to see the next generation of starlings in my yard.

First, here's one I got right. Not too difficult, but I was pleased with myself. The lighter colored birds in with the starlings are this year's fledglings. They don't have the familiar colors yet because (I believe) their feathers are too new and haven't had time to wear down, which is what produces the beautiful spring and summer subtleties of starling attire.

There's a sad postscript to this sighting, however -- well, as is usually the case, how sad it is depends on your point of view. The starlings around my yard have been very active lately, but the other morning I heard them raising such a ruckus that I ran outside to see what was going on. Starlings were flapping all over the yard, hopping from tree to tree, screeching and hollering. It lasted about ten minutes with me trying to get some pictures of them and failing because they wouldn't hold still. Right at the end though, just before they fell silent and flew away, I spotted the likely cause: a rat, heading into the thick bushes with something large in his mouth. I would guess he caught a young or injured starling and was headed back to the den with it. If you remember, I wrote my very first post about starlings and rats squabbling in the yard. They often eat in close proximity to each other on the ground beneath my feeders. But this time the rat got an opportunity, and snatched it.

The rat got his chance and he took it.

Now, back to the happier side of Spring. See if you can do better with the other two juvies:

Do you know who they are?

The hummingbird fooled me. I have only identified Anna's Hummingbirds in my yard before -- they were here all winter, although they seem to have changed their routine for breeding season because I haven't seen much of them in the spring. I thought this bird was smaller than the one's I'm used to seeing, but "smaller" and "larger" are relative terms when you're dealing with Hummingbirds. If the difference is a millimeter and you're a hundred feet way, who can be sure?

This is a juvenile female Rufous Hummingbird

In this case I was right, however. (About the size: I was totally wrong about the ID). That is a juvenile female Rufous Hummingbird -- I had to ask a more knowledgeable person, but you can tell by the rusty color on the flanks and the absence of iridescence.

And the second one? He (no idea of gender here) barely looks old enough to be out of the nest. He is the offspring of birds I have written about several time -- you could go back and check my Invaders post, for instance.

This is a juvenile House Sparrow (gender unknown).

He's a House Sparrow.

My total so far this year is four fledgling species on my property (of which I've correctly identified one without help -- that gives me a .250 batting average, which is not great but will keep you employed in the major leagues, provided you don't make too many errors in the field).

And I'm still hoping to see fledglings from my House Finches too.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Timmy!

2011-06-29T07:10:00.000-07:00

When we moved into this house -- last summer -- there were pigeons in our attic.

Timmy's "parents" -- at least the seemed to be caring for him when we moved in.

We didn't know it was pigeons at first -- we thought it might be squirrels --but observation soon confirmed a family of pigeons. Sexing pigeons is way beyond my ability, but I assumed (because there were three of them nesting together instead of roosting with a flock, and because two of them seemed to be closer to each other) that it was mated pair and offspring. They were beautiful birds. The pigeons out here in West Seattle look much healthier than the birds downtown. Sleeker, more fit, and their colors are brighter. They are also wilder. Pigeons downtown are so acclimated to humans that they come right up to you like aggressive panhandlers -- I once had a pigeon try to take a sandwich out of my hands. But out here they keep their distance and act like wild birds (which they really aren't).

These pigeons seemed like a couple, and seemed to be taking care of Timmy.

It was the third pigeon that was most interesting -- the one I assumed was the offspring. Like the others, he was a good looking bird. But he was a bit odd. In the evenings I often saw him flying around the house, sitting on the deck, approaching all the windows and trying to get in. He would even peck at the glass. I was afraid that he might fly into a window and hurt himself. He seemed unsure about where he wanted to go or what he was doing. And because he seemed a little --- well, handicapped -- we named him Timmy. (South Park fans will understand.)

But the pigeons were really a little bit of a nuisance. They started raiding my bird feeders -- which upset the chickadees, who would sit on the branches and scold them (or scold me for not stopping them, I'm not sure which). Also, there were concerns about damage to the house and contamination -- since they were nesting right over our kitchen. We decided that the pigeons had to go.

So, during the daytime, when the birds were usually gone anyway, my roommate climbed up in the attic and made sure it was empty, and the landlord's maintenance guy sealed up the hole. After that, we didn't see the birds anymore and I assumed that, finding their nesting place sealed, they had moved on. (There are a lot more pigeons just a few miles south of here in the commercial area of White Center).

Except, a day or two later (like something in a Poe story), we heard scratching in the attic again. Could it be that there actually were squirrels up there, and they had another entrance? Squirrels are much better and getting into small spaces than pigeons. After about three or four days we called the maintenance man and he went up into the attic to check it out again.

And found Timmy.

Timmy is really a beautiful bird -- just a little odd.

Somehow, we had missed the poor guy when we secured the attic, and he'd been trapped up there for almost a week. We felt awful. The maintenance man captured him and brought him down. He seemed very confused and disoriented. He stumbled around our yard for a while, then sat on the roof of a neighbor's shed for several hours. We put water up there hoping he would drink it. I was preparing to try to capture him and take him to the wildlife rehab center. But, finally, he flew away.

And we didn't see him much all winter.

There really weren't any pigeons around our neighborhood after that. Every once in a while I would think of Timmy and hope he was doing well. (For some reason, I didn't worry about the other two -- they seemed like capable birds to me. I was sure they'd be okay.)

And then, early this spring, Timmy showed up again. He went back to perching on the drain outside the kitchen. He was looking good, but he still acted a little odd. Timmy seemed to be looking for his old home. Pigeons, after all, are legendary for their homing skills, and even a -- well, handicapped -- bird like Timmy could easily find his way back to the place where he was hatched.

Timmy!

He's been hanging around consistently ever since. I don't know if he flies off at night and joins other pigeons in the roost, but he's frequently here late in the evening and early in the morning. I've started putting food out for him on the rail (which is also popular with Juncos, House Sparrows, and House Finches and -- I'm afraid -- rats). I'm trying to teach my dog, Lulubelle, not to bark at Timmy when he comes to eat. She is dubious.

For now, Timmy has sort of become part of our family.

House Finches, the First Day of Summer, and Baseball

2011-06-21T21:43:00.000-07:00

Finally got a decent photo of the male House Finch, seen here with his mate.

Today is the first day of Summer and I awoke this morning to the song of House Finches. This couple (I assume it's the same couple -- I frequently see them together and never see more than one of each gender at a time) have been around since late winter/early Spring although I've been seeing a lot more of them in the last couple of weeks. The female has posed for some good pictures but the male continues to be very elusive. This morning I saw them eating on the rail of my deck -- food that I put out for our resident (and slightly mentally handicapped, I believe) pigeon Timmy. Juncos, Sparrows, Starlings and the occasional crow also stop by to sample Timmy's food, but this is the first time I've seen the Finches there.

The guides say that House Finches are only seen individually during nesting season, and that other times they tend to form large flocks. I haven't seen any flocks, just this couple, who have been around most of the Spring. But I also haven't seen any fledglings, and I was thinking that it must be late in the season for nesting. But my naturalist friend, Kevin, assures me that it's still very much nesting season for House Finches. "Sometimes they get a late start and may not have fledglings until the middle of July," he says, "or they get an early start and raise two broods of young in one season. Keep your eyes peeled because you still may see some fledglings before the summer is over!"

I will definitely be watching.

Her Majesty, Lulubelle, enjoys the sun and watches for rats on the first day of summer.

I started this blog a little over two months ago (it seems much longer) at the beginning of a spring that has been unusually wet and cool here. We are still well below our average temperatures in Seattle (today it's going to get up to a lovely 75, but it's not going to last -- tomorrow the drizzle comes back). These conditions are creating all kinds of problems. Today on the news I heard that the state's strawberry crop is delayed and may be the latest crop in many years. Here at home my own garden has grown much slower than anticipated and my plans to outfit my yard for hummingbirds this year might have to wait.

Also, there have been an unusual number of bear sightings in the suburbs -- it's been going on for a couple of years but this year it seems even worse. Part of the problem is that the edges of the Greater Puget sound urban sprawl are pushing further and further into the greenbelt areas that the bears depend on. But part of the problem also is the unusually cool weather which has retarded the food sources at higher altitudes and the hungry spring bears are coming down into the inhabited areas to look for food. That often ends badly for the bear.

I hope to bring you more about the bears in the near future.

Back in my first post I featured rats, starlings and Flickers. They're all still here. I haven't seen the Flickers as much lately and they've stopped their incessant banging on the side of the house in the mornings. But I hear them frequently, especially early in the day.

The rats are still here, and multiplying.

The rat is not only still here, but now there are several smaller rats around as well. Obviously, reproduction has occurred. The rats seem quite comfortable in the yard, although my dog Lulubelle, true to her terrier ancestry, keeps a close eye on them and lets them know if they get out of line. (I don't know what the "rules" are for the rats, but Lulubelle does. She's a very rule oriented girl.)

Starlings in their shimmering summer colors

And the starlings, of course, are still here too. They've gone from their brown, brightly spotted winter colors to their resplendent summer iridescent purple and green. That's because earlier in the year their new feathers are growing in, the white tips of which give them the white spots. Now the tips have worn away, and their spring and summer colors shimmer. All About Birds says this unusual way of changing colors is called "wear molt".

Ichiro is hitting again and the Mariners are in contention. What a great way to start summer.

Today -- the first day of Summer -- we are just enjoying the sunshine, watching the birds, waiting for the baseball game to start. (The Seattle Mariners-- who took two games out of three this weekend from the Phillies, the best team in baseball right now -- are in DC today, playing the Washington Nationals, and are one game out of first. Who could have predicted that?) (They lost, giving away a four run lead in the ninth inning -- but it was still a good day.)

And, of course, all of us are hoping for more good weather.

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Newcomers: Birds of Spring

2011-06-16T06:39:00.000-07:00

For the past week or so, I've been seeing a couple of birds in my yard that I couldn't identify. It was hard to get a good look at them, and they looked enough like the sparrows that have been so common this spring that I was getting confused. As usual, my strategy was to take as many photos as possible and let Cannon sort it out.

Yesterday I finally got around to going through the recent photos and I discovered some surprises.

The first mystery bird turned out to be pretty easy to identify. She (yes, in this case she is obviously she) posed for some great photos around the feeder. Her rather nondescript brown coloring had baffled me from a distance, but as soon as I got a good look at her head and beak I was pretty sure I knew who she was. It helps that I know her mate (at least, a male of her species) has been hanging around quite a bit lately. He's much more distinctive and I recognized him right away, even though I haven't gotten a really good photo of him yet. Earlier this year I even got a shot of the couple together on the feeder (or another couple a lot like them).

This is the best photo I've managed to get of the male House Finch, but he is immediately recognizable.

So my first mystery bird was a female House Finch. Even without her boyfriend's flashy colors, she's a handsome bird.

Earlier this spring, I got a picture of a House Finch couple at the feeder.

The second contestant was harder to identify. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that, at first, I thought he (in this case I have no idea what the gender is) was a Song Sparrow. They're not quite as common in my neighborhood as House Sparrows, but they've been around this spring. He has a sparrow-ish shape, and brownish streaking on the breast. But it's not a Sparrow. I had to call in help from a naturalist friend to positively identify this one. Look at the photos and see if you can do better before you read on.

Identifying birds often comes down to details, and as my friend pointed out, the telling clue is in the tail. "See how one outer tail feather on each side of the tail is white?" He asked. "Can you think of a common backyard bird that you see with this pattern on the tail?"

Once you see that, it's a dead give-away. The flashing white tail feathers are so familiar that it's usually all I need to recognize one of my most loyal feeder birds: the Dark-eyed Junco. This little guy is a juvenile, probably a fledgling. And that makes him the first of the new generation that I've positively identified in my yard this year.

Pretty exciting news.

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The Canon Rebel and the Zen of Bird Watching

2011-06-09T07:59:00.000-07:00

I am a photo birder.

Though I've gotten better over the last year (mostly from learning what to look for) I'm still a little weak at "on the wing" identifications. I have photographs (not always good photographs) of every single bird on my yard list and most of the birds on my life list. I feel more confident that way.


Technically, this is not a great photo, but it captures something so specific to the species -- the Junco's tendency to dive straight down toward the ground -- that I really love it.

Plus, you can learn a lot from photos. You can see things -- details of markings, movement, flight and behavior that are hard to catch in real-time observation. And though I like to take a beautiful shot as much as anyone, that's not really my point in shooting wildlife. My goal is to use the camera to expand my ability to see.

The camera that I use is a Canon Rebel XTi. I bought it several years ago and the salesperson described it as the "top of the line of amateur cameras". (It's at least one generation back now, but I'm very happy with it.) The next step up, he said, was to the low-end professional cameras. The XTi is lightweight, which makes it easy to carry, even with a large lens (although you have to learn to compensate for overbalancing when the lens far outweighs the camera). Lately, I've been using a Sigma50-500 HMS lens, a step up (in size and range) from the Canon 75-300mm lens that I used for so long and was very happy with. The reason I switched, initially, was not because I was dissatisfied with the smaller lens, but because it developed a glitch and stopped working with the camera's auto-focus. Otherwise, I would probably still be relying on the 75-300. It is light and versatile -- but mostly because I am a creature of habit.

One of the nice things about Canon is their EOS lens system. Basically, all Cannon SLR cameras use the same set of lenses, which gives you a very wide range of options. They are also compatible with a wide array of lenses from third-party producers. As I said, I've had good luck with my lens from Sigma.

This Bushtit behavior would be very hard to see with the naked eye.

My technique, so far, is really not much of a technique at all. I take my camera with me to all sorts of places -- and most importantly I keep it close to the front door, so that I can get out onto the deck in a hurry. My front yard provides a big part of my birding excitement lately -- I make as many discoveries there as I do when I go on excursions. (Which maybe means I should broaden my areas of excursion?)


This photo is not clear and hard to identify, but along with the next one ...

It makes a positive ID: Black-headed Grosbeak

With the possible exception of writing and playing with my dogs, there is simply nothing in my life as healthy and calming as bird watching and photography. I find that the stillness that it takes to really see the birds around me is meditative. I'm generally not a person who finds it easy to stay still -- much less quiet. Really hearing the birds requires that I stop talking to myself, at least for a little while. I wear glasses -- I see pretty well close up, but not at a distance -- but I have my camera focus adjusted for my uncorrected vision. The slight blurriness of the world when I take off my glasses is actually an asset, I think. (And I can now identify a number of familiar birds without my glasses -- House Sparrows from their markings and their sound, Juncos from the charcoal cowl and the flash of white on their tails, chickadees with the sharp pattern of black-and-white). It allows me to relax and focus more on the entire space around me, rather than the details of one thing. What I'm looking for is motion. Songbirds are all about motion.

In Zen and the Art of Archery, Eugen Herrigel's archery teacher told him, "Don't think of what you have to do, don't consider how to carry it out! ... The shot will only go smoothly when it takes the archer himself by surprise .... " I like that kind of photography.

This Chickadee seems confused, landing on the wrong feeder. But I would guess he's looking for ants.

A flash of yellow could be anyone -- too fast for the eye to tell.

Last week I was out on my deck and I noticed movement in the tall bushes by the sidewalk. Bushtits often forage in those bushes, so that's what I expected at first. As I was bringing the camera up, I saw a flash of bright yellow. Definitely not a bushtit. The bird was moving so fast though, flitting around in the bushes so much that it was almost impossible to get a good look at him. Even through the powerful lens, my eyes couldn't catch him. This is when the features of the Cannon Rebel really come into their own. With the settings on automatic (I usually use the "sports" setting because it shoots so fast), you lose a lot of control over aperture and film speed and such, but the auto-focus is very good. I simply track the motion, shooting as fast as I can. The 50-500 lens takes some getting used to, because of its length and weight. Some people prefer to use it with a tripod, but with small songbirds I find that too restrictive. (Although it could work well at a hummingbird feeder). I have learned to handhold this lens, and I can keep it steady now while I shoot. Don't think of what you have to do, don't consider how to carry it out. The great joy of this kind of shooting is when it takes the photographer himself by surprise. I shot hundreds of frames of my little yellow visitor, and even after I finished, I didn't have a clear idea of who he was. He was moving too fast. With my naked eyes (even with glasses) I never would have gotten a good enough look at him to identify him. Binoculars probably wouldn't have helped much either.

But when I started looking through my shots I found wonderful surprises.

Unmistakably a Wilson's Warbler.

The camera captures what the eye could never see.

If you like Birdland West, you might also want to check out our sister blog Books and Beasts, which focuses on reviews of books about animals and related topics.

Sizing up songbirds: My favorite trick for identifying birds

2011-05-30T15:16:00.000-07:00

What's the first thing you notice when you glimpse a strange bird?

Not too long ago, I didn't know a black-capped chickadee from a Dark-eyed Junco. Of course, I knew a hummingbird when I saw one, and I was familiar with gulls and crows. But I spent too much time in the heart of the city, and I wasn't very good at being still long enough to really see the smaller songbirds around me.

Now, I probably recognize a dozen or more species of songbirds on sight -- sometimes just by the way they move or fly. And though I'm not a very good "by ear" birder, I have learned the songs and calls of many of my most familiar species.


Color and movement command attention. But are they the best keys to identification?

But a couple of unusual visitors in the past week have gotten me to thinking about the perennial bird watcher's question: what is the best way to identify a bird in the field? If you look around at bird books and blogs and magazines you will find endless information and advice on this topic -- much of it very good. But, as a novice myself, I thought it might be helpful to say something about how I have learned to do it in the past year.

So again, what's the first thing you notice when you catch sight of an unknown bird?

Probably color. Color demands our attention. And movement. Location, in a tree, in a bush, on the ground. Songs and calls. All of these are vital clues. But the problem is that there's so much relevant information, and often our chance to observe the bird is so brief, that it can be hard to know what we should pay attention to first.

I've learned a little trick that works very well for me, and often provides a key to figuring out a bird's identity. It's not unique to me -- I've done a lot of reading in the past year and had the opportunity to pick the brains of people who know a lot more than I do -- but I've been able to adapt it to my area and habits. What I've done is train myself to ask a different question first, one that's not nearly as instinctive as some of the others: How big is this bird?

Bushtits are the smallest songbirds in North America.

Among songbirds, size is crucial. Knowing the approximate size dramatically narrows the possibilities. Then the other things I notice -- color patterns, movement, location, song -- all become much more useful, because there are a lot less candidates to choose from.

If you're like I was, you're thinking, "How in the world do you expect me to guess the size of a bird that I see for less than a minute a hundred feet away?" In my mind, when I started out, all small birds were "sparrows" and I was convinced I couldn't tell them apart. Little did I know there was a whole galaxy of smaller-than-sparrow species to learn.

The trick is, you don't have to know how big a bird is in centimeters or fractions of a gram. All you have to know is relative size. How big is the bird compared to species you already know? If you can place him between two species you know, then the task of identifying him becomes much simpler.

Everyone knows Robins, which makes them the perfect beginning metric for birdwatchers.

In my head, I have gradually built up a scale. It will be a little different depending on where you live, and what birds you're familiar with. But you don't have to know a lot of birds to start. Two or three species is enough to start making valuable guesses about size. (Even something as simple as "Is it bigger or smaller than a Robin?" can be very valuable.)

Crows are the largest songbirds most city-people see regularly.

For instance, in my neighborhood, the smallest songbirds around are bushtits. (Actually they're the smallest songbirds in North America, about the size of an Anna's Hummingbird.) And the largest songbirds are Crows. (There are occasional Raven sightings out here in West Seattle, but they are very rare.) Around here, if it's bigger than a crow, it's not a songbird. You're into groups like hawks and gulls then.

My personal scale runs -- roughly -- like this: Bushtits, Black-Capped Chickadees, Dark-eyed Juncos, House Sparrows, Robins, Steller's Jays, Crows. This is a pretty good scale for where I live. Nine times out of ten, if I get a good look (or a good photo) I can pretty quickly place the bird on my scale.

So when I glimpse that unknown visitor in the cherry tree, I ask myself about his size. I know he's bigger than a House Sparrow, not quite as big as a Robin. Once I know that, I can easily leverage whatever other information I have -- orange chest, black head and wings, white bars on the wings -- into a good identification: That's a Black-Headed Grosbeak.

And what could be more satisfying to a bird watcher than that?

(I'd love to hear some of your favorite aids to identification. Feel free to leave them in the comments.)

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