The Quest Continues

I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m a birder and I’ve been keeping a list since 2003. I finally got to 200 birds last year, which was a real milestone for me. So what’s next?

I’ve got the quantity, so I’m going for the quality. Not that the birds already on my list aren’t great! I’ve seen some remarkable birds … but there are still those that aren’t yet on my list. The elusive ones. The maddening ones.

Then there’s the Big One (although it’s small), the bird so amazing that it’s hard to believe it’s real.

The painted bunting.

Click here to see info about Painted Buntings

I look once again in the bird book and shake my head. Not only do I wonder how such a colorful bird can exist, but I wonder how it’s possible I haven’t seen one yet.

It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve searched in areas where they’re supposed to be found. I’ve quizzed my fellow birders. Last year, based on a tip, I found a good place to look, but I was too early in the season. This year I tried again, almost a month later.

Some of you might be asking why I’m doing this, why it matters.

To answer that, let me tell you about last weekend.

The weather was fantastic and I took a well-known highway north of Pittsburg, where I missed my turn (that sign was pretty small!) and had to turn around. Then the paved road turned to gravel, which didn’t make my Toyota very happy. I kept going, though, until I reached the small town of Mulberry, Kansas. I couldn’t remember where I’d gone last year, so I ended up driving around various roads, trying to find a good spot with thickets that might be inviting to a little feathered work of art.

That was the first half hour or so.

Finally I drove along a rural road that looked familiar. Ahead of me I could see a hazy shape in the middle of the road and another perched atop a telephone pole, so I pulled over to use the binoculars. The one in the road was a good-sized turkey and the one on the pole was a kestrel, so I took that as a good sign and parked the car. I walked back along the road and around a corner, where I came upon a chirping field. Actually, it was a field full of chirping birds. I must have tried for ten minutes, but not a single one of those birds showed itself. I’m pretty sure they were dickcissels, which usually perch in plain view, but these were determined to evade me.

So there I stood, staring at a field of birds, none of which I could see, and wondering why I was even there.

Then I heard it.

There was an odd squawk, followed by three little sounds that are hard to describe. I can tell you that I’d never heard that before. It came again: squawk, squawk, followed by almost bell-like sounds, a real contrast. That was intriguing, so I turned my back on the field (if you birds don’t want to be seen, so be it!) and studied the trees on the other side of the road.

Then I remembered a hard rule of birding: it’s easier to bird by sight than by sound. In other words, you can hear the birds (like those in the field) but you might not see them, especially when the trees have all of their leaves. It’s better to watch for movement and then you’ve got something.

I had nothing, except for the sound … which had stopped.

I told myself to walk away because I would never see it in all those leaves. I told myself that it had probably flown away anyway.

But I stayed. And I heard it again. Then I took three steps to my left … and there it was.

It was sitting out on a bare branch in plain sight and singing so I’d know it was the one.

I stared through the binoculars, making little mental notes, although I had already guessed what it was.

Nope. It wasn’t a painted bunting. But it was still pretty cool: a yellow-breasted chat. That was good enough to be #203 on my list!

After that, I drove around some more. I found a beautiful spot with running water (one of my favorite sounds in nature), trees and a preening Eastern Phoebe that let me get a good look at him. I walked along that road to the sound of a calling red-shouldered hawk.

And that’s what it’s all about, I guess. Birding takes me out of my own little world and shows me another one. It lets me meditate on nature, discover the unexpected, feel a sense of accomplishment when I spot and identify a bird. Even when I don’t see anything new, I still see something worth seeing.

And someday I’m going to see that painted bunting.

Transition

Tomorrow is the First Day of Spring.

That phrase means many things to me. It means sunlight, warmth, birds, flowers, baseball, hope. It means I can think about travel and birding and long walks in the park. It means I won't huddle inside, shivering in the darkness even when the furnace is running.

Later, there will be bugs, loud motorcycles, people not wearing enough clothing ... But I won't think about that now.

Phlox in our front yard March 2017

For now, I'll look at the flowers that survived the sudden frost this past week and I'll smile. Winter has been vanquished once again ... at least temporarily.

I wouldn't have it any other way. What I mean is this: I wouldn't enjoy spring if I hadn't had to struggle through winter first. It's only months of neutral colors and chilly temperatures that can make this season so special.

Grape hyacinth in our front yard March 2017

If there were hyacinth blooming all year long, would I even notice them after a while? Probably not. If there were mockingbirds here all the time, would I cherish the first time I hear that unique series of songs and calls coming from atop a telephone pole? Nope. If I had to mow the grass all year long, would the sight of green in the yard make me happy? Certainly not.

I salute winter for making me appreciate spring. I can still recall snuggling under a pile of covers, happy to be safe and warm, dreaming of long days and a time when I could put hats, gloves and coats into storage. I'm grateful that winter gives way for a while, allowing us to take a deep breath of fresh air without making our lungs hurt.

Flowers in our back yard March 2017

I might even miss winter eventually. But not now.

Happy Spring!

Five Years Ago

On this date in 2011, my husband and I were watching the TV screen with wide eyes. We live in Tornado Alley, as so many people do, so we keep a close eye on the weather this time of year, and that year was no exception. There was a big red blob on the radar heading right toward Pittsburg, KS.The weather forecasters were saying it was a bad one.

Then, inexplicably, the red blob took an abrupt right turn, missing Pittsburg, and another turn that took it to the east ... right toward Joplin, MO. It spawned a massive tornado that wiped out a third of the city and killed over 160 people.

I still think about how close we came to being the ones in the path of that tornado. But even more than that, I think about how resilient Joplin has been. They lost a hospital, many of their schools, and countless businesses and houses. And yet, in the years since, they've managed to rebuild almost all of it. A lot of volunteers from all over the country came to help, but the residents had to make the decision that they wanted to stay, and that's what they did.

On this five-year anniversary, I salute Joplin residents for their courage and strength. In the face of tremendous loss, they showed a determination not to let it get the better of them. It hasn't been easy, but the city has rebounded.

Congratulations, Joplin. In a season when it's sometimes easy to be fearful, you show us what hope and courage can accomplish. I wish you continued success.

It's a Mystery

Happy Mother's Day!

I've been spending a lot of time in the wooded park north of town and I've discovered something: birding is a lot like reading a mystery novel. You get a bunch of clues and you have to put them together to get the answer. The only drawback is that in birding, you can't always read to the end to get the answer!

Both involve a little investigation and thought. You read the first few chapters of the mystery to get a sense of what the crime is and who the possible perpetrators are. You move around to try to get a better idea of what that bird is and you run through in your head what the possibilities might be.

Here are some things to consider:
1. Where is the bird?
This refers to geographical location, type of surroundings (forest, field, desert, etc.) and where you are seeing the bird: on the ground, in a tree, flying overhead, flitting around in a shrub.
2. What are its distinguishing marks?
Sometimes you get lucky and see a detail that makes it easy to identify the bird, and sometimes you aren't so lucky. Take a look at its head, eye, wings (bars or not), tail (notched or not), chest and legs/feet. I'm very good at looking at everything except the one detail I need to make a firm identification, but I'm getting better at looking at the whole bird, not just one characteristic.
3. What sounds is it making?
4. What time of year is it?
I can expect to see yellow-rumped warblers here in April and May, but not in July. If I think I see one in July, it's obviously something else and I need to look at it again.
5. What is it doing?
If it's wading in water, hopping up the trunk of a tree, running along a trail or pecking at leaves, this behavior can give you a clue to its identity.

Now it's time to go to the book: your trusty bird book, which you should have with you at all times. I know people use apps and websites to identify birds, and I'm okay with that, but I like being able to flip through pages looking for something close to what I just saw. Use whatever works for you. I find this site very helpful when I want to verify my identification of a bird or check how it sounds:  www.allaboutbirds.org

It's also helpful if you know someone who's a good birder. Many times I've emailed my friend Bob to ask him about an identification and sometimes he's pointed out that I made a mistake, which helps me learn. I wouldn't know nearly as much about birds if I didn't know Bob.

I had to do a little sleuthing this weekend to identify a couple of birds, so that's what prompted this post. (By the way, it's my 150th post!) I was able to confirm that I saw a Tennessee warbler using the very steps I mentioned above. Of course, there are always those days when I come home frustrated, because I never did get a good look at that bird and I don't know what it was. It happens. But I know I can always go out and try again.

Happy birding!

(Note: It looks like I might want to try again with the cover of The Other Side, so there's one more delay. I'm sorry about that. Stay tuned for updates.)

Park

I'm afraid I don't have much to report about The Other Side. The cover image continues to be an issue, but I'm hopeful we can get that fixed soon. I'll keep you updated.

In the meantime, the pleasant weather has prompted me to take a few more walks in the wooded park north of town. (This is the one whose skeleton I enjoyed earlier in the year.) I'm happy to report that the yellow-rumped warblers are back! I heard a faint buzzy sound and followed it around with binoculars for a while before I spotted the first warbler. Then I saw several others in the same area. Despite their rather ungainly name, they really are beautiful birds and I was happy to get a chance to see them as they pass through this area. If you want to see a photo or learn more about them, here's a good site: All About Birds-YR Warbler

I also had a rather startling encounter as I was walking toward the parking lot. My mind was wandering but it vaguely noticed a rather long reed or piece of grass that was draped across the path. As I started to step over it, however, I suddenly realized it wasn't a piece of grass, just as it realized I was rather large and close. You would have laughed to see it because we both recoiled, just like in a cartoon. I stepped back and it slid into the nearest patch of grass, where I couldn't see it anymore. My initial look, though, has me convinced that it was a rough green snake. I'm sorry I didn't get a better look because it was a lovely shade of green and I would have liked to admire it. Maybe next time.

Already the leaves are starting to come out in the trees. As much as I like being surrounded by green as I walk, it makes birding a lot more difficult. I had trouble with some unknown bird calls today: the birds easily disappeared amid the canopy ... and then they sang and called just to taunt me, I suspect. "Ha, ha, I'm in here somewhere, but you can't see me!" I suppose birds aren't really that mean-spirited, but it sure seems like they are sometimes.

That's all I have to report for now. I've done a little rewriting on The Other Side and it's mostly ready to go, so once we get the cover problem solved, things should move along. (I'll be able to take it out of park and get it in gear.) Fingers crossed!

Stages

Remember that skeletal park I visited in February? I finally got a chance to go back today ... and it's certainly not skeletal now.

The trees are still mostly bare, but there's an undercurrent of green across the ground. Here and there I caught pale purple flowers or the bright pink of redbud trees. One bush had delicate white blossoms. The park isn't fully dressed yet, but she's starting to put on the initial layers of finery.

The birds are arriving, too. The air was punctuated by titmice calling everywhere I went. Carolina wrens tried to fool me into thinking all that noise couldn't come from such a diminutive bird. A barred owl made me smile with its call of "Who cooks for you? Who cooks for YOU??" Throw in a few cardinals, a fish crow and some goldfinches, and it was almost a symphony.

The bare bones were fascinating, but I have to admit that I like the dressed-up version better.

I'm getting close on The Other Side. I have an ISBN. The interior has been submitted and accepted. However, there's a slight problem with the cover image so I'm working on that with the artist. I'm hoping we can get it figured out quickly so I can move on and get to the proof copy stage. I'll keep you posted.

Thanks for reading my blog! Please spread the word about the Penumbra series and leave a comment if the mood strikes you.

And happy spring!

Hope

Those of you who know me at all know that I'm a Cubs fan.

Yes, I said it: I'm a Cubs fan. I've only been one since 1987, when I went to a game at Wrigley Field, but that one game sealed my fate. The brick walls covered in ivy, the atmosphere, Harry Caray singing the 7th inning stretch: how could I be immune to those charms?

I tell you this so you know I'm not a fair-weather, come-lately fan. I'm nothing compared to people in their 90s who've been fans all their lives, but I was there for some of the lean, painful years. I was there for years when they had great players but just couldn't seem to make it to the postseason, or got to the postseason and stumbled, for reasons that no one can understand. (No, I don't believe it's the goat.)

Each spring, I'd get excited all over again. Each fall, I'd say, "Maybe next year." And I was sincere.

This past spring was much the same as usual. I knew they had some new, young faces, but that's happened before. I knew they had a new manager, but that's happened before. I hoped for at least a .500 season.

But after a few months, I realized something was different. It was hard because I couldn't see most of the games (How ironic that WGN didn't televise the games this of all years! Come on, WGN, don't break our hearts again next year!), but when I did get to see a game, it was fun to watch. I couldn't always say that in previous years. Still, I had seen good years before, so I cautioned myself not to get too worked up. This is what you do when you're a Cubs fan: you try to remain realistic, you remember the history (as much as you'd like to forget it).

The Cubs, though, played as if they'd never heard of the history, as if anything was possible. I watched, somewhat stunned, as they became the second wild card team. I watched, even more amazed, as they won the wild card game. Then I watched them win the NLDS ... and I didn't know what to do. Get excited? Be cynical so I wouldn't get hurt?

I did what most Cubs fans did: I dared to believe. I believed they could get to the World Series and win it!

As you know, that didn't quite happen (no matter what they said in "Back to the Future II").

But you know what? This year when I say, "Maybe next year," I mean it even more than I did in previous years. The Cubs have showed me that they can win, that they believe in themselves, that anything is possible.

I can't say I've never felt that before. But I'm sure grateful for a chance to feel it again.

Thanks, Cubs. I'll see you in the spring!

Get It Right

Happy Mother's Day! I want to wish Mom all the best today and every day. I love you very much.

My allergies have finally calmed down, so to celebrate, I went birding yesterday morning. It has been a rainy weekend, but we were supposed to have a break for a few hours so I headed out to see if I missed all of the warblers that come through Kansas on their way north.

Fortunately, I wasn't too late: I saw prothonotary, Tennessee and yellow-rumped warblers, all of which were beautiful. Along the way, I saw some little thrushes that flitted in and out of my view, so I added "wood thrush" to my list. That evening, I emailed a partial list of my sightings to a friend of mine who has taught me a lot about birding and nature. He's a fellow member of our local Audubon group.

A few hours later, he replied that I did "pretty well" on my solitary walk, but he had a question: was I sure those were wood thrushes, or could they be the more common Swainson's thrushes?

Uh, oh! Many people wouldn't know (or care about) the difference, but I'm a birder so I care. I could easily have said, "Oh, yes, I'm sure they were wood thrushes. How could you question me?" But I didn't do that, mostly because I suddenly suspected that he might be right. I thought back and realized I'd seen the birds in shadow, without taking particular note of their color, and I'd made an assumption. Big mistake! So what to do?

I did the only thing that made sense: I went back this morning. I was very lucky because the rain held off but the sky was ominous enough that there weren't very many people there. My reward for double-checking myself was a perfect morning of birding ... and I saw even more birds than the day before!

Sure enough, my friend was right: those were Swainson's thrushes. I was certain this time and I learned my lesson: don't assume that you know what that bird over there is. Look closely, which is how I saw a hummingbird, an indigo bunting, catbirds and a cedar waxwing. Each time I thought it was something common, but each time my assumption was wrong and it was a good thing I checked with my binoculars.

Now I can feel good about my two-day list of birds because I know it's right. And I thanked my friend for correcting me. That's how I learn.

I just wish the lesson could always be learned in such a beautiful setting, full of birdsong and the occasional rumble of thunder.

Song and Color

Spring is (officially) less than a week away! (At least in the Northern Hemisphere.)

Everyone probably notices different things at this time of year. For me, it's the longer days and the birds. It's so nice to get home from work and still have daylight so I don't feel like it's already time for bed. I feel more motivated to get things done and less inclined to just plop down in front of the TV. (That always changes when baseball season starts, but I digress ...)

And the birds! Already we have killdeer announcing their presence in the parking lot of my place of work. Cardinals, titmice and robins are singing. Red-shouldered hawks are calling out in circles overhead. Chickadees are warning me away from the bird feeder, which has been visited by goldfinches, house finches, red-bellied woodpeckers and more. It's as if abundant feathered life has spontaneously sprung into existence to enrich my days.

Before long, the plants will follow them into renewed life and color.

Winter has its place in my life, but I'm never sorry to let another one fade away.

Have a joyous spring full of discovery.

(And happy Pi Day!)