Brigit's Flame Week 1 - Birds of a Feather
o/` "Lullaby of birdland whisper low
Kiss me sweet, and we'll go
Flying high in birdland, high in the sky up above
All because were in love" o/`
-- "Lullaby of Birdland" performed by Ella Fitzgerald
The day we moved out here to FoxHeart Acres, I saw two large red crested birds pecking happily away at one of the six trees we knew to be afflicted at termites. Later that evening, enticed outside by odd crashing sounds, we witnessed a clumsy owl of some sort thrashing its way through the lower branches of the long leaf pine as it tried to roost...interesting, but not particularly exciting.
My birding friends, on the other hand, went absolutely nuts.
"You live right in the middle of the winter migration patterns for (insert bird here)!"
"Please tell me you have a feeder out for (insert species here). Florida is the only place you can see them in the wild."
"Can I come visit? (insert name of birding trail here) is just a few miles up the road from your place and I need (insert name of bird here) for my life list."
Thus I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the world of the birding hobbyist.
It started innocently enough. I bought a book about Florida birds which showed their general characteristics and habitats. The book was later joined by a pair of decent binoculars to make identification of similar species easier. Several feeding stations with different kinds of seed and other foods joined the two bird feeders I already had out for the cardinals and the song birds.
My husband got used to hearing me screech, "Wait, I don't have that one!" on our outings and slogging through swamp and thick brush to obtain an identification. The camera with its zoom lens joined my birding book with its handy checklist and the binoculars. I learned the heartbreak of dreaming you'd spotted that one bird you just had to see on your life list only to wake up and discover that dream birds (and birds on television or in zoos) simply do not count.
Some twist of fate awarded me the chance to mark off the holy grail of all birders, , the ivory billed woodpecker. The image of that pair of large red crested, white beaked birds I saw on my first day out here haunted me. I hadn't realized the significance of the sighting at the time and hadn't seen them up close since. I could hear their distinct calls and knocks in the forest but they moved so quickly that visual confirmation wasn't possible. Once in a great while, I would see a pair come down to the feeder to eat the mixed fruit suet I had put out. Another time, walking the grounds of the shrine at St. Augustine, I saw one and took some blurred pictures (none of which would allow positive identification). I came to the conclusion that the professionals were having similar difficulties because the bird proved shy and fast.
It took me nearly a year to gather enough information that I felt comfortable with in order to report the sighting. When you report a sighting to Cornell, a professional team (in this case, a group out of University of Florida) comes out to verify the data. While they could not obtain a picture either, they did record several calls and find several trees with either nesting or feeding evidence. The map on the Cornell bird site was consequently altered to include my area of Florida (beforehand, it included only the panhandle).
These wily creatures deserve their reputation for being elusive; I like to think they also have a mischievous streak. Last summer, while working in the kitchen, Fox came running in and yelling for the camera. He'd spotted a pair of my woodpeckers in a tree near the back of the property and thought he might at last be able to get photographic evidence of their existence. I gave him the camera and then began washing my cast iron in the sink.
The sink has a small window over it which looks out into the dogs' kennel. We'd left them a few trees for shade, including one of the few healthy red bay laurels. I heard an odd noise, like an acorn being thrown at the window, and found myself looking straight into the face of a curious ivory billed woodpecker! At first I thought it was an especially bright cardinal, but he eased himself further out onto the branch and I saw the distinct white striping, ivory bill, and white patches on the trailing edge of the wing. It blinked and cocked its head...I stood there a moment longer, mouth open, blinked, and then began dancing around the kitchen screaming in delight.
The ivory billed woodpecker's nickname is Lord God bird, supposedly because the natural response to seeing one is "Lord God, what a bird!"
I agree...Lord God, what a bird!
Kiss me sweet, and we'll go
Flying high in birdland, high in the sky up above
All because were in love" o/`
-- "Lullaby of Birdland" performed by Ella Fitzgerald
The day we moved out here to FoxHeart Acres, I saw two large red crested birds pecking happily away at one of the six trees we knew to be afflicted at termites. Later that evening, enticed outside by odd crashing sounds, we witnessed a clumsy owl of some sort thrashing its way through the lower branches of the long leaf pine as it tried to roost...interesting, but not particularly exciting.
My birding friends, on the other hand, went absolutely nuts.
"You live right in the middle of the winter migration patterns for (insert bird here)!"
"Please tell me you have a feeder out for (insert species here). Florida is the only place you can see them in the wild."
"Can I come visit? (insert name of birding trail here) is just a few miles up the road from your place and I need (insert name of bird here) for my life list."
Thus I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the world of the birding hobbyist.
It started innocently enough. I bought a book about Florida birds which showed their general characteristics and habitats. The book was later joined by a pair of decent binoculars to make identification of similar species easier. Several feeding stations with different kinds of seed and other foods joined the two bird feeders I already had out for the cardinals and the song birds.
My husband got used to hearing me screech, "Wait, I don't have that one!" on our outings and slogging through swamp and thick brush to obtain an identification. The camera with its zoom lens joined my birding book with its handy checklist and the binoculars. I learned the heartbreak of dreaming you'd spotted that one bird you just had to see on your life list only to wake up and discover that dream birds (and birds on television or in zoos) simply do not count.
Some twist of fate awarded me the chance to mark off the holy grail of all birders, , the ivory billed woodpecker. The image of that pair of large red crested, white beaked birds I saw on my first day out here haunted me. I hadn't realized the significance of the sighting at the time and hadn't seen them up close since. I could hear their distinct calls and knocks in the forest but they moved so quickly that visual confirmation wasn't possible. Once in a great while, I would see a pair come down to the feeder to eat the mixed fruit suet I had put out. Another time, walking the grounds of the shrine at St. Augustine, I saw one and took some blurred pictures (none of which would allow positive identification). I came to the conclusion that the professionals were having similar difficulties because the bird proved shy and fast.
It took me nearly a year to gather enough information that I felt comfortable with in order to report the sighting. When you report a sighting to Cornell, a professional team (in this case, a group out of University of Florida) comes out to verify the data. While they could not obtain a picture either, they did record several calls and find several trees with either nesting or feeding evidence. The map on the Cornell bird site was consequently altered to include my area of Florida (beforehand, it included only the panhandle).
These wily creatures deserve their reputation for being elusive; I like to think they also have a mischievous streak. Last summer, while working in the kitchen, Fox came running in and yelling for the camera. He'd spotted a pair of my woodpeckers in a tree near the back of the property and thought he might at last be able to get photographic evidence of their existence. I gave him the camera and then began washing my cast iron in the sink.
The sink has a small window over it which looks out into the dogs' kennel. We'd left them a few trees for shade, including one of the few healthy red bay laurels. I heard an odd noise, like an acorn being thrown at the window, and found myself looking straight into the face of a curious ivory billed woodpecker! At first I thought it was an especially bright cardinal, but he eased himself further out onto the branch and I saw the distinct white striping, ivory bill, and white patches on the trailing edge of the wing. It blinked and cocked its head...I stood there a moment longer, mouth open, blinked, and then began dancing around the kitchen screaming in delight.
The ivory billed woodpecker's nickname is Lord God bird, supposedly because the natural response to seeing one is "Lord God, what a bird!"
I agree...Lord God, what a bird!