*Named after Georg Wilhelm Steller, a German naturalist, who was the first European to record them in 1741.
I know I’m pretty, but beware,
My beak is tough as nails,
If any challenger would dare,
My bet is that he fails.
*Named after Georg Wilhelm Steller, a German naturalist, who was the first European to record them in 1741.
Of course you know this kind of talk is all for the birds.
A few nights ago, while I snuggled under the covers, the outside world was also being put under a cover — from freshly fallen snow.
The hummingbird feeder I had taken down to be out of the wind on the exposed deck, was no longer nestled among the branches that the birds used to love to sit on. (See the photo below). It had become a snow trap. Any bird venturing into the maze of bent down boughs might get a snow shower which, in the case of a tiny hummingbird, could be fatal. I had some work to do but I fixed up a place for the hummingbirds to feed safely.
The regular birdfeeders needed a place that was safe from the Steller’s jays who would gobble up the whole contents of the feeder. I had found a place in the branches of the filbert (hazelnut) tree. But then it snowed. Can you find the feeder to the left of the tree trunk and about four feet off the ground? The birds were happy to scratch up spilled seeds under the tree.
The Steller’s jay is quite the bully no matter where I put the seeds.
Pretty as the snow is, I worry about my poor little animals out there, scratching for enough food to keep warm and stay alive.
Ooh! Look at the stash of sunflower seeds Anneli put out for me today!
Darn it all. There’s that nasty Estelle the Steller’s jay. She’s got quite a beak on her. I’ll just watch her out of the corner of my eye.
I’m being cool, having a drink of water, as if I’m not worried in the slightest. That’s the only way to keep those bullies at bay. You have to pretend they don’t scare you at all.
But oh my gosh. It’s going to be that kind of day. Look who’s hovering around. That Emma looks sweet, but she can be vicious when it comes to us squirrels. Still, I’m not scared of her … very much. I’d just bite her in that cute nose of hers.
Come down here and say that, Lincoln. I dare ya.
Oh no. I see Estelle edging closer … and that mutt is still hovering. Things are just getting a bit too hot around here. Think I’ll have to abandon lunch and come back later.
You had this all to yourself, Lincoln. Time you learned to share!
And don’t stand there gawking at me while I eat or I’ll fly up there and peck you in YOUR nose.
Yikes! It’s getting just a wee tad uncomfy around here. Think it’s time to skedaddle.
On February 2, Punxsutawney Phil, the official groundhog weather forecaster, dashed back into his burrow because he saw his shadow, and thus predicted six more weeks of winter.
“Ugh! You’ve got to be kidding me,” says the Steller’s jay. “Six more WEEEEEEKS!”
I felt the same way, and have been waiting (im)patiently for spring to come, and today I realized that six weeks must soon be up.
March 16 should be the last groundhog-predicted day of winter. So I expect spring to happen the next day.
One more week!
I’ll be looking for signs of spring for my next post. Are you finding any where you are?
My effort at a double acrostic forced me to forego the rhyme factor, but I’ve tried to put together a Christmas message, using the first and last letters, read downwards. If we keep these things in mind, maybe we’ll help to improve someone’s life just a little bit.
And before you ask, no, it didn’t snow here, except up in the hills. This varied thrush visited the feeder a couple of years ago, but he looked so pretty on the snow, I wanted to put him in this post.
Knowing Yule is cominG, It's time to trim the treE, Now that I am senior, and the claN, Depends on mE. Need to fill the lardeR, Extra goodie-food will be, sO, Special in the coming dayS, So smile and so will I. (Yikes! Where's the rhyme? Gone to the North Pole.) And when it comes to Christmas nighT, No stores will open staY, Done with shopping, all's class A, Good times at home remaiN. If Christmas music fills our minD, Vast troubles leave us alL, In giving freely, as we dO No need for price on luV. Good will's enough and that is freE. Ta-dah-dahdah-deedee.
Y’all have a wonderful Christmas time, y’hear?
And don’t pay too much attention to what those birds say. Their jabbering is for the birds.
We parked our trailer and unloaded the skiff to have it ready for use at the edge of Vernon Lake.
The campsite was visited by many birds. Here are only a few of them. Many stayed hidden though they sang their hearts out all day.
This is a hairy woodpecker. I thought at first it was a downy, which looks very similar, but the hairy woodpecker has a much heavier and longer beak than the downy.
One of the birds I heard a lot, was Swainson’s thrush. I love the song he sings, “You’re pretty, you’re pretty, oh really.” But he is very elusive and I couldn’t get a photo of him.
He’s a very plain version of an immature robin but without any hint of black or red. If you click on this link you’ll see a photo on the bird site: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Swainsons_Thrush/id
Next to visit, was a Steller’s jay, but I almost mistook him for something else. He is a bit pale and scruffy, and this has me wondering if it is an immature bird.
Below, we have the red-breasted sapsucker, probably the very one I took pictures of for a previous post. He was hanging around the campsite the whole time we were there.
And no wonder! He has already made quite an investment in this tree, sipping sap and nabbing insects.
But do you see what I see? Circling the tree just below the chipped bark is a nasty looking petrified snake. I think he’s guarding the dinner table for the sapsucker.
You won’t see me trying to get near him. He looks mean. Is that blood on his lips?