February 9: Blizzard aftermath

This was one of the biggest snow storms I've ever experienced in Maine. My car was so completely buried under a snow drift, I couldn't even shovel it out myself--the snow was piled too high! The wind still roars, blowing loose snow around, undoing all our work to clear out the house and cars. Fallen branches peak from beneath finely sculpted drifts. Peaks and valleys of snow have transformed the landscape. At the feeders, goldfinches, chickadees, and house finches pecked through snow to get at the seed, then sat there eating, out of the wind, as long as they could.

Ice coats a finch's face--
she seems unbothered by it
while she feeds.

February 27: Finch in the driveway

On the way to the local market I pass a slightly run-down house. There's often a big dog chained outside; its droppings litter the lawn. The siding, which was not a pretty color to begin with, is worn and faded. Porch railings need mending, and random pieces of plywood and toys lie about the yard. The house wears a casual, unkempt air--thoroughly lived-in but perhaps not especially cared for. It reminds me a little of some places we lived when I was a child, a home typical of those who are paying more attention to getting by than keeping their yard picked up or painting trim.

I was walking by this house, looking straight ahead up the street, when a small, quick movement caught my eye. I looked over, half-expecting to see a piece of wind-blown trash skitter across the short driveway. But instead, a little house finch pecked amid the gravel, a male bird with brown streaks and a bright raspberry-colored head. I don't know what he was after down there, but for a few moments, he added an understated note of true beauty to that bleak yard.

I hope someone there
noticed the pink-headed finch
gracing their driveway.

December 10: Feeder Etiquette

When I'm working on the laptop on my couch, I can see the kitchen window, where we have a small window bird feeder. (I also just hung next to it a seed-covered house that I was given as a gift.) This afternoon as I'm typing away, I was distracted by a flurry of activity at the feeder, which has otherwise been fairly quiet the past few weeks. All of a sudden, three house finches, a small flock of goldfinches, and several chickadees and titmice are all jockeying for position in the feeder. Some are even landing on and pecking at the seed house.

Thrilled to have some birds to look at rather than my computer screen, I sneak out to the kitchen to get a closer look. The different behaviors among the species--the feeder etiquette (or lack thereof)--can be fascinating. Chickadees and titmice usually fly in, grab a seed, then fly off. They don't seem to mind if other birds are in the feeder, although the larger titmouse will sometimes scare off a chickadee. The house finches are usually vocal, and often in pairs. Today there's one male-female pair, and then an extra male. The two males do not want to be in the feeder together, and each time they meet, they flutter at one another till one flies off. But the funniest to watch are the goldfinches, the smallest of all. Not only are they completely brazen about going in the feeder with other birds, but if a goldfinch is in the feeder first, it opens its bill at other birds in what's clearly an aggressive gesture, driving them away. Other goldfinches are fine--four or five often cluster in and on the feeder--but a house finch and a chickadee are both scared off by a bird almost half their size.

Meanwhile, in the background, a squirrel runs along the top of the fence with its mouth stuffed full of leaves. It must be bolstering its nest up in the willow tree just over the fence in our neighbor's yard.

After about ten minutes of this activity, the birds move on, and it's been quiet ever since. I'm thankful I paid attention when I did.

Grab one seed quickly
or linger, hog the feeder.
Afternoon traffic.

September 9: Lost Penguin

I seem to be internationally-inclined these days. Today a friend shared a link by which one can follow a lost emperor penguin named Happy Feet (found a bit off-course in New Zealand) back to his home in Antarctica. I've been a bit mesmerized by the computer screen since I got home, but I love that technology makes it possible for me to not only track a penguin on the other side of the planet, but to also share this experience with friends and strangers all over the world.

Meanwhile, house finches chirp querulously outside my window, eyeing the bird feeder.

I hope he makes it back home--he seems to have slowed down these past few days. So many people are watching. There's always something to amaze out there. For better or worse, I know. Today, I'll take this.

Tonight I follow
a lost Antarctic penguin,
ignore my finches.

September 5: Neighborhood Music

Sorry, I was away for a few days. Back to the daily posts...

Tonight as we read in the cool of our living room, a house finch serenades us from a tree across the street. He sounds most jubilant. Eventually he flies to the hanging flower right outside our doorway, chirping querulously as if stopping by to say hello. Meanwhile, the young man next door is out on his back deck lazily strumming on his guitar, not really playing a song, just trying out random, pretty phrases. And across the river someone is playing a jazz album loudly enough that the clear tones of a trumpet drift through the hazy, humid air, mingling with the sound of the rushing water. A song sparrow sings now, counterpoint to the house finch. And there's the neighbor's chihuahua, it's incessant yipping adding high notes to the mix.

Each one plays its part:
House finch, river, kid's guitar,
jazz, the hazy night.