The abundant underworld.

This is, to me, the most mysterious time of the year. Everything is brown and cold and, seemingly, dead. Under the ground, though, much is happening as evidenced by an amaryllis bulb kit I opened last week. It was a gift from several weeks back which sat in a chair all that time unopened. When I finally did open the box last week, I was amazed by the growth of the flower emerging from the bulb already. There was 5-6 inches of stem and an inch and a half of flower curled inside the box and fighting for what must have been a shard of light and plenty of warmth to activate it's growth hormones. Needless to say, I put it into the growing medium in the pot as soon as I could and, in the few days hence, the stalk has straightened and grown about an inch more already.
The flower will be beautiful, I'm sure, as flowers blooming this time of year especially always are but that's the essence. This time of year with all the brown and cold precludes flowering but one must only think beneath the soil, inside that bulb as it were, to picture all the work and, indeed, activity. Bulbs are resting and restoring. Plants are doing the same. Microbes are working, eating. Recent fallen leaves are decomposing and offering nearby plants protection and nutrients. The underworld is very much alive and preparing to offer us yet another year of food and bloom.

Weaving

Here are a couple of my latest scarves. Besides work, these have occupied my time since my last post.

Gone

It took roughly just over an hour to fell our lovely and very old Dogwood tree. With tears in my eyes, I made myself watch much of the work. I decided, since I was so emotional, to see the operation and, hopefully, get a grip. It didn't surprise me really that I was overcome with such sadness and I didn't perceive it as any sort of hysteria or lack of control. Rather, I saw it as a bit of control of control; it could be called a manipulation of control that would allow a person to grieve for a venerable old living object.
Since the tree was in our front yard, the arborists used a hi-lift to move one man from the top of the tree down who could safely cut branches and limbs swiftly. Three other workers were at ground level moving the fallen wood away to be cut or chipped in their huge chipper. This "de-branching" took all of 15 minutes. It astounded me how fast the process sped.
The next work took the 10-12 foot trunk apart and down. Again, this was done by the one in the lift until the trunk was workable heightwise for someone on the ground. This was finished quickly with the large trunk chunks rolled away to a corner of the yard. Finally, the trunk at ground level was "ground" by a grinder down to about 10 or so inches below the surface.
I couldn't see this part as barriers were placed (not unlike curtains) so that flying chips could be controlled better. It felt a bit as if I was being shuttered from watching an operation or a checkup at a hospital or clinic. When this task was completed, I peered around the "curtain" and saw earth and nothing more. The tree was gone.

Our old friend

This year, for some reason, I've been enthralled by and taken countless photos of trees. All manner of trees have fascinated me and prompted me to ponder their branching habits, shapes, environment, needs, and most particularly, their barks. The eye-level faces of trees have occupied much of my imagination since I traveled to the southwest in early Spring and first encountered an Alligator Juniper tree and saw evidence in that dry "face" of the protection that that skin brought the tree in that arid environment. I'm still thinking about that particular tree and fully intend to design a weaving project based on it. Since that discovery, I've really looked at trees and their "faces" like I never have before and found myself quite unhinged by this second and third and fourth viewing. Alpine Larch and Ponderosa Pine are two examples of very different trees existing in quite separate environments which have equally moved me. The Larch, in more alpine climes, looks almost dead. Many are quite thin looking with dark gray to almost black skins which seem gnarled and unhealthy but are really simply adapted to protect themselves from heavy snow and high winds in the mountains. Plus, the fir boughs which emerge from them in Spring and Summer look like the greenest green against such a dark, dead looking background. To me, these trees are just as beautiful as their much lower sloped Ponderosa Pines, a backbone to the timber industry and a plank in the foundation of Native American life. These Pines are tall and wide and their skin is a coppery/rust color which cracks to a dark brown/ black. Native Americans used every bit of these lovely trees from the roots to the treetops and continue to do so. As small as the Larches look, Ponderosa Pines seem immense enough to shelter gods in the heavens. Both are lovely to me and inspire me to design weaving drafts of them as well.
In the midst of all this " rediscovery of trees" this year, I've witnessed something in my own yard which breaks my heart. Our Dogwood, which bloomed so fully this Spring in particular, is old and nearly dead. It has been "falling to pieces" for years and we've had it inspected by tree experts before but, this year, we've seen a deterioration much more advanced than in the 17 years prior. So, another tree expert was called to have a look and his conclusion was that the tree is at the end of its days. When I asked him how old the tree was, he opined that the house (built in 1941) was built around the tree! If so, our lovely Dogwood must be upwards of 100!
Needless to say, I was both surprised and awed and even more saddened that it's life must end.

We could keep the tree alive for a while longer with heavy, selective pruning but a good stiff winter wind could very well blow it down and cause a lot of damage. So, we will have it cut down. There was a sudden chance to have it done tomorrow but we couldn't do that. It was too soon, too upsetting.

So, the tree will probably remain for another week or so for us to see, love, thank, honor. I'll remove all the bulbs in the rock garden at its base along with all the other plants there: day lilies, iris, hens and chicks, vanilla plant, bergenia, Japanese anemone, Serbian bellflower, epimedian (which cushioned the fall of the fledgeling Chickadee a year ago), Snow in summer, hyacinth, lilies of the valley, sweet woodruff. All will be replanted later. We'll distribute the tree's cut wood to neighbors who want and can use it as well as the wood chips from the branches. We'll save enough of the chips for us to use for mulch in our yard and eventually prepare the same site for another tree. I think that new tree, hopefully planted this fall, might just be another white Dogwood.

Opportunity

We were given the opportunity to visit the Banff Centre to attend a play reading and were able to expand the trip by driving there from here. The weather was unbeatable for the whole 6 days which we came to understand was unusual given the rain and hail that had gripped Banff for days just before our visit. Because it hastened our drive, we crossed the border at a different spot, more rural, and along the way there passed some absolutely beautiful agricultural valleys which continued for miles and miles into Canada. Not to be outdone, our next encounter with beauty came in the form of the Shuswap area which is anchored by a huge long lake/river system bordered by mountains on all sides. It was at this point in our drive that we stopped and stayed overnight in a small lakeside town which boasted a resort sensibility and economy but encouraged an appreciation of nature. There, we were able to walk along the lake and out onto a long pier from which we watched not one but two osprey nests built by the town which both contained this year's clutches of 3 nestlings. From a mere 25 feet away, we hardly needed the binocs to watch feedings. How marvelous!
The next leg of the trip introduced us to the mountains of British Columbia and the Canadian Rockies to Banff, Alberta. I ran out of adjectives on this day. The landscape was so breathtaking and mammoth and unique that it made us silent for hours. We had everything to say and no words to say anything. That remained the case for our stay at the Banff Centre where we saw and heard such sublime performances of musical expression that we could only shake our heads in response.
The only time we really spoke a lot was on a hike at around 7500 feet and the reason for such chatter was amazement that we both made it and lived to tell the tale! I daresay that we were overawed the whole trip and for various and sundry reasons.
The only drawback to the whole trip was the sight of the many forests decimated by the very opportunistic Mountain Pine Beetle. This insect, prior to the 1990's, was usually killed off by the blisteringly cold winters (- 30 degrees Fahrenheit). In fact, according to one forest worker we spoke with, the Spruce Beetle was the former villain of the woods. When the Spruce trees were killed by this pest, planting companies changed the nature of the woods to Lodgepole Pine trees in the hopes of stopping the devastation. At the same time, however, winters warmed up enough to allow the Pine beetles to thrive. With the ample food supply, their colonies spread probably better than wildfire and the evidence of their work is plentiful. Opportunity comes to many living things it seems.
Pictured is Banff from our hike above and a lovely tree bark and fir needle arrangement.

You must have been a beautiful baby.......

We've watched the family the past few nights with awe and admiration. Tonight's show included posing for us, staring down Flickers which were pestering them and roosting higher in "their" deadtop fir, buzzing crows away just 'cause Ma taught them how, and being the first to grab the prey from the food drop by Thor. There were thrilling, playful flights by three or four of them between trees and over houses. We heard what sounded like food fights when one grabbed what Thor brought to eat and flew off with it only to be followed by a hungry sibling ready to fight for the treasure. We were simply treated to the deliciously normal doings of a family and a mighty beautiful one at that. Here are closeups of two of the brood.

Teach your children well

When I think back two years and recall my initial observations of the Merlin family with Spike and Thor at the helm, I have many vivid memories. None were more remarkable, though, than the evening of July 4 that year, 2008. We were assembled in the original nest neighborhood (a couple of blocks south of the current site) and watching the fledglings still very much in the nest when we saw a very large mass of crows flying our way from the southwest. This mob was easily a couple hundred strong. It occurred to us that maybe the crows had been spooked by all the fireworks being blown up all around the Sound and were trying to find quiet. Whatever the case, there were hundreds and they were aiming straight towards the nest.
What happened next blew my mind. Spike flew out of the nest tree and right into the center of the knot of crows. We poor scared mortals on the ground opined that she was probably a goner and it certainly looked that way at first sight. Crows near her attacked but she attacked back. These melees went on for a while until Spike changed tactics and started flying through the crows and ahead, around them. We watched in complete awe as she rattled and confused the crows until she was able to divide the mass into two swarms. In almost no time, the crows flew their separate ways around the nest tree and away from that ferocious, tiny bully. It was a demonstration of a mother and the steps she takes for her babies the likes of which we will rarely see again. It was a remarkable display that I will never forget.
This year's brood came earlier than the 2008 family. We think that Spike and Thor found each other late that Spring which pushed everything back a couple of weeks. This year, instead of the birds just having hatched, the "kids" are days out of the nest and, for all intents and purposes (save food), on their own. So, when the crows flew nearby tonight, the response from Spike was quite different. She stayed put in her nearby tree and just watched while one of the babies called and called loudly for the crows to stay away. And, those crows heeded the young bird's warning. Indeed, mom had taught her children well.

Flight

At least two of the fledglings have flown today. Probably the two in the pictures with the least down left were the adventurers. They will be quite awkward for a few days and miscalculate distances and heights and suddenly find themselves overtaken by fear. For the past two years, one of the fledglings has fallen, been taken by watchful neighbors to PAWS for rehab and been brought back, when well and tagged, to be released back to the neighborhood and family. The next few days will be critical in that regard. As for today, though, all is well. When I left the site, there were plaintive calls coming from the back of the nest tree from one of the adventurers probably tired, hungry, fearful, and fumbling. Spike was in a nearby tree watching as there is not much she can do unless they're threatened.
Flight is such an interesting thing to us on the ground. It is absolutely nature and nurture. For several weeks those wee birds get to see demonstrations of technique from their own masters, their parents. They witness countless takeoffs and landings, swoops, banks, soars. Somewhere in their brains this information is collected, stored, and used when their shoulders start feeling "the itch" and those pieces of fluff start falling off to reveal long and beautiful and aerodynamic feathers. They bob and flex and jump in the nest to strengthen their leg muscles and flap and stretch their wings time after time. It all leads to this day, flight day. All the preparation helps but it is that leap, that desire to leap, that need to leap which stops many of us on the ground. This is where I think "nature" really takes charge. It is that irrevocable need to leap that birds have that we do not. And, of course, once the leap is taken and nature's call is answered, then all that flexing and flapping and nurturing come into play and flight ensues. We on the ground have devised our own birds but, alas, we can never fully trust ourselves to nothing but our wings and the elements. Thus, that leap is for those two birds today and their siblings tomorrow or the next day and never for us groundlings.

Five

Today, from the mid-afternoon on, was clear, pleasantly warm, and sunny and, we thought, a perfect setting for visiting "the birds" once again. We watch the fledglings and mom and dad from the west side of the nest tree so this evening's sun gave everything a beautiful golden glow. By the time we arrived onsite, there were already two birders with two scopes trained at the top of the fir and shortly after we set up, several others came by, scopes, cameras and binocs at the ready. It's a congenial group of people here in the neighborhood who like to walk of an evening and watch birds. We don't become particularly loud. We're not messy at all. Being considered geeks, we take all comers. In fact there are no rules to the congregation, only a place and a reason. We love birds and especially these rather rare ones, the merlin falcons.
Once again, they didn't disappoint. The big discovery tonight was that there were 5 fledglings. This didn't come as much of a surprise as that has been the number for the past two years. We rather expected it. What was so hard about that expectation this year was proof because the nest is so obscure. Anyway, the branching going on the past few days has literally flushed the birds from the nest and allowed us to count heads, all five of them!
Tonight, Spike (the mother of the 15) positioned herself after one good feeding atop a nearby cedar tree and seemed to be stretching herself by spreading her wings and tail feathers. She, golden she, put on quite a show for all of the scopes and lenses below and spent enough time in the falling sunshine for many photos to be taken in the midst of a lot of "ooohs and aahhs". She is a wildly successful mother and mate, an absolutely ferocious protector and fighter, and an utter inspiration and delight for geeks like me. She thrills me as do her offspring.
Her little ones should be flying very soon. One or a couple were flying, whether they knew it or not, from branches and back to the nest this evening. It is not a far cry for one of them to travel to a neighboring tree in the next couple of days and we geeks with many lenses will be there to thrill once again to something we can't see too many times!

The new family

We went to the new nest site last evening and over the course of nearly 2 hours watched 4 baby merlins branching, a couple rather far from the nest. From many hours of observation, only 3 birds had been seen but last night a fourth emerged clearly and as actively as the three others. Now, of course, we will be straining to see if there are ultimately 5 babies as there have been in the previous 2 broods.
There was no unusual activity last evening. The babies branched and flapped their wings according to their age and size. The two eldest babies were the furthest out on the limbs while the 2 younger a little less so. I have heard that, not unlike human behavior, male birds adventure further and faster than females and that the females are much better at preening away their downy feathers. If that is the case, the 2 birds perching farthest from the nest were males complete with downy "Mohawks"!
We witnessed a couple of prey drops by Spike (the mom), heard the young's calls several times, and saw how active they became after each feeding. After a feeding, the birds usually start head bobbing, moving around the nest, jumping and then branching, picking, scratching, wing flapping. Such was the case after both food deliveries last night. There was a lot of movement for most of our time there.
There was one oddity which is an addendum to my prior post. A "rogue" bird (I was told, male) flew in around the second prey drop occasion and was chased off by Thor (male father). It was a defensive attack but nothing like the behavior when the "predator" is, say, a crow or a bald eagle. This was a quick attack to drive the bird away and just as quickly it was over. To anthropomorphize, it was as if Thor said "Thanks but no thanks". Interesting.
The photos are of the two male (?) adventurer babes from last night.

Those fledged and fledging

The merlins story is a late one this year due to the fact that Spike and Thor had to move their nest from one very open and unstable site to the present fir tree which is the polar opposite of the former. In fact, up until the last couple of weeks, there was a question whether there would be a nest at all because it could not be seen. After careful observation of the parents' behaviors (pretty well known now from the past two years practice), we figured out that, indeed, there was a nest and eggs and, after a bit of time, hatchlings were being fed. The last 2 weeks have led the birders to believe that there are 3 fledgees (only because that's all that can be seen from hours of observation by scopes) but there may be more. Time will tell.
So, save for the lateness, all is pretty normal except for the fact that there are, a few people have noted, 5 adults present around the nest. Twice, we have seen 4 adults. Two are identifiable as the parents, Spike and Thor, and the other two are unknown. A couple of people have witnessed yet another single bird, a "rogue" merlin joining the group. That is the important part of the last sentence: the group. From what we have all seen and noted, this is a group. There are no "enemies" as there is no defensive posture or threat in evidence when these 2 or three other birds are there. In fact, we saw that they were flying quite close to the new nest without being "buzzed" by Mom or Dad. So, we can only deduce that the "extras" are offspring from previous years, older brothers and sisters, who have not "left the nest".
There was a report on the internet this week about this in the human population. Large numbers of recent college graduates are returning to their parents' homes because they cannot find jobs or cannot afford to live on their own. Perhaps they just don't want to live elsewhere. Who knows? The phenomenon is large enough to be noticed and notable whatever it's cause. Could our young adult birds be similarly afflicted? They are a little old to be hanging around the nest. Perhaps they just cannot find enough food to sustain their own nests. Again, who knows? It is a very interesting proposition to ponder.

Another Bloomsday

On this day last year, I spent 6 hours babysitting. I sat and watched a baby chickadee which had fallen from the nest in our dogwood into a thick epimedium plant at the base recover from the fall and start the climb back up again. Led by his frantically calling parents, the wee one literally wobbled then hopped up and up over those 6 hours to the level of the nest (7-8 feet off the ground) and then to a further branch until it finally sat and rested at about the 12 foot level. It was my last sight of the bird. It flew after a brief rest at that height, never to be recognized afterwards. Of course, I've seen many, many chickadees in that tree since but none that I firmly know as Leopold, the name I gave him after about 3 hours of rebounding from his fall last Bloomsday. So, today, a year on, I saw another chickadee in the dogwood early this morning and hoped it was the fellow I babysat and will never forget.
Instead of watching and fretting over a little chickadee, I transferred my observances to our Merlins who seem to be confusing us this year, their third in our neck of the woods. Apparently, Spike (female) and Thor (male) have been joined in their nesting by another pair! Now, we witnessed, last time we watched them at the nest site, a "spare" Merlin (probably male) flying near the nest and wondered whether it could be one of the offspring from the past two years. This "pair" of "accompanying" Merlins might indeed be 2 of last year's brood but what they are doing hanging around and why is a complete mystery. Equally a mystery is this year's nest as it is entirely fir covered. You simply cannot see it via binoculars or, presumably, scope either so there is no knowing, this year, just how many chicks there are or will be!
My viewing tonight was, then, of Mom and Pop, aka Spike and Thor. It was a treat to hear that familiar, loud call and then see them soaring to their perches by the nest tree. Spike looked quite pretty and full in the late day light and posed for me for quite a while. I suppose she was warming herself and taking a rest from sitting on the nest. Anyway, if I couldn't recognize Leopold here, I could recognize Spike there and that made this Bloomsday another memorable one.

Moss on the north side

Here are some random musings. Lately, our weather has been typical for this region and at this time of year - early to mid-June - but has driven even the best of us a little crazy with the seemingly relentless rainy grey skies. I've only been able to work in the garden for a few hours in the past week for all the rain and so have been working inside and downstairs. I was in the office last Wednesday afternoon when I heard a great ruckus being raised by growing numbers of squawking crows. I opened the curtains which are at ground level just in time to see groups of crows swarming around my neighbor's fir tree boughs and from which emerged a bald eagle headed for our backyard! At this time of year, I suspect the eagle was nest robbing. I was too startled to notice whether the eagle was flying with prey or not. I was simply astonished to see an eagle in the city and in my yard! A few days later, and in that brief clear weather window, I heard the crows' clarion call once more coming, this time, from across the street and saw several crows chasing/buzzing another (perhaps the same?) eagle.
If you've read past entries in this blog, you know that our neighborhood has been host to 2 successful and completely recorded clutches of Merlin falcons and, currently, is watching a third in process. Nature, wild nature, is nothing new up here. In a large pond which feeds the creek a couple of blocks from here, beavers are actively felling trees for their dams and nests. It is an astounding thing to see: unmistakeable teeth marks on several large stumps in a pond surrounded by apartments and condos in the city. I often joke with friends that I live on " a racoon highway". For years we've noticed racoons and opossums meandering through our yards at night, often with offspring, coming from the creek and travelling, presumably, in the direction of the lake. I think more than the animals and birds, I am more unhinged (and delighted) that this is happening in a big city and in the 21st century. As oil is gushing and smothering generations of wildlife elsewhere and in the name of progress, it is thrilling to be witness to the progress of the wild life here.

I love mosses and lichens. I love the cultures and colors. Here are a few photos of what has been growing on my north side of late.

Birding for flora

When I was first introduced to birding, I was amazed at how boring it was to me, endlessly so. We were out on a levee about an hour outside of the city on a lovely fall day and just standing there and looking for and at the occasional duck with the North Cascades and Mt. Baker hovering large as a backdrop. This was a beautiful, if muddy, setting and glorious to experience but not endlessly so and with nothing else to do! I was utterly beside myself with boredom after about an hour. Given that my future promised to be replete with such forays, I decided then and there that I needed to 1/ learn about birds and know where and what to look for if I was going to survive in this partnership and 2/ find some other "pacific" amusement which would fill the time, be of use, and help me through the hours looking for birds.
Well, these many years later, I can vouch for my complete commitment to birding and birds. I don't know when the "tipping point" occurred but somewhere along the line, I just got interested myself and often sighted birds first. So, at some time, I achieved goal number one and just didn't stop to think about it.
Goal number 2 involved photography. I was able to pick up rather inexpensively a couple of old 35 milimeter cameras and often took them along on these birding excursions for my purposes. I took countless shots of the mountains, the grasses, the sloughs, the birds, millions of wildflowers, etc. over the years and got rather good at it. I think it was in the midst of these years when the transition between photography and birding melded. Also, photography, the old fashioned way, became quite expensive.
So, I skip to yesterday when we travelled to Umtanum Falls (east of the mts.) to look at birds. We saw plenty! All along the road, the Yakima Valley Audubon has erected well over 100 bluebird boxes, each numbered and many occupied this year. We saw countless Western bluebirds flying into and around these many boxes. That should have told us something as, once we arrived at the creek and started hiking to the falls, we began seeing hundreds and hundreds of birds: grosbeaks, orioles, western tanagers, olive sided flycatchers, robins, yellow warblers, house wrens, kestrels, redtailed hawks, meadowlarks, brewer's sparrow, solitary vireo, song sparrows, juncos, cedar waxwings, bullocks orioles, stellar jays, catbirds, mountain chickadees, possible white headed woodpecker, ravens, and crows. We had arrived at a great time of the year and of the day (early to mid-morning) and heard and saw birds galore.
This hike was along a creek, as I've said, but on the dry side of the mountains. Normally, the path would be much dryer. Lately, though, the weather has been quite wet and the path was really sloppy in spots. At one point, having slipped and become muddied up, I decided to forego seeing the falls and just look around me. It was at that point, digital camera in hand, that I started to see a number of small wildflowers, lichens, and the beautiful ponderosa pine bark which focussed my attention to two specimens: Camas lilies (camas quamash) and Pinus Ponderosa (both pictured). Both were in abundance yesterday, large and beautiful. So, here they are, more fully examined.
The Camas lily was a very valuable plant for the natives as it's roots were used for a number of medecines and foods, bread specifically. On their journey through the western states, Lewis and Clark were introduced to the Camas lily and it's many uses by the Shoshone and Nez Perce indians and wrote a long passage about it in their journals.
The Ponderosa Pine is one of those trees that was and still is used in it's entirety. It's orange colored bark with the black lining in the crevasses is an absolute wonder and beauty to me and was used by natives to cover their houses. This is the third most harvested tree in the western U.S. and is used to build many, many houses. Natives used the logs for dugout canoes, the needles for insulation of underground storage, the roots for blue dyes, the boughs for sweat lodges for muscle pains, and the pitch as an ointment for sores, scabby skin, backaches, rheumatism, earaches, inflamed eyes, and as a sleeping agent for infants.
I just wanted to celebrate both these plants, large and small, for their beauty.

I'd forgotten the peace, the quiet...

Since May 17, our street has been open only to local traffic due to the closure, repair, and retrofitting of a bridge a couple of blocks south. This bridge, which hovers over a local and important greenbelt creek, was designed by the same man who designed the infamous "Galloping Gertie". That bridge, which spanned the Tacoma Narrows, is famous for having swayed and shaken violently enough in the 1930's to eventually break apart and fall into the waterway below. This disaster was caught on tape and is dragged out of stock and aired periodically by the local TV stations when other such disasters occur. Needless to say, I am thrilled that our bridge is being strengthened especially since it is a valuable north-south route in the city.
That said, I am amazed daily by the quiet and the cleanliness which has fallen on our roadway. The quiet is obvious. There are virtually no cars. What few there are invariably have to turn round after another block south and return in search of another route over the creek. The quiet is so "loud" that I can hear birds I would not otherwise have known were around. Also, being a newshound, I almost always have a radio on and, while mowing or weeding outside, listen via headphones to music. Now, I find that I am still so amazed by and intent upon listening to the silence, I turn the radio off and no longer use the headphones while outside. I simply cannot get enough of the quiet, the peace! And, of course, the air is so much cleaner and better smelling. Boy, are we going to be spoiled by this year of heaven given us by the bridge work!
I also find that, personally, I am more peaceful. I think the quiet has instilled in me more relaxation. Whenever I get my blood pressure taken, I visualize certain roses in my yard in order to remain calm, still, at peace. When I do this, my reading is normal or low. Given how peaceful I've become since the road has closed, I've posted the two roses I visualize and offer them to you the viewer for peaceful, relaxing contemplation. The pink is called Cornelia and the peach is named Westerland. Enjoy and breathe!

Outdoors

Today, another day off Monday, I could not spend enough time outdoors. I mowed the lawn. I weed whacked. I weeded and planted. I seeded tomatoes, basil, evening primrose, sweet williams, penstemon, cosmos. I even did some cleaning and straightening of the garden shed. I just couldn't get enough of being outdoors today. It was mild, a little warm, sunny alternating with overcast and showery. In other words, it was the absolute tonic I needed after being indoors for the many weeks of preparation for the show we just opened. There's a line in the play, "I haven't had my hands in dirt in twenty years....". I took care of that today. It was lovely.

Art and nature

Yesterday was opening day of "Trip to Bountiful". Even after 5 previews, I was very nervous. I had the jitters upon waking and continued quaking late into the morning. Luckily, the weather here was glorious with clear skies, sun, and 60-70 degree warmth so, in some desperation about my nerves, I just walked into the back yard and sat on the grassy slope surrounded by shrubs and rose bushes and listened to the birds. This calmed me enough to go over my words and consider an unsolved and difficult passage in one particular scene. The words were there as they have been. I needn't have doubted that at all. So, I changed my pursuit to the contemplation of my worries. In that instant, it dawned on my that the major theme of the first half of the play is just that: worry. There are countless references to worry, nerves, aggression caused by the city and it's attendent competition.
Then, I thought about the second half of the play, when Carrie travels back to her home in pursuit of dignity, peace, calm. Another lightbulb went on as I sat in the middle of all that warmth and beauty and that is that the natural world is her salvation. It's influence offers her a profound change in her life. Indeed, without it, there would be no ending to the play.
So, I made the choice of using my nerves last night, however many continued or grew, and then using that very moment of peaceful discovery as my pursuit in the second half of the play. It worked! As the show progressed, my nerves left and the warmth which Carrie sought (and I had found yesterday) slowed her down and allowed the observations to really sink in of the whole experience of her "trip".
Now, all this might seem obvious and you might be right in thinking so. I, however, was in the thick of it yesterday with seemingly all unknowns around. To coin a phrase, I couldn't see "the woods for the trees". I'm happy and relieved to say that an intuition led me to my own backyard and allowed me to find the answers to my questions and fears were just over yonder in the newly bloomed Japanese iris and my lovely Westerland rose.

Cold and rainy

Today was grey, cold, and rainy which, actually, is typical weather for this neck of the woods. The promise of blooms all around my garden will continue as just that for another day or so and then that promise will be fulfilled galore! Here are but two Spring flowers which opened this past week: the iris and rhododendron. Both are in their full show and both fascinate me with their intricacy and curious depth.

The grey cold also brought hopes of another sort. We saw the Merlins and they are on the nest! Indeed, their nest is in the tree we'd thought but is entirely camoflaged. Considering what happened with our bushtits' nest, the dense cover is a very good thing. From what we've learned, the pair started nest sitting in the past week and so the hatch should occur during the last week of May/first week of June!
Speaking of the bushtits', when we returned to our yard, we saw the pair pecking the old nest and dismantling it one after the other and then flying away with the materials to a new nest site! If the level of decomposition stays at this level, they will have the entire nest fabric apart and moved by the week's end. I admire their industry and determination.

Nature and theatre

Today, happily, is a day off. Work was hard but very valuable this past week for many reasons. So much was gained and learned through repetition and study and just being in the moment and listening, finally, to what the other actors were saying!! Plus, I finally figured out the end of the play.
Actors memorize words and say those words over and over but, sometimes, don't really realize the full meaning of parts of a script or character's story. Much of the meaning is evident, nonetheless, from what other characters say and do and from the musicality of the speech. Leonard Bernstein lectured on this vis a vis the language of musical notes and how evocative specific notes and chords were. I digress a bit.

When Carrie Watts (at the end of "Trip to Bountiful") looks around her and fully realizes what it is that has restored her dignity, she says this:
"...the river will be here. The fields. The woods. The smell of the Gulf. That's what I always took my strength from...Not from houses, not from people. It's so quiet. It's so eternally quiet. I've forgotten the peace. The quiet. And it's given me strength once more... To go on and do what I have to do. I've found my dignity and strength.........
it's all woods now. But I expect someday people will come again and cut down the trees and plant the cotton and maybe even wear out the land again and then their children will sell it and go to the cities and then the trees will come up again......
We're part of all this. We left it but we can never lose what it has given us."

She realizes that we're part of the earth, the world and, with luck and work, that will continue. All will decompose and be reused and reborn.

As you have read, we've been following the assemblage of the bushtits' nest and documenting the progress with photos and reportage here. This morning, seeing the sun through the shades, I opened the curtains in the back to see if one of the roses had opened it's blooms and saw, instead, a large crow and a pair of stellar jays flying towards the back fir trees and away from the nest area. When I looked at the nest, I saw what looked like disaster. It was severely altered. I couldn't tell if those bigger birds had attacked it or if the overnight winds had bashed it. Whatever the case, I jumped into some clothes, grabbed my glasses, and fairly ran outside to the back yard. Once there, I could clearly see that the nest was ruined. From what I could see, it looked like a larger bird had swiped it violently with it's claws and opened an entire side of it exposing all that soft, downy inside which I had been imagining.

I almost burst into tears. One would think I was one of the parents! The real parents (or perhaps others in the bushtits' social grouping) flew around and around the broken nest chirping continually in alarm and, probably, sadness. Despair was quickly enveloping me when I saw something remarkable that snapped me back to " Bountiful". One of the bushtits removed a tiny, downy feather and flew away with it. Then it's partner did the same. It dawned on me that they were already rebuilding, reusing, and working toward a new world. Indeed, the efforts and travails of those tiny birds gave me "strength once more to go on and do what I had to do".

One last note: On closer examination, we found one wee egg which had fallen to the soil below the nest and had broken. The egg, pictured, was only the size of my thumbnail. It looked unreal because of it's size but it was real enough. This little bird didn't make it but, given what I witnessed this morning, others will in the new nests being built and, hopefully, camoflaged better than this one was.

Around the yard

Our yard is geared towards the Spring and is currently about to display it's bounty in terms of amount of blooms. With the early bulbs just "going by" and the next wave of bulbs starting to open, the lilacs (all six varieties and colors) are in their full beauty. The irises will be next and are followed by the roses. These last three major groups are in profusion in our yard and make this little plot look like quite the pastel patchwork during the month of May. The sights and scents send me.
I walked around the yard today before the rain and planted annuals in the pots by the door, vegetables in the back (cucumbers and broccoli) and seeds next to them (carrots and beans) and then just looked at the double-petalled lilac in the next bed and our little Buddha in a nearby plot and just smiled as he is smiling.
An update: The bushtits are "on the nest". I'm of the opinion that the eggs must have been laid sometime last week and that mom has been sitting on them for a few days now. The hatching time is rather short - 1-2 weeks. So, I will have to keep you posted.

A poem

ODE TO MAO'S SPRING GARDEN

Whose yard this is I think I know.
She's acting in the village though;
She would not mind me stopping here
To watch her tulips bloom and grow.
That bushtit there must think it queer
That I should simply stand right here
Between 15th and her front door
This afternoon so bright and clear.

He gives his little beak a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sight's the sweep
Of buses, cars, and squeaky brake.

This garden's lovely green and lush
But duty calls, so on I rush,
And miles to go, so I must mush
And miles to go, so I must mush.

Poem written by my friend Pinky

Bloomsday bird

Last year, we did not have a Bushtit's nest. We thought we would as we watched a pair of birds inspect the old nest from the year before. Our puffed chests deflated later in the day when we realized that the birds were dismantling the old nest and recycling the materials into the new nest in one of the big fir trees at the back of our yard. I remember my confusion that day having left the house in the early morning filled with pride only to be stung and stunned on our return upon seeing NO NEST. There was not a scrap or a twig or a shred of old moss on the ground! All had been transported all day long to the new nest which was well outside of our range of easy observance.
Bushtits travel in social groups of about 40 and it is theorized that some or all of that band help each other in nest building. That, I sense, is why that old nest disappeared so quickly. So, there was no nest in the back yard last year.
In the very dogwood which is so heavy with blooms this year, however, we discovered chickadees in a nest chipped out by the parents. As I have written, there are many nooks and holes in this semi-decaying-yet- otherwise- thriving tree. The parents had picked the perfect site for their family which was about 10-12 feet above the ground and in the side of the tree away from street traffic. Fortunately for us, it also faced our front door so we could easily open the door a bit and watch whatever was going on through the screen door and know the family would be none the wiser for our snooping.
We watched mom as she sat on the nest and was brought food by dad. We learned when the eggs hatched and shortly after heard the first croaky baby calls when mom left the nest in search of food for all. Soon, we could actually see the little faces of the family (there were 4 chicks) popping up by the opening whenever a parent left to hunt for food. The calls were louder, quite insistent, and longer.
Not long after this, the strongest, we imagine, started bravely hopping on the edge of the opening to the nest. There were creaky wing flaps and teetery hops in and out. We saw a lot of this one night and the next morning saw this brave little bird on the ground at the bottom of the tree. It apparently had fallen badly and not made it. This just dispirited me and made me very cautious in my snooping on the remaining babies. I just didn't want anything else to "go wrong" (even though my sense of reality told me, of course, that I had very little to do with anything going either "wrong" or "right" for the birds).
Just one or two days later, we looked out on that morning in June and heard nothing. Not a peep. The birds, the remaining 3, had fledged and we had missed it! Again, I felt blue but with the reality that the others had made it out of the nest and off into the "wilds of Seattle". I needn't have been so sure though when I heard the distinct and very loud Chickadee call coming from the grove of Epimedium at the base of the tree. Then I heard and saw both parents responding to the alarm of the baby. I figured out that yet another one had fallen and was stuck in the bushes in our rock garden.
I wanted more than anything to DO something but I stopped myself as all good birders must and simply watched what unfolded. Both parents called and called until the baby bird emerged from the small shrubs, resting whenever it could. Then one or the other parent hopped up on the tree, calling all the while, leading the baby forward. In time, the baby followed wobbling and stopping and loudly calling whenever the parents flew elsewhere (probably to tend to the other two fledglings). I watched this little bird hop out of the shrub and up the side of the tree, onto limb after limb, until it finally got to nest level 6 HOURS LATER. There it stayed for quite some time and this is the picture you see of the bird calling very loudly to his parents. At this point, I had to run into the house for some reason or other and when I returned, I was only able to locate him in a new, higher limb for a mere second before he flew away! This all happened last June on Bloomsday and so I named him Leopold. (Double click the photo for a closer look)

A new nest

Watching the Bushtits build their new nest methodically, meticulously has been a joy each year we've been lucky enough to watch it out our back window. I called them architects earlier. That's so but I'd bet that they're interior designers as well. This past week, they've been inside the nest working. One will fly in and spend several minutes there pushing something into place, poking it's beak into the wall while prodding some feather or piece of lint or moss firmly into place to cushion both mom and the chicks. We can only imagine the inside of this new home in which they'll spend only a few short weeks but, given their skill on the outside, I'm sure the inside is equally marvelous and pretty with it's many varied greens and soft browns. This nest building is fascinating and soothing to witness. We're reassured that "our" little birds will have a safe home.

The Merlins inhabit someone else's old home. I'm relieved to share that we've discovered the new location. In the tree photo, if you look to the right of the trunk, you'll see a few dark twigs and small branches. Voila! That's the new home. It's all we can see of it anyway. It seems that what the nest lacks in beauty and "amenities", it has in security. This picture, unfocussed as it is, is really the best angle for viewing. That's how well covered this nest is and that's how the Merlins (Spike, the female, is pictured) prefer it. I took the shot with my point and shoot from the lens of a birding scope on closeup focus. This look is the best, at the moment, that we'll get until the nest is weighed down by Mom and the kids and buffeted a bit from the winds and rain. These factors always change viewing but, for now, we "gawkers" in the neighborhood will just have to see what we can see and compare notes. It's somewhat ironic that our neighborhood predators, the Merlin Falcons, are hidden away about 100 feet up in a fir tree while the wee Bushtits in our yard dangle on a rose branch 7 feet above the cats and in plain view of the crows.

An old tree

Our old dogwood has probably been around longer than we have. For a dogwood, that is a very long time especially given the disease it has had since way before we got to the neighborhood. Dogwoods around here are susceptible to Botrytis which eats away at the tree and kills it fairly quickly. When we moved here almost 17 years ago, the tree had long since been sick and had a large, dead limb at the top of the tree. We had a tree surgeon lop off that dead wood and look over the rest of it as it never seemed to bloom much back then and just seemed to be getting more and more ill with each passing season. He said, with care and coddling, we might just limp it along for a few more years.

We did this. We fed the earth each Spring and Fall and even though parts of the tree died away and fell off, the core of the tree seemed to improve enormously. The evidence was that new limbs elsewhere emerged and each Spring more and more and more flowers bloomed. We had a second tree expert out to prune some big firs in the backyard a few years ago and, of course, had him look at the Dogwood. He looked it over and pronounced it quite, quite fit. Regardless of how the trunk looked, he thought the tree might just outlive us all!

This year, this shabby looking tree has produced more blooms than it ever has. You both can and cannot tell a book by it's cover or a tree by it's trunk.

Scissortails, Redbirds, Ricebirds, my birds

I've begun rehearsing "Trip to Bountiful" by Horton Foote. It takes place in Houston and further south and follows Carrie Watts' trip to the home of her youth. When she finally gets there, she hears a redbird's song and asks about it. As a very basic birder myself, I had to question just what that bird, a redbird, was. So, last night I did a little "Googling" and discovered that, most likely, a redbird was a reference to just that: a RED bird and probably connoted a tanager or a cardinal. The bird was definitely red at the end of the day.
The scissortail was easier by far to uncover. There are scissortail flycatchers which are all over the state of Texas in the summertime. I looked them up in Sibley and saw all I needed to see there. They are lovely, rather small birds and beautifully colored and with the longest tail feathers for a small bird that you'll ever see. These tail feathers, in flight, open into an inverted V shape and thus put one in mind of open scissor blades. This was a great discovery.
Another mention was of ricebirds. This was a bit more obscure as the definition specified nothing more than birds which fed around rice fields. Bob-o-links were one of the birds mentioned (though only as migrants). Since their name and repute struck me as kind of mysterious and delightful, I chose them as the ricebirds mentioned in the play. How fickle!

Last night, we took our short, flat walk. This was for the exercise of course but, for me, was for the Merlins. Immediately, we went to the "new" site and heard Spike calling out and "picking" but could see no nest site once again. I spent minutes looking and looking for both the bird and the nest site and saw neither. This worries me thoroughly as it bodes badly for a new clutch. Maybe it's just human failing that I cannot see a platform up in that tree! I really do not know and I certainly don't have the knowlege to assess this year's circumstances properly with the information I have. I can only hope (and pray) that the nest is there and my binocs are just not strong enough to see it. I'll just have to keep looking and reporting.

On the other hand, the Bushtits' nest is there, done, full, and ready to go. I watched it tonight but could see no movement nor any birds flying to and fro. That means nothing, though, as the mother could already be inside and sitting on eggs and, thus, not moving! So, I am at that pivotal point with these birds as well as the Merlins. We HAVE A NEST but lack the information! We may have a Merlin nest as well but need the visual information to prove it. In the play, we have the familiar names of the birds but lack the scientific information to identify them ornithologically. Like life (and the play), what a load of questions!

Look at this wee bird!

I've been madly doing chores all the day long because my free time is restricted as of tomorrow. Of the many tasks and desires on my list was the notation to "try to get a bird photo". The only way I could do that was to use the bigger lens and wait for many hours to catch the little critter in the 1.3 seconds it takes to enter and leave the nest. So, the lens has been trained on the nest for the entire day and I've been dashing back and forth after tasks are ticked off that list to spend 5 min. here and there waiting and watching. Just 10 minutes ago (and before cleaning the house), I gave myself the many minutes it would need to simply stand and watch the nest with my camera trained on the big lens, long distance glasses on my face, close ups around my neck and arms aching, screaming from holding them up for minutes at a time. As I stood there stubbornly watching the nest move gently as the bird inside poked and pushed whatever structural material it had in it's beak into place on the inside, I began to doubt this particular desire. The birds are so small and so fast that there didn't seem much sense waiting............. All of a sudden at the mouth of the nest was the Bushtit! There it was and I clicked and hoped, hoped, hoped that I'd managed some image. Enjoy the result.

Birds and a basket

A number of friends and I have been watching the Merlins carefully these past few days trying to divine just what is going on. As I've said, they seem to have relocated their nesting area about 1 block to the east. The problem is that there is no nest/crow's platform that can be seen in the tree. That said, plenty of crows have been "buzzing" our birds, Spike particularly. This would lead me to believe that there is indeed a crows nest somewhere close and they're just trying to protect it. We return to the old question though: where are Spike and Thor going to nest?
The past couple of nights have found them in a very cone-filled, tall, and heavily filled out fir tree and the tree next to it. Spikes's calls ring through the evening air but even a very careful scan of each upper branch of the tree with our binoculars yields nothing. Last night, finally, Spike moved out of the branch cover and we could see her at last. So, if there is a nesting spot there, it would be perfect. The pair have been courting so the need for a nest might be nearing the urgent phase. I'll swing by the site again tonight to see if the situation has settled or, gulp, changed again.
Our Bushtits have been working furiously and reweaving the nest, patching the holes and sheer spots and even (you can compare this photo with prior pix) weaving it around an upper crook of the rose bush thus offering much more stability. These birds are such architects!
Inside, apparently, is yet another environment with strength, of course, stressed to support mother and chicks. Almost more importantly though is softness, cushioning. Mosses and small found feathers and even laundry lint are massed to create a soft pillow for the new family. This is such a contrast to the recycled nest the Merlins use which is constructed of small branches and twigs and, by the time the second owners' nest, is filled with bugs, feathers, last years' food scraps and the birds' droppings. Yikes!
Neither of these habits, though, make one bird more or less appealing or appalling. I love following them both and will continue posting the lastest.
Finally, the basket pictured is my first. It is a Cedar Sampler I learned to make yesterday and is constructed using some NW native methods and, certainly, materials. There is Cedar, Wild Cherry bark, Sweet Grass, and Bear Grass woven in it and it smells of the forest. The weave is involving (it took all day) but fun and I couldn't be happier with the result, however funky.