Or, Fat and Happy Hens

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No sooner did I whine about never getting a remotely salvageable picture of quail, then I got my best opportunity to date. Heaven help me if I never improve on this; but, I take it as a hopeful sign. Next time I hope the topknots are visible.

The Husband and I stood inside watching the quail and marveling at how fat they are. I suppose all the fattening up might well indicate that we are in for a long, cold winter. I love watching these birds even if do they thwart my photographic ambitions. There is something about the rhythm of their movements that I find charming and mesmerizing.

I am most often silent on days such as Veteran's Day. Others write eloquent tributes, I am left tongue-tied. The radio station we get devotes a great deal of time to observation of the day and its meaning. I tend to keep the station on all day and appreciate the interviews, music, and tributes. I am grateful that others find words to express what is in my heart and hope you all found a satisfactory way to observe the day.

Broken Wings

If I walk out to the road and back, alone, the killdeer seems quite calm. Note seems. For all I know, her little heart is pounding frantically in her breast as she holds fast to guarding her precious charge. But, she doesn't budge off those eggs.

When, instead, it is a family walk—The Husband, Galen, and I, the story is quite different. Either mama or papa (we are never sure which) goes into the full protection mode. We see the apparently frantic bird skittering across the drive on those stilt-like legs toward the road or, sometimes, we are even treated to the "broken wing act".

Now, what predator could resist following an injured bird hoping, any moment, to pounce on the seemingly helpless prey that pathetically flails just ahead of you? Of course, as you follow the lure, you are being taken ever further from the fragile eggs. (We tread carefully and if the silly bird begins to approach the road, we turn back. We don't want her to dash out into the road and we don't want the eggs left unprotected for long.) Whatever the path of supposed pursuit, when you, the predator, have traveled a safe distance from the nest, the bird is miraculously healed and soars back over your head to the eggs.

We had not seen a killdeer nest on our place until this year. I suspect that they were drawn by the puddles in the circle portion of our driveway. Those puddles threatened to never dry. Because there are plenty of predators around here, I have been concerned from the beginning about the chances of ever seeing killdeer chicks. More recently, I am most concerned that these eggs are never going to hatch and the poor bird will not have her babies this summer.

I did a bit of reading and learned that killdeer chicks remain in the egg longer than most bird species and neither of us can remember exactly when The Husband first spotted the eggs. Meanwhile, The Husband has blocked off the circle so a visitor will not clumsily roll their vehicle over the beautifully camouflaged eggs. We are holding out hope for a little longer. However, we are certain that mama is rapidly running out of time. Nature is full of harsh lessons and disappointments. In spite of the sadness I fear for the expectant mother, I have enjoyed having our very own killdeer educating and delighting us on almost a daily basis.

Note: This post was scheduled for publication Monday morning. During Sunday evening's family walk, we noticed that both mother and father killdeer were in attendance. Mama seemed unwilling to leave the nest to lure us away from her eggs and Dad, instead, was handling guard duty. Hmm. That has not always been the case. Then, on a slight detour from our usual path, we found what was apparently one of the precious eggs, far from the nest. Panic. We had just seen a hawk close by only moments before.

The Husband marked the location of the egg so we wouldn't step on it while I went back to check the nest and see if, indeed, an egg was missing. Mom stood inches away from the nest, but was doing her best to lure me away. Dad came back to pitch in. There were eggs missing all right. And, in their place there were fuzzy little creatures in the nest. I didn't want to get too close for a good look at the newborns. But, I smiled and celebrated all the way back into the house. Mama killdeer knows how to play bird with a broken wing, but she won't have a broken heart. (Yes, I know birds don't have broken hearts; but, hey, that is part of me that is still a girl.)

Windows and Temptations

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I am beginning to think that I may never complete the unpacking and get this house really together—I mean take it beyond simply functional. Too many work areas are positioned to offer a view of the fields, and what am I to do with so many temptations in my path? How can I be expected to concentrate on unpacking boxes, or organizing the last of the cabinets and drawers when I am faced with such wonderful diversions?

Who could resist picking up a camera with swooping hawks; scurrying ground squirrels; a coyote slinking across the field; elk on the trail headed for Cub Lake; the swallows, blue birds, and crows that come and go constantly. Then there always seems to be something blooming, or showing new color. There were poppies, then lupine, then daisies; recently there were rose buds; the hollyhocks are hanging on; and, most of the lavender is still colorful. As if that all weren’t enough, there are the mountains, trees, shadows, and often clouds.

With all that just outside my windows, following through on chores proves hectic. Even meals can be a challenge. Some days, I never manage to finish a hot meal because of all the interruptions. Prepare the food and settle in for the meal. Jump up and grab the binoculars to enjoy the antics of blue birds. Re-settle for another bite. Leap for the camera and slip out the back door to gaze at the hawks—oh, yes, make a few attempts at photographs (the hawks in flight are a challenge I have yet to master). Linger to marvel at the sky, grasses, and trees. Oops, return to microwave to reheat cooled meal; and then, repeat all of the above steps.

Good Looking Red Head

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Okay, that title was a cheap shot and I should be ashamed. I am. Sort of.

We see a fair number of these woodpeckers from time to time. Normally, it is the Husband who spots birds. Almost invariably, I will be fixated on something else and he alerts me. The variety of birds is one of the reasons that I find myself thinking about a 300mm or even 400mm lens. This photograph, (taken with the 200mm f/4L) is cropped quite a bit to provide a closer look.

I love that red topknot. According to our “Encyclopedia of North American Birds” this is an Acorn Woodpecker and that red top is called a “crown”. Not surprisingly, the Acorn Woodpecker prefers woods where oak trees are prevalent. While it isn’t apparent in the photograph, there are plenty of oaks nearby. This fellow appears to be scanning for another part of his diet: unlucky insects.

A Bird in the Bush

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Yesterday afternoon, I took a short break from packing to enjoy the clouds and grabbed the G7, on the way. As I headed back inside, the movement of this bird caught my eye and I snapped. I didn't get a second try. A cyan filter seemed appropriate for this one.