Double Downies

At the time I took this quick (and somewhat blurry) shot of two male Downy Woodpeckers, I didn't understand the purpose it would be put to.

I took several clearer photos of one individual and then the other, but when they posed together, I knew this would be the winning photo.

There is something evocative about seeing two birds, almost mirror images, for an instant aligned--especially when this was not their intent. Targeting the seed tray, each took evasive action to avoid the other, only to land side by side on the post. I wonder at their surprise, looking into the others eyes.

So to what purpose do I put this photo? Obviously it is my featured bird image of the week . . . but something more. Today I use this 100th posting to my Bird Blog, as well as its photograph, to introduce my own "double," that is, another blog.

For some weeks I've entertained the notion of beginning another public forum, one wherein I can expand my commentary to almost anything. Of course, every blogger must follow a theme, else her postings may become mere ramblings.

My theme, also the title of my new blog, is . . .

26 Years to Live

Read the first posting at

http://26yearstolive.blogspot.com/

Till next time . . .

Georgia Anne Butler
p.s. Be sure to visit--and consider following--both my blogs!

Three Bats and a Lone Nighthawk

Two consecutive evenings this week, I sat outside waiting for dusk to descend and Little Brown Bats to take to air. I'm sure most of you have heard of the horrendus fungus--White-nose Syndrome--which is decimating our bat population. The name derives from a white fungus that grows around a bat's nose and face during its winter hibernation in caves. The outbreak began in New York state (2007) and has since spread to nine others. In that time millions of hibernating bats have died.

Sadly, the evening sky over my home no longer holds dozens of bats foraging for insects. In fact, I take heart to see even a few . . . those individuals lucky enough to have survived--at least one more winter--without contamination.

While pondering this, I was surprised (and thoroughly pleased) to see a lone Common Nighthawk, diving and swooping with the bats to feed on moth, mosquito, or other flying insect. (Public Domain drawing by Federal Government.)

Late summer last year (9/14) I posted on an entire battalion of migrating Common Nighthawks, an experience I won't soon forget. So to see this lone individual, keeping company with a few bats, seemed somehow poignant, especially when I read of the nighthawks' population decline (as explained and experienced by the Urban Birder, David Lindo).

In these days it seems we can take nothing for granted. Certainly not Little Brown Bats or Common Nighthawks. To help them and all species under duress, we must first recognize the problem.

In just a bit I'll be heading outside to see if these unlikely companions make a third showing this week. Here's hoping!

Till next time . . . Keep birds--and bats--in your heart!

Georgia Anne Butler

Teased by Two Rock Pigeons

The teasing began about noon today and continues as I write this entry. It began as I sat outside reclining on a wooden lounge under a white birch tree reading a book. I saw two whitish, pigeon-sized birds descending toward the pond, their wings whistling. They looked and sounded like pigeons--yet what business did pigeons have landing in water? I bolted upright in my seat, straining to see behind the tall grasses rimming the pond, just as said pair lifted again to the air.

How odd, I thought, returning to my book.

Later, I strolled about the pond, enjoying the warm, summer-like day. That's when the two pigeons flushed from the opposite bank, deep and dense with vegetation. Still here, then? I asked aloud. The idea that they found my yard hospitable was pleasant.

Later still, after having been in for awhile, I went out yet again, now inspired to capture images of the inhabitant in and around the pond--blue gill and dragonflies, to be precise. I was busy with this task when I looked up to find a Rock Pigeon perched upon the top of a weathered, neglected picnic table.

I was surprised because he (or she) did not fly off but watched me. I risked lifting the camera to take a shot . . . and still he stayed. Then I took another and another. Still the bird watched me. I began to talk to my visitor, approaching slowly, becoming convinced this was not a wild bird. I wasn't wearing my reading glasses but noticed now what looked like bands on his legs. I took a close up shot of his legs--and, yes, both were banded.

Apparently I was playing host to a pair of homing and/or racing pigeons. I walked away to get some sunflower seeds and crusts of hard bread to offer this unexpected guest, but when I returned, he or she was gone.

Oh well. At least I got lots of photos, I thought.

A bit later, out again strolling with the dogs (did I mention this was a lazy Saturday for me?), I sat on the ground trying to photograph a cricket on a leaf and what do you think happened?

One of the Rock Pigeons flew from its perch in a tall white pine. Apparently, they're still visiting and I couldn't be more pleased.

Till next time . . . keep birds in your heart!

Georgia Anne Butler

Baby Song Sparrow

This isn't so much a new posting as an addendum to last week's on the Song Sparrows hanging around my front yard. I thought they were nesting in my rain gutter (which I thought odd). Well after a heavy deluge last week, I checked my roof's gutter for the nest but found none. Just a bit later, I accidentally discovered the nest in a cedar shrub when confronted by its recent occupant--a fledgling, whom I suspect abandoned "ship" with the rain (just a suspicion).

Till next time . . . Keep birds in your heart!

Geogia Anne Butler

For the beginning birder, sparrows are often hard to tell apart. In fact, even vetern birders use the phrase "little brown birds" or LBBs when faced with sparrows (or wrens or finches, etc) too distant to distinguish. But of course once you've studied sparrows for a few years, you'll begin to recognize their differences without too much trouble.

One way to begin is to organize sparrows into groups (as Tory Peterson did in his A Field Guide to the Birds), for instance, those with rusty "caps," those with streaked breasts, or those with clear breasts. There are still finer distinctions but you get the idea.

Among the streak-breasted sparrows, the Song Sparrow is more conspicuous than others because he and she bear a large, dark central spot on their breasts. (The Song Sparrow is a "monomorphic" species meaning the sexes are physically similar. See last week's post on the Purple Finch for an example of a "dimorphic" species, that is, birds dissimilar in appearance between the sexes).

Just to make things more interesting, the Song Sparrow isn't the only sparrow to bears a central spot. For instance, the American Tree Sparrow does as well. However, the Tree Sparrow falls into the "rusty-capped" and "clear-breasted" groups, so there's no worry about confusing him with the Song Sparrow.

Finally, another visual aid in determining whether the "little brown bird" in your yard is a Song Sparrow is this: Look for a thick, dark malar or moustache stripe. This stripe is not very pronounced in the image of this Song Sparrow taken from my upstairs window. Given his gentle markings overall, I suspect this bird maybe be a juvenile. To compare him (or her) against a more heavily marked Song Sparrow, check out the picture provided by another photographer and posted to my August 1, 2009 blog.

Next time you see a "little brown bird," check to see if it might be a Song Sparrow!

Till later . . . Keep birds in your heart!

Georgia Anne Butler