Scarlet Tanager

In this image (shot through my living room window), the Scarlet Tanager looks more ethereal than flesh. Seconds earlier I had spotted him perched atop my empty seed tray (below).

The persistent visits by a Black Bear to my feeder necessitated that I stop feeding the birds, which disturbs me to no end. If you want to see photos of the bear, check out my other blog, 26 Years to Live the July 20th post.

But back to the tanager . . . Seeing this secretive, woodland bird visit my empty feeder was simply too much. Against all better judgment, I quickly filled the tray. And, of course, the black bear returned that night for another visit. Despite this slip, I am weaning myself of the compulsive habit to fill the tray when empty. I'm sure the birds aren't happy but then neither am I. Then again, I'll soon be moving from this home and property of 17 years, and who knows if the next owner will be a bird lover like me? If not. then I'm merely preparing them for a coming reality. But I take solace in the knowledge that the neighborhood birds of my next home will soon know the bounty of an endless supply of black oil sunflower seeds.

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

Georgia Anne

A Butterfly Break for the Great Spangled Fritillary

Last year, sometime during the summer, I took a break from profiling birds to highlight a butterfly. And since it's been boiling outside for a week (I've had little interest in bird watching), allow me to post an image--taken before the heat wave hit--of a butterfly, the Great Spangled Fritillary.

As I'm no authority on butterflies, I'll simply direct you to a link from which I learned to identify this pretty orange visitor to my butterfly garden:

http://www.simplybutterflies.com/Backyard_Butterflies.html#greatspangledfritillary

Keep cool and don't forget to keep birds--and butterflies--in your heart (and gardens)!

Georgia Anne

Uncommon Yellowthroat

Let's set the record straight: there's nothing "common" about the Common Yellowthroat. While I know this adjective is meant to describe the masked warbler's population and distribution, I object, even so, to its association with such a delightful bird.

Not only is the male a striking study (the female is olive green on top with a yellow throat), but his song is also distinctive--one you can't fail to identify: "wich-i-ty, wich-i-ty, wich-i-ty" . . . is how it's typically described. Yet to my ears this fellow is saying, The witch is here! The witch is here! The witch is here! Granted, I don't think of myself as a witch, but I like the attention.

So until next time . . . keep birds in your heart. And see if you can't spot or hear an Uncommon Yellowthroat in your yard before they migrate south (to Central America) for the winter.

Northern Flicker

In my last blog on the Eastern Kingbird, I stressed that I never truly recognize a bird's unique behavioral characteristics until experiencing them first hand. And that is the theme we'll explore today, again, in my comments on the Northern Flicker.

A couple days ago, Bridget (my black lab) and I went up on the pasture for an early evening stroll. Whenever I remember, I grab my camera because, let's face it, Facebook is always hungry for photos. (By the way, if you've never checked out my FB page, please do. Search under my trilogy title Of the Wing. Typically, I post bird images to Facebook before posting to my Bird Blog.) But back to the story . . . as usual, Bridget was exercising her right as a canine to irritate the pasture-loving fauna by prancing into the tall grasses and pouncing on whatever beckoned--by movement or smell. This day, it was the Northern Flicker.

I didn't immediately recognize the bird scuttling along the path, though I did instantly see the conspicuous white rump. I was more concerned that Bridget was about to grab it into her jaws.

"Bridget, N0!" I ordered, and being a wonderful and sensitive dog, she instantly desisted. (Talk about an evolved dog . . . I think Bridget understands she isn't to hurt birds, at least when I'm around). As I hurried past Bridget to see the quarry, I saw this large bird, as captured in my photo, which did not fly into the air but hurried over the ground. Since the bird did not take flight, I thought it was injured, and chased after to grab it--the very act I denied Bridget.

I held the bird gently while it tried to defend itself, pecking at my fingers to no avail. That's when I noticed the red patch on its nape and knew it to be a woodpecker. As I carried it to a tree branch, I marveled at the beauty of his wings, bordered in a golden yellow (as I recall). I reverently placed him on a low branch of a wild cherry, from which he immediately flew (wings seemingly working well) to a distant spot halfway down the hill.

Only later, when investigating information online about the Northern Flicker, did I discover that the flicker scuttles awkwardly over the ground feeding on ants. And apparently that's how Bridget and I stumbled upon him--quite innocently, of course.
Except for a good fright and unsolicited "lift," this flicker got away and "lived to tell the tale." And I hope he doesn't mind if I do, too.

Till next time . . . if you see a flicker scuttling over the ground, let him be. He's just looking for ants. And don't forget to forget to keep birds in your heart.

Georgia Anne