On the Tail of Great-horned Owls

Yesterday morning I went down the Sundew trail, as I do at least once almost every day. I stopped at the sound of chipping in the bushes. I seldom resort to pishing to view a bird. This little one was not showing itself, but was chipping in a very interesting way. I thought it might be a new species. So I pished him out, and he turned out to be a White-throated Sparrow (which I've seen before, but always appreciate). An American Redstart came over to join in the hubub, and I really enjoy watching them. They're so pretty, and darn cute when they lean down and fan their tails. I was watching Redstart more than usual because of this. Suddenly, I saw a pair of yellow eyes below the passerine. The Great-horned Owl had been in my binocular view the whole time I was watching Redstart, but was so camouflaged against his tree-trunk that I didn't see him until he turned around and blinked at me with his beautiful feathered-eye-lids. He only seemed mildly alarmed at my presence. Redstart was being very brave indeed, scolding so close to the predator. It was such a coincidence that I had decided to pish when a predator was actually nearby. I apologized to Owl for blowing his cover, and continued on down the trail.

A little bit further down, I heard the scratchy call of a fledgling GHOW, who was perhaps attempting to communicate with the adult in response to the disturbance. I went off trail a bit (don't tell) and tried to find him. For a bit, I was going in circles as the young owl seemed to be moving around. Then, I saw him, high in a spruce tree, still wreahh-ing. All I could see of him were his fluffy juvenal undertail coverts and his strong taloned feet grasping the spruce branch, and his tufty "horns" poking up past his head. He then pooped and flew off towards where I had left the adult. I smiled and made my way back to the trail to walk on down to the coast.

Out the window foggy and grey

The fog is slowly erasing and re-drawing the trees and houses outside the window. I think I'll go walk in it soon. I wonder about the birds, particularly tired migrants, in this weather. Is this difficult for them? Does it push the margins just a little too far for some?

Moving boxes, tables, chairs, organizing libraries, attending plant talks, starting a simple dichotomous tree key, and doing odd tasks like sorting rope filled the time this past week. I can't imagine doing this work every year, as well as doing the probably equally time-consuming and tiring task of packing it all up again. It was a relief yesterday to sit down and work on the tree guide. It's fun to think of how to express the keying out of a tree with a kid's perspective in mind. It should be efficient, but not simplistic; accurate but not needlessly detailed. I enjoy seeking the most accurate and efficient expression of information. It's like a game to use the least space, include all pertient information, and still make sense without dilution. I hope (and I do think this will happen) that in the next week, our mostly-physical labor will transition into mostly-intellectual labor.

Learning Education

I was involved in a 2-day teacher workshop entitled "Leopold Education Project" which demonstrates to educators how to teach the values of Aldo Leopold and land-ethic. It was very interesting material; I enjoyed the ideas of using A Sand County Almanac as a curriculum base. There were also lots of opportunities to incorporate my knowledge of birds into the lessons, which I was very excited about, of course! One idea I liked was having the kids research different birds' courtship rituals, then acting them out for their classmates. This lesson was based in one of Leopold's essays "The Sky Dance," describing the amazing ritual of the American Woodcock. Another lesson was bringing kids to see a bird banding demonstration! Leopold was a bird bander, which I didn't know. So, it was an eye-opening and mind-expanding experience. The workshop facilitator left something to be desired, however. I felt some of the time lagged with her talking too much off-topic. But, that itself was an opportunity to think about how I would do things differently.

And now I've got a 3-day weekend which I plan to spend biking, hiking and climbing around. Also, getting some illustrations for my Owlet stories started. There's also an artist-in-residence lesson happening this afternoon which I'm going to attend. This is an interesting project in that it's attempting to meld science and arts, and I'm really glad I'm here.

BAEA morning

This morning's bird walk was auspicious. I biked down to the one-way road, then hid the bike in the trees and continued along the road on foot. Little twitterings of small birds made me look over my right shoulder, where a hulking dark bird sat in the top of a snag. Closer inspection revealed a Bald Eagle who stayed put while I walked around to take photos of his patriotic visage before he grew suspicious of me and flew over the road into the salt marsh.

I continued to walk, stopping to pish out a YBCH, and then took Good Birding Trail (I named it myself, can you tell?), where I had good bird luck before. The trail wasn't as birdy as it had been previously, but I still got BAWW (Black-and-white Warbler)!!! On my way back, there were 4 BAEA over the small bay. 3 looked like adults, and one was a young bird. Upon inspection of my photos, I noticed that the apparently adult bird I had photographed had some white feathers in its underwings, and therefore was young-er. I wonder what the 4-some's affiliation is: all family members?

When I got back to where my bike was stashed, the little triangle where the two-way road meets the one-way road was bursting with birdy activity. Paying attention to BCCHs pays off since all the other birds hang out with them. In addition to the chickadees, I saw YRWA, AMRE, some Vireo (likely Solitary?), and SCJU (Slate-colored Junco)!!! I hereby name that place Mixed Flock Triangle.

More BAEA photos and other pics can be found at http://picasaweb.google.com/susan.culliney

Bird trail

I found a great birding trail this morning. It's flanked by dense but short alders, where birds can feel safe in the thicket but are still fairly visible to birders. I saw a flycatcher (I think it was an ALFL, but can't be sure until I get my bird book, it sounded like an Alder), BCCH which scolded me from an arm's length away, RBNUs everwhere, several NOFL, WTSPs singing, SOSPs chipping, BAEA soaring and later a BWHA! and of course DCCO and HEGU flying overhead. Good bird day! Two different XXWA (one may have been a Magnolia Warbler, the other one I have no idea); and a BTNW which I heard and then saw.

Nice clear morning; some high clouds are rolling in this afternoon.

Maine birds

I've arrived in Maine, flown here on a giant metal bird. Upon stepping out of the airport, I saw some EUSTs foraging in the urban grass, and I swear I heard a HOSP up in the metal jungle of streetlights. On my bus ride, a COHA suddenly shot over the highway, nearly colliding with the bus.

I arrived at night, and heard no owls. The SPOW are far far behind! Their cousins the Barred Owl are home here and I can love them here. I hope to hear one while I'm here. During my days of exploring the area and starting work/getting tours, I've added HETH, GBBG, HEGU, GBHE, BTNW, SOSP, DCCO, AMGO, and BLJA to my Maine list.

It's been foggy the past two days. I think I'll go to the point and hang out this evening, watching for seabirds until the light fades.

Strange Folk at Lagunitas

My net veggies at our Lagunitas Creek banding site have been punctuated by visits from strange folk. The first time I was there I completed nets 2-4, after spending the morning banding with Libby, Anna, and Irene. While finishing up net 2, a man walks down the net trail with a briefcase in his hand. We introduce ourselves and explain what our business is here in nature. It turns out he is sampling the stream because he works for a dam upstream. This is all well, but he turns out to be a talker. When he discovers that I'm sampling the plants, he warns me about poison oak and goes on to describe plants he's seen but that don't sound familiar to me. He incorrectly identifies an Alder and talks about his trip to Costa Rica. After a while I begin to make the motions to get back to work and he leaves me to sample the water. On his way back he talks a little more. He seemed harmless, just appreciative of his captive audience.

The next visit I started the morning attempting to survey net 1. While standing in Quadrant 3, trying to figure out if this blackberry clump is connected to or separate from the rest, I see a dark-grey furry-tailed cat-sized shape out of the corner of my eye. Before I can get a look at its head, it has leaped into the blackberry. I try to chase it away with my measuring stick and yelling. I think it has gone, but then it begins growling ferociously from not very far into the shrubs. It's also making loud coughing or barking-like sounds. I keep yelling, and it keeps growling. I decide that it's either rabid or feeling cornered; either way it's dangerous. I collect my things and leave the area, all to the cadence of growls and barks. At the end of the day, after completing nets 5-10, net 1 remains the only net left, but I'm tired and unwilling to face the adrenaline rush again. Matt and Amanda banded there the next day and they had a Grey Fox growling and barking at them from out in the open, so that must have been what it was.

So, today, I return to Lagunitas with only net 1 needing to be finished. When I arrive, there is a man jogging down the road, away from me, in a blue basketball-style jersey and pants. When I gather my tools and begin down the trail, I see he is now walking and looking back over his shoulder. While climbing over the fence, I notice a side trail in which someone has stashed a large black duffel bag. I'm curious, but I walk past it and get to net 1 where there are no growling animals. While setting up, I hear footsteps above me (net 1 is down low in the blackberries) and clear my throat (ahem!) in an attempt to let whatever human, animal or monster know that I'm here. I walk to where I can see, and there is the Jogging Man, carrying the black duffel bag. He is creeping carefully among what I later find out is poison oak, looking to see if anyone is around. He's not very good at making sure no one is around because he doesn't see me, and apparently didn't hear my ahem. I am thinking he must be getting ready to change out of his jogging suit and so go further down the net lane to where I can't see him. I hear some rustling, and then it's quiet. I decide it's time to get to work and go about my business. Later on, I walk uphill to measure a Bay tree (which was a whopping 84cm DBH!) and notice the black duffel has been moved, right next to the tree I need to measure. I take the measurement, and then curiosity gets the better of me. Looking around (hopefully being more aware than he was), I pull up a cover and peek inside. There's some clothes, folded neatly, and a rolled-up sleeping mat that one would use for camping. I'm not sure what I was expecting: drugs? money? a chopped up dead body? Whoever he is, if he wanted privacy, he picked the wrong site on the wrong day to stash his boring belongings.

So, I surveyed all the nets and I won't be going back. Though I'm sure if I did, some other strange person or animal would be there to greet me.