Outside My Window

 I haven’t posted for ages.  I have at least two journal posts tucked up my sleeve about a little reservoir near here, but I haven’t taken the time to finish some of the art.  But it occurs to me I’ve been filling my journal with pages right from my front yard.  The positive part of being home so much, is I have an added appreciation of what goes on right here. 

 

Sept 21:  The insect sign on the oak leaves is a confession about how easily I can get distracted while doing yard work.  We were doing some extensive pruning in our yard and I kept noticing interesting insect sign on the oak branches I was cutting. 

Sept 30:  After most flowers have dried up and withered away, our ivy starts to blossom.  Years ago I sat on a stool and drew insects attracted to the ivy.  I did it again this year – far fewer insects.  I think that is wildfire smoke related.  

 

Oct 9. – I posted a blog about crows and squirrels.  I'm putting the link here because it is very much a part of what goes on outside my house.

https://elvafieldnotes.blogspot.com/2020/10/nature-comes-to-me.html

After not having any wild turkeys in the yard, two toms have started coming through every day.  I’ve been making a point of sketching them ... practicing my sketching skills and getting to know them better.  Dale puts out grain on the ground for the sparrows and along come the toms to clean it up.  After they leave, Dale puts out more grain.  Here come the toms again!  We’ve named them ‘Thanksgiving’ and ‘Christmas’  ... but have given them the obligatory pardon.

Nov 23:  The Stellar’s jays are a treat.  They are still coming.  I just spotted one while working on this blog.  

Dec 19:  Usually Dale and I participate in the annual Audubon Christmas count.  I helped on my first count about 65 years ago!  And during the past 40 years I only missed one.  This year, for the first time. All we did was a ‘feeder count’ – we happen to live within the count circle, so I got to count the birds we can see in our yard.  

Dec 25:  Christmas morning was rainy and dark ... but right away I spotted an Anna’s hummingbird taking a shower on our hawthorn snag.  It was 41 degrees outside!  It was a lovely way to start our quiet Christmas day at home.  

 

Yes, there is a lot that goes on in my own small turf.  

Fluff-and-Buff: Anna's Hummingbirds .. Dec 10

I started out intending to write about ‘Mr. Nasty,’  but is that any way to refer to a hummingbird?  But he is nasty.  From where I often sit at home I watch him … sitting up on a line coming from the street to the house.  That high perch is his attack lookout.  There he sits, just waiting for another hummingbird to have the audacity to sip from HIS hummingbird feeder.  Zoom!  Mad chase as soon as the newcomer enters our front yard.  It’s a wonder anyone gets a sip other than ‘Fluff-and-Buff.’  Fortunately for the others, Fluff-and-Buff sometimes has other matters to attend to, such as a good grooming and fluffing. Eventually others get their opportunity.

Winter has come to western Oregon.  Winter isn’t ferocious here, as it is in Wisconsin where I grew up.  Still, from a hummingbird’s point of view, it is winter.  Our rufous hummingbirds had the good sense to fly south weeks ago.  

The hardy little Anna’s hummingbirds come to our yard all winter.  A few decades ago they seldom ventured farther north than San Francisco, but now some go all the way to Vancuver, Canada.  To do so they survive week-long stretches of freezing weather and a definite lack of flowers to sip nectar from.  I know they prey on little insects too and we seem to have some of those all winter. 

I used to think I was supposed to take my hummingbird feeder down in the fall and nudge the little beasties South.  But one December my neighbor called to say a huddled lump was perched on her deck.  I’d broken my feeder.  Needless to say I quickly cobbled together a hummingbird feeder and hung it inches from the little bird.  I figured he was a goner.  No response.  But a couple of hours later he stirred.  Our duty of catering to a hummingbird had started.  On freezing days we took turns getting up early enough to assure a thawed hummingbird feeder was put out at first light.  Ten winters later we are still doing it. Most nights don't freeze here, so usually the feeder hangs all night.

Now I plan on feeding all winter.  The experts say it’s O.K. to do this.  I’m not keeping the hummingbirds here, just giving them a helping hand.   

When my neighbor telephoned about that cold hummingbird, I didn’t know about the little bird’s trick tucked up its sleeve, or is it ‘under its wing?’  Hummingbirds drop into a torpor to conserve energy.  Some drop their metabolism by as much as 95%.  Breathing slows and body temperature drops.  As a result their energy requirements drop too. 

 I’ve spent part of this morning standing quietly in my front yard, watching Fluff-and-Buff.  Much of the time he was less than ten feet away.  I knew we have two hummingbirds coming to our feeder on a regular basis, but I found out we have three:  two males and one female.  So which male is fluff-and-Buff?  I’m not sure.  Both are last summer’s youngsters just taking on full adult plumage.  One is just a little farther along than the other.  Hard to tell apart except with my photographs.  Amazing to think they can not only survive our December temperatures, but also have enough energy to grow their new set of feathers. 

Just started to get bright colors -- Dec 1

Same bird?  Dec. 10

The first photo was taken on December 1; the second was taken today.  But I can’t be sure if this is the same individual.  Both males I watched this morning are in the process of replacing drab throat feathers with a gorgeous iridescent gorget.   One is just a few days ahead of the other.

Fluff-and-Buff has another trick tucked up his sleeve.  I read recently that hummingbirds are great mimics.  That surprised me. I associate mimicking with mockingbirds, corvids, parrots and such; not hummingbirds.  But as I watch, I realize Fluff-and-Buff spends a lot of time singing his little heart out.  He sits all fluffed up with his throat vibrating … but I can’t hear a darn thing.  Drat.  Is it my ears or human ears in general?  I've sometimes heard snatches, but their song is so high and so quiet.  He obviously has a lot to say.  I just wish I could hear it.

Oh!  I just remembered.  Those little imps have one more trick.  Did you know a hummingbird bill’s are flexible?  It’s the oddest thing to see. 

Winter Hummers

I still can’t get used to humming birds in winter.  Of course our winter isn’t all that harsh, but I still think any sane humming bird should go to warmer climes.  Our winters are green and soggy.  Snow fall on half a dozen days is a lot;  freezing nights are few.

When we first moved here, over thirty years ago, a humming bird in winter was an unusual occurrence. I subscribed to the philosophy I should take down my humming bird feeder in late summer and nudge the little sweeties on their way.  What I didn’t realize is that our common summer humming bird, the rufous hummer, is a smart little creature.  They go south.  Seeing one here in the winter would be very unusual.  The hummers we do get in the winter are Anna’s hummingbirds.  They aren’t in my yard in the summertime, only in winter!  

I still don’t feed in the fall, but, as soon as the weather turned and I caught sight of of an Anna’s, my heart melted and I rushed to put out a feeder.  Later on we had a cold snap.   For over a week either Dale or I got up early to put the feeder out at first light.  We took it in every night so it wouldn’t freeze.  When it was just getting light enough to sort juncoes from white-crowned sparrows, there he would be, waiting for us.  He’d even sneak a few sips while I reached to hang the feeder!  Have you ever been tickled by a hummingbird?  

Most of the winter our regular visitor has been an immature male Anna’s, but when the weather was its nastiest we suddenly had four hummers! Big, wet snow flakes drifted down and there sat four Anna’s hummingbirds, all fluffed up.   It was as if it was too cold to argue.  They perched and bickered and mostly inhaled our sugar water.  As soon as the weather improved we were back down to one pugnacious immature male and a second who’d sneak in when the coast was clear.     

I happened to be in the yard one day when a glorious mature male perched first at one end of the yard and then the other, scolding the whole while ... but he wouldn’t come close to the feeder.  

About ten days ago the tides turned.  Now ‘Fancy Dan,’ the beautiful male Anna’s is the regular visitor and the immature male sneaks in when the coast is clear.  Fancy Dan is such a handsome fellow!  Depending on the angle of light, his iridescent feathers can be almost black .... or magnificent.  

And he knows he is magnificent.  I caught him perched, puffed, and singing his pea-pick’n heart out.  The song is so soft I can barely hear it from less than fifteen feet away.