Wow. We've had several months of really great Dawn Chorus diaries... now it's (more or less) back to form. Don't get too used to it yet, because Pam LaPier is hosting next week with a diary on gulf birds(which is to say - another really great diary).
The time away didn't quite turn out as expected.
So, yeah. Took the summer off from writing this series so I'd have a bit more time to work on some other things, and also because I was going to be away a bunch of weekends. Well, I did manage to get away a few times to Yosemite, and several weekends at our cabin. Actually picked up my paints and did some watercolor for the first time in many years. Part of the plan was to start doing some original artwork for these diaries, and that will yet happen.
Spotted Towhee in silhouette, just outside my office window.
But having the monitor on my laptop die - that wasn't part of the plan. My screen went black, and all the photos that I'd been so carefully organizing became essentially inaccessible. New laptop arrived this week, so next weeked I'll see how it will be to connect from the cabin. Fingers crossed.
And... having my beloved macaw Amelia die - well, that really wasn't part of the plan. It was totally unexpected, and it really sucked all the color out of life. Hence the diary theme, but I'm mentioning it now because I can't bear to end on a down note. Let's get to some more lively black...
Keeping an eye on on the skies.
That crow in the intro section? I spent the spring listening to it and its mate get into territorial clashes with the Red-shouldered Hawks who nested up the street from my office. In May, my coworker noticed that the crows were making a lot of trips to the tree near her desk. In previous years, I'd seen crows in the trees gathering twigs but this year they seemed to be bringing the twigs in. They built a nest at eye level, just a few feet off the deck outside our office.
Things quieted down between them and the redshoulders while they were all incubating. In late June, the hawks fledged and the neighborhood skies were once again filled with their calls. The crows got rather vocal as they kept their territory free of intruders. In early July, another voice joined the mix - a little squawk, almost jay-like, from the nest.
My first glimpse of the nestling crows - this was the smaller one...
Over the next few weeks, the tiny squawks got louder and more insistent. The parents' arrival at the nest was greeted with a few minutes of calling and squabbling. It's a wonder they could keep the kids safe with all that racket, but the nest was nearly invisible even though I knew exactly where it was.
... and this was the slightly older sibling.
I didn't want to stress them out, so I usually watched their comings and goings from behind the office windows, but I did venture closer a few times as the kids got older. At long last, the kids made the jump from the nest, flying (and clumsily landing) around the neighborhood.
A week later, they're nearing fledge time. Their beaks are longer and darkening, and their eyes are wide open... and bright blue.
Right around that time, I watched newly fledged ravens near my home, near our cabin, and at Yosemite. It was fun to see these naive young birds venturing out into the wilder world for the first time, know that they'd soon be the smartest creatures in the air there.
Common Raven fledgling, Año Nuevo State Beach
There's the pain of loss, both on the personal level and in watching the summer's devastation in the Gulf. But despite that, life really wants to go on. Seeing all of these fledglings discover that they can fly is enough to bring life back to the full spectrum.
Steller's Jay brings some color, even when it's in shadow...