Migration is in full swing. It seems to be something that I keep returning to. I just read a post about one of the Peregrine Project birds - Island Girl. In order to learn more about peregrine migration, the Project has attached small, non-invasive solar powered GPS transmitters on the backs of some birds. Island Girl is one. You can follow her third trip south on line. She left Baffin Island last week and is following a path south through Ontario. The last two years she has spent the winter in south-central Chile in an area called Putu Dunes. Some trip!
She actually spent time last year near the major quake site in Chile. As many did, she moved upland to safer territory right after the quake. Not that a bird would be in danger, but move she did.
Peregrines have been called the fastest birds in the world. They hunt from high in the sky (they have incredible vision) and when they spot prey far below, they tuck their wings and head straight down at well over 200 miles per hour. Some researchers have attached tiny cameras to the heads of some birds and followed these dives. Dizzying doesn't even come close to describing the ride!
Anyway, check in on Island Girl. Watch her progress south and cheer her on. Go to www.frg.org then click on Southern Cross Peregrine Project, then go either to the tracking maps or to the blog. If you go to the maps, click on "Island Girl" and scroll down to see her daily movements. The blue dots indicate where she rested last night, the yellow dots indicate where she is at 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. There is also a photo of the lovely girl.
Sometimes I think technology is over the top and is taking over our lives. But then something like this comes along where I can fly with a peregrine, and I love it.
Winter Sunset, Loomis Outlet
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Complications
Using my computer has become temporarily most challenging. I have a cast on my left arm due to a break in a small wrist bone. So, postings will be briefer for the next few weeks. This is a real lesson in patience.
TRUCE
Few trees
dot the endless shimmering desert,
mile on mile of blue sage softness
falls away to dry lake beds.
Ancient windmill platform
on the Double O ranch
makes a nest for a Canada goose
where she broods her clutch of eggs.
Gray feathers blend to weathered wood,
serpentine head rests in shadow
as her vigilant eye follows this trespasser
who marks a respectful distance.
Lower on the windmill
a great horned owl crouches,
henlike, on her nest.
Lovely cat face, eartufts erect
she too watches.
Hunter and hunted are now
two cautious mothers.
Need mandates a truce:
bone-deep enmity is set aside.
Two patient hens
warm the next generation.
SS
TRUCE
Few trees
dot the endless shimmering desert,
mile on mile of blue sage softness
falls away to dry lake beds.
Ancient windmill platform
on the Double O ranch
makes a nest for a Canada goose
where she broods her clutch of eggs.
Gray feathers blend to weathered wood,
serpentine head rests in shadow
as her vigilant eye follows this trespasser
who marks a respectful distance.
Lower on the windmill
a great horned owl crouches,
henlike, on her nest.
Lovely cat face, eartufts erect
she too watches.
Hunter and hunted are now
two cautious mothers.
Need mandates a truce:
bone-deep enmity is set aside.
Two patient hens
warm the next generation.
SS
Sunday, September 11, 2011
In Memoriam
Dawn Chorus
What I imagine are
the tiny, darting spirits
all thousands of them
once young or old now
forever unaging.
Spirits flashing seen
and then
unseen
in the early perfect light
of that next dawn.
In the Park, the heart of the City,
the birds
oh, the birds still sang.
Ten thousand songs
rose up that morning
to remind us-
our hold on life is as delicate
as the singing thrush's breath
made visible on the cool morning air.
SS
What I imagine are
the tiny, darting spirits
all thousands of them
once young or old now
forever unaging.
Spirits flashing seen
and then
unseen
in the early perfect light
of that next dawn.
In the Park, the heart of the City,
the birds
oh, the birds still sang.
Ten thousand songs
rose up that morning
to remind us-
our hold on life is as delicate
as the singing thrush's breath
made visible on the cool morning air.
SS
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Zen Birding
I've been thinking about the practice of meditation and how it relates to birding for awhile. I'm a miserable failure (so far) at sitting, legs crossed, mindful, for 20, or even 15 minutes. I'm not disciplined and have felt like kind of a failure about the whole thing. Then this wonderful book came into my life: "Zen Birding" by David M. White and Susan M. Guyette. Birding fits perfectly as a zen activity. As the authors state "...the essence or Zen-ness of birding ...is learning to appreciate birds as cohabitants of this planet and as masters of their environments who have much to teach us about harmonious, everyday ordinary life."
Birding can be anything the birder wants to make of it. At the far end of the spectrum are the listers, or twitchers, whose sole purpose is to find and check off every possible bird they can see. The list is the master. Long, expensive trips are nothing if you can tick off a few more rarities. There are around 9,900 birds to put on a world list now, so that entails a lot of work. There are several folks worldwide who are in the high eight thousands. Maybe higher, I don't keep track. On the other end of the spectrum are the folks who enjoy backyard birds, put out feeders and pretty much know what bird is there in each season. It's what you want to make of it.
Many avid listers also enjoy every bird they see. There's a book written about Phoebe Snetsinger called "Life List". Phoebe was an intrepid woman who got her list to the eight thousand range before she died. Incidentally, she died in a bus wreck in Madagascar, chasing birds. She was in her 70's. She had been told in her 50's that she had terminal cancer and six months to live. So she started doing exactly what she wanted to do with her life, which was birding.
Most birders fall somewhere in between these two ends.
I do have a world list and I'm proud of it. I've seen 1,158 of the birds in the world and every one of them was a treat. I've looked for probably twice that many and have either missed them, or seen them so poorly that I didn't feel I could enter them on my list. That's where the zen comes in. What do I get from birding? If it's a tail end disappearing into the brush, why count that? The experience is the thing.
It's pretty easy for me to be in the present when I'm looking at a bird. I've been taking my cup of coffee out to the side yard early every morning and sitting. No binoculars, which is a real challenge. Look at who comes to the feeders, how they feed, who's bossy, who hangs back. How do the small flocks of chickadees interact? What about the nuthatch with his toy horn-honk noise?
If I understand correctly, being present is the important thing. Not thinking of past or future, just what is in front of me. The more open we are, the more aware, the more we pay attention to all of it, the more we will learn. The songs will become familiar and you will attach a song to a bird. Certain birds will be expected certain times of day and certain seasons. This is the learning they offer to us. There is a zen saying "when the student is ready, the teacher appears." Being open to lessons and beauty, not making assumptions, being patient. Big one for me.
I'm afraid I've provided a clumsy explanation of a very special subject. Rumi says it better:
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the door sill
Where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.
Rumi
Birding can be anything the birder wants to make of it. At the far end of the spectrum are the listers, or twitchers, whose sole purpose is to find and check off every possible bird they can see. The list is the master. Long, expensive trips are nothing if you can tick off a few more rarities. There are around 9,900 birds to put on a world list now, so that entails a lot of work. There are several folks worldwide who are in the high eight thousands. Maybe higher, I don't keep track. On the other end of the spectrum are the folks who enjoy backyard birds, put out feeders and pretty much know what bird is there in each season. It's what you want to make of it.
Many avid listers also enjoy every bird they see. There's a book written about Phoebe Snetsinger called "Life List". Phoebe was an intrepid woman who got her list to the eight thousand range before she died. Incidentally, she died in a bus wreck in Madagascar, chasing birds. She was in her 70's. She had been told in her 50's that she had terminal cancer and six months to live. So she started doing exactly what she wanted to do with her life, which was birding.
Most birders fall somewhere in between these two ends.
I do have a world list and I'm proud of it. I've seen 1,158 of the birds in the world and every one of them was a treat. I've looked for probably twice that many and have either missed them, or seen them so poorly that I didn't feel I could enter them on my list. That's where the zen comes in. What do I get from birding? If it's a tail end disappearing into the brush, why count that? The experience is the thing.
It's pretty easy for me to be in the present when I'm looking at a bird. I've been taking my cup of coffee out to the side yard early every morning and sitting. No binoculars, which is a real challenge. Look at who comes to the feeders, how they feed, who's bossy, who hangs back. How do the small flocks of chickadees interact? What about the nuthatch with his toy horn-honk noise?
If I understand correctly, being present is the important thing. Not thinking of past or future, just what is in front of me. The more open we are, the more aware, the more we pay attention to all of it, the more we will learn. The songs will become familiar and you will attach a song to a bird. Certain birds will be expected certain times of day and certain seasons. This is the learning they offer to us. There is a zen saying "when the student is ready, the teacher appears." Being open to lessons and beauty, not making assumptions, being patient. Big one for me.
I'm afraid I've provided a clumsy explanation of a very special subject. Rumi says it better:
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the door sill
Where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.
Rumi
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