The small gifts among us

You can guess this is going to be about a small bird.  But the kind of bird might be a surprise.  House sparrows, or English sparrows, are often seen as a pest bird, much like starlings.  Both species were brought over from England to provide a reminder of home to some transplanted English folks.  It took several tries for the starlings to be successful, but I think I recall reading that the English sparrows took to us right away.  They are everywhere, they are aggressive, they are survivors. 

This story is about one tiny, newly-hatched sparrow and the human that adopted him. I hesitate to use the word 'adopted' as it was a very egalitarian relationship.
  This sparrow appeared in the flowerbed of a house in southeast Portland, looking like a little pink scrotum or words to that effect.  And that's how newly hatched birds look- not very appealing, except to the parent bird, I hope.  This one had fallen from a nest very high in a tree where it was impossible to replace him.  The man who lived in the house was early middle-age and knew absolutely nothing about birds.  Nor did he care, really. He was an electronics technician,  not working in the natural sciences.  But he just couldn't leave this tiny, struggling bit of life to its probable grisly fate in his yard.

What follows is the story of a deep and loving (yes - read the book) relationship between bird and man.  There is humor, jealousy, sadness and wonder written in the pages.  "B", as he named the sparrow, had daily rites and routines, and woe be to the human if anything were to interfere, as Chris, the human, was very much a part of the activities.  Chris was devoted to this opinionated and passionate bit of life, and B was devoted to him.  He waited anxiously for Chris's return from work every evening, whence B would land on Chris's shoulder, inch up toward his neck, and snuggle there most contentedly.  Some would call this imprinting, when newly-hatched birds identify the first individual with a pulse as 'mother' and follow them faithfully.  But this relationship deepened as B matured into a full grown sparrow. 

He liked to play, stealing bookmarks and hiding objects, then watching with excitement as Chris tried to find them.   He had his own room:  no cage for this little guy.  'War bird' was the first game of the day, which involved much furious flying in a very specific manner, interacting with Chris, ending with B triumphant on Chris's fingers, panting and bowing.  Wow.  A sparrow. 

Life was divided for Chris into "before B" and "after B".  Reading about his death was hard.  Living it for Chris and his partner Rebecca, was infinitely harder.  After many happy years, B developed an overwhelming infection from who knows what, and died quite quickly.  By this time, he had inspired them to obtain more birds: more sparrows and some finches.  They were hooked.  But there was no replacement for B.  Their sorrow was deep.

But look what that little bird did.  Chris wrote a book, The Providence of a Sparrow, which was the Literary Arts winner at the Oregon Book Awards in 2002.  Through that book, B has touched so many lives.  And how very deeply he touched Chris.  There is a photo at the opening of the book which shows Chris (who looks a bit like Gregory Peck) cuddling B to his cheek.  Chris's eyes are closed and B sits deeply and happily in the palm of his hand.  Pure, pure love.

So the next time you see a family of sparrows, or even just one,  think of B and the gift that this seemingly anonymous little creature gave. 

Not a whit, we defy augury; there's a special
providence in the fall of a sparrow.

--William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Little gleaners around us

I've talked a lot about birds (and other critters) just trying to make a living like all of us.  We see behaviors that might disgust or repel, such as vultures and crows eating road kill, and it's easy just to be repelled and not think any further.  Consider that they're the world's clean-up crew, which is a pretty valuable niche, job-wise. 
My favorite clean-up bird can be found in every busy parking lot.  They're at Fred Meyer, Costco, Safeway.  They're small, dapper, and very adept at dodging shopping carts and cars.  Brewer's blackbird males are black with a lovely lemon-colored eye, the females are graphite gray.  They have a characteristic walk, kind of a little strut, as they zip between cars, over the bark-dusted barriers, looking for any morsel that has found its way to the ground.   They keep a weather eye on humans, especially the skate-boarding kind. 
To me, they show endurance and optimism.  Every time I see them, which is often, I have to smile.   

Brewer's Blackbirds


"Everything for the birds around your yard" 
reads the strip mall sign.  Saturday rain puddles
glint on black tarmac.


A gang of blackbirds, the local contingent,
patrols between cars, under
shrubs, near the gutter.
Like perfect black wind-ups
they step smartly around
shopping carts, loose dogs, skateboards.
Dove gray females and inky
lemon-eyed males 
goose step for the smallest morsel.


Behind the store window, 
I browse
past ornate fountains, high-priced feeders
toward squat buckets filled with seed in jewel colors:
oynx sunflower, golden corn,
ruddy ground peanuts - just the ticket
on a wet Oregon day.


Never a thief, I
pocket a handful of gold
stroll out the door,
and like chicks they come running
when they see the grain fly.
They race to each bit not stopping to savor
for who knows when luck will favor them again?
They peck and discuss their good fortune
and fill the morning
with shining black optimism.  

ss

King Eider ~ Another Vagrant

This is the winter for wonderful, unusual birds.   There are snowy owls virtually everywhere in Oregon and Washington.  The online chat groups are buzzing.  The owls in Albany, Oregon,  and Vancouver, Tacoma and Edmonds, Washington are getting the most attention.  Since these are major population centers, many interested folks are able to see  birds that they normally never would see.  Mixed blessing for the owls, as in some cases, they are being loved too much, to the point of harassment. When a bird can't feed and rest undisturbed, it causes stress. Many people want to get as close as possible, which causes the owls to fly away.  If this happens over and over, stress results.  Most birds will eventually end up in a less populated area where they can hunt and rest.  But think of this when you see flocks of shorebirds on the beach.  Repeated chasing by people and dogs can be exhausting, stressful, and prevent the birds from getting a decent meal.  Enough on that.

There are two other great  birds to check out this fall.
An emperor goose is spending the winter on a golf course just north of here and a king eider duck (yep, like the eider down in very good comforters) is also just north, about mid-Washington state on the coast.  Even though this is a female king eider, she is only jokingly referred to as a 'queen eider'.  To be correct, she's a female king, which sounds funny but is accurate.
Anyway, these are also birds of the very far north.  These heavy-duty ducks spend the winter in an area humans consider very inhospitable.  This bird probably originated in eastern Siberia, or far north Alaska or Canada, according a birding friend in England, where they are a bit less unusual.  She would normally spend the winter in the Bering Sea area.  Quite a climate difference from off-shore Washington state!
As more and more people become interested and aware of birds, more and more reports of 'unusual' sightings occur.  Probably birds have moved around, out of the territories that we have defined for them, for ages. Literally.  I think about the vast areas of eastern Oregon and Washington.   Miles and miles of open country with a few scattered ranches.  I'll bet there have been what we call rarities occuring there forever.  It's wicked cold and windy over there, perfect for the occasional gyrfalcon and snowy owl that we humans see and rejoice over.
  We are what has changed, not the birds. 
I'm glad these rarities are here.  They're getting write-ups in the local papers like visiting celebrities.  As more people pay attention and become interested, maybe more care and attention will be paid when birds are threatened by human incursion. 
This is a year when  northern birds are having a tough time making a living and they've moved to new digs for the season.  Please get to know your new neighbors and make them welcome and safe.

Snowy Owls are here!

Every few years we're lucky in the northwestern states, and snowy owls move down to spend the winter.  There's been lots of discussion on the why of this ~ they truly are a bird of the far north.  A move south is called an 'irruption' and it usually comprises young, darker birds.   These birds probably don't have established territory up north which makes them more likely to be vagrants, and a crash in the lemming population (their favorite food) will force them to more favorable hunting grounds.
In early November of this year,  word was out that snowy owls were being sighted on the north Washington coast.  It wasn't long before reports were coming in from southern Washington, and now there are snowy owls being seen all along the Oregon coast and inland.  One year a young snowy spent the winter at the Salem airport.
They seek open, grassy fields in order to hunt mice.  What you'll see is a short, squat shape on the edge of an open field.  If it is a young bird, they'll be mottled brownish, but still mainly white.  If they're adults, they're the purist white imaginable.  They sit motionless for hours, watching for movement in the field, then in utter silence, they swoop out and down, taking their prey in powerful dark talons.
One year not too long ago, there were several snowy owls at Fort Stevens State Park, on the very northwest tip of Oregon.  They were easily visible from the viewpoint parking lot.  Made me nervous~ they're great targets: big, white and immobile.  I don't think any owls were shot.    But this year, one very adventurous and off-the-track snowy owl made it to Hawaii, only to be shot there.   My god, what are people thinking.
Anyway, at Fort Stevens the day I was there, there was also a huge flock of shorebirds- sandpipers-resting in a sandy swale really close to a perched snowy owl.  Didn't they know?  They seemed quite relaxed about the whole thing until the owl swooped from his snag perch and almost casually flew among the now-panicked sandpipers.  They flew up and circled desperately, but the owl just  extended one powerful foot, and there was dinner.   Again, hard to watch, but that how nature does it.  The owl is trying to earn a living, like the rest of us. 
The online birders' email group is reporting a snowy owl very near here.  Wish me luck, I'm going to try for it.