Closer to Home

Another perfect morning.  The newly arrived golden-crowned sparrows scatter when the garage door opens.  Look in your yard, you might see sparrow-like (since they are,) ground feeders with what looks like a dark horizontal stripe on the heads and a golden stripe on top - thus the name.  They're quick to return to the grassy spot under the sunflower seed feeder after I've moved on.  A spotted towhee is hiding in the rhodie nearby.  Black and rust with lovely white spots on his side (thus the name) and marvelous red eyes.  He utters what has been described as a softly querulous question, sort of a wheeeeet? rising from low to high. He's a skulker, hopping from limb to limb, usually just out of easy sight.  On the other hand, the gold finches don't care who sees them.  Talk, talk, talk.  They squeak and chatter from tree to tree in small, loose flocks that go fly, swoop, fly, swoop.   Their brilliant yellow backs are hard to miss ~ some call them wild canaries for that reason, but they're no relation.  Actually, I think canary song is prettier, but caged birds, oh man.  Can't go there: birds in prison.

The mallard couple is making their cautious way from water to lawn.  The female leads, but the male is taking care to look all around for any stray dogs before proceeding.  She isn't nesting this year for some reason, and the male has stayed with her. They have a sweet bond.  Right now she's grazing around under the niger seed feeder and he is watching around for any threat.  When they've both fed, they will make their way to the water's edge, settle down next to each other and enjoy the sun for awhile.  The great blue heron, statue-like in the shallows, rolls an eye toward them but doesn't move a feather.

Other than this couple,  there are only lonely looking male mallards on the outlet. The other hens have apparently  gone to nest.  They've carefully selected protected spots in the thick new grasses that form floating islands or border the outlet.  But protection only goes so far, since raccoons and otters have no trouble finding these nests if they're in the neighborhood.  It's heartbreaking to watch a critter harvest an egg, break it and savor the contents as the parents watch helplessly nearby.  "Nature red in tooth and claw",  I guess. Tough to see, but it's the way it's gone since long before we were around.  Usually the ducks will have a second (or third) clutch of eggs, and many ducklings DO make it into this world, to charm us with their appearance of very busy fluff-covered floating  golf balls.  If you see a hen with her brood, you may see that she counts them almost continuously.  There can be 10 or more, which keeps her busy counting.  Her head almost bobs as she notes each one.  If danger is sensed, her  low, quiet  call to the gang brings them all quickly around her for further orders. 
Even the hen with the lame leg has had luck this year.   At least I hope she is nesting.

Now it's the quiet of late afternoon on the water.  A soft breeze blows small riffles across the surface, wrinkling the blue sky reflected there. Big yellow skunk cabbages glow like the goldfinches along the bank.  What bird or person could ask for more.