Green green green

Much better than last year's drought, but my nose won't stop itching.

With parakeet accompaniment

It was more spectacular before I thought to grab the camera, of course.



I grew up hearing this called sheet lightning or heat lightning, but to be correct I think it's actually called intra-cloud lightning.

I didn't realize, until playing it back, how loudly the frogs out in the pond were singing. And inside, you can hear Beaker (our parakeet, aka budgie) squawking, whistling, and talking. At around 11-12 seconds he says, "crazy bird". You'll have to have your ears pricked and the sound turned up to hear it.

Further adventures in bad bird photography

Once again, my digiscoping skills leave a lot to be desired.



Enough, though, to say about our new yard bird: "Yep, that's a Wigeon!" (American Wigeon, Anas americana.)

When I first spotted him, I thought the Hooded Mergansers had finally returned. (We haven't seen them all season, and usually they've arrived by Thanksgiving.) But a new yard bird is more exciting, even if he didn't stay long.

According to the Cornell birds site, they're a species that's increasing. (They don't say why.) I haven't watched enough Wigeons to say whether its nervous-seeming behavior was normal, or whether this individual was just anxious at being alone. He darted this way and that, in an unsettled fashion, mostly in areas where the water was too deep for dabbling.

Judging by range maps, not a lot of Wigeons winter near here, though I've seen them several times at Wheeler Wildlife Refuge. Wheeler's bird list calls them "abundant". Oh boy, is that right - I remember once searching through what seemed like a million little green baldpates before finding the one little brown one belonging to the Eurasion Wigeon vagrant in the crowd. Then after moving the scope, I never found him again.

While searching for range maps, I came across this site that has transmitters tracking Wigeons. Fascinating! Such a high mortality rate though, so sad. I don't know why I was so surprised that the survivors all returned to the same North Carolina refuge they started from, but I was.

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P.S. Bonus points if you know why this bird makes me think of pineapples.

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Update:
In other birding news, it's almost an all-feathered NFL playoff! The Charger-Steelers game isn't over yet, but no birds there anyway. The others teams in the semi-finals though, will be the Philadelphia Eagles, the Baltimore Ravens, and the Arizona Cardinals. Or as we like to call them, the Arizona Pyrrhuloxias. (They don't actually have cardinals in Arizona, but the Pyrrhuloxia, which does live there, is a close cousin.)

What the storm hath wrought

We could have used all this rain last spring or summer, but it's still welcome.



Even if last week's storms are going to cause a little extra work. I wish I'd put something in there for scale - this tree was huge. I had to hop up on it to get over.



This ex-Sycamore was definitely dead already.



I think the fish and ducks and flittery little birds would like this a lot, but hubby thinks it needs removing.



Collateral damage... I wish it hadn't taken two live trees with it.



It's amazing how fiercely the Sycamore balls still cling, this time of year.



Except for this one.



Flocks of Cedar Waxwings celebrated the rain. (Click to enlarge.)

Cause and effect

The chain of events:



Early one morning, an otter is caught red-handed, gnawing on a freshly killed grass carp.



Attempts at closer otter photography only serve to scare him away.



Late the same afternoon, a juvenile Bald Eagle shows up, for the first time ever.



He flies over the fish several times,



before roosting nearby.



The next morning he's there again, and appears to be eyeing the fish. Harassed by hawks, he leaves before getting too close to the fish.



Later in the day, the cleanup crew arrives.



Jasmine has issues with them off and on throughout the day.



Black Vultures are more aggressive than Turkey Vultures, and kept their kinder, gentler cousins away from the kill for most of the day. The frustrated TVs performed a lot of posturing.



I presume this means "I'm bad" in vulture language.

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Cast of players:
Northern River Otter (Lontra canadensis), black-hearted fish-stealer
Grass Carp, aka White Amur (Ctenopharyngodon idella), triploid (sterile) pond-saver
Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus), American icon
American Black Vulture (Coragyps atratus), raven-vulture clothed in black as for mourning
Turkey Vulture (Cathartes aura), misunderstood purifying one
Jasmine the Wonder Dog (Canis lupus familiaris), a Great Pyrenees

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American Black Vultures are the ones with white just at the tips of their wings. Turkey Vultures have white all along the bottom underside.

Internet searches agree that Black Vultures are the more aggressive, but seem to say that the wing-spreading is only for warmth. That did not appear to be the case in these birds. It looked more like dominance behavior among the birds who had not been allowed to eat.

Funny sentences I have read lately

"Note that exploding head syndrome is not an example of spontaneous human combustion, nor does it involve the head actually exploding."

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I've been busy getting ready for the first spring craft show (Cottontails), so haven't been out and about much. But I can't believe I forgot to post these pictures from a couple of weeks ago:



You may have to enlarge the picture to see it, but this is actual snow.



It only stuck this much, though.



People in the north probably have no conception of this, but around here, whenever snow is mentioned, you have to also discuss whether or not it will stick. (It usually doesn't.)

In other terribly exciting weather news, it has been raining.


Recent view...


which is better than this...


but still not back to this... which is what we used to call "normal".

We didn't have nearly the number of winter Hooded Merganser visitors that we are used to. But lately there have been quite a few Wood Ducks hanging around. (They're extremely camera-shy though.)

100 year drought

Normal view in fall.


I-wish-it-would-rain view.

Welcome visitor

This is not so much a pond these days, as a grassy mud hole. (This is actually more water than it held a month ago.)



But not everybody thinks this is a bad thing. Look who popped in - a Wilson's Snipe (Gallinago delicata).¹



If the previous picture is the heads-down position, this must be half-mast. And the following is...



Up periscope! Almost looks like a different bird.



I love the way the stripes continue from the head all the way down the back.



He tends to sink in the mud a bit, so you're not always aware...



of the big feet.

He was quite content to have us stare from an open position across the pond. He wasn't shy or wary at all. We didn't try getting any closer though - we're hoping he'll stick around a while.

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¹ I didn't realize until I went to look up the latin name just now, that this bird's name had been changed. The species formerly called the Common Snipe (Gallinago gallinago) has been split, and the one here in the Americas got a new name.

Unfun

Pray.

Keep all your fingers and toes crossed.

Send out all good thoughts to me today.

I'm working on the dreaded taxes.

Recent activities

New bass and catfish were added to the ponds.


If we'd known you were dropping by, we'd have cleaned the bucket.


Looking for a way out.

It's been stormy and has rained a lot.


The wind chimes have already been stored away twice due to tornado warnings.


Watch your step.

Life has been busy, but we always try to find time to sneak away for exploring.


Remains of what was the biggest tree in this area.


I wonder who lives here?


Flower time.

Dry pond

After Hurricane Katrina last August, it did not rain until the first of October. Then it was dry again for a long while. The pond shrank.

It's deeper at the far end than it appears, but I had nightmares of fevered fish rescues... up to our knees in muck, trying to corral flopping fish who couldn't understand the concept of their own salvation.

I had sometimes wished for a little mud edge in the summer, which might prove attractive to migrating shorebirds. But that's a lot of edge, and the shorebirds are long gone.



Before the end of the year, it started raining again... better, but not yet normal. I heard it's supposed to rain all weekend, so maybe that will help.

Of course Jasmine likes it dry, since she can get right up to the edge and bark at fish.



In the background is the tree that fell during a storm. Beavers had gnawed all around the base, so even though it leafed out last summer, I suppose it was only a matter of time before this happened.

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Critters at Friday Ark.

Sunset (with cat)

That cat-shaped lump on the Catalpa tree is Dusty, who's a great climber. Unlike a lot of other cats I've known, she doesn't seem to mind coming down either.

Check out other critters at the Friday Ark.

Father's day

On Father's Day, my niece learned to tell fish stories...



then later caught a big one, once she stole her Dad's fishing rod.



The bream's close-up.



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My Dad died in 1989. I miss him every day.



My Dad, very young. He lied about his age to join the army before WWII. He was probably about 17 in this picture. His father, who played the saxophone, was his Captain.