I’ve shared pictures of the view from my apartment windows. Sunsets, clouds, the pond, all new and exciting. Recently, I’ve been blessed with sounds and views of what I consider special birds visiting the pond outside my windows.
Within the last two weeks I have spied the following:
Some of these have been easy to see while others I identified by sound, and later spied, with the aid of the Merlin app by CornellLab, from the Ornithology Department of Cornell University, on my phone. It’s a great tool with amazing “hearing” to identify bird species by listening to their various calls. It also allows one to identify by description, and save documentation of where and when the birds are identified. It is available at The Apple Store and Google Play. I highly recommend it.
I heard a new sound while on my balcony about a week ago and thought I eyed a couple familiar birds. I quickly pulled out the Merlin app to listen and confirm what I thought I knew. There were two Belted King Fishers flitting among the branches of the big dead tree. They seemed to be playing games, taking off and returning to different branches. What fun!
September first I thought I saw more Double-crested Cormorants, but they did not sound the same. Again, Merlin confirmed by sound what I thought I saw through my scope. A pair of Green Herons were in the same tree. This is in deed a popular perch for many different bird species.
I was able to get some pics of two of the larger birds listed above, the Great Blue Heron and the American While Pelican. I have at least mentioned both of these huge birds in prior posts. This week I want to share the view from my balcony and/or windows.
First, and most often seen, is the Great Blue Heron. These beauties never cease to amaze me, whether taking off, in flight, or landing. Their majesty enthralls me as they stand motionless near the water’s shore or slowly walk, stalking their prey of small fish and frogs. Here is a shot taken on September 3rd.
This guy has graced the pond many times, sometimes swooping into a dead tree just as dark descends. Other times I find him perching, neck tucked (as in this photo) or extended, in the morning as it hunts for its breakfast. Last week it was accompanied by two younger versions tentatively entering the water, appearing to mimic their parent.
Tuesday of this week (09/17/2024) I opened the shade just as I got out of bed, to find this beauty slowly wading along the shoreline, gobbling who knows what along the way. He made a couple tours around the pond, providing ample opportunity to see one of my favorite birds acting natural in ways I’ve never witnessed before.
Huge bird. Huge Wingspan.
The attack!
The capture.
Looks satisfied, doesn’t it?!
My former home was across the street from a pond. There were many water fowl there, the most exciting being an Osprey. Now I live in a place actually overlooking a more natural, mature pond. There are Osprey here too. But I had little expectation that I would be so entertained by the variety of birds I get to witness on a daily basis. All this in addition to turtles, ducks, and surfacing fish! I await what Autumn and Winter wonders I will see!
Traveling back and forth between central and eastern Iowa so many times this last month (moving to and from) has provided me with ample opportunities to enjoy the magnificence of its Summer landscape, various farm crops and animals, and wildlife. Rolling on a hybrid of four-lane and two-lane highways brings me closer to nature than does the interstate system, while getting me to my destinations in a reasonable amount of time.
I was accompanied this past Tuesday by Ben, my son’s stepson, for company and assistance in packing and transporting some of my belongings. As a tall, strong thirteen-year-old, I knew he could handle laborious and heavy tasks that I either could not or did not want to tackle by myself.
A huge brown owl provided our first surprise entertainment when we had to backtrack to help out my son’s being stranded at a car rental store. It launched itself from a large tree just right of the two-lane, flying directly overhead as it crossed the road. Magnificent! I rarely see owls, even while hiking in the woods. They blend in so well and perch so still as they survey the forest floors for the many rodents that scurry through the undergrowth, brush and fallen leaves. What a sight to see with wings extended in full regale!
Having crossed over the Iowa River at Coralville Reservoir several times over the past few weeks, I was aware that this is the time of year for the late summer pelican migration. There is an Audubon outlook on the north side of the lake, on the road to East Amana, with plaques that describe these huge, majestic, white and black wetlands birds, and their migration patterns. If you are reading this and in the area, Sunday is the Annual Pelican Festival that takes place at the outlook.
On Tuesday, as Ben and I were crossing over the reservoir area, I began to describe the festival when we spotted between 50 and 100 birds at water’s edge, while some flew low and slow as they glided in for their landings. And if you have ever seen a pelican squadron soaring high above the earth, you know how they shimmer white, then disappear against an azure blue sky, only to reemerge as the entire squadron changes direction, white wings fully extended and synchronized, reflecting the light of the sun. It is truly an amazing sight in nature.
Now fully loaded with boxes and totes, we backtracked our route to central Iowa. A very routine drive is interrupted only by a five mile stretch of two-lane on a four-lane highway under construction, and the periodic threat of rain or storms that typically build out of the west.
This day was different. Not far from where Mr. Owl surprised and excited us several hours earlier, a Red Tail Hawk flew just above car level and across the road in front of us pouncing on an unsuspecting rodent in the median just to my left. If you’ve ever witnessed such an event, you know how the hawk appears to revel in its victory and upcoming tasty feast – unless it is saved for its young in a nest perched somewhere in a dead or dying tree.
Birds, and particularly birds of prey, are a highlight of any day during which I have the blessing of witnessing them soaring, hovering, and hunting. The majesty of pelicans, cranes, and herons exemplify the wonder of regal flight. The kind of flight I have only dreamed of, mastering the breezes, pondering our magnificent world below. I can hardly wait for my next magnificent bird adventure.
My trip to Nebraska was both rewarding and painful. I hope to expound on the rewards, but can’t help mixing in some pain. My planned route included stops at two lunch spots that I had seen on Only In Iowa, and designed to avoid any major highways.
First, I must say that Friday was an interesting and ultimately difficult day. I was packed and ready to go by noon. and considered taking off early, but didn’t know where to to. I kept busy outside all day which was good. But the evening relaxation turned into a major letdown that further exhausted me mentally, adding to the physical tiredness.
A ray (or rays) of hope on Friday evening
Waking early Saturday I left before I’d planned. That was good because it was a five-hour drive to Malvern, Iowa and Classic Cafe. I found the downtown area to be bustling with quant businesses, pedestrians, bikes, and cars. I could have spent more time there if I hadn’t another place to be that afternoon.
Classic Cafe was excellent. With decor epitomizing small town downtown cafes, It was comfortable with “Please sit anywhere” and welcoming friendly staff. The main special this day was Hot Beef Open Faced Sandwich. Not my favorite fare. But I jumped when the server mentioned Made Rites. One of Pam’s favorites, we used to seek out places that had both Made Rites and good pork tenderloin sandwiches. Accompanied with sweet potato fries and iced tea, my hunger was soon satisfied. If you are ever in the area, I highly recommend it.
The lengthy morning trek, enjoying the wandering state and county roads (mostly IA 92) of southern Iowa, left me less than two hours of yet more pleasurable travel to Leid Lodge at Arbor Day Farm. I had not been there in over 30 years when I stayed while consulting at Cooper Nuclear Power Plant. There on business, I never got the opportunity to enjoy the many interesting features at Arbor Day Farm. Taking Pam there to share what I thought would be a fun and enjoyable venue was on my bucket list. But we never made it there. I thought it fitting that I return now as part of my journey to Pam’s bridge.
Leid Lodge and Arbor Day Farm did not disappoint. A Baltimore Oriole greeted me as I walked toward the entrance from my car. The lodge reminds me of some in and around the mountains out west. Its timber construction, vaulted ceilings and glass walls are augmented by the use of recycled materials that finish the room decor, such as carpet made of recycled plastics.
I walked about five miles along wooded pathways and apple and nut orchards around the perimeter of the grounds. There are interactive displays in hundred-year-old farm buildings, a Tree Adventure ideal for family excursion, and a really neat shop, Apple House Market, where I spent more than I probably should have on honey, popcorn, candy, and a sweatshirt that colorfully says “Plant Trees.” There are many other facilities and activities there to enjoy.
Having made reservations, as recommended, at Timbers in Leid Lodge, I chose to sit on the deck overlooking treed grounds. I enjoyed an excellent meal of Prime Rib, homestyle mashed potatoes, and asparagus, with a glass of Cabernet. This was actually the third point at which I really felt Pam’s absence, the first two being while strolling in the woods. The second, while shopping. She would have really loved this place. Her joy would only enhance my experience.
Views from my table
I played my guitar on the stone terrace behind the lodge where more than a few people, especially with children, stopped to listen and offer their thanks. Cool. Having a fourth floor room facing the orchards, I hoped for a glimpse of the Northern Lights anticipated that evening. But they did not manifest. I slept well.
On the road before eight on Sunday morning, headed for the bridge. It was appropriately gloomy and I could see rain shafts in the distance toward Creston NE from the open road. Sullen anticipation enveloped me. About a 2-1/2 hour drive, I arrived by 10:30.
It was cool and breezy at Pam’s bridge, with intermittent light rain. Also appropriate. Avoiding too much detail about my time there, my lasting images are of dropping yellow daisy flowers over the guard rail while reconnecting with my sorrow, loneliness, guilt, and just trying to connect with Pam. And being on my knees, grasping the guard rail while screaming in agony as the pain overtook me. I spent quite a while there. I didn’t want to leave, but knew I would eventually have to.
Heading east again toward Ankeny, I had another lunch stop to make in Beebeetown Iowa, truly a “don’t sneeze or you’ll miss it town”, to a place called Twisted Tail Steakhouse and Saloon. Also recommended by Only In Iowa, it looked like a fun place to visit and enjoy another good meal along my route. Talking with a sister while on my way, I suggested that it might be the only restaurant in town and busy, being Mothers Day. No kidding. Look at the map on the link. Beebeetown is literally a on stop sign town. Twisted Tail was the only business I could see there. And it was packed!!! Cars parked up and down the street. People standing in line outside, decked in their Sunday best or Mothers Day finest – whatever. I moved on, grabbing a wrap sandwich in a convenience store and eating on the road. I’ll have to consider going back to Beebeetown another time.
of a sudden, in the hills about a mile west of Harlan, I crossed the path of the recent tornado. Mangled trees and missing roofs, silos, and damaged barns. There was a concrete slab on the side of the road. It was once covered by a house. All that remains is the slab and the entrance to a storm cellar, doors in tact. I hope the inhabitants of the house were in there!
On to Ankeny where I visited family and stayed over. It was a good plan. I was totally exhausted from two days on the road and emotionally spent from my experience. I did sleep well, though, and my leisurely trip back home Monday morning was pleasant and relaxing. Ah, the back roads!
This week has been filled with to do’s, and overarching feelings of sorrow and self pity. As of writing this yesterday (Friday), I am coming out of the funk and remembering that I must go on, remembering and honoring the past, while striving for a quality-of-life future. Remembering the rainbow.
Though all of my menagerie of feathered friends take to flight at the slightest movement or sound (except maybe the robins), departing sparrows are most noticeable simply due to their numbers. I had not recognized until this week that they make a collective sound as they depart from the bushes and ground just outside my living room window. I suppose my hearing devices pick up the whoosh better than with just my unaided hearing, but I was taken aback when I realized the soft sound was associated with their flight. Now I notice it all the time. Fun!
Goldfinches
American Goldfinches are hereby added to the menagerie. They are less noticeable in the winter when the males lose their golden color and thus blend in with the sparrows and other finches. But I was able to recognize them in the birch tree, feeding on its seed pods as they dangle, totally exposed, from the leafless branches.
Goldfinches are a treat, both visually and acoustically. Our neighborhood includes many echinacea plantings that produce a thistle-like seed pod at the center of their flowers – a favorite of the goldfinch. Goldfinches stay here the year round and I do enjoy their songs. You can listen by clicking the link above.
More On Bluebirds
One more note regarding bluebirds. Last week’s post instilled in me a desire to set My Little Bluebird to music. I listened to their songs on the link included previously and am attempting to emulate and include them, currently with chord progressions that I hope to put with the words. I’m thinking it’s going to take some massaging of the verse to make it work, but I look forward to creating something new and meaningful.
What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.
Book of Ecclesiastes, New Revised Standard Version
I think of this verse often as I ponder what to write to you about each week. I am self-aware enough to realize that my musings are simply different ways of expressing the same thoughts and feelings, observations and sensations, that humans, and maybe other animals and plants, have experienced since time began. I am self-centered and bold enough to express them anyway!
The wisdom in this verse also applies, and I think of this often also, to what’s going on in the world around us. I remember, many years ago (like back in the ’60s and ’70s) trying to impress upon my dad the tenuous times we were in. He would always respond that all which I mentioned, wars, floods, earthquakes, climate change, etc. have been with mankind since the beginning. It does not portend the end of the world.
Fifty plus years later, I think I understand and accept that he was right. Unfortunately, just because it’s nothing new, nor does our current global “situation” necessarily mean the end of mankind, nor that it has all happened before and the deeds being done repeat previous mistakes, make it easier to accept and deal with individually or collectively. When will we ever learn?! (scroll down to listen)
After one of the harshest beginnings to a new year, with record-breaking snow totals, January appears to be going out like a lamb here in eastern Iowa. I listened to the snowmelt dripping from the downspout each time I woke last night. I’m sure I’ll hear it again tonight as there is still plenty of snow on the roof and temperatures are predicted to remain above freezing. Additionally, we have a 100% chance of rain later today and into the night (Thursday). Rain! In January!
Add to that the dense fog that lingers all day as the humidity level stays nearly equal to the ambient temperature, a result of the melting snow. Sure beats sub-zero cold! Hopefully, February will take the hint and keep up the “nice” weather.
Still, cabin fever is setting in. But with daytime temperatures in the 30’s and maybe even 40’s next week, I am braving the weather for some outside walks. The brisk air is refreshing and still preferable to inside exercise.
The combination of cabin fever and temperate weather give me incentive to plan for travels again. Thus, I have a plan for the time around the second anniversary of Pam’s passing. Another trip to “her” bridge. Last year’s adventure was just that. You may recall I had to abandon my camping trip due to severe weather. This year, no camping. Rather I plan to visit other places along the way that I have wanted to return to.
Another trip south to visit my family, especially my Mother, around Atlanta is also in the works. Hopefully, this will become another adventure including new destinations along the way. I am also planning a special trip to celebrate a milestone birthday somewhere I can camp and hike. I’m looking into going east instead of west. No decisions yet.
January thaws are nothing new either. I am, however, happy to be looking forward to spring and summer. Happy to think of successfully making it through a second winter alone. Barring any unforeseen calamities, it appears that I will. And this winter will have been a much better one than its predecessor.
May the rest of your winter be healthy and hopeful.
A pair of Cardinals has been nesting somewhere nearby for several years now. They mate for life. They warm my heart for several reasons. They are beautiful, regal birds. The male’s bright red color, complete with pointed tuft, exudes confidence and power. He is first to the cardinal feeder, approaching cautiously, peering out from one of the surrounding trees before swooping out to perch on the tray filled with Safflower. The Mrs., though less conspicuously brown with red highlights, matches her mate in majesty with the same tufted head and powerful profile.
When I wake early enough, I see them in the dawning light, half hiding as in shadow so as not to be seen and somehow in danger. Always cautious, the slightest movement, either from the outside, or if I am seen through my window, puts them to flight. They repeat the pattern at dusk. I find myself keeping open my blinds in hopes of catching a glimpse in the fading light after sunset. Sometimes, and it seems especially on these cold, snowy days, they come out during the day. Mr. Cardinal prefers the feeder, Mrs. Cardinal, the ground (or snow currently) where seeds have been kicked off the feeder ledge, mostly by the many messy sparrows that ‘grace’ our feeders every day – all day.
Mr. C. at Sunset
Pam’s Mother loved cardinals. Thus, do her children and grandchildren. One of them gave us a Metalbird tree ornament that now protrudes from the Birch tree outside my living room window near the feeders. Since her passing several years ago, the prevailing thought is that somehow the presence of a cardinal indicates her spirit visiting among us, usually at times of want or need. I don’t know about that, but they are no less a reminder of our loved ones (I now include Pam) whenever they appear. That is special!
Cardinals are by no means the only birds to visit the feeders my neighbor and I have hanging on shepherd’s hooks between our houses. Most numerous and pesky are the sparrows. I’ve counted upwards of forty fluttering balls of brown and white feverishly attacking every type of feeder and the spillage on the ground around them. They remind me of coots on a lake swimming along the shore in hoards, hoping for some tasty marine morsels. Or bluegill in a pond, lurking along the edges and milling just under the surface in the deeps, always hungry; ready to snatch the bait or tied flies I cast in hopes of bass or trout.
Fewer in number, and not quite as pesky, are the house finches. Their size and shape are similar to sparrows. But their colorings make me think that at some point there must have been some hanky panky between some cardinals and sparrows. I like them, though, I guess for their colorings as much as anything.
Chickadees are so much fun. They flit about like cardinals, always cautious, always aware. Often arriving in pairs, they first settle in the trees then dart over to the cardinal feeder, take one seed, then return to a branch, pecking at it between their toes to break the shell and enjoy the meat inside. Then off again to the feeder and back. But never returning to the same branch. Their lighthearted appearance lifts mine as I watch.
I also like the juncos. They are typically ground feeders that seem to be around more in the winter months. They are easy to spot against the snowy blanket and dine on the buffet created by sparrows spilling their fare from the feeders above.
Many years ago, in another town, outside another window, I had two woodpecker feeders among several others. I delighted in attracting several species from downy and hairy, to flickers and pileated. Once in a great while a true red-headed woodpecker would grace me with its presence. So far, since hanging the feeder here, my only patron has been the downy. But I keep hoping.
Just recently, a pair of blue jays found their way back to the area after a very long absence. Though they are bullies, they are beautiful so I like seeing them around.
There are many other birds I listen and look for when I am walking through the woods or along the waterways. Of course the eagles and hawks enthrall me still. But now the one I wish most to see is the Bluebird. They are somewhat rare around here, migrating from the south to breed. I’ve always enjoyed seeing their bright blue plumage. Now this species means so much more to me. The bluebird on my mantel reminds me also of the beauty of the person I once knew as my wife. This could be the makings of a song (or at least a poem). Oh, wait. It already is.
My Little Bluebird
Born of a Cardinal and a stone
She never wanted to be alone
Much too soon she flew away
The world will never be the same
She was my little Bluebird
My little Bluebird You flew away
Could you not stay for another day
With broken wing and a heart of gold
We never had the chance to grow old
A lovely bird kept my feet on the ground
Her arms around me, so comfortably bound
As one together, yet free to be
Our love of each other let us see
She was my little Bluebird
My little Bluebird you flew away
Could you not stay for another day
With broken wing and a heart of gold
We never had the chance to grow old
Now you live on in my heart and mind
A new life I now must find
Without you I feel so alone
But for you I will make it on my own
You are my little BluebirdMy little Bluebird You flew away
Could you not stay for another day
With broken wing and a heart of gold
We never had the chance to grow old
You gave my life meaning
Yet we didn’t understand
Why you were losing yours
Why am I keeping mine?
I go on for you my little Bluebird
My little Bluebird You flew away
Could you not stay for another day
With broken wing and a heart of gold
We never had the chance to grow old
(c)
You know, I really do want and hope that you, the readers of this blog, gain something positive from the reading. I write about what’s happening with me, but my hope is that you can somehow internalize the words as reflecting your sorrows, griefs, loves, successes, hopes, and dreams. This week’s post is no different, unless you can relate to its being more positive, well, than at least the last one. Two experiences highlight my week, and both are positive.
The spoiler (the poem) is at the end. The second experience took place on Thursday. I was at a local music store picking up some equipment when Thaddeus mentioned that they were holding an open mic session in the recital room that evening. Thaddeus, who hosts, said he’s been struggling with turnout. “Please come play.” It would just be, hopefully, two or three musicians. I quickly realized it was time to put up or shut up. I agreed to come back that evening.
And so it appeared to be – at first. Then people kept arriving. A total of seven musicians performed, of which I was the third; five singer song writers and two pianists. There were also nearly a dozen others in the audience.
My heart began pounding as Thaddeus started things off. Probably the most polished of all of us, he played four original songs. In fact, all five guitarists played original music. By the time Joe finished his five originals, I knew I was next up. Though I felt that I at least belonged there, my stress level was high.
I played five songs beginning with Anything to Please (not yet recorded), Chameleon, Heart of Logic, Tell Elizabeth I Love Her, and The Song I Never Wrote For You. All were received well and applauded. And though I made several mistakes, some obvious, I was clearly in an empathetic crowd. After all was done, several people came up to me with appreciation for my playing and my songwriting skills.
I did it! I played in public in front of people I don’t know. It has begun. I am fulfilling a commitment I made to Pam (posthumously) and to myself, to step out into a new life that includes sharing myself, and in a way Pam, with – the world?
As you might imagine, I was pretty stoked when I got home. A nice Spring evening. I opened a can of beer and walked around the pond. It was then that my emotions caught up with me and, of course, I began to cry (as I am while writing this). Pam was not with me to share the dream. That coupled with the realization that I was actually going on with a new, still unfamiliar and uncomfortable life. And Pam would approve. Such a melancholy gift. Yet I have to move forward with my heart still in the past, hoping for a future that honors her life – and mine.
Last Tuesday I began my day in contemplation, as usual, staring out the window at the birds flitting around the feeders, and suddenly this popped into my head. I had to write it down immediately in the journal I keep by my chair. I rather like it. I like its positivity. So here it is:
Flitting Birds Branches Rustling Sweetly Singing
Towering Trees Skyward Reaching Gently Swaying
Flowers Panning Pedals Unfolding To Heaven Praying
I always wanted to fly. Not on a jet, or in a plane, but literally fly. I don’t like flying on commercial airlines. So much is out of my control. I would settle for attaching wings to my arms or something like that. But I think it’s more about the freedom of being on my own and defying gravity.
I used to dream I was flying, maybe 50 feet off the ground. Typically, it was over meadows surrounded by trees. Always Summer, always green. Not over farm fields, but surely could be in rural Iowa, over tall grasses, swaying in the breeze. Often, I would wake up when I realized, in my dream, that I couldn’t really fly, and began plummeting to the ground.
Birds have fascinated me for many years. I had several bird feeders in the back yard where we used to live, strategically located outside my office window so I could watch for the rare breeds. In addition to the “normal” species like Sparrows, Chickadees, Finches, and Cardinals, the feeders attracted several kinds of Woodpeckers, as well as Wrens, Warblers, and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks.
But the really rare birds were the most fun. Most were migratory, with only a few days during Spring and Autumn when there was even a chance they would stop for fuel in our back yard. The Indigo Bunting thrilled me in May of 2004 and again in 2006. It looks like a Blue Bird, but larger and with more intense color. The Scarlet Tanager was probably the rarest, most exciting vision of all. It’s brilliant red body and head are punctuated by jet black wings and tail. OMG!
My go to book for identifying species is Birds of Iowa Field Guide by Stan Tekiela. Every colored tab shown above is a different kind of bird I viewed from the comfort of home! The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds, Western Region, is another excellent reference for bird identification – if, of course, you live in the Western Region. It has in depth descriptions, native regions and migratory patterns that accompany the photography.
Here is a list of many of the birds I viewed in Northern Iowa over a decade in the early 2000’s:
Enjoying free birds continues where I live now. My next door neighbor put out some feeders a few years ago, attracting some of the species I used to see before. They also attract the birds to the bird bath I’ve had in front of the house for many years. I keep it heated in the winter so the “snow birds” can continue to drink and frolic in the water. It works out well. My neighbor gets the mess and I get to watch. I am considering adding safflower and suet feeders at my house to feed the nesting pair of cardinals and attract woodpeckers, of which I have only seen a few.
Pam’s Mother loved Cardinals. She had Cardinal ornaments, jewelry, and photographs. Her children and grandchildren love seeing them in various forms from paper to in the wild. Pam’s brother, Randy, gifted us a Metalbird Cardinal that is spiked to nail into a tree, in honor of their Mother. It is attached to the Birch tree outside the living room window from which I also watch the bird feeders.
One of Pam’s daughters selected a Bluebird urn to keep some of her Mother’s ashes. I liked it so much that I got one for myself. It’s actually called Songbird. It is different in breed from the Cardinal, yet is consistent with lives being associated with, and represented by birds. We think of birds as being free. Probably because they have something many of us wish for – freedom of flight.
