At the Milwaukee County Zoo yesterday.
Seen
Category Archives: birds
Self-conscious
Portrait Bust of a Woman; Mid-2nd century, Roman.
My photo, taken at the Art Institute of Chicago.
Women beyond a certain age are largely unseen, I know, but beneath that cloak of invisibility, I have been self-conscious about my appearance for several months. My husband and daughters have assured and reassured me that all is well, but I didn’t begin to believe it until yesterday, when the surgeon smilingly beheld her work and declared that I am healing much more quickly (and much less traumatically) than most can expect; more, I will look as if much of this had never happened — and soon.
Since late August, it has sometimes felt as if my calendar comprised only medical appointments followed by return visits coupled with lab work accompanied by consultations, as if my days demanded many, too many, health-related accommodations. This is a drama-filled and -fueled interpretation of what were largely commonplace issues associated with aging, and when I couldn’t talk (or shame) myself out of feeling sorry for me, I walked. It helped (even when it hurt — hence, the orthopedist, the orthotics) — as did reading, finding the Jerry Orbach seasons of Law & Order on Hulu, looking at art, and listening to music, including pop treasures like this.
Today through rain-streaked windows, I can see wet-feathered birds visiting our feeders while I, dry and warm in my favorite chair, read from a stack that includes Shakespeare’s Henry V and The Tempest and Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. And according to the forecast, I should be able to walk for a bit before class tonight. I’ll wear my cloak of invisibility with confidence.
Delight
The sandhill cranes are returning; they soared overhead on my walks yesterday and today. Sun and warmer temperatures. Some new books, purchases and gifts.
The year of the American robin
The photo above was taken at the Detroit Zoo in April 2022,
and this entry was adapted from previously published posts.
In her paean to birding, Rare Encounters with Ordinary Birds, Lyanda Lynn Haupt writes:
There is a game birders play on New Year’s Day called “Bird of the Year.” The very first bird you see on the first day of the new year is your theme bird for the next 365 days. It might seem a curious custom, but people who watch birds regularly are always contriving ways to keep themselves interested. This is one of those ways. You are given the possibility of creating something extraordinary — a Year of the Osprey, Year of the Pileated Woodpecker, Year of the Trumpeter Swan. This game is an inspiration to place yourself in natural circumstances that will yield a heavenly bird, blessing your year, your perspective, your imagination, your spirit. New year, new bird.
Our family has played this game for so long that we now rework the rules a bit each year rather than risk getting the same birds again and again. And again. This year, as in the last two, I chose the first bird I espied on our first walk of the new year: Yesterday, as we neared the creek where we play Pooh Cones, I beheld a tiny tree in which at least eight American robins were flitting.
Remarkable
Seen at the Herb and Nada Mahler Family Aviary at the Milwaukee County Zoo.
Bird of the Year
This entry was adapted from previously published posts.
In her paean to birding, Rare Encounters with Ordinary Birds, Lyanda Lynn Haupt writes:
There is a game birders play on New Year’s Day called “Bird of the Year.” The very first bird you see on the first day of the new year is your theme bird for the next 365 days. It might seem a curious custom, but people who watch birds regularly are always contriving ways to keep themselves interested. This is one of those ways. You are given the possibility of creating something extraordinary — a Year of the Osprey, Year of the Pileated Woodpecker, Year of the Trumpeter Swan. This game is an inspiration to place yourself in natural circumstances that will yield a heavenly bird, blessing your year, your perspective, your imagination, your spirit. New year, new bird.
Our family has played this game long enough that we needed to rework the rules a bit or risk getting the same birds again and again. And again. This year, as last year, I chose the first bird I espied on our first walk of the new year. Imagine my delight when a crow called to me.
Spring
Seen while walking.
Hawkish
In the spring and summer months, we hang the hummingbird feeder from this hook outside the living room window.
Bird of the year
This entry was adapted from previously published posts.
In her paean to birding, Rare Encounters with Ordinary Birds, Lyanda Lynn Haupt writes:
There is a game birders play on New Year’s Day called “Bird of the Year.” The very first bird you see on the first day of the new year is your theme bird for the next 365 days. It might seem a curious custom, but people who watch birds regularly are always contriving ways to keep themselves interested. This is one of those ways. You are given the possibility of creating something extraordinary — a Year of the Osprey, Year of the Pileated Woodpecker, Year of the Trumpeter Swan. This game is an inspiration to place yourself in natural circumstances that will yield a heavenly bird, blessing your year, your perspective, your imagination, your spirit. New year, new bird.
Our family has played this game long enough that we needed to rework the rules a bit or risk getting the same birds again and again. And again. This year, my husband and I decided to choose the first birds we espied on our first walk of the new year. He has embraced a Year of the Canada Goose. And I? Imagine my delight when a red-tailed hawk flew across my path.
Abandoned
An oriole’s nest.
Nerdishly 