More Birds and a Bear

We said it before and can say it again - this must be the year of the bird. Several new avian episodes must be reported, and one sad demise. Let's get that one out of the way.

We have three cylindrical seed dispensing feeders that all hang from one central metal post, each on a separate arm. The feeder is under a young maple located 20 - 30 feet from the house, in the hope that while it's close enough to be able to watch the action, that the main flight paths will be clear of the house. However, this latter hope has proven not to be. Our house is only 24 feet wide and there are large windows on either side, so it looks  like there's a clear shot through to the average bird brain. Window? What's a windo---Crash!

Last year, after several heart-breaking (or, from the birds' viewpoint, neck-breaking) fatalities in a row, I hung a series of bird-diverting old CDs from string attached just under the eaves. This has worked wonders - until this spring, and either the birds are acclimated to the CDs or don't believe in their scariness or something, but impacts have increased once again. I'm open to remedial suggestions.

Yesterday, I heard a small thump, and being accustomed to gauging the severity of the impact by its sound level, judged that it was a non-fatal hit. Later, though, we discovered the body of a young female rufus hummingbird just below the glass door. No CDs hang there. The tiny bird must have hit at pretty high speed to have made any sound at all.

I have always been astonished at the miniature size of the hummingbirds. To hold that small body and see the exquisite detail of coloration and form was moving. She didn't weigh much more than a cicada. The legs are smaller in diameter than grass stems, and each contain tiny veins, arteries, little bitty muscles, and networks of nerves as well as the delicate, hollow bones. So small, so perfect, and now so dead.

The wing feathers interlock to create a more air-resistant surface, and yet are translucent due to their thinness. I put my finger behind it to show how one can see right through. 

Let's all take a moment of silence for her, and for all the wee birdies that die every day every year against human windows.

Since I started writing this, two different evening grosbeaks have hit the dining room window, and neither died. We have stopped feeding the birds. In addition to the injuries and fatalities, the little ingrates have been shredding our garden plant sets. Today I discovered that new brocolli plants had had delicate leaves just snipped off, allowed to fall, not even eaten.

Other bird lore: I watched a crow chasing a hawk and as they neared the tops of the cottonwood trees, the hawk did a roll and presented its talons - upside down, mid-air! The crow immediately fled.

There is a young hawk who makes a bunch of noise as it flies, probably to let Mom know where it is. Last Friday, it landed in the top of a fir tree above the barn, and the adult hawk flew up to it, but did not land, dangling a snake in its talons. It seemed to be enticing the youngster to follow, and eventually it did, the two spiraling quite high before heading off.

On yet another occasion of dog ball throwing, Charlie had completely lost his blue ball and I was trying to help. We were down in the portion of the lawn near the creek, and the male bald eagle flew up-creek, using Mosby as its flyway. It was maybe 20 yards away and I could see it more clearly than I had ever seen one in the wild before - white head, steely eye, white tail. Very awesome.

And for our final story, one morning at 4 am, Charlie was barking like crazy. Usually when he gets worked up about some nocturnal event, we turn on the back light and he happily trots in to sleep in the bathroom. In fact, sometimes I suspect that he goes into the barking act just to wrangle a night inside. This time was quite different. When I turned on the light, he did come, but he kept at a distance, continued barking and springing around, and then went charging off again.  Mike succeeded in making him cease and desist. Now we recognize that he was yelling, "Code Red!" The next morning, Mike awoke to find that the birdfeeder was bent to the ground, all the hanging seed cylinders were stripped off their arms, and the one that would not open easily had massive teeth-made holes.

One neighbor up our back hill has had his beehive marauded by a bear, and another neighbor's shed door was ripped off by - probably - the same bear in order to access their trash. I called Fish and Wildlife and spoke to a biologist who was very enlightening. He says that this cool wet spring we're having has kept the normal bear fare from ripening - the wild strawberries and thimbleberries, etc. Bears subsist on grass and ferns until these come in, but don't really get much nourishment from the greens and start looking for grubs and insect hives to supplement some protein. Or, as our resourceful local bear has done, start moving into human environments to check out the potential.

Yet another reason to cease feeding the birds - which was the biologist's recommendation, saying that they don't need it any longer. I'll miss all the shows and the cheerful racket, but can do without the drama.