The Magic Gazebo and a Pair of Northern Flickers

The gazebo, located just a few yards from my door, has some magic.  It's an octagonal screened-in structure on stilts that adjoins the deck leading into the upper level of the house.  Lots of birds are attracted to the shelf that's created by the boards just under the roof, a shelf that is also sheltered by the roof's overhang.  This is where a pair of eastern phoebes nested twice last breeding season.  And recently I've watched eastern bluebirds, titmice, phoebes, goldfinch and a pair of northern flickers disappear into the shadows of the overhang.  

Today it was bitter cold, not the actual temperature which held at around 30 degrees F, but because of the 14 mph bone-chilling wind that zinged right through you.  Even so, I went out with my camera to try to snap an image of a chipping sparrow I spotted on the feeder.  Inevitably, when I have one thing in mind, a half-dozen other things start happening and I am glued to the spot, despite the cold.      

I have been seeing and hearing a pair of flickers for a while, mostly at a distance, seldom close enough to take satisfying images.  I enjoy their communication, that "wicka, wicka, wicka" call that sounds a lot like an exchange of whimpers as they move about the trees staying relatively close to each other.  And back when the weather was warmer, as the day was ending, I would occasionally see a flicker fly up under the eave leaving a tail-brace visible for an instant, then disappear all-together.  I wondered if the gazebo had become a handy roost.

Today, the chipping sparrow pulled me out the door at just the right moment.  A flicker landed on a nearby oak limb.  Thinking he might be headed for the feeder, I froze in place, but it was the gazebo beside me that held his interest instead.  

I always like to think I'm invisible when I'm photographing birds, but I guess not, especially with the camera shudder clicking.  Certainly birds see us, even when we're very still, and from great distances long before we see them.  So Mr. flicker paused to take a peek at me, too, and I was pleased that he continued right on with his exploration.      

Right behind him came his mate, landing on the roof out of sight at first, then dropping down bringing a flurry of snow with her. Don't you just love all that brilliant yellow?!

Recent breeding surveys have shown the northern flicker to be declining.  According to my Atlas of Breeding Birds in TN ed. by Chuck P. Nicholson, northern flickers begin courting in midwinter if they are nonmigratory.  I haven't seen the nuptial displays that are described, but we certainly have a pair here that is investigating sites and foraging together.  They like this gazebo and visited it more than once today.            

My guess is it makes a sheltered roosting spot and a nice place to hang out.  However, it's not unheard of for a flicker to use a human structure for nesting if it has the right height and other characteristics.  Would that be a fun activity to witness!  I might never leave home!  Below, you see the female as she is landing on one of the gazebo side boards.  

I couldn't have been more thrilled to be standing in that spot!

A little later in the day I saw them flying together among the trees in the lower yard.  Once they landed, the male appeared to be foraging and the female sat quietly on a trunk close by.  When the male departed, she moved to the spot where he had been and foraged in the same place. Sweet. And such a privilege for me to witness this series of behaviors, all happening only a few hours apart.  

And that little chippie that enticed me out into the cold?  A sweet ball of fluff with fire on his head (and a tiny bit of snow on his 'nose')!    

To see more of my favorite encounters with woodpeckers, visit Berry Dining Sapsucker Style, Time Out for Woodpeckers, and Who's Boss?  The northern flickers above are referred to as the yellow-shafted variety because of the yellow feather shafts.  You may also enjoy seeing a red-shafted northern flicker that I encountered in New Mexico.  

Linked to Bird Photography Weekly #125 at Birdfreak.com to promote the conservation of our world's birds.

A Cup, A Bird, A Ritual is Born

I didn't realize until yesterday, I've developed a pattern, a kind of ritual that separates the office work week from the days I pursue art and writing. And birds are an integral part of that ritual. In fact, they created it. (click images to enlarge)

It begins with picking up my favorite coffee-filled mug and setting out the bird feeders--a single plate of suet and sunflower seeds, and two hanging feeders. These are positioned on the edge of the patio just outside my door, easy to see, easy to hear birds approaching, easy to pick up my camera and step out the door...even in the brrrrrr cold we're having now.

Yesterday was one of those days. I got lost in it. One minute I was working on something, writing, sketching, making notes...the next, I hear a sound that pulls me out the door, camera in hand. I didn't come back in until I had lost the feeling in my fingers and toes. All I can say is, “the birds did it.”Their behavior and attitudes, their personalities, totally fascinate me. The bobbing of the wren's movements, the rowdy boldness of the titmouse, the king-presence of the mockingbird, the timid, invisible foraging of the sparrows, all so specific to each bird’s lifestyle and habits. Add to that, the delight of having them come so close to me, and I'm captive.

Yes, I'll be getting a bit anthropomorphic here. But it doesn't matter what we call it, it happens. We feed them, they become familiar with us, they come closer. And when this happens, I feel like I've just stepped into a Walt Disney movie.

Deeply focused on photographing a bird, I seldom move anything but the camera shutter, which is true for most photographers. And maybe that’s the key. Birds fly all around me, so close, I feel the wind of their flight against my cheek. Others hop toward me, when I expect the reverse, like this beautiful Chipping Sparrow who presented me with a breath-stopping moment. I knew I was not looking at a familiar sparrow and here he was, hopping right up to the camera, giving me all those cute inquisitive expressions. Were it not for the rowdy titmice, I think he/she would have hopped right up on the suet plate.

I've long practiced being still, from watching a honey bee crawl on my arm as a child to long hours listening to heart-felt stories in my office. Stillness and observation come naturally for me. And maybe that is all that’s required--enduring, predictable, non-intrusive behavior, coupled with the primary attraction of food and water. Aside from a giggle or two and my compulsion to talk to them occasionally, I'm sure the birds think the clicking of my camera shutter is my native language.

Can you interact so closely with birds and not adore them, want to protect them, feel curious about every aspect of their lives and their survival? I can’t. And for those who don’t have time or the inclination, I am happy to show you what they show me—curious faces, distinct personalities, perfectly adapted beaks and feet, an intricate beauty unsurpassed.

And how does my favorite coffee mug fit into all of this? Special memories are grounded in this mug--bird memories. Of Beeman’s Coffee Bar in Port Aransas, Texas, of beautiful endangered Whooping cranes wintering in the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, of a laughing gull that wanted a bite of my cinnamon roll!

Put all together, this makes for a compelling ritual that I am likely to keep. Any favorite birding rituals in your life?

Bird images, top to bottom: 1) Carolina wren, 2) Blue Jay (enlarge image and check out the tuft of feathers covering his/her nare), 3) Tufted Titmouse, 4) Carolina wren, 5 & 6) Chipping Sparrow (new sparrow and yard bird for me), 7 & 8) Northern Mockingbird, 9) White-breasted Nuthatch.

Linked to Bird Photography Weekly #68 at Birdfreak.com to promote the conservation of our world's birds.