Good Morning Barbara & Fellow Nature Adorers,
The other morning I returned to the Fox Park trees, because the day before the trees had been humming with bird rustles and chirps but it was overcast & gloomy. This condition is hideous for me, because everything turns gray and flat. For the world of me, I can’t tell if I am looking at a leaf or a bird unless the bird sits right in front of me. My return was greeted by a sunny bird poor scenery. I decided to leave the bird barren Fox Park and head upstream. There were a few migratory LESSER GOLDFINCHES harvesting the tule seeds and the ground feeding WHITE- and GOLDEN-crowned SPARROWS were out-doing themselves with their hilarious soil-scratch dance, hopping around on their pink translucent legs.
I caught sight of a group of sleeping birds on the river with their heads partially hidden underneath their wings. Their perky tails gave them instantly away as RUDDY DUCKS. They are one of our many winter guest species: a small, diving DUCK, who feeds at night and sleep-floats during the day. They come from the inland of Canada and some prefer to winter in Mexico. The sleepy drifters kept their heads tucked in, but would open one eye, look at me, close their eye again and return to Morpheus arms. The nosey AMERICAN COOTS just had to satisfy their curiosity and swam right into the middle of the clustered newcomers. The RUDDY DUCKS raised their heads, stared intently at the white beaked intruders, who realized they were not welcome and quickly rowed away. Then I focused on the trees, but they weren’t hosting any birds. Later on I told my birding friend about this experience and he said that his fall walks are filled with bird feast or famine presence. Have you encountered that same ‘Where are they?” sensation?
My long time friend visited me and I schlepped her to the river outlook on Thursday, because I wanted to check on the old river mouth where the day before a bulldozer had moved sand to the side. We saw a real narrow berm that begged to be breached. And indeed: when we returned on Friday the river was drained. Together we stared at the changed scenery, the HEERMANN’S gulls and wondered what had happened.
A few days later I found out what had happened from a river compadres: Friday morning the berm was a sliver and a group of people discussed how easy it would be to breach it. A surfer couldn’t take the temptation any longer, went down to the river mouth, dug a channel with his hands through the thin berm, the water couldn’t resist the offer to flow and thus the river was drained…Now this part stunned me: supposedly a City employee left when the surfer started digging, because he couldn’t watch it and nobody reported the illegal, broad daylight breaching.
Last week was just stuffed with campaign buzz and frenzy as you well know. I admire your élan, vim and vigor that you apply to the causes and candidates, dear and important to your heart and soul. In our current political situation voting is a necessity to save our moral sanity, the environment and a balanced future. Thank haven I can go to the river and visit that old time friend, who gifts me zany surprises and links me back into the present moment. I slip off the ‘worrying coat, slip on the ‘observation cap’ and smile once again at the Bufflehead’s quirky landing.
And now I am off to VOTE! and wishing birds could VOTE too… jane