Writing from the studio as I watch the snow sift down, lifting the big rig every few minutes or seconds to fire away at jays, robins, sparrows and towhees in the snow, I'm keenly aware of my self-assumed role, shrugged on once again, of Press Agent to a Beloved Animal. I know everyone wants an update, and now! I've got some humans here, me being one of them, who need attention in that odd,
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Snowy Owl Vet Check
I can't describe how it felt to come trotting up to the scene of Vince holding the owl. I'd imagine that touching that owl was like being able to hold a mermaid. The mythical, made real.
As soon as Jesse was ready, though, the examination commenced, a Greek chorus of Vienna WV neighbors watching.
The owl's head swiveled smoothly as he glared at each intruder.
Jesse, momentarily
GOT EEEM!!! Trapping a Snowy Owl
The night before the trapping attempt, I laid out two amulets. One was my snowy owl, the other my Eskimo face. Both are soapstone, one of my favorite substances. I believe both to be powerful. Both were gifts. I'm not sure about the owl pendant's provenance, as I think it was purchased in an Iowa antique shop, but the face was carved by an Inuit woman in 1976, somewhere along Hudson Bay, way up
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To Save a Snowy Owl
I knew that going to see the snowy owl at Grand Central Mall in Vienna, WV, just across the river from us, would change things. When I see wildlife in peril, I have to stop to help. Back in the mid-1980's, I remember walking Long Beach in Stratford, Connecticut, when I was working as a field biologist for The Nature Conservancy's Connecticut Chapter. I came up to a large colony of least
Parkersburg's Snowy Owl
It showed up November 27, 2017, the day I left for Ecuador, perched atop the Lowe's in Marietta, Ohio. I found out as I was driving to Columbus, to leave from the airport the next morning. A snowy owl, in my own home town. Good grief. Oh well. Birding is ever thus, and I would be seeing all kinds of groovy birds in the next ten days. I'd have to miss this one.
Photo taken Dec. 4 2017 by
I'm Back! Where's Jemima?
It's been a week, but I feel like I've just now returned from 12 days away, ten of them spent in the Ecuadorian Andes and foothills. I left on Opening Day of our weeklong gun season for whitetails, so I missed the whole bang-bangy thing. It was very wet and not warm in the Andes, so these frigid Ohio temperatures weren't much of a shock. I had an 18-hour journey home, getting up at 4 AM in
A Ten-Point Messenger
I'm back from 12 days away, 10 of them in Ecuador's Andes. It was the most excellent adventure!!
And all is well at home; both Liam and Jemima survived without me; both boys pitched in to make sure she got fed every day; and I've done nothing since I got back but study and photograph blue jays. It feels great to be back in the saddle again. My suitcase exploded in the living room, and there
Remembering Hannah--Dean's Fork Walk 2
I
looked back down where I'd been and reveled at the stripe of sunlight
still illuminating Hannah's old pasture. That big cut log to the left is
where I saw her last, on my birthday in July, 2016. That image is
burned into my mind. That was a day the animals came to me, too. Three
skunks and Hannah. They know.
There
was nothing like this moment, and it was one of those
Leaving Jemima (She's fine!)
I wrote "The Thing About Jemima" in a long morning session, and by the time I finished it I was in sore need of a long hike. I think of the woods trails as my quickest route to deliverance. There's little that can be wrong with me that six miles won't fix. It's good to have a place to go that makes you feel better. Truth be told, it's probably the walking that saves me as
I'm Having Blue Jay for Thanksgiving
Thank you for the overwhelmingly positive and beautiful response to "The Thing About Jemima." I spend way too much time worrying about reader reaction to this or that revelation that's been bothering me for months or years until I finally up and say something. It was just wonderful to be able to say, "Here's the deal, and here's the kind of reaction I can handle, feeling as I do about it, so
The Morning Stalk
You never know when you're going to have an extraordinary day. I've learned to watch out for the weepy gray days, the ones trying so hard to be ordinary, to pass without notice. November 17, 2017, was just such a day.
While doing my morning wildlife feeding, I noticed a big dark doe walking, all the way out the meadow. Most people say, "Oh, it's only a doe," as if a doe were somehow less a
The Thing About Jemima
Jemima came to me as an 11-day old nestling, dehydrated, starving and very sick. It was three days before she kept her eyes open, and I had to force-feed her a lot. I think she had been jostled out of the nest, and her parents judged her not worth trying to save. Jays are smart. People like me are dumb. We lead with our hearts.
From that period of deprivation, when she went unattended for
Jemima Update: Enter Maybelline
Do you notice blue jays more than you used to? When you see them, do you take the time to really watch them? Is there perhaps more affection and understanding in your gaze than usual?
Good. Jemima and I are doing our job.
While I don't expect Jemima's fans to undergo a full-blown BJO (Blue Jay Obsession) the way I have, a little obsession never hurt anybody. Everywhere I go, and I mean
Remember Pinky?
You'll remember Ellen's twins, Flag and Pinky. Flag, the doe, is a regular in the yard now. I'm delighted to say that Pinky lives on, though he's much more rarely seen.
Here he is on January 7, 2017. Just wee buttons on his fawn forehead. Born in the spring of 2016.
This elegant little fellow tiptoed into the yard on October 5, 2017.
When he raised his head, I knew him.
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Here he is on January 7, 2017. Just wee buttons on his fawn forehead. Born in the spring of 2016.
This elegant little fellow tiptoed into the yard on October 5, 2017.
When he raised his head, I knew him.
Liam is 18!
At eight months, he was spherical, and not always as jolly as he appears here; fussy he was much of the time, thanks to his tiny Eustachian tubes. We eventually got those fixed.
Fussiness aside, there was a sweetness about that baby boy that I could not walk by. I just had to kiss him, every time.
All those kisses added up and soaked in, I think, and the older he got, the sweeter
Remember Flag?
I spend a lot of time looking for and at deer. I am actually happy that Daylight Savings Time has started, because I love raising the blind on something more like this, instead of total darkness.
It's depressing to wake up at 5:30 and have to wait until 7:30 for the first light to creep under the blinds.
So I get up and get busy. People who ask me how I do so much each day probably
The Wren's Pajamas
Every once in awhile, I get sent a photo like these.
What's that little speckled thing in my planter? I only see it at night.
Thanks to Melissa from DC for this adorable conundrum. Zick loves a conundrum.
There are these things that appear on my porch every night. What in the world are they?
Thanks to Sharon from Brunswick for this lovely shot from Maine. A puzzled friend sent
All Halloweeny
There are those days when staying home and trying to write isn't working. The house has been far too quiet lately. Liam's a senior in high school. 'Nuff said.
I didn't realize how much it meant to have another warm living body in the house, whether it was a person or just a sweetly weary dog, his face all silver, his eyes clouded. Now he's gone, too, and sometimes I just have to put some
Angry Chipmunks
His day started out iffy.
A mourning dove came in way too low. A bit unnerving, but he held his ground.
I'm shooting from the studio window, laughing already.
He'd barely gotten his pouches half filled with sunflower hearts and corn when a challenger with a ratty tail arrived and pounced on him. Aaack!!
And the Chipmunk Rumble began.
The two animals became a roiling ball
Release the Goldfinch!
In the two weeks I had the young goldfinch in my studio, she was rarely quiet. She twittered through the day. One of her frequent vocalizations I couldn't recall having heard in the wild. It's the lower-pitched zraayzee call, given a number of times in this video. It's much louder and more emphatic than most of her twitters and twerps.
After hearing it from her, I heard a juvenile give it once,
The Flower Destroyers
Have your zinnias lost their petals on the bedpost
overnight? Have you been finding puddles of brightly colored sepals and
denuded heads, still gaily ringed with the bright yellow “true flowers” in the
center? I sure have. Experience has taught me who dun it.
You have a guilty look on your face, sir.
Wut. I’m just a goldfinch, perched decoratively