MyStory: I did NOT see a Broadwing

In an earlier post, I described my stalking of a juvenile Broadwing Hawk.  I wanted to see one so badly…but around here in northeastern Pennsylvania, late August and early September is Broadwing migration season, where huge kettles can form over mountain slopes as the hawks catch airstreams south.  So watching this singular young’un day after day circle with a stick in its talon or perching on a play set kree kree kreee-ing didn’t match seasonal behaviors.

My curiosity, and birder integrity, demanded that I reexamine my ID.

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I do affirm that I have been listening and watching a juvenile raptor.  But that belly band and the striped tail are indicative of a young Red-Tailed Hawk.

Lesson learned.

The next time I think I have an unusual spotting, I will ask myself “why is it NOT a Red-Tailed Hawk” instead of the brain freezing question “WHAT IS IT?”

 

Wisdom Wednesday: 100>99

Within the last week I read an article about commitment, or rather keeping a commitment.  In sum, the author stated that it is easier to practice your craft or hone your skill, develop new habits and deepen your spiritual practice if you commit 100%.  No creeping “well, just this once I won’t take my binoculars” or “I’ll get to the writing tomorrow.”

So I am committed to this experiment.  If I write every day on this blog or on my work-in-progress Shared Legacy narrative (more on that later), no excuses, will the writer’s block melt?  If I take my binoculars or camera everywhere I go, will I  spend at least a few minutes mindfully every day?  And if I write and deeply look at my world, will I find myself energized and engaged?

What have you, dear reader, decided to commit 100% to?  What tricks did you develop to hold yourself accountable?

 

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Birding by kayak, with camera AND binoculars. Not seen in this shot, the Great Blue Heron fishing off to my right.  Later on I watched a Green Heron play hopscotch on bank-roots.

MyStory: Birding is the only good reason to garden

 

Edited to reflect reality…*

Yesterday I tried to get super close to a bigger-than-a-crow hawk that sat perched on my neighbor’s play set. Tawny,heavy brow, white lores around the very big, very curved beak, yellow legs, brown and tawny back, white chest, several black stripes in the white tipped tail.

It was not a Coopers, and not a Red-tail.

It just rested and looked around, up and down, barely paying me any mind as a skulked closer, with either  camera or binoculars at my eye. The hawk let out a high pitched whistle, which I instantly recognized as that sound that had pulled me outside for the last month.

It let out another whistle as it unfolded its wings and drifted over the treetops. I raced into the house to examine my shots and ID the mystery raptor…only to notice that my card was still in the computer from last  photo edit. Drat!!!  Fortunately, trying to frame a good field ID photo had focused my attention enough on the hawk’s details that I could trip the empty-camera-card-slot-failure into a success.

I got really close to an immature Broad-wing Hawk!!!

And I ran out of time to weed before dinner prep.  *snaps fingers* Shucks…

Just so we are clear…Gardening is merely the prompt to birding in my backyard.  Binoculars, I have found, must accompany the trowel, or at least be a dash distance nearby, or I just procrastinate the dirt work.  Even then, birds trump plants. Like yesterday…

Night temperatures fell past dew point, and this morning’s herb garden was bejeweled in water beads, leaving even weeds pretty.  Yesterday’s chore had to be completed before the cilantro got crowded out by crabgrass and some mystery choker.  Summer contact calls were music to weed by so out I went, binoculars, trowel, weed bucket.  When I could distinctly see sage, oregano, cilantro seedlings, and thyme, I declared gardening done, and strolled around, glasses in hand, just in time to watch a mustached Northern Flicker and his partner send their sharp beaks between blades of dew-soaked grass.  In the distance, an adult male Northern Cardinal fanned his feathers wide, and a pair of Mourning Doves fluttered in to join his hedgerow morning spa.

Gardening is a gateway chore to my passion.  I relax, content.

Woodland Apparition

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This ghostly flower can be found blooming in the deep woods from June to September, when the leaf canopy creates a shady gloom.  A symbiotic relationship between a fungus (mycorrhiza fungi) and tree roots releases nutrients that the myco-heterotrophic Ghost Plant soaks up.   

 

Unthinkable

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Unthinkable…that the dog days of summer could ever be absent of feline fur.  But one year ago my carpets only held canine shed.  Today I type to the scamper of my tuxedo kitty, and begin the celebratory anniversary week of her rescue.