Hmm – do I dare churn out a few more posts on local waterfowl after two Mute Swan posts last week?
Well, that is the plan until I FINALLY return to the remaining 2021 treks that were usurped by holiday and Winter posts.
Today you’ll see a recap of my visit to Dingell Park at the Detroit River shoreline on February 27th. You may recall my intention was to bop by Council Point Park, then head straight to Dingell Park, but then I was waylaid by the pair of Mute Swans that caused my fascination with the green-banded Pen #M011.
After parking the car, first I strolled the boardwalk and got some steps in …
… but spent a lot of time at the pavilion area.
Then, after chattin’ it up with a couple of birders, I strayed to the border of Ecorse and Wyandotte for more photos. Because there was a twist to that trek, I’ll save that leg of the journey for next Monday’s post.
The Herons were MIA, but other waterfowl were well represented.
What a difference from my last trip here in early January when the icy Detroit River was so barren looking, with waves frozen in place and huge slabs of ice slapping up against the shoreline.
It was a beautiful morning – the water was sparkling and the sun glinting off the remaining ice floes. Because it was windy, the ice floes were drifting ever so slightly, occasionally bumping up against the icy shoreline, making clinking noises like ice in a glass. It was a waterfowl enthusiast’s paradise … I didn’t know where to look first.
A few Mallards had staked out smaller, stationary chunks of ice as their spot (despite having icy-cold feet, but maybe it was a respite from the frigid water).
Canada Geese were either snoozing or honking noisily at the world, but mostly at one another, with all the usual histrionics that Canada Geese are so fond of doing, only to“make friends” a minute after hissing, wing flapping and a lowering of their slender black necks to water level.
There were Mute Swans sleeping, swimming, or hanging out with some geese on ice floes. Note their dirty necks from diving for aquatic plants to feed on.
Time was a’ tickin’ for Bald Eagle sighting.
My decision to head to Dingell Park was based on the weather. We were slated to have warmer weather over the next few days, so likely the ice floes would melt, thus potentially this was my last chance to see the Bald Eagles that overwinter at Mud Island (a 21-acre property across from Dingell Park). The eagles stay in the bare trees at this uninhabited island, while scoping out their next meal. Then they swoop down to catch a fish with those long talons, but they also catch fish from the ice floes.
I follow Dingell Park on Facebook and the eagles had been plentiful in January and February. Photographers posted up-close images of mature eagles (dark-brown plumage with a completely white head) and also juvenile eagles (mottled brown plumage all over). There were a variety of ducks featured, as well as a pack of coyotes traveling across the frozen ice (I’d have loved to have seen that).
Well my visit didn’t disappoint as I saw several eagles that day. From the pavilion platform I had a good view and was by myself most of the time. Usually the viewing area is crowded: photographers with cameras with long lenses, or folks using binoculars, all wishing to see and/or photograph the eagles.
Later, a man and woman were standing at the pavilion near me, she with a smartphone and he with a camera on a tripod and binoculars suspended from his neck. We chatted about the beautiful morning, then shifted our focus to the trees at Mud Island. Soon a lone eagle took flight from the trees and glided overhead. I got a couple of shots, but the sun went out momentarily, so they are more like silhouettes.
Moments later that eagle joined a pair of eagles on an ice floe.
I watched intently, but no eagle in that trio of hopefuls caught a fish, so that same eagle left on its own. It was successful as you see in this picture, with a fish caught in its talons.
I enjoyed myself, snapping a ton of pictures and surprisingly, not one seagull was around – were they worried about the eagles making them their prey?
Like many of you, I was interested in learning more about this banded Mute Swan M011, the subject of yesterday’s blog post. It was the first banded wild bird I’ve ever seen – talk about being at the right place at the right time, so this event makes up for my unsuccessful participation in “The Great Backyard Bird Count” last month.
Here’s some information I have gleaned. I was surprised to learn that Ms. Swan has been wearing that neck collar for nearly eight years:
The Mute Swan was captured and neck collared for identification as part of Ph.D. research with Michigan State University. The goal of this research is to understand the movement and survival of Mute Swans in Michigan and is being conducted in partnership with the Michigan Department of Natural Resources and USDA-APHIS Wildlife Services. The outcomes of this research will inform management strategies for Mute Swans in Michigan and across the United States.
As part of the research, neck collars were placed on select Mute Swans in several areas of the state during the summer of 2014. They will be continuing to mark and monitor Mute Swans across the state for the next few years.
Mute Swan M011 was captured and banded in August of 2014 about sixty miles from here at St. Clair Flats State Wildlife Area (Harsens Island, Michigan).
There was also a website to submit information on many species of banded birds. It is the Federal Bird Banding Laboratory (a/k/a Patuxent Research Refuge Bird Banding Laboratory), so I filled out the form and their requested criteria about M011 and submitted three photos. For my submission, I will receive a Certificate of Appreciation.
Last Sunday I had big plans … not fun plans, but I had dawdled long enough in compiling the tax paperwork, so it was time to hunker down and get ‘er done. So, I would walk to the Park, do some laps, feed my furry and feathered friends, then head home. I wasn’t too enthused with the prospect to be honest.
Then I looked outside.
It was a bright and beautiful day – who wants to be inside sifting through paperwork? In a heartbeat, I tabled that tax task to the next weekend and decided to drive, make a quick pit stop at Council Point Park, then head one mile east to Dingell Park on the Detroit River.
Though I had sworn off taking any more pictures until I had exhausted the 2021 photos, apparently I had a momentary lapse of judgment as I sped out the door with the camera in hand. Hours later I would return with enough waterfowl shots for several posts.
Mr. and Mrs. Mute Swan graced the Park with their presence.
At Council Point Park, I really didn’t plan on taking any photos, but, as I walked around the perimeter path, suddenly there was a flash of white between the bare bushes and trees. That sighting could mean only one thing: a Mute Swan visit. In nearly nine years of walking at the Park, I’ve only seen Mute Swans about a half-dozen times. So, I hurried over, hooking my bag onto my arm, shucking my mittens, exchanging them for my fingerless gloves.
My hunch was correct. There was a pair of Mute Swans gliding around the alcove area, the same spot which was so popular with the Mallards due to the dead shad. I had not seen any shad, dead or alive, the last time I was here, but I suspected some bodies might have lingered as a fishy smell permeated the air.
I stood back admiring the swans from afar before taking photos. It was a male (“Cob”) and female (“Pen”) and they alternated between preening, diving for aquatic plants and admiring one another. I often see photos of swans beak to beak, their graceful necks forming a heart – these two were close together, but I captured no such dramatic shots.
It was then I noticed one of the swans had something on its neck. I first thought it was some muck it had dredged up from the Creek bed, but it was moving. I turned the camera on and quickly zoomed in. It was a band of some sort with numbers on it. Hmm – strange they would band a bird around its neck and not its feet? I pondered about the swan’s “necklace” and watched it slipping up and down this beautiful creature’s neck effortlessly and seemingly not constricting it.
Yes, I was mesmerized by these Mute Swans.
Filled with bravado, yet determined to thwart any unwelcome advances by a prickly Cob, I inched a little closer to the ledge and began taking photos of the pair. But, after only a few shots, evidently the clicking of the shutter alerted the Cob, who paddled closer to the cement ledge, so I backed up posthaste. I managed to get a few shots in as you see below.
The male (“Cob”) quickly paddled over to see if I was a threat to him or the Missus.
Looks like I passed muster and he returned to the female/mate (“Pen”).
You likely noticed the collar/tag on this Pen in the header image. It easily slid up/down its graceful neck.
Though to me the poor Pen looks mighty uncomfortable and a bit constricted in this shot.
Swans are so graceful and beautiful, even when simply sipping water or gliding in the Creek.
I wonder if this Pen likes what she sees as she gazes at her reflection?
Together or apart, the Mute Swans made an impression on me as I watched them on that cold February morning. Although I’ve seen no more shad floating about, there are other fish that populate the Creek waters and clearly that was the magnet for the Mute Swans’ appearance. Interestingly, the Cob was content to watch the Pen go diving several times for a fish and then wrangle it as you will see in the photos below. I couldn’t tell if she shared her fish with her mate.
Mute Swans breed anytime from March through June. Every year I am hopeful to find cygnets tucked away on their mom’s feathers on her back going for a free “boat ride” – maybe this year?
I wondered if I could find out the history of this collared Mute Swan, so after going through my photos on Saturday, I researched a little on my own. I found an article online by David R. Luukkonen, Ph.D., a Wildlife Research Biologist with the Michigan Department of Natural Resources. The DNR had collared and tagged many Mute Swans and he requested any sightings of swans with their I.D. info and location be forwarded to him as they wished to track the swans’ whereabouts throughout Michigan. I submitted the criteria requested and three photos. I hope I can learn the origin of where this swan was tagged and released; if so, I’ll update this post.
P.S. – Wondering about my wariness to approach the swans?
Because you only have to be chased by a Mute Swan once to remember how scary it was, as you read above, I stood a respectable distance away while admiring and taking pictures of the pair. Here’s the backstory, for those of you who were not around in 2018 when I had two encounters with Mute Swans within a few weeks’ time.
The first encounter happened after taking photos of a pair of Mute Swans on a picturesque day at Council Point Park. Portions of the pathway were icy and the landscape snowy. As I happily clicked away, I heard one of the swans making a snorting noise and figured its nostrils were stuffed up from diving into the frigid water. Well, that was an incorrect assumption. While Googling later that day, I learned the swan was irritated with me and made these noises. But why? I was not doing anything to anger it. Just admiring the pair’s grace and beauty and taking photos.
In fact I was still standing there when suddenly the huge Mute Swan huffed and puffed its way up the Creek bank and proceeded to charge at me. Yikes! On a Winter’s day when you had to be mindful of where you stepped, (and I’m talking about icy patches, not goose poop), my heart was pounding as I began walking backward, thinking I could go to the nearby park bench and climb up onto it to foil any attempt for this big brute to attack me. Mute Swans are known for their unprovoked attacks on humans. The swan plodded toward me, those powerful legs and webbed feet quickly shortening the distance between us. I was glad I had my wits about me and some quick thinking on my part as I tossed some peanuts I had in a Ziploc bag toward it, thinking it might eat them, allowing me a hasty getaway. It worked! I hightailed it to the other end of the Park and to the car, lest it should decide to come after me. It’s good to respect wildlife, though I certainly wasn’t hurting either of the swans. If you want to see the post about our interaction, here is the link and just scroll down near the end.
The other incident, just a few weeks later, at the same venue, did not involve a menacing Mute Swan, but instead a Mute Swan that was intently pushing its way through the thick ice on the Ecorse Creek. I stopped in my tracks on the perimeter path, marveling at how incredulous it was that this swan had forged a path through the ice and, having reached the Creek banks, it climbed up the sides and began preening all the icy chunks from its feathers. Its neck was soaking wet and it looked exhausted for that had been quite a trip. As it stood there, I knew it was tired, likely not even mindful of my presence. I remained frozen in place, worried that once the swan stopped preening, it might come after me, but I was surprised that it turned around and walked to the Creek bank and into the water to continues its ice-cutting journey once again. I was happy I had the camera handy for this sequence of events. That post may be found here.
It is fitting to end February’s fury, that began on Groundhog Day, with this, my last Winter post *… yes, I’m so done with this wicked month, if not the entire Winter season. I’m sure many of you agree.
On February 1st, I went to the Park on a beautiful, sunny 35F (1.6C) morning. I left extra food and warned my pals we were in for a Winter wallop. I told them “don’t look for me for a week and don’t worry, I’ll be back. Watch out for the hawks; stay up in your nests.” Walking home I wondered aloud if I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs to help my Park pals find my house.
Then came the siege of icy and snowy weather.
As if the Groundhog Day snowstorm, (dubbed “Winter Storm Landon” by the Weather Channel), wasn’t enough, we’ve had a parade of Arctic Blasts, wintry-mix Alberta Clippers and high winds ever since.
Winter Storm Landon affected 90 million people. We actually lucked out with Landon. Even though it was originally termed “Snowapalozza” or “Snowmaggedon” those totals were tamped down a little after the warm temps hung on a bit longer than expected. We still had the freezing drizzle, then snizzle (a snow/rain wintry mix) before the snow had its turn at the podium. That two-day event yielded nearly a foot of ice-laden snow.
As you know by now, Pugsatawney Phil saw his shadow which meant six more weeks of Winter – ugh. Phil’s handler made that proclamation. Michigan’s Winter Weather Prognosticator, a/k/a “Woody” was given a reprieve, a “snow day” they said, because of the snowstorm.
But, when she emerged on Saturday, February 5th, surrounded by her fans and local news stations, our Woody had the same dire prediction, just not with such eloquent words; she simply took a look around and scurried back into her house.
Woody is a female and her predictions have been more accurate than Phil. They were both correct this year.
Walking, what little I’ve done, has not been fun. Every trek in February began with a few uneasy steps. I likened each journey to a person getting their “sea legs”i.e. their ability to achieve a level of comfort to be able to walk on a boat without worries of going overboard. When picking my way around ice, whenever possible, I do a little step, step, tap … the tap being a toe tap on the cement to ensure it’s not icy. An onlooker might see me and wonder if I’m squishing a bug.
On February 18th, while hefting shovelfuls of the ice-laden half-foot of snow, I barely gave a passing glance to the sun glinting on the ice-coated tree branches creating exquisite prisms, something I’d normally admire. No, I didn’t race into the house to grab the camera like I did for the first snowstorm of the new year on January 1st … nope, I said “ice, nice … whatever” and went back to huffing, puffing and hefting the heavy snow.
But, back to February – do we blame the fractious weather on Mother Nature’s mood swings?
Perhaps these Winter personalities should bear the brunt of our collective weather displeasure:
The weather folks consistently got their snowfall predictions wrong and finally just proclaimed “several inches of snow will fall” as opposed to giving a definitive amount. One meteorologist used the term “Weather Whiplash” because when it wasn’t icy and dicey, we’d have one day when temps would soar, ice would melt and the next day, refreeze and falling temps made it treacherous to step out of the house.
Thus, this meme was making the rounds on local social media sites.
Every meteorologist or weather site here in SE Michigan has their own unique description of the Winter weather.
I’m left scratching my head over this below distinction between “quite cold” and “very cold” – shouldn’t it be the opposite of what they put for the “real feel” category? For goodness sake, just say brrr!
Believe me, I am NOT the only one with Winter woes and an attitude.
Let’s have a look at some others, okay?
Even the snowman lost his mojo, toppled over and was down for the count. Talk about someone needing an attitude adjustment – sheesh!
People in our City complained about the two, separate, multiple-day snow emergency events instituted to get vehicles off the road for plowing purposes, or risk being towed, plus ticketed ($65.00) for not doing so. The emergency sirens screeched that warning at 6:00 a.m. every day the snow emergency was in effect as a not-so-subtle reminder. That screaming siren did not go over very well!
Even the sweet Council Point Park critters aired their grievances, like here at the pavilion area.
I arrived one morning to see a squirrel, standing partly in the snow and one front paw placed on the picnic table seat, his snow-covered face wearing an almost–defiant look.
I know the squirrels and birds steered clear of this picnic table for fear they would be impaled by one of these icy daggers.
It was okay with them, of course, if I walked under an icy dagger hanging from the roof while doling out treats … just sayin’.
Throughout February I’ve been a fair-weather friend to my Park pals. I suspect they’d give me an “F” for failing to show up on a regular basis, but icy sidewalks, snow-slickened roads, brutal cold and very high winds kept me away. Plus, sometimes I arrived to find the Park path snowy and not plowed or salted. Truly, it hurts my heart to disappoint them, but I was not about to take a nasty tumble necessitating a trip to the E.R. during a pandemic, but I fretted daily about my furry and feathered friends.
Each time I returned to the Park, I suspect my absence was forgiven as they came over to greet me. I imagine a thought bubble over a squirrel’s head the likes of “nice to finally grace us with your presence – we’re starving!” Or how about “Linda, be honest – are you seeing other squirrels?”
Wrangling walnuts: in a nutshell, Parker was a brat!
Even Parker, my always-amiable Park pal was disgruntled with the snow and seemingly with me.
As a youngster, I was always told to be happy with what I had and never ask for more. Perhaps I should impart that wisdom onto Parker. That little rascal got “hangry” with me and no, I didn’t hand him a Snickers bar to make him behave!
I never thought I’d say this, but since he is out of earshot and doesn’t follow my blog … “Parker was a brat!”
On this particular February morn, I might have even give myself a new moniker of “Linda the Juggler” as I was on foot and packing peanuts, sunflower seeds, two dishes of suet, a 1/2 bag of walnuts and a 1/2 bag of hazelnuts. With a wintry mix once again on the horizon, I knew walking would not fit into the immediate weather equation.
I arrived at the Park and began making the rounds to the three spots where I tender treats. Suddenly it began to flurry – hard. “Well that would curtail taking any pictures” I thought.
I received a warm welcome at the Safe Haven Tree that day – a Jay shrieking to herald my arrival and squirrels jockeying in position for treats. I had only one more “drop-off spot” on the other side of the Park, so I had reserved peanuts and sunflower seeds for that spot and I held onto a half-dozen walnuts in case I saw Parker.
Parker appeared, as if on cue, alone and with pleading eyes and parked himself at the side of the path. Having seen a hawk within the last week, I was wary of leaving the walnuts on the path, thus exposing him to a hawk. Also, I wanted to get home before it got too snowy and slick, so I steered my furry friend toward one of the small memorial trees. I laid out four walnuts on the snowy ground beneath the tree. He scurried over, took one walnut and sat next to the tree to nosh on it.
Then he returned for another walnut, and ran up the tree with it …
… then tucked it into a little space in the tree for safekeeping.
Here, let me hone in on this treasure.
He then zoomed back down the trunk and went for another walnut. I figured he’d eat it on the spot, but no, he looked around, then buried it.
I waited patiently and told Parker “okay, I’m going under this tree to keep the camera from getting wet – c’mon and eat your walnuts so Linda can take some more photos of you.”
Yes, I got a few pictures. Then he did something peculiar, even for Parker. He went up into the tree and chattered at me, all the while swishing that bushy tail back and forth. I asked him what his problem was.
There I was handing off what I figured were the crème de la crème of squirrel treats and he was complaining. Obviously my words did not fizz on him, because the weirdness continued as he hurried, headfirst, down the tree trunk and over to the toe of my hiking boots. I swiveled around to get a photo of that, but he started not only tugging on my sweatpants, but scaling up my leg. Then I felt a tug pulling the plastic bag with the peanuts and seeds downward. No pics on any of these activities, so you will have to trust me on that. I had slipped the handle of the bag on my arm so it was out of the way to take pictures. I assume he could smell the peanuts. So, was he going for the peanuts as I hadn’t put any out for him? It sure looked like it. I stepped back and gestured with my hand that this was a “no-no” and the peanuts and sunflower seeds were for the squirrels and birds at the next stop.
He got an attitude and went up the tree and walked to the end of the branch and chattered at me again.
I then began to wonder if it was a Parker imposter. He looked like he was about to spring onto me to get to the bag, I stepped back and said “stop that now!” I went to leave and he jumped down and circled around me once again. I left the rest of the walnuts and said “I’m outta here” when I saw another Fox squirrel out of the corner of my eye – the two clashed, tussling in the snow. I got out of there as his attitude was unnerving me a little.
Happily I made it home without being caught in a snow squall, which happened to me on Christmas Day one year when I lingered too long, a squall erupted and that mile-long walk home was treacherous.
To help me “think Spring” I’ve booked two virtual 5Ks for 2022, “Happy Soles” for Fish & Loaves Food Pantry at Heritage Park and “Run for the Trees” to benefit Michigan’s reforestation efforts via a seed re-planting program by prisoners. That DNR-sponsored event is at a site of your choosing. Tomorrow is March 1st – a new month which hopefully is better than February was.
* Alas, this is not my last Winter post. I wrote this post Saturday afternoon. Yesterday I had good intentions to go to the Park, walk a lot, feed my Park critters, then come home and work on compiling the tax paperwork. I looked outside – Mr. Sun was shining brightly, no ice or snow, a tad cold, even windy, but all my good intentions came to a halt. Instead, I enjoyed four hours walking and taking photos in two parks, BUT … those upcoming posts will be crowing about a February day, not whining about it. 🙂
I was walking along the perimeter path at Council Point Park a few weeks ago. On that day, the City had neither plowed, nor salted, the walking path, even though they’ve been good about doing so the past few years. Thankfully, the big dump truck that collects trash from the bins along the path, had left tire marks that effectively smashed down the 9.2 inches/23 cms of snow we gleaned from Winter Storm Landon. While I traipsed along, mindful of the possible icy patches lurking beneath the snow, I deposited seeds and peanuts for my furry and feathered friends, who immediately started chowing down.
There was only one other diehard walker I encountered that morning. The weather, always a common topic of conversation among walkers, brought grumbling and his declaration that “Winter is for the birds!” I agreed and tucked that thought away to use for a blog title some day.
After we parted, I dwelled on that statement, because if you took those words literally, that would be a misnomer for sure. I mused that, after all, how unlikely would any Michigan bird embrace Winter, unless it had a guaranteed food source, like a backyard bird feeder or suet at its disposal? A heated birdbath would really sweeten the pot. Winter sure isn’t an opportunity for a bird like a woodpecker to grab a grub or two simply by shimmying up the tree and I’m pretty sure, even the hardiest Robin who hangs around the Mitten State during the Winter months, would find it near impossible to rustle up a worm from the snowy grass. Berries are long gone too – nope, it is NOT a time of joy for our feathered friends.
The 2022 Great Backyard Bird Count.
This past weekend, February 18th through 21st, was/is the 25th annual “Great Backyard Bird Count”, a four-day event in which anyone, (not just birders), is encouraged to report the birds seen in a 15-minute period on any one of the four days.
My wings have been clipped for weeks thanks to an ice-covered driveway that has made it treacherous to even back the car out of the garage, so any bird-viewing venture was to be done on foot.
My plan to participate was simple – instead of reporting on the Sparrows that take shelter in my backyard, tucking themselves into bushes, or huddling together on the back windowsills, my intended mission was to report on the birds at Council Point Park, specifically at the Weeping Mulberry Memorial Tree that I’ve coined The Safe Haven Tree.
However, this was still another plan best left in my head, not committed to action. Friday morning (the 18th) I spent shoveling out still another Winter dumping of ice-laden snow – this time it was 6.8 inches/17 cms. Saturday morning, we had single-digit wind chills and blowing and drifting of new snow. Sunday did not look promising either, so I resorted to Plan “B” i.e. my backyard.
Yes, I had set my sights on other songbirds, but I also wanted to participate in this event, so I shuffled to the backyard, camera in hand, tapping my foot while awaiting Sparrows. Now, not to disparage Sparrows, those salt-of-the-Earth brown birdies that seem to weather the elements year-around, (but are actually bullies that take over the nesting habitats of wrens and other small birds), but yes, they were my second choice. It was brutally cold and blustery and alas, I could not will the Sparrows to put in an appearance, so I needed a Plan “C” to get ‘er done.
Thus Plan “C” was implemented – you will read about Plan “C” at the TAIL end of this post.
I came inside, had some coffee to warm up, then went through my photo files to collect bird photos from 2021 to create this post.
Eyes on the Prize.
There is often a flurry of activity of “The Feathered Faithful” at the Safe Haven Tree after I stop to dole out sunflower seeds and peanuts beneath the canopy of branches that hopefully act as a deterrent against the dreaded Hawks that cruise overhead. I like to think that my feathered and furry friends are able to dine without fear of becoming the prey of those raptors.
I usually spread seeds and peanuts, then back out from the cramped space beneath the tree and stand and observe from the path. Almost immediately I see birds flitting to the ground upon my exit.
Since I began leaving food for my Park pals under the tree, this makeshift feeder now welcomes not only Blue Jays and Cardinals, but also Dark-eyed Juncos, Black-capped Chickadees and Purple Finches. Downy Woodpeckers and Red-Bellied Woodpeckers also show up to dine.
The Blue Jays are boisterous and screech to their brethren to alert the arrival of treats, then boldly swoop down, often in front of the squirrels to snatch a peanut. They are not intimidated by my presence in the least, as evident from the close-ups.
Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal are not as brave, often waiting politely in the branches until the others have gone and I include myself as one of those others. I don’t take it personally, but getting a picture of the other birds is tricky sometimes and only done several paces away from them. No Mister and Missus Cardinal in this post, but there was some activity with a seed bell I placed beneath the tree, which they promptly knocked over.
This Cardinal eyed the seed bell and a caption could be “go big or go home!”
Were they in cahoots to eat the seed bell?
I laughed at the smaller bird acting as a lookout. Hmm – I wonder what was in it for him/her?
Chickadees often blitz to the ground for a seed, then back up to a branch before I get a chance to get a photo, so I was lucky this day, although I was too far away to get a clear close-up.
I took suet trays several times, including pecan suet that is favored by Woodpeckers. That was fun as I lured a Downy Woodpecker who shall be named Dempsey going forward. Here is Dempsey shimmying up and around the trunk of the tree, occasionally peeking around to check my whereabouts.
As far as I can tell, the only Red-bellied Woodpecker at this Park is a male I’ve dubbed Rex. Rex swoops over, lands on a branch, then promptly drops to the ground to nibble on suet or snag a peanut.
Male Northern Cardinal.
Did you look closely at that beautiful Cardinal pictured up top? If so, you probably could have called me out for tricking you, because this male Cardinal with its vibrant plumage, black “mask” and distinctive crest, one of the most-recognizable birds in North America, is NOT a real bird.
Wait, what? Are you going to scroll to the top and check it out now?
Over the years, at our house Cardinals were a popular Christmas decoration with tree ornaments, plates – even holiday mugs collected through the years.
The header image is one such Christmas ornament, a National Audubon Society Cardinal, designed to be clipped onto a Christmas tree bough, where it nestles life-like in the branches. But sadly, after purchasing this Cardinal ornament, although this porcelain bird is not heavy, it sagged down the branches of our miniature tree and could not be positioned any way without toppling over sideways. Similarly, clipping the Cardinal ornament onto a wreath did not work well either, so it remained in the box, year after year, until I took it outside, clipped it onto the branch of a snowy Nana Hinoki Cypress bush. Voila, a Winter bird for my post!
Were you fooled? Do you need proof it is not a real bird? Here is the big reveal … the tail and Audubon authenticity stamp.
Linda Schaub
WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY 