Holding a Red Crossbill

Summer 2007

Walking out onto our deck I almost stepped on a crouching bird about 6” long with light brown back, leaf green cap and yellow green underbelly.  I carefully picked it up to see what was wrong with it and got a surprise when I looked at the beak closely.  It was long, sharp with the bottom overlapping the top and twisted to one side.  I knew then it was a crossbill.

I called my daughter, Marisha (age 11) and she gently took it into her cupped hands with a look of pure delight.  Then she asked with doubt in her voice, “Do you think it might have bird flu?”  A good question, but I was pretty sure it had flown into one of the big windows of our sun-room and was simply stunned.  She sat outside in the morning sun holding the bird as it slowly regained strength.  

When my wife came out Marisha said, “I have always wanted to hold a wild bird.  This is the best day of my life!”  I remembered when Marisha was 6 and decided that she wanted to be like Saint Francis and have all the animals come to her.  She stood waiting in the woods for almost an hour before she returned to the house tearful with disappointment.  Now she had a small taste of her wish. 

So many children never have the opportunity to be in such intimate contact with nature, to feel the beating heart of a wild animal.  We placed the bird on a seat and went inside to watch.  Together we looked through the bird books, confused by the bright green coloring until we realized she was a female red crossbill, with coloring totally unlike the rosy male.   A flock of crossbills started alighting on the trees near the pond, including some fine red males.  We had to leave for school but my wife said that a little later, the female crossbill gathered herself together and flew off into the forest.

Bears and Humans

Summer 2006
We regularly get visited by a full-grown black bear, as tall as I am when he is standing.  He once walked within 30 feet of my daughter while she played.  It did give her a bit of a shock, especially as he “huffed” as he went by, but she was more excited than fearful.

It is strange to me that many people are frightened of wild animals.  If you know and respect their nature, they are far less dangerous than humans.  Up close to a black bear, for instance, it becomes very clear he is only interested in finding food and having a quiet life.  I have stood within ten feet of our bear while he sat patiently waiting for me to get out of the way so he could get at my compost.  When I told him to go (in no uncertain terms), he got up and lumbered off to somewhere more peaceful.  Wild animals have their own lives and do not want to get over-involved with human hassles.       

Still, human beings carry their fear around with them and project it onto whatever is unknown.  Talking about lion’s tails and axe-handles, one neighbor goes for walks up the mountain road carrying one -- an axe-handle.  He looks more dangerous than the wild animals.

March Sunrise

Early morning view from our house.

Mountain Images

Here are a few images of the view from our house one winter's morning

Turkey, Kinglet, Falcon

Orianne and Marisha, my wife and daughter, saw a couple of wild turkeys on the way home last week.  I heard one in the distance when I was in the garden and went looking for it down the mountainside.  It was suddenly quiet and I came across a fox, standing still, watching my approach; it was obviously on the same hunt.  

A week later I had a spate of bird sightings.  We have many feathered visitors to our pond; it is the only open water for miles around.  Usually these are chickadees, nuthatches, siskins, junkos, robins and the occasional goldfinch.  This last weekend we were sitting on the deck when a tiny wren-like ball of fluff appeared on the willow above the pond.  It had the most gorgeous bright red mohawk on the top of its head - a Ruby-Crowned Kinglet.  Such tiny delicate beauty.  

Not long after, streaking through the forest about three feet from the ground, came a falcon, probably a Peregrin.  With blade-like wings, it swerved between the tree trunks like a slalom skier.  The next day at the pond was a squabbling flock of pine grosbeak, dabbing their big beaks into the water. Finally today, I saw the turkey.  I followed it as it strutted through the trees shaking its red wattle.  I was impressed by its regal bearing, long neck and glossy black back trimmed with light brown tail feathers.  It never hurried but managed to keep at least 25 yards between us, no matter how fast I pursued.  It lost me in a thicket.

Coyote and Fox

This is the first siting of Lucy Fox in 2007.
Sitting at my computer, I look out the window into the pine forest. Up the slope, I planted beds of daffodils so I can glance up and see their bright yellow flowers in the Spring. Today, as I was working, a very healthy coyote wandering past the window. I got up and followed it from window to window as it walked around the whole house. Finally, its curiosity satisfied, it ran off down the road. 

It did not see me but I was often within a few feet. I could clearly see the bright intelligence and curiosity in its eyes as it checked out everything. The contrast of sandy gray and light yellow tinge of its coat was beautiful.

I totally admire the independence and aliveness of wild animals. They are so very different from our domesticated pets. Ten minutes later, again at my computer, a ragged vixen fox decided to stop outside the window to clean herself. She sat down with black-stockinged legs splayed and nibbled at her belly. 

The contrast with the coyote was startling. The fox had obviously had a very hard winter. Her coat was drab and patchy, her eyes were dim, and her tail did not even have the red foxy color and white tip. She got up after a minute and continued on her way with a dainty stepping motion of her slender black legs. Even in her ragged state she still walked as if her feet disliked the touch of dirt. Foxes strut like aristocrats; coyotes lope like commoners.

Humming Birds and Northern Goshawk

Spring 2005

The first day of Spring! A week ago the Broad-tailed hummingbird arrived from his long journey North. I heard his whistling flight on the front porch where he was checking out the empty feeder. I filled it fast and watched as he settled in for a drink. His scarlet red bib twinkled in the sun as he bobbed his head up and down -- and then he was off faster than the eye can follow to start work on his nest.

Up at this altitude (7,400) we measure spring by the arrival of the first hummingbird. Now we know there may be a few more frosts and a couple of wet snows but they won’t usually last long. In past years we had up to a dozen hummingbirds at the feeder and the air would be filled with their courtship flights - males rising high in the air and then a piercing whistling as they dived back down to earth, missing our heads my inches. The last couple of years we have only had about six to eight after the babies have grown.

We see two species of hummingbird: the Broad-tailed and the Rufous. That little red terrorist won’t arrive until August but when he does all hell breaks loose. Until then, it is pretty sedate at the feeder. This weekend, working out on the deck in glorious Colorado weather (75F with deep blue sky), a hawk glided close overhead. It’s underwings were a very light gray and its wings blunt and powerful. We have sometimes confused the ravens gliding and tumbling down in the valley with birds of prey but this was more serene and majestic - a Northern Goshawk.

There is something special about birds of prey. More than most birds, they cause a flurry of excitement, a wish to see more and get closer. Maybe it is those movies of medieval falcons on the wrists of lords or a primitive deep memory of being prey to flying preditors. The scene in the Lord of the Rings when the Hobbits are save by giant eagles stirs the blood. When I see a hawk or falcon, I know the natural world is still somewhat in balance.

Mountain Lions and Bears

My first sighting of a cougar/mountain lion! 

On our way home from a very nice Christmas Eve dinner with friends, a lion bounded across the road and climbed a high bank to disappear into the trees. Big as a Great Dane, with a low-slung, sleek tan body, what struck me most was the size of its tail. It was as long as an axe-handle and waved about keeping the lion balanced as it climbed.  

Orianne, my wife, has seen lions many times, but this is my first in 16 years living in the Rocky Mountain foothills above Boulder. We have distant neighbors who seem convinced that the local lions are about to gang up and eat them. They sent out flyers detailing the imminent attacks a few years ago.  So far, the local lions don’t seem to bother humans much.  They do take a cat or small dog now and then.  You see the rather sad notices on the electric poles around the neighborhood asking for news of lost pets.   

Most attacks on people take place in remote areas of Colorado where the lions have had little human contact.  Usually it is on a child or jogger running alone down an empty trail.  From the lion’s point of view, the runner looks like strange, spooked prey. We have two children who have grown up in the mountains.  They have wandered and played in the pine forests around the house all their lives, without fear.