4,010 Miles, 30 Life birds: Part I

A tornado of final exams and presentations and papers (and sabbatical replacement search committee meetings and phone interviews) descended upon me in early May and by graduation I was well beyond ready to play. School got out on May 17th and I had two more weeks in Asheville before my brother would fly out and we would drive my trusty pickup back across the country. I spent those two weeks birding, playing baseball, and drinking local brews in the lengthening evenings with friends.

Early morning birding on the WWC campus.

Redbird, Northern Cardinal, Cardinalis cardinalis.

My friend Sam and I hiked Mt. Mitchell, the tallest peak in the U.S. east of the Mississippi--12 miles round trip through lush hardwood forest and up into spruce-pine forest. We got great looks at some delicious warblers, including Canada, Magnolia, Black-burnian, and Black-throated Blue. The hike is bizarre because you spend the first 5.75 miles on a secluded mountain trail but share the last 200 meters of the trek with tourists who drove to the top and they are huffing and puffing on the asphalt road to the concrete structure that sits atop the highest point (really, they had to build something man-made above the highest point east of the Mississippi?). It made me laugh. We stayed up there a short time and then quickly retreated to the solitude of the deserted trail.

Blue Ridge Mountains

On May 28th, my brother arrived and we spent 3 days in the Asheville area to explore and so I could perform in two concerts with the Wild Asheville Community Chorus lead by Suzannah Park and Nathan Morrison (one of the main reasons I decided to finish at Warren Wilson was actually not even related to school, but to this incredible, soul-nurturing choir!). We birded the Blue Ridge Parkway and saw lifer #1 for the trip: a Cerulean Warbler. We heard it singing for ten or fifteen minutes before we actually saw the bird--dang those guys are hard to track down high in those leaf-filled trees! It chased a Blackburnian Warbler away (always a treat to see, those flame-throated birds) and took off again. I would love to get better looks at the Cerulean Warbler but I'll settle for that for now.

Not a Cerulean Warbler but another vibrantly colored shade of blue--Indigo Bunting, Passerina cyanea, near Mt. Mitchell.

On June 2, Ben and I started the long drive south to New Orleans, where we would then head West along the coast of Louisiana. I won't bore you with all the details of the trip in one post but will follow up this post with vignettes and photos to catch you up on what we saw and experienced!

It's Getting Lush/Spring Migration

One of my favorites, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Regulus calendula.

Yellow-throated Vireo, Vireo flavifrons.

The migrants are pouring up into the mountains. The trees are finally leafing out, the green is creeping up the slopes slowly every day. The whole system is so alive and in motion. To go outside in the morning is a feast of all the senses--a mixed chorus of birds, a bombardment of color (mostly some shade of light green), the spicy fresh smell of new leaves, a lightness in the air before the humidity sets in, and plenty of yummy fresh "weeds" to munch on as you walk (violets are edible! Garlic mustard, chickweed, and dandelion--a constant foragers feast!).

I will be honest with you, I have been struggling with motivation lately in all aspects of my life, but once I step outside and give myself just a few minutes with the chaotic stimulation of spring, I feel amazed that I could ever have wanted to stay in bed. I really should just pitch a tent and wake each day with the dawn chorus.

Blue-headed Vireo, Vireo solitarius, chowing down a grub.

Same Blue-headed. I had a four vireo day--Blue-headed, Red-eyed, Yellow-throated, and White-eyed.

Today I hiked all around Jones Mountain, where I have three study plots (I have a total of twelve on campus). I'm starting to gather data for my senior research--bird surveys in the college forest, basically setting up a monitoring baseline for further surveys in the coming years (whether or not the college follows through is out of my hands)--so I expect to skip a lot of class and just be lost in the forest for the next month, with the birds. I'll be taking lots of pictures, so keep your eyes peeled for new blog posts.

A Flowering Dogwood, Cornus florida.

Dogwood flowers.

Quaint resting spot at the orchard.

A Sea Duck That Likes to Golf

Long-tailed Duck, Biltmore Forest, NC.

I have chased several Long-tailed Ducks in the past year in California and dipped on every single one, mostly because I did not have a scope or a ton of time to scan the choppy pacific ocean for this interestingly patterned sea duck. I did not expect to get my life Long-tailed Duck in a tiny pond on a golf course in the mountains of North Carolina. Definitely not.

I saw on the carolinabirds listserv that there was a sighting just 20 minutes away from my house, so I swung by today and immediately lost my breath. Long-tailed ducks are gorgeous. I was also pleased that all of the four other birders photographing the duck were women! That is most definitely the first time I have come across that phenomenon while chasing a rarity. Usually I am the only lady there (as well as the only young'un, but apparently only about 6% of birders are under the age of 25). Anyway, I watched the duck for a long time as the sun began to drop behind a large weeping willow that shaded the pond. The bird dove and dove and dove, usually coming up with a bill covered in green slimy mud. I used my stopwatch to count how long it stayed underwater--consistently 21-23 seconds, and it stayed above water for about 7 seconds each time before diving again. It almost felt like a rhythmic dance. I looked it up when I got home and it said that Long-tailed Ducks usually spend about three times as much time underwater than above water...well, what do you know? Seven times three equals twenty-one. How cool is that? Animal behavior is incredibly interesting. That is one of my several very cool classes this semester, and I am loving it so far.

The following four shots are a little taste of what I spent about thirty minutes watching, smiling each time:

 

And some artsy shots:

Snow Birds

It snowed almost 8 inches last week and the bitter cold seeped into every inch of exposed skin (there wasn't much exposed, that's for sure). This week I was overheating wearing just a long-sleeved shirt and enjoying doing homework while sitting on my roof in shorts. I'm a little confused...is it winter in the Northeast? Late summer on the Northern California coast? It sure doesn't feel like the mountains of Western North Carolina, yet here I am.

Here are some photos of recent birds and snow days (three days off school in a row, the first time Warren Wilson has canceled class due to weather in well over a decade, maybe ever!).

First Northern Cardinal photo of the year. One of my goals of 2014 is to mega-crush a NOCA. This is not a mega-crush, though it was taken in my backyard, and is one of a very active pair, which means they are going to be hanging around right here for awhile, let's hope they nest in my bushes!

First Northern Cardinal photo of the year. One of my goals of 2014 is to mega-crush a NOCA. This is not a mega-crush, though it was taken in my backyard, and is one of a very active pair, which means they are going to be hanging around right here for awhile, let's hope they nest in my bushes!

Carolina Chickadee at my good friend Madalyn's farm in Prospect Hill, NC, up near the Virginia border.

Snowy morning on the porch.

That's quite a bit of build up!

Cold-footed Killdeer.

Blank canvas with Killdeer.

A New (sort of) Adventure

My first bird of 2014? A Blue Jay calling outside the window. Seems fitting, since I've been studying corvids all year.

"Don't you mean a Scrub-jay, Nora? You're on Santa Cruz Island!"

No, I don't. I mean a Blue Jay, Cyanocitta cristata.

"Wait, where are you?"

Asheville, North Carolina!

Yes, that's right, I've moved away from my beloved islands and back to the mountains of western North Carolina for a year to finish my undergraduate degree at Warren Wilson College, where I left two years ago to pursue field work and self-discovery. It's exciting and at times frustrating (I'd forgotten how annoying it is to deal with college administrative b.s.), but I'm looking forward to making the most out of my 12-months in this incredible region.

More to come soon once I am more settled and have some time to get some good photos of winter birds in these beautiful wispy, leafless forests. I used to think that leafless felt lifeless, but now it just feels like a latent promise of rejuvenation, of rebirth. I'm happy to be back.

A Blue Jay scrounging for fallen seeds below a feeder at my friend Madalyn's farm in Prospect Hill, NC.

A Quick Study of Hillary Clinton

No, not the politician. The Island Scrub Jay, of course!

This is Hillary. I absolutely adore her.

As I mentioned in this post from 2011, we have a study plot whose territorial pairs are named after political figures (loosely translated--we have a Dennis Rodman, and a Ghengis Kahn, among others). Our cabins are located in the center of the Field Station plot, on the convergence of three territories: Castro and Dahlia, Tony and Cherie Blair, and Bart Stupak (who we call Pug) and Hillary Clinton. These birds get quite a bit more attention than the other birds in the neighboring territories because we hang out on our porch and they come beg for peanuts. It's pretty hard to resist.

Their boldness allows for close views of these phenomenal birds, so I present to you a simple study of Hillary Clinton.

Her colorband combination is GBG/AR.

This is what Hillary looks like underneath her feathers.

Island Scrub Jays have blue undertail coverts, one of the many features that distinguishes it from the Western Scrub Jay.

A close up of Hillary's feet. A bird's feet are the equivalent of our toes. Her bands are on her tarsus, which is like our foot. Her "backwards knee" is her ankle, and her knee and hip are hidden inside fluffy body feathers (see naked Hillary above to try to figure it out!).

The Primaries and Secondaries (main flight feathers of the wing) are capped by Primary and Secondary Coverts, the small rectangular feathers in the top left of the photo. Also note the gray body feathers--they are wispy and loose, unlike the sturdy flight feathers that need to be able to withstand the force of air when they fly. Body feathers provide insulation (like your down jacket!).

PUG up close. All ISSJs have chocolate eyes. Here he shows us the white "eyebrow", called a supercilium. All the feathers around the eyes are stiff and thin to protect the eyes from getting gunk in them. The long black thin "feathers" coming from his "chin" are called rictal bristles. They can help the bird sense things that are below their range of sight.

PUG/AR showing us his nictitating membrane, a third eyelid used to clean the eyeball and keep it moist. They blink with this most of the time, rather than their normal eyelids.

 Do you have questions about the Island Scrub Jay? There is so much to learn! Ask me in the comments and I will try to answer as best I can with photos, anecdotes, and some good ole' scientific exploration.

Giving Thanks

 

I am a highly emotional person. There, I said it. Why is that hard to say? You see, culturally, many humans seem hesitant to celebrate this quality in a person—maybe they have been raised to see emotionality as a sign of weakness or fragility, of being “crazy” or easily affected by the more trivial events in the world. Maybe they feel like they have to tip-toe around someone they see as overly emotional or spend extra energy supporting them. The way I see it, emotional sensitivity can be defined or displayed in many different ways, but when it comes down to it, “emotional” people may feel elements of the world that slip by the notice of others and recognize the beauty encapsulated in that moment or fragment of life. Something I find myself combating is the notion that the emotional response of sensitive people is centered around sadness, that if someone is overly emotional it means they struggle with happiness and they are sensitive to all the negative things in the world. This is not true. My strong and “sensitive” emotional responses often stem from a tiny moment of intense happiness, light-heartedness, and exhilaration, of utter bliss. Simply seeing a downy feather floating on the breeze, hearing the familiar rustle of a bird foraging in the bushes near me, tasting the salt in the air as I crest the hill that separates me from the ocean, feeling the warmth from the sun glance off the water and bathe me in a little extra Vitamin D, or smelling the freshness of a small valley after a long-awaited rain can inflate my heart with uncomplicated happiness and love. These moments are not as visible or interpretable as the sad or difficult moments that friends and loved ones offer their support for.

What does this have to do with the Island Scrub Jay? Not all that much, except that they evoke a strong emotional response in me, the happy kind. I find peace in their existence. I feel the intensity of the blue light scattered from their feathers, from their chocolate brown eye as it investigates me. Not always, not every jay I see. Part of being an emotional person is that, thankfully, certain sensitivities are not always turned on or engaged, and they can be unpredictable. Sometimes a jay is just a jay, but other times a jay is a messenger of joy and love, a catalyst of deep self-reflection and connection to the earth. A glimpse of color flashing in the sun can send my emotions hurtling skyward for a moment, a sweet moment where I appreciate exactly where I am right then.

 The photos above are both Island Scrub Jay tail feathers above and below, also called rectrices (singular rectrix).

So, today, tomorrow, and everyday, I am thankful that I feel emotions strongly. I am thankful that my heart is beating. I am thankful for the people in my life whose hearts beat with mine. I am thankful for the birds surrounding me, thankful for their wing beats and heartbeats. I am thankful for dirt, and salt, and grime, for sticks and leaves, and dried up fall flowers. I’m thankful for breath, lungs to take it in, and the release I feel when I exhale. I am thankful for language to express my thoughts and feelings, and I am thankful for non-verbal language too, for body-language (however confusing it may be sometimes), for eye-language, smile-language, bird-language. I am thankful for my ancestors, my current kin, and the thought that there will be more down the line. I am thankful for my friends and co-workers, for helping me explore this world we all live in together, however different our experiences may be. And lastly, I am thankful that this earth exists and that I get to be a part of it: wind, sun, soil, rain, and love. Lots and lots of love.

Thankful for Forrest and Morgan's recent visit to the island. So happy!

Sunset over Santa Rosa Island, San Miguel even further behind to the right.