November birds

Odd bird

Found my eraser. It was in a very dusty spot under a chair.

I identified a weird mystery bird this afternoon. My sister and I always see the same enormous, odd-looking mutant duck during our river walks. (Significant feature: gross puffy red and black skin on its face.) We stare and speculate until the bird starts to look nervous, then we back away vowing to return with a camera. Today after a judicious Google search I discovered our odd bird is a wild Muscovy duck--not a mutation resulting from a chemical spill but the result of hundreds of years of domestic inbreeding. This is all my bird book has to say about the Muscovy: "Interbreeding produces a bewildering variety of plumages and sizes; some bear little resemblance to the parent species." Thanks, David Allen Sibley.

I didn't used to think birds were interesting at all, but now I find them fascinating. The natural world is amazing.

Here's another drawing from the weekend. (I know the seventeenth wasn't a weekend day for most people, but it was for me. I had Friday off so my weekend began Thursday after work. Hurrah!)

Title: You can only sit on this couch with me if there's room for you. Which there isn't.

Owl

How is your weekend, dearest reader?

I've been relaxing with an orange and a mystery novel after a long day of work. Later this evening I'm going to my book club meeting bearing an honest-to-goodness box of Turkish Delight.

Remember when the Snow Queen seduced Edmund into her sleigh with a box of Turkish Delight? 

Each piece was sweet and light to the very centre and Edmund had never tasted anything more delicious.

I think she seduced me, too.

P.S. Bon voyage, dearest Owl.

A river walk

The last time I took my camera to the river it looked like this:

All of the snow and most of the ice had melted and it was gorgeously flooded.

Today the river is several feet lower. It's verdant and full of wildlife. I saw several geese on urgent missions and lots of small birds wheeling and diving for insects. I also came across this bird on the far bank:

A Great Blue Heron! Can you see it? I think if you click on the image it'll be easier.

I watched it wade cautiously at the water's edge for a long time. Its neck straightened, then curved into an s-shape. Its long breast feathers shifted in the wind. It stared at the river intently but nothing happened. I was literally on the edge of my toes and so close to the water I was almost in it.

See here. One inch closer and I'd be in the river.

After a long wait the heron changed its mind and flew to better hunting grounds farther downstream. I followed it, but my camera ran out of batteries just when things were getting interesting. A small family of ducks interrupted the heron's concentration! And it caught a fish!

I'm glad my camera battery died, because I always forget to really look at what I'm seeing when I'm focusing on it through my lens.

I took notes today. And I found these fossils:

I visit this river a lot, but I'd like to find new places to explore.

Where do you go when you want to see a bit of nature? I'm interested.

Note: I removed the image of the heron flying. It had to go.

Birds

I found something strange this morning. Just before it flew away I managed to snap a shot:

A bird in my hair!

I've always wanted to know what birds sing about when the hour is early and the air is cold and blue. It seems like an enormous racket to make over the rising of the sun, which happens every day, after all. And why don't they sing when it rains? And how do you make them your friends, so that they'll flutter round your head and perch on your shoulder whenever you like? I took this opportunity to ask.

What do you sing about, bird?

Oh really? That's awfully poetic of you.

I think it's probably more like this:

Well, who wouldn't sing about sunflower seeds? They're delicious.