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Archive for the ‘Birds’ Category

Looking For – and Finding – Joy

Watching and drawing birds gives me joy.

“Joy is not in things; it is in us.” – Richard Wagner

Aging My Way

If ever there was a time to have joy in my life, it is now. For one thing, I’m an old broad who raised five children without disposable diapers. And since, as a retired newspaper journalist, I can’t find any joy in reading the news, I’m looking for it elsewhere.

The magic is that I don’t have to leave home to find it.

Take for instance just the past five days when I started keeping a joy journal.

Monday: Joy was waking up at dawn and watching an Anna’s hummingbird at my nectar feeder and listening to sparrows and finches twittering their own joy for a new day.

Tuesday: Joy was grinding some coffee beans from Kenya, a gift from my guardian angel daughter in law, and then enjoying a freshly brewed cup of coffee with a good book in my hand and my canine companion Scamp beside me.

Wednesday: Joy was having a good friend stop by for a happy hour, and the good cheer and laughter that came with the visit.

Thursday: Joy was the faithful daily call from a son and our conversation this day about a TV program we’re both watching and who won the daily game of Wordle.

Friday: Joy was a call from a long-time friend to discuss our upcoming road trip, my first since my heart attack a year and a half ago. And thinking about it after we hung up, my mind began singing Willie Nelson’s On The Road Again. At heart, I’m a wanderer.

I know these are simple, small things. But then the years have taught me that’s where joy is usually found.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

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A MacGillivray’s Warbler

“Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she hath wings.” – Victor Hugo

Aging My Way

Today’s Tucson Bird Alliance’s online newsletter featured a MacGillivray’s warbler, a small gray and yellow migratory bird that is currently passing through Southeastern Arizona.

It was one of the birds I specifically went hunting for during my early days of birding. I found it on July 1, 2004, at Tony Grove, a beautiful lake located at an altitude of 8,100 feet off Logan Canyon in Northern Utah.

I visited the grove many times after moving to the area for the first time in 1971, both for the area’s hiking trails and the opportunity to renew my sanity when life was stressful, as many of those earlier years were. And after an eight-mile roundtrip trail that led from Tony Grove to white Pine Lake, which I usually hiked, I always felt I could once again handle whatever life threw my way.

Nature has always done that for me.

But at 86, such a hike is out of the question. Both my balance and stamina have abandoned me. The best I can do is maybe a one-mile walk on level ground pushing my rollator before me and stopping at least a few times along the way.

Thankfully, I have my memories – and my stress level these days is pretty much zero. I also have lots of birds that visit my small patio yard. So, I’m going to keep an eye out for that MacGillivray’s.  

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

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Add Tucson’s Agua Calliente Park, where I saw this green heron, to the list of places to visit for beauty and birds. — Photo by Pat Bean

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.” – Confucius

Aging My Way

During the nine years I was traveling around America in a small RV with my canine companion Maggie, I was often asked what place I liked best. The question always had me stumbling for an answer. To name just one and leave out all the rest of Nature and man’s wonders just seemed wrong.

Everywhere, and I do mean everywhere, I went had its own kind of beauty. This was brought home to me at an overcrowded El Paso RV Park where I was parked on a cement slab with large RV rigs hooked up six feet away to both my right and left.

I was bemoaning the fact that I had been stuck here because nothing greener was close enough to reach before dark.  And then I happened to glance outside my RV window.

Strutting across the cement was a California Quail with six young chicks following her. The sight made me rethink my idea of beauty, especially since one goal of my RVing years was to see as many species of birds as I could.

Meanwhile, here are a few other special places I’ve visited that have impressed me in one way or another – and where I got a new bird for my life list.  

Maine: Acadia National Park, where one can stand on the top of Cadillac Mountain and be the first person in the United States to have the sun touch their face. I saw a black-billed cuckoo here.

New Hampshire: Flume Gorge, for an unforgettable hike and birds like an ovenbird and a black-throated blue warbler.

Oregon: Brandon National Wildlife Refuge, where my bird list grew by a pelagic cormorant, black turnstone and a whimbrel.  

Utah: Zion National Park, a longtime special place for me, and where I saw a California condor flying overhead. These birds were brought back from the edge of extinction and I wrote about their recovery several times.

Texas: Brazos Bend State Park, even if an alligator sometimes required me to detour off a favorite hiking trail. It was here where I saw my first pileated woodpecker, a close look-alike of the extinct ivory-billed woodpecker.

And I could easily list another 100 sites without much thought. Look around you. Beauty is everywhere.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. She also believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

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Life is Like That

Life is also full of birds if you just look. I didn’t start looking until I was 60. — Art by Pat Bean

“If you are too careful, you are so occupied in being careful that you are sure to stumble over something.” — Gertrude Stein

That’s exactly what happened to me this morning when I opened a new bag of coffee and poured it into a canister.

I always get a few grounds scattered about when I do this, but was determined it wasn’t going to happen this time.

Yup! You guessed it. I didn’t spill a few grounds; I spilled about half a cup of them.

Life is like that the years have taught me. So, after cleaning up the mess, I did the only logical thing to do. I laughed at myself.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. She also believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

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Yellow warblers sometimes visit my small yard. — Art by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

“Old age is something only the lucky get to do.”

I was surprised on a recent morning to realize I was sitting in my small patio yard – doing nothing. I had gone out to sit in a cool breeze and watch birds as I drank my morning cream-laced coffee.

But the wind was not gentle, typical for Tucson, and the birds had gone into sheltered hiding somewhere. Their absence barely resonated with me, until I finally realized how comfortable and peaceful I was just sitting there, a state of mind that is fairly new to me.

But I guess that is what happens when one is an 86-year-old broad. In my younger years there was a time I was so impatient to get from one place to another that I ran instead of walked. And my mind was always racing.

This morning when I sat outside with my coffee, birds were twittering all over the place. Amy Tan’s The Backyard Bird Chronicles, which I’m currently reading – and enjoying – inspired me to go inside and get a notebook and start my own chronicles. While my small patio yard doesn’t compare to Tan’s bird haven, I do have a tall cottonwood and two tall oleander bushes in it, plus a couple of bird feeders and one for hummingbird nectar.

As I watched and listened, house sparrows, verdins, lesser goldfinches, house finches, mourning and white-winged doves, Europeans starlings and a spotted grosbeak made their presence known. The bonus was a rose-breasted grosbeak that as far as I know was a first to visit my backyard.

I enjoyed this morning, too, — but not more I think then I did the one in which I simply sat quietly, with only my mind wandering about. It has never stopped racing.

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Male and Female Northern Cardinals

Aging My Way

“If your happiness depends on what somebody else does, I guess you do have a problem.” — Richard Bach

The older I get, the more I enjoy the little things life offers, like simply watching a pair of cardinals at my bird feeders. The scarlet male, with the morning sun making his feathers shimmer with light, was clinging to the side of one feeder while his red-fringed golden mate was sitting in a second one. I had a great view from where I sat at my computer jotting down my morning thoughts.

I also watched as a male mourning dove chased a female around the top of my wooden fence. It’s getting to be that time of year.

But I only noted the cardinals in the joy journal I keep, as I see mourning doves every day of the year. The doves don’t migrate and their visits to my small patio yard are a regular part of their daily routines, and I’ve noted their visitations numerous times.

Jotting things down in a joy journal reminds me of how blessed I am – even after suffering a heart attack. But then perhaps the heart attack was a blessing in disguise to make me realize how important the little things in life are:

Like a simple late-night walk with my canine companion Scamp while a cheshire-grinning sliver of a moon shines down on the two of us. Joy is a phone call from my kids and grandkids, and seeing photos of my distance great-grandkids getting a school award or enjoying themselves at Disneyland. It’s getting an invitation from my next-door granddaughter and her wife for a night out, and playing our favorite competitive card game of Frustration.

It’s a soak in a bath hot enough to turn my skin pink, or a new haircut.

Joy is a visit from my out-of-town brother, a neighbor dropping in for a beer and conversation, a good meal that I cooked myself, a visit to the library, my online writing chat group, the view I have each day of the Catalina Mountains, and of course the birds that visit my yard.

I’ve done the big stuff: Skiing down an Olympic run, interviewing presidents, going on an African safari, rafting through the Grand Canyon and spending nine years living and traveling all across this beautiful country in an RV.

I led an active life, and the memories I collected (well, at least most of them) give me joy. But now it’s my time to enjoy the little everyday things, like spending a whole day just reading a great book or simply watching my avian visitors.

There was no time for such things during earlier chapters of my life.

And while I do miss the adrenalin surges of the past, I’ve decided to follow Garth Brooks’ words: “Happiness isn’t getting what you want, it’s wanting what you got.”

And I got plenty.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion Scamp. She is an avid reader whose mind is always asking questions (many of which are unanswerable), an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for Story Circle Network’s Journal, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. She also believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

Bean Pat: If you want to check out birds, but none visit your yard, check out explore.org and watch some of their bird cams. My favorite is the one in Panama at Canopy Lodge. Cornell also has live bird cams for those who want to watch birds.

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Mr. Eastern Bluebird on my RV Mirror — Photo by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

When I was traveling around the country in a small RV with my canine companion Maggie, I awoke one morning to find a bluebird, the eastern species to be exact, perched on my RV mirror. It stuck around long enough for me to take its photo, actually seeming to pose for me.

This avian visitor started my morning with a smile of happiness before Maggie and I continued on our way driving down the Natchez Trace Parkway, a historical route that began as a path used by animals and Native Americans, then was adopted by the multitude who followed. The designated scenic parkway is now a 444-mile drive through history, traversing through Tennessee, Arkansas and Mississippi.

 The bluebird’s own history as a symbol of happiness is said to have begun with a Chinese myth that goes back thousands of years. It has been included in depictions of a fairy queen who was the protector of women who didn’t comply with role of females in a traditional Chinese family.

Nice myth, I thought, when I came across it while researching the origins of the bluebird’s symbolism. Native American folklore identifies the bluebird as a spirit in animal form associated with the rising sun, while Russian fairy tales see the bluebird as a symbol of hope.

The myths have inspired more modern days song writers to come up with such tunes as: Somewhere, over the rainbow, bluebirds fly, which Dorothy sang in The Wizard of Oz. Or There’ll be bluebirds over the White Cliffs of Dover, which the British sang during World War II – despite the fact bluebirds have never flown over those cliffs. Even the Beatles sang about the bluebird of happiness.

Not to forget poets, I came across 44 poems during my research that used the bluebird to represent happiness, such as this simple ditty by A.S. Waldrop: This bluebird is special/so cheery and merry too/ He’s here for just one reason/to bring happiness to you!

Ah! It’s nice myth. But, as I’m mostly a happy person, I believe that happiness comes from moving on from bad things and finding your own silver linings, be it a hug from a friend or a change of circumstance. At 85, I have plenty of experiences doing just that. I choose to be happy. As Barbara Kingsolver says about having the strength to go on during bad times: “You stand up at sunrise and meet what they send you, and keep your hair combed.”

Or, as I have been doing lately, keep your hair short enough that it doesn’t need to be combed.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader who always has many unanswered questions, an enthusiastic birder, Story Circle Network Journal staff writer, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining. And she believes one is never too old to chase a dream.

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When I was traveling the country with my canine companion Maggie, which I wrote my own book about, my RV was always full of books. Perhaps that is why I had a couple of flats while on the road.

Aging My Way

What I yearn for in books is good writing, surprise and depth. I also want to read books that teach me something new – and I want the good guys to win. Justice has become a dear thing to me.

That’s not asking too much, is it?

In my earlier years I gave an author 50 pages before I decided I wasn’t going to turn another page. Today, I only give them 25 pages. There are simply too many books out there to let myself be bored and uninterested.

Normally, there are five books on my reading stack, with bookmarks at different points among their pages. While I sometimes find a page-turner among them and finish the book in a day, other books are best enjoyed at a slower pace, especially ones that give me something to think about and savor.

I usually read about two books a week, with this including the audibles I listen to in bed at night – sometimes for hours when sleep won’t come.

I read all genres except horror and true crime, but mostly I favor fantasy, mystery, memoir and travels genres, as well as books about birds and nature. I prefer the feel of a book in my hand, but also read e-books. When I come across the title of a book that sounds interesting, I first check out my library, but Amazon and bookstores, new and used, also get a lot of my business.

It’s my belief that as long as I can afford a book, I’m not poor.

Meanwhile, in case you’re interested (you can always stop reading if I’m boring you), here’s a list of what I considered to be the best books I’ve read the past year:

 The House on the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune. And I’m currently reading the sequel, Somewhere Far Beyond the Sea.

Remarkable Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt.

The Best American Essays 2024.

The (Big) Year That Flew By by Arjan Dwarshuis, who in 365 days set a world record for seeing 6,853 species of birds, some of which are on the verge of extinction. If this book interests you, you should also read The Big Year by Mark Obmaksic, which I read way back in 2005.

The Kingslake and D.C. Smith series by Peter Grainger. These books were free on Audible, and an unexpected and wonderful find.

A Short Walk Through a Wide World by Douglas Westerbeke.

The Armor of Light, by Ken Follett, continuing the Kingbridge series. Follet’s always a great read.

The Rise of Wolf 8 by Rick McIntyre. A great book about the Yellowstone wolves.

The Inspecter Gamache series by Louise Penny. I’m currently reading A Better Man, which is 15th in the series. Penny is a great writer, but justice doesn’t always win in her books, and so they keep me grounded to the real world.

Happy Reading.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

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Aging My Way

I’m at a crossroads. I’m worried about the world, especially attempts to silence a free press while anyone can deliberately speak untruths on the internet. It’s already a mine field trying to figure out what’s the truth and what’s not. People shouldn’t believe everything they hear or read.

Let me repeat that: People shouldn’t believe everything they hear or read. In these days, double and triple checking everything is a must. Even so, what I’m seeing and hearing for the days ahead has my head in a tailspin. I just want to stick my head in the sand and let the world pass me by.

I mean I’m 85 and retired. I could just bury myself in books, art, birding, friends who don’t talk politics and other things that give me pleasure. Why not? I often feel useless because I have no power to make the world a kinder place.

And then, while I’m reading, I come across Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem Ulysses in which he wrote about growing old: “How dull it is to pause, to make an end,/ To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!” And I realize I’m still not ready to turn the world off.

Suddenly my rabbit hole emerges to a time when I discovered Lord Byron’s poem, The Prisoner of Chillon. I wouldn’t know for another 15 years that I was destined to be a writer, but the ancient sounding words, or so they seemed to a 10-year-old, enchanted me. I memorized that lengthy poem, simply because I loved the sound of its words. Many of those words, I still remember 75 years later:   My very chains and I grew friends,/ So much a long communion tends/ To make us what we are:—even I/ Regain’d my freedom with a sigh.

I love the freedom of being retired and yet I miss being chained to the feeling of being useful.

By now, well down that rabbit hole, I contemplate these two poems by authors that younger generations have most likely never heard of, and I’m back at that crossroads – and Robert Frost’s words about that road not taken.

Finally, I laugh at myself. Who says that road can’t be taken on another day? And who says I can’t still keep one foot in the world around me and try myself to be kinder, and the other foot in books and birds and art and pleasant friends.

Perhaps there is no crossroads at all – just plodding on.

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.

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As if by magic, a lakeside campground often turned up during my nine years of living and traveling on the road exploring this beautiful country. — Photo of my RV Gypsy Lee resting at Jackson State Park in Alabama by Pat Bean

Aging My Way

          When I was traveling around the country in my small RV, I almost never took the direct route from place to place. An interesting looking side road always seemed more important than the destination where I was headed.

My mother told me this was a trait I had gotten from a grandfather who died before I was old enough to remember him. “He could never pass up a turnoff,” she told me on one of our back-roading trips to Jenny Lake in the Tetons, a place she fell in love with the first time she saw it.

 Judging by how she enjoyed taking different routes to get there, I could just as easily have inherited it from her. I think that quite likely, because promising her a road trip to the Tetons was often the bribe that I had to make to get her to visit me from her home in Illinois to my home in Northern Utah, where Yellowstone was only a five-hour drive away.

My mother and I made many of those trips in her later years. I treasure every one of them, but especially those in which we got off the beaten path. There’s magic in driving down a road not knowing what you are going to see, especially when you stop and explore along the way.

 As Ursula K Le Guin said, and I believe, “It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters.

As I ponder Le Guin’s words, I think of the journey I’ve been taking for the past 85 years. The destination I’ve arrived at is far from the one I envisioned when I took those first wobbly and uncertain steps along an expected path. Detours along the way — some forced and some on purpose – have put me where I am today.

And since I’ve come to a place where I have love, friends, a lovable canine companion who keeps my life interesting, and a continuing zest for nature and life, the detours along this hard-won journey surely must have had some magic in them.

What do you think?  

Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, staff writer for the Story Circle Network Journal, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited). She is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.

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