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Archive for the ‘Birds’ Category

 “The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a suggestion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of the scale, so vehement and intense his life … The beautiful vagabonds, endowed with every grace, masters of all climes, and knowing no bounds – how many human aspirations are realized in their free, holiday lives – and how many suggestions to the poet in their flight and song!” – John Burroughs

Delightful, Colorful, Awesome Birds

Great blue heron at Lake Arrowhead State Park -- Photo by Pat Bean

From the Bullock oriole’s flash of bright orange feathers as it flew across my path to the Canada geese that strutted down to the lake, birds were constantly making their presence known during my visit to Texas’ Lake Arrowhead State Park.

For an avid birder like myself, it was better than my favorite Jack-in-the-Box chocolate milkshake high — and came without the calories.

Mockingbirds were plentiful, making my mind play tricks on me when I saw one that didn’t quite fit in. I was thinking it might have been a tropical mockingbird, but then this quite-out-of-place species was on my mind from reports of one of them being seen in Texas’ Sabine Woods. I certainly wasn’t sure enough of my find to add it to my life list of birds.

Canada geese strutted across the manicured lawn near the fishing pier, making it easy to photograph them. I wish I had been able to capture the flock that had honked their way overhead earlier in the morning. But as I remind people often, I'm a writer not a photographer, and the only camera I own is a pocket Canon point and shoot. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I saw a great blue heron at the fish-cleaning station near the park’s fishing pier, but before I could get a picture,  it flew away. It landed in the lake on the opposite side of the pier and began fishing for its breakfast.

When I looked at it through my binoculars at it,  I saw a dozen or so spotted sandpipers cruising the shoreline in front of it, and a yellowlegs a bit farther out in the water. It had to have been a lesser yellowlegs because it was too close in size to the sandpipers to be a greater.

As I continued to watch the sandpipers, a red-winged blackbird flew in beside them. Its shoulder epaulets were so brilliantly red that they made my heart skip a beat.

Grackles, robins, snowy and great egrets, swallows (cave, I think), killdeer, scissor-tailed flycatchers and circling turkey vultures were among the many other birds at the park that I saw.

While I suspect the park is mostly favored by fishermen, it’s now on this birders list of favorite places, too.

Bean’s Pat: Trees for Arbor Day http://tinyurl.com/crhxqtu For tree huggers like me, a slide show from the National Wildlife Federation.

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“…On the road again

goin’ places that I’ve never been

Seein’ things that I may never see again

And I can’t wait to get on the road again …”

Purple mountain majesties -- Photo by Pat Bean

Me, Pepper and Willie Nelson

I’m a big Willie Nelson fan, and there’s nothing better than slipping his “On the Road Again’ tune into my CD player when I take off for someplace new. I’ll do just that later this morning when Pepper, my new canine traveling companion and I began to take leave of Texas.

I have 18 days to travel 1,300 miles to my destination. This means I can, as Frank Sinatra, sang: “Do It My Way.” And my way is slow and easy with lots of stops to take in this beautiful country.

 Just thinking about the sights I’ll see already has another tune whirling through my brain. This one is the song  I believe should be our national anthem, “America, The Beautiful:”

When i see flowers survivng harsh conditions to give us their beauty, I think of the tough times we Americans are facing these days, and gain confidence that we're tough enough to take it -- and survive. -- Photo by Pat Bean

“O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of gain; for purple mountain majesties, above the fruited plain! America! America. God shed his grace on thee, and crown they good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea…

These word easily bring tears to my eyes.  I’m so very blessed in that I have seen this country from sea to shining sea. I’ve seen its amber waves of grain and its majestic mountains.”

So now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pack up and Me. Pepper and Willie Nelson will get on the road again to see it some more.

Bean’s Pat: 10,000 Birds, http://tinyurl.com/87y7am3 Montana landscapes and the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge.

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“An essential aspect of creativity is not being afraid to fail.” – Edwin Land

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” – Sylvia Plath

Great blue heron hunting for its dinner along the Anhinga Trail in the Everglades.

Two Photographs

When I haven’t a clue as to what I’m going to write about, I first turn to my list of potential blog topics.

That didn’t work this time. In fact it might be time for me to clean up the long list as I didn’t understand half my suggestions. Bright ideas, I’ve discovered, often lose meaning if left stagnating too long.

There is also the fact that what you write one day will never be the same thing you will write about the next day. Our perceptions about the meaning of life, or whatever, are constantly changing. Knowing this, I think, is why I’m such a fanatic journal keeper.

"Won't you step into my Everglades parlor?" -- Photo by Pat Bean

Anyway, with my written list failing me, I turned to my photographs and came across two that actually turned on the electricity in my brain. One was of an alligator lying in wait for a meal, and the other was of a great blue heron quietly waiting for its dinner to come into reach.

The differences had me thinking how all living things on this planet have the same needs. And about where each of the species fit in the food chain.

The two photos also spoke to me of patience, a thing I seriously lack. Without a bit of patience, neither of these species would have their next meal.

Then I thought of the different reactions the two photos would elicit from viewers. Oohs and aahs for the heron of course, and probably some yucks for the alligator. When I post a photo of one of these reptiles I usually get an e-mail from a daughter-in-law telling me not to get too close.

Putting two unlike things together, according to some of the self-help books I’ve read, is a good way to spark one’s creativity. I haven’t done it much, but I’m now convinced I should do it more. I mean it got me off the hook for today’s blog.

Now I’m curious as to readers’ reactions to the two photos. Tell, please.

Bean’s Pat: A Word in Your Ear; http://tinyurl.com/74zt46m For those of us who miss too many sunsets.

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Egrets
 
Where the path closed
down and over,
through the scumbled leaves,
fallen branches,
through the knotted catbrier,
I kept going. Finally
I could not
save my arms
from thorns; soon
the mosquitoes

This great egret regally watched all the comings and goings from its perch aboard a boat at a Key West, Florida, dock. -- Photo by Pat Bean

smelled me, hot
and wounded, and came
wheeling and whining.
And that’s how I came
to the edge of the pond:
black and empty
except for a spindle
of bleached reeds
at the far shore
which, as I looked,
wrinkled suddenly
into three egrets – – –
a shower
of white fire!
Even half-asleep they had
such faith in the world
that had made them – – –
tilting through the water,
unruffled, sure,
by the laws
of their faith not logic,
they opened their wings
softly and stepped
over every dark thing.

        — Mary Oliver
 
Snoweys, Greats, and Cattle
 

Snowy egret on left, great egret on right, northern shoveler in the water in Texas' Rio Grande Valley. -- Photo by Pat Bean

When I first became one of those crazy birders, it was easy to identify a snowy egret, which for a long time was the only egret that I saw.  They were these tall, white, graceful birds with a long, slender black bill, and black legs with golden-yellow feet, which I liked to think of as their slippers.  I saw these delightful shorebirds just about anywhere there was water when I lived in Northern Utah.

 
The next egret I saw was a shorter, chunkier one that looked like parts of its body had been dipped in liquid wheat. occasionally I would see one with a wheat-colored crest, which I learned was its breeding cap. These were cattle egret, and wandering around a herd of the four-legged critters were where you almost always found them.
 
It took me a long while before I saw a great egret in Northern Utah, although when I traveled east of the Rockies, this was suddenly the most common egret I started seeing. It’s a tall, lanky bird with a long, slender yellow bill and black legs and feet.
 
Egrets, well the snowy and the great since the cattle egret didn’t migrate to America until the 1950s, were the inspiration for the creation of the Audubon Society. The main purpose of the conservation organization, of which I’m a proud member, when it was first formed was to protect the egrets from extinction. They were being killed by the thousands simply to provide fanciful plumes for women’s hats.
 
Tsk! Tsk! I’d like to think we vain females know better these days. Most of us do, I believe.  
 
Bean’s Pat: Serenity Spell http://tinyurl.com/6wgdtdd Since it’s a bird day, read all about red-winged blackbirds.
 

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“Wilderness begins in the human mind.” Edward Abbey

The Poteau River

Letting the worries about tomorrow and finding help for my ailing RV, Gypsy Lee,go, I watched as a great egret fished for its dinner on the opposite bank of the Poteau River. -- Photo by Pat Bean

It was late evening when I arrived at Lake Wister State Park, a place of refuge for the night while I pondered my first on-the-road crisis in my RV, Gypsy Lee.

I watched the sun as it sank beneath the horizon and allowed it and the river to soothe my soul. I felt grateful just to be alive. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The crisis turned out to be simply a need for new brake pads. The pads, however, had to be specially ordered, which gave me three days to enjoy the park.

The first night, a Sunday when all the places that could service my RV were closed, began as a tense one at the park, where I had parked below the dam beside the Poteau River.

A walk along the river with my canine traveling companion just as the sun was bidding a good-night to all on this side of the world with a pink glowing sky, massaged away the tension in my body.

Mother Nature has a way of doing that to me. Despite my RV woes, it’s a night that I remember fondly.

Bean’s Pat: Mike’s Look at Life http://m5son.wordpress.com A gentle landscape and thoughtful blog that lets me see the world through fresh eyes.

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“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.” George Eliot

Lake Claiborne, Issac Creek Campground, Alabama -- Photo by Pat Bean

Issac Creek Campground

http://pixilatedtoo.wordpress.com commented that she was new to Alabama, and looked forward to reading more about Alabama parks after reading yesterday’s blog about the state’s Frank Jackson State Park.

I’m happy to oblige, especially since my brain is in a can’t-think-of-what-to-write-about fog this morning.

The  Issac Creek Campground on Lake Claiborne near Monroeville is a Corps of Engineers’ facility, which meant I could use my Golden Age Passport and camp for half-price, which in 2006 when I stayed there was just $8 a night for a site by the lake.

Maggie at Lake Claiborne. I can now look at photos of my beloved pet and recall memories of our good times together instead of crying. Well, almost. -- Photo by Pat Bean

The park, which had been recommended to me by two fishing enthusiasts from Louisiana, was awesomely scenic and pleasant – and well off the beaten path. I got lost several times before I finally found it.

I asked a park staff volunteer why it wasn’t listed in my Trailer Life campground directory. The answer was that the Corps of Engineers couldn’t advertise and compete with commercial parks.

I did, however, learn that I could purchase a book listing all Corps’ campgrounds from Cottage Publications (PO Box 2832, Elkhart, Indiana, 46515). I did and it now sits alongside my other campground directories.

Following is a few bits and pieces from my journal during the three days my canine traveling companion, Maggie, who died last month, and I stayed at the park:

A walk along Issac Creek was always a delight. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Saucy squirrels are everywhere, and while the species of birds aren’t numerous, each one seems special. I heard a cackling rumble, and back-tracked it to a red-bellied woodpecker…

Blue jays seem to be everywhere, and delightful to watch as they swoop back and forth above the lake. One actually rippled the water while playing this game, sending sunlit droplets splashing into the air…

This morning there was a hazy mist over the lake that broke to reveal a blue canvas on which was painted an echo of the fall dressed trees on the opposite shore…

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all” – Stanley Horowitz

Lake Claiborne is a fantastic place to be in the autumn. The days are warm and pleasant and the nights cool enough to warrant snuggling up in a quilt at night, which is how I sleep best ….

I learned today that female pine cones are fatter than their male counterparts and have harder scales. Well, that explains why we ladies have wider hips then men and an inner toughness that has nothing to do with brawn …  

On the morning of my third day at Lake Claiborne, and after receiving a phone call the night before from my granddaughter, I said a reluctant good-bye to this great Corps of Engineers campground. Heidi wanted me to meet her in Shreveport, La., for her 24th birthday, which was less than a week away. I enthusiastically accepted the invitation and replotted my journey’s route.

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” A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.” – James Dent.

An absolutely perfect morning at Agua Caliente Park in Tucson. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Audubon Bird Walk

As I often do when traveling around the country, I check out what the local Audubon chapter has on its activity calendar.

Here in Tucson, where I’m currently squatted visiting my youngest daughter, that included a bird walk this morning at the city’s Agua Caliente Park. My daughter, although not a birder, accompanied me.

It was a beautiful place to walk, with manicured lawns, ponds and desert-landscaped gardens.

Everyone took a little break from birdwatching to watch the turtles. -- Photo by Pat Bean

My bird list for the day included great-tailed grackles, vermilion flycatchers, yellow-rumped and Lucy warblers, lesser goldfinch, a verdin, mallards, Gambel’s quail, turkey vulture, Cooper’s hawk, northern cardinal, northern beardless-tryannulet, curved-bill thrasher, cactus wren, common raven, cedar waxwing, chipping sparrow and red-winged blackbird.

The most oohed an aaahed-over bird was a green-tailed towhee, which was passing through on its migration farther north. I, however, was more impressed with the Abert’s towhee. Although a much plainer bird, it was the only one among the day’s find that was a life bird for me.

It’s a common bird that sticks around all year in the Tucson area but can’t be found much outside of Arizona. It brought my life list of bird species seen up to 701.

How could it have been anything but a perfect morning?

Bean’s Pat: 400 Days ‘Til 40 http://tinyurl.com/cohgl7p   It’s OK to cry. I agree, perhaps because I’ve recently done a lot of it. And there was nothing anyone could do to make things better, except to simply be there for me.

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The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
And I must follow, if I can,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say —
J.R.R, Tolkien

Listening to the Planet’s Pulse

A jet paints the desert sky with its contrail. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Yesterday, if you look at it the way I tend to do, was a wasted day. Nothing on my daily to-do list, including blogging, was accomplished.

I woke up in a mood to do nothing, and nothing I did. At my age, when more of my life is behind me than ahead of me, wasted days frighten me.

But today I awoke refreshed, ready to once again try to give my life meaning. I began it with a short hike here in the fresh desert air above Tucson. As I walked I realized yesterday was not wasted. I had needed just such a day and it was time I stopped feeling guilty about taking it.

Am I contemplating this northern cardinal, or is the bird contemplating me? -- Pat Bean

Then I started truly noticing my surroundings in a different way. The saguaro cactus weren’t simply cactus; they were homes for wildlife, shade for them, too, when the desert sun-scorched the earth.

I listened to the hum of the city around me. I felt the earth beneath me beat with the sound of traffic on distant highways, and watched as a jet flew overhead, marking the sky with its contrail. There was a part of me that longed for the absolute silence I’ve heard only once in my life.

That occurred in Utah’s Escalante wilderness when a photographer and I drove the Burr Trail for a newspaper story we were writing and photographing. I was amazed how still the earth had been back then, realizing how noisy a simple refrigerator’s hum could be.

But this day, I also enjoyed the feeling of being a part of the pulsing world from which I had tried to escape yesterday. What a difference a day makes.

Bean’s Pat: To Write is to Write http://tinyurl.com/72lmlwy This is a blog I could have written with only minor changes. It made me laugh. I chose it two days ago, and now I wonder if it influenced my yesterday. P.S. Thanks Jim http://notyethere.wordpress.com/  for sending me Tolkien’s quote.

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More About Maine

“I felt like I’d been misplaced in the cosmos and belonged in Maine … I had to live this long, have the experiences I’ve had, to create what I do. I knew I wanted to write for years, but I had to be ready so I wouldn’t blow it. The move to Maine was the final step. ” — Terry Goodkind

Travels With Maggie

Acadia National Park -- Photo by Pat Bean

Yesterday’s blog of a simply photograph, quote and my Bean’s Pat was a throw away, the kind of blog I write when I need a break from writing.

The comments it brought, however, got me thinking more about Maine and the nine days I spent there. The trip was part of a six-month, 23-states-and-Canada, 7,000-mile journey I made in 2006. It was my first time in New England.

I dawdled along the way, so that far too many of Maine’s birds that I wanted to see had already migrated by the time I reached Bar Harbor, Maine. I saw only eight new life birds of the twenty or so I had expected to find. And a storm blew up the day I was supposed to go whale watching.

Other than those annoyances, everything else about my Maine stay was perfect.

Bar Harbor streetscape. While I missed the birds, I caught the town's off season serenity. -- Photo by Pat Bean

One of the nicest things about my stay just outside of Bar Harbor was the free shuttle bus that stopped at my campground every half hour or so, and which took me all over Mount Desert Island, including Acadia National Park while my canine traveling compainion, Maggie, stayed behind in the RV.

The park is full of natural wonders to explore. One of these was Cadillac Mountain, the highest summit on the East Coast north of Rio de Janeiro, and the first spot in the mainland states to be hit by the morning sun in the fall and winter.

I was on its summit one dawn to catch that first ray of rosy light. I laughed, but to myself, when one guy standing nearby spotted a herring gull and got all excited because he thought he had seen a bald eagle. No reason I thought to extinguish his excitement. Later in the day I did see a bald eagle soaring over the park. I hope that guy also saw it.

As replacement for the canceled whale tour, I took a trolley tour of the island. Our guide was full of facts and trivia, such as President William Howard Taft’s 27 strokes on the Kebo Valley Golf Club’s 17th hole back in 1910, and the fact that scenes for the Dark Shadows TV soap opera had occasionally been filmed on Mount Desert.

Hopefully the next time I’m in Maine – a revisit is definitely on my to-do list – I’ll arrive before the birds have migrated south.

Bean’s Pat: All Write: Spring and the Cigarettus Smokerus http://tinyurl.com/7ox9d76 As an avid bird watcher, I laughed my head off at this. But, warning, if you don’t have a sense of humor some among you may find this offensive and sexist.

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“There come a time when you have to stand up and shout: This is me … I look the way I look, think the way I think, feel the way I feel … I am a whole complex package .. Do not try to make me feel like less of a person just because I don’t fit your idea of who I should me.” – Stacey Charter

Travels With Maggie

 

This award was started in 2008 by Norwegian, Hulda Husfrue, or so I've read.

Michelle Gilles at Silk Purse Productions Blog (how to make silk purses out of a sow’s ear) nominated me for a Kreative Blogger award. Thank you Michelle at: http://silkpurseproductions.wordpress.com

I’ll use my Bean’s Pat to play it back. This “Pat” on the back goes to my personal choice of the best blog of the day. My choices are eclectic and I hope my readers have been checking them out.

As part of the acceptance. I’m supposed to tell you seven things about myself that you might not already know. I’ve done this before, but this part’s actually fun, especially trying to think of things my blabber-fingers haven’t already told you. So here goes.

Miss Clairol’s Nice and Easy, No. 99 has been my friend for umpteen years. My original color was dishwater blonde. I haven’t the foggiest idea what color it is these days because I try hard to never let my roots show.

I stuck into college without ever graduating from high school, just one among many ways I’ve lived my life backwards.

OK. I admit it. I'm a tree-hugging flower child who believes that some day this planet will be a peaceful place to live. -- Photo by a stranger sharing my day at Custer State Park in South Dakota.

I’m a prolific reader of just about everything – including cereal boxes, bumper stickers, roadside signs and blogs — with the exception of horror. When much younger I watched a Vincent Price horror flick – Murders at the Wax Museum I think it was called, and spent the next year expecting a missing head to turn up in my washing machine every time I opened the lid.

I once zoomed up behind a police car doing 100 mph while driving between Salt Lake City and Wendover, Nevada. I thought I was only doing 70 until I looked down at the speedometer. I’m not sure why I didn’t get a ticket. Perhaps the officer was day-dreaming.

I was 37 years old before alcohol of any kind touched my lips, well if you don’t count my grandmother’s beer, which I’ve been told I stole and drank when I was 3 years old.

I’m speaking tonight at a Blue and Gold Banquet for my daughter’s Cub Scout Pack on Compassion for Animals. I’m going to play the wolf howl-video that I mentioned on yesterday’s blog.

I’ve been living and traveling now in a small RV with my canine traveling companion, Maggie, for over seven years. By the end of this year I should have visited all 50 states. I did Hawaii and Alaska in earlier days, just FYI.

Now I’d love it if my readers would tell me something quirky about themselves.

Bean’s Pat: 10,000 Birds http://10000birds.com Great blog for anyone who likes birds, especially if you’re passionate about them — like me.

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