Learning to FLY

The most common bird around here is the long tailed grackle. They look like blackbirds and are quite big as birds go -- bigger than bluejays and cardinals. The females don't have the long tail and they are brown, joining most females in the bird world who have have less visual pizzaz than their men. The boys' feathers have a distinct deep blue sheen to their black plumage, iridesent like an opal. They don't hop, they strut. They are really sharp too... they may look nonchalant, but they know when you're around and if you toss a crumb or seed their way they're on it immediately and in a flash, back for more.

Until we moved in mid February, we lived on the 6th floor of a high rise, just above a row of trees. When Spring came they became grackle condos, their boughs swaying with found twigs, the mothers tucking the edges just so while the fathers held court high on an outer limb, emitting their strange mechanical caw. Every morning, you'd hear the chatter rise with the sun. I am NOT a morning person but many dawns found me on the porch with binoculars watching these things with the awe of a child. In all my years, somehow I'd managed to miss this going on around me. I could peek into several grackle nests and every now and then be treated to seeing the babies pop their heads up. But I never saw them leave the nest or learn to fly because the trees leaves grew too full by that time.

Yesterday I had to kill time waiting for the zoo to open. I noticed a racket going on over head and looked up to see two females fighting in the tree I stood beneath. They separated for a moment on different branches, then collided again, then separated still squawking at each other. I noticed a small grayish -brown, rather furry looking thing a bit higher up, partially obscured by leaves. It was very still. I was trying to figure out what it was, when one of the females flew past my face to the fence post beyond my shoulder. As I was turning to look at her, the fuzzy little thing swooped down along the same path in a bit of a zig zag and made an unsteady landing on the top wire of the fence itself. It was clearly a bird, but one that I'd never seen before. It had wings but the feathers were choppy, like how your bangs turned out if you tried to cut them yourself when you're seven. It was more plump than long, and it had a tail but it looked like a cat had taken a bite out of it.

Within 10 seconds the female grackle took a short flight from the post to the closest branch and the little bird followed more confidently. This time it managed to pick a branch more quickly, grabbed hold with it's little claws and landed. Just then the adult took off for a slightly higher branch, and the little one followed. I realized I was watching a mother giving her fledgling flying lessons.

Within the hour I saw two more fluffy babies sitting on branches, presumably near their nests, feeling the breeze and taking life in, with the safety of their mother perched close by. It just could not believe I saw three in one day after two years of watching daily for from my patio and on my many walks in the park and never seeing a one!

How magical it is to be this engaged in and delighted by L-I-F-E. Nature has done it's thing for centuries, but I feel new to it all, just like the fledgelings. I've traveled the world, and had the privilege to do a lot of very interesting, exciting and meaningful things. As I approach the half-century mark in my own, little lifetime, how amazing that it all comes back down to the things that are simplest and smallest.

Thank you to birdfeeders 101 for this borrowed picture.

First Day at the Zoo

Today was my first day volunteering at the Zoo. I was so excited to get my official polo shirt with the Zoo logo (which I paired with the requisite Kakhi pants and hiking boots). This weekend they were celebrating Earth Day, and I signed up to work the Orangutan booth.

I guess they trade off who, from a large group of O's, is in the habitat at given time. This day there was mother, her 4 year old baby boy and the father. Usually the father has nothing much to do with his offspring, and the baby is pretty clingy for the first few years of life. But this father, imposing as he was with his big face and his long reddish dreadlocks and giant hands, had lot of interaction with his son. The baby clearly adored him and went back to him over and over. After a period of Sunday morning grouchiness, the dad finally accepted the baby's advances.

It was odd how human they were। After a bit of Dad pushing the baby as he tried to do somersaults, they just sat and held hands। Then baby put on a sparkly silver sequin dress part way and paraded around for a moment or two before it was thrown on the ground. Sometimes he picked up one of the turtles that live in their little pond and carried it around like a football. He does this often enough that his mother was trained to turn the turtles right side up, as her little boy tended to put them down any which way and they'd be stuck. She was given a treat for this task. The keepers told me that sometimes she'd go turn the turtles upside down herself just to turn them back over for a treat.

Two things made my day. I hadn't been there for more than 10 minutes before the baby walked up to me standing in front of his habitat. I squatted down to his eye level, as he was just about the size of a human 4 year old, and put my hand up on the glass. He put his hand up right against mine. Regardless of the inch of foreign matter between our palms I felt the connection.

Later, I noticed the Dad had come to the glass and was staring out. The Staff Guy who ran the booth told me that the Orangutan would like it if I showed him something and handed me a conservation pamphlet to use. Again I got face to face and held up the pamphlet. The big guy took his time, first looking me deeply in the eyes. I held his gaze until he shifted his attention to what I was holding. There was a picture of an Orangutan on the front, which I pointed out. Then I ran my fingers along the large lettering and said what it said. On the back there were some bright colors, so I flipped it over and showed him that. He took it all in. I found it amusing to think of myself basically as Primate TV.

We sold raffle tickets for two paintings done by Orangutans. There are many animals that paint but the O's actually pick their colors (very well, I might add) and when they're done, they push the canvas back to you. Amazing creatures!

What a wonderful beginning!

The Only Big Cat That Likes Water

Thursday I walked through the zoo, which is just past the park we usually walk around. I have a membership and decided it's an easy way to stretch our exercise time to just sail through the gates and circle around whatever interests me. It's a big motivator when the scenery offers elephants, flamingos, bears, seals, raptors and lions.















It had been sprinkling and overcast, so the place was blissfully quiet and cool, unpopulated save for a few families, and thus free of the attendant chaos. The live oak trees --common to this area --with their incredibly long, low reaching limbs with fresh, shiny new leaves of spring fully unfurled on every branch created a protective canopy over my head. I  kept up my pace past twin cheetah kittens and the giraffes. But I was stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of one of the two brother Malaysian tigers swimming his little lake.


Seems no matter what time of day I visit, the big cats are all sleeping. But there was the gorgeous, regal head of this creature, with it's bright orange fur slashed by jet black stripes, gliding smoothly though the darkened water.

His eyes were bright and blue. His thick paws were visible, paddling rhythmically, pushing him along on a diagonal and very deliberate path from one end to the other. He then climbed out, slinked across the grass past rocks and around trees to return to his starting point. Again he'd climb right in, and all but his paws would disappear as his body sank into the depths. His shoulder muscles were further defined with every stroke. Amid all this majesty, something cute: his tongue stuck out as he did it.

(click picture to enlarge)

I positioned myself (where I took the pic above) right in his sight lines. Here he swam VERY close to me. On one pass he made direct, proplonged eye contact. It was nothing short of chilling! This ain't no kitty, but a beautiful beast with quite humbling power -- a killing machine -- and there was only a short flimsy fence and an electrical deterrent between us.

Googling Geese

Last night I couldn't sleep so I sat up researching to see if I could identify what Mr. and Mrs. Goose (and the new pair) are and if the orange billed goose is different... I have also been wondering about their mating and parenting cycles. 

I've been involved with Mr. and Mrs. Goose for about 2 years now and they have never had a chick, as far as I've seen. I think they settle in at night on the small island in the middle of the lake so I've never been able to see if Mrs. G has ever laid an egg, even if it didn't hatch. When I first spotted Mr. G, he was alone all the time. He was so big and regal, I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight and ever after, sought him out in my walks.  I always found him standing around, the only one of his kind, usually in one of two grassy areas on the park shore. 

One day --the first day I brought bread and Husband realized the goose would eat from his hand -- he swam out to greet us with a lovely gander. I didn't know if this was a new mate and he was no longer a bachelor or if she'd been around all this time and I'd only caught him on his solo forays.   24 months and many interactions later, I've only seen them apart once, so I got to thinking that maybe she had been sitting on a nest back then. If that was so, I never saw any babies. You figure eventually they would get big enough to come out and swim, learn to eat and fly before they might head to parts unknown.  But there are few baby ducks who survive of the MANY that are born year round. I'm still trying to figure out who the predators are.  Maybe these big geese's babes are no less immune to whatever fate befalls the rest.

Looks like they're called Chinese Geese, due to many distinctions, the most prominent being the unusual knob they sport on their beaks.  (pls. excuse the piece of bread sticking out of his)

Still working on the orange billed bird.