Quiet Saturday Morning - Old Men and Birds

Larry the Handyman

I keep telling myself I need to hang around out in front of our house to see how different the birds are there than in the backyard - I confirmed today that would be a wise birding strategy. The gutter along the highest part of our roof was nearly blown away by the high winds a week ago Friday, and the handyman was by today to fix it. We have had a hard time finding someone to do jobs like this for us, but our neighbor had a flier that was left on his mailbox some time back - I wrote down the number and gave Larry a call and a try. He checked out the damage last week, and said he would come by and fix it today - for $150. I decided a long time ago there are limits to my handiness, and that the skilled workman is well worth her/his wages - I have given up trying to do "quick" jobs myself that end up costing more than hiring them out. (1) While Larry went up and down a very tall ladder and we chatted, I brought out the binoculars and camera and noted what birds were making their way among the trees and neighbors' houses from a vantage point where I rarely take the time to watch. Along with friendly chatter:  learning that we both moved to the area in January 2006 and agreeing that trim paint on house exteriors and complimentary colors in large interior rooms always look better than a single colors; I took a quick inventory of the birds in the front yard area.

There was an impressive number of Tufted Titmouse out there - I hadn't seen as many of these here at a time. When in the backyard, these birds dart in for a quick stab at seeds in the feeder, and then are

One pair of Tufted Titmouse

off to a limb or the top of the fence to eat their catch. After a few rounds of this, they are off to where-ever they spend the rest of their time - the front yard I have discovered. There were seven or more at a time hopping among the leafless branches and serenading up a storm. In the distance roosted in a tree that is just starting to break buds, were many Common Grackles. The grackles came and went in large flocks - there are peeps of chickens, a charm of gold finches, an exaltation of larks, an unkindness of ravens (that is also how they refer to the Baltimore 

A cackle of Common Grackles

defense), and a sord of mallard, but at first I couldn't find a collective noun for grackles. A little more searching and on a New Zealand birding site was listed a "cackle" of grackles - I guess a cackle is a good description for their speech and how they sound together (listen here). Also, soaring with the wind above and beyond the tree tops was an occasional Herring Gull or Black Vulture, and once even a Bald Eagle that happened to cruise by when I was looking up. The winds were blowing with some sincerity today, so there was no way to tell if the drifting birds called out or not.

I need to spend more time out front to take in the bird sightings, and to get a feel for the sites where they hang out in the wider-open spaces 

Bald Eagle soaring overhead

than in our backyard surrounded in trees. It was also great that Larry came in on his price quote - no surprises, and enjoyable conversation to go along with the service. While he worked, his white mane that spilled out from under his cap resembled that of the eagle coasting by over our heads. I am pretty sure both will be back some time in the future, each doing what he does best.
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(1) Many years ago in Corvallis, we had a slow leak in a copper water pipe under the house. The leak was because the pipe had been placed on top of a galvanized nail and electrolysis had worn through the copper. After calling a plumbing shop for an estimate, I decided to take the advice of a friend to do it myself. After buying the needed tools, plugging the pipe ends with bread, and repeated soldering tries, bruised knuckles, and primal grunts from the service passage beneath the house while Jan hid our small children in an interior windowless bathroom, while I decided it was best to call the plumber on Monday - the total cost, less than what I paid for the tools I had to buy to do this "easy" do-it-yourself job.

It's Not a California Condor, but....

In a recent blog I mentioned that the most common bird I saw on a recent road trip from Maryland to Florida and back was the Black Vulture. Well, today before leaving for work we heard a thump noise outside.

My wife asked, "What was that?"

"A squirrel running on the roof?", I said.

She didn't buy that. I went outside in my bare feet with my socks and shoes and sat at the patio table to put them on - it was a nice morning, and that gave me a chance to enjoy the morning outside before commuting to work, if even for a minute.

As I pulled out a chair, and as I looked up to my left above the kitchen window, there was a Black Vulture perched on the retractable awning. A magnificent creature (1), the largest bird to-date we have seen in our yard. I was so close, I could see the rows of wrinkles and small feathers around its head, while it sat still and hunched slightly over at its neck above the shoulders. I called for Jan to bring my camera, "...and hurry."

She came to the door, and as I said there was a vulture sitting on the awning, she reached out with only her arm to hand me the camera. She shuttered and made the point she wasn't going to come outside.

"Is it here to eat the little bunnies?" (2)

"No, it only eats carrion."

"What does that mean?"

"Only dead things."

"I'm not coming out there."

I took a few shots, and then changed the camera setting to video and walked slowly toward the bird - it had flown to the fence between our and John's yards. As I got closer, it flew down into the next-door yard, up to the neighbor's fence, and then away.

That was that, and Jan still didn't want to come outside until I assured her it was gone.

"Check the trash, it is in the street."

For sure, black vultures don't eat live animals - they will frequent road-killed carcasses. But now I have documented proof that they are suburban dumpster divers as well, or at least will tear into a plastic garbage bag left out on Thursday night for Friday pickup by the Annapolis waste collection crew.

The bag had been dragged out into the middle of the street and torn open. I was pretty sure the expired fluorescent light bulb was not the target, or various other kinds of trash. Chicken drumstick bones - yes, those were the most likely target - scraps from the the night-before's meal - extradited from the bag and scattered on the pavement.

As I was crouched down and lining up the right angle to take a picture documenting my discovery, my neighbor Raffi from across the street was walking his dog (3) and asked, "What happened?"

"A black vulture got into the trash," I said matter of factually as I stood up after snapping the shot while putting the camera in my pocket.

"So what do you do?", expecting a reply that had to do with reporting the incident to the Environmental Protection Agency, or maybe even the home owners' association.

"Pick up the trash," I said, as I opened a new trash bag and began cleaning up the mess.

Fifteen minutes later I was at the wheel, dialing my appointment on the cell phone, and on my way.
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Not So Dark Vulture

The depiction of a vulture imitation by Snoopy in the Charles Schultz comic Peanuts is probably the only time one can be consider a vulture "cute." It is no wonder my wife wanted nothing to do with the specimen in our backyard. Interestingly, the bird returned this morning after I left, and was drinking water out of a bird bath bowl on the ground between the awning above the kitchen window, and the fence mentioned earlier. She reported she tried to get a photo for me, and seemed pretty proud of having tried. Maybe if the vulture becomes a regular visitor to our yard like the other birds we know, my wife will become more endeared to our very dark-colored-large friend, much like she is to our American Goldfinches and Northern Cardinals - the most yellow and most red birds in the universe.
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(1) There are a few things in natural history that have deeply made me sad when when I realized what had changed. The first time was about 10 years ago when I saw stands of native grasses and other vegetation in a Yolo County Resource Conservation District restoration project in the Sacramento Valley - I had read about and collected specimens of California native grasses as a teaching assistant, but had never seen anything like this relic of the past, knowing that 250 years earlier these were the norm; the second was when reading The Eternal Frontier three years ago that some woolly mammoth may have lived until 4,000 years ago; and the last time when reading a biography about the plant explorer David Douglas, that he observed California Condor when traveling the Columbia River. Thinking about what has changed could make me sad if I sat still long enough to think about it - the lyrics and music of Neil Young's Natural Beauty - haunting sounds in my ears.

(2) See yesterday's blog. Our backyard and entire neighborhood is full of little cotton tail rabbits. There are about as many of them around, as there are fireflies at dusk - well, not quite as many.

(3) The dog's name is Camden, like the name of the Baltimore Oriole's ball park at Camden Yards.