As I mentioned in last week’s report, I have been
bird-watching as a distraction from the nonstop bickering and bad news. On my
daily walk yesterday, amidst the blessed silence, I heard the staccato pecking
of a nearby woodpecker. Then there was another, and then another, and pretty
soon, I was listening to a drum solo. The echo of three woodpeckers pecking on
hollow tree trunks, in three different keys, was very pleasing to the senses. For
just a moment, focused on the sublime cacophony of nature’s rhythm section, I was
distracted from the hurricane of my thoughts. I was at peace, and it was like
tasting honey for the first time. I realize I don’t spend enough time savoring
these moments.
I find birds entertaining to watch. Years ago, when we spent
time in the summers hiking out in Banff, that is when we began to marvel at
birds. We had names for many of them. We called the beautiful Magpies who visited
us “Pie A La Mag”, and as well we had names for the Grey Jays, Dark-Eyed Juncos,
and Clark’s Nutcrackers. One Clark’s Nutcracker came back to visit us every
year on the balcony of Room #421 at the Douglas Fir. We knew it was the same
bird because he (for the sake of argument) had a distinct personality, and he was
missing one claw. We called him “Broke Toe”, and he was a constant source of
entertainment. Every morning he would sit on our balcony and wait for us to wake
up. As soon as we opened the curtains he would hop up and down on the balcony
railing, visibly happy. Broke Toe was a delightful companion, but not a very
good singer. The song of the Clark’s Nutcrackers is a little like what Gilbert
Gottfried would sound like if he sang. We also befriended a Common Raven whom
we dubbed “Big Black Bird”. He (or she) would bring us presents from time to
time which resembled little egg-shaped balls of twigs. I’m not exactly sure
what those gifts meant. I choose to think it was a gesture of gratitude for our
friedship, but maybe it was bird language for “Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes”.
One day Big Black Bird brought his entire family to visit. For the longest time
we’d been hearing blood-curdling screams coming from the nearby woods, and we were
worried someone was being assaulted. When Big Black Bird introduced us to his
family, the mystery was solved. As it turns out, that the horrible screaming is
the sound raven babies make when they’re hungry. It’s really quite upsetting.
Last week, I mentioned that Shauna and I had watched some
eaglets hatched on a live webcam. This past week we have been checking in on the
babies, and I’m now obsessed with the eagle family. Those little guys are butt ugly
when they’re born, but they’re getting better looking every day. The eagle’s nest
in question is near a trout farm, and we watched as the eagle mom and dad (they
seem to take turns) regularly flew away and returned with a newly pilfered fish
for the young ones. Those little ones eat A LOT. Never before have I paid attention
to eagles feeding their young. It is mesmerizing. I always think of these birds
as fierce predators, but their behavior with their young is quite touching.
They seem gentle and patient. By the way, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a
baby eagle poop. They stick their little butts in the air and projectile squirt
guano. It’s gross! know, I know, get a life Jamie. But seriously, I ask you,
what IS “a life”?
Late last Saturday night, Shauna and I were checking in on
the eagle family as the babies slept. Plied with fish, one ugly little ball of
fur was out cold, with its head buried in the nest and its little unformed
wings spread out. Another was passed out with its little head resting on a twig
for a pillow. Finally, the on-duty adult dozed off, but only for a moment
before something woke it up. It went into high alert, pointed its beak at the
sky and made the strangest noise I’ve ever heard come from a bird. In short, that
is about all I’ve accomplished in the past week, watching eagles tear fish
apart to feed to their projectile-pooping young. Whatever gets you through the
day right. Don’t judge me.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer ©2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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