Tag Archives: brown

Wordless Wednesday

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Unexpected guests

Have you ever looked out the window at your feeders expecting the same old, same old, when you were stopped in your tracks?  Well, it just happened to me.

I have enormous colonial windows in my kitchen.  They face the backyard were the feeders hang near a pair of oak trees.  I often sit in the comfy chairs and drink my coffee and watch the birds. (Yes, there are huge rattan comfy chairs in the kitchen, I took the table out years ago.)

Since I have been doing the GBBC, I have spent more time than usual looking out the window.  I was standing at the kitchen sink dunking my tea bag in my cup of boiled water counting the endless swirl of birds.  1,2,3,4 Tufted Titmice.  No wait; is that one over there?  1,2,3,4,5 Tufted Titmice.  2,4,6,8, Juncos on the ground by the feeders.  4 more under the arborvitae hedge.  That’s 12 plus 3 in the tree.  Wait, here comes another 1.  And then they would all shift and I would have to start over again.

I moved to the chair nearest the window, picked up the cat and sat down with my tea.  Hey, there’s a Downy, the first I have seen in months.  Then, from stage left, in flew 2 brown sparrow-like birds with huge distinctive white eyebrows.  They looked sorta big.  My first thought was that they must be Fox Sparrows, but they were not rusty at all and Fox Sparrows have no eyebrow.  I ticked off possibilities in my head.  Female Rose-breasted Grosbeak (but it was 28 degrees in Feb); female Red-winged Blackbird (possible, but the males always came first and all the water was still frozen over); it appeared to be some sort of sparrow.   Even without the binoculars, I could tell I did not know these guys.

I dumped the cat and looked around for the bins.  Crap!  They were in the car.    I dashed downstairs and out to the garage.  I pulled the bins from their bag and standing back in the basement looked out though the small ground level window.  I looked for field marks.  Huge eyebrow.  Streaked breast.  White on the tail.  Mottled medium brown.

I dashed upstairs for my camera and the Petersen’s.  Oh my God.  They look like Lapland Larkspurs.  They squabbled with the nuthatches but only stayed for less than 5 minutes.  By the time I got organized with my camera.  They had disappeared and so far have not returned.

Lapland Longspurs.  Is that possible?

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Filed under Local schmocal

Color Starvation

My eyes are starved for color. The world is awash in gray and brown–faded, tired, and dirty. The lingering snow is gray on gray. The woods are monochromatic soldiers in shades of taupe and ash. The patches of grass showing through on the frozen edges are a matted mousy brown. The only respite in all this dreary monotony is the muted greens of the wild mountain laurel and the furled rhododendrons drooping in the cold.

My eyes yearn for the first faint blush of swollen buds on the trees where the whole mountain side is a watercolor; the hint of yellow Forsythia flowers as they test the weather before turning the world golden; the early hardy dancing daffodils, and the peek of yellow and purple crocus in the greening lawn.

My eyes eagerly seek among the trees and brushes for the bright plumage of returning birds. I long to drink in the brilliant orange of the Oriole; to bask in the sunshine of a Yellow Warbler, to squint from the blinding whiteness of a Common Merganser.

February is the month where I can see the light at the end of the tunnel of winter. I am balking at the color diet I am on. I am ready. But nature is still subdued, resting, waiting.

I do not wait well.


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