Of Sparrows and Phoebes

 

Sparrows are a confusing lot, yet, this is the time of year when they become a focus.  As we get ready for Christmas Counts many of us are boning up on these LBJs (little brown jobs).  As fall migrants they are already giving us practice.  With my group’s last field trip, our first challenge was a sparrow identification.  From a distance we made one guess only to be proven very much incorrect when the bird in question joined two others of the same species in a nearby brush pile.  Savannahs they were.

One bird which travels through our area twice a year as a migrant is the Eastern Phoebe.  Its song is distinctive and its posture and behavior leaves nothing to doubt.  It is a joy to see them as well.

 

Photographs courtesy of Bill Ravenscroft.

Ravin'

 Ravens have long fascinated me.  I suppose it stems from my knowing that the raven figures prominently in many legends of the western Native Americans. Totems are carved with their likeness as well.

 

My favorite legend is a tale as to which would be the dominant form on the earth, four--leggeds or two—leggeds.  Each side chose a competitor to race.  A swift footed mountain lion was chosen by the four—legged side and a raven by the two--leggeds. 

When the race began the cat tore away from the start and soon was very far in front.  The raven sat on a branch and croaked and cawed for quite some time.  All who watched thought it over before the race had barely begun.  Yet, the raven finally mustered up and flew.  The race was on.  However, when the raven caught up with the cat it settled on the rump of the cat and appeared to fall asleep.  On the cat ran.  Again, the race was in favor of the cat.  His head and shoulders would surely cross the finish line first.

When the cat neared the finish, the raven awoke, took to the air, its wings easily outdistancing the racing cat that by now was tiring.  The raven crossed the finish line well ahead of the cat, circled back and began a raucous taunt.  The cat swatted at the raven to no avail.  The raven merely flapped its great wings and was out of reach.  And that’s how two leggeds became dominant to four leggeds. 

 

Ruffed Grouse

Last summer we visited a small town in southern central Texas.  While there we visited some antique stores.  In a favorite I came upon a print, a copy, of a Ruffed Grouse drawn by J. J. Audubon.  I bought it for a pittance and reveled in my good fortune.  I have since matted and reframed it.  It hangs on my office wall.  And this is a close as I ever thought I might come to seeing a real grouse.

 

 

Off we go to Vermont for a fall foliage tour and some much needed vacation.  Second day out for exploring, not more than a mile from our cabin in a grassy field there one was.  I braked hard and backed up.  We got binoculars and a camera on the bird.  I am elated, no longer relying solely on my Audubon print.  I have a rusty phase Ruffed Grouse for my life list!