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Patti's Chirpings Summer
seems to be making an attempt at riding into the sunset, but not very fast
or very far.
There are a few obvious signs – the berries on the pyracantha
bush are beginning to show their potential to become bright orange.
Our Purple Martins have stopped making their occasional fly-bys and
our hyacinth bush is bursting with lavender blooms and deep
eggplant-colored beans.
One lone bloom has popped out on the purple clematis.
Hummers are regularly visiting my backyard feeder and perching
nearby to stand guard against any and all interlopers. A
Northern Harrier made a quick pass over our yard on August 29th
– quite unusual for our city habitat.
While I have been engrossed in painting the outside of our home,
there have been a few distractions.
The neighborhood Mississippi Kites have been soaring overhead and
calling.
Their high-pitched call always makes me pause with the paintbrush
and see where they are.
Maybe the house would get painted a little more quickly if the
kites didn’t look so elegant as they dip and soar over my head. I
am still feeding House Sparrows, Rock Pigeons, Doves and blackbirds, and
still hoping for a Eurasian Collared, White-winged or Inca Dove.
No luck so far. The
resident garden-munching wild bunny grew up, disappeared for a while, and
was replaced with another tiny little clone that is now in the teenage
bunny years.
As a tiny bunny, it was totally unafraid of our vocal and active
granddaughters or me.
Several times I could have reached down and picked it up. I think
it will always be a battle between Peter Rabbit and me for garden
privileges.
One
day I looked out to see a squirrel hanging from one toe above the metal
bird feeder that will close if a heavier bird or rodent tries to eat from
it. Time
after time, the squirrel would climb the trellis, hang by a toenail, try
to get to the front of the feeder, and fall to the ground below.
At first I thought we had one hard-headed and dim-witted squirrel,
but then I wondered if it had figured out some way to tap the feeder on
its way down to earth and knock out a seed or two.
That’s probably what it was doing, although I couldn’t
actually see it eat a seed. Martins A-Plenty
By
Patti Muzny
By
the end of July, the Purple Martins around the Muzny martin houses are
seldom seen or heard. Maybe
once a week or so, if I’m home to listen, 2-3 of them will soar overhead
and sometimes land on their house and chortle their farewell greetings.
I miss them! I knew martins historically gathered around lakes before embarking on their annual migration in late summer. What I didn’t know was that martins also gather in large numbers in metropolitan inner city areas. Shelly
Harris, a birder who lives near Nancy
Vicars and I took time out on a Thursday evening to check out this
phenomenon. We arrived around In
a few more minutes, the sky overhead began to “rain” martins.
Not only was the sky overhead peppered with martins, a scan with
binoculars in any direction toward the horizon was also peppered with
incoming martins. They would
circle a while, then suddenly a large wave of martins would zoom low and
dive over our heads toward the trees and the sides of the allergy clinic.
It was as if a giant funnel had sucked them out of the sky and into the
roost site! Estimating
their numbers was not one of my areas of expertise, but there were
thousands. On
the following Sunday evening the entire Muzny clan, including the two
granddaughters, decided to see if the martins were still coming, after a
strong cool front and rain on Saturday. Yes,
the martins were still coming, and I think the numbers had increased.
While Sam and Tim tolerated our enthusiasm, Brian, Amy, the girls
and I were still fascinated with the sight.
Sydney, our 6 year-old, bounced up and down from the sidewalk to
the parking lot and managed to get in trouble and was banished to the
vehicle for getting too close to 13th street, but Amy, Brian
and I decided to walk across the street to the side of the allergy clinic
building. While
the girls lounged on the hood of our truck, we observed the martins in the
gathering darkness from only a few feet away.
Watching the birds compete for the limited branches of the trees
was interesting and we were able to pick out a few adult males among the
mostly young and female-appearing martins.
As
we started back across the street to our vehicle, some of the birds flew
back out of the tree and left a few deposits on me and on Amy.
The girls’ best entertainment was when they learned their mother
had martin poop on her toe, and that their granny had a little blob on her
arm! (Sam Muzny’s suburban
fared far worse, tho!) |