These two images make up the entirety of my mockingbird archive. Mockingbirds are not scarce, nor are they particularly camera shy, so I don’t know why there aren’t more.
Speaking of mockingbirds, here’s a video/slideshow from my husband’s archives (with a poem I wrote after seeing the photos).
A photo from August 2010. I believe this is a blue-gray gnatcatcher, but I’m not convinced enough to move the photo out of my “Unknown Bird” archive. Any ideas?
My day is too short, my list too long. Books and projects tug at my attention, while bills and guilt lurk in every shadow. I wonder if this is how sparrows feel as they forage and flirt, keeping their constant predator alert…
It was a beautiful day for a walk with friends, and Norfolk Botanical Garden provided a beautiful setting. Warm sun, gentle breeze, and acres of flowers. I didn’t see many bees and butterflies, but there were plenty of turtles. And geese. Even a pair of nesting eagles…
Nest complete, the blue jays spend hours on end in the wax myrtles. They defend their honeymoon suite with harsh calls and indignant attacks–innocent warblers fare no better than foraging crows. Rabbits aren’t allowed to graze in the yard, and the merest quiver of a squirrel whisker raises apocalyptic alarm.
Between these bouts of aggression, the lovers perch together and mumble softly to each other. They feed each other, public displays of “affection” that make me wonder about their behavioral chemistries. How does a body cope with such abrupt changes? They interrupt bonding with outbreaks of tumultuous fury, then switch back to bonding, over and over again in the course of a day. In the span of a minute, sometimes. The physiologic stress must be enormous, and yet it seems to work for them. How?
Rae Spencer 