Ozark Grace: cedar waxwings

Showing posts with label cedar waxwings. Show all posts

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Breakfast Blind

I can't imagine a better bird blind than our kitchen window. From the warmth of our breakfast table on a cold winter morning, our attention is drawn to dark silhouettes against the sky in synchronized flight, darting and pivoting together as if connected by invisible strands. Cedar Waxwings swoop our way and line up, briefly, on a supplejack vine over our bird feeder.

These sleek birds must have just picked up their jackets at the cleaner's; not a feather is out of place, and in their early morning flight, they dipped each wingtip and tail in the waxy glow of sunrise.

They leave as quickly as they came, and the others replace them, nuthatches and goldfinches, tufted titmice, chickadees, cardinals, and downy woodpeckers. They come for the sunflower seeds, and on frozen mornings, a mix of peanut butter with oatmeal and seeds and raisins. How could they resist?

At the piercing cry of a Red-shouldered Hawk the small birds scatter, but moments later, we discover that it is only a Blue Jay doing his best hawk imitation. He raids the feeder, gulping one sunflower seed after another in swift succession, lifting his head after each swallow. Don, who's fond of counting things, established that this one broke the old record for sunflower seeds consumed at one sitting, which was 50, with a whopping 76 seeds. It's a wonder he was able to lift off.

Our breakfast is finished and the day's work is ahead of us, but there's nothing like starting the day with an arial display.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday
and Saturday's Critters

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Food and Shelter

After some promising signs of spring, winter is back in full force. Sleet, like tiny frozen styrofoam balls, fell all day Sunday and piled up, covering the ground. By yesterday morning, it was a solid mass of ice, laying under the cushion of snow that fell overnight.

In the wee hours of the morning, Don fired up the wood furnace, and by the time I got up, it was already cozy inside. Church was cancelled on account of the weather, and so we busied ourselves at home.

Outdoors, the birds were very active, searching for food to keep themselves warm. Cedar waxwings have been here for a few days. They fly with the pinpoint precision of the Blue Angels, as if some inner radar tells all of them the exact spot in the air at which they must pivot. They swirl in the sky in perfect sync, praising the One who gave them flight.

Yesterday they gathered on a tree limb, facing the wind, displaying their red wing tips and the yellow on the end of their tails. As their name indicates, they appear to have dipped their feathers in bright hot wax before they started their day. In a moment, like falling leaves, they cascaded down to the birdbath and drank their fill, thanking the One who provides for them.

On a branch outside our window, one particularly fluffed up bird shivered against the cold, and periodically, opened his mouth. He seemed to be catching the sleet, and appeared to be somewhat surprised by the result.