Pileated Berry Breakfast

The light outside has been dim lately, the sky and land painted in various shades of gray. 

Bright spots of red add a finishing touch to the scene, where dogwood berries, 

still clinging to the trees, serve as beacons to the wildlife. 

A pileated woodpecker came back yesterday morning for a berry breakfast.  

They are imposing birds, about the size of a crow, 

but with more color, and none of the irritating habits.  

We see them here occasionally. 

Their loud, distinctive call and undulating flight 

capture our attention as they pass by, 

but this was a rare opportunity to watch one up close.

The regal appearance this species makes is, we think, 

very fitting for the largest known surviving member of the woodpecker family.

The larger Ivory-billed Woodpecker is probably extinct, 

although if any of you have seen one lately, we hope you'll post it on your blog.

: )

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

One note:

Word verification keeps appearing on my comment page, even though I have it turned off.

If you'd like to comment, I believe you can ignore it and post one anyway.

Feathered Feast

Thanksgiving is behind us, and the company's gone; 

the patter of little feet and squeals of delight are only a happy memory.

Our Thanksgiving meal was a little different than the traditional feast, but not unlike what the first pilgrims ate; 

we had venison, potatoes and rhubarb pie.  

History may not record whether or not they had rhubarb pie at that first Thanksgiving, 

but if they didn't, they should have.  It's our favorite.

There's a belated Thanksgiving feast going on in the old dogwood tree outside our window.  

A flicker came early, dressed in his black polkadots and bow tie, 

the bright red heart on the back of his neck matching the berries he came to eat.

Cedar waxwings arrived in small groups, the tips of their tails freshly dipped in red and yellow wax.

This celebration doesn't happen every year.  

Often, the squirrels strip the berries before the birds consider them ripe enough to eat.  

But this year, there's a bumper crop of acorns, 

and the squirrels are far too occupied with their favorite nuts to dine on dogwood berries.

When the biggest bird on the block, the pileated woodpecker, dropped by, the other birds scattered.

 He didn't stay long, but picked up his carry out and flew away.

Just one more bite of those sweet morsels and the bluebird flew away, too.  

I expect they'll all be back; there's plenty of berries left on the tree.

When opportunity knocks, you'd better open your beak.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

Wings and Other Things

Pileated Woodpecker, male

It's amazing what you can see when you're not looking for something.  While sitting at my drawing board last week, I heard a faint clicking sound, and looking up, saw a pileated woodpecker clinging to the window frame about four yards away.  My first inclination was to reach for the camera behind me, but realizing that the motion would likely scare the bird, I held my breath and watched.  

The woodpecker was quite striking up close with his impressive size (about that of a crow) and vibrant plumage.  He was opening and shutting his beak, each time emitting the small clicking sound that first attracted my attention.  I had never heard this before, but I'd never been this close to one of these birds, either.  Might he be afflicted with the woodpecker version of TMJ disorder, or could he, perhaps, have just swallowed a castinette?  (Please feel free to weigh in with your best guess.)

After a few minutes on the window frame, the bird flew to a nearby tree, shimmied quickly up the trunk and into the leafy over-story, before flying out of sight.

   

Brown-headed cowbird and tufted titmouse

The thermometer reached 102˚ yesterday,

and everybody was grateful for fresh cool water in the birdbath.

Red-bellied woodpecker, male

Red-bellied woodpecker, male

Chipmunk and mourning dove

Now what was this chipmunk doing out of her cool den in this heat?  

She must have found something pretty interesting.  

Hey, maybe she'll find my lens cap!

How many are your works, O Lord!

In wisdom You made them all;

The earth is full of Your creatures.

Psalm 104:24

Dogwood Berry Breakfast

We've had a cool snap lately, with pristine air and high barometer skies, the change we've all been waiting for. Our recent hot, wet  summer has been producing a lavish harvest for the wildlife.  Hickory nuts have fallen in abundance, persimmons are ripening early, as did paw paw, and acorns are larger than any in recent memory.  The dogwood tree in our front yard, recently loaded with berries, is now nearly devoid of them and their faded remains carpet the ground.

In my journal of two years ago, I note that the berries from that same tree didn't ripen until late November that year.  Two days after Thanksgiving, on a cold gray morning, as Don and I were just getting ready to pour milk on our Grapenuts and granola, we heard a raucous commotion in the front yard.  We looked out to see a Pileated Woodpecker squabbling with some squirrels over a tree full of ripe dogwood berries. It seemed to me that there were plenty to go around.  For the next half hour I stood transfixed by the window as birds and squirrels feasted on this late Thanksgiving dinner.

Two Flickers arrived for the feast, decked out in their finery, right down to the bright orange triangle on the back of their necks.  They looked like little stuntmen, as they twisted and turned, and reached over backwards to grasp the tasty Dogwood morsels.  They were followed by a flock of Robins, who bolted the berries down in one quick gulp.  Blue Jays were next.  They would carefully pick the berries, one at a time, then fly to a sturdy limb where they would dismantle them, discard the shiny red exterior, and eat out the center seed.  Then the squirrels were back, running along the limbs and stretching out to reach the berries and doing a flip-turn back to their branch, were they savored their treat, before diving for the next one.

One year, a flock of Cedar Waxwings swooped down and stripped the tree of berries in one day. At that time I assumed,  since they knew where this great tree was, they’d come back for the harvest every year, but we never saw the phenomenon again.

I'm not sure what the creatures will be having for Thanksgiving this year, but chances are, they'll have plenty in their pantry.