Indecision

On these long days of summer, afternoon stretches into evening and evening into night without changing stride, robbing hours from the dark. Raccoons around here seem to have forgotten that they are nocturnal and the adults appear at all hours of the day. This week, 2 kits showed up with their mother at twilight. They stayed close by her side until some noise or movement startled them and sent them scrambling for the nearest tree. This happened 3 times while I watched, and each time, they climbed a short distance before looking back at their mother, who was still calmly eating her breakfast.

Chagrined, they reconsidered their course of action...

...and slinked back to their mother's side.
Caution is good, but hunger rules.

Night Creatures

They come when the sun is low in the sky or under cover of darkness, feeling with their sensitive black gloves for morsels of corn, 

rolling each piece over in their hands while chewing on the last one, their hands and jaws in perpetual motion.

These raccoons are startled by any slight movement; it doesn't take much to send them fleeing to the woods or scrambling up a tree.

"No worries, Mate. It's only the gobbler. Ignore him, and he'll go away."

Traveling Music Show

 There's a new show in town at our favorite venue--outside our kitchen windows. Composed by the Master of song, the music repeats familiar themes in rich, sweet tones. The costumes are elaborate. Tangerine orange feathers embroidered in black and white flutter in the breeze.

Admission is one half orange, placed in a conspicuous place, and it's well worth the price. But don't wait--they won't be here long.

The show, of course, is Baltimore Orioles passing through our area on their way north and east from their wintering grounds in Mexico. They arrived at our house yesterday, just after the hickory trees started to tassel, and they search for insects high in the trees. We hope they find all the caterpillars.

Blue jays are surprised to find a small bird that they can't intimidate. 

The birds are agile and entertaining and keep us guessing what they'll do next.

One thing is certain, though, as long as they're here, they'll be eating oranges.


Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

Slow Dance

The lead gobbler in our part of the woods has been putting on a grand show in the mornings, displaying for the hens. With his tail feathers fanned out, he opens and closes the iridescent feathers on his back, body and breast like a polka player's accordion. Below a bright red wattle, he extends one leg slowly, deliberately, then another. Pivoting in slow motion, his primary wing feathers dragging on the ground, he turns a full circle, giving the hens the opportunity to admire each of his shining feathers.

We admire them, too, and feel privileged to see it.

First Responder

A thud against the window yesterday sent me to the bedroom to check for a downed bird. Occasionally, one will crash, and sometimes a little help can influence their chances of recovery. Scanning the rocks below the window, I didn’t see the bird at first. A chirping sound drew my attention to a titmouse perched in a nearby tree. He would chirp, and then look below him. Following his gaze, I located the injured bird on the ground, another titmouse, well camouflaged on the gray rocks. “At least its buddy is looking out for him,” I thought.

When a bird hits a window, the first thing I try to do is turn them right side up. It seems to increase their chances of survival. But today, I watched in amazement as the titmouse on the limb swooped down and righted his stunned companion. 

A moment later, I had a second surprise. The First Responder Titmouse started viscously attacking the fallen one.

It wasn’t until I noticed another bird watching the fight from the tree, that a light flipped on in my brain. This was a fight over that sweet thing batting her eyelids in the tree branch. The bird on the ground wasn’t able to fly, but it could run pretty well. Still, it didn’t stand a chance. The aggressor pummeled him while he tried to escape, then flew up to the tree to bask in the admiring gaze of his cheerleader. This cycle was repeated several times.

Those little birds can tilt their head and look winsome, but when the claws come out, pity the underdog.

At last check, none of the birds were in sight, so I’ll have to assume that the vanquished bird picked up the pieces of his shattered life and moved on, and the happy couple is setting up housekeeping. I always hope for happy endings.

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday