Search

kafkaestblog

It is a whirlwind in here

Tag

birds

The Biggest Crow In Christendom Lands On Partridge Island

The biggest Crow

I ever did see

Is roosting

On the tallest tree

On Partridge Island.

I’m guessing for a day,

Or two,

Of rest.

Wingspan beyond belief.

He won’t find much

Winter fare to eat,

Except carrion.

And they do like clams.

But their choice of seeds,

And nuts and berries,

Is not available.

Nor insects,

Though they’ll dig for them.

But a taste of a small animal,

Might be very tempting.

So, I will keep

Paw, my cat/kitten

Black as a crow

With one white mitten,

In his carry case

Whilst the crow visits.

And,

You know,

My cat/kitten

Has not made one

Complaint.

I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2022 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Two Crows Joy Play Silly Buggers With A Cat Kitten

The cat/kitten,
Black as a crow
With one white mitten,
(I call him Paw),
Was prowling
By the Lighthouse,
As he likes
To do,


When two crows

Decided
On a bit of
Sport.


They flew toward him,
Then one veered

Left,
And the other
Right.


Paw twisted,
And dodged,
And fell
Ass over tea kettle.


And I,
For the first time
In my life,
Heard
The laughter of crows.

(I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}DE BA. UEL)

Today There Were Birds In The Air and Birds On The Trees and Birds On The Ground

There were crows in The Crow Tree.

What used to be a regular occurrence is now rare. They were in a right tizzy.

And more spooky than ever, sitting in a ragged line right at the top, above the leaves.

They all – I swear – seemed to be looking to the East.

And later, there were nine pigeons walking up the street en masse, seemingly intent on some destination.

I’d get out of their way if I was out there.

As I watched, a pickup truck came up the hill and did seem to gun its engine as it approached the pigeons

It did pass by without incident, and the pigeons regrouped and continued on their way.


And, at dusk, there were blue jays on my fir tree outside my window.

I heard them (as one can always do with blue jays) but I only saw the one.

They were causing a right ruckus – far more vocal than the earlier crows.


Perhaps this was not Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Nature red in tooth and claw, but – I gotta tell ya – there were a lot of claws.

Sandpipers Love To Hover And Soar And Take Over The World

I was roused from my bed

Tangled in the quilts of the bed

In my lighthouse keeper;s house

Close to my lighthouse

On Partridge Island

In the Bay of Fundy

By wingbeat

A storm of wingbeats

Thousands of wings

Beat beat beating

From thousands of birds

Sandpipers

Twisting in large circles

Around my lighthouse

Hiding my lighthouse

Whirl

Whirl

A  “bind” of sandpipers

A “contradiction” of sandpipers

A “fling” of sandpipers

A “hill” of sandpipers

A “time-step” of sandpipers.

That’s the best

“Time-step”

Because

With every twist

And tun

That flock makes,

They step

They SOAR

Out of time.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021/ A lot of stuff have I seen/A lot of stuff to report}

DE BA. UEL

Birds At War – One Crow Sorrow

 I don’t know how it started – I heard it, but didn’t see it.


There was a harsh thud against the window. If you are used to it (I have heard it enough) you know that a bird has struck the glass. Generally  hard enough to stun or kill. Break their necks. When he was a child, my father saw a bird hit a window so hard that it smashed the glass and ended inside the room. It was dead.


So I got out of my chair and pulled the blinds open and took a look. By the sidewalk was a blackbird, dead enough looking for me to assume it was dead. As it proved to be. But, also on the scene were  five or six blackbirds, calling and fluttering and diving and raising right hell .I thought it an unusual commotion even for the death of one of their own,
And then I looked up into the fir tree on the corner of the property. A third of the way from the ground was a crow. A very cautious crow. A crow twisting its head every which way it could.


Now, I did not see what made the blackbird crash into the window. It is reasonable to assume the crow was somehow the cause. Blackbirds chase crows, and dive bomb them, and worry them, and harry them, and do so with the help of other blackbirds. Crows like to raid their nests and eat their eggs or their young. A crow is a big bird compared to a blackbird. Strength in numbers.


So, I suspect the dead blackbird made an in flight miscalculation while chasing the crow. It got too close. Then, as it tried to get out of range, it crashed into the window. I was quick to look out the window, and the crow was already in the tree. It may have lunged at the blackbird, or spread its wings. or aimed its beak. The blackbird moved too quickly in its attempt to get out of the way.


But the crow was not out of the woods yet. It wasn’t going to take to the sky and attempt an escape. A half dozen blackbirds could inflict injury on the crow. It was going to stay put.


I had the unusual experience of being nearly level with the crow. I watched it. I watched its head. I watched its eyes. Birds have active, cautious, suspicious eyes. Their eyes are large in relation to their heads. Their eyes are jammed into their eye sockets, so they are generally  unmovable. Consequently, when they want to move their eyes, they have to move their head.


So, this crow was moving its head a lot.

Five or six blackbirds kept hovering and diving. Even two blue jays joined in the ruckus, screeching in the background at all the commotion.

This went on about five minutes, then the other birds departed. A couple of minutes later, the crow lifted from the branch. It had murder in its eyes.

Is It Cold Enough For Ya / Should We Get Drunk?

3_birds_on_a_wire__6810543956

 
Well
 
The little birds are frozen to the wire,
 
They are getting harder by the hour.
 
Three plump pigeons
 
All in a row.
 
Birdsicles now,
 
And covered in snow.
 
They listened to Cohen,
 
They even sang along,
 
“Like a bird on a wire”
 
They embraced Leonard’s song.
 
Leonard tried
 
In his way
 
To be free.
 
And so
 
Did these three.
 
And
 
– All things considered –
 
They 
 
Got their wish.
 
But, I’d rather be
 
A drunk
 
In
 
A midnight choir,
 
If only to
 
Hum along
 
With their song.
 
 
~ DE BA. UE
 

Birds Of A Feather / Loons Of The Water

6-28-10-common-loon-and-chicks-img_2797

The surface of the lake is so smooth, the flow of the differing currents are clearly seen as shimmering streaks reflecting the sunshine.

Breaking through these jewelled bands, like shadows over unrecognized borders, are three loons. Two black-capped Common and one red-throated.  They stray apart, become lost in shafts of sparkling water, and as unexpectedly re-appear further along the shore.

The red-throated loon keeps a slight distance from the other two. Usually, it is the first to dive. Dive and disappear so cleanly there is only the barest ripple to betray it.

The other two then quickly go without a sound, a liquid dive that leaves the water empty, save for the dancing sunshine.

And then a head.

And then two more bodies break the surface, far from where they went under. They move with an ease that makes them seem part of the water.

One of them wallows slightly on its side, then reaches far down its breast to preen. After a few nibbles, it rights itself and unhurriedly joins its companions.

They become a distant trio of sleek shapes, and disappear in the haze of horizon and glinting sun.

A Blue Jay Goes To Sleep Outside My Window

a_proud_blue_jay

In the dusk, a blue jay has gone hop … hop … hop, from one branch of the fir tree to another, right up to my window. And he has perched there, looking in for the past four minutes. I whisper “hello”

The blue jay has been there twenty-five minutes. I thought it might have gone to sleep, but it just shifted, and then pecked at some tree needles. I doubt I have ever seen a sleeping bird.

Two crows just flew over, making their crow sounds. Woke up the blue jay, who paid attention. But then, as far as I can tell, the blue jay went back to sleep.

A window is a quarter open, a fan is on, and I’m watching NCIS (with the sound lower than usual). Yet the blue jay seems to sleep on. I might not be able to see it when it becomes totally dark.

Well, it is now too dark to see the blue jay asleep on the branch – just the barest silhouette. I’m guessing the blue jay will be gone before I awake. But I’ll look.

These were my twitter feeds until half past midnight, when I went to bed. I turned off the lights, and would not turn them on again in case the change would wake up the blue jay. The following were scrawled in the dark, except for the street light coming in the window. The time checks are from the alarm clock.

12:30 There is now some rain, though not heavy. The blue jay sleeps on.

 4:45  The blue jay is still asleep. The wind is strong enough to make the branch sway.

5:15  There are some distant bird calls, which are answered within five minutes. The blue jay sleeps.

5:25 There is some pre-sunrise light from the east. It is green. There are now a number of birds chirping in the distance. No movement from the blue jay.

5:50 There is enough light from the windows to read my hand-writing. The blue jay is gone. It slept the night one meter (three feet) from my window.
(image)4.bp.blogspot.com/-hBaC-comxFA/UCEpdJmcg4I/AAAAAAAAA64/pyW3DTw-aLM/s1600/A_Proud_Blue_Jay.jpg

Crows As An Alarm Clock At Break Of Day

crows

After a nine hour trip yesterday, I had aimed for, planned for, hoped for, to wake up as I pleased this morning. However, the crows had different ideas, and not too long after sunrise I was drawn unceremoniously into the new day. To my surprise – considering all the noise – there were only half a dozen roosting and hopping on The Crow Tree. Perhaps their promised gold was the golden rays of the sun.

At any rate, I re-post this Crow blog from a couple of years ago.  I bet many of the crows are the same crows. Who has murdered sleep, indeed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crows are in The Crow Tree. They have not been there for months. Sitting at the top above the red and orange foliage.

There are 50 and more crows in The Crow Tree. Making a mighty ruckus as if in strenuous debate. They are greatly agitated.

Crows leave The Crow Tree in droves, circle and return. They are clustered on the top branches with constant noise. More arrive.

Stark contrast on The Crow Tree. A ridge of black crows on top of the red and orange leaves against the blue sky. They keep circling.

It is a picket fence of crows on The Crow Tree. When they perch they cast large shadows. They seem less agitated.

The crow discourse on The Crow Tree seems to be over. Most have moved on and the few remaining are silent. I wonder what they decided.

At The Crow Tree, the rest is silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour ago my walk took me to a small park/garden across from a church. There are three benches, and I sit there often. Part way through my contemplations, a crow settled into the birdbath. A large crow and a birdbath that would not comfortably accommodate two crows. There had been  a big rainstorm the day before and the birdbath was full.

At first I thought the crow was just drinking from the water. But, within a couple of minutes, he was splashing and cavorting and dousing himself in water from his active dance. Head to tip of tail and all feathers in between. A right good soaking.

Then, with a great shake and some flying sprays of water, he flew away.

(image) 1.bp.blogspot.com/-cRCIbfTBLsE/URGows8HcsI/AAAAAAAACPE/oSjE2-RI8r8/s1600/crows.jpg

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑