Crows and Sparrows from NYC to British Columbia

Many of the birds we saw on our trip to British Columbia have counterparts back east, whether the same species or a closely related species.

A male White-throated sparrow surveys the area in Riverside Park, New York.

White-throated sparrow.

 This little fellow was singing up a storm about two weeks ago, fluttering in not-yet leafy bushes and shrubs quite low to the ground. Here he seems to be giving me the old stink-eye from beneath his extraordinary yellow “eyebrows”.

Below is a male golden-crowned sparrow in Garden Bay, British Columbia.

Here he is again in the same location, but on a brighter day. Look how much paler and less gray his throat and breast appear below. The golden-crowned sparrow is found only along the Pacific coast, while the white-throated ranges over much of the continent.

Crows are found all over the continent. Back in March, this group of common crows was delightedly bathing and playing in a large puddle in Riverside Park. (If you place cursor over image below, arrows will appear so you can click through the slide show.) There were five or six crows, but they flew off by ones and twos, eventually leaving just one crow to wallow in the puddle.

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Back in the late 70s, I co-founded a theater in Portland, Oregon called Crows & Roses Theater Project. Portland has long been known as the “City of Roses,” but for us, it was the “City of Crows and Roses.” Turns out crows abound all over the Pacific Northwest, and are extremely successfully at adapting to suburban and urban environments.

For a fascinating discussion of urban crows, inspired and anchored by the author’s observations of crows in her Seattle neighborhood, read Crow Planet by Lyanda Lynn Haupt.

In British Columbia, crows are everywhere.

A crow fans its tail as it looks over the harbor.

Here is a sunlit crow.

Below, a crow perches high on a barren tree.

Or could the bird below possibly be a raven? I heard ravens frequently in the woods, and saw them on several occasions calling and flying. I also heard one making a kind of strange high-pitched constant call as it flew that I had never heard before.

Yet another crow engaged in a turf battle with a gull in the harbor. When it circled up to this tree, its feathers looked quite a bit the worse for wear.

It repeatedly soared down to the rocks at the water’s edge.

But if the gull became aggressive, it took off and lit on the tree.

Then it would fly back down. Must have been some good seafood down there.

A Canada goose also figured in the scenario.

The goose was mostly left to its own devices, ignored by gull and crow, even when it mounted the rocks.

Back in Vancouver, a flock of crows mingled with a mallard and a coot at the water’s edge.

I wondered if any of the crows I saw were Northwestern crows rather than American crows. Northwestern crows, which are found only along the upper Pacific coast, are described as being slightly smaller than the American crow. They specialize in scavenging along shorelines. My guidebook claims they are most easily distinguished by their lower-pitched, hoarser voices. Next time, I’ll listen more closely.

Eagles and Hummingbirds of British Columbia

Bald eagles abounded on our recent trip up the British Columbia coast.

This beautiful bird was sitting on a body of fresh water in an area that looks to me like a beaver dam.

Another closer look.

We saw many eagles on the wing. With a wingspan of nearly seven feet, they are an impressive sight.

And for a size contrast, we also observed several rufous hummingbirds whose wingspan reaches a magnificent 4 1/2 inches.

We saw these tiny, brilliant creatures at a nectar feeder, and darting out over a road to capture insects.  Several times, the hum of those rapidly beating wings alerted me to the bird’s presence before I registered it visually. According to Journey North, hummingbirds beat their wings at a rate of about 75 beats per second.

Here a rufous hummingbird sips nectar from the feeder.

And here’s a lovely view from the vicinity in which we saw the hummingbird zoom back and forth over the road.

Happy May Day

Happy May!

Phil, the white peacock of Saint John the Divine.

People, flowers, wildlife and pets are out in force.

Art meets cherry trees on the grounds of St John’s.

Fine weather to sit with your dogs.

Sitting in the shade with the dogs.

Or your birds.

A bird cage with six parakeets becomes mobile atop a laundry cart.

Here’s a closer look at one of six happy parakeets on their outing to the river.

Oh, what a pretty bird.

Fine weather, too, for human lovebirds.

On the Greenway by the Hudson in Riverside Park.

Or for sitting alone near the forsythia.

On the retaining wall of Riverside Park.

Wherever you go and whomever you’re with, keep an eye out for color.

Tulips in Riverside Park.

And enjoy the flowers before they go.

Magnolia carpet in Riverside Park.

The brief life of flowers, and the word “enjoy,”puts me in mind of William Blake’s poem, Eternity:

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.

Happy May!

Douglas Squirrel in Garden Bay, British Columbia

One of my favorite easily-observed creatures in British Columbia is the Douglas squirrel, sometimes called the chickaree.

Much smaller than New York City’s hefty Eastern gray squirrels, the Douglas is a tree squirrel found from California to the southern British Columbia coast.

Like most squirrels, it uses its front paws quite charmingly to hold nuts and other food. There’s just something about its small size, big eyes, and overall demeanor that give it the look of a storybook character.

Douglas squirrels eat primarily the seeds of the coniferous trees that abound in this area: Douglas firs, of course, but also Sitka spruce and pines. Like the Eastern gray and many other squirrels, they are scatter hoarders, burying seeds or entire pine cones in various spots. But unlike the Eastern gray, Douglas squirrels have no cheek pouches for holding food.

They have high-pitched voices that pierce the forest, and sound remarkably like a bird. On several occasions, I scanned tree limbs, trying to determine what bird was so persistently peeping, only to discover that I was being yelled at by a squirrel.

Below is a fascinating two-minute sound clip from NPR’s “Bird Notes” on the Douglas squirrel. Just click the arrow to play:

The little fellow In these photographs hung out near the pedestrian bridge that connects the harbor to Garden Bay Road. Below you may be able to make out the squirrel perched on the fence rail to the right of the tree.

It was often seen in the company of a golden-crowned sparrow.

The two seemed to be masters of their own bathing and drinking pool.

We humans, however, need more sustenance than pine cones and water, or even wildlife sightings. Tearing myself away from the little animals, I crossed the bridge.

Soon I was happily drinking coffee and eating breakfast at Laverne’s Grill.

Ahhhh. Repletion.

Back outside, bald eagles soared overhead (more on them soon).

And the little squirrel went about its squirrely business.

Happy Arbor Day!

I learned this morning from Backyard and Beyond that today is Arbor Day. Since I am in British Columbia, surrounded by magnificent forest, it seems a fine occasion to celebrate the day.

Garden Bay Provincial Park

The forest here is dense and layered. This time of year, leaves on the deciduous trees are still pale against the darker needles of the evergreens.

The many shades of green are mesmerizing.

Sometimes you glimpse islands and water through the trees.

Even the downed trees and stumps are covered in many shades of green made by moss and lichen.

An old and beautiful tree, felled to create a younger and beautiful trail.

Happy Tree Day.

To Vancouver and British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast

Yesterday in the wee hours, we arrived in Vancouver, British Columbia. We slept a few hours in this beautiful house.

Jay and Atty’s house

I walked around Trout Lake Park with Jay, Atty and Bella. In December 2011, I observed a perching eagle here. No such luck today, but the park is lovely in springtime.

Trout Lake Park, Vancouver, BC

Red-winged blackbirds are calling.

Female red-winged blackbird at Trout Lake.

Old Bella stood on the walkway and grazed the tops off tender shoots of grass.

Bella trots and man meditates.

Later, waiting to board the ferry at Horseshoe Bay, we watched at least three bald eagles as they circled high above us.

Bald eagle over Horseshoe Bay.

On the ferry, the mountains shone.

Ferry ride

The islands loomed.

We disembarked at Langdale, and drove north up the coast.

Of course, there are always crows wherever you go in the northwest.

More on British Columbia tomorrow…

Check out the Snow!

It’s crazy snowing this morning!

Snow in Traverse City, Michigan

I flew into Traverse City in northern Michigan last night, where I’m serving as a mentor for a Young Playwrights Festival run by the Wharton Center. You can’t really see in this quick shot out my hotel window, but these are big beautiful snowflakes pouring down.

This is what I left behind in New York City: Broadway in bloom.

Morningside in bloom.

Wow.

Well, the work the young playwrights are doing will warm us up.

It’s April in NYC, Let’s Ditch the Plow

Here are two favorite spring posts from years past:
NYC Signs of Spring: Red-tails Nest and Mr. Softee Sings
Two-Eyed Prophecy of Spring

April in Morningside Heights. Time to …

Raise the plow.

Raise the plow on 110th and Columbus.

Wait a minute. “Raise the plow?!” It’s April, people, let’s just ditch the freaking plow!

Time to go to the laundromat. Apparently, it’s been a long winter.

Time to show some baseball love.

Time to play ball.

Or learn to play ball.

Time to kayak the Hudson.

Time to fight.

These two male mallards were seriously going at each other.

Hormones are raging in the spring, and there seem to be many unattached male mallards hanging around in Morningside Pond, getting into trouble.

Time to cuddle. Those hormones, you know.

And when you look this fine, it’s always time to strut your stuff.

Phil, one of three resident peacocks at the Cathedral of St John the Divine

 

Peeking, Lolling Raccoon

Just before sunset yesterday, someone was peeking out of the main raccoon den in the Riverside Park retaining wall.

First a nose.

Then an ear and an eye.

and finally most of the masked face.

As we watched, that someone started lolling about in the entrance.Look at that hand, er, I mean paw.

Here is the track of a raccoon in the mud of the ravine in Central Park.

Hmm. Reminds me of the 32,000 year old handprints in the Cave of Chauvet.

But back to the lolling peeker.

Interesting to note that there appears to be no tag on the raccoon’s ear, which means it was not vaccinated during the rabies epidemic of 2010. It may not yet have been born.

We headed down to the river to catch the afterglow of the sunset.

A father and daughter gazed across the river.

Some cherry trees are in bloom, while others remain bare.

We checked back at the den after dark, before leaving the park. Someone was still peeking.

It’s Spring, Everybody Sing!

Today is a little chillier, but the last few days have made the birdies sing. Here is the song I heard them singing.

Oh, it’s spring. Yes, it’s spring.

Magnolias are budding.

Peacocks are showing.

Fruit trees are blooming.

Turtles are basking.

Willows are greening.

Yeah, it’s a beautiful day.

Can I have an amen?

NYC Dolphins in Hudson River

Two days ago, on Sunday April 7th, a reader named Jane posted a comment on a blog post from last summer:

“I was out riding my bicycle this afternoon and took a break on a bench along the Greenway at about 96th Street … and saw two dolphins leap out of the water, one following the other!”

I contacted Jane on Sunday evening to find out more. She wrote that she had never heard of dolphins being spotted in NYC, and was stunned.  Apparently her friends did not believe her, so she searched the internet “to prove I’m not crazy!” That’s how she found this blog.

Jane saw the dolphins swimming north around 3:30 or 4:00 pm. Apparently, they stayed the night, because on Monday morning, according to CBS News, two dolphins were spotted off Inwood Hill Park. They were later reported swimming south toward the George Washington Bridge.

Two dolphins were spotted in the Hudson River near Inwood Hill Park Monday. (Credit: CBS 2)

CBS News quoted John Lipscomb of Riverkeeper on the recent appearances of dolphins, “What we’re seeing right here under our noses is the wilderness; it’s like having the Serengeti off of 125th Street. It’s awesome, and it reminds us of the beauty of all of this life.”

I was down by the river twice on Sunday, but saw no dolphins, although last month, I had the marvelous experience of watching the East River dolphin in action.

For more on NYC’s dolphins:

Watching NYC’s East River Dolphin
Dolphin Spotted in East River
Watching the Watchers of the East River DolphinKeep Wild Dolphins Wild
Hudson River Dolphin
Hudson River Dolphin is Dead

Raccoon Carries Baby in Riverside Park

Last night I saw something I’d never seen before: a mother raccoon carrying her tiny baby in her mouth.

The photos, sadly, are blurry. My camera had run out of battery, so I had only my iPhone, which doesn’t do well in low light.

I entered the park just as the sun was setting over the Hudson River.

I scanned the great retaining wall for raccoons.

The setting sun illuminated the entrance to a den, but no animals were visible.

We walked south for a while, then returned to take another look at the wall. A short distance from the primary den, a raccoon was moving on the wall, carrying something in its mouth. My first thought, oddly, perhaps, was that it was carrying some kind of prey. But no, this was a baby raccoon, dangling from the mother’s mouth twenty feet above the ground.

The mother carried it gingerly along the wall. At last, she ducked into a hole and disappeared.  Loud, deep growling sounds came from the wall. Clearly the hole was occupied. It sounded like pigs grunting. I worried that the baby might be injured by the surly host.

The dog, tied up a short distance away, was fascinated by the rather alarming sounds.

After some time, the mother emerged, the baby still dangling from her mouth, and continued heading north along the wall. It’s not easy to walk on that wall, even without a baby in your mouth. She went almost all the way to the top.

 I could see the head of a pedestrian who strolled along the uppermost promenade, unaware of of the raccoons just a few feet below. Then the mother carefully made her way down the great wall until she reached the ground. Skirting the base of the wall, she continued north on all fours, moving much faster than she could on the vertical surface of the wall.

I left the mother and her baby to their night’s journey. I am guessing that, for whatever reason, she was seeking out a new den, or perhaps, a second den. I hope she found what she was looking for. If there were other babies to be moved, I hope she managed to go back and get them all safely settled. No matter how much wildlife behavior we are lucky enough to observe, there is so much more that goes on unobserved. Mystery remains, even deepens, and every observation raises new questions that keep me coming back to the park, and back to the animals.

I believe this is the mother raccoon, seen here ten days ago.

Good luck, mama.

For much more on New York City’s raccoons, see the raccoon archives.

1 Rm Riv Vu, NYC Wildlife Edition

New York City’s wildlife sometimes hit the real estate jackpot. Yes, while many humans can no longer afford to live in Manhattan, the birds and raccoons are doing just fine. Many even enjoy sunset views like this one over the Hudson River.

Some animals prefer traditional pre-war living environments in which to raise their families.

Others enjoy a more modern situation. Some sparrows prefer the bustle of Mondrian-inspired scaffolding. (Sadly, the birds are not visible in this photo.)

Others find that modern materials can be used to create a cozy, neighborly feel.

And for the lucky elite, luxury urban dwellings abound. The beautifully detailed statues adorning the entry way to the Synod House at St John the Divine provide temporary housing for generations of house sparrows.

Look for the nests.

And for private living with sweeping city views, the red-tailed hawks of St. John’s have it made.

The Things They Carry

Animals carry things. They carry things in their mouths and in their hands, in their arms and on their fur, on their heads and in their feet. They carry things because they must, and they carry things because, well, sometimes they just like to.

Some animals carry sticks.

Or frisbees.

Some animals carry Easter baskets.

Or smaller members of their own species. (Note the raccoons on the wall.)

Whatever that species may be.

Some animals carry other species, including large cats.

Larger cats.

And tiny geckoes.

They carry things to eat.

And leaves.

And cans.

If the animal is a scientist, she may carry equipment, including an aspirator for collecting ants.

Dr. Holly Meninger with microphone and aspirator.

Ants carry fire flies.

Dogs carry small green seeds.

And big brown burrs.

Squirrels carry nuts.

Starlings carry pizza.

Hawks carry cats, or so the sign suggests.

They carry tiny dogs, at least in urban legend.

painting by Charlotte Hildebrand

They also carry strange nesting materials.

These are just some of the things they carry.

Oh, and saints carry hawks.

What do you carry? What, or who, carries you?

A tip of the hat to Tim O’Brien’s amazing book of stories about the Vietnam War, The Things They Carried. If you haven’t read it, do.

Diving Duck Blues

As I walked along the river, I saw a disheveled, punky little fellow gliding north along the shoreline. A male red-breasted merganser.

He glided, then dove, glided, then dove. Most of the time, I only caught the ripples.

Then I’d have to wait, and scour the area to see where the little fellow would pop up next.

This was a very active bird, who seemed to be enjoying life. I wondered what he was hunting down there. If he caught anything, I didn’t see it. But I did finally catch a few dives.

The dives are extremely fast. One moment the bird is floating along, the next moment it’s gone. I hope these shots convey a sense of the speed and power of the dives.

That “hair” just won’t stay down.

On my way back, about half a mile south, I spotted the female of the pair.

She was serene, gliding along and not diving at all.

The mergansers put me in mind of Diving Duck Blues:

“If the river was whiskey and I was a diving duck,
I’d dive to the bottom, and I’d never come up.”

Maybe that’s what was getting the little merganser so excited.
Listen to Taj Mahal tell you about it: