Bird in the Bush ... Or the Silo?

Most of the time, the birds flitting around our trench silo take off as I chug toward my parking place in the feed truck and Randy follows behind in the tractor.

 

(For the record, my wildlife consultant, Pam, says this is a first-year white-crowned sparrow.)

If they haven't flown the coop (so to speak) before, they startle away as soon as Randy gets out of the tractor cab to open the gate.

But on one recent silo trip, a little friend decided to hold his ground ... or at least hold his perch on the fence. He seemed to say, "You're invading MY territory, so I'll wait you out!" I was happy to have the company while I waited, so, of course, I took his picture.

Watching the birds helps fill the time as I wait for Randy to put scoops of silage into the feed truck.

The blackbirds to the west make punctuation marks in the sky as Randy drives in and scoops out the grain.

On another cold morning, the blackbirds looked like music notes on a staff.

They eyed the grain in the silage from their perch on snow-covered branches. Other foraged in the straw nearby.

But my favorite avian visitors are the cardinals in our backyard. It's not easy to get photos of these skittish guests. I've had to resort to capturing them through the porch windows this winter.

 This is probably my favorite year-to-date, but it, too, was taken through the window.

I belong to a Snapshot Kansas group on Facebook. I'm always admiring the beautiful cardinals and other featured friends that my fellow Kansas photographers catch in pixel perfection. Mine don't compare, but they were better than nothing.

You could even see a bit of ice hanging in the shrubs and trees in some of them.

No wonder they were all puffed up. I'm trying and stay warm, too.
 

My favorite cardinal photos (so far) were from last winter.

I'm still surprised I was able to sit on the back steps while it was snowing and take these. They've ended up on notecards. The male cardinal is the "pin-up guy" on my family birthday calendar for February.

 

A couple of Sundays ago, Randy called while he was feeding and said he saw an eagle. It was feasting on some roadkill about a mile north of our house. I couldn't get close enough to get a good shot, but it was still a thrill to see it powerfully soaring in the overcast sky and taking a short rest in the shelterbelt.

I got a once-in-a-lifetime photo of an eagle this past summer.

Again, it was thanks to a phone call from my favorite farmer.

A couple of years ago, some bluebirds briefly visited in February in the pasture south of our house. It was a first for both Randy and me. We kept our eyes open last winter, hoping they'd return.

No such luck. A neighbor saw some one day, but I didn't know about the visitors until they'd already been pushed south by the frigid temperatures.

 I'll keep my eyes open.

I'm still in search of that elusive pheasant photo. It's kind of become a joke around here.

"Oh, there's your pheasant...

"Oh, there goes your pheasant ..."

I have not given up.  

I almost got one Tuesday night as we drove to pastures to check mamas and babies. Shoulda, woulda, coulda: It would have been perfect with the colorful feathers against the stark, white snow.

And now I have another photo on my elusive list. A blue heron sometimes wades in the water beneath the Peace Creek bridge. As my feed truck rumbles that way, it takes off and soars to the west. I never see it until it's in the air. 

Hope springs eternal.

Birds of a Feather

I went along for the ride on Randy's excursion to the Stafford golf course Saturday evening. It was too wet to move our last group of cows and calves. We'd been watching the Kentucky Derby coverage for hours, and it was still a hour away. So I set the DVR and decided I could watch it on tape.

Little did I know that everyone would be watching the tape. Over and over and over again. (Maximum Security, who crossed the line first, was ultimately disqualified and Country House became the declared winner.)

It was a beautiful evening at the golf course. Not too hot, not too cold, not too windy. I could hear the windmill in the pasture to the south creaking its usual song, accompanied by bird calls.

Randy pointed out a bluebird as we drove from one hole to the next, but I missed it. He has eagle eyes - pun intended.

A lot of golfers were also enjoying the Stafford course Saturday night. As we waited for Randy's turn to tee off at another hole, he saw another bluebird. And this one stayed posed while I surreptitiously grabbed my camera and got him in my sights.

When mother nature made the bluebird she wished to propitiate both the sky and the earth, so she gave him the color of the one on his back and the hue of the other on his breast.

John Burroughs

Naturalist and essayist

(I'm on a John Burroughs quote kick. I also used his words for my May basket and nest post.)

 

This was an Eastern bluebird. As Randy says, we've both seen more bluebirds this year than we have in our entire lifetimes. In February, a group of Mountain Bluebirds made a stop in the pasture to the south of our house.

The bluebird carries the sky on his back.

Henry David Thoreau

The bluebird wasn't our only bird encounter this weekend. Randy also found an injured baby hawk in one of our farm sheds.

 Randy thinks one of its wings was battered and broken.

This was the same shed where we'd had the nest of robin's eggs a couple of springs ago.

The big old trees that surround our house provide plenty of real estate for birds, but I'm usually not lucky enough to capture them with my camera. So I just enjoy the serenade. These close encounters were a bonus!

Another bonus: We were finally able to move the final group of cattle to the Rattlesnake Pasture on Monday. More on that later, but - spoiler alert - mission accomplished!