Tag: birds

april 25/WALK

walk: 4.75 miles
extended 47th ave loop
65 degrees
Deaths from COVID-19: 244 (MN)/ 53,070 (US)

Woke up feeling sore all over. I think it’s from the hours I’ve spent trying to scrape the paint off the deck railing. Decided to take a long walk with Scott and Delia the dog instead of running. Amazing spring weather. Bright, warm sun. Hardly any wind. Calm, gentle air. Lots of people walking, biking, and running out by the gorge this morning. Didn’t see any wild turkeys but did see a tiny baby rabbit. I said to Scott, “that’s the only time I think rabbits are cute.” I really don’t like rabbits. Also saw this super cool sculpture in someone’s front yard:

photo by room34

I want a front yard like this! No grass and an awesome sculpture. It’s fun walking by the gorge and then winding through longfellow neighborhood. People are delightfully quirky around here. Anything else? We talked about if the virus will ebb some in the summer and how terrible it must be for some kids now that they are closing down all the playgrounds and skate parks and removing the nets from basketball hoops and tennis courts. How will some kids entertain themselves? So tough.

When we got home, I sat on our warm deck in full sun and felt nostalgic for past springs and summers as a kid, when I would soak in the sun, still able to enjoy feeling hot because it was novel. Then I composed another version of Emily Dickinson’s “It’s all I have to bring today”:

It’s all I have to bring today—
This, and my knee, beside—
This, my knee, and all the gorge
And all the river wide—
Be sure to count—should I forget
Some one the Sum could tell—
This, and my knee, and every Tree
Bare-branched without its Veil—

I think I like this version better than my last.

After composing this poem and reciting it to my wonderful daughter who was willing to listen, I sat in my chair and heard the birds. I didn’t actually have a choice, they were insistent that I eavesdrop on their conversation. Repeating it over and over and over again. Of course, when I finally decided to record them, they weren’t as chatty. Still, I did manage to record a few lines. 2 syllables each. One bird started low, then went higher. The other responded higher, then went lower*. I imagined them to be singing: “Up high/ Down low” What else could they be saying?

2 birds chatting

Subway/Eat fresh
Be nice/Fuck you
Hey there!/What’s up?
Mustard/Ketchup
Doughnut/Ice cream
Mad Men/Ozark
Mustache/Goatee
Pizza/Nachos
Dumb luck/Hard work
Winter/Summer

*correction, 2024: for years, I’ve been hearing the feebee song wrong. I’ve always heard it as the fee going up, the bee going down, but a few weeks ago, I finally heard it correctly — with some help from Scott. The first bird starts with a higher fee than the second bird, but both birds start high, then drop lower.

april 15/RUN

3.8 miles
47th ave loop, shorter version
26 degrees
Deaths from COVID-19: 87 (MN)/ 26,119 (US)

Sunny and cold this morning. Feels like 15, I think. Ran south on the trail. Made sure to notice the river. A pale blue so light it almost looked white. Bright, glowing. A few extra sparkling spots. More people out this morning. Some other runners and walkers on the trail and in the grass between Edmund and the parkway. Still managed to get my 6+ feet of distance.

Recited “LOVESONG OF THE SQUARE ROOT OF NEGATIVE ONE” again. I love chanting “I am the wind/the wind is invisible/all the leaves tremble/I am invisible.” I kept repeating it as I ran north and into the wind. I’d like to be the wind, making the leaves tremble without being seen.

Been thinking about woodpeckers the past few days. Heard one right as I was leaving the house. Quick, staccato strikes. Later, about 2 miles into my run, I heard a slower, deeper pecking–was this a different type of woodpecker? Not sure.

Speaking of woodpeckers, yesterday I started writing a fun little abecedarian poem about woodpeckers. I reworked the first line in my head as I ran this morning. Here’s what I have so far. A fun exercise, if nothing else. And a great distraction, helping me to unclench my jaw and relax my throat when I get too panicked.

woodpecker/ Sara Lynne Puotinen (draft 1)

April’s anthem
Brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbr
Claiming territory
Drumming for love
Echoing, excavating,
Foraging
Gutter gutter
Hole inhabiter, no headache haver
In possession of indestructible
Jack-hammering jaws
Knock knock knock knocking up to 20 times per second
Loudly looting larvae
Methodically mining maples–
Neighborhood nuisance
Or
Poet of the peck?
Quick
Repeated
Striker of
Tree trunks and telephone poles
Unstoppable
Vibrator
Wanting wood, worms, to lay waste to siding
Xylotomous
Yellow bellied sap sucking
Zealot of the rat a tat tat

And here’s a great poem I found via Lunchbox Poems:

Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale/ Dan Albergotti

Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life’s ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.

april 11/RUN

2.6 miles
river road, south/edmund, north
43 degrees
Deaths from COVID-19: 64 (MN)/ 19,701 (US)

O, what a morning for a run! Bright sun, low wind, clear uncrowded paths! I have decided that if I can get to the gorge before 9, I’m fine. After 9, it’s too crowded. Will this time change as it gets warmer? Maybe. Ran on the river road towards the falls. For the first mile, I only encountered 2 bikers. After that, there were a few more walkers and runners. Just before I got to 42nd, there were 2 people with their dogs, taking over the road. I decided to cross over early, run in the grass, and then turn around at 42nd. A lot more crowded heading north. I heard a woodpecker, pecking at something that sounded more metallic. Saw the shadow of a smallish bird fly over my head. Listened to the rumble of a plane. Noticed the river, sparking light (I intended to write sparkling, but I like the idea of sparking light). The gorge, glowing light brown. Anything else? I recited “And Swept All Visible Signs Away” at least once.

Missing

No Daily Walker. No roller skiers. No more fat tires. No wild turkeys or bald eagles or wedges of geese. No coyotes crossing my path. No trots of runners. No music blasting from bike or car radios. No rowers on the river. No headphones. No chanting. No snow. No wind. No tunnel of trees or welcoming oaks. No touching my face to wipe the sweat off my forehead. No blowing my nose. No getting closer than 6 feet to other runners or walkers. No “good mornings!”

After finishing my run, I went on a 2.5 mile walk with Scott and Delia the dog. So nice outside! We talked about the possibility of several inches of snow tomorrow night and a little bit about panic and the constant, slow simmering terror we both feel–usually very slight–about getting sick and not being able to breathe and maybe having to go to the hospital. Then, we talked about Star Trek vs. Star Wars. Right now we’re watching the Star Trek movies. We started 4 (with the whales) last night. Scott mentioned how Star Trek is science fiction, while Star Wars is not. I agreed and mentioned how I prefer Star Trek and am tired of the focus in Star Wars on the hero’s quest. A good discussion and a nice distraction from worrying about when shelters-in-place will elapse and infection/death rates will spike.

We ordered groceries to pick up 9 (or was it 10?) days ago and they are finally ready this afternoon. Will we get the toilet paper hat we ordered?
Update: No, we didn’t. According to Scott’s daily assessment/analysis, we will run out the first week of June. Hopefully we can get some more by then.

woodpecker!

At the end of our walk, when we were almost home, we heard a woodpecker pecking away at a dead tree. Scott managed to get some video of it.

Song of a Second April/ Edna St. Vincent Millay – 1892-1950

April this year, not otherwise
   Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
   Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
   Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day,
   And shingles lie about the doors;
In orchards near and far away
   The grey wood-pecker taps and bores;
   The men are merry at their chores,
And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep,
   Noisy and swift the small brooks run
Among the mullein stalks the sheep
   Go up the hillside in the sun,
   Pensively,—only you are gone,
You that alone I cared to keep.

I love how she connects humans hammering with a woodpecker pecking.

march 9/RUN

5.4 miles
franklin loop
35 degrees

Overcast and cooler today. Gray. Was able to run by the Welcoming Oaks and greet them because the walking path that splits off from the bike path just past the ravine and then winds through the oaks was open! Was grateful to be outside on a clear, dry path and not inside worrying about this week and how bad it might get as COVID-19 hits the US.

Not too many people crowding the path, which was nice. The river was beautiful from the Franklin and Lake Street bridges. Did a lot of triple berry chants, mostly: strawberry, blueberry, blackberry. Thought about how I draw the straw and blue out but don’t do that with black–that’s probably why I like putting it at the end of the chant. The east side of the river, first in Minneapolis, then St. Paul, was clear. Favorite part of that side is right before Meeker Island dam: everything seems more brown and there’s a lovely view of the river through the trees. Today the river was blueish gray. Favorite part on the west side lately: the part of the walking trail that winds above the Minneapolis Rowing Club. What a view! And, it’s nice to be fer away from the road.

Anything else I remember? I greeted Dave the Daily Walker as I was running faster up the final hill. Seeing him approach I wondered how out of breath I might sound when I said hi. It wasn’t too bad.

moment of the day

My moment of the day didn’t happen during my run but while I was walking Delia the dog around the neighborhood. Looking up, I noticed a huge bird circling in the sky. What a wing span! It looked white or light gray to me but that could have been because it was up so high. What kind of bird was it? Most likely a bald eagle, I think. I stopped and looked up for a few minutes, watching it make big loops. At first, the loops were almost above me, but soon they were farther away. I wondered why birds circle like this so I looked it up and discovered that it was because of thermals:

Thermals are updrafts of warm air that rise from the ground into the sky. By flying a spiraling circular path within these columns of rising air, birds are able to “ride” the air currents and climb to higher altitudes while expending very little energy in the process. Solitary birds like eagles and hawks often take advantage of thermals to extend their flight time as they search for food. Social birds that fly in large flocks also use thermals to gain altitude and extend their range during migration. The sight of dozens or hundreds of birds riding a thermal has been said to resemble the water boiling in a kettle, so the terms kettle or boil are sometimes used as a nickname for a flock of birds circling in a thermal updraft. The benefits of thermals are not limited to the animal world either as glider pilots often take advantage of them to gain altitude as well.

I want to see hundreds of birds riding a thermal and looking like water boiling in a kettle! Mostly so I can see them doing it but also so I can write about the boil of birds I just saw.

Thinking about a bird soaring and circling in the sky reminds me of a Mary Oliver (yes, I love Mary Oliver!) poem:

The Real Prayers Are Not the Words,
But the Attention that Comes First/ Mary Oliver

The little hawk leaned sideways and, tilted,
rode the wind. Its eye at this distance looked
like green glass; its feet were the color
of butter. Speed, obviously, was joy. But
then, so was the sudden, slow circle it carved
into the slightly silvery air, and the
squaring of its shoulders, and the pulling into
itself the long, sharp-edged wings, and the
fall into the grass where it tussled a moment,
like a bundle of brown leaves, and then, again,
lifted itself into the air, that butter-color
clenched in order to hold a small, still
body, and it flew off as my mind sang out oh
all that loose, blue rink of sky, where does
it go to, and why?

There is no way I could write in such detail about the bird I saw today. It was too far up to see it’s eyes or shoulders or anything it might be carrying. And, even if the bird had been closer, I wouldn’t have been able to see such fine detail anyway.

april 25/RUN

5.45 miles
ford loop
60 degrees

Spring running! Overcast, so no hot sun. Hardly any wind. Low humidity. Decided to run the Ford loop for the first time in months. Reached the river, turned right instead of left, climbed up the hill just past Locks and Dam #1, ran over the Ford bridge, up the east side of the river road, up the hill just past Summit, down the other side, over the Lake Street bridge, then south on the west river road. Stopped at the Lake Street bridge and noticed the water again. A dark olive green this time instead of brown. Still cloudy–looks like the river has cataracts?–moving very slowly. I watched a big log drift down towards the falls. No birds or boats or other debris on the river. A nice, steady run. Managed to hold onto a few thoughts about the poem I’m working on but only for a minute. Lost again. Noticed my shadow. Heard some birds. Avoided a lot of cracks on the St. Paul side. Greeted at least one runner with a “good morning,” others with a smile. Became annoyed by the buzz of a leaf blower. No bugs flew into my eyes. Saw some hikers below me. Wondered about a lone bike propped up against a bench. Counted 2 runners with bright yellow, glowing shirts.

I have decided I am tired of writing “birds chirp” or trill or sing. I want to know more about bird calls, have more specific words for describing their various songs and calls. So I looked it up and found a great series on the Audubon Society’s site. Will this interest in bird calls last past this post? Not sure, but I would like to try to listen more carefully to them. Here’s a passage that was particularly enticing in part one of the series:

Are there American Robins in your yard or local park? In addition to their rich, caroling song, robins have a surprising number of different calls. Spend some time with them and study their repertoire; the knowledge will be useful practically anywhere you go in North America. Plus, it’s a method you can repeat with other familiar species.

To speed up the learning process, don’t just listen passively: Focus and analyze what you’re hearing. Describe the sound to yourself, draw a diagram, or write it down. If it’s a complicated song, figure out how many notes it has. Do all the notes have the same tone and vibe? Does the tune rise or fall? Can you adapt the “syllables” into words and make a mnemonic? The Barred Owl, for instance, hoots Who cooks for you, and the Common Yellowthroat sings Wichity-wichity-wichity. But you don’t have to just settle for published mnemonics; listen carefully and then invent your own. Little memory hooks like these will make birding easier the next time around. And as always, repetition helps.

How to Identify Birds by Sounds