Hey tweets, I re-learned today something that I've known for some time but
forget when the press of daily life takes over: if you do something,
something happens; if you do nothing, nothing happens. In other words, if
you want to see wonderful birds, you've got to get out there. I've been
stuck at work and home for days but finally got a chance to go to my
favorite place on earth - the Fill. I went last evening and again this
morning. Birds are on the move again. Two warbling vireos were scrambling
to get those last few bugs before they headed south for the winter. Ditto
for a Pacific slope fly-catcher and two least sandpipers. A female pintail
was on the main pond. I saw my first flock of American wigeons actually fly
in. They came from the north in V-formation, circling very, very high.
Eventually they tipped air and landed on the bay. They were very nervous
but seemed content to settle in for the night. Unfortunately a water-skier
took it upon himself to come shooting over to flush them. In charity, I
told myself that if he had only known how tired and hungry the ducks must
have been, he would never have committed such a thoughtless act. Yeah,
right. Anyway, this morning, I had the pleasure of missing almost every
bird at the Fill. Thinking the strong wind or my brightly pink shirt was
driving birds away, I trudged along feeling like this kind of a humbling
experience has got to be good for the soul. Suddenly a Cooper's hawk
flapped right at my feet. He was perched on top of a ring-necked pheasant,
trying his best to put an end to it so he could have lunch. My appearance
interrupted the process and the pheasant managed to get away. If looks
could kill.... I was sorry I'd scared off the hawk, but what a sight. -
Connie, Seattle

csidles at mail.isomedia.com