Hey tweets, The Irish legends warn about following a leprechaun into his
wooded hillside home. They say that time loses all meaning in there, and
when you come out, you're still the same age but everyone else is much, much
older.

So it is as a public service that I warn you not to venture into the wood on
the east side of the greenhouses at the Fill. I did today and found a
magical kingdom of bushtit houses, wren holes, towhee baths and a lacy
curtain of leaves that spread overhead and locked everything inside. A trail
winds through this kingdom, but you can take only two or three steps at a
time along it. Then you must pause and listen to the cascade of birdsong, or
watch a song sparrow eye to eye with you, or tell a couple of arguing Anna's
that it's not up to you to decide who gets to claim that bush. By the time I
heard a downy woodpecker whacking away at a sapling, I felt so much a part
of this ethereal world that I could almost recommend him to the female
listening appreciatively above me. I refrained just in time - after all, I
knew nothing of his character. Maybe his exuberance extended to other areas
of life and he wouldn't be the good provider that she was clearly looking
for. At one point, I looked up to see the sun was in the north, and I know
it should have been in the east. That should have warned me that things were
not as they seemed. I thought I was in there for half an hour, but when I
came out, half the day had gone. And I still had to haul myself over to the
main pond to look for shorebirds.

Thinking I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, I threw my work
schedule to the four winds and meandered over nearly every inch of the Fill,
which was no less magical for being a place of sunlight and openness. The
highlights in this more familiar world were a Wilson's snipe standing tall
on the west side of the main pond, a Eurasian wigeon glowing in the sunlight
on the main pond, and my favorite Lincoln's sparrow popping up on a
cottonwood branch near the point. I made up my mind that I wasn't going to
leave until I saw 50 species, but that was just an excuse. I really meant
that I never wanted to leave at all. Here's what I found:

pied-billed grebe
double-crested cormorant
great blue heron
Canada goose (including at least 18 cacklers)
mallard
gadwall
green-winged teal
American wigeon
Eurasian wigeon
northern pintail
northern shoveler
ruddy duck
ring-necked duck
greater scaup
lesser scaup
bufflehead
common merganser
hooded merganser (at least 10)
American coot
killdeer
Wilson's snipe
glaucous-winged gull
ring-necked pheasant
rock pigeon
Anna's hummingbird
northern flicker
downy woodpecker
tree swallow
violet-green swallow
northern rough-winged swallow
Steller's jay
American crow
black-capped chickadee
bushtit
Bewick's wren
marsh wren
ruby-crowned kinglet
American robin
European starling
yellow-rumped warbler (both Audubon's and myrtle)
spotted towhee
savannah sparrow
song sparrow
golden-crowned sparrow
white-crowned sparrow
Lincoln's sparrow
red-winged blackbird
house sparrow
American goldfinch
house finch - Connie, Seattle

csidles at isomedia.com