Hey tweets, Where are your doppelgangers when you really need them?
There were so many things going on at once today at the Fill that it
was impossible to keep track of it all. It would have been great to
split myself and send one version to Surber, one to the Fill proper,
and one to the Dime Parking Lot. Not having that luxury, I tried to
flit more than I usually do, never staying more than 15 minutes in any
one place. (For me, that is birding at the speed of light.) In this
high-speed mode, I found four AMERICAN PIPITS foraging in the short
grass southwest of the Main Pond, the same habitat in which I
originally found the bluebirds (who may have pass on, I'm sorry to
say; I missed them today). Pipits have been noticeably scarce in the
county this year, so it was great to see them striding along and
wagging their tails.

At the secluded pond near the point, I saw my first COMMON
YELLOWTHROAT, a glowing male who was surprisingly silent. He was
checking out the habitat of this pond, which is not perfect for
warblers. For one thing, it's pretty open now, thanks in part to the
beavers. There is plenty of downed wood but no cattails (the pond is
too vernal for that). You'd think the first yellowthroat of the year
would scope out classier digs, having his pick of anywhere on the
site, but maybe this one was born here. There was at least one
successful nest nearby last year. Perhaps, like people, the home where
you were born and raised is always the most heartfelt home to you,
even if it's objectively not the most beautiful place on the planet.
Heck, I still have very fond memories of Holly Park, and that was the
projects.

The CINNAMON TEAL male and his mate came out of hiding today to glide
onto the Main Pond. I had to rub my eyes after the glorious vision of
mahogany glowing in the sunlight, mixed with powder blue, as the male
flew by.

I think it's going to be another banner year for VIRGINIA RAILS. I've
heard/seen them in the cattails in Union Bay, in the swamp at Surber,
and just lately in the southwest pond. In the meantime, the Tree
Swallows are busy arguing about who gets which house. I had to feel a
little sorry for one guy who had staked a claim on a dilapidated
birdhouse slanting down from a precariously balanced pole. Any eggs
laid inside would be in danger of rolling back out again. What female
is going to want to take up with him? And yet there he was, guarding
his little place like it was Buckingham Palace. Nearby, the
melodically challenged Song Sparrow I spoke about yesterday was giving
his repertoire another go. Still no applause from this critic. It was
all great fun.

I urge all of you to get out this spring as much as you possibly can.
At my age, I probably have no more than 20 springs like this left to
enjoy: only 20 more times when I can see the first yellowthroat of the
year and know that the planet is turning again on its axis as it
should and nature is still full of promise. How many more springs do
you have before the Fates spin out the last threads for you?
Personally, I can't bear to pass up even one chance to see the colors
of birds so glorious we have no words in our language to describe
them. I may have to work on my taxes this afternoon in the dank
basement office that I call my mole hole, but my heart and soul will
still be at the Fill. - Connie, Seattle


constancesidles at gmail.com