Subject: [Tweeters] Fill Red Crossbills
Date: Apr 21 15:42:32 2009
From: Connie Sidles - constancesidles at gmail.com


Hey tweets, I want to thank Evan Houston for helping me find a flock
of Red Crossbills this morning at the Fill.

I was sitting on my figurative village fence, swinging my legs and
singing, "Doh-dee-doh-dee-doh" when Evan happened by to commiserate
with me about missing the flock Jeffrey found the other day. The
irritating thing about that was Evan had warned me to be on the
lookout for crossbills, a bird I have never actually seen at the Fill
in my life before. Twenty years ago, I saw a little flock in nearby
Battelle, but that's as close as I ever came.

"They're in the area," Evan told me, and then sent me links to
several tapes of their various calls. I listened to them all
diligently, trying to fix them into my mind, although they kept
dribbling out like sand from a leaky bag. Perhaps it's because they
all sounded like nothing more than cheeps to me, and how memorable can
that be? But I persisted, despite all the obstacles. I'm a firm
believer in the idea that you can do anything you put your mind to.
John concurs. In fact, he has a theory that if you put 1,000 hours
into anything, you will get pretty good at it. "Mozart," he points
out, "didn't just write his first symphony at age 7 out of the blue,
you know. He had already put in his 1,000 hours, beginning when he was
3 or 4."

So I kept repeating to myself, "Mozart could do this, and so can I."
In between bouts of cheeps, I played the current YouTube sensation,
Susan Boyle, a frumpy Scotswoman who is wowing the world with her
voice. She sang "I dreamed a dream" from Les Miserables on Simon's
show Britain's Got Talent, and she simply bowled over the world.
Google Susan Boyle and go to YouTube to be inspired. I was. I found
myself singing, "I dreamed a dream" as I kept trying to learn those
crossbill calls. I won't say that I listened to those darn tapes for
1,000 hours, but it was more than just a few.

At any rate, this morning there I was, enjoying the day, recalling the
Western Sandpiper that had been on the Main Pond earlier, and the
three Least Sandpipers, and the Orange-crowned Warblers everywhere.
But definitely not seeing or hearing any crossbills. Then Evan spotted
two birds flying in over the Fill. "Crossbills," he shouted, as they
landed in a tree across the street.

I stood up so fast my camp stool fell over. Evan was glued to his
binoculars, and I searched the tree frantically, hoping the little
beggars wouldn't fly off before I got a good look. Spotting a great
bird is not very satisfying if all you hear is someone else's
identification and all you see is dark little rumps disappearing into
the sky. I still have no idea whatsoever how Evan got these birds so
fast - I never heard a cheep, let alone a cheep that sounded like the
ones I dimly remembered listening to on the tapes. But there they
were, two lovely crossbills. Then more began arriving, swarming into a
tall pine tree loaded with cones. Then more, and more, until they were
popping out all over that tree. Little pieces of pine cone drifted
down as the flock foraged, now one red male showing himself off in the
bright sunlight, now a yellow female posing against the trunk, now
another with its crossed bill in profile. Eventually an orangish one
flew out to perch at the very top of a little tree near us. It stayed
long enough for Evan to take several pictures, and for groups of
neighbors and birders to happen by and wonder what all the excitement
was about. A dream come true. - Connie, Seattle

constancesidles at gmail.com