Hey tweets, Scraping ice off your windshield in April is different
from winter ice-scraping. In January when I scratched tiny holes in
the hoar on my windows, holes just large enough to peer through as I
leaned over my steering wheel to drive, I had to wear five layers of
clothes. Even bundled up like the Michelin Tire Man, I would slowly
congeal into a solid block while I sat on my camp stool observing
birds at the Fill. Birding then felt more like joining the "huddled
masses yearning to be free" - free of the cold and the dull pewter
skies. Winter is the season for survival, when everyone hunkers down
and just tries to get through.

In April, the ice that forms in the clear night after the planet's
heat leaks out to space is soon melted by the sun that spreads its
rays over the land in welcome heat. The ancient Egyptians used to
picture the sun's rays as little hands patting people's heads.
Yesterday felt like that.

Birds in April may get cold in the night, but they are way past
survival mode. What's on their minds now is making new birds. I could
see this everywhere yesterday at the Fill. Everyone who nests here was
busy with courtship and beyond. The ones who have further to go before
they can nest were in a rush to eat enough so that they can fly onward.

One of the best migrants yesterday was a gorgeous Nashville Warbler
foraging inside Surber grove. He was a riot to watch because he was so
torn. On the one hand, he wanted to mate. On the other hand, he wanted
to eat. Half of him was saying, "Gotta sing, gotta sing, gotta sing,"
while the other half was saying, "Where's a bug?" He compromised by
frenetically snatching an insect then singing a snatch of song then
snatching another bug. I know it was just a trick of the light, but
with his prominent white eye-rings, he looked like where he really
belonged was on tranquilizers.

Other great birds yesterday:
Two Hermit Thrushes picking berries in the treeline south of the CUH.
There is a tree there on the west side, just before the treeline
curves south into open water, that is covered by a kind of vine. The
vine is not ivy. Its leaves look like a species of morning glory, but
it's not that. Anyway, the vine has berries that the thrushes love.
Yesterday, two of them were hiding in the leaves. Then they would leap
out, flutter in midair, pick as many berries as they could, and settle
onto a branch to swallow. Then back into the leaves to repeat.

Two Western Kingbirds were hawking insects in the field south of the
greenhouses. I'm sure these are the same ones who have been here for
the past couple of days.

Vaux's Swifts are back.

Orange-crowned Warblers are everywhere.

A great day. - Connie, Seattle

constancesidles at gmail.com