Gather that grass, then fly the wrong way as a decoy. Then fly, fly, fly! Don’t delay. It’s nesting time. Quick, get at ‘er. ~ With thanks to the starlings.
Hawk has its tree. Cat has his stump. And that’s that.
March is neither winter nor spring. Its weather is not its own. Anything can happen this month, and usually does. It’s best to call it an empty space that other seasons pass […]
Some hawks tolerate being watched. Some don’t. It’s an example of how observation changes the observed world. I mean, how much of hunting behaviour is dependent upon being undisturbed at rest, or […]
So, plucking the haws, that’s the easy part. But they’re freaking ornamental haws, right, and they have weird stem bits. And even without stem things they’re too, gasp, cough cough, wheeze, big. […]
Siya? is budding out now. Poplar has put winter behind her. We are looking into the distance now. Together. Together! We are on the move!
Today, the winter’s birds decided to celebrate the sun in the same trees and the same hill at the same time. There were thousands. The waxwings kept to themselves, the hawk wanted […]
It’s a great day to be a bohemian waxwing! (But walking among them is pretty fine, too.)
We’ve had a visitor for a couple weeks now, a northern shrike from the high plateau. It’s very inquisitive, yet shy. No way am I going to get closer than 70 metres. […]
The hawks don’t even have to ask. Just Another Day of Irony In Canada