I wonder if this is the same hawk or a family member. Look at those talons!
It seems as if they no longer care if I’m outside and simply carry on with their business.
How cool is that?
Bird of Prey
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Tag Archives: Southern California
Cotton Candy Clouds
Last night’s pink cotton candy clouds. It was really quite spectacular.
So much beauty if you look for it.
Through the Window: Red Shouldered Hawk
My kitchen window is an ever-changing movie screen.
Throughout the years, it’s been the best location to view all kinds of memorable events; observing the original Angel Boy in his sandbox, throwing balls for his Border Collie, skating with his friends on the half pipe while they ate the cookies and drank the smoothies I’d bring out to them, to the fresher 2.0 versions enjoying mango-black cherry ice cream cones and playing baseball in the garden or chasing butterflies, to birds and bunnies and coyotes and bobcats, (never forgetting the rats).
Today I saw a beautiful Red Shouldered Hawk perched on a low branch in the ash tree surveying the lawn for a late lunch.
Now I know where the feathery treasures come from. I’ve been finding them where I had first seen the rodents and I had a hunch they might be silent gifts–messages to communicate that my vermin problem is being taken care of, and I think I’m right!
Red Shouldered Hawks are about 17-24 inches tall and can live 15-20 years. So regal, so lovely, so important to the balance of nature. We need to protect them and their habitats, too.
I saw him fly away but wasn’t quick enough to focus the camera to capture the incredible wingspan.
Look Down! Baby Bird Alert!
When it cooled off slightly in late afternoon, I went out to the garden to water plants because it’s been SO HOT and everything is parched. We haven’t had rain in a long, long time.
I heard chirpy calls that sounded a bit distressful. How could I tell? I like to think that I can communicate with animals–whether or not that’s true, it does make me listen to them, and I feel that I can distinguish one sound from another, sort of like when you know why your baby is crying, whether it’s hungry or tired or frustrated…
At that precise moment that I heard those chirps, I was walking on my stone pathway and I looked down. There, camouflaged on a rock, I spied a tiny bird. If I hadn’t paid attention, I would have stepped on him/her!
I ran back on the deck to grab my phone, and he had hopped up on an exposed tree root.
I began to have a chat with this darling creature who appeared to be lost and a bit scared. I can understand why, because he’s definitely NOT supposed to be sitting on a gray rock exposed to all sorts of danger.
I brought over a small pan of fresh water and watched him hop around a little and flex his wings, so I surmised he had fallen out of a nest and wasn’t actually injured.
Again I became aware of lots of birds circling the area, yellow chirpy finches calling out to this little guy, so I knew it was a Lesser Goldfinch fledgling, a common bird in Southern California and one I often am lucky enough to see around here.
From the tree root he hopped onto a hanging succulent and finally made it all the way into a basin shaped planter on top of the tree stump. With his family encouraging him to join them and fly to safety, I thought it was best to give them all space and went in the house.
Later, just before dark, I checked and he was gone. As soon as I woke up this morning, I checked again and there’s no sign of him.
Fingers crossed, I’m hopeful that this was another happy ending at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
I discovered a lovely poem by Mary Oliver:
Goldfinches
In the fields
we let them have-
in the fields
we don’t want yet-where thistles rise
out of the marshlands of spring, and spring open-
each bud
a settlement of riches-a coin of reddish fire-
the finches
wait for midsummer,
for the long days,for the brass heat,
for the seeds to begin to form in the hardening thistles,
dazzling as the teeth of mice,
but black,filling the face of every flower.
Then they drop from the sky.
A buttery gold,
they swing on the thistles, they gatherthe silvery down, they carry it
in their finchy beaks
to the edges of the fields,
to the trees,as though their minds were on fire
with the flower of one perfect idea-
and there they build their nests
and lay their pale-blue eggs,every year,
and every year
the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches,
in the silver baskets,and love the world.
Is it necessary to say any more?
Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields?
Have you ever been so happy in your life?
Musical Notes: A Composition of Crows
I’ve never played a single musical instrument — well, I took a few guitar lessons many years ago but I can’t remember a thing plus I had no talent.
We have a piano because of Angel Boy. His grandma really wanted him to learn so he could play Ode to Joy and Fur Elise for her, which he did, and it made her very happy, especially during her final illness.
I looked up on this very sunny and hot blue sky day and the first thing that popped into my head was that I was looking a musical score of some sort.
I think I’m not the only one who has observed birds on wires and took similar photos, but this is my contribution. Whatever tune they’re playing is a special sort of magic. Counting Crows?
Algae Cluster
I crossed the street to see if there were herons or egrets in the ditch that feeds the lagoon, and this is what I saw.
They almost looked like lily or lotus pads, but it’s a cluster of green algae. I hope it’s not toxic, BUT it clearly demonstrates how things that look beautiful might be harmful, noxious, destructive, and dangerous.
#WordlessWednesday
Just Before Sunset
Three dolphins jumped out of the water directly in front of me.
I was rummaging in the bag for snacks for a very hungry Angel Boy, when he shouted, “Grandma, a shark, look near the jetty!”
Immediately, my eyes laser focused toward the spot where he was pointing, and I could see that it wasn’t a shark but a trio of shiny dolphins!
Dolphins make me happy. Seeing a dolphin with my favorite boy makes me even happier.
I tried to snap a pic but wasn’t quick enough. They were headed north, sharply silhouetted by the rays of the summer sun setting low toward the horizon,
Instead, I was able to capture the multiple joys of my two favorite Angel Boys.
History repeats itself as the sun goes down and I’m calling both of them to COME OUT OF THE WATER, IT’S TIME TO GO HOME!
“Five more minutes, Grandma. Daddy says to tell you five more minutes.”
I experienced a major deja vu moment of standing in that same spot many times over the years as I shouted at the top of my lungs for the original AB to come out of the water because it was completely DARK.
Half an hour later, tired and sandy, we head home to a shower, more food, and an exhausted but happy boy falls immediately asleep.
Simple joys are the BEST.
Don’t Move, Hummingbird!
Finally, I was swift enough to snap a couple photos of this tiny hummingbird perched for the briefest of moments on a string of outdoor lights.
I haven’t had one nest on the deck in a couple of years, but they’re all around.
Hello, friend!
Scrumptious Strawberries
I think I finally found the right place to plant strawberries that have so far remained untouched by rodents.
Yum. They taste as good as they look.
Happy summer Sunday!
The Kindness of Strangers
I had to go down to the airport which is about forty miles away, not because I was going anywhere or picking anybody up, but to take care of some business.
We have horrible public transportation here in Southern California but I heard there was a new free airport shuttle, so I thought I’d be an adventurer and try it out. It would save gas and save the hassle of finding a place to park.
The first step would be to take the Coaster from Carlsbad to another station where the airport shuttle would be. The problem with that is so few times on the Coaster schedule meant the entire process would take approximately six hours or more.
I decided to drive down to the Sorrento Valley train station. After I drove around for about ten minutes until I located the parking lot, I called the shuttle and asked where it stopped. I was informed that I was at the wrong station (my bad) and would either have to wait forever for the Coaster, or drive down to the Old Town station, which I did.
Upon arriving at the Old Town station, I couldn’t figure out WHERE THE EFFING parking lot was. There were no signs, no arrows, nothing that directed me to anywhere to park my car to take the free airport shuttle.
Since I was now ALMOST at the effing airport, actually only two exits away on the freeway, I got back on the road, drove to the airport, and found a place to park my car. They’ve totally torn apart Terminal One so it was a good thing I needed to be at Terminal Two or I would have ended up turning back around and heading home without accomplishing my mission.
In the parking lot, I asked a gentleman how to get to the terminal because THERE WERE NO SIGNS. He started to point in a direction, thought better of it, and kindly walked me to an unmarked spot where I could cross the street and head up a flight of UNMARKED stairs to a skybridge that eventually connected with the terminal.
It wasn’t a very busy day and there weren’t too many people, which was great because I tend to get disoriented in crowds.
After all that driving I had to use the restroom and while I was washing my hands, a nice airport employee told me I looked like I needed some help and I started laughing because I didn’t know anyone could see into my mind. I told her where I was going and she said I was in the wrong place and if I walked about ten miles and up another flight of stairs, I might locate my destination. I followed her directions and ended up walking from one end of the terminal to the next with no luck.
I was close to admitting defeat and trying to find my way back to my car when I spotted an information booth. When I asked the VERY KIND LADY how to get to where I was going, she said she’d take me so I didn’t get lost again and escorted me in an entirely different direction UP another flight of steps until we arrived at the Clear kiosk, where she handed me over to another patient and delightful person who helped me finish the eye scan and fingerprint process so that all my future travels would be expedited.
Whew! I was certainly relieved to be done with THAT, but now I had to figure out how to get back to my car. I accepted the very real possibility that I’d be wandering around the airport all day. I was all twisted around and didn’t know what level of the terminal I was on or what door I needed to exit.
I remembered that I saw a sign for the USO near where I parked so I located yet another airport employee and asked for directions to the USO where I hoped I’d find something familiar. When he showed me the proper crosswalk, all the pieces fell into place. I retraced my steps back where I had spoken to the original helpful stranger, and lo and behold, there was my car!
After driving around and around in the parking lot because I couldn’t find the POORLY marked exit, I paid $6 for the privilege of feeling incredibly dumb in my attempts to navigate the big city.
Like Blanche DuBois, “Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
Everyone was lovely and courteous. Thank you all, and I’m even happier and more grateful to be home.
Now I need to plan some travels to make this travesty of a day worthwhile.
What I learned is that public transportation here is even more horrible than I remembered and there’s a lot of room for improvement, especially with signage.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 