Posts Tagged ‘birds’
Nearly killed her
Last weekend, after nearly 6 years, we got the external windows cleaned. The first and last time we got them cleaned was when Mikiko had come by for post-remodel professional photographs (link). Even before the proverbial water had dried, the female of the pair ran into the window, with a loud soft thud. It isn’t that I don’t know that windows are the second biggest killer of birds in US (link). But it had never happened before.
When I found a stunned female finch laying on her side, right outside the kitchen door, I wasn’t sure what the protocol was. She looked like my resin house sparrow, stiff. I put on a pair of gloves and picked her up. She chirped but didn’t react otherwise. I expected her to weigh a little, as little as a penny, but I couldn’t feel her weight. Instead, I felt her heart beating. It had the same cadence as mine. I gently put her upright in a flowering pot, supported by succulents. She stayed upright without moving. Then she closed her eyes, as if meditating.
By then, I had learned the protocol. No shoe boxes were to be found. I covered the pot in a stiff paperbag to give her the recommended darkness. And, she rested. I checked on her every 15 minutes. She looked a little more active every time but was quiet. She didn’t preen. She didn’t chirp.
I got a little anxious so I called my mom. She has always been good with pets. She helped calm me down.
By the time I was done chatting with her, darkness had fallen. I didn’t want to leave her on the balcony at the mercy of four legged night prowlers. So I brought the pot into the courtyard (aka aangan), the paperbag still in place. I heard her flutter around which gave me hope. I took off the paperbag and there she was, quietly perching on the edge of the pot. She stayed there for a while. I switched off the aangan lights. This was the safest spot I could find for this wild creature. There are other plants in the aangan, including a newly growing Rangpur lime tree, surrounded by english sorrels.
I wish I had waited to watch her fly away. I didn’t. Instead, I slept fitfully. I woke up early and found her gone.
I hope she is alright. I hope her babies didn’t cry while she was gone. I hope her partner is glad to have her back. I hope she didn’t lose her memory of the event to the concussion. I hope she tells the other birds to not be daft and watch where they are going.
And I need to figure out a window strategy so cleaning them doesn’t come at a cost. I might not be so lucky next time. And if I don’t figure it out, the windows will have to do without any further cleaning.
Am I developing an obsession for my hands?
A couple of years ago, I had signed up for a video editing class. For fun. I had shot some footage of my hands and had hoped to convert the footage into a short 30s movie in honor of Agnès Varda. That footage has yet to come together. I suspect I had picked my hands for a class project theme because I see them in my peripheral view all the time, whether it is typing, or cooking or gardening. I find my hands interesting. Even when I was a young woman, my veins were prominent. They make my hands looks far more mature for their age. I now know the vein pattern to be like fingerprint, a biometric. The right and left hands are differently patterned and are unique to me.
And now, the joints in my hands have started to hurt. An acupuncture session brings temporary relief and then the hurt comes back. The right hand has been particularly irksome for the last year. I finally decided to go in for a doctor’s visit and surprise, surprise, he diagnosed me with basal thumb arthritis, same as the left hand. Btw, the left hand which is a lot more arthritic, hurts a lot less. The doctor says that is because I am right handed and I am overusing my right hand. The diagnosis came in the same week that I had signed up for my first kickboxing class – while most of the time one is kicking, at times, one is meant to be boxing. I attended the class with braces on my hands and punched air instead. I have also started drawing birds recently. The week of my x-rays, we were focusing on feathers. Bird feathers are attached to their arms. And their primaries are attached to what we call our hands. The primaries generate thrust, propel the bird forward, and facilitate maneuvering. Pretty darn important, won’t you say?
My hummingbirds
My backyard hummingbirds, Anna’s hummingbirds, have turned me into a bird lover. Yes, there are song birds in the garden, but they love to hide. There are migratory birds in the Bay, but they need me to leave my home. My hummingbirds are always there for me. The feeder is right outside my kitchen. I can see them when I want to, and hear them. They are not afraid to approach me. And this kind, Anna’s, don’t migrate away.
This year, I finally decided to take a plunge into bird photography. Unlike full moon (link), hummingbird photography needs a good amount of skill even to get started. I won’t deny that I find the camera infuriatingly complicated. There are so many buttons. And the menu is a mile long. But my hummingbirds are nudging me. I am also learning to draw birds from John Muir Laws (he likes to be called Jack), a learning trajectory that is a lot less steeper than learning to operate a modern DLSR camera.
Here are two shots, two months apart – late winter when the tree is bare and early spring with new leaves on the crepe myrtle. Both are taken during evening when the sun is low on the horizon. My regular feeder has feet for them to sit on, and they do like sitting. But sitting hummingbirds don’t make for good pictures. So this feeder comes out when I plan to shoot. I put the tripod in my kitchen and shoot in between cooking.
Locomotoring 