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Here's the latest from my blog:
Oregon bird haiku
This is the first of two posts about this year’s birding trip to Central Oregon (2024).
A different take
In late May, Craig and I spent a delightful few days birding in Central Oregon with cousins Ron and Linda — our annual trip. We began at the Summer Lake Wildlife Area and then headed up to the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge.
As before, we saw lots of birds and took lots of pictures. Since I have posted many (many!) bird photos from previous trips, I decided to take a slightly different approach here. For each photo, I challenged myself to write a haiku (the easiest form in which to write bad verse!). No pretensions to poetry, but a fun exercise. Hope you enjoy!
The birds and the words
At first sight, a thrill.
Then ubiquity bores us:
“Usual suspects.”
We don’t have these birds in the Bay Area, so we’re always excited to see one of these striking fellows on our drive north — always across the state line, so we know we’re nearing our destination. We usually spy the first one or two on a fence post along the road, but before long they seem to be everywhere! Ho hum.
Jade, jet, aubergine,
White highlights, splash of turquoise:
The artist at play.
These birds are almost unbelievably beautiful! This was one of a pair we spotted behind the Summer Lake Lodge, where we were staying — only my second ever time seeing a wood duck. And though they followed their habit of swimming around the farthest reaches of the pond, I was still able to get a couple of photos that show off their remarkable plumage.
Metallic blue gleam:
No bird shinier than this.
Swallows pause and pose.
We saw tree swallows everywhere. Swooping and soaring, they’re rather unremarkable. But often they’ll perch for a few moments on a sunny twig or wire, as if to say, “I’m ready for my close-up!”
Roosting on rafters:
Are two owls a parliament?
Whoooo knows? And whoooo cares?!
For the second year in a row, we found owls in the old barn at Summer Lake. No owlets were in sight this year, only these two adults keeping a weather eye on the goings-on in their territory.
You know my shrill cry.
Sound designers’ trickery:
Eagles scream like me.
Ron told us this: When eagles are featured in movies, the eagle’s call is usually voiced by a red-tailed hawk, whose scream is much eerier and more dramatic. We spotted this red-tail on her nest along the road up to Fremont Point (above Summer Lake). Apparently, we were taking a little too much interest in the nest, because she flew off to a nearby tree and proceeded to scream at us, until we retreated.
In the morning chill,
The sun warms and she shimmers,
Fluffing her feathers.
Early mornings at The Narrows RV park were quite chilly, and every day we saw several of these tiny hummingbirds settling onto the twigs of a big lilac bush to warm themselves in the sunshine. Nary a black chin in sight here, by the way: apparently, it’s the boy bird’s features that figure in the name. Big surprise.
Inconspicuous,
My incognito intact.
Lunch will soon fly by.
These sweet little flycatchers look very much like several other sweet little flycatchers.
Fortunately, Merlin can tell them apart!
Masked and capped in black.
Shades of orange and bright gold.
Such a pretty bird!
These birds are simply beautiful! Their bright colors and striking markings make them stand out wherever they are. The oriole’s voice, on the other hand, “has a timbre [,,,] reminiscent of a child’s squeaky-toy,” according to the Cornell Bird Lab. I would concur.
Cousins and kindred,
We have some different habits,
But we both love bugs!
These birds nest in the trees at the RV park where we stay at Malheur. Ron and Linda had a nest outside their window and complained that the birds started up their not-very-melodious singing at 4:30 in the morning!
The Eastern kingbird is rarer in this area than its cousin. We spotted this one on a barbed-wire fence and, unusually, it sat still long enough for us to take several photos. Typically, they fly ahead to the next section of fence at our approach, so we end up chasing them down the fence line. We were lucky here.
What is a snipe hunt?
Campers’ prank and fool’s errand:
Seek mythical bird!
I first came across the snipe hunt, when I was a first-year graduate student in Folklore. I knew — or, at least, I thought I knew — that a snipe was a bird, though I had never seen one. But I learned that a snipe hunt was a practical joke of the sort known as a “fool’s errand.” Groups of first-year campers (or other newbies) would be sent out at night to catch a snipe, armed with a flashlight and a sack. Exactly what a snipe was remained obscure, but the general consensus amongst the knowing was that it was some sort of imaginary creature — and therefore impossible to catch!
From my perspective, these little birds might as well have been imaginary: I have found them quite difficult to capture. This one photo — enhanced with a good deal of Photoshop wizardry — is the first I’ve managed. (By the way, I didn’t accidentally erase his other leg — he just likes to stand that way!)
As I read up on snipe-hunting, I discovered that these little birds are considered to be among the tastiest of the game birds. They are tricky to shoot, however, due to their alertness, camouflage, and erratic flight patterns. As a verb, snipe, shortened from snipe-shoot, was in common usage among British soldiers in India in the 1770s. By the 1820s, in military circles, the term sniper had come to denote a sharpshooter, since one had to be very skilled to hunt snipe successfully. The word has since passed into common usage, as you know.
ASIDE: Fool’s errands are still common in certain trades, where a newbie might be sent to fetch a bucket of striped paint or a can of dehydrated water. Craig remembers Boy Scout Jamborees where a Tenderfoot (a new scout) might be sent to ask an adult camper for a “left-handed smoke-shifter” that would, presumably, move the campfire smoke out of everyone’s eyes. (Wishful thinking, that.) For more examples, see the links at the bottom of the page.
Their strong beaks name them,
and I knew them right away.
Yet they are not kin.
We often hear black-headed grosbeaks calling from a wooded section of our regular hiking trail, though I’ve never seen one there. I was surprised to discover that — big beaks notwithstanding — these two grosbeaks are not related and have quite different habitats.
This bird was a new one for me. At the Malheur Refuge headquarters, I had tracked a couple of them as they flitted about high up in a tree, trying to get at least a diagnostic shot. I eventually gave up in frustration. When I came back later, a little flock was scavenging for seeds right next to a feeder. Easy-peasy!
“Chicago!” they cry.
Might they be fans of the band?
Or cheering the Cubs?
It’s rare to get such a good look at quail. This pair was loitering near a feeder at the Malheur Refuge headquarters, and our presence didn’t seem to perturb them. More typically, we hear them call from the brush — “Chi-CA-go!” is the mnemonic — and perhaps catch a glimpse as they hasten into deeper cover.
Fierce, strong, majestic,
Mighty, regal, powerful…
To baby, she’s Mom.
Since our first visit to Malheur, we have driven out South Harney Lake Lane every year to see if the golden eagles were nesting. They were not — until this year. A fellow birder had reported that the eagles had built a new nest further down the cliffs from their previous nesting site, so we had high hopes. The new nest site proved to be great for us birders, since it was easier to spot from below. As we watched through our binoculars, wondering whether the nest was indeed inhabited, I spied a fuzzy head on one side (see inset, below). A few moments later, mama eagle swooped in bearing breakfast.
Effortless tree-pose:
Tuck one foot up and balance;
Glare with yellow eyes.
Our drive-by of the most likely sites for seeing burrowing owls had yielded no birds. But on our way back from visiting the eagles’ nest we spotted this little guy flying across the road carrying a snake (!). We were able to track his path to where he landed. Scanning the hillside, we eventually found him standing on one tall leg and waiting for us. Or perhaps he was just wrapping up his daily yoga routine?
Flies buzz temptingly,
Yet I make time for a song:
Art before stomach.
I love meadowlarks! Theirs is one of the few birdsongs I can reliably recognize, and it’s always a joy to hear them. This one sang and sang and sang — all while standing on one foot, which seems to be a birdy habit.
Brief moments in time:
One lark makes three, three are one —
Photoshop magic!
Named for the two pointy tufts of black feathers that sometimes stick up on top of the bird’s head, the horned lark is the only lark native to North America. This little guy was surprisingly obliging, sitting and singing while Linda and I snapped away.
I am a bittern:
I am one with the tall reeds.
I hide and you seek.
Bitterns are known to be shy, and before this trip I had never encountered one. This time we saw two — one at Summer Lake and this one at Malheur. Luckily for us photographers, this bittern was much nearer the road than the first, so we were able to get decent shots of him. We suspect that other birders might have been bitter about our better bittern!
Four brave birders, off on a spree,
said, “If you look, it is certain you’ll see.
There’s an Owl and a Duck
and a Lark — oh, what luck! —
and even a Western Pewee.”
Connections
- Cornell Lab — All About Birds:
- Wikipedia: Snipe Hunt and Sniper
- Snipe in British Food: A History (22 October 2016)
- Joe Smith: The Snipe Hunt: Myth and Reality (Cool Green Science: Stories of the Nature Conservancy)
- Spiceworks Community — Water Cooler: What are your favorite fool’s errands?
- Christine Peterson: Burrowing Owls Face an Uncertain Future (Cool Green Science: Stories of the Nature Conservancy)
You might also like…
- Birding Oregon 2023: Summer Lake
- Birding Oregon 2023: Malheur
- Springtime at Summer Lake
- Oregon’s “Misfortune” is our delight