FLYday - Common Tern In Flight Vocalizing

Common Tern, immature in flight vocalizing. Phippsburg, Maine summer, 2012

 

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

FLYDAY - Bald eagle, Osprey, Herring gulls, Double-crested Cormorants- Fishing & Fighting

Osprey, also known as a Fish Hawk with a freshly caught Alewife, which is a type of herring. Phippsburg Maine.

 These photos were all taken within five minutes of one another. I was sitting at the mouth of the Kennebec River where it empties into the Atlantic Ocean at Popham Beach.

Bald eagle, adult chasing an Osprey with a fish, off from Popham Beach, Phippsburg Maine

I felt sorry for the poor fish. That's a long way to fall!



A Double-crested cormorant was flying by. They were also there to catch fish, but they don't steal from others for their dinner.

Herring gulls and Harbor seals, Phippsburg Maine. The gulls had chased an Osprey with a herring, also known as Alewife, until the beleaguered raptor dropped the fish. Then, the gulls fought each other for the purloined catch. One of them was able, miraculously, to snatch it from the drink and take off with it. The Harbor seals watched. They were busy catching their own fish and wondering if someone might drop some fries into the water to go with it. No Grey Poupon served here, only tartar sauce!

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

(It seems fighting, feeding and filching are high on their lists, too!)

FLYday - Magnolia Warbler, Phippsburg, Maine

Magnolia Warbler in flight, Phippsburg, Maine May 2012

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly! 

To see more of my photographs of birds in flight, click on this link:

http://www.robinrobinsonmaine.com/BIRDS/BIRDS-IN-FLIGHT/14827970_JBkfCq

FLYday - Bald Eagle and Herring Gull Fight

Adult Bald eagle being harassed by Herring Gull, Phippsburg, Maine, May 2012

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly. 

I took this shot on the end of our pier, 120 feet out into the ocean. I was wearing my bathrobe. 

On my photography web site, you will find almost 8,000 images of Maine taken by me. 

http://robinrobinsonmaine.com 

Scenic Sunday - Fort Popham on The Kennebec River, Phippsburg, Maine

 

   Fort Popham on the Kennebec River, Phippsburg, Maine in autumn. I took this aerial view in 2010. Hunnewell Beach is in the foreground. The view is looking north up the Kennebec River. Atkins Bay is to the left or west of the fort. Cox's Head is in the background to the left or west of the fort. Gilbert's Head is just north and to the right or east of the fort.

FLYday - Great Blue Heron Food Battle

Great Blue Herons, Ardea herodias engaged in food battle. The heron on the left is biting the legs of the fleeing heron on the right!

Phippsburg, Maine

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

For more wading birds, see this link: http://www.robinrobinsonmaine.com/photos/swfpopup.mg?AlbumID=13998997&AlbumKey=FQwq63

FLYday - Great Blue Heron

Great Blue Heron, Ardea herodias in flight, Phippsburg Maine

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.  

To see more photos of birds in flight in Maine, click HERE.

To see more photos of wading birds in Maine, click HERE.

Hot And Cold, Spring Snow

Andromeda japonica in spring snow.

March 28, 2012

    After a week of record breaking, summer like temperatures, it was a surprise to wake up to snow cover this morning. My first thought was "Flowers! Flowers in snow!" I leaped out of bed and ran out to my gardens, still wearing my bathrobe. Quickly, my feet froze in my open toed, house slippers. My robe trailed in the snow and mud. I hopped around like a cat in water, trying to keep my feet from sinking into the snow as I pranced from one lovely vignette to another. I was enraptured in the glory of those tender blooms in crowns of snow.

      My husband hollered from the safety of a window, "What the hell are you doing out there?" Inarguably, I looked like a lunatic escaped from an asylum. Ignoring him, I kept photographing until the wind whipped up. My robe was blown in the air flinging mud with it and frigid air around my legs. My feet were soaked. I picked a trail of windblown hair from my mouth. When all of the snow blew off the flowers, I called it quits. Then, I heard water running.    

     Having grown up in houses with ancient, unstable plumbing, the sound of running water provokes P.T.S.D. symptoms for me. My first thought is always a strong "Oh No! What's wrong now?" Hurrying toward the sound, I was relieved to see that the source was just my husband, stark naked in his outdoor shower. Yes, we did  have snow; yes, the wind was howling; and yes, I still had the camera in my hands. And I did photograph him in all of  his glory, though his crown was suds, not snow. You may insert the smiley face here, or whatever other image you conjured. But, the details will remain between us. 

Siberian squill with snow on its crown

Pink Andromeda japonica in snow

pulmonaria, or Lung wort bud in snow

A blue variety of pulmonaria in the snow. Pulmonaria is also called Lung wort. In days of yore, it was used medicinally to cure respiratory ailments, like pneumonia. My grandmother would have said of David in his shower, and me in my robe in the out of doors, "You'll catch your death out there!" She need not worry. Once I'm done I'll just brew up some Lung wort tea. 

If you would like to see more images of spring time in Maine, click here.

This post is an Editor's Pick on Open Salon (click here for more on OS) It is the sixteenth of my works to be so chosen. Thank you, OS!

FLYday - Ruby Thoated Hummingbird

Ruby-throated hummingbird, female at impatiens. Phippsburg, Maine 2011

Flyday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

FLYday - Bald eagle

Bald eagle, adult, Phippsburg Maine

FYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

This post was chosen for the cover of Open Salon as Editor's Pick. It was the fifteenth of my works to be chosen. For the first time, I had two Editor's Picks on the cover at the same time, this one and my previous post which also had eagles. For more please see http://open.salon.com/cover

SCENIC SUNDAY - Pond Island Lighthouse

Pond Island Lighthouse from Popham Beach, Phippsburg Maine. March, 2012

FLYday- Red-breasted Merganser in flight

RED-BREASTED MERGANSER DRAKE IN FLIGHT, PHIPPSBURG, MAINE FEBRUARY 2012

FLY-day is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

Mocker Muddle - Northern Shrike or Northern Mockingbird?

 

Northern Mockingbird, Mimus polyglottos Brunswick, Maine February 2012

''

Lest there be doubt about where I saw this bird!

The Mocker flew to a nearby tree.

                Northern Shrike, Lanius excubitor, Phippsburg Maine March 2011. See how similar the two birds are? Note the hook on the shrike's bill.

Our dog, Perry, safely back in the car. Perry is a Shiba inu.

     My darling husband gave to me a Happy Day Surprise recently of a stunning pair of earrings. Each earring is a large, mother of pearl Bald Eagle in flight! They are magnificent! When I wore them for the first time yesterday , I felt like an Indian princess and an intrepid wildlife photographer all rolled into one. I held my chin a little higher (always good for a middle aged woman) and walked with a jaunty stride and my shoulders back. I felt goooood! 

      I did keep checking them though, repeatedly touching my fingers to my ears. At nearly three inches long, they are quite ostentatious. I wasn't self conscious; I was worried I'd lose one! It is a universal law of inverse proportions that you will lose one earring of a pair you love the most. You won't necessarily lose a member of the most expensive pair, but one that has the most meaning for you.

     When David and I once went to Italy, I brought home a pair of earrings. They weren't expensive, but they were a memento from that trip. We had been so happy on that trip that those earrings made me feel a little rush of those same times. When I put them on, I could feel that certain Italian sun that shines on temple stone and nearly smell the wild rosemary in the air.

     I often wear earrings when I go out regardless of what else I'm wearing, because they make me feel good. It's not uncommon for me to wear outrageous earrings while still in my bathrobe, especially if they are new ones. I know a woman who wears astounding, ruby-red lipstick everywhere she goes. Her garish swipe of cherry pucker-up flies in the face of her jeans, her husband's chamois shirt and her muck boots. I frequently see her mowing her back acres on her John Deere with grass clippings plastered all over her, but she looks fine! Some would say she looks ridiculous with that ghoulish gash across her face, but I for one completely understand.

   I once went on a photo trip north of here to shoot elk and deer. It was winter and the snow was deep which proved to be perfect. The cloven hoofed wonders looked pristine in the snow and the reflected light was gorgeous. I wore an oversized sweater with a suede vest lined with shearling pile. My cashmere, fingerless, "photographer's” gloves matched perfectly. I topped off my sumptuous outfit with my Italian earrings. I got lots of great photographs of elk and deer and promptly lost one of the earrings in the hopelessly deep snow. That was years ago, but it still haunts me.

     Every woman knows that you are saddled forever with the one earring that wasn’t lost. They can't be discarded for crimes they didn't commit, each with a blameless soul. I have an entire container devoted to single earrings that have lost their lovers. My lone, Italian earring resides there in my earring orphanage. When I see it, I can feel myself looking for its mate, as if I lost it yesterday and might actually find it. Like old photographs of long lost family, they haunt me and sometimes mock me.  

     The Monday morning quarterbacking solution to this is to always wear earrings with keepers on the backs. Having learned, I now usually do this, but it's not always an answer. Sometimes I forget, I’m hurrying, or simply wearing a pair that isn't constructed correctly for this. Such is the case with the fabulous Bald eagle earrings. I wasn’t going into the bush yesterday, only taking the dog to the vet. But, donning my dynamic, Bald eagle earrings, I felt born aloft! Knowing what can happen without warning to one you love, I compulsively fingered them making sure they were still there.

     Our dog despises the vet. Regardless of what I do to try to fake him out, he always knows that's where we are going. He loves to ride in the car, but I have to get him in hours in advance of departure. If he senses that we are going to the vet, he will not get into the car. He is ten years old and has learned my every nuance. He has also learned that he can get away with blowing me off when I give him a verbal command. I have to be really careful not to telegraph my intent because once I have done so, there is no amount of yelling, cajoling or bribery that will get him to come or get into the car. He cannot be bought nor caught.

     This time, I left the car door open in the yard and ignored him. He got in of his own accord and off we went. But, on pulling into the parking lot at the vet's, he was a wreck. He knew. He shivered, shook, trembled and drooled as if standing before an execution squad. I talked sweetness which didn't work, then had to yank him out of the car. Along with him came the winter's accumulation of trash and assorted articles, which I had to pick up. Flustered and irritated, I tossed a crumpled, paper bag, an empty soda can, and a glove back into the car. "Where's the other glove?" I wondered. Reflexively, I touched my earring.

     When I stood up, the leash with the collar attached hung lax in my hand without the dog. A jolting, black panic filled me. From across the lot, the freed dog looked at me, his face distorted with terror. Then, he headed directly for the road, a busy, local version of the Los Angeles freeway. I called him once, which he barely noticed. I resisted the urge to run after him. Instead, I went to the car and opened the door. "Hey, Perry!" I called as calmly as I could, choking on my own fear, "We're going home, buddy! Come on and get in the car - home!" I tried to sound cheerful. I stepped back from the open car door and thankfully, in he jumped.

     Before I had time to think or feel that sick feeling that comes with catastrophe, a bird flew into the shrubs beside the car. "Oh, my god! It's a shrike!" I grabbed my camera from the front seat, aimed and fired off a round of shots. I could hardly believe my eyes! From the confines of the car, the dog watched me advance closer and closer to the bird. I could not believe what I was seeing! I could hardly wait to post this find on the birding internet!

     To get the dog into the vet’s office and exam room, I had to carry him. At just over forty pounds, he’s not a big dog. However, he weighs more than a third of my total body weight and was not a cooperative subject. The next time, I would definitely harness him! He flailed and splayed his legs out, which of course, caught on the frame of the door jamming us both in the doorway. I almost dropped him! A receptionist watched us blankly from behind the safety of her desk without inclination to help us. Setting him down on the floor, I straightened up, picked a tuft of fur from my lips and checked my earrings. I had them both.

     Though exhausting, it was a great day! I still had the dog, both earrings and I had a great bird! Once home, the dog went directly to bed. I posted my bird to the internet. I was promptly corrected that I had not seen a shrike, but rather, a Northern Mockingbird. A Northern shrike would have been an excellent sighting. A Northern Mockingbird is a good bird for late winter in mid-coast Maine, but not a great bird. I don’t see them often in Phippsburg at any time of year.

     At first glance, I had actually thought it was a Mocker. But then, I was so flustered by having lost the dog that I didn’t think it through before posting to the internet. Embarrassed by this birding faux pas, I imagined the birding elite out there mocking my Mocker. Credibility is central amongst birders. To grossly misidentify a bird in a fit of uncontrolled exuberance was really crapping on my street “cred.”  

     Admittedly, the two songbirds look quite similar. They are both ten inches long, brownish gray, have long tails, and black wings with white bars. Their head shapes are slightly different and shrikes have a hook at the end of the bill. But, the bird’s position could make those points difficult to distinguish. Northern Mockingbirds have a dark stripe through the eye while shrikes have a full mask. However, a first winter shrike’s mask is not as pronounced making it easy to confuse with a Mocker. Both have white eye rings and are fast fliers that like high perches.  A good birder would never have confused the two. However, a really great birder would be wearing terrific earrings and have a camera ready. 

SNOWY NO SHOWY – FULL HUNGER MOON

        The rising, Full Snow or Full Hunger Moon, February, 2012 Phippsburg, Maine

Corona around the February full moon with reflection across Totman Cove, 2012

This is how the corona is created by moonlight. 

 

Bubo scandiacus

The Snowy owl is also called the Ghost Owl, Tundra Ghost, Ookpik or Uppik (Inuit of Alaska), and White Terror of the North. I have my own name for the Snowy owl, "Avis provocateur."

Photographed at Maine Audubon Society program on owls 2009

     The Algonquin, a Native American tribe from what is now the northern and eastern United States, gave distinctive names to each of the recurring full moons. They did this partially to keep track of the seasons. The January full moon was called the Wolf Moon. Outside of Indian villages, packs of hungry wolves howled at the moon while roving on the cold snow pack. Some tribes called the January moon the Full Snow Moon, but most reserved this for the following moon.

     The heaviest snow usually falls in February, so our second full moon of the year was called the Full Snow Moon.  Harsh weather made hunting very difficult, so some tribes called this the Full Hunger Moon. It sends a chill through me when I imagine what that must have meant for people living so close to the earth. To see the full moon ringed with color must have been especially terrifying.
     A halo or corona around the full moon is an uncommon sight. It can only happen, at most, twelve times a year. Of those twelve times, conditions have to be just right. The effect occurs when rays of sunlight (moon light is reflected sunlight) pass through water in the form of ice crystals or droplets in clouds preceding a weather front.  Native Americans would have known that it meant foul weather coming, too. They would have been able to speculate how long before the snow fell by how many stars were visible between the colored ring and the moon.
      In addition to fear, full moons are traditionally associated with insomnia and insanity, hence the word lunatic. When I worked in hospitals, especially on the third shift, we steeled ourselves for anticipated droves of patients coming into the emergency room. Sometimes this panned out, but often a full moon shift would just be one more, dull, long night. Scientific studies do not support that there is any more craziness taking place on the planet on full moon nights than any other.
     I can say that this January and February I have been driven a little crazy, full moon or not. January boasted one of the greatest shows of Northern Lights on the planet, yet I did not catch one bit of it. I tried. Many nights, I stayed up or got up from bed and went outside to check, freezing my keister off. Like a hungry wolf, I stalked the night sky for the Aurora Borealis to no avail. Then, clouds rolled in for days obliterating any chance of it or a sighting of the full, Wolf Moon.
     Toward the end of January and now, into February, the birding internet has been ablaze with chatter about the greatest irruption of Snowy owls in all of ornithology history. Newspapers and television have carried pieces. Even Joe Average, non-birder knows about the irruption of Snowys by now.
     In addition to outstanding numbers of reports of Snowy owls, we have had a remarkably mild winter. Warm temperature records have been broken all over the place. We’ve barely had any snow, either. Joe Average has been overheard to say that the reason the owls are here is because it’s been so warm.
     But, probably the real reason is because the owls’ food source crashed. In the northern most reaches of the planet, the owls eat mostly small rodents called lemmings. It’s likely that the rodent population plummeted due to disease as a cyclic event. The Snowy owls may have had a really good nesting year, too. More owls with less available food means packing up and heading south for food.  But, I have another theory: The elusive Aurora Borealis and the Snowy owls have all come from the north to drive me crazy. Science may not bear out that the full moon provokes insanity, but I can tell you that personally, it does.
     In my life, I have seen two Snowy owls in the wild. Both times were nearly forty years ago. Each time, I was driving at night through snow storms and alone. Like apparitions, the birds appeared from the darkness and flew in front of my car. Illuminated by the headlights, they looked other worldly, like great, winged ghosts. I was startled and though the car’s heater was blasting, a chill went through me. I was at once filled with wonderment. The spectral birds bewitched me; I’d seen something magical and was hooked forever.
     Four decades later, I’m still hungry for the sight of an ethereal Snowy owl. Escalating reports of the birds ferociously stokes my appetite, too! There have been reports of at least five Snowy owls within ten miles of here. Three different birds have been reported on Popham Beach. That’s so close I can hear the surf from my house.
     I have made many frantic trips over there to find the birds. I’ve staggered out of bed before sunrise, nauseous and haggard, but focused. With neither hair nor teeth brushed, my bloodshot eyes swimming like stewed tomatoes in buttermilk, I’ve raced to beat the sunrise to the beach. I’ve hoped to catch the birds starting their morning hunt, but the only one hunting has been me. No less maddening than the dead end trips is to then read on the birding internet that yet another one has been spotted by some other birder within mere miles. It's left me sleepless and dreaming of Snowy owls. It has, indeed been my Full Hunger Moon!
     Our largest, North American owl, the Snowy stands two feet tall with wings that spread six feet! They are fantastic hunters and are regarded by some as symbolic of bravery. Because they can see in the dark, the Snowy owl of legend is believed to help people to see truths.
     If not brave in my pursuit of this phantasmagorical bird, I am persistent. I share with the owl that I will do what it takes and go where I must to feed my needs. And the truth is, that though sometimes frustrated, I will continue look to the sky for shooting stars, ribbons and rings of light and amazing birds.

For more on the irruption of Snowy owls in the United States, check out this link:

http://ebird.org/content/ebird/news/the-winter-of-the-snowy-owl

This blog was chosen as Editor's Pick on Open Salon. It is the thirteenth of my works to be so chosen.

FLYday - American Black Ducks in snow

American Black Ducks in snow, Phippsburg Maine January 2012

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

Quill Pigs and Blue Jay Kabobs- A Five Course Meal

     This is a re-posting of a blog from 2009. Sometimes, I like to look back at old work. I hope you do, too. ' Tis the season for nostalgia!

    I love cooking shows.  One of my favorites is the cooking competition “Iron Chef,” in which a challenger competes against a previously chosen champion. The chefs must create a five-course meal in one hour using a ‘secret ingredient.’ At the last minute, the show’s creator, with a dramatic, theatrical flourish, reveals the secret ingredient. The competition points are based on flavor, presentation and creativity in the use of  said secret ingredient. Each course, including desert, must contain the secret ingredient, which can be something obscure like Sea Squirts. Often, the secret ingredient sounds incompatible with all of the necessary courses.
     I just watched an episode where asparagus was served as an ice cream. Asparagus used as an appetizer, deep-fried and adorned with a chip of fried pancetta made me drool, but they lost me on the green ice cream. So now, ladies and gentlemen, I reveal to you the secret ingredient - PORCUPINE!
   One of my favorite dishes made by my mother was “Porcupines.” There wasn’t any porcupine in it, only meat balls made with rice in them. The ends of the rice stuck out of the meat resembling the quills of the porcupine. As a kid, I loved the adventurous idea of eating a porcupine, though to date, I have not.
     Endemic to the Old and New Worlds, porcupines are the third largest rodents on the planet, coming in behind Capybaras and beavers, which are all edible (I’ve eaten Capybara and it’s delicious). Porcupine is generally only eaten in desperation as it’s fatty and mineraly tasting. The wood pulp, bark and leaves they consume are astoundingly high in potassium imparting that flavor to the meat. One of the reasons they are so destructive is that they constantly seek sodium to offset the potassium they consume. In addition to trees, they eat ax handles, gloves, or anything else that has absorbed salt from sweat.
     The word porcupine comes from the French porc d’epine or “thorny pork.”  Consistent with the reputation of the pig, the ‘Quill Pig” has a voracious appetite. Because tree parts have less than 2% crude protien, less than most breakfast cereals, porkies have to eat a lot! The greatest wild predator of the porcupine is the Fisher.  To avoid the quills, they circle the porcupine repeatedly biting its vulnerable face until it succumbs. A Quill Pig can have 30,000 spines, each with a viciously sharp point and barbed end.
     The quills of North American porkies are two to four inches long, but the African Crested Porcupine’s spines are eight to sixteen inches long!    Long ago, the shafts of birds’ feathers were used as pens called ‘quills’ for their resemblance to hollow porcupine quills. The African porky quill could surely be used as a pen. Porcupines do not throw quills, contrary to popular belief. When threatened, they raise the spines up to make themselves look bigger and will run backwards towards an attacker. Easily loosened from the porky the quills quickly lodge into the attacker’s flesh. Working their way inward at the rate of an inch a day, the quills can be fatal.
    There are reports of Great Horned Owls, Ruffed Grouse, deer, bears, pigs, even a trout, and of course, dogs with embedded quills. I have not found reports of any Blue jays with quills, so this one that appeared at my feeders, may be for the record books.
   Omnivorous Blue jays are also hogs of a kind. I have had an enormous flock of 30-45 of them at my feeders this past week. I’ve had to put food out twice a day to keep up with them and they have driven off most of the other feeder birds. To slow them down a little and to amuse myself, I took a whole peanut in the shell and tied dental floss around the middle, securing the end to the feeder. The Jays try repeatedly to take the peanut only to be hauled backward. It doesn’t hurt them, only humiliates them. I wouldn’t hurt them, no matter how much they ate. I wouldn’t hurt a porcupine, either, though they have chewed on my house in the past. However, I do wonder how they would all taste in a savory pie.

  

                                          A Blue jay kabob with quill skewer - yum!

With thanks to Wikipedia and Marty Stouffer's Wild America

1. Woods, Charles (1984). Macdonald, D.. ed. The Encyclopedia of Mammals. New York: Facts on File. pp. 686–689. ISBN 0-87196-871-1. 
2. Macdonald (Ed), Professor David W. (2006). The Encyclopedia of Mammals. Oxford University Press. ISBN 0-19-920608-2.

FLYday- American Black Ducks

American Black ducks take flight in snow, Phippsburg Maine

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

FLYday - Spotted Sandpiper

Spotted Sandpiper in flight, Phippsburg Maine October

These birds are very fast fliers and are difficult to photograph in flight.

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

FLYday - Great Blue Heron

Great Blue Heron in flight Phippsburg, Maine

FLYday is an homage to what our feathered friends do best, fly.

The Tiniest Kings - Ruby-Crowned and Gold-Crowned Kinglets

Ruby-Crowned Kinglet, Regulus calendula Phippsburg Maine October 21, 2011

The red smudge on the crown of this bird's head raises up to a nice, ruby crest when it's trying to attract chicks during breeding season. It does not fully display its crest often. It's not as flashy as its cousin that sports a golden crown no matter what it's up to. Maybe because it's smaller, the Golden-crowned feels the need be ostentatious.

Gold-crowned Kinglet Regulus satrapa Phippsburg, Maine October 24, 2011

(this bird was a window strike. It lived to rule the forest another day)

     This tiny bird is sitting on the end of my index finger. I have small hands and often wear children's gloves when I garden. It's hard to find gloves that fit so that the finger tip doesn't fold over. That should give you an idea of just how diminutive this bird is. Next to Ruby-throated hummingbirds, these are our smallest birds The Golden-crowned Kinglet in the bottom two images is about four inches from bill tip to tail tip. The Ruby-crowned is a smidge longer at four and a quarter inches. Given how small they are, it must be hard for them to find crowns that fit.
     I feel their pain. Not only are my fingers short, so are my legs. I'm wearing a "petite" bathrobe that is slightly too long. When the Golden-crowned Kinglet hit the window, I leaped to its rescue and almost fell on the floor, hobbled by the hem of the robe. My inseam is only twenty seven inches. To buy pants that don't drag on the ground, I have to shop in obscure places. I can't walk in to a store and buy off the rack and expect a positive outcome. Even when a garment says "short" or "petite" on the label, I can't assume that means short enough for me. Lately, I've been buying pants at Denim & Company, an online  QVC store. Because I have found this source for pants that fit perfectly, I have anxieties that suddenly, the next time I need a new pair, Denim & Company will have vanished. It is a universal rule that when you find a product that you love and become dependent upon, it will  cease to be available. I appreciate many of the challenges these precious birds face out there in the wild. I wonder if the Kinglets have problems while crown shopping. Is there a crown outlet somewhere amidst the vast malls of New Jersey ? If a Kinglet wears a crown that is too big, thus slipping on its head, it could be fatal. My crown has slipped a few times nearly killing me. I get it.

   There are six species of kinglets on the planet. We have two in North America, the ones you see here. The scientific name Regulidae comes from the Latin word regulus for "petty king" or prince. That comes from the colored crowns of adult birds. Loosely, these little guys fall into the class of Old World Warblers along with Thrushes and some of their buddies, the Tits and Dippers, which doesn't sound very classy at all if you ask me! They sound like performers at a strip club.
     Kinglets have an elongated fourth, hind toe for suspending from branches. However, this still doesn't make them good at pole dancing. They perform in the tree tops preferring mixed woods. The Golden-crowned especially likes the tops of conifers, though I often see them in birches and alders. Both kinglets are insect eaters. They will also eat the eggs of insects and the pulp of berries. Their rapid metabolism and small size mandate that they eat constantly, even while nest building. Kinglets that can't eat can lose a third of their body weight in twenty minutes and may starve to death in an hour.They flit and twiddle around at the ends of branches, hovering as they glean bugs from the leaves. Ruby-crowned kinglets are recognizable by their constant wing flicking. Keeping the crown firmly on the head is an imperative during this kind of acrobatic food hunting. They are fast moving, energetic birds that are hard to photograph. They don't sit still for studio work very well, unless stunned like the Golden-crowned shown here.
     Kinglets aren't endangered, though some studies suggest population declines due to habitat loss in some areas. Many of them, though not truly migratory,  move further south from their breeding areas in the winter months. But, many of them stay here. They eat insects in the tree tops all winter and especially fancy the caterpillars of moths and snow fleas. Rumor has it that during the winter, they wash the bugs in their mugs down with single malt Scotch. For me to stay in the top of a spruce tree for the winter, it would take Glenfiddich. And, you could keep the crown.

Thanks in part to:
http://elibrary.unm.edu/sora/Wilson/v107n03/p0558-p0561.pdf

Sibley, David A, The Sibley Guide to Birds, 2000, Pg 394

Cornell Lab of Ornithology http://allaboutbirds.org
http://wikipedia.com

And, Dr. Herb Wilson, Judy Scher, Robeta Lane, AnnieO, Kristen Lindquist, Julia, Sean Smith, Sharon F. and Joel Wilcox for information and resources.

This post just recieved Editor's Pick on Open Salon (http://salon.com). It is my twelfth Editor's Pick.