Mocker Muddle - Northern Shrike or Northern Mockingbird?

 

Northern Mockingbird, Mimus polyglottos Brunswick, Maine February 2012

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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. 

Departure Day- American Robin & Pileated Woodpeckers

Pileated woodpeckers have a long, thick tongue for licking up the insects that flee from the holes they hammer out. In the top and bottom left photos, the red cheek stripe of the male is evident.
I had speculated that the young Pileated woodpeckers were about to leave the nest and I was correct. When last I saw them, they were doing a little practice drumming on the rim of the hole, as you can see in the bottom right photo. The little girl has her tongue out on the edge to lick up any insects which may have come out after she banged on the wood. Of course, this was just practice as little to nothing lives in a chemically treated telephone pole. They were also calling a watered down version of the classic "Kee-kee-kee-kuk-kuk" and a rasping hiss which was more childlike sounding to me. Their nest cavity was on Hermit Island where all the campsites are (I can tell you that now that it is no longer a nest cavity but just an empty hole). The wee woodpeckers will stay with their parents all summer learning to find food. They will be hungry, but not efficient at finding eats. So, they will be pounding a lot more holes than the adults need to. The campers will hear them knocking with what sounds like a hammer drumming on wood all summer starting early in the morning. "Knock-knock-knock-knock! Get up!" They left the nest cavity sometime around lunchtime yesterday.

At our house, across Small Point Harbor from where that action was taking place, an American robin couple had a nest in the Baltic ivy on the side of our house by the front door. For about a month, I had been watching the parents slipping in and out of the ivy until I could identify where the nest was. One day, they picked up their pace and were energetically carrying food with them. I knew they had gone from sitting on eggs to feeding chicks. In a few days, I could hear the little rascals, too. I had expected that any day now, there would be silence because they, too would be leaving home. And sure enough! I heard this tremendous racket of alarm calling out in the yard. I grabbed the camera and went to investigate. Our dog, Perry was sitting on the lawn looking at this young robin. He had not touched it, but the parents were raising the roof yelling at him and swooping around him. He seemed quite confused and uncertain about all the noise. He is a Shiba inu. They were bred to flush birds from bushes, but I don't imagine that he would ever have been very good at that. He was curious about the little bird, but not in a 'lunch menu' sort of way. I took him into the house, then went back to watch the little one. Sure enough, he was able to fly a few feet on his own. Very much the dawdler, he took his time hopping and flying toward the garden. He disappeared and I saw his Dad reunite  with him in the woods. The nest is silent, now. I don't know if he was the only one or if the others managed to slip away undetected. That would certainly be better if they just got up in the middle of the night, packed a light suitcase leaving a note in the kitchen before disappearing.

Creative Is A Restless Dog

Anonymous recently asked me if my brain ever shuts off. “Where do your ideas come from? Do you wake up thinking of this stuff ?” Yes, I wake up thinking of this stuff, I go to sleep thinking of this stuff and sometimes I dream this stuff. My brain never shuts off. A kaleidoscope of thoughts constantly turns inside my head. Everything I see turns the barrel a notch changing the colors. It’s maddening and exhausting. I wake up feeling like I've been at meetings all night long, meetings where no one read Roberts Rules Of Order. I just live with squirrels in the attic. Medication helps, but that’s all: helps. It takes some of the edge off, allows me to sleep some, but not always.
………………………………........

RESTLESS DOG

That dog is gone
again.
Run out
across creation,
doing
only he knows what.
Don’t know how
he slips
his rope,chain, noose
again.
Thinks he can
fly.
Most dream,
few succeed.
Always comes
Home
again.
To curl in
his patch of dirt
Rest up awhile
before he’s off
again.
Legs twitch,
lips release
A half yelp in sleep
dream sounds
Only dogs hear.
Urge tickles
his ears, jumps up
and he’s off
again.

Pets and Personalities

Perry occasionally watches television. Here, he's watching Meerkat Manor on Animal Planet. He's only really into educational programming. Easy is more of a General Hospital kind of dog. Perry also dials the telephone. If he can access a handset, he will repeatedly punch in numbers then wait for the audible call failure signal. Then, he'll dial again. For the amusement of our guests, we put the phone on the floor and say "Hey Perry! Want to call your lawyer? Go ahead, call your lawyer." And dial he does, every time. When we leave the house we make sure all the phones are in their cradles. We realized that he might call Korea or Bali or someplace really far away. We are afraid that if we received a bill for a call like that that we'd never be able to convince the phone company to remove the charges because our dog had made the call. We do realize that if the dogs need to call 911 while we are out that it could be a problem. Easy would be completely dependent upon Perry for an emergency call. She could never dial the phone. She's just not intelligent enough in that kind of way. She's not a technical person. Perry is brilliant. However, he is sort of aloof. He's not an emotionally very connected dog. In fact, he's more like a cat than a dog (he's even more like a cat than our cat!). We've often remarked that if Perry were human, he would probably be diagnosed with Autism - Asperger's Syndrome or something. He shows clear areas of very high intelligence, but emotional detachment. He does not depend upon nor need humans for any reason. Easy, on the other hand is emotionally very needy. We call her 'Easy' because she is not easy at all. Her area of expertise is being cute. She really knows how to work a room full of people, sort of like a beautiful, neurotic movie star. She's demanding, needy, dependent, and clingy. She has to be with me at all times, under my feet. She barks incessantly. Perry rarely barks at all. He is only inclined to do so for some really compelling provocation like a turkey or a moose. Easy barks if the wind blows, or a leaf falls or the phone rings. In fact, when I try to talk on the phone she looks right at me and barks, demanding my attention. How dare I be talking to someone other than her! As a dog owner, it pains me to admit that many times, I've had to lock myself in a bathroom in order to talk with a girl friend on the phone. The dog will sit outside the door, continuing to bark at me, too. My kids used to do that to me, too. But, I was able to teach them not to, or at least, I waited them out, and they left home. So, I was eventually able to have peace while on the phone. But, not anymore. I know I should have more control over the dog, but truthfully, I don't. I never taught Perry to dial the phone. He just did it on his own. When I give him the phone and ask if he wants to call his lawyer, it's not a command from me. He already knew how to do it. It just looks like I taught him something tricky. It's actually he who trained me. I admire people who have perfectly trained dogs, hunting dogs, dogs that do agility courses flawlessly, etc. And, I've always felt that it is a positive thing for people to have relationships with other species (Personally, I gravitate toward mammals; I've never really understood the Boa Constrictor/Iguana/glowering Parrot attraction). But, I have to admit: I'm a lazy pet owner. I don't have what it takes to ride herd on them all the time, to be 'THE BOSS.' I'm a pack dog, not an alpha dog. And, I need them to love me, to look at me balefully with bottomless desire. I too, am a needy, neurotic star in my own mind with odd intelligences and bursts of inconsistent brilliance. And one day, I may need them to dial 911.

Useless Bum

I just wanted to point out that at least one of our dogs was not always a useless bum. This photo was a few years ago. We had not had Perry very long, so he felt it was necessary to impress us with his bravery. Now, he knows better. He stays in bed most of the time checking his watch to see how close it is to chow time. In this shot, he was at a full stand down, "Hey! You! Big dumb pony, get out of my yard!" This cow moose just appeared out of nowhere. Again, though I was in my underware and it was the crack of dawn, I had my camera at the ready for just this kind of moment. That was a 1 megapixel Fugi Finepix! Wow, how times have changed. Perry spent the rest of that day with his nose jammed into the hoof prints of that moose, snorting and huffing (Perry, not the moose) and strutting around. It would wear him out so that he had to take a lot of naps. The second he woke up, though, he was right back at it, just in case it came back. It never did, either! Perry behaved much the same way today when I finally let him out after I was convinced the turkeys were long gone. Perry wasn't convinced that they were gone and spent a lot of time checking in the underbrush and behind the statue. No luck. He's checking his watch again.