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Looking Into Black Eyeballs

I've been birding a lot lately both in the field and in my yard, but my 
sightings seemed so routine that I really didn't feel like I had 
anything to post.  But I'd like to share a couple funny things that 
happened today.  Several times, I found myself eyeball-to-eyeball with 
wild creatures.    

I offer my backyard birds water in the morning in a simple plant saucer 
on a board across the corner of the deck rail.  Virtually EVERY bird 
species that comes to my feeders visits the saucer.  The popularity of 
the ol' watering hole motivates me to get that water outside even when 
the thermometer drops to positively unreasonable levels, like today.  

This morning I watered the birds later than usual.  By 8:00 am, the Pine 
Siskins were already stuck all over one of my thistle socks like burrs 
on my pantlegs after walking through the fields at The North Arm.  The 
sock hangs in a tree just 6 feet or so from the deck and the water dish. 
 Siskins and goldfinches frequently flutter between the two. 

I headed outside with my little watering can knowing that sometimes the 
birds are tame and sometimes they're wary. I moved slowly and made a 
little low-volume noise.  My theory for successful close approach to 
birds is that if I don't want to be recognized as a predator, I 
shouldn't act like one.  Predators are silent and move quickly, so I 
make a little noise and move slowly.  

A few siskins flushed off the sock when I emerged out onto the deck.  
Five or so remained, upside down, tipping their heads up nuthatch-like 
as they manipulated thistle seeds in their beaks and watched me 
approach.  I understood they were not alarmed when they returned their 
attention to the sock to wheedle more seeds from the mesh.   

When I reached the deck rail, I slowly lifted the small watering can 
high so the water made an audible splashing sound when it hit the 
saucer.  The birds needed to know the water had arrived.  Cedar Waxwings 
had also remained in place in the trees above the deck when I came 
outside and they visit the saucer almost daily.  I hoped the splashing 
would give them a reason to stand their ground, or their branches, when 
I delivered the water. 

A Pine Siskin gave me a sign that my histrionics were unnecessary.  A 
siskin fluttered off the sock and landed on the board about a foot away 
from me.  He looked up at me and then hopped up on the side of the 
saucer while I was just standing there.  Something caused him to flutter 
away, but another one took his place.  I was looking into the bright and 
bottomless black eyeball of a Pine Siskin.  The bird just wanted water 
from the waterer.  I returned inside to watch the birds drink from the 
other side of the glass.  

My backyard birding ended when a young Cooper's Hawk strafed my yard and 
caused pandemonium.  The Cooper's came up empty, but so was my yard, so 
it was time to go elsewhere to watch birds.

I headed to Ogden Valley and birded a couple spots.  Best sightings in 
Anderson Cove Campground were four young small raccoons about 20 feet up 
in a Russian Olive tree, stripping olives with their "hands" and 
smacking at the olives like they were candy. They finally took notice of 
me when I was about 30 feet away.  With the aid of binoculars, I was 
looking into the bright and bottomless black eyeballs of a quartet of 
young raccoons.  They froze with ears flattened while looking both 
suspicious and sheepish at the same time.  There was no more action to 
be seen while they looked at me like that, so I left them to their 
bonanza of olives.  

The only bird species I found in Huntsville Cemetery was the 
Black-capped Chickadee.  A couple irrepressible sprites were working a 
spruce tree ahead.  A little pishing was in order to bring them back 
toward me.  With little more than three pishes out of my frozen face, 
one of the chickadees came zinging back--not to me, mind you; AT ME.  I 
thought he was going to land on my hat.  It took every ounce of 
discipline to stand my ground as the little black and white and gray 
bullet scribed a scalloping flight path toward my head.  But stand there 
I did.  Aren't I brave in the face of danger posed by a 
fraction-of-an-ounce bird?  

The chickadee veered away at the last minute and landed on a spruce 
bough next to my head.  I turned very slowly and was looking into the 
bright and bottomless black eyeball of a Black-capped Chickadee.  I 
won't say this bird was just a foot away like the Pine Siskin had been 
earlier.  The chickadee had stretched the distance to perhaps 14 inches. 
 And it just wanted to get a good, long look at the oddity that was 
making those very enticing noises.

Today was just one of those days when the outdoor adventures were both 
routine and uncommonly good at the same time.  I didn't realize at the 
start of the day how many times I would exchange inspections with wild 
creatures at fairly close range.  May all of our birding adventures turn 
out as well!

Kris   

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