Lark Sparrows are one the most beautiful American birds.
Side-view of the same Lark Sparrow
Common Raven, Corvus corax
Chinese Goose a.k.a. domestic Swan Goose
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Apollo Park, Lancaster California
Sunday, September 30, 2012
White-winged Dove in Claremont!
White-winged Dove, Zenaida asiatica
Dude, you should be in southern Mexico by now, not suburban L.A.
Wow, all I did was take the Basset Hound out for her morning walk. Well, okay, it is fall migration, and I did take binoculars with me. Here's the thing, though: I was already done checking all of the trees in my neighboorhood park for small passerine migrants hiding up, inside the trees, and there wasn't much there.
Then, when I was walking the dog home I noticed this weird pigeon with a long, hooked bill, and said "What the hell is that?"
When I got the bird through my binos, I just about peed in my pants.
Then, to kick it up a notch, the bird left the park, flew south, and landed on the roof of my house! Of all the houses in the neighborhood, it landed on mine. Unbuhleevable.
The nearest White-winged Dove breeding population is at the Salton Sea.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
9/11
How do you explain 9/11 to a 6 year-old?
I pulled my back, last night, and after a visit to the chiropractor, this afternoon, headed over to Target to buy a big bottle of Advil gel-caps. My 6 year-old asked if she could go with me.
Sure, Beautiful, hop in.
I pulled into the Target parking lot, and she asked, “Dada, is today an America day, like Fourth of July?”
“Eh…kind of. Did you learn about it in school?”
“No. Ethan (her fellow first-grader) said that it’s the day we started a war, and beat the bad guys.”
“Well, not exactly, Maggie-Pie. Let me explain. A long time ago, 5 years before you were born…”
“…were you a little kid?”
“No, I was a grown up with a job. I worked in downtown L.A.”
“Was that USC?”
“No. I worked at another building for another company.”
“Oh. Was it a hospital?”
“Yeah. So, what happened was—you know how pirates take over a ship?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, some very bad people took over a couple of airplanes—like pirates—and made them crash into these two building that used to be the tallest buildings in the world, when I was your age. They were called the Twin Towers.”
“Oh my god, that’s really big! Wait. If they crashed the airplanes into the tall building, then they died, too!”
“Yeah.”
“That’s dumb. Why did they do that?”
“Because they were very bad.”
“Oh. Then what happened?”
“Well, I was still at home at my house, making coffee, when the first plane hit the tall buildings, and I heard about it on the radio, so I turned on the TV, and believe it or not, I saw the second plane crash into the buildings.”
“Oh my god!”
“That was bad, but the worst part was still coming. When the airplanes hit the Twin Towers, at first only the people on the airplanes and the people inside that part of the buildings died. A bunch of firemen, police, and paramedics all ran and drove their fire trucks and police cars over there, and started helping people out of the building. The fire got worse, and the buildings fell to the ground. A lot more people died, including a lot of fire men and police men.”
“Were you there?”
“No, Baby. That was in New York, all the way across America, really far away.”
“Did you go home?”
“From work? No, but everybody else who worked in L.A. did. I…”
And that’s when I started crying. Great. I’m parked in a 10 year-old Toyota Celica in the parking lot at Target, sitting behind the steering wheel, and tears are rolling down my cheeks, uncontrollably. I want to tell Maggie Pie about how we stood there inside the HealthCare Partners building in downtown L.A., and by 11:00 there were no cars anywhere. The Harbor Freeways was empty. The Hollywood Freeway was empty. So was the 10. All of the skyscrapers were empty. The only people who either stayed at work, or reported to work---despite the very real fear that airplanes would crash into the Library Tower—the tallest building west of the Mississippi River, were hospital employees. HealthCare Partners was ‘only’ an outpatient facility, but with a fully staffed 24 hour Urgent Care, and a full radiology department, we stayed.
Just in case.
Our boss gave us the option of going home, and made it clear that no one would judge us if we were afraid, and evacuated.
As far as we knew Los Angeles was next. We were absolutely convinced that we were in mortal danger. When word came that morning that the Air Force now ruled the skies, and that any stray airplanes that refused to do what they were told would be promptly shot down, our shoulders sagged. When word came that there was no longer a single private or commercial airplane aloft over North America, and that fighter pilots had full license to shoot down anything they didn’t like, we sighed with relief.
My friend, and fellow x-ray tech, Kathy Izquierdo and I stood outside on the sidewalk, and watched as angry fighter jets patrolled downtown L.A.. Back and forth. Back and forth. The only two sounds in the world that we could hear were the steady hum of the air conditioner on the roof of our building, and the thunder of twin engines each time an F-15 whooshed overhead.
I pulled my back, last night, and after a visit to the chiropractor, this afternoon, headed over to Target to buy a big bottle of Advil gel-caps. My 6 year-old asked if she could go with me.
Sure, Beautiful, hop in.
I pulled into the Target parking lot, and she asked, “Dada, is today an America day, like Fourth of July?”
“Eh…kind of. Did you learn about it in school?”
“No. Ethan (her fellow first-grader) said that it’s the day we started a war, and beat the bad guys.”
“Well, not exactly, Maggie-Pie. Let me explain. A long time ago, 5 years before you were born…”
“…were you a little kid?”
“No, I was a grown up with a job. I worked in downtown L.A.”
“Was that USC?”
“No. I worked at another building for another company.”
“Oh. Was it a hospital?”
“Yeah. So, what happened was—you know how pirates take over a ship?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, some very bad people took over a couple of airplanes—like pirates—and made them crash into these two building that used to be the tallest buildings in the world, when I was your age. They were called the Twin Towers.”
“Oh my god, that’s really big! Wait. If they crashed the airplanes into the tall building, then they died, too!”
“Yeah.”
“That’s dumb. Why did they do that?”
“Because they were very bad.”
“Oh. Then what happened?”
“Well, I was still at home at my house, making coffee, when the first plane hit the tall buildings, and I heard about it on the radio, so I turned on the TV, and believe it or not, I saw the second plane crash into the buildings.”
“Oh my god!”
“That was bad, but the worst part was still coming. When the airplanes hit the Twin Towers, at first only the people on the airplanes and the people inside that part of the buildings died. A bunch of firemen, police, and paramedics all ran and drove their fire trucks and police cars over there, and started helping people out of the building. The fire got worse, and the buildings fell to the ground. A lot more people died, including a lot of fire men and police men.”
“Were you there?”
“No, Baby. That was in New York, all the way across America, really far away.”
“Did you go home?”
“From work? No, but everybody else who worked in L.A. did. I…”
And that’s when I started crying. Great. I’m parked in a 10 year-old Toyota Celica in the parking lot at Target, sitting behind the steering wheel, and tears are rolling down my cheeks, uncontrollably. I want to tell Maggie Pie about how we stood there inside the HealthCare Partners building in downtown L.A., and by 11:00 there were no cars anywhere. The Harbor Freeways was empty. The Hollywood Freeway was empty. So was the 10. All of the skyscrapers were empty. The only people who either stayed at work, or reported to work---despite the very real fear that airplanes would crash into the Library Tower—the tallest building west of the Mississippi River, were hospital employees. HealthCare Partners was ‘only’ an outpatient facility, but with a fully staffed 24 hour Urgent Care, and a full radiology department, we stayed.
Just in case.
Our boss gave us the option of going home, and made it clear that no one would judge us if we were afraid, and evacuated.
As far as we knew Los Angeles was next. We were absolutely convinced that we were in mortal danger. When word came that morning that the Air Force now ruled the skies, and that any stray airplanes that refused to do what they were told would be promptly shot down, our shoulders sagged. When word came that there was no longer a single private or commercial airplane aloft over North America, and that fighter pilots had full license to shoot down anything they didn’t like, we sighed with relief.
My friend, and fellow x-ray tech, Kathy Izquierdo and I stood outside on the sidewalk, and watched as angry fighter jets patrolled downtown L.A.. Back and forth. Back and forth. The only two sounds in the world that we could hear were the steady hum of the air conditioner on the roof of our building, and the thunder of twin engines each time an F-15 whooshed overhead.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Things with Wings
Ah, the boredom of the summer doldrums has been broken by the arrival of fall migration.
Scissor-tailed Flycatcher
Sepulveda Basin 8/26/2012
Dragonfly 1
9/1/2012
Baker Sewage Treatment Plant, Baker, California
Dragonfly 2
9/1/2012
Baker Sewage Treatment Plant, Baker, California
Zebra-tailed Lizard
Callisaurus draconoides
Baker, California
Wait, what's with the pictures of dragonflies and lizards? Oh, yeah! Johnny Bovee found a White Ibis at the Baker Sewage Treatment Ponds. Woo-hoo! There hasn't been one reported in California since I started birding in 1992. I haven't seen one since my last trip deep down into Baja California, 700 miles south of the U.S. border. Yeah, yeah, I know: they're in Texas, Louisiana, and Florida, but I'm not. So why did one show up halfway between my house in Claremont, and Las Vegas???
Needle in a haystack?
No: White Ibis in a flock of White-faced Ibis.
White Ibis
Baker, California 9/1/2012
This stupid White Ibis did the same thing that the Roseate Spoonbill did in Phoenix, Arizona: it kept hiding among the local birds, in places where you can only see if by staring into the sun, as a safety precaution. Lost e.g. vagrant birds use this tactic to survive in an unfamiliar environment.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Arizona August 2012
Mexican Jay Aphelocoma wollweberi
These guys are not the same species as the Western Scrub Jays in your back yard.
For some reason, looking at this bird makes me want some whiskey.
A lot of effort is being put into keeping them from going extinct.
Broad-billed Hummingbird
Mexican Spotted Owl
The Mexican population of Spotted Owls spill over into Southeast Arizona. Given their geographical isolation from the Spotted Owls in California, along with their different calls, many consider them to be a separate species.
Butterfly 1
Butterfly 2
Painted Lady Vanessa cardui
Butterfly 3
Butterfly 3
American Snout
One of the most bizarre-looking butterflies.
Butterfly 4
Butterfly 5: Marine Blue Leptotes marina ???
Butterfly 6
"My mother's coming to visit."
"In that case, I'm going fishing,"
No, you're not!"
"Yes, I am!"
"You've been drinking!"
"Only beer. Gimme a kiss!
"Go away. I hate you!"
Pipevine Swallowtail Battus philenor
Butterfly 7: Elada Checkerspot ???
Arizona Sister or Mexican Sister
Considered by some to be a race of California Sister, Adelpha bredowii, but considered to be a full species by others.
Butterfly 8: Checkered White pontia protodice ???
Roseate Spoonbill
Glendale Recharge Ponds August 19th, 2012.
It was 104F when I took this photo from 200 yards away, so I don't want to hear any complaints.
Yes, this is the Tombstone that they keep making movies about.
Shooting bad guys is hard work. Union rules says we get half an hour for lunch.
Car we saw in the parking lot at Boot Hill, where they buried people in Tombstone.
Would you hire ghost busters whose marketing budget allowed for one can of window marker paint?
Hey, these guys could use the services of GIT!
Wilson's Phalaropes
Glendale Recharge Ponds
This is a nervous smile.
I told Csaba that it's legal to wear your gun in Arizona.
He didn't believe me until we ran into a birder at Miller Canyon who had a .45 automatic.
Yellow-billed Cuckoo
The price we paid for getting glimpses of this bird while standing in tall grass at the monastery in St. David, Arizona in the summer was a nice case of chiggers. I am typing this with one hand, while scratching my ankles with the other.
Curve-billed Thrasher Toxostoma curvirostre
One of the few birds that I can imitate, and succeed in calling out of hiding.
Miko, if you add me onto your year list, I will peck your eyes out!
Dragonfly 1
Dragonfly 2
Dragonfly 3
Dragonfly 4
Dragonfly 5
Dude, where's my tail?
Sonoran Spotted Whiptail
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
YOU DON’T NEED THE PIZZA
So I’m at Costco with my kids, just hanging out. I just ordered a pizza, and have to wait 50 minutes, so I need to kill time while they’re baking it. I’m pushing the shopping cart, aimlessly wandering around the store, trying to delay my arrival at the book section, where I will read the same back covers of the same books that I examined last week. I did the same thing, then: I ordered a pizza, and hung out inside the air-conditioned store. I could hang out outside, in the food court, where it is literally 108 degrees Fahrenheit (42 Celsius) It’s 105 at my house, but the concrete food court here is like a walk-in brick oven.
I see an old guy sitting on a bench. Along with clothing, computers, televisions, vacuum cleaners, camping gear, and food, Costco sells indoor and outdoor furniture. Tired customers think nothing of taking a break on whatever living room sofa or patio bench is on sale. The old guy has a terrible haircut, and has a grumpy look on his face. He is wearing shorts, so his right leg prosthesis is there for all the world to see.
Hm…missing leg…around sixty-something years old…yeah, he’s a Vietnam veteran. Bouncing Betty must have blown his leg off. Betty’s a bitch. Hey, I’ll talk with him about my book, Roadside Rest, a fictional autobiography of a female Army sergeant who loses her leg in Iraq. I’ll chat him up. Get him and his other legless friends interested. Spread the word. Get people to buy my book (It hasn’t been published yet: we’re shooting for October) via word-of-mouth. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. That’s a great idea. So I walk up to him.
“Excuse me, sir. Can I talk with you for a minute?”
“YEAH, SURE.”
“My name is Tom.”
“MY NAME IS CARL.” Carl is loud.
“Hi, Carl. May I ask you a personal question?”
“SURE.”
“How’d you lose your leg?”
“I’M DIABETIC.”
Ah, shit. He was supposed to say, “Da Nang, 1969. Mortar rounds.” Well, I don’t want to be a rude jerk, so I say, “Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed that it was a war wound. I was interested because I wrote a novel about a soldier who loses her leg in Iraq, and I was interested in whether or not you would be interested in a book like that.”
“HELL NO, I WOULDN’T BE INTERESTED IN A BOOK LIKE THAT! THERE’S ALL KINDS OF REAL PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO HAD THAT HAPPEN TO THEM. I’D RATHER READ THAT BOOK.”
I’m standing there, looking at my new friend, Carl, and thinking (but not saying out loud!) the following:
Now, Carl, you’re saying things that are causing me to doubt myself. I just spent 2 years writing this book, and now you’re telling me that no one in the universe would be interested in this story that I put a lot of time and energy into. I’m a writer, Carl. Writers are not very self-confident people. We walk around doubting and second-guessing everything we do, and every word that we write. I don’t need you to bludgeon my sensitive artist’s soul, Carl. Please don’t do that to me.
Well, I just need to thank him for his time, and leave him alone. He probably has a complex about not serving his country during the war, and I’ve reminded him of his shortcomings as a man, so I should just go away, and leave the poor soul alone.
I say, “Well, thank you for your time. I’m here with my kids…” I point at my son and daughter, who are playing inside the shopping cart. “…and we’re just browsing while we wait for our pizza that we ordered—”
Carl points at my round belly and proclaims, “YOU DON’T NEED A PIZZA!!!”
“Well, yeah…um…er…uh…it’s coming up on dinner time, and I need to feed them—”
Carl points at my kids and barks, “THEY DON’T NEED A PIZZA!!!”
Oh shit, I’m trapped. I’m stuck with a grumpy diabetic. I need to get away from Carl, and I need to get the hell away from him right now. There are certain people you want to avoid:
1. Ex-smokers. These people make fanatical terrorists look like amateurs. God help you, if you ever light a cigarette, pipe, or a cigar in front of an ex-smoker. They will start frothing at the mouth, and commence berating you for your irresponsible, selfish behavior.
2. Recovering alcoholics: See # 2, above. Exchange the word ‘pipe’ with ‘scotch on the rocks’, and see what happens.
3. Diabetics. Oy vey, they’re the worst. The worst, I tell you. Diabetics are convinced that if you don’t take their unsolicited advice—if you don’t put down that cheeseburger right now—you’re going to come down with a rabid case of diabetes in the next 24 hours. Diabetics are the ultimate diet Nazis.
Here’s the problem: I just had a full work-up. I asked my doctor to do a comprehensive check up on me. Why? Because I work in health care, I’m fat, I’m in my 40s, and I’m a flaming hypochondriac. People who work in health care are the worst hypochondriacs.
Uh oh, there’s a lump under my skin. Oh my God, it’s a tumor. I have a tumor.
Two days later when the tumor turns out to be summer heat rash, the sigh of relief can be heard across town.
What Carl doesn’t know about me is that my blood sugar is awesome, and I have the cholesterol levels of a 22 year old vegan marathon runner. My chest x-ray and abdominal ultrasound are normal.
It’s not fair, it’s not right, but it’s what nature gave me. But then again, I walk the 1 mile from my house to the train station every morning, and walk home in the afternoon. Once I get home, I take the Basset Hound for her 1 mile walk at a fast clip. Before watching TV tonight, I swam 5 laps in our pool (it's not an olympic-sized pool, but hey, cut me some slack).
I could go on and on about this topic, but NCIS is coming on in 5 minutes, my kids are asleep, and there’s a carton of Cherry Vanilla ice cream in the freezer. I need to find that really big spoon I like to use…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)