Crowning Glory

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Winter Texans have arrived in Central Texas.  They’re here in the form of seed and insect munching, delightfully feather-sporting, song-singing warblers.  I’m in warbler-watching nirvana because these birds are such pretties: tiny and colorful, sweet-faced and dulcet-voiced, warbler-watching provides great entertainment as I observe their bird business in the trees, at the perennials, and along the pathways.

I’m enjoying suet and peanuts visits from a female Orange-crowned Warbler, Leiothlypis celata, and recently, this little Yellow-rumped Warbler, Setophaga coronata, has joined in with some autumn/winter decoration of my garden.

Her cheery cap is charming and that flash of sunshine under the wings?  It positively swoon worthy!  Her little face is darling, too.

But(t) the crowning glory is–drum roll–her yellow bum.

Affectionately called Butter Butts  by avid birders, Yellow-rumped warblers’ show of their lemony rear-ends appears when they’re flying and when hunting for seeds on the ground.

Celebrating cute bird bums, I’m happy to join with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette–check out other colorful butts or perhaps less bottom-centric garden musings for today.

Munchies

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A bevy of beautiful birds are noshing in the garden.

Three males and a female enjoying lunch.

Lesser Goldfinches, Spinus psaltria, come and go throughout the year, but I can set my calendar by their appearance in the garden buffet during autumn when the Plateau Goldeneye, Viguiera dentata, are creating seeds.

After all, that’s how the plants and the birds rock-n-roll with one another: seeds are produced at the end of flowering and for the nourishment of the birds, and the birds, in turn, spread the seeds to other places to grow, bloom, seed. It’s an ancient complementary relationship and one worthy of watching and appreciating.

 

Eat or be Eaten

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I watched the Downy Woodpecker, Dryobates pubescens, for several minutes.   She was rock-still:  nothing moved, not a feather, despite the gentle sway of the feeder and the clasped piece of peanut in her beak.  Because she was motionless–abnormal for a bird–I realized that there must be a predator nearby.

I Downy-watched from my kitchen window, my favorite bird blind.  Even with my movements at the window–slow and careful, as not to startle the little bird–she didn’t move: no head turn, no shuffle of claws, no gulp of the prized peanut, nor snatch of another.  From my standing position, no predator was obvious, so I squatted at the window, looking up into the oak tree just beyond and around at the outdoors as best I could see.

I finally spotted that which froze, in fear, the heart of the would-be feeding woodpecker. The culprit perched far across my property, high in the neighbors’ elm tree.

The photo is poor, taken through the window and at some distance, with plenty of foliage and limbs as distractions.  The hawk is a big one, probably a Cooper’s Hawk, Accipiter cooperii, as they’re common here, especially in autumn, winter, and early spring.

The Downy was still for a good five minutes, maybe longer.  Finally the hawk took flight toward my house, but high above.  A split second afterwards the Downy pushed off from the feeder, heading in the same direction as the hawk, though much farther below and toward the protection of a large evergreen shrub.

I don’t know if the hawk swooped in for the woodpecker, though I doubt that’s what happened; there’s too much cover which would serve as safety for the woodpecker and too much interference for the hawk’s dive.  I imagine the hawk winged to another part of the neighborhood in search of an easier catch, one less aware of the hawk’s existence.

It was an eat or be eaten life-cycle moment.  I’m certain the woodpecker finally ate her peanut, because I’ve seen her since.  And I’m equally certain the hawk found something to eat; I’m just not sure what, when, or where.

Appreciative for the life lessons a garden bestows, I’m joining today with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette.   Check out her beautiful Flutter and Hum for musings of various sorts.