Here are links to all the Birdtober poems I wrote in October. It was fun! I hope to do it again next year!
Day 20: Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill
1 hour ago
Thursday, October 31, 2024
Wednesday, October 30, 2024
Birdtober Day Thirty-One: African Wood-Owl
Day 31. I could write about a Burrowing Owl, which I've seen and loved, but I decided instead to write about the owl in my own yard here in Kampala. I mostly hear this species, but I've also seen it, in the Botanical Garden in Entebbe.
Photo Source: eBird.com
Awake, 2 AM
Hoots menacing, comforting
You're awake too, owl
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Tuesday, October 29, 2024
Birdtober Day Thirty: African Green-Pigeon
I love green birds. There's something so tropical about them. I haven't seen this species in a while, but I really enjoy them. In the past I've seen them at school more than once. Listen to their sounds in the video below. (Bonus: there's also a Red-eyed Dove calling, starting halfway through the video; you can read about those sounds here.)
Photo Source: eBird.com
African Green-Pigeon
You are cute beyond belief;
Green, but noisier than a leaf.
Bluish eye and purple wing,
And that growly, cackly way you sing!
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
One more day of Birdtober! See you tomorrow!
Monday, October 28, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty-Nine: Roseate Spoonbill
Photo Source: eBird.com
Roseate Spoonbill
Bird of cotton candy pink.
bending down to get a drink,
using your bill like tongs in salad
and singing your weird, croaky ballad:
Milliners once sought your feathers,
but now your birdy get-togethers
are safe and calm; you may seek fish,
mollusks, crustaceans, what you wish.
You won’t be made into a hat,
and we can all be glad of that.
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Birdtober Day Twenty-Eight: Mosque Swallow
I had really hoped to see a Mosque Swallow during our recent trip to Lake Mburo because it was one of the likely birds listed. Unfortunately, I did not see one.
A page from Birds of East Africa
I found this poem called "Masjid/Mosque," by Urdu poet Akhtar ul Iman. There's a swallow in the poem:
Or a swallow, at the approach of winter,
Seeks the mosque out for making its nest;
And curling up for hours in the broken arch
Tells the story of cold countries.
The mosque in this poem is abandoned, and no longer used for worship. That fits with the Mosque Swallow, which, according to what I've read, prefers abandoned buildings if it chooses to nest in a building. It also likes hollow trees, particularly baobab trees. But the swallow in the poem can't be a Mosque Swallow, because they don't migrate from cold countries, though they sometimes move around based on where it is raining. I am starting to think, after mostly unsuccessfully hunting for references to swallows in mosques, that the name comes from an attempt to place these swallows geographically, since they are found in Africa and Asia, often in areas where mosques would be frequent. Swallows in general do have a reputation for nesting around humans, hence the name Barn Swallow. There's a reference in Psalm 84 to a swallow nesting in the temple: "Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young - a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God. Blessed are those who dwell in your house; they are ever praising you" (Psalm 84:3-4).
Mosque Swallow
The swallow
has found
a home
in the abandoned
mosque.
She swoops
and
soars
to catch
termites,
makes
a chewed
clump of bugs
for her babies,
waiting for her
in their nest
of mud.
Blessed,
blessed
is she.
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Sunday, October 27, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty-Seven: Striped Kingfisher
Today's calendar says "Artist's Choice," meaning that I have to choose what bird to write about. There are so many I could have picked. I decided I wanted to write about one of the lifers (birds seen for the first time) I've had this month. We have a week off in October, and my husband and I went to Lake Mburo, in Western Uganda. There are many species in that part of the country that we don't have here, and during that trip I got fifteen lifers. They were all exciting, but I decided to write about the Striped Kingfisher. On the 4th I told you that I had seen nine different kingfisher species (in three countries). While at Lake Mburo I saw my tenth! It was the Striped Kingfisher.
Photo Source: eBird.com
Striped Kingfisher
Halcyon chelicuti
Halcyon bird
of blue and brown,
my Kingfisher species
number ten:
welcome to my list
of treasures.
Outsiders found you in 1814
in Chelicut, Ethiopia,
but you’d been around long before.
They added you to their list
of treasures.
I found you in 2024,
when the guide pointed up at you
where you watched, impassive,
from your tree.
I know you don’t care,
but I sure enjoyed
seeing and hearing you,
Striped Kingfisher.
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Here are the ten kingfisher species on my life list:
Belted Kingfisher - US
Ringed Kingfisher - Paraguay
Amazon Kingfisher - Paraguay
Green Kingfisher - Paraguay
Pied Kingfisher - Uganda
Woodland Kingfisher - Uganda
Malachite Kingfisher - Uganda
African Pygmy Kingfisher - Uganda
Giant Kingfisher - Uganda
Striped Kingfisher - Uganda
Saturday, October 26, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty-Six: Red-tailed Hawk
I'll never forget the day I first saw a Red-tailed Hawk. In Haiti they call them Malfini, though a bit of Googling suggests that the Malfini is used in other places for the Broad-winged Hawk. We were out hiking in February of 2020, and we met a man who offered to show us a nest. I thought he meant a Palmchat nest, because I had been asking him questions about one of those, but when after a little bit of a walk he pointed upwards, an enormous head appeared in my binoculars' viewfinder. For a moment I thought there was something wrong with my eyes, since the head was so very much larger than what I had been expecting to see. And then a few minutes later, the bird I had seen and its mate whooshed down at us because we had come too close. Our guide introduced us to his employer, who lived in a house right nearby. We were invited in for mint tea, and our host teared up when he told us that the Red-tailed Hawk nesting within sight of his home was the best thing that had happened to him that year. The whole experience felt magical to my husband and me. It was one of the best things that happened to us that year.
Protective parents
Dive-bomb human intruders
Screeching warningly
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Thursday, October 24, 2024
Poetry Friday: Birdtober Day Twenty-Five: Cedar Waxwing
Here are my Birdtober posts so far:
Week 1 (October 1-4): (Plush-crested Jay, American Robin, Mountain Bluebird, Giant Kingfisher)
Week 2 (October 5 - 10): (Eastern Plantain-eater, Red-winged Blackbird, Cardinals, Black-headed Heron, Gray Crowned-Crane, Speckled Mousebird)
Week 3 (October 11-18): (Red-billed Firefinch, House Wren, White-necked Crow, Red-headed Woodpecker, Red-eyed Dove, Rüppell's Starling, House Sparrow)
Week 4:
Day 20: Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill
At most of these links you can find the prompts I'm using.
Today's bird is the Cedar Waxwing. I've seen them eight times, in South Dakota, Kentucky, and Tennessee. They are such lovely birds.
Photo Source: eBird.com
Cedar Waxwing
The natty Cedar Waxwings,
while always quite well-dressed
sometimes steal other birds’ supplies
when building a new nest.
They eat so much delicious fruit
that they get drunk on lunch
but also dine on flowers
or a bug or two to crunch.
They give small gifts while courting
and hang out after snacks.
They’re dapper in appearance,
with wings tipped, bright, with wax.
Disreputable bandits
yet charming, friendly fellows:
natty Cedar Waxwings
in grays and browns and yellows.
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Come back next week for links to all my 2024 Birdtober posts! Carol has this week's roundup.
Wednesday, October 23, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty-Four: American Goldfinch
Today I'm back to birds I've seen. The American Goldfinch is quite common all over the United States, and it's bright and beautiful. Interestingly, its scientific name is Spinus tristis. The second part means sad, and I read that it got that name because its call sounds sad. It doesn't sound sad to me; listen here and see what you think.
Photo Source: eBird.com
American Goldfinch
(Spinus tristis)
Are you sad, little goldfinch,
as your name suggests?
Are you sad,
flitting, bright yellow,
through warm places,
landing on feeders
and snacking on sunflower seeds,
brightening everyone’s day?
When you’re singing
“potato chip”
are those notes sad?
Hard to tell, little goldfinch.
Just like with people.
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
(Here's a post from 2022 about what goes through my mind when I see yellow and black birds here in East Africa.)
Tuesday, October 22, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty-Three: Painted Bunting
Today's bird is another one I have never seen, though I would very much like to. eBird enthuses: "Incomparably beautiful songbird in which adult males are almost too
colorful, with a jarring combination of rich blue head, bright red
underparts, and lime green back." This description made me think of Edna St. Vincent Millay's line in her poem "God's World": "Lord I do fear/Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year." I wrote an excited poem to go along with all this high praise, and I didn't even edit out the exclamation marks as I usually would - they seemed appropriate for this guy.
Photo Source: eBird.com
Painted Bunting
Too beautiful, too colorful,
Too pretty little bird,
Too blue, too yellow, green, and red,
Too bright, almost absurd!
Painted Bunting, you’re too much!
You really overwhelm!
As though you came down to this tree
From a quite different realm!
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Monday, October 21, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty-Two: Green Jay
So far this month, all my posts have been about birds I've seen. But one of the fun parts about Birdtober is learning about species I haven't seen or even heard of. And the Green Jay is a spectacular bird!
Photo Source: eBird.com
Green Jay
Blue, green, yellow suit
Southerner in thorny nest
Tough survivor bird
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
There are lots more interesting facts here - far too many for 17 syllables!
Sunday, October 20, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty-One: Hummingbird
Today I'm cheating a little bit; this is a repost of Day Sixteen from Birdtober in 2021. This, the Vervain Hummingbird, was the first species I reported on eBird. Here's more about it:
Today I decided to write about the Vervain Hummingbird, an island endemic. There are two subspecies, one on Jamaica and one on Hispaniola. These are the second smallest birds in the world, only surpassed in smallness by the Bee Hummingbird from Cuba. Vervains are noisy, and they like to sit on the highest point in the area, looking around. I think it makes them feel Large and In Charge.
Photo Source: eBird.com
I thought I knew all about the Vervain already, but just a little bit of research revealed many more interesting facts. For example, I didn't know that this miniature bird (6 to 7 centimeters long) attacks much larger species; Vervains have been observed attacking Mangrove Cuckoos, Northern Mockingbirds, and even American Kestrels! I really think these guys have no idea how little they are. A male will defend a territory of 20 by 20 meters. I even learned why I've never once seen a Vervain at my hummingbird feeders; the flowers they typically feed from are much smaller than the ones the feeders imitate. (I'll put a list of my sources further down in the post.)
As part of the Caribbean Endemic Bird Festival put on by BirdsCaribbean earlier this year, there was an Endemic Bird of the Day. On the day when the Vervain Hummingbird was featured, I read a description of its sound as being "like tiny sword fights." I can't find that page any more, but fortunately I wrote down that perfect phrase, so I had it to use in my poem. (Sometimes I think the best part of birding is the writing. Scientists work as hard as poets to use just the right words!)
The form is the 4x4, which I learned about from my Poetry Friday friend Denise Krebs. (You can read about the rules here.)
Vervain Hummingbird
Tiny monarch
sits in splendor
sings out fiercely
like small sword fights.
Fearless fighter,
Tiny monarch
shrinks from nothing,
needs nobody.
He’d just as soon
leave out “tiny,”
Tiny monarch
feels enormous
As he rules his
territory,
bow down to the
Tiny monarch.
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Sources: Wikipedia, Beauty of Birds, and BirdsCaribbean.
Here are some pictures I took with my phone of a Vervain on her nest, which is a little bigger than a thimble. The pictures aren't the same quality as the ones from eBird, but I was pretty happy to get this close without annoying her. She had built her nest right above where we were meeting for our outdoor church service because of Covid. It was so fun to watch her go back and forth to her nest as we had our meeting. I never failed to take my binoculars to church during that time!
See her nest, right in the middle of the photo?
This photo is a blown-up version of the next one, so you can see the bird's head.
And
there she is in her nest! I didn't want to get any closer, but it sure
looks to me as though there are babies in there. They are born naked and
blind, not looking at all like lovely little birds, but more like teeny
rodents. (Sorry, mama bird. I don't mean to insult your babies.)
Saturday, October 19, 2024
Birdtober Day Twenty: Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill
Today I'm using the Ugandan calendar. Instead of a roadrunner species, only occurring in North and Central America, my colleague substituted the Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill, which, like both the Greater and Lesser Roadrunners, can fly, but mostly doesn't. All three of these species live on the ground and usually choose to run when they need to move quickly.
Photo Source: eBird.com
As you can see from the picture, this is quite a startling-looking bird. And it's about 40 inches tall. I have seen this species once. I was on a weekend getaway with a bunch of female friends in Jinja, Uganda, and we were staying in an Air B&B. We were playing games in the living room and I had my back to the window. Suddenly one of my friends said, "What is that?" In the backyard there was an Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill. I didn't know what it was at first, but I did some research and found out quickly. It wasn't on Merlin's list of likely birds for where we were, but it's pretty unmistakable. This is a vulnerable species, and what a privilege to see it!
Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill
Enormous hornbill on the ground,
with an unexpected sound,
where did you come from?
Where are you headed,
with your markings blue-d and red-ed?
I did not expect your arrival
but I strongly wish for your healthy survival.
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
Friday, October 18, 2024
Birdtober Day Nineteen: Pink-backed Pelican
On Friday, I went on a boat ride with a homeschool nature group run by a birding friend, and we saw some of these Pink-backed Pelicans, today's bird on the Uganda version of the Birdtober calendar! We were all excited to see them. Also, did you know that pelicans feed their babies by bringing them fish in the pouch of their bills? There is a legend that in time of famine, pelican babies would pierce their mothers' breast and drink her blood. I wonder if this story came from people observing the babies feeding from the mother's bill. Sometimes, it was said, the mother pelican died as a result of giving her blood. The result of all of this birdwatching and telling confused stories about it was that early Christians used the pelican as a symbol for Jesus and His sacrifice. Before cameras and binoculars, many things people "knew" about birds were not true. (And even today, you can find sites like this, which tell you the "meanings" of seeing a pelican.) You might think that being able to read all about how birds behave based on scientific observation, and being able to observe them ourselves using high-powered binoculars would remove some of the magic, since we now know that pelicans don't give blood to their babies, for example. But not at all. The truth is every bit as fascinating and wonderful as the imaginary. People have always used birds to make metaphors, and I don't plan on stopping, but in this poem I decided not to.
Photo Source: eBird.com
Pink-backed Pelican
What do you symbolize,
enormous bird,
swimming by?
Could it be
that when you are born from a large white egg,
when you feed from your mother’s pouch,
when you struggle to get aloft but then glide effortlessly,
that none of it has anything whatsoever to do with me?
All my busy thoughts as I watch you
through my binoculars
from this green boat sailing in Lake Victoria
are mine and not yours.
Pink-backed Pelican
Not a symbol but a bird
Passes silently
©Ruth Bowen Hersey
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