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 19: Pink-backed Pelican

Day 20: Abyssinian Ground-Hornbill 

Day 21: Vervain Hummingbird

Day 22: Green Jay 

Day 23: Painted Bunting

Day 24: American Goldfinch 

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.

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.)

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

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! 

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.)

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

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

Poetry Friday: Birdtober Day Eighteen: House Sparrow

Here are my Birdtober posts so far. At most of these posts, you can find the Birdtober prompts I'm using. There's a US version, an international version, and an all-Uganda version created by a colleague at school.

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:

Day 12: Red-billed Firefinch

Day 13: House Wren 

Day 14: White-necked Crow

Day 15: Red-headed Woodpecker

Day 16: Red-eyed Dove

Day 17: Rüppell's Starling 

Today's bird is the House Sparrow, which some have called the most widely dispersed wild bird. This is an interesting article about how House Sparrows came to live all over the world. At least part of the story is that unlike most other birds, House Sparrows can digest gluten. They live near humans and consume food humans drop or throw away. These were some of the first birds I learned to identify in Haiti, since our Snack Shop at school was overrun with them. I remember googling "brown bird with black bib" because I didn't know what they were. 

 

In the United States, House Sparrows are considered pests by many, and there have been numerous attempts to eradicate them. All have failed miserably. You can read more about that here. I understand why people don't like these birds, and I know that they squeeze out native birds by overtaking habitat and food supply. But you have to admire the way they adapt to wherever they find themselves, and look how lovely they are, with their warm chocolatey brown coloring (even eBird uses the word "cute").  In her book The Urban Bestiary: Encountering the Everyday Wild, Lyanda Lynn Haupt quotes the scientist Konrad Lorenz: "I never kill birds. To a certain extent, I am a friend of successful species. This goes so far that I even like weeds."

Photo Source: eBird.com

House Sparrow

These birds live most everywhere,

Hitched rides on ships to here and there,

Adapted to each place they found

And started eating off the ground.

Busy, noisy, finding seeds,

Growing, spreading just like weeds.

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Matt at Radio, Rhythm and Rhyme has today's roundup.

Birdtober Day Seventeen: Rüppell's Starling

Today's bird is a grackle, and my colleague replaced it on the Ugandan calendar with a Rüppell's Starling. I knew right away why. Like the Common Grackle in the US, the Rüppell's Starling is noisy, likes hanging out in flocks, and has iridescent feathers. (I wrote about the Common Grackle here.) 

 

Photo Source: eBird.com

Photo Source: Wikipedia

While reading about this bird (which appears on my checklists 360 times), I became interested in the guy who named it after himself, Wilhelm Peter Eduard Simon Rüppell (1794-1884). Rüppell's Wikipedia page lists nineteen plants, animals, and birds named for him. There's even a fish and a butterfly. (Scroll down to the bottom of the page to see this list.) As the son of a banker, Rüppell had plenty of money to indulge his interests, and he was interested in everything. He traveled widely in Africa and the Middle East and kept detailed notebooks about what he saw. He also brought many objects back to Germany, where they are now on display in museums, including the Junges Museum Frankfurt. That museum has some discussion here about the way Rüppell casually appropriated whatever took his fancy. It's frowned upon today, but when he was doing it, nobody seemed to mind. 

 

The trend these days is away from naming creatures after humans, though in some cases the scientific names may continue to honour these explorers (the Rüppell's Starling has a scientific name that doesn't include any reference to Rüppell). You can start reading about this issue here, if you're interested. So all of these species may not continue to be named for Herr Rüppell forever.  I can't help feeling a little bit of affection for the guy. After all, he could have used his money in much worse ways. And while he did treat the world as his own personal possession, at least he shared what he discovered and enriched others with the knowledge. I can't find much about what kind of person Rüppell was (other than adventurous). The Junges Museum site gives some hints: "Rüppell had a close connection to the Senckenberg Research Society, having donated it many of the objects he had brought with him. He also became its second director, but was later involved in disputes with the research society. Rüppell was a very headstrong person, but also very generous: he gave everything he had collected in his long life to the Frankfurt museums. Toward the end of his life he expressed the opinion that 'giving away everything before the end is the best testament.'"

Rüppell's Starling

If you want your name
to live on after you
you could put it on a building
or the front of books you’ve written
or at the bottom of pictures you’ve painted.
You could endow a scholarship
or a library.
You could name a company after yourself
or a business
or a child.

Or
you could travel the world
giving birds, fish, butterflies,
bats, chameleons, and plants
your own human name.
These creatures, after all,
don’t know or care that you’ve done so.
The blue and purple
Rüppell’s Starlings in the yard,
for example,
are raucous and iridescent
whatever you call them.

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Birdtober Day Sixteen: Dove

Yesterday's bird was warlike, and today's is associated with peace. This one, extremely common here in Kampala, is easy to identify because of its distinctive six syllable call that sounds like: "I am the Red-eyed Dove." (Listen in the video below.)

Photo Source: eBird.com

Red-eyed Dove

I am the Red-eyed Dove

I am the Red-eyed Dove

I am a bird of peace

I am a bird of love

I'm up here in the tree

Or flying overhead

I am the Red-eyed Dove

Did you hear what I said? 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Birdtober Day Fifteen: Red-headed Woodpecker

Although I have seen lots of woodpeckers (I have thirteen species of them on my life list), I have only seen the Red-headed Woodpecker, the one on today's US prompt calendar, five times. Three times were in Kentucky and twice in Georgia. These just aren't the most common birds, but when you see one, it's always a treat. That red head is a beautiful sight. Most woodpeckers have red on their heads, so before you've seen one, you wonder why the name, but, well, look at it. It's obvious.

Photo Source: eBird.com

 

Black and white
With crimson hood
In snags
of decaying wood
Store grasshoppers
for future snacks
(alive, imprisoned,
stuck in cracks).
Steal eggs from birds
who take their space.
Eat airborne bugs
after a chase.
These fierce and rather
warlike guys
look down at you
with beady eyes.

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

Birdtober Day Fourteen: Crow

I have six species on my life list with "Crow" in their names. (Plus some other corvids - did you know jays are related to crows?) In this post you can read a poem I wrote about the White-necked Crow in Haiti. When I started noticing these birds, I had already lived in Haiti for many years, and I absolutely couldn't believe that I'd never noticed them before, mainly because they are so very loud (listen to the sound in the video below). How did I miss them? I have no idea. Like the Golden Swallow, this species is an island endemic, and can only be found on Hispaniola, the island shared by Haiti and the Dominican Republic. The first thing you're likely to wonder about in the picture below is that it doesn't have a white neck; that's strictly part of the bird's breeding plumage. Then you might see the bright red eye.

Photo Source: eBird.com

The White-necked Crow Speaks

 

How unaware do you have to be, Human,
not to notice an enormous black bird
with staring red eyes
and a very loud, squawking call?
What do I have to do to make you look up at me?
Here I am.
Corvus leucognaphalus.
Pleased to meet you.

 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey

 

Birdtober Day Thirteen: Wren

At the end of September, the American Ornithological Society (AOS) announced that there are four new Caribbean species of wrens. I learned about this from Birds Caribbean, who dubbed this moment in time "The Wrenaissance." 

Here's part of Birds Caribbean's explanation (you can read the rest, with more details about how these decisions are made, and photos, here, and you can read my ode to taxonomy in this post): 

"These taxonomic updates often come in the form of “splits,” where what was once considered a single species is divided into multiple species due to significant differences in traits such as appearance, genetics, or behavior. In contrast, “lumps” occur when distinct populations are found to be similar enough to merge into a single species. Ornithologists use a combination of genetic analysis, morphology (shape and size), plumage, and vocalizations to determine whether a bird population deserves species status. 

This process can involve differentiating Caribbean birds from their mainland counterparts or recognizing distinct island populations as unique species. . . . The bird formerly known as the House Wren (Troglodytes aedon) has undergone a major revision and is now split into seven different species — four of which are newly recognized as Caribbean endemics! Say hello to the Grenada Wren(Troglodytes grenadensis), St. Lucia Wren (Troglodytes mesoleucus), St. Vincent Wren (Troglodytes musicus), and Kalinago Wren (Troglodytes martinicensis), which is native to Dominica. The Kalinago Wren, named in honor of the island’s Indigenous Kalinago people, was also historically found on Guadeloupe and Martinique, though it has since disappeared from those islands." 

House Wren (St. Vincent) - Photo Source: eBird.com

 

Wrens

Sometimes one day
you’re someone new
though inside
you’re the same old you:
others see you differently,
and they decide who you will be.

You do you, small brownish wren
(who you are now, who you were then):
keep catching bugs, and sing your song.
House Wren,
you’re right where you belong. 

©Ruth Bowen Hersey