Where is Sherlock when we need him? An East Pole Journal Extra

Mysteries cloud bird populations.

MISSING BIRD: Apporox 1 year  old, wearing red

     He might say to Watson, “Hmm. Watson, there seems to be some foul play afoot.” About three days
ago this blog posted a photo of a male Pine Grosbeak all fluffed up against the cold. Below him on the ground a female poked about in the seeds Chickadees had spilled off the feeder. That was the last day the male was observed. The female came by the next day but then she, too, disapeared and neither has come around since. Several suspicions have surfaced. They could have been taken by a predator. There were holes in the snowbank near the spilled seed where an ermine could have hidden while stalking them but there no signs of any struggle in the area. Another suspicion could be they succumbed to the cold. The temperature had dropped to zero several times in the previous few days. A predatory bird might have gotten them, though I haven’t seen any of the usual predators around so far this year. Also, they could have found a more enticing feeder somewhere in the neighborhood, although no one’s been in any of the nearby cabins recently. 

     Then after a few days a new mystery developed; whether the two relate to each other remains to be seen. Traditionally Chickadees make up the largest population of visitors to this feeder. In some years they have been challenged in numbers by redpolls but other than that and in particular, maybe one red-breasted nuthatch would show up among them.

     This year something changed. To begin with, more nuthatches than ever before came by to feed. As many as three at a time have been spotted. Still, when I went out in the morning the Chickadees have been flitting back and forth to the feeder in dominating numbers, joined this year by at least three nuthatches flying in just as often.

       With that as background, I walked out yesterday morning amazed to see there wasn’t a Chickadee in sight. Strange to begin with, but then I noticed the three tiny nuthatches on the feeder. Twice more that day nuthatches had the place to themselves, poking at the seeds. That condition continued through most of the day until late afternoon when more Chickadees arrived.

      Now, I had to wonder where the Chickadees had gone all day? Had a predator that I didn’t see gone after them and chased them into the trees? Had they found another feeder with the Grosbeaks. Had the nuthatches chased them off? Despite their size they can be pretty aggressive in defending their spots on the feeder. Did the Chickadees regroup and mount a counterattack later in the day?

Curious, Watson, very curious.

Perhaps we need a good dose of that famous London fog to complete the scene and complicate the mystery even more.

Two days later the Chickadees and nuthatches were back in regular numbers, but still no sign of the grosbeaks.

 

One another note: One of the reasons I like living this way

     Sunday afternoon I had worked my way through about two thirds of a long mental list of chores. I came indoors for a moment, a sip of juice and dry gloves, fully intending to get right back at it. But, I

had left the radio on and an American Roots announcer on PBS was interviewing and reliving Judy Collins’ life with her. It only took a bit of one song and I lost it, plopped down in the chair, unzipped my coveralls and settled in to listen. What chores? They went from her childhood in Seattle to her life in Greenwich Village and her development as a singer. All along her songs were interspersed into their conversation. Someday Soon, Both sides now, and so many more. Toward the end they even went into the evolution of Suite, Judy Blue Eyes, the Crosby, Stills and Nash song Steven Stills wrote after he and Collins ended their romance. She recalled how they both cried when he played it for her; but she told him she loved the song but didn’t want to get back together, still, making sure to say the two are still friends. For what it’s worth I don’t regret a minute of the half hour or so I sat there and listened. I still managed to finish the list of chores too. 

     As I was doing that a thought came to mind. I am not sure if it’s coincidence or irony, but there was a Sweet Judy Blue Eyes in my life too. (And, yes, I meant to spell it that way.) Irony of the situation is, later on I learned she had married a rodeo cowboy.

Firewood and Revery

 

One more paradigm shift

     At times people have kidded me about policing up all the chips and splinters and wedges that litter the yard after a session of splitting firewood. Well, here it is five weeks already and I still haven’t had to split one single stick of kindling for the fire.