Ordinary Beauty as seen by Leila Anasazi

I’m telling you, this man has an eye and a touch. See what he can do with humble carrots? He can work such magic on your portrait, too. Or, you could purchase one of the magnificent works he has already captured.

Little Brown Bird goes free.

She’d spent a couple of days/nights in the cage. It was killing me to have her confined, but she was so weak initially and if she was loose, death-by-raccoon, or cat, was certain.

But yesterday morning she was lively. Chirping (for the first time) and leaping back and forth and back and forth from one perch to the other, and then onto the top wires of the cage.

It was clearly time to let her have bigger options.

So we waited until the sun was a little higher in the sky and the world was a little warmer, and then took her cage to the deck, opened the door, and thought Good Thoughts.

In seconds she was out. And, off.

No flying really, mostly hopping about. We kept “encouraging” her to fly, by moving close to her and hoping she’d take flight from a little fright. But, no.

Her friends came to visit–the dozen or more other house sparrows that live here–and they all pecked at the ground. When one thing or another startled them, they swoosh off together, but Little Brown Bird just lingered, hopping about on the ground.

“Well,” we told ourselves, “she’s certainly happier roaming free for now. She’d probably rather a short life free than a long life in a cage.”

Later in the day she sort of took flight now and again. No grand soars, but small journeys of 3-foot height and length. We decided we’d try and capture her again later and let her spend one more night in the safety of the cage. But when “later” arrived and we tried to net her, she escaped us. With a tiny soar she took cover in the thick laurel bush, and we admitted again that she was likely happier free than captured.

We hoped she might find a safe and warm sleeping place, and went about our evening.

I am happy to report that she did make it through the night, and while she’s still not flying really, she looks quite content (and sweet) hopping amongst her friends.

Kim and Lucy were over to the house last night, and we had an amazing meal–which deliciously accommodated all our menu proclivities: no wheat, garlic, onion, beets, beans, or spicy-hot items.

Herb-rubbed blackened salmon, heirloom tomatoes with a fennel-thyme sauce, good ole rice, and then vanilla bean ice cream which appeared out of nowhere (from the ice cream making machine that Kim set up outside on our deck, and which churned while we were dining on dinner).

Some people have a beautiful intercourse with food–their fingers stroke the ingredients and food yields beneath their hands, becoming something more under their touch. Kim has this gift (so does our dear friend, Tiberio. I do not.)

I love when people come and cook in my kitchen. I watch their dances and magic gestures. Sure, as someone who does not cook, of course I rhapsodize about those who can, but there are those who have love affairs with food, and it is a joy to watch them at play/work.

Kim and Lucy are available to bring such joy to you (and your guests). Drop me a comment if you want to get in touch, and watch for their website to spring up: Four & Twenty Blackbirds.

More Little Brown Bird.

Little Brown Bird is still around.

This morning she hops onto the deck and searches for water. The recent torrential rains have left nice levels of rain water in several pots and urns. But the vessels are too intricate or deep for her to reach the pools and she finally submits to drinking from the cloisonné bowl I’ve filled for her.

Then she hops back down and nestles in beside a warm chunk of Missouri limestone at the base of the the plum tree, soaking the sun’s sustenance. I think I’ll follow her lead and take my coffee onto the patio.

This little bird has been lingering about my back deck all day. She ate bread crumbs from my hand and hops haltingly here and there. She curls up in curve of the cowboy boot that is airing out in the sun and her eyes become smaller and smaller but I don’t believe she sleeps.

She hops down to the ground beneath the cherry tree and joins the other little brown birds in their pecking at the ground. But when they fly away, she hops back up onto the deck.

Of course, something is awry. Her back end looks mangled, and it was only a few moments before she appeared on the deck that I saw a Coopers Hawk sitting quietly near the bird feeder. There’s also a new smear on the dining room window–the tell-tale dust of a small bird splat left after someone has flown into the glass.

There’s nothing I can do to help this small bird. All my efforts toward assisting–of course–freak her and she wastes whatever energy she has to hop or fly away.

Just yesterday I heard one of those bird splats, the distinctive thuNK that reverberates in the house. A moment or two later I peeked out the window and saw a raccoon making a meal from the kamikaze bird. The Discovery Channel live in my backyard.

So, I am feeling protective of today’s little brown bird. And I am wanting to make it all better.

Each of my efforts to protect the bird go awry. And finally I admit that this little bird might just want to curl up and die. And there’s not a damn thing that I can, or ought to, do about it.

Here’s one of the things that will keep my busy in my retirement: watching and enjoying the wildlife in my backyard.

You might not catch it at first glance, but in the photograph below, at the top, a mother raccoon is peeking out from between the tree trunks, encouraging her offspring below to climb the tree. The little one did not manage so well.

6:48 a.m. Northern Flicker outside my west window, Hairy Woodpecker outside the east window, and through the north window I can see a raccoon beneath the Western Cedar. (There is no south window.) It is already 54 degrees outside and the cast of the sky gives me hope that at this time tonight it will be plenty warm for al fresco dining.

My life is lush and I love it.

This morning the flickers are landing on the house roof. I’ve never seen that before; is it because of the owl feather?

This morning I found a feather on the ground. Wing feather, large, soft, “striped”.

I believe it is an owl feather. I’ve never seen an owl feather of this ilk–so large and “striped” as this is. But I recognize the velvet quality of an owl feather. And, when I saw it on the ground, pretty much it told me it was from an owl.

Some people believe that owls portend death. Like the “death” card in tarot, I believe that death is symbolic of endings. So it seems only right that I found this feather outside the door of the office which will very soon be my former place of employment.

However, I am not so inclined to view owls as symbols of death, as much as they are so many other things.

I have a crush on the raccoons. The other night I saw the babies for the first time this season. I’d forgotten how immensely adorable they are, with their little tribble purrs, tiny Zorro masks, and a tendency to both stray from mom and cling to her.

We admittedly “encourage” the raccoons, as our friend, Hannah, puts it. We leave snacks for them, on the theory that it’s better for all of us if we voluntarily feed them rather than have them roaming the streets prowling garbage cans. And with the recent appearance of the obviously nursing female (we call her Jane), we’ve been certain to provide for her (and hers).

I have been keeping myself up too late at night, hoping Jane will bring her twins around again.

The problem with commuting in a convertible, is that when I go to work in the morning the sun is in the east and when I drive home at night the sun is in the west–so the sun always shines on the same side of my face–the righthand side, which is now sunburned :-)

plastic garbage bag
wind blows slowly down the street
city tumbleweed

This lovely raptor arrived Saturday morning and perched for awhile in the big leaf maple outside our bedroom window (the maple which is so very far yet from having leaves).

In the afternoon, she returned to perch in the cherry tree (and that’s the pink tone you see in the background of the photo). We watched her for about an hour, perching, hunting, swooping. She caught one mouse, but glided into our sliding glass door and dropped it–then retrieved it and flew off again to the cherry tree branch (I never thought I’d have to put WindowAlert decals at the ground-level parts of the door!).

She spent a good bit of time in the cherry tree, blending in splendidly with the color of the bark and having a nice heavy cover of cherry blossoms. The squirrels here are quite used to romping in that cherry tree, and twice a squirrel roamed very near the hawk. Her wings opened and she became extra large, and then swooped.

I am not sure if she was aiming for a squirrel snack, or if she was just discouraging the little mammals.

We were able to see that this hawk is banded. David, owner of Flora and Fauna Books just around the corner from us, had told us about a man who has been banding the Cooper’s hawks in Discovery Park, and so we have been on the lookout for any bands. Our girl today was wearing a blue band on her right leg, marked 5X and a silver band on her left leg.

Oh. And pretty much once she arrived, all the finches and chickadees and juncos and sparrows, made themselves scarce.

This is me. Well, this is me as seen by a woman who can see things most mortals can’t.

There’s a lot to this portrait, that I’m not so qualified to go into, but I will say that the experience was marvelous, and I have a lot of new information to use as I ponder myself and my future.

If you want your own portrait painted, please contact Elke Macartney.