11.15.2002
From a time, not too long ago, when the skies filled with birds, and when we had even more fear and less understanding of the world around us than we do today:
Audubon Reader
John James Audubon
as read in Diary of a Left-Handed Birdwatcher
Leonard Nathan
'Audubon describes the return of the Passenger Pigeons to their roosts on the banks of the Gren River in Kentucky:
As the period of their arrival approached, their foes anxiously prepared to receive them. Some were furnished with iron-pots containing sulphur, others with torches of pine-knots, many with poles, and the rest with guns. the sun was lost to our view, yet not a Pigeon had arrived. Every thing was ready, and all eyes were gazing on the clear sky, which appeared in glimpses amidst the tall trees. Suddenly there burst forth a general cry of "Here they come!" The noise which they made, though yet distant, reminded me of a hard gale at sea, passing through the rigging of a close-reefed vessel. As the birds arrived and passed over me, I felt a current of air that surprised me. Thousands were soon knocked down by the pole-men. The birds continued to pour in. The fires were lighted, and a magnificent, as well as wonderful and almost terrifying, sight presented itself. The Pigeons, arriving by thousands, alighted everywhere, one above another, until solid masses as large as hogsheads were formed on the branches all round. Here and there the perches gave way under the weight with a crash, and, falling to the ground, destroyed hundreds of the birds beneath, forcing down the dense groups with which every stick was loaded. It was a scene of uproar and confusion. I found it quite useless to speak, or even to shout to those persons who were nearest to me. Even the reports of the guns were seldom heard, and I was made aware of the firing only by seeing the shooters reloading.
...The Pigeons were constantly coming, and it was past midnight before I perceived a decrease in the number of those that arrived...The howlings of the wolves now reached our ears, and the foxes, lynxes, cougars, bears, raccoons, oppossums and pole-cats were sneaking off, whilst eagles and hawks of different species, accompanied by a crowd of vultures, came to supplant them, and enjoy their share of the spoil.
...Persons unacquainted with these birds might naturally conclude that such dreadful havock would soon put an end to the species. But I have satisfied myself, by long observation, that nothing but the gradual diminution of our forests can accomplish their decrease, as they not unfrequently quadruple their numbers yearly, and always at least double it.'
Of course, passenger pigeons became extinct in 1914.
Hard to imagine a bird so prolific that Audubon once traveled 55 miles while migrating flocks of passenger pigeons filled the sky the entire way. He reports that these numbers continued for three days hence.
I live in a mecca of birds and birdwatching, but birds never fill the sky. It must be an awesome sight, one that can still be seen in certain places along their migratory routes: the Everglades, or Izembek Lagoon in Alaska.
My appreciation of birds lies separate from their numbers. I love in each it's surprising beauty, it's mastery of the sky, and it's song. Yesterday a song sparrow flew hard into the picture window of my house. I brought him inside and held him, letting his last warmth flow into my hand. His broken neck a particular sadness.
posted by Lisa Thompson on 8:17 PM link | comments []
11.10.2002
The big storm arrived Thursday and has lasted til today, or else a series of storms has been here, one after another. On Thursday night winds up to 70 mph closed the Richmond/San Rafael Bridge. Here, nothing so dramatic but we woke Friday to downed and split trees and branches littering the roads.
Our beach was transformed and is taking on its winter shape. The sand is split where the creek has gained breadth and strength. The high tides of this weekend have furthered that breach and now there is a several feet deep trough to cross.
This morning I watched a grey squirrel being aggressively chased by an acorn woodpecker. She was chattering, diving at the squirrel and chasing him out to the very end of an oak branch. He stayed still but the woodpecker wasn't satisfied. She dove at him again and he made a heroic leap onto a very thin branch of a redwood tree. That branch was new and bent almost parrallel with the tree trunk and the squirrel hung on until it steadied andd then he miraculously made his way up it. Still the woodpecker came at him, and she chased him all the way to the top of that tree. He held his position then very quietly. She waited just around the trunk from him and down a couple of feet -- daring him to move. Finally, she tired of the game and flew off, joining a chorus of birds enjoying the morning's break in the weather.
Aftwards, we drove to McClure's Beach at the end of Pierce Point. By the time we got out of the car it was into a mini-squall: sideways rain, heavy winds and no thanks. We backtracked then and went out to North Beach on a quest to see the massive waves that were rumored coming in. As we left the point the weather calmed quite a bit, so that it was only drizzling and windy as we walked down to the sand.
The waves were somewhere in the 8-12 foot range. Not quite the 20-footers we were hoping for but still formidable. The ocean and sky a wash of white as clouds met churning foam. The breakers were pushing thick, fluffy foam up the sand. It piled up there and shook under pressure from the wind until ultimately pieces of it would be torn off and blown across the sand and into the dunes.
We caught some of the action here (2.6MB) in true Andy Goldsworthy fashion.
posted by Lisa Thompson on 10:34 PM link | comments []
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