Birding: Swainson's Thrush

The first summer I spent in Oregon, I heard this bird. It sang its song from deep in the woods, it sounded like a magical flute. My eastern ears were unaccustomed to this song. It haunted me for years afterwards... Some summers I would wander into the woods after it, getting somewhat lost or finding special places I wouldn't have found otherwise.

One day, after bring fed up of this unknown song bird eluding my sight, I sat down with a bird identification book for the Willamette Valley and poured over every robin sized bird I could find. I only ever caught a glimpse of its shadow high up in the poplar canopy. After looking for what felt like ages, there it was in print, next to a very plain looking brown bird... "Song - series of nasal whistles spiraling upward ... most often identified by distinctive voice ... Often near streams ... Summer migrant ... Secretive."  That was my bird alright.

I have spent most of my life on the east coast, so this elusive bundle of feathers was totally unknown to me. It felt strangely special finally knowing its name, like it was some sort of well kept secret that I was privy to. In a way, I believe it is. No one else that I have talked to has identified the bird.

Did you know that male Swainson's have territorial song battles? Apparently. Like some kind of bird rap battle... They also migrate at night.

The Swainson's Thrush is a keeper of secrets. They are a seekers bird, I believe. You chase and hunt and they lead you to things you would not have found if you hadn't been following their siren like call. There are places in the woods I know of now, thanks to this plain looking  but extraordinary bird.

I've only heard one or two distant calls over the past two weeks. They're heading out for the year and won't be back until about mid-May. They herald the summer and beautiful green things...

Knowing When to Pause.

The days have been filled with avoiding the heat. The earth here is parched and the grasses are dying. You can smell the deep tang of the invasive blackberries in the midday sun, mingling with the loam of the forest, heated pine resin and the sweetness of dried grasses. Briar path days are upon us. I've taken pity on my neighbors dehydrated rose bushes (they've moved out and are gone) and am currently watering them. The plants feel glad. I've noticed the black (Br'er) rabbit family and local hares only come out to graze at dawn and dusk, avoiding the heat. It almost feels as if my little area is holding it's breath for a bout of rain, I think it really is.

There's an odd feeling of burn out I've been dealing with. I don't know if it's burn out, per-say. But I feel like disappearing somewhere for a little while, disconnecting from the internet and stopping the flow of communications. That need to isolate yourself and recharge so you can reconnect. It's hard when you have a lot of real life obligations, when you simply can't turn off the internet and you feel that never ending nagging persistence to be super productive, to get shit done and be awesome consistently, nonstop. Realizing when to pause can be difficult. Knowing when you're just not going to be productive anymore can be hard to recognize sometimes.

I feel like the land, dehydrated and longing for a good nourishing rain. The rains will come inevitably, right now it's a matter of digging deep with these roots to tap into the moist soil far below me.

I pulled the Page of Cups this morning. She's descended to the bottom of the ocean, alone. She uses her intuition to guide herself and she finds answers in the scrying bowl. My need for the element of water is apparent in this card. I think a good spiritual bath is in order, a bath at dusk to remove and a bath as the sun rises to bring in that which I desire.

Hermes & Violet Thoughts.

My gym time is one of the ways I do devotional activities for Hermes. What's this got to do with violets? I'll get there, don't worry. Hermes holds a very special place in my heart. He's a jovial guy and many of his attributes are things that hold a prominent place in my life. I'm a business owner, a ram, I hit the gym on a regular basis and I aim to improve my writing and communications abilities. I dream very vividly and have a fondness for birds and often look to them for omens. He's also just a bad ass. I love reading about him in myth, he just comes across as the kinda guy you could have a beer and totally chill with. Or you know, get up to some mischief.

So, violets right? I make a point to focus on Hermes during my workouts. I give him my sweat, my pumping heart, my exertion, my focus. I make a point to commune with him. Violets dropped into my brain out of nowhere a few weeks ago. I walked home and the phantom scent of violets hit me over and over again, it's not even violet season mind you! Today, mid oblique crunch, there it is again. Violets. "Alright," I say to myself, "time for some google action." What's the first thing I see, after googling 'Hermes violets'?

photo by, Married with Dinner.

Oh, snap. Indeed. Hermes very obviously wants his violets. This brand unfortunately is basically impossible to get in the US, unless I'm willing to hop on a plane straight to Japan! While I do hope to someday get my hands on this lovely jewel of a liqueur, I think I will settle for some Tempus Fugit Liqueur De Violettes. Or, make my own, which I have plans for come spring of next year.

I was really surprised by this. Violets aren't exactly mercurial, they're connected to the planet Venus, the element of water and love. Aphrodite was often referred to as violet-crowned. The sweetly scented flowers are calming and gentle and make me think of softening the woes of love, inducing lust, bringing lovers back together after a spat and tranquility. All sorts of ideas began bubbling into my head. Clearly, violets will make a great offering to Hermes in my personal practice, but this experience has brought me closer to a plant I had never really considered working with before. I actually encountered the wild violet this spring, for the first time. I had thought nothing of it, really. Just that they were the harbingers of spring. The first flower to pop up, they herald new beginnings.

I found this small wild patch at the end of my street last spring. I think I might transplant a few to the yard. And maybe even buy a few plants as they come available on websites this fall. Specifically the sweet violet - viola odorata, as this is the one with the sweet scent and flavor.

All sorts of wild crafty ideas are flying through my head currently. A violet water, similar to a Florida Water recipe. I imagine the color would just be fantastic. Violet liqueur, obviously. Cakes. Preserving the flowers in sugar. Perhaps even scenting the sugar, by placing lots of the fresh blooms in a jar, I wonder how that would work out. I suppose I'll have to find out next spring, these delicate little flowers are only around once a year. I look forward to getting to know this plant a little better come spring.

 

 

Tiniest Skull & Bushtit Chatter.

A few weeks ago I found the tiny mangled body of a bird outside of our stoop. I imagine a cat must have gotten it, or it died of natural causes. I picked it up and placed it between my althaea and mugwort plants. Today, while examining my mugwort for upcoming full moon cutting, I noticed the little birds body was still there. I was surprised it didn't disappear by scavenging racoons and neighborhood cats that prowl our yard. It's little skull was sticking up neatly out of the dirt, well cleaned by nature.

This tiny skull belongs to the bushtit. It's the smallest bird in North America by weight, right next to the hummingbird. His little skull is smaller than the tip of my finger joint! I feel pretty lucky to have such a curio.

Birds hold a very special place in my heart, thanks to my wonderful grandmother who subscribed me to Birds and Blooms when I was about 10 years old. This imbedded in me a deep love of bird watching. Anytime I heard a call or saw a bird I couldn't recognize, I'd go on a hunt for information to learn all I could about its range and habits. I wanted so badly to see Cedar Waxwings when I was young, it wasn't until I was crossing a bridge in Iowa City, Iowa at age 22 that I suddenly realized I was surrounded by a huge flock of them! And I saw them for the first time in my life. If you ask my partner, I was ridiculously excited. Pretty sure bystanders thought I was crazy.

Depending on the species, birds are messengers, tricksters, symbols of purity and love. Bushtits to me, are the embodiment of joy, thriftiness, tranquility and a cohesive family. They often travel in large groups tree to tree combing for insects. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll encounter a massive flock of them while walking through the forest. One moment it'll be quiet, and the next you'll be surrounded by what feel like millions of the tiniest fluff balls. No matter when or where you spot them, they are merrily chirping away paying no mind to who's watching them. If you're still enough, they will let you get remarkably close to them while they're foraging. They have the brightest eyes and most content and happy expression.

Birding adventures are a constant. My current hope, is to find out who it is that makes this eerie trilling sound deep in the forests. I hear this call only in summer and I've never seen the culprit. With some binoculars and luck, maybe I'll find out.

Other birdy goodness: The Secret Bird Society by Candlesmoke Chapel.