What We See in the Yard

 

Each day in winter, we feed the ducks.

  When the snow is too deep for them to forage on the river marsh,

it is essential to remember to throw

the cracked corn out for them.

Our biggest problem is to avoid attracting pigeons.

 

 

However, for the ducks, the larger issue

is avoiding becoming lunch.

 

 

In the past week, hungry Bald Eagles have patrolled

the tallest evergreens near our home.

 

 

We don't always see them as their heads

look like snow in the trees and their dark bodies blend

with the branches.  Can you see two?

 

 

Once we spotted them and began to take photos,

the eagles moved to another tree. 

We'll stay inside from now on;

we don't wish to disturb them.

 

 

We feel lucky to live in a place where we can enjoy

 such magnificent birds from our kitchen windows.

 

 

I wonder if we could entice the eagles

to eat the pigeons.

 

I can live with that.

Sharp-Shinned Hawk

Where have our birds gone?

We've suspected a predator must be near.   The American Black Ducks and the Mallards, the Common Redpolls and the Black Cap Chickadees haven't been making their morning appearances to feed.  Even the squirrels and the pheasants have been hiding or skittering quickly over the snow.

Last weekend, a Sharp-Shinned Hawk sat on a maple in our yard for hours.

And something happened...some of the ducks must have flown in close to see if there was cracked corn on the snow for them.  Something happened because Gary says there's a female duck lying dead in the neighbour's yard, a mess of blood and feathers.

And every day since the weekend, we've had a lone Mallard sitting in our yard.  He comes early and stays all day.  Unusual behaviour.  He eats a bit, but mostly he sits and sits, and searches the sky.

Is he waiting for her to return?

The Ducks Have Returned

The Ducks Have Returned        

The ducks have returned and so have I.

We feed Mallards, American Black Ducks and their hybrids.  For the price of cracked corn thrown daily on the snow in our side yard, we have entertainment from January through April.   We live within sight of the Petitcodiac River and its marshes, the ducks’ usual haunt, and are content to aid in feeding them through the harsher months of winter.

The ducks return to us each year when other nourishment becomes scarce.  With the first flush of spring’s new growth, they will leave us again.

I too have been away, away from my blog and from my writing.  Last fall and this winter have been harsh times for me.  I have been ill, endured surgeries and months of treatments accompanied by debilitating side effects.

My hope is to be recovered by the first flush of spring.

In the meantime, I do what I can each day—often that isn’t much. 

But, I have the ducks as entertainment.  They keep coming back and so will I.

Words and photo are copyright ©Carol Steel.

Northern Goshawk and Ducks

The Northern Goshawk took a Mallard duck in our yard, over the weekend; the hawk is still around.  We've seen it sitting in the maple waiting for ducks to appear.

Dwayne Biggar, who writes a column in the Times & Transcript every Saturday, lists identifying characteristics of a mature Northern Goshawk:  brilliant red eyes, fairly distinctive plumage and a tail that extends below the folded wind tips.  He identified this one from our photos.  (Dwayne's email:  thebirdgarden@rogers.com )

Dwayne says that Mallards are expanding exponentially and will potentially cause problems for other ducks, like the Blacks.  He says that the Hawk picks out the weakest, possibly a sick bird, so he's helping the rest of the flock. 

Dwayne linked to my blog entry of March 3, 2012 for Birding New Brunswick, to share the photos.

The ducks do not seem to be upset by this not-too-common backyard visitor, or perhaps they have short memories.

Nelson Poirier of Nature Moncton commented upon the rarity of seeing a Goshawk up close.  Nelson also writes a Saturday column for the Times and Transcript.  He describes himself as a "veterinarian by trade and a naturalist by nature" and can be contacted at  nelson@nb.sympatico.ca.  Bob Childs, of Nature Moncton, posted our Northern Goshawk photos on their website.  http://naturemoncton.org/hotshots.htm

Thanks to each person who supported our hawk sighting and shared our photos.  As you can see, the ducks continue to come, undeterred by the Goshawk.  Perhaps he is passing through on his migration route, as we haven't seen him this afternoon.

All photos are mine. 

Words in different colours will take you to another site

with more information, if you click on them.

Northern Goshawk

Carnage...blood, feathers, body parts…that’s what we saw when we opened our curtains this morning. 

All winter, we’ve fed Mallards and American Black ducks.  Instead of seeing 3 to 4 dozen ducks waiting for cracked-corn breakfast, we saw 3 ducks huddled under the branches of cedar trees in the neighbour’s yard.  In the tamped down space where we feed the ducks, we saw blood and feathers and bits of duck.  My stomach rolled.

What had happened?  What had killed the duck?  Where was the rest of the duck?

Figuring that dead-duck bits would be off-putting for the usual crowd, Gary went outside and cleaned up the mess.   We didn’t put out any food for the morning feeding, not wanting to entice more ducks to their doom.   Despite this, we knew that we couldn’t stop feeding ducks in mid-winter; they were accustomed to us providing for them.

Soon after the duck-remains removal, we looked out and noticed a Northern Goshawk sitting in one of our maples, 40 feet away.   Patient, it sat there waiting and surveying the yard.  We grabbed the camera and began taking photos.

To our surprise, it floated down and began rooting around, digging in the snow, searching for the duck remains.  The Goshawk must have carried away the biggest part of the duck and had now returned for the head and neck, it had left behind. 

The Northern Goshawk was 15 feet away from our kitchen windows.  It watched us, watching it.  It stared back at us and kept on digging.

Eventually, the Northern Goshawk flew away with a murder of crows squawking and chasing it away from their nests and our yard. 

The ducks?   The Goshawk was still around.  Crows were flying overhead, their raucous cries filled the air.  The ducks circled but didn’t land.  The robins and chickadees were hiding.  The yard was still, deathly still.

Deadly, agile and able to fly with lightning-fast turns through the trees in our yard, the Northern Goshawk was hunting.

We felt badly about the duck kill, even though we knew that this was nature, was reality, was the food chain.

We were grateful and felt fortunate to have seen this powerful bird, up close, even though it killed one of "our" ducks.  The Northern Goshawk was a stunning sight, despite the carnage.  It was being what nature created it to be...a ferocious predator.

All photos are mine.  Words in red will take you to another site, if you click on them. 

There you will find additional information about Northern Goshawks.

Ducks Feeding

Ducks gather in the yard.

In any sort of weather, they come to be fed.

They come to socialize and see what's new.

To be alone with a quiet meal.

Perhaps to share with a special friend.

All photos are mine.

Feeding the Ducks

Gary is usually out early to feed the ducks in our yard.

As soon as the ducks notice the kitchen lights

 coming on in the morning,

they begin landing on the snow.

If Gary doesn't go outside right away,

they'll line up in front of the kitchen windows and

quack at him as he sits at the table inside.

That will usually coax him to go outside

with the containers of cracked corn to feed his ducks;

proof that nagging works...sometimes!

Robins in the Mountain Ash

It is finally cold enough for the seed berries of the Mountain Ash to become sweetly full of fermented juice, ice wine for the birds.  The Robins are enjoying these, eating, singing and doing acrobatics on the branches.  Perhaps a little inebriated or just extremely happy?

A hearty Ring Neck Pheasant desiring to eat cracked corn, comes into our yard and chases the younger males and several small females away before he begins snacking.  He, who is largest, lunches first.

The cats are fascinated with this live show of robins, pheasants and ducks during their daily meal times.

Our cats are always kept indoors, so there is no danger to any birds from them.  Birdy TV is their favourite pastime; they love to watch, chattering away though the windows and to each other.

We are all lucky to have such an entertaining view!

All photos are mine.

Ducks Have Returned

It snowed 5 inches, just enough to make
ground foraging a challenge.  
Gary went outside with the old snow blower
to clean the driveway
of the first snow accumulation this year. 
Then...

 suddenly ducks started landing

in the neighbour's yard

and waddling through the gaps

in the fences

into our yard. 

We hadn't seen them before this.

They milled around in the yard,

digging into the snow

and looking up the yard at Gary,

until he stopped blowing the driveway

and fetched them some cracked corn.

Is it possible...

that these are the same ducks as last year?

And that they recognized Gary, in his old blue yard-jacket,

as the same friendly fellow who fed them all last winter?

All photos are mine.

A Recent Storm

Yesterday the yard was shimmering deep snow.  Earlier today, it pelted freezing rain; now driving wet snow pounds against the windows.  On the north side of the house, sticky fat flakes cover the windows.  Wind increases, forces the snow into untamed swirls. 

The rising wind and the snow-blanketed windows make the cats anxious.  They sit in their usual chairs, drawn to their favourite spots at the kitchen windows.  They meow and paw at the glass wondering why they are unable to watch their customary entertainment: American Black Ducks and Mallards feeding on the cracked corn my husband puts out for them each morning, Common Redpolls and Black-Capped Chickadees at the thistle seed feeders.  The windows are bulky with snow; the cats can see nothing.

My cats and I cocoon inside this snow blinded warmth; listen to the buffeting gale.  Through the tops of the windows, light still peeks. I watch the storm develop.  The cats are tired, weary from scratching at the window panes and meowing at me for explanation.

I carry fragrant coffee, reading glasses and current book to the living room and settle in the rocking chair near the fireplace.  I crave this warmth in my hands and on my legs. The cats follow, grow more content.  On this side of the house, they can perch in front of the windows and still view the outdoors.  These windows are not yet completely covered. 

The storm bashes the house walls, snow dances frenzied in the air; rapidly piling flakes bending the trees and covering the world.  The view down our street and across the marshes to the river is gone, swallowed in white. 

The cats are still, lined up, one, two, three staring at snow ripping past, chirping at a lone seagull attempting to fly through this blizzard.  The ducks on the north side have settled down facing into the blustery winds, hunkered low, waiting it out; sheltering in snow indentations made by my husband’s heavy boots during this morning’s bird-feeding routines.  The Chickadees and Redpolls have disappeared, hiding in denser foliage than this yard provides.   The shrubs become conical snow mysteries, the maples creak and sway heavily, and snow-burdened wires rub complaints against the house.

The cats gradually settle, wander away from the chill of the windows.  Sleepily, one lowers himself to cover a hot air register.  One pads circles on the sofa until she finds the ideal location to curl up, groom and nap.  The other, the youngest and most dependent, joins me in the rocking chair and demands attention, wanting pats and words of comfort before stretching out and up, from my lap to my chin, simply making a bed out of me!  All three sleep.  I read, sip my coffee, and enjoy this cozy fireside, companioned and cocooned from the snowstorm.  All is well!