My Gaia

If I were a fashion designer, I’d model my creation on the Blue Jay. I’d design a gown made entirely of silk. The front would be palest grey, with a snow-white collar set off by an obsidian necklace. The cowl and short cape would be of periwinkle blue. The glory of the gown is its sleeves, with many blue panels bordered black like the panes of a stained-glass window. From the back, a long train of blue is trimmed with narrow black bands. When it moves, it reveals glimpses of a white lining.

I have a Bloodroot in the shady garden by my living room window. Four years ago, I planted one that a friend gave me, sharing a treasure of her woodland garden. For the first two years, my Bloodroot made leaves only. In the third year, it produced elegant, white flowers in early spring. When the flowers passed, I found two small seedpods. I watched them carefully for weeks, so that I could collect seeds. One morning, one of the pods was open and empty.

Suddenly there was a thump. A panicked bird had hit the outside of my window. Birds were exploding out of the yard like shrapnel. Water still rippled in the birdbath where Mourning Doves had been drinking. On a low branch of a maple, orange eyed, alert as an angel, crouched an adult Sharp-shinned Hawk. Her head swiveled in micro-movements. She studied bare branches above her and the snowy ground below. She was a thrill to see. Hawks are not so common as cardinals and juncos.

When Michael and I moved into a house in Santa Barbara, I put whole peanuts on the back porch railing. Immediately they attracted the attention of a California Scrub-Jay. Clearly the peanuts were the interest, but I felt honored, especially when the bird took a peanut that I held in my fingers. It was the first wild bird I ever got to know personally. Soon, while Michael and I were having breakfast on the porch, it came and took peanuts from Michael, too.

From blocks away, you couldn't miss the crowd in downtown Corpus Christi, Texas. Birders with binoculars and photographers with long lenses were all looking the same direction. When you got to the spot, you could easily see the yellow bird on the curb. It was the first and only Cattle Tyrant ever seen in the United States. It’s a rich lemon custard on the front. A species of flycatcher, it normally lives in South America. It ranges barely into Panama. But never north of Panama. Birders were ecstatic.

“Nectar here. Help yourself. It’s free!” That’s what the blue of Bottle Gentian blossoms declares. But Bottle Gentian is tricky. The flower generously offers a handout but keeps its petals closed. The five petals are sealed together along their edges, with their tips pressed tight together at the top. And the petals will never open. Most insects go away hungry, because they cannot get to the nectar. Bumblebees are bigger than other bees. Stockier than butterflies. Stronger than most other insects.

You might walk past a singing male Henslow’s Sparrow and not realize that a faint little tsk sound you heard was a bird’s song. It’s soft and quick. Here is an example of a male’s song, which I recorded in a grassy field near my home. (To hear it, you might need to turn up your volume.) Audio playback is not supported on your browser. Please upgrade. The least impressive bird song in the world, right?

The Giant Swallowtail is the biggest butterfly in North America. It has a six-inch wingspan. Giant Swallowtail sipping nectar from Swamp Milkweed I took this picture while photographing a luscious Swamp Milkweed in a wet meadow. Suddenly a huge yellow butterfly landed on the milkweed and posed. Thanks for reading My Gaia. If you have a friend who might enjoy this post, please share it with them.

The first thing I heard outside this morning was a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird. She was hovering in front of a Cardinal Flower, a native wildflower or North America. Ruby-throated Hummingbird visits Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinals) Those red blossoms hold a reward of nectar inside. I think the flower was glad to see the hummingbird, too. Cardinal Flowers depend on hummingbirds. Hummers are the only creatures adapted to pollinate its flowers.