Tag Archives: song sparrow (Melospiza melodia)

Farewells – Part 1

The mockingbirds sing and display, their aerial ballets worthy of the finest stages across the globe and their diverse songs reminiscent of the finest works of Mozart.  The first purple martin arrived yesterday, a vanguard leading the way for many others to follow, and soon they will fill the days with profound beauty.  The merlin waded into the crystal river and began its long swim northward, putting behind it this cold season in the south and setting its eyes on love to be found in another place and at another time.  The mourning doves pour upon the sunrise their woeful dirge until my eyes water at the sadness of the sound, yet to them it is not sad but joyous, a plaintive call that seeks to warm the heart of another.

Even as more snow is forecast next week, nature prepares her children for the season that is to come.  An eclectic celebration of dance and music.  The building of nests and the starting of families.  The putting on of fine colors and patterns, the best dress available, the finest suit.  And her migrating offspring begin their journeys.  While many will leave, many more will arrive.  Yet it is the farewells which cut us deeply, not the hellos.

So in honor of the endings that now beset us and the beginnings they foretell, I offer this brief series in celebration of the lives with whom I’ve shared a brief moment this winter, the faces that will now pass into memory as new faces take their place.  And because I believe no life is complete without reading it, I will include the divine words of Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet alongside the beauty of that which even now passes into history.

Farewell to you and the youth I have spent with you.

Yellow-rumped warbler (a.k.a. myrtle warbler or Audubon’s warbler; Dendroica coronata) perched in a bush (2010_02_06_049418)

It was but yesterday we met in a dream.

Cedar waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum) perched on a branch (2010_02_06_049331)

You have sung to me in my aloneness, and I of your longings have built a tower in the sky.

Brown creeper (Certhia americana) climbing the side of a tree (2010_02_07_049537)

But now our sleep has fled and our dream is over, and it is no longer dawn.

A mated pair of northern pintails (Anas acuta) swimming in the bay (2010_01_24_048844)

The noontide is upon us and our half waking has turned to fuller day, and we must part.

Song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) perched in winter reeds (2010_01_12_048009)

If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song.

Ring-billed gull (Larus delawarensis) standing on a submerged log (2009_12_20_045591)

And if our hands should meet in another dream we shall build another tower in the sky.

— — — — — — — — — —

For those looking to fill your weekend not with farewells but with hellos, I turn your attention to these delectable blog carnivals.

Friday Ark #283: Steve ushers critters aboard the ark throughout the weekend, so visit now and visit often.  Through Sunday you will find a growing collection of marvels both great and small.

I and the Birds #119: The Cult of Birds: I cannot recommend enough that you visit Laura’s edition of this bird carnival.  She is someone I look up to as a writer, a naturalist, a feeler of emotions.  Her edition of this celebration of all things winged is the preeminent presentation that should not be missed.

An Inordinate Fondness #1 – Inaugural Issue: A man for whom I have developed a sincere admiration and great fondness, Ted MacRae offers up the inaugural edition of a carnival celebrating the largest group of animals on the planet: beetles.  His passion manifests clearly in this festival, and he sets the bar high for future versions that no doubt will struggle to meet this standard.

Photos:

[1] Juvenile yellow-rumped warbler (a.k.a. myrtle warbler or Audubon’s warbler; Dendroica coronata)

[2] Subadult cedar waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum)

[3] Brown creeper (Certhia americana)

[4] Mated pair of northern pintails (Anas acuta)

[5] Song sparrow (Melospiza melodia)

[6] Ring-billed gull (Larus delawarensis)

Winter visitors – Part 2

Quiet.  Even at this hour, it blankets the world around me.

Feeble sunshine winks through wisps of cirrus as a distant star lingers over the horizon.  Soon it will cast no more light except what bends and bounces through the atmosphere.

A male redhead (Aythya americana) swimming in White Rock Lake (2009_11_15_039836)

Nightfall comes soon these days.

Overhead, silently as though nothing more than apparitions of the mind, three American white pelicans glide effortlessly, their wings slightly bent to slow their momentum.  They come to join their brethren at the lake for what the season brings.  Shadows against a sky dimly lit by dusk, they do not speak and do not waver.  Soon they will rest with familiars in a place wherein they are protected, welcomed, enjoyed in their natural state.

A crisp, autumnal cool front passed by recently.  The air feels dry as it brushes my cheek with soft caresses promising winter’s impending arrival.

A male northern pintail (Anas acuta) sleeping near the shore of White Rock Lake (2009_11_15_040011)

And in the week ahead, my beloved friend seems perched behind falling leaves and a landscape turning bare, for even though the hour is late, cooler temperatures now prevail—though cooler only than yesterday and last week and last month, but not cool enough yet.

What can I say but from my love of such things comes great joy.

The brisk touch of icy fingers born on northerly winds…

Air cleansed by squeezing hands wrought of arctic intent…

A male lesser scaup (Aythya affinis) swimming in White Rock Lake (2009_11_14_038655)

Huddled masses of humans seeking every bit of sunlight in which to stand, afraid of what shivers shade might bring…

The smell of cold, even by Texas standards, that rests sweetly on the tongue…

Visitors from far off places blessing me with their arrivals, their taking shelter here from what besets their homes elsewhere…

A white-throated sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) perched in a tree at White Rock Lake (2009_11_14_038971)

Trees shed their summer clothes in favor of the stoic dress of winter, bare limbs standing like skeletons against brief days and long nights…

The rustle of leaves carried to and fro tickles my ears…

These things and more carry beauty to the very heart of me.

A female dark-eyed junco (Junco hyemalis) foraging on the ground at White Rock Lake (2009_11_01_036852)

This is my season, this season of cold, this season of change.

A song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) perched in reeds along the shore of White Rock Lake (2009_02_03_006432)

Let winter come.  Let Nature bring her chill upon the land.  I’m ready.  I’m wanting.

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos:

[1] A male redhead (Aythya americana).  He and his mate arrived early one morning under the cover of heavy clouds.  Less gregarious than their scaup and mallard cousins, the two ducks remained far out in the middle of the lake and visited the shore only briefly.

[2] A male northern pintail (Anas acuta).  Never have I seen a female pintail at the lake, though one or more males often spend winter here.  A truly global species, pintails occupy the entire northern hemisphere as one vast population with no known subspecies.

[3] A male lesser scaup (Aythya affinis).  Before autumn gives way to winter, he will be joined by many of his friends, both males and females, and the group of them will mingle with coots and ducks and cormorants and pelicans and a host of other waterfowl and shorebirds who overwinter at White Rock Lake.

[4] Though I recently covered many of the sparrow species visiting for the season, the white-throated sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) was not included.  These birds, like spotted towhees and brown thrashers, spend a great deal of time rummaging through dense brush and thickets, hence they aren’t always easy to photograph—though they certainly are easy to hear.  I lucked out when this one perched high in a tree and sat patiently while I tried to snap a few photos.

[5] Another sparrow species not covered in my previous entry is the dark-eyed junco (Junco hyemalis).  Juncos are in fact sparrows, though unlike most of their brethren they lack the typical sparrow colors and patterns.  Their clean markings and small size make them a delight to see.

[6] An additional sparrow that overwinters in Dallas is the song sparrow (Melospiza melodia).  Their soft call and distinctive song fill the marshes and reed beds around the lake.

It’s just a sparrow

A lot of people hate sparrows, or at least many ignore them.  Small, insignificant birds, scourges related to the introduced and reviled Old World creature, the house sparrow (Passer domesticus).

A male House sparrow (Passer domesticus) perched on a bush (2009_02_21_010379)

And when most look at a sparrow, that’s all they see: something to be treated with nonchalance, something pedestrian and common.  Or worse, something repulsive because a group of fools let it loose upon North America in hope of bringing the birds of Shakespeare to the New World.

Not that house sparrows are evil, mind you, for they’re not; they’re simply doing what nature made them to do.  You can’t blame the species—or any other species for that matter—simply because humans unleashed them in non-native habitats.  If that’s you and you’re looking at someone to blame for what house sparrows do, you need only look in a mirror for the right target.

Yet all the disgust aimed at house sparrows too often blinds people to the native species that bring a great deal more to the table than a fit of misguided anger.

A white-throated sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) foraging beneath a canopy of cloud, trees and brush (2009_04_19_016196)

Who would notice a white-throated sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) foraging beneath a canopy of cloud, trees and brush?  A little bird, sure.  Why bother with such a common creature?  After all, it looks like every other sparrow, so there’s no need to stop and appreciate its beauty.

A Lincoln's sparrow (Melospiza lincolnii) perched at the edge of a forest (2009_03_07_012249)

Or what of the Lincoln’s sparrow (Melospiza lincolnii) perched at the edge of a forest, crest raised and eyes watchful?  It’s nothing more than a shadowy figure always flitting about in thickets and woodlands, always nothing more than a fleeting glance of something wistful.  And since it looks like every other sparrow…

A field sparrow (Spizella pusilla) atop a withered reed at the lake's edge (20080202_01669)

A field sparrow (Spizella pusilla) atop a withered reed at the lake’s edge must be nothing more extraordinary than a female house sparrow.  The size and color of its beak means little to the common observer.  But for the rest of it, what minor differences exist represent variations on a theme instead of beauty.

A song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) perched on a reed (2009_02_03_006429)

My observations show a song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) perched on a reed is no more noteworthy than an ant climbing a distant hill.  To me, it’s as though these feathered wonders are invisible, cloaked by the bending of space that renders them unseen and unheard.  But what a song they sing!  And too bad for those who fail to notice.

A Savannah sparrow (Passerculus sandwichensis) perching in lakeside brush (2009_03_21_013285)

Just one of many Savannah sparrows (Passerculus sandwichensis) perching in lakeside brush commands little interest from those who pass by.  Tiny to the point of being inconspicuous, these varied and diverse fowl escape the notice of all but the interested.  And who would be interested in sparrows?  Few, I can tell you that.