I made up another blog---> visit here
I did this, well, the blog explains why I did this. I even made it look really girly and frilly because I feel it makes the blog seem less serious that way. Actually, I didn't intentionally make it look that way but I don't plan on changing it anytime soon so I am compelled to make up for the way it looks.
Bahahaha, the link I originally typed in was "aheartsjourney" which has an 's' that doesn't belong and to result was some poem overwhelmingly bordered by butterflies and glittery designs. I didn't even read the poem because I was so taken over by all the bright colors.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
SPEEDO (the cat not the bathing suit brand)
Melise just introduced me to a very creepy video of a cat stalking someone holding a camera. It is one of the scariest things I have seen in a long time. If you can't tell by watching the video and then reading that statement, I don't watch a lot of scary movies.
The video reminded me of my cat Speedo we had when I was younger, in elementary school I think. Generally, he was an outside cat and would come inside when he pleased or at night. Kind of a bigger cat, hairy, soft, every child's joyous plaything. Except mine.
I can't recollect when or why he started it, but Speedo had this thing where he would stalk me from behind a large object; couch, doorway, whatever he could hide behind. It was as if he was honing his wild cat instincts and using me as a potential prey. I would be all the way down the hall in the living room and would see light reflecting off of his eyes just beyond the doorway of a dark room. He ONLY did this to ME. His eyes would focus in on my leg, and I'd freeze immediately. I thought maybe if I stood completely still he would become disinterested. That perhaps it was the kill he wanted to go in for. I was wrong. There was no escaping him.
Sometimes I could get in a warning call to Mom or Dad before the attack happened and they would swoop in to rescue me. Other times, not so lucky and I was in for a battle. Being home alone with Speedo was terrifying.
But I would see him, crouched down, like a tiger preparing to dig his claws deep in his prey. If I ran it just instigated the aggressive ambush. And really where could I run to? If I could make it to another room and shut the door, he would just wait for me to come out and it would just delay the inevitable. So I had to prepare myself and face him. Young and scared.
The stance was always recognizable. He'd crouch, maybe creep a few steps closer, and wiggle his butt. Then, he'd briefly freeze; the eye of the storm. And within a flash he would charge towards me and latch himself onto my leg as I screamed in pain with his claws and teeth buried in my skin. My dad would come out of nowhere with a rolled up newspaper and hit him with it as I shook my leg as if it would urge him to let go.
Speedo wasn't always a jerk to me. I liked him. He was my kitty. Every little girl loves her own kitty. So you can imagine being scarred by an animal you love dearly and never thought twice would betray you. But he did. And it was awful.
We always kept rolled up newspapers in places where the most frequent attacks occurred.
The video reminded me of my cat Speedo we had when I was younger, in elementary school I think. Generally, he was an outside cat and would come inside when he pleased or at night. Kind of a bigger cat, hairy, soft, every child's joyous plaything. Except mine.
I can't recollect when or why he started it, but Speedo had this thing where he would stalk me from behind a large object; couch, doorway, whatever he could hide behind. It was as if he was honing his wild cat instincts and using me as a potential prey. I would be all the way down the hall in the living room and would see light reflecting off of his eyes just beyond the doorway of a dark room. He ONLY did this to ME. His eyes would focus in on my leg, and I'd freeze immediately. I thought maybe if I stood completely still he would become disinterested. That perhaps it was the kill he wanted to go in for. I was wrong. There was no escaping him.
Sometimes I could get in a warning call to Mom or Dad before the attack happened and they would swoop in to rescue me. Other times, not so lucky and I was in for a battle. Being home alone with Speedo was terrifying.
But I would see him, crouched down, like a tiger preparing to dig his claws deep in his prey. If I ran it just instigated the aggressive ambush. And really where could I run to? If I could make it to another room and shut the door, he would just wait for me to come out and it would just delay the inevitable. So I had to prepare myself and face him. Young and scared.
The stance was always recognizable. He'd crouch, maybe creep a few steps closer, and wiggle his butt. Then, he'd briefly freeze; the eye of the storm. And within a flash he would charge towards me and latch himself onto my leg as I screamed in pain with his claws and teeth buried in my skin. My dad would come out of nowhere with a rolled up newspaper and hit him with it as I shook my leg as if it would urge him to let go.
Speedo wasn't always a jerk to me. I liked him. He was my kitty. Every little girl loves her own kitty. So you can imagine being scarred by an animal you love dearly and never thought twice would betray you. But he did. And it was awful.
We always kept rolled up newspapers in places where the most frequent attacks occurred.
Friday, January 21, 2011
"Love is the basic stuff of life." C.T. Vivian
I heard Reverend C.T. Vivian speak last night on campus. He is a man who has probably seen more violence in his 60 or more years peacefully fighting racism (he is 86) than most people have experienced in their lives today. He has stood alongside Dr. M.L.K., Jr. throughout his career prior to his assassination. He has met a lot of hate, a lot of violence, a lot of fear. But he has never succumbed to these things. His love for people was evident the moment he walked on the stage, smiling and waving. He looked no different than I would expect my own grandfather to resemble but my first reaction before he even spoke a word was that this was a man who instills passion into others to be better. He made me feel that way just by the same genuinely joyous smile he presents in the picture to the left.
We meet few people like that in our lives. People who have so much love and compassion that just their presence makes you want to give for others. I believe the person you spend the rest of your life with should also be of this nature. I also believe a lot of things about romantic love but I have not experienced this emotion in a very long time. So what do I know? But I am digressing....
Rev. Vivian came to campus to speak about Dr. King and the way he presented him was with astounding humility despite his own great accomplishments through the course of his life and fervent admiration for Dr. King. I feel that he might be the closest to the Dalai Lama I will ever have the privilege of listening to. And it was fantastic. He never dwelled on the "awe" shocking things that may have happened to him, but on the love from himself, Dr. King, and others that persevered for people of all kinds. A girl asked him how Dr. King could have kept the MOTIVATION to always speak to others, answer questions, and remain patient. Rev. Vivian's response, though drawn out much longer, was basically that he just loved people too dang much.
"Radical love," he said, "is the only thing that can defeat radical hatred."
Saturday, January 15, 2011
El Dia Que Me Quieras
This is the sweetest song of all time. Of course it's in Spanish and written about 50 years ago. Just makes it all the more wonderful. I apologize for not having appropriate accents over letters. For some reason I can't just copy and paste the lyrics over.
By Carlos Gardel
Acaricia mi ensueno It caresses my dream
el suave murmullo the soft whisper
de tu suspirar. of your sigh.
Come rie la vida How life laughs
si tus ojos negros if your black eyes
me quieran mirar. want to look at me.
Y si es mio el amparo And shelter is mine
de tu risa leve from your delicate laughter
que es como un cantar, that is like a song,
ella aquieta mi herida that eases my wound
todo todo se olvida. everything is forgotten.
El dia que me quieras The day that you love me
la rosa que engalana the rose that adorns
se vestira de fiesta will dress from celebration
con su mejor color. with its best color.
Y al viento las campanas And to the wind the church bells
diran que ya eres mia will say that you are mine
y locas las fontanas and the crazy fountains
se contaran su amor. will tell of their love.
La noche que me quieras The night that you love me
desde el azul del cielo, from the blue of the sky,
las estrellas celosas the jealous stars
nos miraran pasar. will watch us pass by.
Y un ravo misterioso And a mysterious ray
hara nido en tu pelo will be nested in your hair
luciernaga curiosa que veras curious firefly what you will see
que eres mi consuelo. that you are my comfort.
El dia que me quieras The day that you love me
no habra mas que armonia. there won't be anything more than harmony
Sera clara la aurora the dawn will be cleared
y alegre el manantial. and happy is the spring.
Traera quieta le brisa The breeze will quietly give
rumor de melodia. rumor of melody.
Y nos daran las fuentes And the fountains will give us
su canto de cristal. their crystal song.
El dia que me quieras, The day that you love me,
endulzaran sus cuerdas sweetening his chords
el pajaro cantor. the bird sings.
Florecera la vida Life blooms
no existira el dolor. pain will not exist.
La noche que me quieras The night that you love me
desde el azul del cielo, from the blue of the sky,
las estrellas celosas the jealous stars
nos miraran pasar. will watch us go by.
Y un ravo misterioso And a mysterious ray
hara nido en tu pelo. will nest in your hair.
Luciernaga curiosa que veras Curious firefly what you will see
que eres mi consuelo. that you are my comfort.
By Carlos Gardel
Acaricia mi ensueno It caresses my dream
el suave murmullo the soft whisper
de tu suspirar. of your sigh.
Come rie la vida How life laughs
si tus ojos negros if your black eyes
me quieran mirar. want to look at me.
Y si es mio el amparo And shelter is mine
de tu risa leve from your delicate laughter
que es como un cantar, that is like a song,
ella aquieta mi herida that eases my wound
todo todo se olvida. everything is forgotten.
El dia que me quieras The day that you love me
la rosa que engalana the rose that adorns
se vestira de fiesta will dress from celebration
con su mejor color. with its best color.
Y al viento las campanas And to the wind the church bells
diran que ya eres mia will say that you are mine
y locas las fontanas and the crazy fountains
se contaran su amor. will tell of their love.
La noche que me quieras The night that you love me
desde el azul del cielo, from the blue of the sky,
las estrellas celosas the jealous stars
nos miraran pasar. will watch us pass by.
Y un ravo misterioso And a mysterious ray
hara nido en tu pelo will be nested in your hair
luciernaga curiosa que veras curious firefly what you will see
que eres mi consuelo. that you are my comfort.
El dia que me quieras The day that you love me
no habra mas que armonia. there won't be anything more than harmony
Sera clara la aurora the dawn will be cleared
y alegre el manantial. and happy is the spring.
Traera quieta le brisa The breeze will quietly give
rumor de melodia. rumor of melody.
Y nos daran las fuentes And the fountains will give us
su canto de cristal. their crystal song.
El dia que me quieras, The day that you love me,
endulzaran sus cuerdas sweetening his chords
el pajaro cantor. the bird sings.
Florecera la vida Life blooms
no existira el dolor. pain will not exist.
La noche que me quieras The night that you love me
desde el azul del cielo, from the blue of the sky,
las estrellas celosas the jealous stars
nos miraran pasar. will watch us go by.
Y un ravo misterioso And a mysterious ray
hara nido en tu pelo. will nest in your hair.
Luciernaga curiosa que veras Curious firefly what you will see
que eres mi consuelo. that you are my comfort.
Friday, January 7, 2011
I love you, dad.
January 7, 2011. It is my dad's 60th birthday.
I meant to write one of these for my mom's birthday at the end of December but we spent the days after Christmas and until her birthday in Ohio where we did not have internet, and I left my computer at home. So before I continue on I want to give a huge "I love you!" to my mom as well for the way our relationship has changed and grown over the past 22 years. I will most likely commit a post to her another time.
My dad is a writer and a poet, a good one, and I feel this is an acceptable way to express my adoration for him.
The title of my blog is "Shaping Motivation". Often times people lose their motivations over a course of years for the passions they once held. You have been teaching/coaching for 36 years and still love what you do. All of your students feel it and your co-workers enjoy working with such an honorable man each day. When I was younger you juggled being a committed English teacher, a coach of multiple sports, manager of a pizza place, and father of 3 complex girls; all in one day. This blog is titled after the Dalai Lama, but if there were ever anyone that applied his wisdom to their lives it is you. For today, this blog is dedicated for the motivation that is shaped in your heart and that is working itself through mine to be the best in my commitments.
For having three daughters, you always found time to dedicate to each of us to make us feel like we were/are more special than the other two. I could boast for all the soccer games you drove me to, all the times we went over proper positioning on the soccer field with salt and pepper shakers and napkin dispensers in the middle of a restaurant, helping me practice ("Practice, practice, practice. And when you're sick of practicing, keep practicing."), my first guitar, reading over papers and working on science projects, reading to me and staying with me until I fell asleep. Any interest I ever expressed you found some way to encourage it. When I went through my scuba diving phase you bought me a "How To Scuba Dive" book though I never committed to taking any lessons. As I grew an interest in international service trips you said that I needed to take self defense classes first. Just a couple of weeks ago you showed up with a used climbing book for me, and even if you don't realize it it shows me that you are concerned about things I love doing and want to see me succeed no matter what the cause is. I could boast for several things, things that made me feel that I stood apart from my older sisters and that I was the daughter you preferred to hang out with. I could boast for these but I know that you made Brittany and Chelsea feel the same way as they grew up. For this, you are an incredible father.
I meant to write one of these for my mom's birthday at the end of December but we spent the days after Christmas and until her birthday in Ohio where we did not have internet, and I left my computer at home. So before I continue on I want to give a huge "I love you!" to my mom as well for the way our relationship has changed and grown over the past 22 years. I will most likely commit a post to her another time.
My dad is a writer and a poet, a good one, and I feel this is an acceptable way to express my adoration for him.
The title of my blog is "Shaping Motivation". Often times people lose their motivations over a course of years for the passions they once held. You have been teaching/coaching for 36 years and still love what you do. All of your students feel it and your co-workers enjoy working with such an honorable man each day. When I was younger you juggled being a committed English teacher, a coach of multiple sports, manager of a pizza place, and father of 3 complex girls; all in one day. This blog is titled after the Dalai Lama, but if there were ever anyone that applied his wisdom to their lives it is you. For today, this blog is dedicated for the motivation that is shaped in your heart and that is working itself through mine to be the best in my commitments.
For having three daughters, you always found time to dedicate to each of us to make us feel like we were/are more special than the other two. I could boast for all the soccer games you drove me to, all the times we went over proper positioning on the soccer field with salt and pepper shakers and napkin dispensers in the middle of a restaurant, helping me practice ("Practice, practice, practice. And when you're sick of practicing, keep practicing."), my first guitar, reading over papers and working on science projects, reading to me and staying with me until I fell asleep. Any interest I ever expressed you found some way to encourage it. When I went through my scuba diving phase you bought me a "How To Scuba Dive" book though I never committed to taking any lessons. As I grew an interest in international service trips you said that I needed to take self defense classes first. Just a couple of weeks ago you showed up with a used climbing book for me, and even if you don't realize it it shows me that you are concerned about things I love doing and want to see me succeed no matter what the cause is. I could boast for several things, things that made me feel that I stood apart from my older sisters and that I was the daughter you preferred to hang out with. I could boast for these but I know that you made Brittany and Chelsea feel the same way as they grew up. For this, you are an incredible father.
Your passion and commitment for everything exudes and spreads into others. I have been learning from you since I had short, boy-cut hair and had to almost run to keep up with your stride (which I also tried to copy). I watched you give money to others; some you barely knew, some good friends. One time I think you gave a man you had just met a few dollars because your charisma and care for other people allow others to feel they can confide in you, even in first encounters. I cannot count the number of words I have heard in respect and adoration towards you as a coach, friend, and teacher. Sometimes my only response is to say, "He is the same as a dad too."
I have strived to be as much like you as I could throughout the years. To care for other people. To give to others. To live to my passions. To write. To seek wisdom. To hold a calm heart. To appreciate the things you have been given, good or bad, and to make out of them what best you can. You take things in and look past the superficial. You strive to better yourself even though in my eyes you are perfect. You have shown examples by actions and words.
In high school once when I was teary eyed from a silly break-up you took me in and jokingly said to me, "You only need me in your life anyways." I laughed. As I look back on all my past relationships no guy could stand next to you in character. As I have grown older, it has become more important to me to find someone that will be as good of a man as you are. This makes it difficult sometimes because there really are few like you, but I know in the end it will be worth the wait and the opportunities I will have to grow in my own way.
Thank you, dad, for all of these things. Most importantly thank you for allowing me to realize that even though sometimes I demand independence and to be free-spirited, I will always know that I will make mistakes and need to remain somewhat grounded. Please know that none of my actions in the past have been in vain. I have learned and sought out answers and ways to be a better person for others though I have so much growing still to be accomplished. I recognize and appreciate how difficult it must be for you and mom to step back sometimes and let me continue on, often without direction. As a parent you want to always protect me and I hope I can keep that trust and complete blind faith that I suspect you must have in me, even though sometimes I feel I do not rightfully deserve them.
I love you, dad. For the person you are and for the person I have become because of you.
My sister Chelsea had one of her creative ideas and decided that each of us would write 20 things we love about dad. 20 x 3= 60. This is my 20...I deleted them before he got a chance to read them for his birthday.
I love you, dad. For the person you are and for the person I have become because of you.
My sister Chelsea had one of her creative ideas and decided that each of us would write 20 things we love about dad. 20 x 3= 60. This is my 20...I deleted them before he got a chance to read them for his birthday.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Home and the Holidays
I took Maya, my oldest sister's 70 pound and wired chocolate lab, to Falling Creek today. It wasn't the day-long or even really half-day excursion that we usually take together but it was still enjoyable. It was my first hike since I got back home a few days ago and the weather couldn't have been more perfect for winter at 50 degrees.
Coming home is a different experience everytime. I am pretty sure I have slept in the guest bed more than "my own" bedroom the past couple of visits since the semester ended for the summer. Grandma has been staying with us from Florida and she has taken my bed because it is the shortest open bed in the house. I am not here most of the time and it is only sensible that she get to have a room of her own. Over Thanksgiving I slept on the couch when all the beds were taken up by visiting family and my sister's boyfriend, Eric. Our family, which I have always taken as a small one, has become busier and is growing fast. It really is not a big deal to sleep elsewhere; I slept on the ground or in a hammock for about half of my summer and on a camp-style bunk bed with a 1-inch mattress the other half. Sleeping on the couch feels similar to being upgraded to sleeping in a castle where there is a room that is just one giant mattress for me to sprawl out on with as many feathery pillows and soft blankets as I could want. I say it "feels similar to" but really I don't know what that is like at all. Anyway, I can't remember the last time I slept in the bed I have had for years in the room that I created as my "safeplace" and that is all I should have said instead of committing an entire paragraph to it. But I did and I refuse to delete it.
Moving on. Coming home.
In response to the continuous presence of people in the house getting away is all the more pleasant. It is not that it is bad being here, it's fun to see family because the dynamics between everyone has changed so drastically, especially since Enslee was born. She has just begun to smile and "coo" at people and the reaction to her doing this is as if she were awarded a Nobel for it...if they were to give those sorts of awards away. I am pretty sure that if I were to win a Nobel tomorrow Enslee would probably smile during my award acception and everyone would turn to take her picture and I would not have any photographic evidence of my honor ever. But it all is with plausible reason. She is the cutest month-and-a-half old baby girl I have ever seen, and I do find my heart melting in acknowledgment that she is smiling because I made her smile. Babies have secret powers and if someone were to acquire these powers the whole world would throw itself at their feet. Enslee is more of a source of pride than I ever would have imagined and I cannot wait to share hiking and nature with her.
When I do need to get out for a little bit it usually takes some form of hiking with Maya, bouldering at the Bald/climbing gym, or indulging in lots of sweet treats with some good friends. Today it was hiking with Maya at the camp I have worked at for the past three summers. It is great to get out there in the off season when there is about 400 less people. Maya and I made up the population in camp today, and she was a great companion to have with me. Walking around with her knowing that we were the only two brought back the same rush of camp in a completely different setting. It placed me in thought; the same thoughts I eased into while star gazing at the lower lake dock or writing underneath the dining hall porch as people played music above me. The trees are bare now but it opens up the forests and revealed bits of camp that I had never noticed before. The lakes were almost entirely frozen but it didn't stop Maya from wading in them. Camp had a completely new and more placid pace that I love as much as the race to formulate last minute nature lesson plans that never proceeded as planned.
John Muir is infamous for attesting the healing powers of nature for the soul, mind and physical body. There is every bit of truth in his words. It is a place of solitude and tranquility. It is calm but busy with the activities of birds to bugs. Nature is forever creating, destroying, and restoring. That is what these woods have explained to me. And this is why I love coming home. I love coming back to the place where I learned to respect nature and to enjoy living out a simple series of moments. I can make each experience what I choose to; quiet, adventurous, crazy, challenging, relaxed. Each one is always fun and from each one I always take something away from it (experience-wise though, not physically. I wouldn't be a good witness for Leave No Trace if I took sticks and rocks with me everytime!)
Hmm, I didn't really write much about the holidays. I will save that for when Christmas and New Year's are more in sight. We will actually be in Hendersonville this year so I am sure I will have lots to say...
Coming home is a different experience everytime. I am pretty sure I have slept in the guest bed more than "my own" bedroom the past couple of visits since the semester ended for the summer. Grandma has been staying with us from Florida and she has taken my bed because it is the shortest open bed in the house. I am not here most of the time and it is only sensible that she get to have a room of her own. Over Thanksgiving I slept on the couch when all the beds were taken up by visiting family and my sister's boyfriend, Eric. Our family, which I have always taken as a small one, has become busier and is growing fast. It really is not a big deal to sleep elsewhere; I slept on the ground or in a hammock for about half of my summer and on a camp-style bunk bed with a 1-inch mattress the other half. Sleeping on the couch feels similar to being upgraded to sleeping in a castle where there is a room that is just one giant mattress for me to sprawl out on with as many feathery pillows and soft blankets as I could want. I say it "feels similar to" but really I don't know what that is like at all. Anyway, I can't remember the last time I slept in the bed I have had for years in the room that I created as my "safeplace" and that is all I should have said instead of committing an entire paragraph to it. But I did and I refuse to delete it.
Moving on. Coming home.
In response to the continuous presence of people in the house getting away is all the more pleasant. It is not that it is bad being here, it's fun to see family because the dynamics between everyone has changed so drastically, especially since Enslee was born. She has just begun to smile and "coo" at people and the reaction to her doing this is as if she were awarded a Nobel for it...if they were to give those sorts of awards away. I am pretty sure that if I were to win a Nobel tomorrow Enslee would probably smile during my award acception and everyone would turn to take her picture and I would not have any photographic evidence of my honor ever. But it all is with plausible reason. She is the cutest month-and-a-half old baby girl I have ever seen, and I do find my heart melting in acknowledgment that she is smiling because I made her smile. Babies have secret powers and if someone were to acquire these powers the whole world would throw itself at their feet. Enslee is more of a source of pride than I ever would have imagined and I cannot wait to share hiking and nature with her.
When I do need to get out for a little bit it usually takes some form of hiking with Maya, bouldering at the Bald/climbing gym, or indulging in lots of sweet treats with some good friends. Today it was hiking with Maya at the camp I have worked at for the past three summers. It is great to get out there in the off season when there is about 400 less people. Maya and I made up the population in camp today, and she was a great companion to have with me. Walking around with her knowing that we were the only two brought back the same rush of camp in a completely different setting. It placed me in thought; the same thoughts I eased into while star gazing at the lower lake dock or writing underneath the dining hall porch as people played music above me. The trees are bare now but it opens up the forests and revealed bits of camp that I had never noticed before. The lakes were almost entirely frozen but it didn't stop Maya from wading in them. Camp had a completely new and more placid pace that I love as much as the race to formulate last minute nature lesson plans that never proceeded as planned.
John Muir is infamous for attesting the healing powers of nature for the soul, mind and physical body. There is every bit of truth in his words. It is a place of solitude and tranquility. It is calm but busy with the activities of birds to bugs. Nature is forever creating, destroying, and restoring. That is what these woods have explained to me. And this is why I love coming home. I love coming back to the place where I learned to respect nature and to enjoy living out a simple series of moments. I can make each experience what I choose to; quiet, adventurous, crazy, challenging, relaxed. Each one is always fun and from each one I always take something away from it (experience-wise though, not physically. I wouldn't be a good witness for Leave No Trace if I took sticks and rocks with me everytime!)
Hmm, I didn't really write much about the holidays. I will save that for when Christmas and New Year's are more in sight. We will actually be in Hendersonville this year so I am sure I will have lots to say...
Monday, December 20, 2010
Birder's Nerd Fest
You can laugh and make fun of me. This is simply me geeking out about the vast mixture of bird species that hang out in my backyard in Hendersonville. And I have lots of spare time while I am home for winter break. My mom has built up a bird sanctuary for her to spy on the various mated pairs from the kitchen and back porch. Unfortunately, it has also become a squirrel sanctuary, and although the white squirrel is a big captivating experience for tourists in this area, they are constantly seen as a nuisance flipping their tail all the way up the bird feeders. So I have compiled some personal experiences and what I've noticed to facts on Nat Geo or other bird sites. Not very extensive research but good to come back to.
Bluejay- Cyanocitta cristata : These guys are bullies. They are big birds, but generally pretty smart. At the zoo where I "interned" ('was enslaved to' would probably be synonymous here) there were two Black-throated Magpie-jays (related to bluejays) that were incredibly intelligent birds; playful too. Anyway, bluejays supposedly do not receive their color from pigments like most songbirds do (there is a neat article somewhere on BBC about how the chemicals for pigmentation in songbirds are making them 'weaker' but 'more attractive'). Instead, their blue color is derived from the internal structure of their feathers and an interaction with light. This is supposed, I need to find something to back this up.
Edit: found the website on BBC due to Melise's inspiration for me to search for it. It's here. Enjoy! Also, here is a site for bluejay feathers and other facts.
Chickadee, Black-Capped- Poecile atricapillus: These guys are incredibly social and widespread. Everybody has seen and heard this species of chickadee, not to mention they are pretty darn cute too. They make a raspy chicka-dee-dee-dee that is lower pitched and slightly slower than a Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis), which we also have. They are all over the place in the winter, and their contrast with the snow is beautiful!
Northern Cardinal- Cardinalis cardinalis
Wren, Carolina- Thryothorus ludovicianus
Titmouse, Tufted- Baeolophus bicolor
Catbird- Dumetella carolinensis: These guys are related to mockingbirds and thrashers. They repeat songs of other birds and even frogs and will sing them for up to 10 or so minutes but do not repeat the notes as many times as a mockingbird does. The catbird's own call is exactly what the name would suggest-it sounds like a raspy "mew" from a cat; except for bird-like. They're primarily grey but have a black cap on their heads and black tails. Diet consists of mainly insects and any available fruits/berries. Interesting fact, catbirds will eat poison ivy. "Dumetella" (their genus) means "small thicket" which is where they are usually found.
White-breasted Nuthatch- Sitta carolinensis
American Robin- Turdus migratorius: I don't know why there are so many robins that come around the feeders. They eat insects, not seeds. They do always tend to hang out on the ground instead of actually taking seeds from the feeders so maybe it is simply a good spot to find some grub. In the winter they become much more gregarious. According to Nat Geo they group at night up to almost 250,000 robins at one time. Crazy! Females tend to have a more orange breast and males red but they tend to look very similar.
Towhee, Rufous-sided (Eastern)- Pipilo erythrophthalmus
Great Horned Owl- Bubo virginianus : I love owls. Simple as that. If I could be transformed into an animal it would probaby be a Snowy Owl or Eurasian Eagle Owl. These guys weigh about 3-4 pounds. We have one in the woods outside of our house someplace and I want to go searching for it soon. The first time I held the Great Horned Owl that SFL rehabilitated it was so powerful. Their talons are tremendously sharp and backed up by an even stronger grip (about 30 lbs of force). Through my glove R2 had left me with a bruise from digging his beak into my wrist. To compare their eyes (which can't move) if you kept the same ratio and placed them in our skulls they would be about the size of tennis balls! Extra vertebrae in their spine help them to turn their heads between 180 and 270 degrees in each direction. And the tufts of feathers on their tibia and tarsus allow them to be silent predators. Several other birds will sometimes run an owl out of an area before it has a chance to prey on them. Nothing like "Big Mama" from Fox and the Hound!
Woodpecker, Pileated (Dryocopus pileatus)- We had one a long time ago, they are amazing to see so close up. When you see this bird think of Woody the Woodpecker from the old cartoon. Their call is similar to a loud, really obnoxious laugh. They can be easily spotted by the red crest superiorly on their head.
Woodpecker, Red-Bellied(Melanerpus carolinus)
Yellow-Shafted (Northern) Flicker- Colaptes auratus: A type of woodpecker. This bird got me into wildlife rehabilitation my senior year of high school when I found an injured one in our backyard. Dad and I took it to someone in Brevard but it had died by the time we made it there. From there I eventually gained contacts to Falling Creek where my interest in birds (primarily raptors) increased. Flickers mainly eat insects but uncharacteristically form woodpeckers they don't always get their food from pecking holes in trees. They eat lots of ants and are known to use acid in ants to rub on their feathers (anting).
Eastern Phoebe- Sayornis phoebe
Eastern Wood Pewee- Contopus virens : Probably one of the cutest birds. I saw one over the summer perching on a low branch. It startled me because it was so close to my head. But as I marveled at its beautiful gray-olive plumage it entertained me with a couple of soft, quick "pee-wee's" before it flew off. It was in no way similar to the call usually heard, which is high-pitched and loud. It is hard for me to identify this bird (honestly, almost all birds) because it looks so similar to other pewees, phoebes, and flycatchers.
Bluejay- Cyanocitta cristata : These guys are bullies. They are big birds, but generally pretty smart. At the zoo where I "interned" ('was enslaved to' would probably be synonymous here) there were two Black-throated Magpie-jays (related to bluejays) that were incredibly intelligent birds; playful too. Anyway, bluejays supposedly do not receive their color from pigments like most songbirds do (there is a neat article somewhere on BBC about how the chemicals for pigmentation in songbirds are making them 'weaker' but 'more attractive'). Instead, their blue color is derived from the internal structure of their feathers and an interaction with light. This is supposed, I need to find something to back this up.
Edit: found the website on BBC due to Melise's inspiration for me to search for it. It's here. Enjoy! Also, here is a site for bluejay feathers and other facts.
Chickadee, Black-Capped- Poecile atricapillus: These guys are incredibly social and widespread. Everybody has seen and heard this species of chickadee, not to mention they are pretty darn cute too. They make a raspy chicka-dee-dee-dee that is lower pitched and slightly slower than a Carolina Chickadee (Poecile carolinensis), which we also have. They are all over the place in the winter, and their contrast with the snow is beautiful!
Northern Cardinal- Cardinalis cardinalis
Wren, Carolina- Thryothorus ludovicianus
Titmouse, Tufted- Baeolophus bicolor
Catbird- Dumetella carolinensis: These guys are related to mockingbirds and thrashers. They repeat songs of other birds and even frogs and will sing them for up to 10 or so minutes but do not repeat the notes as many times as a mockingbird does. The catbird's own call is exactly what the name would suggest-it sounds like a raspy "mew" from a cat; except for bird-like. They're primarily grey but have a black cap on their heads and black tails. Diet consists of mainly insects and any available fruits/berries. Interesting fact, catbirds will eat poison ivy. "Dumetella" (their genus) means "small thicket" which is where they are usually found.
White-breasted Nuthatch- Sitta carolinensis
American Robin- Turdus migratorius: I don't know why there are so many robins that come around the feeders. They eat insects, not seeds. They do always tend to hang out on the ground instead of actually taking seeds from the feeders so maybe it is simply a good spot to find some grub. In the winter they become much more gregarious. According to Nat Geo they group at night up to almost 250,000 robins at one time. Crazy! Females tend to have a more orange breast and males red but they tend to look very similar.
Towhee, Rufous-sided (Eastern)- Pipilo erythrophthalmus
Great Horned Owl- Bubo virginianus : I love owls. Simple as that. If I could be transformed into an animal it would probaby be a Snowy Owl or Eurasian Eagle Owl. These guys weigh about 3-4 pounds. We have one in the woods outside of our house someplace and I want to go searching for it soon. The first time I held the Great Horned Owl that SFL rehabilitated it was so powerful. Their talons are tremendously sharp and backed up by an even stronger grip (about 30 lbs of force). Through my glove R2 had left me with a bruise from digging his beak into my wrist. To compare their eyes (which can't move) if you kept the same ratio and placed them in our skulls they would be about the size of tennis balls! Extra vertebrae in their spine help them to turn their heads between 180 and 270 degrees in each direction. And the tufts of feathers on their tibia and tarsus allow them to be silent predators. Several other birds will sometimes run an owl out of an area before it has a chance to prey on them. Nothing like "Big Mama" from Fox and the Hound!
Woodpecker, Pileated (Dryocopus pileatus)- We had one a long time ago, they are amazing to see so close up. When you see this bird think of Woody the Woodpecker from the old cartoon. Their call is similar to a loud, really obnoxious laugh. They can be easily spotted by the red crest superiorly on their head.
Woodpecker, Red-Bellied(Melanerpus carolinus)
Yellow-Shafted (Northern) Flicker- Colaptes auratus: A type of woodpecker. This bird got me into wildlife rehabilitation my senior year of high school when I found an injured one in our backyard. Dad and I took it to someone in Brevard but it had died by the time we made it there. From there I eventually gained contacts to Falling Creek where my interest in birds (primarily raptors) increased. Flickers mainly eat insects but uncharacteristically form woodpeckers they don't always get their food from pecking holes in trees. They eat lots of ants and are known to use acid in ants to rub on their feathers (anting).
Eastern Phoebe- Sayornis phoebe
Eastern Wood Pewee- Contopus virens : Probably one of the cutest birds. I saw one over the summer perching on a low branch. It startled me because it was so close to my head. But as I marveled at its beautiful gray-olive plumage it entertained me with a couple of soft, quick "pee-wee's" before it flew off. It was in no way similar to the call usually heard, which is high-pitched and loud. It is hard for me to identify this bird (honestly, almost all birds) because it looks so similar to other pewees, phoebes, and flycatchers.
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