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Daphne’s Back!
We never know when to expect her; she drops in to visit when it suits her, and she usually comes by in the fall. Even without knowing if and when she’ll arrive, it’s always good to see her. She travels light and is a very undemanding guest. I never have to worry about her talking my ear off, because like me, she prefers silence. Sometimes she brings a friend, which we’re always happy to see. We want our home to feel like her home when she comes. She doesn’t expect us to cater to her, and she mostly keeps her own company; she’s not a fussy eater and mostly chooses to eat out.
She’s quite a beauty, you know. She dresses in subtle but warm tones and makes a lovely fashion statement.
She’s truly become a part of our fall routine, and I miss her at those rare times she doesn’t show up. We wear warmer clothes, cook food that sticks to our bones, slow our pace from day to day, and take time to reflect and contemplate; I like watching her follow her own rhythms.
She loves the water and indulges that desire every day. I’m not fond of swimming myself, so I watch her from a distance and admire her form and style.
It’s so delightful to have her around.
If you have a fall or winter guest who comes to visit, I’d love to hear about it!
There’s always Mother Nature!
I find myself making it a point to view animal photos/videos, photos & videos of natural wonder.
It really helps re-enter oneself.
Mom Nature is a great choice: she offers you all kinds of wonderful possibilities!
I make a point of driving by Lake Michigan on my way to work vs. Taking the ‘ugly’ highway.
With the water temperatures getting colder and colder, I still can’t grasp how effective the insulation is on that waterfowl!
I get it, there’s down feathers, trapped air in a water repellent wrapper but still, what kind of R-value do those little creatures have?
I wish I could help! Maybe some R-value expert can enlighten us!
Our Townsend’s Warbler used to come around only in the fall and winter. We now see him almost year-round. He visited just a couple of days ago.
It’s duck season! No, it’s wabbit season!
Back when my dad was alive, he had a male-female pair of mallards who would visit his yard in season, and swim in the pool. He called them Ike and Tina.
I don’t know why he picked these names. I do think that he meant Ike and Tina Turner, but I don’t recall him ever being a fan of their music. (And believe me, I knew my dad’s music, Barry Manilow and all.)
Susan, is there a story behind your use of the name Daphne? I didn’t peg you for a Scooby Doo fan. :)
What a cutie! And such beautiful markings. Does he warble well? ;-)
I love that! We love Tina. I don’t watch Scooby Doo (although I know he has a bizarre way of talking). We name a lot of critters and can never be certain if they are the same critters we originally saw: Ralph is the alligator, a smaller alligator is Rachel, and Daphne just came to me. I definitely think she’s a Daphne!
I believe she is a female Pintail.
Gazing at my Florida bird book, that’s what I assumed too!
Me too.
My wife’s spirit animal . . .
Mommy Bird and Daddy Bird, the Barn Swallows, haven’t been around recently. Hopefully they’re taking a break during the colder weather after having raised TWO batches of babies, 3 each, over the warmer months. Their nest – in the sheltered overhang outside my front door – awaits their return in the spring, but I think they deserve some time off.
That’s nice of you, kedavis. My recollection of swallows in CA is that we were always getting dive-bombed if we were near their nests! Vicious little guys! I swear they glared at us!
The ones at my front door seem pretty mellow. Sometimes Daddy Bird especially would be perched above in a kind of guarding position, and might even have been somewhat glaring at me, but there was never any dive-bombing. Maybe they appreciate the shelter they receive at that location. And I’m not really going in and out all that much anyway.
Also, as I’ve related in other posts (such as https://ricochet.com/1274593/the-eggs-that-will-never-hatch/ ) their own attempts at nest-building in that “alcove” were fruitless until I put up a “shelf” to protect the remote sensor for my indoor/outdoor temperature/humidity gadget and to provide them a more suitable base for construction. (They kept trying to put mud on top of the sensor to start a nest, but it wasn’t going to hold up there either.) So they might even recognize me as a friend, not a threat.
I actually put up two shelves in that area; they weren’t interested in the bird seed that I put in a little bowl on the other shelf – Barn Swallows apparently don’t eat seed unless there are no bugs/worms/etc to be found – so I started putting water there instead. I think they really liked that.
They don’t seem to bother the cats that hang around my front door either.
Now if I were a duck …
… that’s about right.
Oh, and in case anyone missed this in a recent meme post:
Is that what Dr Freedman meant?
Very cool! You’re a good host!
We all need more Daphne in our lives.
Bless.
I live out in the sticks, and although I have only about30 acres (small beer when it comes to farms), somehow those acres manage to encompass a few different microecosystems. There’s the area around the house, with a certain type of birds and mammals, and that down at the bottom of the field (about 10 degrees colder and much shadier), which has a completely different sort of flora and fauna.
Somewhere in between is the habitat of the Eastern Phoebe. They live about halfway down the field, among the crabapples and the dogwoods, but before you get to the areas devoted to the Cedar Waxwings, the Baltimore Orioles, and the Scarlet Tanagers, all of which are quite different to those which regularly appear outside my house windows.
Many years ago, I discovered (thanks to Levi, my darling and enormous Great Pyrenees) this little mite amongst the weeds:
She was scarcely bigger than my thumb.
I looked and looked for her nest. Couldn’t find it. Took her in. Spent a great deal of time investigating, via the Internet, how to feed a tiny bird. Eventually put her in the south-facing window, and fed her the recommended stuff (you probably don’t want to know).
She thrived.
After a while, I tried to put her out, in her normal habitat, half=way down the field.
She refused to go.
On the second try (after I’d spent a considerable amount of time ensuring a fall-back position if all else failed), off she went!
For the next two or three years, on a reliable schedule, a Phoebe would appear at my south-facing window to say hello.
I’m sure it was her.
You would know. That’s lovely. So sweet.
Dang, I think that drake knew exactly what he was doing and ended up exactly where he wanted to be! No out-of-control floundering at all.
He slides right up, “Hey, babe!”
My coworker Laura Turner had two cats. She named them Eek and Tuna. Turner.
Sign that bird up for the curling team!