The largest bird I can see with any regularity is the great blue heron.  Technically there’s some overlap in wingspan with bald eagles, but I see those less often, and I do think they are smaller overall, for not having a heron’s snake neck and long bill.

They’re pretty cool.  The way color and texture of feathers varies over the body lends interest, but the dominant color is low key blue-grey.  Classy.  Herons, egrets, and the hilarious bitterns are in the Ardeidae, united in having the long legs, snake neck, and stabbing beak.  They skulk, they wade, they snap up a small animal, and they swallow it whole.

I once saw one put away a very chubby rodent like this.  Grab it, toss it in the air, then swallow.  Freaky.  I’ve read that they are so voracious they will die from swallowing inadvisable prey.  There was a case in California where one had swallowed an eel that produces choking mucus, and died.  Then the heron next to it grabbed another eel and went out the same way.  C’mon, guys.

More random experiences…  On a birding trip to the Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge, I got my best view ever of one, through the free mounted telescope.  The bird had landed on a rail further down the walkway, and through the scope was as easy to see as a pet cat in your lap.  Cool details, beautiful animal, but when it defecated, it looked like somebody chucking a coffee mug full of liquid paper out the backside.

One time I took a vacation all by myself when I was alone in life, no friends family or lovers to bring along.  It was the dark of winter, cold and abysmal, taking a ferry from Seattle to Port Townsend.  The weather kept me from seeing as much wildlife as I would have preferred, but I got to hear the call of a heron for the first time – a great croak, like you’d imagine coming from a man-eating toad in D&D.  Nice.

Right after that I returned to art school on the Seattle waterfront, the early class having me there before dawn.  I heard the call again, and looked down just in time to see one gliding between the masts of docked sailboats, illuminated by amber street lamps.

A few times at beaches in South King County I was able to wade within thirty feet of one while it fished.  Not as good as the telescope view, but kind of fun.  One time while birdwatching in Ballard, I saw one across the locks in a park where they are known to nest, feeding a chick what looked like a four foot snake.

I just like to see a big-ass bird in flight.  They’re not the truly big ones, but respectable, and they’re what I’ve got.  Watch the big angel wings beat the sky, and if you’re lucky, hear the big devil croak.

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TLC said they don’t want no scrubs, and it was clear when that song debuted that it was about me.  I was born further south than where I was raised, so I am a California Scrub.  I’m just one descriptor shy of being this bird: the California scrub jay.  CSJs are on the boring end of jay styles, with a very generic bird profile, and more brown and grey than most other jays.  But they’re a cool bird.  Decent size and a tendency to briefly alight on fences and awnings, so easy to spot.

Less chonky and clumsy than crows, they don’t stick around for long.  Blink and you’ll miss them, and when I was a kid, I did a lot of blinking, because I only ever saw them once, and not close enough to ID.  I had assumed they were the blue jays known as blue jays, which, as it turns out, do not live in the region at all.  I am only confident those were CSJs in retrospect, because I am once again living on the very same street where I was at the time of that encounter, and CSJs are everywhere here.

Speaking of awnings, that was the only time in my life when you might have caught me lounging on a roof.  I was living in squalor and family dysfunction, but I was living on the second floor, and outside of my window was some rooftop.  I didn’t spend much time on it.  One night my brother and I saw something like the aurora borealis, but it didn’t make sense, middle of summer?  I know jack about shit.  I was skinny with long hairs, and I sang the Misfits’ Last Caress in the garage of that apartment, with my homies on instruments.  White people foolery.  Make the neighbors hate you.

CSJs only came back into my life again within the last couple of years.  I was living up the hill in Federal Way and commuting to work in the valley, at a building surrounded by scrubby fields of the exact kind you’d expect for them.  And yet I didn’t see them the first year I worked there.  Don’t know why.  When I did start to glimpse them, they were at long distance, shy, flighty.  Took a long time to get a positive ID, but once it happened?  Some pretty nice close encounters.

Sadly my work moved out of that building, which is surely slated for destruction by whoever it was sold to.  The enshittification of everything continueth.  But just as my work moved uphill to Fed Way, I moved downhill to Auburn, and CSJ City.

California Scrub Jays are blue on top, white on bottom, with a little reddish brown vest.  I’m not usually close enough to see this, but they have a bit of a black mask and white eyebrows.  They’re not the only jays in this neighborhood, but Steller’s jays prefer the cover of trees, are out in the open less often.  But I saw Steller’s pretty often during a decade of Federal Way, so scrub jays feel fresh and cool to me now.

I want to see scrubs
Scrubs are some birds that can get the love from me
I hear them inside when they have to cry
The sound down my chimney

Eh, needs work.  Not happening.

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My “life list” as a birder is unremarkable, but the wee beasties make me feel some type of way, so I thought, articles about them.  First entry…

I always liked nature, liked birds, but I somehow just didn’t pay attention to them – at least, not enough to notice just how many were around me, what they looked like, acted like, sounded like.  I’d see chickadees one month and by the time I took any note of another bird, forgot enough that I assumed house sparrows were the same species – then not noticed another bird for two years.

The first bird that sparked an abiding interest for me, at about age thirty, was the northern flicker – a very humble woodpecker.  Most woodpeckers in North America are bold black and white, with pure red flashes.  Flickers and their cousins are a tawny brown, where the black and white on them turn into “cryptic” camouflage, and the red ranges from rust colored to salmon to yellow, in the eastern end of their range.  Dull.  But still.

I used to see a brown bird on the ground with red bits and assume it was just an american robin (i’d rather call ’em the anglicization of their binomial, “migratory thrush,” because bitches do not look like real robins).  Until one day, I saw one of those birds take off, and reveal red all over the bottoms of its wings – then proceed to land on the side of a tree, in a way that was impossible for robins.  I stalked that bird all around Meridian Playground in Wallingford, hoping to get a better view, but the cryptic plumage and nervous demeanor kept it out of reach.

I went home and scoured the internet until I got my ID.  Despite my having never noticed them, they are extremely common.  There are no doubt tens of thousands of them in the region, maybe hundreds of thousands.  When you come to recognize their CHEEE! call, you realize how many there are, whether you see them or not.  And they aren’t that hard to see, because unlike most of the woodpeckers here, they feed near or on the ground.  I’ve seen them in the middle of a paved expanse, no trees in sight, flicking moss out of a sidewalk crack to get bugs.  They’re everywhere.  How did I miss them?

Now I try not to miss birds.  To honor the northern flicker, I got one tattooed on my left shoulder.  Still haven’t been able to get it colored.  Speaking of which, as plain as they are, they really are very cute.  They have these brilliant black polka-dots, a black crescent bib, red teardrop shapes sliding off their cheeks, and of course, the red under their wings.  Most birds are pale under the wing, for countershading, so it’s very cool to see a bird buck that trend in bold style – even if the red isn’t as pure as it is in their flashier cousins.  Compared to a lot of other brown birds, they are more tawny and pale, which makes their eyes look more dark and sweet.  They are about the same size as an american robin, but as woodpeckers, can easily move around on the sides of trees.  Powerful feet with two toes facing forward and two back.

I haven’t gone as deep into describing all the cool details about them as I could.  Check them out sometime, if you can.  Northern flickers.  Cool guys.

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