In the last three months, we’ve had 8″ of moisture. That’s an incredible amount of water for a region that normally sees 14-16″ for the entire year. It has been a cold, wet, gloomy spring.
This morning, the dogs went berserk at something in the backyard. When we looked out, we saw a male and a female mallard duck. This is unusual, because the nearest open water is at least 2 miles away.
Here is the male mallard pushing his way through the snow towards our bird feeders. We think he was looking for grain that the other birds spill out of the feeders, but our corgi eats it up as fast as it hits the ground.
In this photo, the male is eating some grass. I don’t think it agreed with him, because he stopped after only a few mouthfuls.
This is the only shot I got of the female mallard. She is on the far side of a little fencing we have to keep the dogs from wearing a path in the grass by chasing squirrels.
My husband called them “cold ducks” — a play on them being out in the snow and the wine called “cold duck”. Get it?
It has been a long cold hard winter along the Front Range of Colorado. We have gotten enough snow in February to wipe out the incipient drought we were headed into, which is a good thing. But it came at the cost of a snowstorm every couple of days. That was hard.
We’re not out of winter yet — March and April are typically our snowiest months in Colorado.
But as the dogs and I went for our morning walk, we also found the first signs that spring is on the way.
As we walked, we heard the “eh-eh-eh-eh-eh” call of a male Northern Flicker trying out his mating call.
Further on, we found a Spotted Towhee by his “cha-cha-chaaa” call. Like the flicker, his calls right now are just warm-ups. He quickly dropped down to the snow to hunt for seeds.
Hearing these guys practice their mating calls cheered me up. And as we walked home through the cold, the sun broke through the clouds, promising a sunny day.
I got up to let the dogs out around 4:00 this morning. While I was standing at the door waiting for them to finish, I heard Great Horned Owls hooting back and forth.
Great Horned Owls are laying their eggs now so their young will have hatched by the time prey like rabbits and mice are making their forays out of their nests.
Although Great Horned Owls normally hunt at night, every once in a while they are out in the day.
To see well at night, owls have very large eyes. In fact, owl eyes are so large that they are fixed in their sockets. This owl has turned it’s head completely around to see what’s happening behind it. Courtesy Randy Law
These large predators have the biggest range of any owl in North America, from the arctic tundra to southern deserts to semi-tropical forests, although they hunt better in semi-open areas. Their territory certainly includes my suburb in the foothills.
Look at how far into the owl’s feathers the handler can put his finger! No wonder they can nest in the arctic. This bird is captive because its other wing is broken, and it can no longer hunt for itself.
… the turkey vultures are back!
As large birds, turkey vultures depend on thermals to work themselves up to as high as 10,000 feet to search for carrion (dead animals). Once aloft, they fly with their wingtips splayed out finger-like for better flight control while soaring.
Turkey vultures are large dark birds. When they soar, they spread their wingtips.
Because they need warm air to lift them, you’ll only turkey vultures from early spring through late fall. During these seasons, you can spot turkey vultures soaring in the air everywhere in Colorado except high valleys and mountains. They especially like piñon-juniper and mountain shrublands.
How do you know it’s a turkey vulture? TVs are very large birds which, when seen from below, are all dark, except the back edges of their wings which are translucent (allow light through). Most commonly seen when soaring, their flight is “tippy”, with their wings in a slight “V” when you see them head on. The head seems almost nonexistent from below.
Because they are meat-eaters, Turkey Vultures have traditionally been classified with birds of prey, but turkey vultures may be much more closely related to storks and flamingos. They lack the razor-sharp beak and grasping talons of the hunters of the sky, and so cannot catch their own prey, or even tear into a fresh carcass. Because of this, the Cherokee Nation calls turkey vultures “peace eagles”.
Instead, turkey vultures act as garbage disposals. Special traits equip them for this job. TV’s find carrion by smell, but use their excellent sight to find other TVs who have found something to eat. Turkey vultures can digest truly toxic germs, eating rotten meat with impunity. Once they find some dead thing, they plunge their featherless red heads in and gorge until they can barely fly. We owe these and other scavengers a debt, for without them, we would be knee-deep in carcasses.
For a bird, Turkey Vultures are smart, gentle, sociable and, despite their public image, clean. Their Latin name, Cathartes, means “purifier”. The Spanish name for turkey vulture is zopilote (so-pee-low-tay), which is just a cool word to say.