Viewpoint

We have a friend who is an artist. We've always known that's what she does. She teaches art in a local high school. This week an exhibit of her work opened in the Pyro Gallery, on old West Main Street in Louisville, and we went, simply because she is a friend. I now know that Debra Lott is an Artist.

Appropriately, she calls the exhibit Viewpoint. For the Elderly Women Series, she went to a nursing home and painted portraits of some of the elderly women there, thus making them immortal. Debbie does not try to hide the wrinkles and arthritis. They all have silver hair. You know they have faced struggles all their lives. But their faces, particularly the eyes, reveal the young girl living in the old body. The canvases are larger than life - 48x72 inches in one instance. Thus the woman becomes larger than life as well. We tend to look past or over old women, especially in a nursing home. Now we must look at them, and it is truly an emotional experience.

This woman is named Ora, and she attended the opening in a wheelchair. She was missing some teeth, and didn't speak loud enough to be heard without bending over, but this was important to her. In her portrait, you see that little girl Ora probably did things she was told not to. She probably liked to tease her brothers and sisters. I went to talk to her, and she said she started to cry when she saw these portraits, because she saw her mother in them. Notice, she didn't see herself, who is still a young girl inside. The old woman must be her mother. It made me tear up too, thinking that all of us are young girls and our mothers at the same time, deep down inside.

After the exhibit, Dick and I went to a downtown restaurant and sat out in the courtyard, since it was a nice evening. A jazz trio began to play. Since the exhibit put me in a philosophical mood, I noticed the ages of the musicians. Two men were clearly in their upper 60's, and the third in his 50's. We wondered if they are full-time musicians somewhere else, and just take the restaurant gig because it gives them a chance to play the music they enjoy. They made it look so effortless. I remember taking band in 5th grade, trying to play my father's old clarinet. I simply couldn't make the connection between the dots on the page and where to put my fingers, so finally gave it up. I enjoy music, and sing tolerably well, but I really admire the people who learn how to play music, or paint a portrait. I say I'm important to these artists, because I'm the audience who appreciates them. I suspect, though, that real artists would play or draw or perform whether I'm there or not. Something in them makes it an important part of their lives.

When you were a child, I asked Dick, what did you say if someone asked what you wanted to be when you grew up? He knew he wanted to do something with writing. And he always enjoyed acting, performing. Going to law school and becoming a trial attorney was the perfect way to combine those ambitions. I, on the other hand, never really had a goal like that. At most, I liked being outside in nature, although my family remembers me as the horse-crazy kid. Well, I spent 10 years as an adult learning to ride and show saddlebred horses. Now, I volunteer at the Falls and spend lots of time in nature. Looks like I've achieved my goal too, in a round-about way. It all depends on your Viewpoint.

Summer at the Falls

Summer at the Falls of the Ohio. Giant puffy clouds fill the horizon when storms threaten.

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Both Black and Turkey Vultures congregate on the fossil beds, cleaning up the carp bodies. The carp leaped around like salmon last week, but cannot swim past the dam, so the Vultures feast at this time of year. They soar at eye level along the deck.

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An unfamiliar fungus grows on a tree. I call it red velvet tree fungus, because that's what it looked and felt like.

Kayakers test their skill and muscles against the river. Idiots on Ski-Doos look for sudden death. The water pours out from the dam. One big wave would be enough to tip over a Ski-Doo trying to power upstream. Kaykers respect the river and know it is a personal contest when they enter the water. People with power toys think they can overcome the power of the river. They will find they are wrong.

Wordless Wander

Footprints wander
Across the sand
Run to safety
Search for food
Rest from long flight
I wonder....

The Vineyard

Many farmers in Kentucky are abandoning tobacco as a staple crop. Some turn to vegetables, or just raise cattle. Hay is so high priced this year, I'm sure those who can get in an extra cutting of hay will do so. Kentucky has long has a reputation as a producer of bourbon whisky, but in the 1800's it was well known for wine as well. More modern farmers are turning to wine making as their primary activity. In addition to planting and tending the vines, gathering the grapes, and bottling the wine, they have learned about the entertainment function of wine making.

Last evening, for example, our Sunday School class made the drive to New Castle, Ky, and the Smith-Berry Vineyard and Winery, for a delightful evening of wine tasting, Bluegrass music, great food, an art exhibit, and (ta-daa) birding! Dick and I were the only ones who appreciated the birding, I'm afraid. A big tobacco barn has been turned into the catering center/bandstand and dance floor. We brought chairs and an appetite, while listening to Hog Operation - how's that for a Bluegrass band name! I don't care for red wines, usually, but continue the search for one sweet enough for my palate, and Smith-Berry has a sweet red wine called Flat Rock Red. I recommend it.

I did not take binoculars and camera, planning to just enjoy our friends and the music, without thinking about birds. Dick still had his equipment in the car, thank goodness. Between sets, we walked down into the vineyards, just to enjoy the evening. The Tree Swallows swooped around, then landed on the wires supporting the vines. They must have been either exhausted or tame, as they sat and let us walk fairly close before taking wing again. I was delighted, since I have been unable to get any photos of the Swallows at the Falls. They were joined by Eastern Kingbirds and several Meadowlarks. At one point, I thought I even saw a Horned Lark! We got Dick's camera from the car, and went back for some great swallow photos and a movie. Another wine tasting/birding trip is called for, since I did not get to try any of the white wines. Nor did we see any hawks, who should have been patrolling these open grassy fields. AND, the nearby barn missing half a roof looks like a fine place for an owl or two to establish residence.

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Sunset happens every day. But sometimes, you enjoy one more than others. It's a matter of being in the right place at the right time, like so much else in life.

A Break in the Weather

I don't really intend to be the Weather Person in these posts, but to a birder, the weather can be important. Either it's lousy, and neither I nor the birds want to be out in it if we can avoid it, or it's turned wonderful, and I can't wait to get outside. Today, the weather is terrific, comfortable in both temperature and humidity after a long spell of hot and humid.

Looks like a great evening for some spur of the moment birding at Garvin Brown Preserve. Birders say it's a large open meadow tucked between the Ohio River and some of the most expensive real estate in the county. A farmer would say it's a big empty field full of weeds. In any event, it's a good place to view all the meadow birds you miss when walking in the woods.

My favorite meadow bird is, of course, the Meadowlark and tonight we hit the jackpot. I have been known to annoy people in my car by driving with the windows down when in farm country, just to listen for Meadowlarks. Tonight, we heard them here and there, and kept hoping we would find one up close. Well, close enough to capture with my lens, then zoom with Photoshop anyway. You can go blind trying to bird at sunset, but this guy just sat on his perch in the next field, about 40-50 yards away, and sang his heart out, with his yellow breast shining as bright as the setting sun. In concentrating on the Meadowlark, I did not see this other bird flying over. We noted the lack of raptors in this field. On closer examination, though, I think it is more likely to be a Barn Swallow, since a lot of them were flying around.

Our other jackpot birds for the evening included an Orchard Oriole, Purple Martin, Tree and Barn Swallows, Cedar Waxwings, and an American Kestral. One more photo gave me two for the money tonight. This cute Song Sparrow and a little lady bug. Looks like he's thinking about lady bug for dessert, doesn't it? I'd love to photograph Swallows on the wing, but just can't see them, find them in the lens and focus before they have moved out of sight. Since I still have the day job, I don't get to go birding often during the week, but it felt like a weekend tonight!

Wordless Wonders

We bloggers like to write and comment on life when no one can interrupt or contradict what we say. I admit it! Lately, I've seen posts on other blogs where only a picture is posted. Commentary and wonder at it is left to the viewer's imagination. My friend, Bob Lenning from Bernheim, identified this dragonfly as a female Common Whitetail. The name doesn't change my wonder at the fine, delicate details of this beautiful insect.

As an exercise in self-discipline, I'm going to give it a try. Sometimes we need to stop gathering information, "facts", and just appreciate life for what it is.

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.

Sculpture in the Dell

No matter how long you live in a community, there are always new things to learn about and new fun places to go. Yew Dell Gardens, in nearby Crestwood, KY, is such a place. The private home of Theodore Klein, noted gardener and artist, has been developed into an outstanding botanical garden, mixing giant old pine and oak trees, pathways lined with elegant holly trees, and multitudes of flowering and non-flowering garden plants. For amateurs like us, everything is labeled. Although we probably won't be able to afford any of the art, we did get some ideas for other things to put in our yard when the landscapers clear out the area under the pine trees. I'd like to look for some old millstones and plant ferns, some different hostas, and maybe impatiens for color.

Tonight is the opening of Sculpture in the Dell, featuring local artists of many types. To me, the most impressive pieces were the large limestone sculptures and fountains placed throughout the grounds. Every time I turned in another direction, I saw more sculptures I hadn't noticed before. In addition to the art, and the opportunity to actually meet the artists, we ran into several friends from the area we hadn't seen for many years, as well as new friends and fellow volunteer naturalists.

The first one here is called Transition Bird. I can see the bird at the top, but never did decide what it was transitioning from. The face in anguish is called Overcoming Oppression, and the artist notes "This piece is about pushing past our self-imposed limitations." The green Cornacopia is "about our blossoming in the abundance of the universal Life Force. What are we harvesting?" Meg White created both Overcoming Oppression and Cougar, shown here. I asked if anyone ever told her that women can't do sculpture, especially in limestone. She chuckled and said that people sometimes confused her work with Don Lawler, a friend and fellow stone worker. However, she uses all the heavy duty stone working tools, and showed us the muscles from it! As both a strong and expressive woman, she works on the details of the cougar fur as it crouches beneath a ledge. The entire work shows some of the rough markings where the stone was quarried out initially as well. Very unusual. I enjoyed hearing the artist's interpretations of their own work.

The Cicadas are back - not quite the force we had in Louisville a few years ago, in my opinion- but enough in Yew Dell to make quite a racket. Two people at Indiana University, in Bloomington, created a movie in 2004 documenting the cicadas and won an award for it. Entitled "Return of the 17-Year Cicada", I expected the kind of monster movie spoof that college students might create. Instead, I found a very well done, serious movie about the life cycle of this insect, and recommend it to anyone reading this blog. In the meantime, here are some pictures of the case left by the nymph after leaving its underground home, and the adults, along with my own movie.

Summer Evening Birding

Summertime, and the birding is easy. Berries ripening And the Bluebird's so blue.

Birding is especially easy when you go to a new nature preserve (well, new to me at least) with the Beckham Bird Club. We had our annual summer picnic at Creasey Mahan Nature Preserve in Goshen, KY, beneath the shade of a maple tree that must have been at least 200 years old, everyone agreed. The breeze made the temperature perfect , and the birds flew right up to us. Next to our picnic area was a half dead tree - bare branches at the top and live ones at the bottom. Before we finished eating, in that tree alone we saw a Mocking Bird going for a singing endurance record, a Cooper's Hawk, and Starlings, while Bluebirds, Swallows and Robins circled overhead. After our hike, we returned to find Cedar Waxwings on the dead branches, more Starlings and Mocking Birds, and a Chipping Sparrow. Just stand in the yard, lift your binoculars, and turn in a slow circle. It's that easy!

The Cooper's Hawk soared against the cotton candy clouds. Then, chased by smaller birds with an attitude, it landed in the dead treetop, undismayed by the delay in supper. Scan the sky above, then scan the ground below. It's a Hawk's life. The hunt goes on.

Even birds must want a breath of fresh air, and a bird's eye view of the scenery once in a while. Instead of hiding in the branches, two incredibly bird birds came out into the open. It's a wonder the camera found their blue against the blue summer sky. An Indigo Bunting and an Eastern Bluebird posed for us. Several Blue Jays flew past, but none landed in the treetops for easy viewing. A Phoebe and an Eastern Towhee chose to remain in the brush, hiding and hopping around to stymie my attempts to get a good photograph once again.

Not be outdone by the blue birds, a Red Bellied Woodpecker showed off his red head and shining ladder back feathers in the evening sun, while a Cardinal made a distant spot of crimson among the green leaves. Tavia Cathcart, the new director at Creasey Mahan, joined our fun, and Dick knows her from Bernheim. I hope we can have many more pleasant hikes with her, so I can pump her for information on flowers and trees. Welcome Tavia!

Who Is That Masked Bird?

When I was a kid, The Lone Ranger was one of my favorite TV shows. At the end of each episode, a townsman would scratch his head and ask, "Who was that masked man?" I felt that way birding at the Falls this morning.

The Cedar Waxwings arrived, and chased each other from one end of the park to another as fast as they could fly, and that's saying something! This must have been the grandfather of the flock, content to sit on a branch soaking up the early morning sun. Our mulberry trees are going to be absolutely FULL of berries in 2 or 3 weeks, and I think these Waxwings are scoping out the neighborhood for the best trees to claim as their own.

As I turned up the trail from the river into the Woodland Trail, I heard a "witchety, witchety" call from the trees. The warbler gods smiled on me and led me to a Common Yellowthroat in the brush, the first one I've ever found myself. He too wears a mask. Do you think masked birds have a secret identity? Are they really some other kind of mild mannered bird during the off season?

Other mystery birds don't need masks to hide their identities. They just dress up to look like any of four or five other birds of similar appearance. For example, I followed a bird around at the Cabin for a while, hoping to get a good picture. From the binoculars, it might have been a Phoebe, but there was no tail bobbing. I heard a Peewee from the branches -- maybe that's what it was. It would leap from a branch, flapping in all directions, then return to the branch with a bug. Some kind of flycatcher, I bet. Yes, there are two wingbars, but I'm completely unable to distinguish the Empidonax Flycathers in the Peterson book from each other. It didn't sing, and mostly stayed silhouetted against the background. An Acadian? An Alder Flycatcher? Your guess is as good as mine. I do like the peacefulness of the bird with the water sparkling in the background, even if I'm not certain what it is. Sometimes you have to enjoy and appreciate without knowledge.

Last week I had good pictures of the Red Bellied Woodpecker at the nest hole. His behavior seemed agitated, but I didn't really know why, until today. I looked for him at the nest hole again today, but saw only a starling, sitting quietly, preening its feathers in front of the nest hole. I am afraid that's what caused the Woodpecker's agitation last week. His nest was being raided and destroyed by a Starling.

Two nice people looked at my photos this morning, and I gave them this blog address, but did not give them the correct one. I'm sorry. That's the danger of putting things in your favorites or using software to remember your passwords. You don't remember yourself if you don't have to use it manually. I hope these people can find this blog, or just come back to the Falls again and ask. My husband got some cards printed up after his retirement. Maybe I should do the same.

Bittersweet Birding

We joined the Beckham Bird Club for another birding adventure this morning at Nettleroth Bird Sanctuary in Cherokee Park. Beargrass Creek winds through the park, flooding the roads when it rains, and attracting a wide variety of birds. We shared the park with bikers, skaters, and dog walkers. The roads are one-way now, so you don't have to dodge traffic in both directions. Watch out for those bikers though, they like to speed!

We counted 45 species today in about three hours of birding. The loudly singing Tennessee Warbler was a new one for me. Our leaders saw some Bay-Breasted Warblers and a Red Eyed Vireo. I heard the Vireo (as always) along with a shy Wood Thrush. One leader and I did actually see a Parula, which others missed - a first for me! I think I'm starting to overcome my Fear of Warblers, after some successes with them this year. A Great Crested Flycatcher called "WHEEP" as we walked along, and I learned the difference between an Acadian Flycatcher and a Phoebe. Small flocks of Cedar Waxwings played in the branches. This pair pushed each other from side to side, while another Waxwing seemed to be the referee for the game.

The walk was bittersweet because it led through the park and right up to the house formerly owned by Dick's parents. Although Dick did not grow up in this house, we still had many happy hours and memories of it. When we visited for a weekend before we got married, Dad would get some extra trail horses at Rock Creek Riding Club, and we rode through the park to tie up at a hitching post right in the yard. After breakfast, we headed back to the barn with the horses. How many people do you know with a hitching post and Cherokee Park in their back yard?

Our children loved going to Grandmommy's house by the park. Once our daughter's tricycle got out of control going down the steep drive, but her long-legged uncle saved her from severe injury at the bottom. Dad always kept the yard mowed, even though parts of it belonged to the Park. The big Ginko tree is still there, but some of the others have died. Now, much has grown up, and young trees are being planted to move the process along. It is appropriate for the Nettleroth Bird Sanctuary to be their back yard, since I became fascinated watching the birds that came to Mom's feeders. It is sweet to remember all the good times, and bitter to acknowledge that this part of our lives is gone forever.

It's much more fun to go birding in the whole park than just the viewing it through the window. Indigo Buntings came to show off their iridescent blue feathers, which some of our group had never seen before. An American Redstart in full breeding plumage displayed his fine colors, fanning his tail to show off. We found the "mossy" looking nest of a Blue Gray Gnatcatcher. Initially, we thought it was empty, but closer examination showed the mother's tail sticking out at the top. The final bird on the list was a Red Shouldered Hawk, and the sun shone right through the translucent "window" of his wings. I learned that there is a Red Shouldered Hawk's nest not too far from my house, but was unable to find it on the way home. I'll have to get our birder friends to show me.

At the Falls on Saturday, the river was completely out of its banks again, so no hiking was possible along the river, but there was plenty of activity in the woods. A mama Red Bellied Woodpecker must have been laying eggs inside her nest hole, because her mate was having absolute fits outside the tree. He called, jumped from limb to limb, and poked his head in the hole repeatedly. The light was wonderful, and I couldn't resist taking lots of photos. I call it "New Dad in the Waiting Room."

Derby Day Birding

In Louisville, the Kentucky Derby is second only to Christmas as the holiday people look forward to the most. The schools close on Oaks Day (the day before the Derby when the Kentucky Oaks race is run) and offices close early, since so many employees have taken the afternoon off.

Years ago, in my younger days, I too enjoyed the Derby festivities immensely. We bought new clothes to wear to parties and the Derby Breakfast with my in-laws. You get dressed up and have brunch at the country club with friends and relatives not seen any other time of year. Men wear jackets in pastel yellow, green and pink, pulled out of the closet for this one day, along with a horsey themed tie. Women buy huge hats. They don't have to wear sunglasses because of the shade under the brim. "Celebrities" come to town for the Derby Parade and big parties with other celebrities. I, of course, don't even know who any of them are. It's next to impossible to get a hotel room, unless it was reserved last year at Derby time. We rarely had tickets to the Derby itself, so before taking the sitter home, we would get flowers to plant in the yard that afternoon. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

In my "mature" days, however, I celebrate Derby differently. I remember wearing heels to the track, and standing in long lines for the ladies room. Standing so long, in fact, that the betting window closed before I could place a bet. I remember standing in line to get a bus back to the parking lot for our car, then waiting in traffic to get home. Now I have more sense than to spend a day standing in line just to lose money betting on horses.

The first Saturday in May is the height of the spring bird migration, and I get much more enjoyment going to the Falls to go birding than all those lines at the track. Last year Brainard Palmer-Ball stopped by, but today I just went by myself, and had a wonderful time. I actually "pished" and the birds came to see me!! I counted over 30 species at the Fall today, not including a couple I didn't really get a good look at. More importantly, many of them were the elusive warblers, AND I got photos of some! Hallelujah! This is much better than winning a few bucks at the track!

Every year, the Northern Oriole sits in the branches, taunting me, daring me to find it. Today, he made the mistake of sitting on the topmost branch of a small tree, and I actually took his picture. Later, I started whistling at a bird who whistled back and forth with me for about 15 minutes. Then, he flew in to see who the stranger was in the neighborhood, and I saw the Oriole again. So now we are good buddies.

Birds of prey are among my favorites, and both the Osprey and a Red Winged Hawk came soaring over in the stiff breeze. Vultures circled in kettles as the sun warmed the land after heavy rain overnight. The Ospreys are building a nest in a power tower, and I saw the male hunting fish for his mate. He stopped to take a quick bath in the river, then went back to work. Later, I saw him with a fish in talon, heading down towards the nest.

Today's big find, however, was the Scarlet Tanager that I missed a few weeks ago. Apparently he has decided to hang around, and came when I pished and squeaked. I think I saw the Swainson's Thrush, and know I saw a Yellow Rumped Warbler and lots of Blue-Gray Gnatcatchers. It's funny to watch one of them come up with a worm in beak, which it proceeds to beat to death on a branch before eating! Tent catepillars are like McDonald's for these small birds. Worms in a bag, yum. I slipped through the mud, and over the dead tree trunks down by the creek. A large bird flew by, and I discovered a Green Heron on a branch, the first I have seen at the falls. Several Indigo Buntings kept me company as I wandered through the woods.

I sent a few pictures to Brainard to ID. I wasn't sure what they are, and always hope it will be something new to add to my Life List. Overall, this was a much more satisfying day than spending the day elbow to elbow with one of the largest crowds in Derby history.

Flowing Stream

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I am River.
I am Movement in the River of Time
I flow from the Rock, and wear it down
I give life to the Forest and Flower and Bird
I destroy and I build as I pass from mountain to sea
I change the face of the Earth.

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The burbling water flows over rocks, while birds sing in the background, and the sun leaves dapples of shade and light. It doesn't get much better than this. Although the Red River flows through the Gorge, water is not the primary eroder of the rocks. Rock Bridge is the only bridge that was actually formed by a stream. The stream also makes a waterfall, which is the perfect place to eat lunch and cool your feet if the day is hot.

Stream life includes fish fingerlings (trout, someone said), and small creatures we could not identify. Freshwater eels? Water snakes? Really long pollywogs? Your guess is as good as mine, or probably better. I always estimated the flood level of a stream by the height of the leaves caught in brances along the shore. This stream was in a rather narrow valley, and the dead leaves hung in the branches a good 15 feet above our heads in places. When there is a flash flood, this is not a place to be.

Listen to the song of the stream. It soothes whatever worries you may have, and puts them into perspective.