Crow Eats a Mouthful of Teeth - Thoughts on the Warm Blooded - Cold Blooded Conflict

By Mel Carriere

I guess it is only fair on a blog about birds to take pause, change directions, do an about face and write about reptiles for a change.  The ornithologists tell us, after all, that birds came from reptiles, although whether they were reptiles springing up from the ground (leaping lizard theory) or reptiles parachuting down from the trees (Rocky Flying Squirrel though a mammal not a reptile theory) is still the subject of a great deal of debate.  I take no position in this evolutionary hair splitting.  Who is to say that birds didn't develop from both directions at different times, or even at the same time?  I'll coin this as the Gliding Gecko in the Middle of the Wall Theory.

I'm not ready to completely fly the aviary and wriggle on my belly over into the field of herpetology, however.  This is not necessary, because ectotherms and endotherms still interact from time to time, and from what I've seen there is a great deal of vestigial resentment among the scaled set over this secession, combined with a fair amount of enmity within the feathered community that emancipation did not happen sooner.

For example, on my route today I witnessed a Crow doing battle with a feisty alligator lizard.  I have written a lot about Crows lately on this blog; mostly about a Crow I call Clyde who frequents my yard every morning and evening, poking about for provender.  My wife has been feeding him dried mealworms as a snack because she is afraid my son might start munching them in a fit of ravenous, insatiable, late night hunger when he comes back from the bar.  Last Sunday evening Clyde graciously accepted this snack offering from my wife, although he seemed to grow tired of the stale dried grubs and sauntered off looking disappointed, perhaps having assumed she had dumped a bag of tasty Doritos on the lawn, as any self respecting upright walking monkey normally would.

Just like these upright walking monkeys that we call human beings, Crows are unfussy omnivores that will eat just about anything.  This could be why throughout the course of history Crows and Humans do not get along.  These birds compete with us for the same food, and this is why there have been great Corvid purges during which we brand them as the minions of Satan as a justification for their extermination.  Fortunately these Crow holocausts never work; the birds are just too clever and adaptable and no matter how many we kill they always come back.

Every once in a while, however, a Crow meets a bump in the road, and the Crow I saw today met his personal speed bump in an alligator lizard that he was trying to consume.  I was driving by the warm blooded cold blooded conflict in my Postal vehicle, and because I had cars behind me I couldn't stop to take a picture.  All the same, the millisecond snapshot I captured in my mind revealed a lot.

Alligator lizards are feisty little beasts and notorious biters. Any experienced amateur herpetologist schoolboy will approach the business end of this reptile with extreme caution.  The particular Elgaria multicarinata I caught a glimpse of day before yesterday was no exception.  He was a scaly package full of fierce teeth, all of which he bared defiantly upward in the Crow's direction.  For his own part, the Crow was trying to figure out a way to carefully work around those fearful fangs.  Since the alligator lizard was missing his tail, I am assuming the Crow had at least scored a mouthful of rump roast, but apparently was not completely satiated by this wriggling appetizer because he seemed determined to supplement that scaly cut of meat with some choice tenderloin from the lizard's flanks.

I don't know how the battle turned out.  If I had to bet, I would say that the lizard's teeth were too much for the Crow.  As I have mentioned before on this blog, Crows are the kings of easy pickings, and will gladly forsake a potential banquet that requires a substantial expenditure of energy for a meager diet plate that is an easy grab.  Dried mealworms handed out by my wife will do in a pinch, if the alternative is a chancy reptilian smorgasbord that means fighting around some nasty dental work.




Photo from Arachnodemon on:  http://www.arachnoboards.com/ab/showthread.php?35013-Southern-Alligator-Lizard

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My Life List #1 - Snow Goose

By Mel Carriere

Turns out my life list was wrong.  I wrote a previous post here about the Common Loon being the #2 bird on the list, but that bird should actually be #30.  I made this error because in the field guides the Loons are always first, but on the American Ornithologist Union (AOU) Checklist the Loons actually come after the Timamiformes, Anseriformes and Galliformes.  Therefore, since my own list conforms to the AOU guidelines I ask that the real occupant of first place please stand up - and this is the Snow Goose, Anser caerulescens.

I am happy to write about this bird, because it takes me off on happy birding trips with my family a long way from home, a long time ago.  My first encounter with the Snow Goose was in 1999, an excellent year for my list, because that was my first year birding and everything was new.  I actually made some totally Asperger's spreadsheet out of my life list, and the calculations there demonstrate that 1999 gave me 54.89% percent of my bird total as it currently stands.

More specifically it was 27 March, 1999 when my family visited Bosque Del Apache Wildlife Refuge in New Mexico on our way home from Albuquerque, where my Mother lived at the time and where I grew up.  More neckbeard stats - spreadsheet says that although Bosque Del Apache has contributed only .08 percent of my list, the state of New Mexico is responsible for 11.16% of the total, a distant second place from California, my home state, which has an almost insurmountable lead with 83.26 percent.

I remember it being sometime toward evening that we were driving the dirt roads in Bosque Del Apache that form little levees around the flooded fields where the birds are.  Spotting an enormous flock of geese to the North of the road I stopped the car and got out to have a peek.  I believe these birds must have been recently hunted because they were very skittish.  No sooner had I satisfied myself through my binoculars that these were Snow Geese then I was spotted and the entire spooked flock of at least a few hundred took flight in magnificent fashion.

The second time I saw Snow Geese was at Sony Bony NWR in the Imperial Valley, not far from here in San Diego.  Those birds were indeed being hunted; we could here the booming of shotguns all around us, and a park ranger actually stopped me to check that I wasn't one of the shooters.  Satisfied that I was armed with nothing but a pair of cheap binoculars he drove off to look for the real offenders, being concerned that these hunters had intruded onto the refuge.  I remember that my wife got some pretty good pics of these Snow Geese, and I may just look for them.

The snow goose is mysterious in its own way because it breeds in the far north above the Arctic Circle, which means that since this Goose has to spend 6 months out of the year travelling the birds I saw were undoubtedly on their way to the Arctic or on the way back. The Snow Goose reminds me of my own travelling, so apart from holding the prestigious #1 spot on my list it is dear to me because it brings to mind the truth that in order to refresh the body, mind, and spirit, one must migrate.

Photo from:  "Anser caerulescens CT8" by Cephas - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anser_caerulescens_CT8.jpg#/media/File:Anser_caerulescens_CT8.jpg

Fuzzy snow geese in the Imperial Valley are either by me or my wife.  I blame my wife.

Birds by Mel is powered for flight by copious amounts of shade grown, warbler friendly coffee, which unfortunately is very expensive.   I have nothing to do with ad selection here, but unless you find them completely annoying or offensive I would appreciate if you investigated what my sponsors have to say.

Gloomy Drought Thoughts - I Will Miss Scenes Like this Crow Among my Queen Palms

By Mel Carriere

I apologize that Birds by Mel was grounded for a few days - my wings were clipped by some sort of weird bug that got stuck in my crop and kept me snuggled in my roost as I recuperated.  Luckily I think my brain might have taken wing again; we'll see what happens as I forage along on my writing lawn, looking to pull out a tasty verbal grub or two to whet your appetite.

The drought has become serious business here in Southern California.  The Sierra snow pack is at 8 percent of normal and the Governor's shrill, constantly repeated mantra is "those days are over!  Do you enjoy a game of golf - Those days are over!  Do you like a dip in the swimming pool on a hot day - Those days are over!  Anything that involves aquatic fun is now over, per the Governor.  Do you take pleasure wiggling your tootsies in your cool green grass - Those days are over!  Yes, even that.

We here in California have been given a mandate that we have to reduce our water usage by 25% or else face dire consequences.  The almonds need to be watered, and we can't invest in desalinization plants on the coast to give us unlimited access to H2O because we really need that 60 billion dollar high speed rail through the Central Valley, even though it is mostly a depopulated desert now.

The city of San Diego, where I do not live, is apparently initiating a program where they will pay home owners $1.50 per square foot to replace their lawns with drought tolerant plants.  I imagine it will only be a matter of time before the city of Chula Vista, where I do live, follows suit.  And then, as the drought continues, sooner or later lawn removal will no longer be voluntary and the homeowner payments will, of course, cease as the funds dry up with the withering grass.

Therefore, I think it behooves me to get on board with the destruction of my front lawn sooner rather than later. I really enjoy looking at this little piece of God's green earth, even though the only time I actually wiggle my own tootsies within its soft, verdant blades is when I mow it every two weeks or so.  Most of the reason why I enjoy it is because of the feathered visitors I receive there regularly, such as this crow I found foraging among the Queen Palms this morning.  Crows are seen as morbid harbingers of death, as merciless raiders of birds nests, and as a general neighborhood nuisance whose raucous, dissonant  hawk scolding cries have put an end to many a pleasant afternoon nap, but I still like them.  Their alert eyes sparkle with intelligence and appear to be windows into a cunning, clever Corvid mind full of secrets and lore.

My wife likes crows too.  She has been trying to feed them lately with a bag of dried meal worms we have had in the pantry for a long time and that my oldest son has been threatening to eat as snacks.  Because he is eccentric enough to attempt it my wife has been desperately trying to get rid of them by offering them to the crows, but they just won't come when the dinner bell rings.  Despite the fact that they live in our yards and eat our excess food, the independence of these birds is fierce and legendary.

Anyhow, when I finally have to break out that spade and pick and rake and remove the grass I toiled so strenuously to plant I will miss crow visitations like the one I had this morning.  The bird you see above was generous above to pose for a picture or two as he scrounged for edibles in a lawn that is like a little green ocean, unruffled on the surface but full of life underneath.  The grass has been a little ecosystem all its own for about fifteen years, sustaining the Crows and Yellow-rumped Warblers that feast on its bounty, sometimes Pipits when the place was new and not so overgrown. It is hard to say, and sad to think about, whether the hard bitten desert flora that takes its place will provide an ecological climate capable of giving these same kind of pleasant avian visitations.


Photo is my own.  The Crow was very generous to cooperate, because I am always slow on the draw.

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Corvid vs. Corvid - Crow and Scrub Jay Battle for Bragging Rights

By Mel Carriere

There are two worlds that human beings live in, two worlds that are superimposed upon one another, or perhaps two layered worlds would be a better way to put it.  The top layer consists of the rather illusory technology-dominated society that Homo sapiens inhabits, and the other world is the "real" world dominated by living and competing organisms that struggle to survive.  

Sometimes humanity changes layers involuntarily, like when there is a major natural disaster or a war, or perhaps a zombie apocalypse, and in these cases the electrical grid, telephone systems, and all creature comforts disappear.  In such circumstances we humans revert back to our natural state and conduct ourselves according to the dictates of our rapacious animal nature, because we are no longer equipped to live in the layer that is subject to the cruel, capricious, merciless whims of nature.  At other times we willingly forsake the illusion of this technological "matrix" layer, eat the red pill and go off the grid because we choose to.  In these voluntary cases living in the natural layer can be peaceful, contemplative, and rewarding.

Then there are other times when we willingly oscillate back and forth between layers, or even exist in both at once.  When we make ourselves aware that both layers are superimposed upon one another the layering really ceases to exist and we can enjoy the comforts of civilization while at the same time appreciating the natural world.  Such happens to me when I am delivering the mail.  While keeping one eye on my scanner and the bar codes on the packages and the clock on my phone to make sure I am on time, with the other eye and with both ears I try to stay tuned to the world of birds around me.

The birds that inhabit the neighborhoods I deliver to have little, if any, technology to speak of.  They live completely in that separate, off the grid world where survival is a daily battle and one misstep or miscalculation means either death or reproductive failure.  

For example, I witnessed such a struggle today when a flash of brilliant blue drew a swoosh across my field of vision, which made me look up from the mail to see a Scrub Jay chasing a Crow out of its territory.  The Jay's harsh, non musical, raspy complaints were enough to indicate its severe displeasure.  After the suddenly meek, contrite, non threatening Crow had been driven back a safe distance the Scrub Jay went back into the thick foliage of a tree that I assume was in close proximity to its nest.

Earlier I had seen this same Crow loitering around this tree, perching itself upon a rooftop from where it kept tabs on the goings on at chez Scrub Jay.  I think it was waiting for the adults to disappear so it could trespass into the living room of its Corvidae cousin and help itself to an omelette, kind of like when your trashy trailer park cousins show up unannounced and raid your fridge, except that they are hopefully not eating your future children. 

The Jay was in no mood for hospitality and the Crow was not hungry enough to press the issue seriously.  I have noticed that Crows in particular are very economical in terms of the energy they expend feeding themselves.  The Crow was significantly larger than the Jay and could have kicked its butt in a fair fight, but it chose to look for easier pickings elsewhere.  "Pick your battles" seems to be the wise motto there in the natural layer.  Unlike Homo sapiens here in the matrix layer, Crows do not indiscriminately bomb their enemies for effect, leaving behind a mass of blood and dead bodies with nothing to show for it.

Birds by Mel is powered for flight by copious amounts of shade grown, warbler friendly coffee, which unfortunately is very expensive.   I have nothing to do with ad selection here, but unless you find them completely annoying or offensive I would appreciate if you investigated what my sponsors have to say.

Scrub Jay picture is from:  "Western Scrub Jay holding an Acorn at Waterfront Park in Portland, OR" by Original uploader was Msulis at en.wikipedia - Transferred from en.wikipedia; transferred to Commons by User:Common Good using CommonsHelper.. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.5 via Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Western_Scrub_Jay_holding_an_Acorn_at_Waterfront_Park_in_Portland,_OR.JPG#/media/File:Western_Scrub_Jay_holding_an_Acorn_at_Waterfront_Park_in_Portland,_OR.JPG

Are you a Bird Activist? Maybe it's Time for Birders to Give Something Back

By Mel Carriere

Birding can be a fun sport, if you want to call it a sport.  There are many definitions of the word "sport," some limiting the term to an athletic activity requiring physical prowess, and others delineating the concept much more broadly as a "diversion; recreation; pleasant pastime (Dictionary.com)."  I suppose if we use this latter meaning we could call anything a sport as long as it is a pleasant pastime.  Watching TV could be called a sport; even washing dishes if that is the way you release your stress.

While we let others quibble over semantics, I will cease my digression into verbal nonsense and go back to the immediate subject of birding as a sport.  The truth is, there are thousands of birders that treat birding as a sport, and there are massive birding competitions now among bird listing devotees who fiercely compete over who can compile the biggest list for any given day.  Even the Christmas bird count I participated in seemed to degenerate into a competition over which counting group could check off the coolest birds.  There I was, thinking it was more of a scientific endeavor to count the birds that were really out there, but it seemed like some of the counters were ignoring the flock of boring House Finches on yonder rooftop and crawling into the sagebrush to see if they could flush out a Bell's Vireo.

There is nothing wrong with friendly competition, but with a lot of birders I think obsessive listing sometimes becomes the end rather than the means.  When this happens the pure intellectual and spiritual contemplation that I think is the essence of birding sometimes gets lost.

I gained a new Twitter follower the other day named Becky who sort of grounded me in what birding really should be all about.  Becky's whole trip is trying to save birds from flying into windows.  She has a website dedicated to bird window deaths and she is very passionate about it.  I'm going to put a link to this site if I can find it again, because it always impresses me when someone loves something so much that they are willing to get out there and fight for that cause, even if others think it is silly or they don't think they have time for it.

Bird window deaths touch my heart as well, because I have encountered avians in peril from windows a few times.  One day last year, while delivering mail to an apartment complex I saw a beautiful White-crowned Sparrow that had crashed against a laundry room window and died.  The bird was still in pristine condition, almost as if it had just come from the taxidermist, so I know its demise had been very recent.  I had never seen one of these birds so closely and intimately and I had no idea how vivid and pure their colors really are.  It was a sad thing, indeed, that it took a death to instill in me a pure appreciation of this specie's beauty.

Another time while walking on a sidewalk next to an office building I stumbled upon two male Anna's hummingbirds locked in epic combat, an engagement that ended when one of them crashed into the building's window and fell immobile onto the sidewalk.  The victorious hummingbird was on the concrete next to it, breathing heavily and unable to move.  It was so exhausted I could have picked the winner up if I had chosen to, but I left nature alone.  When I went back around later both birds were gone, so I am hoping that the bird I assumed to be dead was merely stunned and was able to fly away.

Then while working security at a construction site I observed a Raven battling its own reflection in a window.  It was thrashing the glass so lustily that it actually drew blood and left feathers scattered beneath the pane.  I shooed the bird off and covered the offensive window with a piece of plywood before the Raven could do any more damage to itself.

These examples demonstrate that birds and windows don't mix.  Their avian minds cannot grasp the concept of a reflection, so they will fly into the spotless mirror panes of a tall building because they think the blue sky reflection is the actual blue sky, or they will fly into a laundry room window because they think the reflection of trees they see there are actual trees.

Meanwhile, a lot of birders, myself included, fail to take these avian deaths seriously because we are too busy flooding the Internet with bird pictures or madly checking off more birds than the other guy in big day birding competitions.  We use the birds for our own pleasure, and we spend millions of dollars globetrotting off to Indonesia to see how many of the 39 species of Birds of Paradise we can cross off the old list.  Meanwhile, how much are we giving to bird conservation efforts, and how much are we doing to prevent birds from flying into our laundry room windows?

I think it is time for all of us to give something back to the birds.  In addition to paycheck deductions, I am willing to give back 50% of what I get off this blog to bird conservation, including the fight against window deaths.  At present this is half of 23 cents, which means your continued visits to my site and your support of my sponsors will help.  So lift you head up from that silly list for a moment and look in the mirror to find a guy or gal who can help.  Don't beat yourself silly against that mirror thinking you have an intruder in the house; no need to go to that length of solidarity to show your support for the fight against avian window crashes.




This is the link to Becky's birds and windows blog.

The picture above is a crappy cell phone picture of a Mockingbird that belongs to me.  It is a bad picture, I will admit, but the barbed wire the bird is perched upon gives it a sinister, prison-like feel.  I did not take this from my jail cell window, however.  At present, both myself and the Mockingbird have still not been incarcerated.