Sparrows arrive. . . . . . . .

I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing

 in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance 

that I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.

-----------David Henry Thoreau

Morning in the late November garden. 
Sunshine . . . . . . . and eight sparrows swimming!

So many figs, and garden visitors. . . . . . . . . .

The large green bowl was overflowing after Bob gathered the ripe figs early
 yesterday afternoon.

He must have picked at least 4 pounds.

Thankfully he was done prior to torrential rain accompanied by scary thunder and

 lightning right overhead around 5 PM. Our power went out, and stayed out for about

 an hour apparently caused by downed trees.

Later I shared bowls of figs with two neighbors, one who stopped by to get them

 after the storm passed. We three sat on the front porch enjoying a drink and

 watching many birds at the feeder, while awaiting electricity so I could bake this

 for supper. . . . . . . 

 . . . . . . . caramelized onions, chopped Kalamata olives, sliced manchego cheese

 and the just-picked figs, layered on a flatbread crust and dusted with a

 touch of Sicilian dried oregano.

Enjoyed a slice of this along with a bowl of chilled cucumber gazpacho made earlier

 in the week - then frozen. First time trying that and have to say it worked perfectly,

 tasted fresh and of course was definitely well-chilled after thawing. I have frozen

 several bags of this summer soup and am glad to know it will be ready for more

 hot days ahead. . . . . . . . . without all the preparation. 

As for garden visitors, the birds still flock to the feeders and cardinals actually come 

in large groups, especially now the figs are ready for eating on the nearby tree - they

 love them!

I notice their colors are faded at this time of year compared to winter and spring. 

The male above is more orange than red now. . . . . . . and the female below also 

seems much paler.  

This is a young blue jay and his feathers are a paler blue than the adults.

 He's been coming to this birdbath early each morning for more than

 a week - just stands on the little rock looking out into the world, sipping a drink

 now and then. I can walk by and he stays there, sometimes for half an hour

 or so, not bothered by anything. Later in the day he returns - these pix I took in

 the afternoon - and stays a while, again drinking and cooling off.

Hope your weekend is special. . . . . . enjoy the magical moments, and may

they be abundant.

Birds and their offspring. . . . . . . .

The garden has been exceptionally busy these past few weeks - many new

 family members now learning the ropes regarding eating, bathing and doing

whatever parent birds teach their youngsters. We keep the feeders filled - not cheap

 by any means - however we love our birds. The birdbaths are cleaned and refilled for both

 the birds and squirrels during this hot weather, and to get rid of pesky mosquitoes.

Gray Catbird - Dumetella carolinenis

Handsome slate-gray bird with black crown and long, thin black bill. 

Often seen with tail lifted exposing a chestnut-colored patch, 

just visible here.

This young catbird is busy learning its way around my garden with
 a parent (male and female have same appearance) close at hand
 on the suet feeder.

A secretive bird, the catbird was named 'Bird That Cries With Grief' by

 the Chippewa Indians due to its raspy call.

Brown Thrasher - Toxostoma rufum

A baby Brown thrasher perched on a birdbath considering a drink or

 a dip perhaps. . . . . . . . 

. . . . . . . . while one parent watches from the bench. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . and the other checks out the food supply!

Again, male and female are identical, a little larger than the American robin,

 with streaked breast, rusty coloring, and yellow eyes. The male has the largest

 documented song repertoire of all North American birds with over 1,100 song types.

This pair have either two or three youngsters - lovely to watch them interact.

I actually parked myself in a chair - with a camera of course - on the back deck

 for a while yesterday morning to watch the busy birds and squirrels.

Guess what? Cute squirrel photos coming next time!

Swim buddies. . . . . . . .

An unusual pair at the swimming hole - the Brown Thrasher and the Eastern Bluebird.

Neither one appeared bothered by the other - don't you love it when people, animals

 and even birds get along together, sharing the same space, attending to their personal

needs, even singing a song whilst doing it.

This is a male bluebird but as the male and female thrashers are identical, 

I'm not sure if this is mixed bathing, or two of the boys getting squeaky clean to

 pursue their respective mates. 

It's that time of year again, the birds are definitely feeling romantic and are

 in nest-building mode.

Bob and I will soon be off on the water ourselves. 

The Mediterranean calls and we're looking forward to the trip

around Sicily and Malta.

My neighbors and family members who stop by will hopefully keep the

 bird baths topped up - with all that splashing the water level soon

drops and bathing becomes difficult for the larger birds.

Freshening up with the Eastern Bluebird. . . . . . . .

The birdbaths were cleaned and refilled by me before the rain arrived

 on Friday afternoon - then later they were topped up by nature in some

 really heavy downpours on and off during the night.

I love watching birds bathe, they seem to truly enjoy plunging in, flapping

 their wings, sitting on the rim for a few seconds then hopping back in and

 repeating their showering in wild abandon. Then it's up on a tree branch to

 dry off and preen those precious feathers. 

Some of our larger garden birds are real bathers, especially the American Robin

 and Brown Thrasher, in fact the robins will often show up as soon as they hear

 the water from the garden hose.

On this day, after I filled all the baths, who did I catch enjoying the waters?

  A little female Eastern Bluebird splashing merrily, then flying up to a branch

 looking rather damp and bedraggled, but probably feeling much cleaner.

Although I've yet to see bluebirds nest in the box on the potting shed wall

 (they apparently don't like that spot), I like to think she has a nest and a family

 hidden somewhere in my garden - I have seen her with her mate often - and 

perhaps on this particular afternoon was taking some much needed personal

 time to freshen up during her busy parental chores.

As long as there are bluebirds, there will be miracles and

 a way to find happiness ~ Shirl Brunnell 1934-2005 author of "I Hear Bluebirds"