Sept 19: The Bird Log

Late summer birdie friends

High in the Sandia mountains, not far from the Crest Road, there’s a log that’s been split in half lengthwise and hollowed out; it’s widely known as “the bird log.” A pump, protected by a chain link fence, drips water into it from above, and — when human visitors are still and quiet (or, better yet, not there at all) — many different birds come by to take baths in it.¹ I like the bird log because there’s a relatively comfortable rock I can sit on while I wait for the birds to come to me. It’s so much easier than most photography.

A few weeks ago I heard that red crossbills had been seen there so I packed up my bird lens and went up to take a look. I was in luck: I saw not only a male (above) but a female as well (below). They seem to always swoop in very quickly as a group, then swoop out just as fast. The light background behind the female, by the way, is the bird log itself.

I’m a fairly harsh critic of my own photography, which means the photo below would normally be too blurry for me to share. But the little hop the male crossbill made on the edge of the bird log was so cute that I couldn’t resist.

I sat around and waited, holding that big, heavy lens up to my head the entire time. I learned long ago that any sudden movement on my part will send the birds flying much faster than I can press the shutter button. My patience was rewarded when all of a sudden what was either a hairy or downy woodpecker lit upon the branch below — for all of about 15 seconds.² I fired a burst of shots and then it was gone.

The highlight of my visit was when a northern flicker showed up. I watched him high in a tree for quite a while, and even got a few shots of him there. He finally flew down to a stump just on the other side of the bird log.

I took a few shots, and then he suddenly vanished from view. I wasn’t sure where he’d gone but guessed he’d dropped down into the bird log.³ I didn’t want to move to confirm my suspicion — flickers are notoriously shy — so I continued to sit there silently, waiting to see if he’d reappear.

After what seemed like a very long time, at least 10 or 15 minutes, but which was only three minutes in reality, he hopped back up onto his perch, obviously fresh from a bath.

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About last week’s mystery flower …

Many thanks to those of you who took a stab at identifying last week’s mystery flower. I now feel reasonably sure it’s Saponaria officinalis, aka bouncing-bet, bouncing betty, common soapwort, and/or goodbye summer. (What great names!)

Thank you again for your time and effort.

1. Turns out still and quiet is an extraordinarily big ask for humans.

2. I am really not sure which kind of woodpecker this is. As always, please treat my IDs with a substantial degree of skepticism.

3. My comfy rock at the bird log doesn’t allow me to actually see into it.