Slowly building my life list
I’ve been meaning to get off a quick post here to finish out 2024, but holiday madness took over, and here we are in 2025 already. Let me start us off then with a little video greeting — I purchased myself some new equipment over the winter break, and hopefully now it will be much easier to incorporate quality video and sound content into this ongoing personal exploration of birds (and books).
I promise I will learn on the job and get much better at framing shots, and not running out of battery power in crucial moments. Still, for a quick first attempt at shooting and editing video, I think this went well. Enjoy.
Hey, look at that. There’s my dog, Birdy, in the lower right on that opening shot. She’s so constantly my companion, I didn’t even notice her there until now.
I’m realizing I promised you that Whimbrel Point is beautiful, and then all you saw was most of me in the cold. Here are a few shots from the last three years:
The point from a distance, with two birders standing by the Fred Bodsworth bench.
Early morning at the point.
The view from beside the directional pole.
There is often a gull perched atop the pole. This here is a Ring-billed (Larus delawarensis).
And here are a few shots of the birds I saw in the last couple of months. I took a very brief work trip to Guadalajara, Mexico for their world famous book fair, and then was off to the Puget Sounds near Seattle for a week of family holiday fun.
An Inca Dove (Columbina inca) in a park fountain in Guadalajara, Mexico.
One of many Great-tailed Grackles (Quiscalus mexicanus) keeping Guadalajara noisy.
This Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) may just have dropped this tree by now. Gig Harbor, Washington.
Early morning Anna’s Hummingbird (Calypte anna). Gig Harbor, Washington.
“The odd survivor still flies the long and perilous migration from the wintering grounds of Argentine’s Patagonia, to seek a mate of its kind on the sodden tundra plains which slope to the arctic sea. But the arctic is vast. Usually they seek in vain. The last of a dying race, they now fly alone.”
from The Last of the Curlews, by Fred Bodsworth