field notes

Truth in Strength and Beauty of Starlings

Child’s eyes overwhelmed and absorbed. Profound enchantment. Murmurations of Starlings are one of nature’s incredible performances.

A symphonic waltz of flocks made up by a despised birds. Charitably described as Shakespearean pestilence, they are aggressive. Starlings raid food sources, nests and habitats of so many beloved birds.

In breeding season their iridescent feathers sleak, stunning. Colors and forms all harmonized tastefully exposing the peacock as gaudy second rate showman. I am conflicted.

One of the more soothing field entries I have made this year

I wonder. I don’t know. It’s hard to say. Finding inspiration in pestilence to see the other side of a pandemic. Can waltzing with Starlings help pull us through indefinite isolation? Is there a path hidden in their persistent survival for us to stay safe, healthy and whole? Watch for the Starlings. Find inspiration everywhere we can.

birds, sketchbook

The Cardinals Call

Present with a pair of Cardinals reveals the possibility of a serene existence. A mistake to focus on the male. It is the unit. Their vocabulary of calls and songs swell the space around me. I’m trapped in a narrow footpath by overgrown bushes. Male and female a complimentary palette fly through and across the footpath. One after the other. The other then leads again.

Relaxed, alert. Male and female. Cardinals offer opportunity for deep study aside from the color red.

Home. I think about that walk last month. Barber shops closed. I take a pair of shears and clippers to my head. Not exactly a Cardinal’s crest but groomed.

What is my song? “Chunky monkey for dinner again? I admit to the premeditated crime.” Those aren’t the lyrics or the title. There is a song. One I forgot was mine when I realized I could no longer sing.

Journaling nearly everything I know and can associate with Cardinals

The pair of Cardinals continue their dance thriving in and out of the dense bushes. Their songs live independent of their surroundings. Nothing will contain their calls. Why do I allow anything to contain mine?

We have a song. Inside or outside. The old world or this new one. I will remember my song.

birds, sketchbook, studies, Uncategorized

Nuthatch Troubles

Hyperactive popping. Tiny clinging birds hanging upside down over a tree hollow. They can’t, won’t sit still. The White-breasted Nuthatch is a fun bird to watch, challenging to draw well.

The pair of birds were one of my first sightings since I decided to level up my bird nerd status. This deep dive into bird watching inspired by the hidden footpaths of our little neighborhood sanctuary, Radburn park.

Field journal entries are now a diary of lamentations, hidden joys, accompanied by notes

Radburn Park is still accessible but plans have been turned on their head. Leaving our homes freely and frequently in Northern New Jersey has been discouraged. I won’t be taking the short walk to our park several times every week.

The Sunday stroll is now more golden. I look for ways to extend them throughout the week. Reading birding guides and visiting bird nerd websites like that of Cornell’s orinthology project. I sharpen my pen and ink work sketching landscapes, houses and stone bridges like the one found in the park.

Some of the many sketches to capture the Nuthatch’s energy and mapping feather patterns
The White-breasted Nuthatch’s favorite way to hang out is upside-down

And I obsess over a little bird that won’t sit still for a second. Frustrates my drawing hand with a nape and crown that blend into one narrow shape. I suffer over these sketches and couldn’t be happier.