#31: Graylag Goose

I guess this is another domesticated bird, but we have only seen them in far southern Arizona on a little lake we almost ran out of gas getting to one day in January 2007 - Parker Canyon Lake. I remember we also saw one our first Bald Eagles down there, and it was freezing cold. Here's what it looks like around there:



I thought it would be fun to draw this gray goose in mechanical pencil. But to be honest, maybe it's because I'm out of practice, it was slow going, and I got bored after a couple of hours. I abandoned my drawing and took it into Photobucket, just to spice things up. I have fun with that Photobucket Fresco tool.

#30: Carolina Wren

Again, I feel like I'm cheating my own goal, because I drew this quick little sketch last December as I was mulling over some ideas for graphic designs that only bird geeks would get. This one is of a Carolina Wren, which sings "Tea Kettle Tea Kettle Tea Kettle." Although if you ask me, it actually sings it backwards, "Kettle Tea Kettle Tea Kettle Tea..." I had all sorts of other ideas for designs based on what birds "say" when they call or sing - maybe I'll resurrect those ideas this year, who knows?

Anyway, the little Carolina Wren we have only seen in - gasp - North Carolina. Very cute little bird with the unmistakable wren-like stripe along the head. They always seemed very busy, twitching about on tree limbs upside down and every which way, foraging for bugs and gathering twigs for nests.

#29: Spotted Towhee

It's a new year. My self-help books tell me it doesn't do a bit of good to beat myself up for not sticking to my goal of drawing a bird a day, and that I should just put one foot forward best I can. So here is my 2012 offering: a Spotted Towhee.

Randy and I love it when one of these happens to take refuge in our yard, because they are so pretty with the glowing black head, tawny sides, and white streaks on the back. We usually get just one in our yard every fall, and it will hang out with us for several months off and on. It stands out amongst the flocks of smaller, drabber white-crowned sparrows and juncos that comprise our winter backyard bird commune, hiding furtively in the bushes, always sticking low to the ground and kicking up the gravel with its feet to find the last dregs of the birdseed we spread around back there.

Every now and then, maybe when it gets lonely, I don't know, it will flutter up to perch up high in our neighbor's mesquite tree and will offer a beautiful, intricate melody of warbling notes that would make anyone turn their head and gasp. But just as quickly, it will fly back down into the bushes. Maybe it decides it can't compete with the noise of the freeway in the distance. Or maybe it decides its better to keep its secret stash of Forrest backyard birdseed to itself.