#39: Common Nighthawk

Nighthawks are common sights around metro Phoenix. When I play tennis at night, they sweep back and forth over the lights, fluttering like bats, feasting on insects and apparently showing off their white wingbars, according to this adorable legend from the Blackfeet Indians.

Because I normally don’t see Nighthawks except when they’re flying at night, it was a total surprise to stumble across a pair of them along a suburban wash one morning. It was July, hot. Extremely hot. The two of them had been sitting in the gravel just off the sidewalk. They quickly flew away to the other side of the wash, exposing their tell-tale bars on their wings.

Safely far away from me across the wash, they both settled down in the gravel about a foot away from one another. One of them had a really puffy white patch under the throat. If I hadn't seen the white wing bars, I might've wondered if it was a different bird I wasn't familiar with. When I got home, I investigated and found out that the puffed-out throat is something the male does in courtship.

So, I stumbled across two lovers. I probably woke them up after a long night of passion, and they were just trying to catch some Z’s.

#38 Acorn Woodpecker

Wow, how long has it been?

I'm surprised I didn't delete this blog. I've had such a hard time even looking at birds for the past few years, let alone draw them. But, I guess I must be getting over my guilt and grief, because I'm starting to notice the birds a lot more now. In fact, I'm wondering if the Universe isn't perhaps sending me messages with them.

This pair of Acorn Woodpeckers is the first case in point (and there are more). I saw them just the other evening while I was playing tennis with a friend in Sun Lakes, AZ.

First I heard them: an unmistakable goofy kind of gurgling sound, like childish sniggering. Then, I saw them, clinging to the sides of a pine tree. I had to stop playing so I could get closer to make sure they were really Acorn Woodpeckers, because I've only ever seen them in the cooler, mountainous pine trees. What were they doing, hanging out in the middle of the desert on a 110-degree July evening?

"Are you lost, sweeties?" I asked them.

They stopped chatting and aimed their clown-face eyes at me as if to say, "No, this our home."

Who’d have thought? Two funky, unique birds making this hot desert oasis their home when they should be hanging out in the cool pines. What kind of message is the universe sending me?

Some believe woodpeckers tell you to pay attention to the details of your home, and to inspect things before you settle down for the night or decide to buy a new place.

With these two non-local birds, I wonder if it's not a message that I still belong here in the desert and can even make it my home, even though I've been wondering if I shouldn't move now that my mom is gone.

Perhaps it's simply a message of acclimation. I'm going through another painful adjustment phase, but I can do it. It's possible to adapt and survive. I might even have some fun in the process.

Bird shamanism.