#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.

#37: Gambel's Quail

A huge (for me) 30"x40" canvas in acrylics I did for my mom. Because she wanted a quail. And she consented to my somewhat colorful, abstract vision.

The Gambel's Quail could almost be Arizona's state bird. Which it is not (the Cactus Wren gets that honor). But they are everywhere. It's another one of those desert birds that are so common that 95% of the population here do not even take notice of them anymore, as the males dart out in front of our cars onto the road, then hurriedly usher their covey back to the safety of the sidewalk, their black hairpieces bobbing in indignation.

I wrote a poem about the Gambel's quail once upon a time. Something about how overdressed they are for a life of scratching about in the desert sand for food. But I can't for the life of me find that poem. Probably just as well! There is only so much of my creativity I should be shoving out into the world, after all.

#36: Gulls

A 4-panel mixed-media seagull montage. On 12x16 canvas panels I had prepped a long time back with the background in acrylics and oils. I finally finished them tonight (as I was watching the Oscars) by sketching on them with oil-based Sharpie paint markers I found on sale at Home Depot.

I have no idea anymore what type of gulls these are supposed to be, as I was using a sketch of a photograph I've since lost. They were probably Bonaparte Gulls from California. There are few things more beautiful in this world than a flock of seagulls taking off in a flurry of white from a wet beach into the blue sky.

Initial drafts, p1-6

Although I have the plot all written out, I haven't gotten terribly far in painting the plates for my children's book. Maybe if I post a few of my initial drafts, it will inspire me to work on it some more.

My thought is to start off in faded colors, moving to more vivid, bleeding colors as the story progresses. Although I do plan to paint pages 1-2, these are the pencil sketches in my little notebook I'm starting from.

Another "Bird Jar" - for children

Last week, I came across something I wrote almost ten years ago about an idea for a children’s book, involving hummingbirds and desert trees. The story idea was to illustrate "the beauty of new enthusiasm."

I laughed. I am the QUEEN of "new enthusiasms." How many hobbies have I picked up over the years, all gung-ho at first, and then they peter out. How many "identities" have I tried on and then ripped back off?

But then I thought about it some more, and the idea took hold of me.

New enthusiasm... It IS beautiful. And tenuous. Fragile. And, by its very nature, fleeting. When we come across it, we should embrace it, celebrate it, support it! Because it won’t be around for long. But what happens, what we frequently do, is poo-poo it. Criticize it. Shame it. Make fun of it. Or fear it. We are denied (or deny ourselves) the pleasure of having it around for that little bit it will be there. And when it is squelched into a premature death like that, there is little chance of lasting beauty to be produced from it.

So, about a hundred hummingbird sketches later, I think I have my "characters." I have the plot. I even have the dialogue. Now it's time to hammer it out. And hope that this will maybe become more than just one more passing "enthusiasm" with nothing to show for it!

#35: Say's Phoebe

Another one from the archives... soft pastels on canvas board from 2012.

If you are walking along a warm, sunny sidewalk or golf course in Phoenix, and you happen to hear a soft, yet insistent Peeeep... Peeep... Peeeeeep!... look up. Most likely, you will see a small, brownish bird perched on a phone wire, a wall, a fencepost or a branch nearby, bobbing its long, narrow tail downward and twitching its head at you inquisitively. It might flutter up into the air and show off a few acrobatics as it catches flying insects in its thin little beak before descending gracefully back to its perch.

This is a Say’s Phoebe.

Sibley’s says the Say's Phoebe is one of the "Tyrant Flycatchers," which makes me picture it wielding a staff in one claw, shaking it menacingly and telling all the other birds what to do. But there doesn’t seem to be anything tyrannical about them. In fact, entire families hang out next to my office in busy Scottsdale, placidly feeding their babies and picnicking serenely. They don't seem to care one bit that they are surrounded by a vortex of noisy machinery, blaring loudspeakers and gunning engines. I guess there is peace to be found anywhere.

#34: Black Crowned Night Heron

Here's an oldie but goodie. This is a Black-Crowned Night Heron in colored pencil on black card stock. I drew this in 2007, at the beginning of our birdwatching adventures.

Black Crowned Night Herons are pretty easy to find around the Phoenix area. They nest in the trees around the ponds at the Gilbert Water Ranch, and you can also find them in the Nature Conservancy park right next to downtown Phoenix.

I really love the colors on these big shorebirds, along with that elegant tuft wafting from the tops of their heads. But the best thing about BCNH's is the noise they make. They're nicknamed "sea dogs" because of the loud barking noise they make when you startle them and they fly off.

#33 : Northern Cardinal

Well, well, well... look what we have here.

Coming out of nowhere like the musical notes of a bright red Northern Cardinal buried in the bushes, a POST to the long-stagnant bird jar!

Life, messy icky life, got in the way for the past couple years. I actually have been doing quite a bit of drawing all this time. Mostly life drawing and portraits (for which I started another blog). But a few birds now and again.

Re-opening the Bird Jar is an emotional test for me, now that it's been over a year and I am no longer married to my birdwatching partner. Birding was OUR THING. The birds are so intricately tied in my mind with our life together. Do I even have a right to continue to watch, let alone draw, them? I don't know. I feel guilty and weepy when I try to do either. Just pulling up this pastel piece of a male Northern Cardinal, in fact, makes me cry because it used to hang in my husband's classroom. He left it, without a word, on the seat of my car when we split up.

Maybe I just need to learn how to re-claim my birding as well as my drawing. If I start drawing them again, maybe I will build up enough courage to raise my head and start looking at the birds some day. But for now, I will dig up some of my old drawings I've done and post them here. Baby steps.

#32: Western Tanager

I caught a glimpse of this summer bird just this past Saturday afternoon, as I was standing in the kitchen chatting with my husband and a friend of his who is heading off to Colombia to teach for a couple of years. I saw it alight near our water fountain, and I gasped, trying to get Randy's attention. I pointed and motioned, "It's a... it's a..." I couldn't think of what it was called. My birding skills have gotten so rusty! Both Randy and our guest managed to see it before it flew off, probably heading to the cooler pines up north. It's so rare that we get to see these beautifully-colored birds in the city. I'm taking it as a good luck sign of beautiful things to come. (Ink with Graphitint & inktense wash, manipulated in photobucket)

#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.

#28 - Pileated Woodpecker

Back to it. Here is a crazy, joker-faced Pileated Woodpecker, done with my latest toys - water soluble oil pastels - on a thick gray sheet of mi tientes paper.

We have only seen these huge birds in North Carolina around my sister's place on the coast. They are loud and destructive, but look how cool they are with that mask! They are apparently the largest woodpecker in North America. I guess you might get p.o.'d at them if they were digging holes in your nice tall trees around your home, but I don't think I could do anything but stare at them in amazement.

If you have never heard one, click here for great audio courtesy of Cornell Ornithography Lab.

#27: Royal Terns

I've been a pen-and-ink mode lately, so here are some quick pen sketches of the Royal Tern.



We saw these in North Carolina, all over the coast, cruising over the water, plunge-diving down into it to catch fish, and hanging out in big groups on pier posts, always managing to look like they were fighting a strong gale as they were just sitting there. They have deep reddish-orange bills, and that black cap only extends all across the forehead when they are in breeding mode, so says Sibley's.

I can't think of anything more enlightening to say about these birds. Just glad I got at least 2 outta the jar this month! :-)

#26: Vermillion Flycatcher

The perfect bird for Valentine's Day today...



This was the very first bird Randy and I saw together that started our whole birdwatching fascination. He was sitting way up high in a mesquite tree near the Salt River where we had gone camping. We didn't have any bino's at the time, or even a good camera - just a little point-and-shoot. Randy snapped a shot of him and we ooooed and ahhhhed at it when he zoomed in on the viewfinder. We called it "Red Bird" for a long time until we finally dug out an old copy of Sibley's and figured out what he was really called.

I tried to capture the male's deep red breast in my colored pencil drawing, done on vellum, but it's nowhere near as amazing as when you see them out in nature, perched up on a limb against a crystal clear blue sky, fluttering down every now and then to snap up a little bug in the air. They absolutely glow, and the females, which are more pink than red, are beautiful too. Thank you, Valentine, for this picture, and for everything.

#25: Montezuma Quail

This morning when Randy saw this, he told me he thought I had definitely "stepped up my game" from my last post. I had intended to try Mr. Yellowlegs in colored pencil, but after scrapping three pages, decided it was just time to move on to a new bird. Sorry, Yellowlegs, you have lost out to a much more colorful bird, the male Montezuma Quail, which is here in Prismacolor pencils on 8.5x11 sketch paper.

My bird book says that this rare bird, which is only found in Mexico, parts of Arizona, New Mexico and Texas, is "very secretive and difficult to see." I think this must be true, because the one and only time we have seen one was when it was slowly crossing a dirt road up in the Chiricahua mountains near Portal. Key word: SLOWLY. It was like a slow-motion fat little balloon inching its way across the road and on into the rocky grasses along the side. When Randy spotted it, he darn near skidded to a sudden stop, and we got out of the car slowly and quietly so we could watch it. It's a big thing to see one of these. People at our little B&B were excited when we told them. Some people visit the Chiricahuas JUST to try to spot a Montezuma Quail. Ahh, the birding world. It's got its quirks, but it is a fun world, nonetheless.

#24 Yellowlegs rev 1.1

I'm going to call this one: Running Out of Paper and Time.



I started it a couple of days ago and haven't felt like sitting back down to fix it, or start over (which is what I absolutely must do, given the grave miscalculation in subject size to paper size. I mean, I ran out of space EVERYWHERE on this!).

For me, Yellowlegs rank among the more interesting shore birds, because they, at least, tend to stick out with those crazy yellow stilts for legs. I'll give it another shot in colored pencil, maybe that will inspire me to do a serious rendition.

#23: Black-Tailed Gnatcatcher

I decided to draw this on an ATC, Art Trading Card, which means it's all of 2.5" x 3.5"



I also drew it in really poor lighting, so let that be a lesson to me going forward. Anyway, gnatcatchers seem industrious and quirky to me. I love the buzzy whistling noise they make in the palo verde trees around here. I hardly ever know if I'm seeing a blue-gray gnatcatcher or a black-tailed gnatcatcher, and to prove that point, I was supposed to have drawn a blue-gray gnatcatcher and selected this picture, only to realize later, thanks to Randy re-examining things, that it is a black-tailed.

#22: Brown Creeper

First of all, a humble thank you to the sweet people who kept checking in on this half-neglected blog and sent me encouragement throughout the year. I think I'll lower my sights a bit this coming year, and maybe try to squeeze in a bird a week, or perhaps 2 a month.

Here is 2010's final posting: the appropriately-named Brown Creeper. These nimble little things are such fun to watch as they literally creep up and down the trees, perfectly camouflaged so that they almost look like little pieces of bark jerkily cascading along the trunks. They tend to be solo, making them even more difficult to spot. We've seen them mostly in southern Arizona, around Ramsey Canyon and Patagonia Lake, but Randy actually took this picture of one at Boyce Thompson Arboretum in Superior this past March. A nice, fun little bird to wrap up the first year of the Bird Jar. This is mechanical pencil on 8x10 sketch paper.

#21: Costas Hummingbird

It felt good just to hold a pencil again. Maybe I'll get back into this in 2011. On sketch paper, about 5"x5"

We are good friends with the Costas Hummingbird, as we always have at least one at our feeder all throughout the year, even though some people tell us it's impossible that they should stick around hot Phoenix all year-round. But they do, at least in our backyard Karob tree, and Randy always calls them "Bob" for Bob Costas, of course. The guys are gorgeous when the sunlight hits their bright purple handlebar mustache, and they are pretty territorial about the juice in that feeder, let me tell you. Fun to watch.