Tag Archives: Flickr

Corsons Inlet early August afternoon

Gulls at Corson's Inlet

Gulls at Corsons Inlet, Ocean City, August 7.

terns ocean city

Common terns? and a couple of kids.

Corson’s Inlet State Park is located at the southern end of the island and city of Ocean City.

More photos on Flickr: Birds at Corsons Inlet.


A graceful, black-and-white waterbird, the Common Tern is the most widespread tern in North America. It can be seen plunging from the air into water to catch small fish along rivers, lakes, and oceans.

laughing gull

Swirling over beaches with strident calls and a distinctive, crisp black head, Laughing Gulls provide sights and sounds evocative of summer on the East Coast.

The birds of (winter storm) Iola

Northern Cardinal

And it snowed and it snowed yesterday.

Blue Jay

I cleared railings and feeders every hour or two, fed the birds all day, and took a few pictures through glass too.

Flickr photo album: Winter Storm Iola and feeders

The Snow-Storm
by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden’s end.
The steed and traveler stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come see the north wind’s masonry
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer’s lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer’s sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structure, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind’s night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.


When you wish upon a bird


A chickadee flew into the sliding glass door yesterday (even though I have reflective snowflake decals on it). It lay on its back in the snow, feet in the air, motionless, beak agape. I was standing in front of the door when it happened, camera in hand.

I went outside and picked it up.


I had my camera because I was taking pictures of bluebirds. See Flickr album: 8 Bluebirds One Saturday. What are the odds?

The chickadee was all in one piece, feathers intact and smooth. It revived pretty quickly.


But it stayed in my hand. For a long time!

Holding a warm soft perfect little wild bird feels good. The feeling runs from your hand up your arm into some center place of your being.


But I can’t stand out here forever, holding a bird.

I walked over to the porch rail and rested my hand there until the chickadee hopped off. It just sat there for a while looking at me, cocking its head from one side to the other while I talked to it (“see, you’re okay, all better, be careful of the glass” etc) like the crazy bird lady I am apparently becoming.

“But you’re our crazy bird lady,” said a friend on Facebook when I posted the photos and spread the bird wonder a little further out into the world.


I’m your crazy bird lady

“How is this happening??” commented another friend who probably saw a photo of a downy woodpecker in my hand recently too.


Dec. 4, a bowl of soup and a woodpecker

Well, it all started… back in May near the beginning of this blog… with a wish. I wished to be closer to birds. I wished they would hold still enough for me to take good pictures of them to share.

Bang! Grackle grants wish instantly.


(Hey, I was wearing the same shirt as on the chickadee day, L.L.Bean Scotch plaid flannel shirt in “Black Stewart.”)

The feeders are located where they need to be for viewing and attaching. And I have decals on all the windows now. Sorry for the headaches, birds, but I’m glad you’ve only been stunned not killed.

It was just on December 7 that I wrote, of chickadees: I won’t be surprised if one lands on my shoulder or head someday while I’m near the feeders. Even better: chickadee in my hand.

Hm, let’s try this: I wish for a million dollars! I won’t be surprised if I buy a lottery ticket and win a million dollars! And I’ll give half of it to a bird charity!

I started Project Feederwatch today.