Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
I wouldn’t describe flickers as quiet birds though it seemed so relative to the pairs of wrens and thrashers and Gila woodpeckers that were making a ruckus around him on a winter’s morning. As I watched him watch the others he reminded me of a driver atop a massive vehicle and I wished the saguaros could slowly shuffle across the desert, so that where you found the old giants would depend on where the birds last parked them.
Taken a week before the other image of this face in the moss, this time during a cold snap that gave the moss a frosted look in the minutes before the sun began to warm the desert floor. I’ve been meaning to look for it again when passing on more recent hikes, to see if the moss has grown enough to cover the eyes and mouth, but I keep forgetting when I’m in the area (today included).
After a month of ownership the Lexus tipped past the 1000 mile mark on the way home from work yesterday. Life is different here, there were occasional times in Portland that would have been a year’s driving for me (most years I drove double or triple that). I upgraded the car for several reasons but I hoped to improve my fuel economy in the process, which was harder than it sounds as my Subaru was getting 32 MPG (about 30.5 in the summer). I expected the little hybrid to beat that but I wasn’t sure by how much given the nature of my commute, but thankfully it’s improved my fuel economy by about a third. This picture is from Saturday, we got heavy rains in the morning but it began to clear in the afternoon so I paid a quick visit to a little city park near our house I hadn’t visited yet, George “Doc” Cavalliere Park.
How lucky am I that the bird I most hoped to see when we moved to Arizona, I get to see every day. Sometimes rather close.
When I think of flower stalks I think of the delicate stems of the wildflowers I’d see on hikes through most of my life, like daisies or columbine or fairly slippers. The soaptree yucca, on the other hand, has a towering stalk that’s thick at the base like a tree limb before tapering into thin branches at the top. Even so it is a testament to how impossibly light birds are that this bedraggled thrasher only slightly depressed its perch as it sang on a sunny winter morning.
I’ve posted a similar picture of Boo before and while this one is from Christmas Eve I could have taken many more like it, as since the fall our sometimes snuggler has been my constant companion. Sometimes sleeping on my legs or behind my head, his favorite is to wedge himself in tight between me and the edge of the couch, where he sleeps now. He’s always changed his sleeping positions over time, and I suspect when the long Phoenix winter relents and releases its icy grip he will return to more southerly regions, with their view from Boo Boxes of backyard birds and the mountains beyond. Until then I’ll enjoy every minute with our philosopher goofball, even if it makes for a crowded couch when all three cats come calling.
The wash wasn’t running. Neither was the car.
Boolie 