On Noticing Nature

I did spend some time outdoors today, but the gusty wind that burned my face kept many critters out of sight, and the recent snow covered other potentially interesting sights.  I still said 'hi' to the crow eating a tasty tidbit on one corner and to the Eurasian-collared dove hunkered down in a tree.  I did not spot any new species to blog about.  I went home to continue reading a library book that I am enjoying, The Desert Year by Joseph Wood Krutch. 

Mr. Krutch eloquently describes just what I am attempting to do with my blog, that is, pay attention to the natural world that we can easily walk (or more likely drive) right past. So, while I didn't notice anything new today, I did happily watch a northern flicker visit my suet feeder and enjoyed the strong, sure movements of his long beak and the way the sunlight shone on his colorful plumage. 

Krutch writes: "My own homely technique when I walk out in my own country and realize that I am in danger of seeing nothing at all is simply to greet each thing as it comes along, by name if I know it...usually, if the thing is not too common, I stop a moment to pass the time of day with it, much as one does with an acquaintance met on the street. 'A nice day--for frogs,' I may remark pleasantly; or, perhaps, 'I don't think I've seen you since last summer.'  The plants and animals to whom I issue such bits of conversational small change are not any more interested or impressed than the people to whom one says the same things, but neither are they much less so.  And in both cases the purpose achieved is much the same.  I have noticed them; sometimes they have noticed me; and I am reminded of something which a certain kind of person is rather prone to forget--that there are other creatures in the world beside himself."

So I am not the only person crazy enough to say, "Hello, Mr. Chickadee," or to thank the trees for their help when I grab onto them for balance.  I am not the first to be excited by visits from the local white-breasted nuthatch.  And, I am probably not the only one to take photos of the city birds that most people usually ignore.

But, look at them, all lined up.  Some are bunched together like cuddling friends, while other retain their personal space.  And the one closest to me has his neck extended to check me out just like I am watching him.  To me that's a good photo.  And, like Krutch says, "In nature, one never really sees a thing for the first time until one has seen it for the fiftieth."  There still might be things to observe about the ubiquitous house sparrow.  Who knows?