He and she: A male American Goldfinch, at left, pauses at our feeder with a female on the next perch.
WE’RE BOMBARDED WITH GOLDFINCHES on this Mother’s Day on Center Island. And that’s not a bad thing.
After a shared “virtual brunch” with daughter Lillian — Barbara and I on our sunny San Juans deck, Lil aboard our sailboat in Seattle — we’ve spent much of the day sitting outside. We’ve been reading, working crosswords, sipping iced coffee or mineral water, soaking up the warmest day of our year so far, with the thermometer peaking at a pretty perfect 77 degrees F. It rarely gets warmer here.
We’re surrounded by a choir of bird song and a constant rush back and forth to our feeders, with the flippity-flip of songbirds’ wings complementing the mad buzzing of hummingbirds. I have my Sibley’s Field Guide to Birds of Western North America next to me, striving to identify newcomers by sight or sound. (It just helped me be sure that a female goldfinch wasn’t a pine grosbeak, for example.)
Barbara is now happily baking buns for a barbecue, after watching the dough rise robustly in the outdoor sun.
Happy day to all mothers, human and avian.
“What are you lookin’ at, buddy?”