Today was a two-deer day — in the sense that I saw two species of deer within one day.
This is a buck of the Mule Deer. Its antlers are in velvet.

And this is the fawn of a White-tailed Deer standing by the flank of its mother.

Today was a two-deer day — in the sense that I saw two species of deer within one day.
This is a buck of the Mule Deer. Its antlers are in velvet.

And this is the fawn of a White-tailed Deer standing by the flank of its mother.

This Snowshoe Hare has a red pin through its ear — clearly, it is a harepin.
Subscribers will be aware that I delight in having a hare in residence. When I saw yesterday’s lad, I initially assumed that it was my hare in residence. Apparently, not. That this particular hare is not actually my regular visitor is evident from the red pin in its ear — something not seen around the yard before.
Yet, this does raise an interesting question: Who is tagging local snowshoe hares? And why are they doing so?
A Snowshoe Hare in my yard bears a red pin through its ear. Why?

When a Song Sparrow chases a Mayfly, the match is uneven — the bird will win.
A tenth of a second later, the bug had been captured and swallowed.

Yesterday was a two-lagomorph day.
Lagomorphs are an order that includes hares, rabbits and the pikas. The rabbit is not found here, but we do have the snowshoe hare and the American pika. Neither is seen often, so how likely is it to see both the same day?
The pika is usually found in subalpine talus — which is where this one appeared.
A snowshoe hare was feeding on forbs when it bolted, thus showing its signature hind legs.

There is something unsettling about seeing a bird on a wire — possibly this arises from the juxtaposition of wild and processed.
The memorable line, like a bird on a wire, came from Lenard Cohen. In the 1960s, he was living on the Greek island of Hydra when the beginning of electrical distribution resulted in a disturbing sight: Birds began to perch on the newly installed wires. This shift in the landscape prompted his iconic song about the freedom to choose. From the bird’s point of view, a wire was just another available perch, which was maybe what Cohen was getting at when he wrote:
Like a bird on the wire … I have tried in my way to be free.
In his song, Cohen used like as a comparative. However, I use it as a verb when I say: On balance, I don’t “like a bird on a wire”.
All of which makes the line ambiguous. Four birds on wires follow.
Mountain Bluebird

Tree Swallow

Rough-winged Swallow

Common Yellowthroat

It is difficult to take any good picture of a loon on this lake, let alone a frontal portrait:
• Loons need clear water to spot prey, so they avoid humans, who typically befoul waterways.
• Loons seem to prefer the larger fish found in deep water, so don’t often approach the shore, from which vantage, pictures are easily taken.
• The high contrast of the loon’s plumage presents exposure problems.
• The common practice of waterbirds is to view potential predators sideways rather than head on. This limits the opportunities for frontal portraiture.
• To top this off, the striking red eye of the summer loon is not apparent from every angle.
• All of these problems are exacerbated on Kootenay Lake, because loons do not choose to breed along its shores owing to the variation in water level.
• Strikingly, I have been much closer to grizzly bears than I have been to loons.
I was reminded of these issues while searching for a portrait of a loon to include in the posting, Canadian life, and only found a somewhat acceptable one. The odd thing is that one day after that posting, I managed better portraits when two loons did swim close to the shore.
Two loons offer simultaneous frontal and profile views, even including red eyes. To view the full width of the picture, the cursor must be moved to various places across the frame. (A mobile device uses a tap.)
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A Snowshoe Hare has occasionally visited over the last few months. When first seen, it had already started its transition from the white of winter to the brown of summer. The transition progressed slowly. Three days ago, I saw it in its summer pillage.
The resident Snowshoe Hare stopped by to feed on forbs.

Today — July 1st, 2017 — marks the sesquicentenary of the creation of Canada as a nation.
My two-dozen mute portraits offer peeks into the charm and beauty of life in Canada.
























Each year, I try to watch flicker parents flying in to feed their chicks. This year, a Merlin has intimidated our local flickers, so I had to go along the shore to find some other pilings in which flickers were in cavity nests. Finally, on the third visit, there was some action.
A Norther Flicker female flies towards a cavity nest bearing food for its chick. Flicker parents swallow the insects they find, then regurgitate them for the chick. This explains why there does not appear to be anything in the parent’s bill.

Feeding is not impressive; the parent sticks its bill down the throat of the chick and regurgitates.

And the cutest is…
The sight of freshly hatched chicks often evokes the word, cute.
For me, the cutest is the fuzzy-feathered, gangly-legged, chick of the Spotted Sandpiper.