The best aphid protection my roses have ever had

Mr. Hooded Oriole (above) and his wife keep my roses aphid-free along with help from some other birds. I simply provided all the birds with a burbling water fountain set in the middle of the rose garden, and the birds reward me by gleaning all the bugs off by rosebushes.

Vignettes from an afternoon at the bird fountain

If I sit quietly in my chaise under the shade of the oleander with my camera and telephoto lens at the ready, I sometimes get the choice privilege of witnessing the dance around the bird fountain. The finches are visitors at this time of year. And one particular finch family is frequenting the fountain today.

First, Papa Finch comes down to get a drink and also to check out the current safety of the fountain to see if it's okay for the rest of the family to come down too.

Then Mama Finch swoops in gracefully, looking much like a ski jumper in flight.

Mama Finch is then joined by the young fledgling. Mama is teaching her juvenile how to drink but still has to help out sometimes by giving the fledging water directly. It will learn to do this on its own with Mama and Papa's great coaching.

The fledgling looks puzzled when Mama or Papa flies away. It is a tactic to try to get the young one to discover drinking directly from the fountain on its own.

The finches don't own exclusive rights to the water fountain, so they have to know when to share. When a female Anna's hummingbird approaches, the finch gets one last drink and then acquiesces to let the hummingbird take a turn.

This female Anna's is a little more cautious in approaching the fountain than other hummingbirds. She may be young or she may simply be out of her territory (hummingbirds are highly territorial and will chase off interlopers as soon as they are discovered).

She flits and darts as if she's trying to view the gurgling water from every possible angle before imbibing. She is probably feeling little droplets of water as they splash off the fountain. You can see some in the photo below.

The hummingbird is sure she wants to get a drink now and sticks out her long little tongue in anticipation of sipping from the burbling water.

She darts in and back out over and over with her tongue out catching little sips every time she goes close to the water.

After a few drinks, the hummingbird decides she has time to take a bath too.

She sits her tiny little body right in the middle of the action and drenches herself. Over the next minute or more, she is often completely enveloped in the water. Clearly, she loves baths. She's happy, content, and, eventually, very clean.

Now...

Not too far away from the bird fountain amidst the tall-ish grasses growing at the edges of the flagstone and gravels paths that meander through the garden, the visiting feral chicken (who showed up last week) is playing "jungle fowl" and hiding from me as she usually does. But my telephoto lens catches a glimpse of her anyway from across the pond that stands between the two of us. She's not a fan of humans or cameras. So I feel extremely lucky to have gotten another shot of her.

I got my very own "wild turkey surprise"

Does anyone else remember the old Bugs Bunny and Tasmanian Devil cartoon "Bedeviled Rabbit"? Bugs serves Taz a special "treat" called "wild turkey surprise".

Well, I got my very own "wild turkey surprise" when I went out to stroll around the garden just before sunset on Tuesday. I walked down the deck stairs and headed to the bird fountain to top it off with water from the garden hose. I heard a funny "cluck cluck" sound coming from the vicinity of the mandarin tree just past the lemon tree. I'm used to just about every sound that happens in my garden so when I hear something new, it's obvious. I peered in the direction of the sound through the branches as I walked.

Imagine my surprise when I saw a giant wild turkey meandering across the flagstones not far from me!

Taller than a goose with the top of it's head about 4 feet tall, this thing was quite striking considering that most of the wild birds I see in my garden are far smaller. I immediately walked backwards as stealthily as possible toward the house so I could dash in to get my camera--hoping the whole time that it wouldn't leave until I got back out. On my way in the back door I yelled to Hubby, "There's a wild turkey in the back garden!" and dashed into my studio to get my camera out of the camera bag.

I was fortunate that it hadn't left when I got back out. The turkey was moving slowly through the garden mostly because it had a severe limp. I noticed a large patch of feathers on it's front that were out of place and sticking out at a right angle from its body. It looked like it had been in a recent scuffle.

From what I could tell it was a male (possibly a juvenile called a "jake" but I'm not sure as I'm not well versed in wild turkeys).

The turkey made an entire circuit around the garden following the path that goes around the pond. I kept my distance allowing the pond to be a buffer between it and I. I let my zoom lens bridge the gap between us. I didn't want to scare it or cause it to become agressive (turkeys can be dangerous if provoked).

After getting a few shots, I put my camera down for a time while I filled up the bird fountain using the garden hose. It kept an eye on me from behind a palm tree.

When I had my back turned, I suddenly heard a great commotion. I turned to see that it had taken flight and was sitting on the roof of the neighbor's garage that is right on the property line between our garden and theirs. I went back inside to tell Hubby it was still there if he wanted to come see it. He did and we watched it from the safety of our deck chairs until it took flight again and flew to roost in the great stand of eucalyptus trees that grow just over our back fence on open land belonging to the nearby oil refinery.

The rest of the evening we could hear the turkey's gobbling vibrato in the distance as the sun set just past the eucalyptus it had chosen to roost in for the night. I can now add this exciting experience to my list of wildlife encounters in my little semi-rural backyard wildlife habitat.

I think it's almost time to decommission the winter bird feeders

In February, our local Wild Birds Unlimited store had a special on a fun Valentine feeder. If you bought it at regular price, you got 5 lbs. of peanuts in the shell for free. I decided to splurge since I've been wanting one of these coil feeders for a while now to feed the California Scrub Jays that frequent our garden.

The feeder has been out for over a month now. Usually it stays full for a look time and I've only had to refill it once a week. That was until something else discovered it...

I suspect that the squirrels have finally figured out how to dine at the peanut buffet as easily as the jays have been, because when I replenish the peanuts they are almost all gone by the next day except for a few in the bottom. I have also noticed peanut shell debris around the base of the feeder which is atypical for the jays who prefer to extract a peanut and then fly up into the branches of the neighboring trees to dine on the contents. Squirrels prefer to eat and litter right at the feeder.

It's okay. The timing is good. I don't have very many more peanuts left--probably enough to fill the heart one last time. The daytime temps are warm enough now (it's 72F/22C today) that the bugs are coming out along with the green leaves. It's time for all the birds to do their job of eating the bugs in my garden as they've done for the past decade. I'm already seeing tiny bushtits flitting among the branches of my rosebushes feeding on newly hatched aphids (they will keep my roses aphid-free as they always do).

And the scrub jays will transition from the peanuts I've been giving them as a winter treat back to eating small reptiles, small animals and larger insects. They're a great way to control things like grasshoppers, cockroaches, snakes, lizards, frogs and rodents.

Spotting two new birds I've never seen in person... a great way to end 2012, in my opinion

When December rolls around, I begin to fill the bird feeders. I don't have to until then. The birds are busy feeding on bugs and seeds from the rest of the garden. But about December is when the bugs go into hiding and the seeds from the plants get sparse. So the sunflower seeds go into seed feeders and suet goes into the suet feeders.

It is about this time of year that I often see birds I'm not used to seeing here. Because our winters are milder than only just a few hundred miles north, we get visitors that we don't see the rest of the year.

Today, I got the treat of getting to see and photograph two new types of birds that I haven't seen in person before. It was a real treat to see these rare visitors.

Yesterday, when I was sitting on the deck getting sun and giving the garden kitty lots of affection and attention, I spotted a bird and couldn't figure out what it was. I didn't have my camera with me so I had to go off of memory when hunting through my Birds of Northern California book. I couldn't find anything that looked like what I had seen. I felt like one of those people that claims to have seen Bigfoot but didn't have their camera with them. It was maddening.

Today I went out to get my bit of sun for the day (and give attention to the garden kitty) and remembered that I should have my camera with me. So I went back inside, mounted the telephoto lens on my camera body, and headed back out. It wasn't any time at all before I was rewarded with a sighting of a white-breasted nuthatch climbing around on things in a gravity-defying way. I was so excited! On the packaging of the suet I buy, there's a picture of a nuthatch. But I've never seen a nuthatch in my garden... until today!

Then as if on cue, the same kind of mystery bird I saw yesterday flew down and landed not far from the nuthatch on the fence. They were both negotiating who would be eating next from the cylindrical suet feeder with the "peanut butter and jelly" flavored suet (the exact suet with the nuthatch on the packaging). I was so excited! I would finally have photographic evidence of this mystery bird. Hallelujah! I wasn't in the "Bigfoot camp" anymore!

After I uploaded the shots to my computer, I started hunting through my Birds of Northern California book again. It was maddening. Again, I couldn't find one like it. It's often hard to identify birds from my book because the pictures are artist renderings and not photos. Then I spotted one that might be a possibility. I googled the name "yellow-rumped warbler". Hazah! That was it! The photos on the internet look very different than the one artist rendering in the book. I'm surprised I figured it out. 

I read about the yellow-rumped warbler and my book says, "Although [they] do not breed in northern California, they are commonly seen along the Pacific coast in the migration and during winter." Okay! That explains my sighting perfectly.

What a great way to finish out the year, I say.

Finding blood oranges, bird feathers and periwinkle in the garden today

With the sun shining brightly today, I went out to refill the bird feeders with black oil sunflower seeds. The birds waited somewhat impatiently perched on the limbs above my head as I filled each one. Back and forth I went from the garden bench where the big sack of seeds sat to the branches of the cherry tree--taking down each feeder, filling it and then putting it back up again.

On the flagstones under my feet I noticed a feather. I usually don't find fallen feathers (the birds like to keep them for themselves) so it caught my eye. And the beauty of the striking markings on the feather caught my eye as well.

Every time I walked by the feather, I was careful not to step on it.

After I was done filling the feeders, I stooped down to pick up the feather and examine it more closely. It looked like it may have come from a scrub jay... or maybe a mockingbird. The silver grey had a slight blue tinge to it.

I carried the feather with me as I took one last lap around the garden with my gathering basket slung over my arm. I picked a few more mandarins that felt soft to the touch and ready to enjoy. I checked the lemons but didn't find any soft enough to pick. I stopped and took a look at the crop of blood oranges growing on the dwarf Morro blood orange tree and found only one soft enough to harvest.

On my way back up the path to the house, I noticed that a single periwinkle blossom was out--its brilliant blue striking against the other greens and greys of the bed it was nestled in against the fence. Many more blossoms will follow so I decided to pick it and bring it in with the rest of the "precious" things I'd gathered in my basket.

Bringing in the treasures I'd found, I felt a bit like a little kid. And I felt even more childlike wonder cutting open the exotic looking blood orange with it raspberry colored juices dripping out. As I opened the fruit and held it in my hand, the afternoon sunlight streaming in the window reflected off every facet of the ruby innards of the fruit. And I knew I had to photograph it.

It's a hot July day in the gardens of Rosehaven Cottage

Today is a the kind of day we often get in July. The temperature is hovering around 95F (35C). Even though I'm thankful the temps haven't gone up into the triple digits (above 38C), it's still hot with the sun baking everything.

The fennel's as high as an elephant's eye (to borrow a line from Oklahoma), and on days like this the pollinators are out in full force swarming around the blooms (above). If we cooked with fennel pollen like some of the chic chefs we've seen on the Food Network, we'd be set.

The air is often still without a breeze leaving the flag undisturbed--not even a flutter.

The rudbeckia that's been in bloom since January is showing some signs that it really preferred the cool weather to this heat.

When the days are hot and cloudless, the birds and bees are very thirsty. That means for frequent visitors to the bird fountains.

It also means there will be frequent fights at the bird fountains--even between the normally amiable Mr. and Mrs. Finch (and family).

There are places of respite like in the shade of the pomegranate, plum and lemon trees around the pond. Blue damselflies find places to light on the saucer-sized lily pads growing over the entire surface of the pond while naturalized mosquito fish and goldfish dart around in the water underneath.

And an unseasonal California poppy volunteer, that would usually only be growing in February or March, finds a cool shady spot to put forth the tiniest of blossoms.

As for me, once I take my stroll around the garden to check on everything, I go back inside where the air conditioning keeps out the heat. I'll wait until evening before I venture back out again.

Even after living here twelve years, nature still continues to surprise me

Just when I thought that I've got the rhythms of my backyard wildlife habitat all figured out, Mother Nature decided to surprise me and remind me that I have much to learn and discover.

At "golden hour", I ventured out of my studio and went out on the back deck to check the water level in the pond (with the heat and lots of critters drinking from it, I need to replenish it almost every day). I stepped out toward the railing to lean forward and squint to try and see the water level even though the setting sun was shining in my eyes.

Then I saw some movement under the lemon tree. At first glance my brain said, "Some doves are waddling around looking for food."

But then I realized the two birds weren't doves...

... they were California quail!

I quietly eased myself back into the house so I could go get my camera and hoped my movement hadn't scared them off. I had to switch out lenses to my telephoto lens praying the whole time that they'd still be out there when I got done messing with my camera. I finally crept back out.

Thankfully, they were still there.

I shot from up on the deck so they wouldn't be frightened. The sun wasn't in the best position in relation to the two quail but I got as many shots as I could before they both walked into an area of the garden where my view was obstructed. Even though I snuck down in the deck stairs and went around the opposite side of the pond to try and get a better vantage point, I didn't get any more chances to take shots after those first few.

I did get to watch them sauntering around in the shadows of the workshop. I could tell they'd come into our completely fenced-in garden through a space critters have dug under the back fence we share with a large grassy open lot sometimes used as a car repo yard. We're almost even with the back corner of the lot, so I suspect the quail must have come from the significant open space just over the car lot fence less than 25 feet away. The large amount of land that almost completely surrounds our semi-rural neighborhood serves as a buffer for an oil refinery and its tanks. Despite its industrial purpose, the acreage has lots of wildlife living on its grass-covered hilly terrain. We've spotted wild turkey, pheasant, hawks, owls, egrets, heron, grey foxes, deer and we've heard coyotes. Our garden visitors usually are limited to opossum, skunks, raccoons, and an occasional rabbit or egret. Once we even had a mother mallard duck and her ducklings visit the pond for the ducklings first swim.

Now that they've come over to our garden to pay us a visit, we can officially add Mr. and Mrs. Quail to the list of callers at the gardens of Rosehaven Cottage.

Mourning dove in winter

High on a branch

In the mulberry tree

The mourning dove sits

Waiting for spring.

Leaving some plums for the scrub jays to eat

Our one Santa Rosa plum tree produced a bumper crop this year. Almost every evening last week, we went out and harvested plums filling 5-gallon buckets with them--six in all. As we harvested, I also pruned. This species of plum tree is such a fast grower that it sometimes needs a post-harvest haircut. This year it needed one desperately after having branches laden with plums.

Even though I had a long pole lopper for pruning the branches high up (Hubby called me "Cindy Lopper"), there were some plums that we just couldn't reach. So those plums get left on the tree for the birds.

The scrub jays particularly like to hop around in the branches pecking at the juicy sweet plums. They are having quite a feast this year. I'm happy to provide them with such a yummy treat.

Now the back garden has huge piles of plum branches laying about. They have to dry out so we can send them through the chipper and make them into mulch. Hopefully, those piles of branches will be fun for some other critter.

Building a nest out of rose leaves and twigs

As the sun has won the battle with the clouds the past few days, our world has turned from dreary winter into gorgeous spring.

The sparrow couples have begun their nest building activities under the eaves outside my studio window. Chirping and warbling, the sparrows have obviously taken Snow White's advice to "whistle while they work". Some gathered materials fall to the deck below. Amongst the dried twisted twigs are sprigs of freshly picked green sprigs of rose leaves... and one fallen feather.

I feel a kinship with the sparrows. We, too, have built our home of "rose leaves" and "twigs"--"twigs" of foundational structure and "rose leaves" of inexpensive adornments and "pretties" just because.

And, like the sparrows, we've done it as a couple--partners in building the nest we call home.

What is Everyone Looking At? ~~by Lucy Maud

Today there was a lot of peeping and chirping outside Mommy's studio window. All the peeping and chirping was making all the big kitties chatter and chirp too. They were all staring. I'm small so I got to be in front of all the taller kitties. It was very exciting to see what was making all the noise.

My friend Thomasina can do a very fancy acrobatic move and jump up on the middle of the window. She was able to get a better look then me because she was higher.

When I tried to jump up with Thomasina, she got mad and did what Mommy and Daddy call her "Tasmanian Devil" impersonation. I don't know what that is, but I make her do that a lot.

But she still loves me (as long as I don't bite her feet).

Mommy was even watching all the chirping and peeping outside the window. Mommy likes to watch through that big black thing with one eye. Sometimes it's more interesting than what I'm looking at.

Mommy said my name and I turned around to see what she wanted. I'm pretty smart because I know my name is Lucy. When Mommy or Daddy say my name, I come to see what they want even if I'm having a great time looking at something else.

Oh yeah... I almost forgot... I was looking at something outside the window wasn't I?

I wonder what it is that's making all that noise and makes my whiskers quiver...

My friend Dee Dee says that it's called a bird. She even let me stand up in front of her at the window to get a really good look.

And the bird had something in its mouth. It would sit for a while and then disappear into a hole and LOTS of peeping would happen. Then when it came out again, it didn't have anything left in its mouth. It did this again and again.

Dee Dee says that we are "birdwatching". I like birdwatching.

The True Beauty of a Sunflower

Am I alone in finding beauty in a sunflower whose bloom has long since gone? Even as a small child I found the center of a sunflower completely fascinating with all the seeds so perfectly formed and lined up in neat concentric circles. The dry outer edges with their white "whiskers" always intrigued my childhood imagination as well.

Now that I'm older and maintain my own backyard wildlife habitat, there is an added beauty to the dried and spent sunflowers. In planning the Rosehaven Cottage gardens so they could be a certified habitat, I read a lot, and one of the things I remember reading was that if you're a neatnik and a control freak, a wildlife habitat is probably not going to be your cup of tea. Why? Because finely manicured gardens don't necessarily provide the food and shelter that little creatures need to be happy.

I discovered in the first couple of growing seasons, that spent sunflowers remaining in the garden long after the sunflower is "sunny" are a staple of the Rosehaven Cottage habitat. The tall dried stalks get stronger the drier they become, and eventually transform into natural birdfeeders during the lean winter months when the birds can't find insects to munch on because it's too cold for insects to be out and about in the garden.

Many birds winter-over in the Bay Area of Northern California where Rosehaven Cottage is located. These birds thrive on the yummy sunflower seeds that wait and ripen from summer's bloom until winter's birdy harvest. House finches, oak titmouses, scrub jays, woodpeckers, and many seasonal birds find the drooping dried heads and hang from them surgically extracting seeds with their beaks as the winter rains come down around them.

The giant varieties like the Kong sunflower are particularly fun. Their giant heads sit atop thick trunk-like stalks that are up to 14 feet tall. Each giant dish head can hold hundreds of seeds. The birds don't finally deplete the giant heads of their bounty until very late into the winter around February. And because our last frost is usually around the middle to the end of March, the insect population comes back early enough in the year that the seeds last through the lean months until another food source comes along. It is a fascinating and miraculous cycle that I have witnessed year after year, and yet it never ceases to bring me joy and wonder.