Sweet Western Birds

The sun was warm at Giant Springs, and cedar waxwings were basking.

Smooth little dumpling birds, hanging in the bare branches like ornaments.

A Bullock's oriole flaunted his snowy epaulets in the same tree.


A firebrand of a bird, singing perhaps about the swarms of midges all around him, about abundance.

While lower down, a least flycatcher sat her fluffy nest.

My Matchday - 228 Moss Lane

Alrincham 3v2 Gateshead
Blue Square Premier
Tuesday 29th September 2009

Altrincham is a market town in Greater Manchester within the Metropolitan Borough of Trafford. The town is quite posh, with a strong middle class populace which stems back to the 19th century. Today’s residents including the likes of Premier League footballers and the cast of Corrie. Nowadays it's became a commuter town, with the neighbouring Bowden and Hale make the area the stockbroker belt of Manc.


Altrincham formed as Broadheath FC in 1891, becoming founder members of the Manchester League, changing their name to Altrincham FC in 1903.
In 1910 the club moved from Pollitt‘s Field to Moss Lane, which was originally part an area of common land known as Hale Moss.
The following year the club joined the Lancashire Combination, a league they played in for eight years until becoming founder members of the Cheshire County League in 1919.
The Robins spent almost 50 years in the Cheshire League, but it wasn’t until the mid-sixties that they finally became champions. Back to back titles followed by and a runners-up spot saw the club join the newly formed Northern Premier League in 1968.
Altrincham must be one of the most unfortunate clubs in Non-League football. The club finished runners-up in the Northern Premier League in 1978-79, which made them one of the original clubs in the newly formed Alliance Premier League (Conference)
The Robins won the first two Alliance titles, twice narrowly missed out on election to the Football League. In 1980 a solitary vote denied them a place in League Division Four. They came so close to becoming a League club and since automatic promotion was established in 1987 they haven’t finished amongst the promotion pack.
The club were relegated back to the Northern Premier League in 1997, spending the following few years jumping between the leagues until the 2004 reconstruction placed them in the Conference North.
Alty returned to the Conference National winning the old North v South final in 2005 beating Eastbourne Borough at the Britannia Stadium. Since returning to the top division the club have been lucky to remain in the league, the financial misfortune of others clubs has seen them saved from the drop over three consecutive seasons.
Altrincham have enjoyed success in the FA Trophy with Alty fans taking the walk up Wembley Way on three occasions. Winning the trophy in 1978 against Leatherhead, in 1986 over Runcorn, and losing out to Enfield in 1982.
They are also the biggest giant killers in FA Cup history, knocking out Football League opposition a record 16 times. The biggest scalp of all was top flight Birmingham City in 1986.
Their most famous celebrity fan is old papier-mache nappa himself - The Bard of Timperley -Frank Sidebotton and earlier this season Aussie cricket captain Ricky Ponting became a shareholder in the club after becoming pals with Altrincham chairman Geoff Goodwin.

I again used the excellent Torchy Travel executive Heed tours for my trip to Altrincham.
The only change to the line up which travelled to Kettering three weeks ago was Old Goat came in to the central back seat position, replacing Kav, unavailable due to work commitments.

Moss Lane is a classic homely Non-League ground. The main facilities are all located at one side of the ground. The Carole Nash Insurance Stand is a tall single tier, decked out in red seats with glass windshields and a few narrow supporting pillars. At one side there’s the Goodwin Family Stand, which is a smaller separate stand. The club shop, refreshment bar and a block of terrace steps are at the other side, along with the entrance to the Noel White Suite which is situated under the stand.
The Popular Side is a long terrace which runs pitch length which is mostly covered, the middle section has a higher roof which accommodates the TV gantry.
The Golf Road End is a covered terrace with red crash barriers which runs at a slight angle at each side, making the section behind the goal much wider.
The Hale End is an open terrace which is allocated to away fans, but with the Heed Army masses making up only 13 of the 769 in attendance, then no segregation was in place leaving the Alty fans free to use the terrace when their team kicked towards that end in the second half.

Two goals in stoppage time denied Gateshead a much needed away victory with a hotly disputed penalty giving all three points to the Robins.
The game bust into life with a goal after only 80 seconds. A defensive clearance fell into the path of Anthony Danylyk, who struck a sweet half volley from the edge of the penalty area which flew past the keeper’s right hand post.
The lead lasted only four minutes, Gateshead’s first venture forward saw a well hit Turnbull shot parried by keeper Coburn into the path of Graeme Armstrong. who had the simple task of netting the rebound home from close range.
After such a positive start to the game, the remainder of the first half was a scrappy affair. Both teams failing to find any rhythm, giving possession away cheaply. The home side produced more goal attempts, although nowhere near the target.
Altrincham looked more likely to take the lead in second half. Good wing play from Doughty on the right, should have been rewarded with a goal and then Sheridan went close with a free kick which was deflective over the crossbar.
On 68 minutes Gateshead took to lead with their first effort of the second half. A good ball from Francis found the overlapping Baxter, his cross to the statuesque One was nodded away by a defender, the ball then fell kindly to Turnbull, who struck a well hit drive under the diving keeper’s body from the edge of the area.
After using all their substitutes Gateshead were reduced to ten men after an injury to Richardson with five minutes remaining. This seemed to cause mass panic and a backs to the wall rearguard as the Heed tried to hang on for the three points.
A head injury to Altrincham’s Aaron Burns in stoppage time meant further time to be added to the allotted four minutes. Play resumed with a corner kick which was nodded home by the unmarked Chris Denham at the near post, the Gateshead defence losing concentration after the long delay.
Just as it looked like a great away win had turned into a well earned draw for The Tynesiders, things got worse. A penalty in the 6th minute of stoppage time was awarded for.. well to be honest I’m still not quite sure. Gateshead keeper Farman came out to collect a loose ball and as he gathered the ball the oncoming striker appeared to catch him in the chest with his boot before falling over. A free kick to the keeper, no a penalty kick! Even the Altrincham fans were flabbergasted at the decision. Apparently there was a foul by Curtis on Senior prior to that incident and that's the reason for the spot kick, but again it was a case of - what foul?
Anyway Matt Doughty made no mistake with the penalty and proceeded to do a lap of honour of Moss Lane in celebration.
A good win for Alty which took them into the top half of the table and only a few points off the play-offs. While it’s six defeats out of seven on the road for The Tynesiders, a record which will have to be vastly improved or our stay in the Conference will be a brief one season guest appearance.

Matchday Facts

AAFC 3(Danylyk 2, Denham 90+3 Doughty(pen) 90+6

GFC 2(Armstrong 6, Turnbull 68)

att.769

Admission £13

Programme £2

Ground no.228 Moss Lane - Matchday Webalbum (14 pictures)

Cliff Swallows--on a Cliff!

Petrodchelidon pyrrhonota--the rock swallow with fiery ears.



We're so used to seeing cliff swallows nesting on buildings, under eaves, and under bridges that it's a minor revelation to see them nesting on their traditional substrate. In Great Falls, Montana, there's a lovely park on the banks of the Missouri River called Giant Springs State Park. Here, a colony of cliff swallows has made its home.

When we visited, the nests were largely under construction, leading to a number of pretty adorable photo-ops.
The swallows gather mud on streambanks and in puddles, bringing little wads of it in their gullets, making thousands of trips for each nest. These seem happy to have made a place to perch. But there's much more to do. The little mud slings are rounded out into bowls.

Pairs work together, trying to get the nests finished before the eggs come. I find it amazing that they can construct these elegantly cantilevered jugs without the whole thing just falling off.

Cliff swallows have little headlamps of white that show up well in the dark nest interior. It's a clear signal that the nest is occupied.

There's a lot of conversation between neighbors, and there's egg dumping and mate switching and even egg switching. It gets kind of crazy. Charles Brown at the University of Tulsa has done fascinating studies of cliff swallow coloniality--its benefits and costs. He discovered a new form of reproductive parasitism when he witnessed cliff swallows entering other nests with eggs in their bills. Not only do the swallows lay eggs in others' nests, but they may also carry their eggs in their bills and deposit them in others' nests. They'll throw out an egg in other nests, as well. It's puzzling why they do this. Perhaps they're hedging their bets, increasing the chance that their young will fledge by farming some out.

Years ago, I painted that scene, of a cliff swallow with an egg in its bill, for Dr. Brown's species account in the Birds of North America, but I don't have the original any more. He might have bought it. It's all lost in the mists of memory.


These nests are almost finished. A rainproof neck completes the construction, pointing downward. Eggs are usually laid before the entrance tunnel is complete.

There are benefits and costs to living in a colony. Brown discovered that, like honeybees, cliff swallows are able to communicate about food sources, letting other colony members in on an insect hatch, for instance. They seem to have specific calls that function as words, that are used only in the context of communicating about food.

But tremendous ectoparasite loads build up in these nests, with lice, mites and bloodsucking bugs sometimes multiplying to crippling loads.

All of which leads one to wonder why a robin would want to build her nest in the midst of a swallow colony.
She had young chicks already, when the cliff swallows were just starting to lay eggs.


I hope her young fledge before the swallow bugs build up. Looking at it another way, she's probably well-protected from hawks and other avian predators.
You can just see the yellow billtips poking up above the nest rim. Good luck, Mrs. Robin.

The Cowboy's Sketches

Charles Russell's narrative is as amusing as his cartoons. This one refers to his toothlessness, and the fragments I could read said, "I had teeth then but were shed since...when you've been swallowing your grub like a chicken for over a year..." What an image that conjures!

He worked as a cowboy in the Judith Basin of Montana from age 16-27, when he decided to become a full-time artist. He died in 1926, much too early, at age 62. More than 4,000 works make his an incredible legacy. The Charles M. Russell Museum has preserved his home and his log cabin studio with all the props, clothing, saddles, and accoutrements that lend his paintings authenticity. I love, love, love this museum.

He often seemed to be trying to make his friends feel better. Here's a letter to a sick friend, with drunken cowboys singing lustily:
Nice letterhead, huh? I should emulate that, something so simple and iconic. Perhaps I could draw a pile of raccoon poo full of pawpaw seeds. If I ever used letterhead anymore...it's all electrons, ma'am.

A New Year's card, wishing away the spectre of illness:

I'm hoping old sickness don't locate your camp
And health rides hard on you
May Dad Time be slow at snuffing your lamp
And your trail be smooth plum through.

That horse fairly breathes. I think his tail just switched.

This letter sketch completely flipped me out. Look at those horses, that action, that painting!!

Good Lord! If I ever got a letter like this...and yet when I was young and had all kinds of time, I illuminated my letters to a beloved uncle, who was confined to a nursing home, in this way. I had to stop decorating the envelopes when they started disappearing before they reached their destination. Someone in the chain of post offices took a liking to them. Kind of like stealing flowers out of someone's garden.

Charlie Russell's illuminated letters are compiled in a brand new book, available on the C. M. Russell Museum's web site. Mmm. Christmas.

Liam stood rooted before this exquisite drawing of a shaman calling up three white buffalo. We felt shivers pass right through us. It was as if no time had passed at all.

This is the only real American.
He fought and died for his country.
Today he has no vote
No country and is not a citizen
But history will not forget him.

Charles M. Russell, Jan. 5, 1914

My father was two when this was painted.
It hasn't been such a long time, after all.

We are still so close to what was, what is wild and wonderful about our country.

Montana Pronghorns

Moving to Montana soon...gonna be a dental floss tycoon.

Well, we weren't moving TO Montana, we were moving toward Montana from our stint in North Dakota. And I was completely excited. See, when I was 12, I spent a summer in Opheim, in the northeast corner of the state near the Saskatchewan border. I was staying with my eldest sister and her husband in a little ranch house on the Air Force base there. The first thing I remember noticing is the sky, and the second thing was the way the lawn grass would lay down flat when the wind blew. I'd never seen that before. I also noticed horned larks, long-billed curlews, blue-winged teal, jackrabbits, coyotes and pronghorns. Eastern Montana was a budding naturalist's paradise. Heaven, to be plonked down in a biome that couldn't have been any more different from Richmond, Virginia, where I grew up.

Pronghorns, North America's fastest land mammal, reign supreme on the Montana plains. I love seeing pronghorns, these Pleistocene relics, these antelope in a world of deer. Well, they aren't really antelope, either, but members of their own family, the Antilocapridae. At one time more than 100 million pronghorn raced over the Great Plains of North America, but the same market hunters that eliminated the bison moved to scrub pronghorn out, too, lest the Plains Indians find something left worth eating on the lands we raided, raped and left desolate. They almost succeeded, too, reducing pronghorn numbers to 34,000 by the 1920's. There aren't quite a million pronghorn in all of North America now, 1/100th of their former numbers. Think about that.

And most of them seem to be in Montana.

Wearing the equivalent of 8-power binoculars on either side of their heads, pronghorn don't miss much. They eye you carefully and turn tail quickly, seeming to form their opinion and act on it swiftly.
That heart-shaped rump disc can be flared in alarm, letting you know you've been seen. Might as well not try to chase me; I can hit 60 mph if I need to, with a cruising speed of 30.

The pronghorn were looking pretty sheddy, pretty molty.
This little gal was nursing, and she let us get closer than most, probably because a fawn was flattened down somewhere in the vicinity.

Yep, nursing. See the udder and two teats?
We did a double-take with this grouping. Has she got three fawns?

Yes, a litter of pronghornlets, and we watched them all nurse at once.
A quintessential Montana scene: Sage, bobwire, and a couple of pronghorn
with a lark bunting on the wire!
Bill and I chased lark buntings for most of a day, trying to get a photo, any photo, of these elusive and spooky little black birds. Those white shoulders! That song! Ah, well. They're a signature bird of the Montana sage, one that lived in my memory, and it was a tonic to see them again, even if we couldn't get a decent photo.

Poor Liam and Phoebe got quite fed up with our quest for this flighty little bird. Can we go somewhere, anywhere? Now? Did you get your picture? No? Pleeeease? Can we go?
Sure. We can go. But there will be other sights to behold.

This is open range. As in, fence-free. Talk about free-range grass fed beef! We don't see open range in Ohio, except when a calf gets out. Whoa bossy!

Bonus points to anyone who can identify this little denizen of the sage. I've caught him in a particularly saucy pose.

My Matchday - 227 stadium:mk

Milton Keynes Dons 0v1 Leeds United
League One
Saturday 26th September 2009

Milton Keynes is a large town in Buckinghamshire, designated in 1967 as part of the Governments plans to regenerate a new town in the South East, to relieve the housing overspill in London.
The merger of the existing towns of Bletchley, Stony Stratford and Wolverton, along with a further fifteen villages in between made up a total area of 34 square miles. Amongst those was a small village situated east of the planned town centre, which gave the new town its name - Milton Keynes.
The fairytale of the birth of MK Dons is well known, it’s the classic tale which even now still seems a bit far fetched, as it’s never happened before and very unlikely to ever happen again.
It all started when local businessman Peter Winkelman had plans to develop a new stadium in the town, the problem was he didn’t have a professional club to play there.
He cast his eyes over a poor little club in South London, who had been homeless for 12 years, after unsuccessful attempts to move back to their true home in the London Borough of Merton.
He wanted the Dons of Wimbledon to ‘Come to Milton Keynes’ with promises of a home of their own which would be a financially sound and secure the club‘s future. The story reminds me of that song by the Style Council;

May I walk you home tonight
On this fine and lovely night tonight -
Well walk past the luscious houses,
Through rolling lawns and lovely flowers -
Our nice new town where the curtains are drawn
Where hope is started and dreams can be borne.

By 2002 the club was in financial ruin and more desperate to move to a new location to survive, after being approached by a consortium which including InterMK Ltd with a blueprint for a new stadium. The Dons agreed and The FA sanctioned the move in May 2002.

In our paradise lost we’ll be finding our sanity
In this paradise found we’ll be losing our way -
For a brave new day

The 62 mile move north was met with anger from the supporters of Wimbledon and all football fans alike. The club lost the majority of its loyal fan base shifting their alliance to the newly formed AFC Wimbledon, with the rest of the football fan family boycotting games featuring the Dons.
Mounting debts saw the club go into administration in 2004 and were also relegated to League One. Winkelman then purchasing the club, his promise of the move being financially rewarding having failed.
　
I was looking for a job so I came to town
I easily adopt when the chips are down -
I read the ad about the private schemes
I liked the idea but now I’m not so Keyne.
　
Once the club was sold Winkelman announced he was renaming the club to Milton Keynes Dons FC, as well as changing the club colours and crest.
The club was re-launched just nine months after they reallocated in June 2004. This move didn’t just bring the birth of a new club, it signified the death of another in Wimbledon FC.
A club which had fought its way through Non-League, before three consecutive Southern League titles saw them joining the Football League in 1977. The first club to win both FA amateur and professional cups, who gave the world the Crazy Gang, gone for good, but never to be forgotten.
　
Lyrics by Paul Weller.
Reached number 23 in the hit parade in July 1985
(C) 1984 Polydor Ltd. (UK)

The club played at their temporary home at the National Hockey Stadium for three seasons before moving to their purpose built stadium in the Denbigh district of town.
stadium:mk was designed by Populous, who had also designed Wembley and Emirates Stadiums and constructed by Buckingham Group Contracting at a cost of £50m.
The stadium currently holds 22,000 with the top tier still unused around three sides which would add an extra 10,000 to capacity. The ground is bowl shaped with a large gap in between the roof and the top tier which produces a lot more natural light.
The main West Stand differs, having an added shelf type tier with two rows of executive boxes at the top running the full length of the stand.
There’s a video scoreboard at the North Stand, which is also allocated to away supporters.
The East Stand is the only section with text picked out amongst the black seats, with MK (big red dot) DONS picked out in white.
The South Stand is known as The Cowshed, where the main Dons vocal support gather. I have to mention the excellent backing they gave their team throughout the game.

An injury time winner from Robert Snodgrass denied MK Dons a well earned point after playing the whole of the second half with 10-men.
The goal came in the second minute of stoppage time. A free kick wide left was swung in from Andy Robinson who found Snodgrass unmarked, making no mistake with a strong header past Gueret.
An even first half saw the Dons creating some good openings, striker Aaron Wilbraham failed to capitalise after good play from Chadwick and Lewington setting up the striker on three separate occasions.
Leeds had chances of their own, especially just before the interval with Snodgrass shooting wide after a Leeds counter attack and Kisnorbo sending a free header over
the crossbar.
An unnecessary challenge from Jason Puncheon on the stroke of half time, lunging in with a high footed tackle on Michael Doyle, gave referee Andy D’Urso no choice but to produce a red card.
Leeds failed to capitalise on the extra man advantage, the Dons battled well restricting the visitors to half chances from Beckford and Grella, while Leven went close for the home side with an ambitious volley from 25 yards.
Just as it looked like the Dons had earned a battling draw, they suffered the heartbreak of that last minute strike, which sent the 4,000 plus away following back to Yorkshire happy to see their side remain top of the pile in League One.

I travelled down to Lincolnshire on Friday where we were staying for a relaxing weekend break. I planned a leisurely drive down the A1 to Milton Keynes on Saturday morning, heading off at 1130am and expecting the 88 mile journey to be completed well before 1.30pm, well that WAS the plan.
The first obstacle I occurred was an accident on the motorway which diverted traffic off the A1. This meant an unwanted tour of the Rutland countryside which lead to bumper-to-bumperland aka Stamford.
At this point, if I had a newspaper with me, I would have checked if Stamford were playing at home, then parked up in the town to tick off the Vic Couzens Stadium instead, but I decided to keep going and hope I would make it. (as it turned out they were away)
After finally returning to the A1, I was again bullied off the motorway due to road works, forcing me on to the A14. I was really pushing it at this stage, with the ETA up to 2.50pm. Thankfully Margaret the Satnav was in fine form, guiding me on the A45 and eventually meeting the M1 which led me to the promised land of MK.
I finally arrived at 2.35pm, just managing to find a small parking space without double-yellow lines in the West Denbigh Industrial Estate.
I had enough time to visit the clubs shop, pick up my pass from the main reception and I finally took up my position in the stand just as the players were about to enter the arena.
The journey back to Lincs went smoothly, maybe because I avoided the nightmare A1, instead sticking to it‘s ‘M’ equivalent. Overall the stressful journey was worth it. I was really impressed with stadium:mk, the facilities are first class and as I’ve already mentioned the MK Army backed their team to the hilt. I got the impression of a well ran family club.
However after such an eventful day there was one big disappointment, after travelling all those miles I never spotted the one thing Milton Keynes is famous for - concrete cows! MOO!

Matchday Facts

MKD 0 LUFC 1(Snodgrass 90+2) Att. 16,713

Admission £22-£28

Programme £3

Ground no.227 stadium:mk - Matchday Webalbum
(17 pictures)

Zickefoose at West Liberty

Zick and Billofthebirds performing music at the conclusion of my talk at the lovely and acoustically perfect Hoover Auditorium, Lakeside, Ohio. Photo by Jim McCormac.

I'm doing my best to catch up on sleep and rest after the Midwest Birding Symposium, which was really fun and stimulating. However upon reflection I've decided that it was like standing in a receiving line for three days. But wait, there's more:

On the off chance that readers live in the Wheeling, WV area, I'll send a shout out into the ether. I'm leaving Tuesday for a three-day Zickapalooza at West Liberty University in West Liberty, WV, not far from Wheeling. Here's the schedule:

Lunch with Authors

Tuesday, September 29, Noon

Ohio County Public Library

Wheeling, W.Va.

Speakeasy

Wednesday, September 30

Noon

Social Room, Interfaith Chapel, WLU

Hughes Lecture

Wednesday, September 30

3:30 p.m.

Boyle Conference Center, ASRC, WLU

refreshments

Art Exhibition Opening "Letters from Eden"

Wednesday, September 30

5:30 p.m.

Nutting Gallery, Hall of Fine Arts WLU

refreshments

Watercolor Master Class

Thursday, October 1

Noon - 2 p.m.

I'm hoping to feel a bit more zippy by Tuesday. Think I'll need to be on top of my game, with a show to hang and four talks to give. Come see me if you're in the area!

We Eliminated Them

One of the hard things about having your tender and sensitive nine-year-old son be in love with bison is the sad, sad history of the animal on our Great Plains. We entered the Charles M. Russell Museum's brand new bison exhibit in Great Falls, Montana with a little trepidation, knowing the story in advance. A thrilling surround film with thundery, grunty sound effects put us right in the middle of a stampeding herd. And then there came the bones.

To kill off the American Indian, first you must kill off his primary food source: the bison. And so, in the chillingly methodical way of our kind, we did that with speed and efficiency. Hired hunters killed all day long, taking nothing but the tongue, or taking nothing at all. This, when Plains Indians ate each bison they killed clean, used every single hair and sinew from a carcass for something. I cannot imagine the disgust with which they must have viewed this waste, this obscenity we visited upon the animal they valued above all else. And upon them. I cannot imagine why we thought they should welcome us on their hunting grounds, or do anything other than send arrows through us on sight. We'd hang a man for stealing horses. What should be the punishment for sending the American bison, their sacred staff of life, to extinction?

A photograph of a pile of bison skulls. Not bones, just skulls, stacked. We did this.

Liam and I stood before this display and wept.

We got rid of them, these animals that could teach any cow a thousand lessons about surviving a Montana winter, who could gain weight on forage that would starve cattle.

Charles M. Russell

From one of Charles Russell's letters. No one could convey the thunder and confusion of a herd like he could.

The bison is an icon of the vanished West, and our world is now so cut up and controlled, so plowed under and compartmentalized, that there are no places outside parks where bison can roam, where they wouldn't have to push down fences or cross highways to find the food they need.

Their hunch-backed, narrow silhouettes haunt me. Once, they ruled the Plains but are now reduced to remnant captive herds, or small wild herds confined to parks and reserves.

Still, we'd go looking for them, for Liam's sake and ours.

For more on bison and their superb adaptations, see my post, "The Durable Bison,"

a post I love.

It dates from the days when I had time to think and write more in this space. But that's OK, no regrets. Sometimes you blog, and sometimes you live your life. To every thing there is a season.