When the light is right, it’s easy to see what a colorful fellow he really is. This is, sadly, a low-res clip from a video. What you can’t see is how slowly he rises, it was a hover combined with a liftoff. He watched the camera the whole time.

At Shoreline Park, we found this goose and wondered how it sustained such an injury. But after doing a search, I found that it has angel wing, a condition possibly caused by kindly bird lovers who feed the geese.

It was smaller than the rest of the flock, feeding in an area much less green and lush.

At Shoreline near the golf course, large numbers of geese were busy having their breakfast. In a short time they stopped retreating so I could get fairly close. I got lots of good footage, and it wasn’t till I got back in the car that I noticed the problem.

My shoes. My poor shoes had goose poop on the soles and up the sides, up to the shoelaces. Scraping them on the cleaner grass didn’t help much. Removing what I tracked into the car was not easy. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to play soccer on a field of this.

But now I know where the geese hang out when they’re not around here. (Thanks for the tip, Tiff!) Plus, there were brown pelicans gliding over the water, ditto egrets. A large hawk came around a bush nearby and flew along the water, used to hikers and bicyclists alike.

Next time I try this, I’ll wear boots that I can hose down afterward.

I saw some movement in the front oak, and went to look through the viewfinder. It was a squirrel, crouched and frozen on a limb. When he finally moved, he was cautious and slow.

Very strange, the neighborhood usually sounds like a jungle with the shrieking of the crows and the constant songbird soundtrack. All I can hear is traffic.

I’m trying to take pictures with some holiday elements, like poinsettias. The ones I bought in a hurry over the weekend succumbed quickly to wind and a lack of fullness, so that I had to keep rearranging them. It’s hard to fluff out inadequate poinsettias. Last night I went out and got some very full ones and put them to the test today.

Except they sagged and rolled around. Then I had to periodically clean up the seeds the birds disperse when they take off and land on the table. In other words, I spent a lot of time prepping. The chickadees didn’t really mind, they waited in the bushes nearby.

A few hours later, they weren’t leaving the table when I had to adjust something. One landed on a leg of the tripod as I was using it. I gave them some of the roasted grubs as a reward.

Trekking around the Baylands Park, I was out for egrets, possibly herons. Mostly I wanted to know where the Canada geese flocks go when they leave the junior high fields. This sighting was unexpected, and in the excitement at finding a hawk, I forgot a couple of things. Manual focus. Movies.

It was very intent on finding some breakfast. I could see that it was damp, and there was some sort of protrusion on its lower body, perhaps some matted feathers. When I got home and checked the photos, I discovered that the hawk either has a deformity, with claws where they shouldn’t be, and only one foot, or is holding an injured foot up high. In some photos, it appears from the shape of the leg area that there could be another foot, but it is not visible.

Despite its handicap, the bird appears well-nourished. If any reader has an explanation, I’d love to hear it.

I managed to get up early enough to catch them, the downside being that it was also start time for a soccer game in that field, so the players were chasing them away. No worries, they always come back.

New bird. Large new bird on the table (not the feeding table) by the door. Looking in at me curiously. Woodpecker. Normally a shy bird that I catch a glimpse of now and then high up in the oak trees. Now about three feet away, looking friendly.

I had heard they would come to feeders, but maybe not so much in the Bay Area. Only one way to find out. I shall be messing with suet.

At least I had Firefox, and doing a search on a lost finder was frustrating indeed. Most suggestions had to do with re-installs, which I didn’t want to mess with late in the evening. I was faced with calling tech support in the morning, which I also didn’t want to do since there was unfinished business on the stuff I had been working on.

I knew it had something to do with the many movies I had taken. But would I actually get my finder back if I restarted? What if I didn’t? Yes, yes, I have AppleCare. But I wanted things right so I would be set to go on everything by 6:00 a.m. Wednesday, not 8 or 9:00 a.m.

It was fine.

And of course I know I need more RAM. Which I will purchase (I know RAM is cheap) as soon as I get over how much I just spent on two 16GB memory cards. Because I found out very quickly that shooting footage eats up 4 and 8GB cards like nobody’s business.

There’s only one feeder at the moment. Over the weekend, I found another that is an inverted bottle-type, but the bottle has been gathering rainwater and outdoor debris for some time. Once it’s cleaned, it will be interesting to see how he reacts to it.

Yesterday I lowered the tripod, parked myself in a chair and waited to see if he would do anything different if I put the feeder on the other side of the tomato cage. I tilted the feeder so the nectar would pool to one side. When he showed up, he went to his usual side, then became frustrated at not finding his food at the usual place. He bounced around, beak down, then he did a flyby under the roof overhang, where he’s more used to finding the feeder. Eventually, he was able to get at the nectar, but not where I wanted him to be. Maybe today I’ll plug up the other holes.

Back in the spring, there were lively young chickadees that took a keen interest whenever I watered the raised vegetable beds. I assumed they were juveniles from their lack of grace when landing on branches. They took to hanging out in either the plum tree or the pyracantha bush next to it. One day I aimed the hose spray upward.

They went crazy. Such a racket, and before I knew it, there were ten or so, all calling happily to each other, shaking out their wings, holding their heads upward. Clearly this was a great treat. After a few days, a wren or two would show up, and sometimes, a hummingbird. At this point, there was no hummingbird feeder, but they visited the fuchsia plants and Mexican sage regularly.

I wanted a video of this so that family members wouldn’t think I had gone off the deep end. But before I knew it, the young chickadees were gone. Vanished. On to greener territories perhaps. The whole summer went by without a single one noticing when I watered. If I pointed the spray at the remaining chickadees, they flew away.

Today, I went out to check on the green beans and the last tomato plants that are still producing. More on those another time. Was that a happy chickadee sound? Yes, and several were answering. There was the buzz of a giant bee, which I suspected was Sparky. I sprayed up into the pyracantha, which needs pruning very badly. One by one, they flew into the bush, which is more like a tree. Even the juncos were there, but more subdued than the rest, who had their wings out, heads up, shaking their feathers. Giant bee buzz again. There he was, in the middle, little wings out and chirping away, bobbing up and down, my resident hummer.

Will they do this for at least another week? Temps are warm, in the 70s. I must figure out the movie function on the camera. I’m thinking this is at least a 2-man project.

How many of you showed up way too early? Especially since fall is the one time we get an extra hour of sleep.

Which makes my biggest garden/garage spider puny in comparison. I really don’t think I’ll be getting a ruler and stretching out its legs. For which we’re both grateful.

Yes, yes, I’m releasing it today. Not only does it seem to have an imploring gaze when I look at the photos, but yesterday found me searching the garden in vain for some live insect food to sustain it.

Obviously the South Bay did not get the deluge that occurred elsewhere.

For a few seconds, I inverted the cup. This is one fast spider that I did not want loose in the house. Did I mention that it’s really, really big?

Because we accidentally/on purpose manage to meet up at various places in the yard, I decided to give him a name. His bright magenta gorget is dazzling when the light is just right so that he sparkles. I’d like you to meet Sparky:

although you have probably seen him in earlier posts.

Sometime this morning, when I was deep in work, Sparky spotted a lady friend. When I say he’s the lone hummer, I merely mean he’s the only one that dines at the feeder. So far he has chased away everything else.

Thus began the curious courting behavior of head bobbing. The female sat quietly, but Sparky went beserk. Finally I got the camera and, sans tripod, tried to get a shot or two. He never stopped moving, and was all puffed up as well. Of course my hands weren’t steady, but then neither was he.

Next time I’ll just take movies.

The back patio is still underwater, big puddles elsewhere in the yard. Big chunks of palm tree came down but no fencing, thank goodness. I put garbage cans under the roof runoff areas. No sign of a letup in rain, but gusts have diminished as earlier. Well, wait a minute. Take that back.

Meanwhile, a family member became enamored of an ancient vise in the garage. He planned to return later with his tools to remove it.

Today was 50% off everything. Removing the vise took a lot longer than planned, so I looked around again. The flags were still there. An elderly gentleman was checking out all the smalls on the table next to me. When I asked a seller the price, he said $5 for each. That seemed very reasonable for very large fabric flags. The seller said one flag had to be New Zealand, what with the British flag in one corner and the stars. The old fellow spoke up, and said it was the Hawaii flag.

I admitted I didn’t know what the Hawaii flag looked like. In my mind I pictured something like the Hong Kong flag, a flower motif. I didn’t understand why it would feature the Union Jack. The gentleman looked around, found a packet of maps, and said, ‘Here’s a map of Hawaii, maybe there’s a flag on it.’

It wasn’t really that important, but he went to a lot of trouble spreading the map out. In his ongoing conversation with the seller, he said he knew the man who owned the house, and that he was 93 years old to the owner’s 95.

I paid for the flags, and went out to the car to wait. When the family member returned, he said none of the sellers bothered to help him, but finally a really old fellow came over and gave him assistance.

The flag in question turned out to be Australian. But thanks to a 93-year old, I now know that Britain once had political authority over Hawaii. I will probably think of him every time I pick up that flag.

This morning when I went to check, two of the blocks were gone. Not chewed or nibbled at, just completely disappeared.

Raccoons maybe? A swarm of mice or rats like the ones in Ratatouille or Despereaux?

To be continued.

Where a woodpecker, probably the one I’ve been stalking in the front oak tree, is flitting around. Chasing it is the male, bright red head gleaming in the noon sun. I’ve never seen him before. They cling to a couple of posts, one of which holds a small wood birdhouse. Then they make their way up the posts, stopping at the birdhouse. Some sort of courting behavior is going on, lots of flying back and forth, then they land on the pyracantha bush.

Throughout all of this highly photogenic action, I am glued to the phone, unable to take one shot.

Maybe this happens more often, it’s just that my desk faces the other way. However, when I do get around to taking any pictures, there are two very large spiders resting in their jars.

The other night I spotted it over by the window while I was fixing supper. A family member immediately went into some kind of loop: How did that get in the house? How did that get in the house? How did that get in the house?

Somehow, the subject was cornered. This morning I released it on a piece of paper, but it was bent on a fast escape. The home jar was too distorted for a decent photo, so I used a plastic cup instead. It spent the entire session trying to leave the premises. Unlike the previous spider, it did not spin obscuring webs. Very soon now, it will be finding a new home out in the garden.

Compared to the birthday parties of their younger days, it was easy. And thank goodness, no one had to resort to this at our house.

At lunchtime, there was a really strange shaking of the nandina bush next to the table. When I peered around the screen, there was a little mouse laboriously making its way up the branches. It looked like a small stuffed animal.

The roof rats, for which this area is famous, tend to come out just before dark, which is why I bring in the bird food around 8:00 p.m., even earlier now that the light is changing. From time to time we can see them scurrying along the tops of the fences. Nasty-looking, ratty things. Sometimes they leap up on the table right after sunset, completely creeping me out. But this doesn’t happen very often.

Now this tiny thing was struggling to get up the bush. It looked a little like a field mouse, but cuddlier. Could it have been someone’s pet, used to a human mealtime ? When I got outside, it took a good look at me before scrambling down the branches and away.

I should have gotten a photo.

This time of year it’s hard to check the garden without walking into spider webs. In the 95° temps this afternoon, I found this creature. A hot breeze came up, so I didn’t get the shot I wanted. I suspect it will still be there tomorrow.

A family member saw the feathers coming down from the oak tree. By the time I set up the tripod, the hawk was mostly finished, and sailed off across the rooftops. Although there are bigger birds, it seems to be after the little dark-eyed juncos lately. The junco breeding pairs in the yard are very successful. While not exactly in big flocks like the sparrows, they are still the dominant group. Stands to reason the younger ones are easier to catch.

I had to fight off the ants for the feathers.

My lone brain is obviously inferior to your collective genius. Despite my peppering the ground below with a potent ant poison, you have managed to sidestep this formidable obstacle, and once again reach the holy grail of hummingbird nectar. You have gathered those among you who have mastered the art of swimming, and breached the defenses of the double moats.

The grail of endless sweetness has been temporarily moved to its original position under the roof overhang. Where you will no doubt send your mighty armies in the stealth of night.

Meanwhile, the hummingbird and I are pondering possible solutions. It has nixed the vaseline. But is probably grateful for the protection of the overhang, although I don’t think the average hawk will go for a hummer. See next post.

As I sit here eating toast, deep in work, the hummingbird shows up. Instead of landing, it hovers from one opening to another, then disappears. I peer at the liquid in the feeder about ten feet away. Hmmm, this calls for a closer inspection. I had just changed the nectar on Monday, and it was still clear. Except for a speck or two, which could have been some debris from the tip of the hummer’s beak. But no. Maybe half a dozen ants were hanging in little straight lines, back legs somehow attached to the sides, heads in the nectar. A few more elsewhere, floating.

Unlike before, there was no line of marching ants heading up and down the wire of the tomato cage to which the feeder is hanging. However, there was a parade and field show going on underneath where I’d forgotten to hose down the patio.

Out come the Terro granules. When I first bought this economy-sized bag, the smell was so pervasive that I hesitated using it. But about this time each year, war is declared, and I don’t have any of the little packets of liquid left. The key to the granules is that they have to be wet to be effective. No problem today.

Ideally, the feeder would be suspended over a small pond. Lacking that, this will have to do.

While I complain about the heat this summer, on days when I have to turn on the a/c, the white noise cancels out everything else. And guess what. Several days are coming with forecasts up to the 90s and beyond.

It has resided in the pimento jar on my desk for several days. I haven’t been anxious to take a photo, thank to the vivid memory of a family member’s experience as he leaned in to shoot one years ago. His subject made a sudden move, prompting him to drop his camera.

As I was setting up, there was a loud buzzing on the window. A crane fly had somehow gotten in, and for a moment, I contemplated the obvious. But I took the fly outside. Which is where I will put this jar. Right now. (Now if it had been a housefly, that would have been different.)

Today, I assumed he was distracted by the missus, who dove in repeatedly as he tried to eat. But after a bit, I realized it was another male since both looked very much alike.

Now I find that whenever I go out to try for a shot, he darts away. Has this one chased the other away? Just as I got it tame enough to put up with my constant shooting? I won’t know for sure till I actually get a photo.

This is where the monstrous fern bought earlier this summer resides. It is thriving, mostly because it is big enough to have established its own microclime. Smaller ferns are encouraged by this, and are coming around. There used to be hostas, but they gave up years ago. A few pots of bamboo, some steppingstones. And, apparently, a kajillion ants, all lined up on the hose, ready to climb up my arms and legs.

Actually, I was prepared this afternoon. Not only for them but for the strange gnats that fly into the eyes. But I didn’t see the remains of the small bird underfoot until too late.

And so a little later than usual this season, I had the swarming-ants-on-the-person moment. Once safely in the house, I saw a leaf on my shirt that I tried to flick off.

Except it was a reddish spider of a kind I’d not seen before. After I screamed, I managed to get it in a jar. It actually played dead, and was hard to move because it had spun an obstacle around itself. Perhaps I will get a photo later. But then again, maybe not. It is suspended in the jar, looking sinister.

As if the ants have that much of a chance. The feeder is still hanging from a tomato cage in a pot with a struggling tomato plant. However, I took the trouble to put the pot in the pot bottom that my giant fern arrived in. This is filled with water. There is this moat and the moat built into the feeder itself.

Two of the younger members of the flock of dark-eyed juncos that empty the feeder on a twice/daily basis. They seem to make it their goal to deplete the supplies by nightfall.

Having gotten hundreds of shots of the bird from one side, I wanted it feeding from the other. In order to force it to eat from only one opening, I had to plug up the other holes. When it found short evergreen sprigs (closest things I could find that fit) emerging from these holes, it had a moment of surprise which I did not manage to film.

But the flybys, which sound like a giant bumblebee in your ear, might start up again as I get ready for some more shooting later in the afternoon when the light is not so harsh.

So how many things are wrong with this photo?

Yesterday afternoon he showed up and perched on a tomato cage. I haven’t been shooting hummingbirds very long, so this particular situation unnerved me. Usually, he bobs up and down at the feeder, then zooms away. That I can deal with.

He was distracted by his mate, I suspect, and looked as if he might raise that cap of iridescent feathers on top of his head any minute. And he kept on staying fairly still, showing me first one side, then the other, then straight on.

After a bit, I checked the camera display. Oops. Earlier, the feeder was in the shade, and all the settings were for that. By the time I corrected, he was deep into the feeder.

Overexposed. Dark shadow. The cage. The aphid at his feet. Not sharp enough.

I’m lucky he returns many times every day. For sure, I need the practice.

Less than a minute after I cleaned out the feeder and put fresh nectar in, he checked out the results.

We did make progress today. He allowed me to get within about two feet, and didn’t mind that I kept opening the screen door to go in and out. Still no sign of the missus today.

Friday, he was contorting his neck this way and that, fluffing up his body feathers, then lifted the ones on his head like a shiny cap. This seemed bizarre till I spotted the missus sitting primly off to the side. Aha! But so far, he is lord of the feeder, and nothing has tried to dispute his claim.