I used to see pileated woodpeckers in Matawan, and I've seen them here in the PNW. But the one I see and hear most here is the flicker. I have a stainless chimney from an old water heater sticking out of the roof. The local flicker has found that it's a great amplifier for his hammering. Unfortunately, the pipe leads right through my bedroom closet!
I think you met the chillest bluebird in the history of bluebirds. All the bluebirds I ever meet flaunt their blue at me & get going on to the next thing — I can’t believe you met one who wanted to hang.
When you posted this pic on Instagram, you said something about the bluebird of happiness, which forever will be associated for me with “fly right up your asshole,” because that’s what my Dad used to say. “May the bluebird of happiness fly right up your asshole.”
I was going to respond with something referring to this no doubt well-known aphorism when for some reason I decided to check and googled “May the bluebird of happiness fly right up your asshole.” And it turns out my Dad may have been the only person alive — now dead — ever to have said that phrase. (Until now, when people can google it and find it all over your Substack.)
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I love your bird posts and feel free to have no restraint whatsoever as far as I’m concerned.
Reader from Philly here... can confirm that we immediately sense fear! A healthy, reciprocal respect is one thing, but haters operating from a deep well of unsubstantiated terror would do better to stay the fuck out.
People are constantly warning me of the dangers of birding alone. It's what those people do. But here I am, still alive at 72 after birding alone, with my camera, sometimes after dark, in lots of big cities, and camping alone many times in national forests, wildlife refuges, and other remote spots. We all die eventually. Until then, we might as well live doing what we love rather than cowering in fear.
Delightful. Woodpeckers are glorious. Many thanks.
I used to see pileated woodpeckers in Matawan, and I've seen them here in the PNW. But the one I see and hear most here is the flicker. I have a stainless chimney from an old water heater sticking out of the roof. The local flicker has found that it's a great amplifier for his hammering. Unfortunately, the pipe leads right through my bedroom closet!
Sorry about your bridge troll. Here's ours. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fremont_Troll
I think you met the chillest bluebird in the history of bluebirds. All the bluebirds I ever meet flaunt their blue at me & get going on to the next thing — I can’t believe you met one who wanted to hang.
When you posted this pic on Instagram, you said something about the bluebird of happiness, which forever will be associated for me with “fly right up your asshole,” because that’s what my Dad used to say. “May the bluebird of happiness fly right up your asshole.”
I was going to respond with something referring to this no doubt well-known aphorism when for some reason I decided to check and googled “May the bluebird of happiness fly right up your asshole.” And it turns out my Dad may have been the only person alive — now dead — ever to have said that phrase. (Until now, when people can google it and find it all over your Substack.)
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I love your bird posts and feel free to have no restraint whatsoever as far as I’m concerned.
Thanks for the shout-out, Thomas! (And for spreading the word about Funny Birds! Amazing film.)
That short film was too sweet! I absolutely loved it ❤️
Reader from Philly here... can confirm that we immediately sense fear! A healthy, reciprocal respect is one thing, but haters operating from a deep well of unsubstantiated terror would do better to stay the fuck out.
A Pileated Woodpecker flew through my back yard a year or so ago and I immediately thought "pterodactyl."
Glad you booted the troll.
Your Terminate Hate shirt gave me joy all day, and yeah, I have no patience for that crap, either.
That bluebird! 🥰🥰🥰 Incredible.
People are constantly warning me of the dangers of birding alone. It's what those people do. But here I am, still alive at 72 after birding alone, with my camera, sometimes after dark, in lots of big cities, and camping alone many times in national forests, wildlife refuges, and other remote spots. We all die eventually. Until then, we might as well live doing what we love rather than cowering in fear.
I love the all birds posts! I also love the downies best, although the pileated are more majestic of course.
My 14 yo would be disappointed that you didn’t go with your original title 😂