July 25, 2026

Where: Huntley Meadows Park

When: 9:30 am

Bird Species: northern cardinal, mourning dove, tufted titmouse, eastern wood pewee, white-breasted nuthatch, Canada goose, great egret, barn swallow, downy woodpecker, eastern bluebird, common yellowthroat, red-winged blackbird

Things I Thought About:

• In a concerted effort to get out of my own head I am meeting two friends out here today. They are both late. I have missed most of the bird activity today, but I am being a good sport about it.
• Everyone's personal life is in the shitter, has anyone else noticed this.
• I am usually on my way out this time of day, and it is about as busy as I ever see it out here. There are many families coming in with toddlers on foot. There will be screaming later, and a lot of time being carried. I cannot imagine why someone might think a toddler can toddle a 1.8 mile loop without bringing wheels.

• I haven't spoken to one friend since I took my current job, and I will be embarrassed to catch her up on how I feel about that decision.
• All of my conversations about professional matters are complicated by my total lack of ambition. Women with a steady career progression find me very frustrating. I have no career goals whatsoever except to feel safe from wolves at the door. If Old Navy would pay me $70K to fold sweaters, I'd jump at it. I'd never get bored. I have a lot of interests.

• One of my other guests for the boardwalk tour today is a very cute redheaded one-year old in a stroller. He is fully asleep with his arms folded behind his head. It looks pretty good.
• I have surrendered the idea that it is my personal responsibility to make sure the birds put on a good show when I have company on bird walks. Good thing, too, since it's very quiet today.

• I am called out for frowning sadly at the Canada goose foursome that is hanging out near the first pond. I am convinced that this is the family of the goose that got taken by the turtle, and they definitely did leave that damaged little guy, who I have not seen in a while, to fend for themselves. This is of course an outrageous case of anthropomorphism. You cannot blame a goose for acting like a goose, but whenever I see these four hanging out, I wonder if they're sad sometimes, remembering that there used to be another one of them.
• They might, you know. Geese can remember a few things, routes and landmarks, and, specifically, past threats, for up to a year. So, when I see this family of four, laying up quietly on the same patch they retreated to the day of the fight, they may also be wondering how the third gosling got along without them.
• I kind of suspect that every creature has memory, and that all of them can grieve. It's regret and shame that are exclusively human, I think.

BOTD: Eastern bluebird. They are married.

That was really the only photo that really sparked something for me when I downloaded them. I hardly took any today, consumed with conversation and feeling a little more crowded and rushed than usual, but I looked up and saw these two, in a place where the sun shone through a break in the canopy, and took this single shot of them. They were pretty far away and on the move, so I didn't have time to dial in the focus, but I like it anyway.