Birdorable Blogging Contest #2: Dawn Frary

Hello all, NBB here. Sharon is safely in Germany just now, waiting to travel to Kazakhstan tomorrow.

Today's entry is from Dawn Frary, Volunteer Owl Feeder and Wildlife Rehabilitator, Macbride Raptor Project. You can read more of her stuff at her wildlife rehabilitation blog: For the Birds.

Best. Rehab. Ever

Tonight was perhaps the best rehab session I’ve had so far in my volunteer-career as a wildlife rehabilitator.  I hadn’t rehabbed in the two weeks prior to tonight, and it felt great to get back in the flight cage and see how my feathered friends are doing.  Last Monday, I didn’t go out to the raptor center because I didn’t feel well and the week before I didn’t fly either bird because they both had additional injuries that were separate from their “regular” injuries (i.e. the injuries for which they are in the flight cage in the first place).  I didn’t want to agitate anything further so I let them be.  It looks like letting them rest was a good idea because they both were in fine form tonight.

My rehab accountrements: leather falconer gloves, rehab notebook, trusty pencil.

I began with the red tailed hawk, who I fully expected to be as much of a pain in the butt as he was last time I flew him.  If you will recall, I spent nearly an hour chasing him along the floor of the flight cage to no avail at all - he barely flew for me, so I put him back without completing his regimen of five perch-to-perches.  Tonight was completely different.  After catching him (which was the hardest part of the whole ordeal), he proceeded to give me his five perch-to-perch (P-P) flights plus an additional two P-Ps.  I felt like he and I were perfectly in sync and that he understood exactly what I wanted him to do.  He didn’t struggle while being held, and he didn’t put up a fight once I had caught him and was holding him.  His flying mechanics have improved greatly since the last time I worked with him, and he demonstrated a vast improvement in his landings.  I tried to offer him positive feedback and cheer him on while he was going through his exercises, which in my mind makes all the difference.  I completed his exercises in about 30 minutes, I think, and got him back in his cage safely and soundly.

The armpit biter great horned owl was up next.  Once he came down from his high perch on the wall, I caught him easily only to be bitten very hard on the left arm.  It left a tiny but very painful welt.  But, since I’m used to the sharp sting of his beak at this point, I got right to his wing stretches and then launched him into the air from the middle of the flight cage.  His flight had improved tremendously since our last session, as well.  His height, speed, glides, and landings were all those of a bird who was well on his way to being released back into the wild.  After being a resident of the MRP since early winter, I’m sure he is eager to get back to the woods and tell all his friends about the mean girl who made him fly back and forth inside a big cage.

The new kid: a Cooper's hawk was brought to the flight cage this week. He is under observation only for right now.

I was so thrilled after the rehab session that I literally jumped up and down afterward.  I was happy with the birds’ performances, but was also happy with myself for being what I felt was a very observant and patient rehabber.  I did not allow them to intimidate me, which I do sometimes because, well, they are large wild birds who are not happy about their current living situation and the fact that people in big leather gloves come into their space, corner them, grab them by the legs, and make them do flying exercises.

Sometimes it’s also easy to forget that there is a barrier between myself and these birds, and that barrier is called WILDNESS.  These birds, no matter now much I talk to them or anthropomorphosize them, are wild animals.  They want nothing to do with me.  When I’m holding them and looking into their eyes (from a mere six inches away) thinking about how amazing it is to be thisclose to a wild great horned owl, they are thinking, “I’d kill you right now if I could.”

It doesn’t bother me.  I signed up for this so I can’t complain about the bites or the birds’ blatant animosity toward my presence in their immediate space.  I am helping them, whether they know it (or like it) or not.  And tonight, I felt like the three of us - me, the hawk, and the owl - were all on the same page.  We danced.  I led.

They’ll thank me in the end.

I made two videos from today’s session, you can view them here and here.

Thanks, Dawn. Look for another entry tomorrow!

Cooper's Hawk Hairy Eyeball

By the time you guys are reading this, I'll be on a flight to Frankfurt and then on to Kazakhstan.  Be sure to watch the blog, I'll update if I have Internet access, but more importantly, we have some great submissions from guest bloggers. Maybe you will find someone with a great voice and eye for nature that you really enjoy.

This shot just makes me laugh.  It's a stick nest, but what' most noticeable to me is the giant orange eye of a Cooper's hawk glaring back at me as if to say, "Get the eff out here, biznatch, keep it moving.  Nothing to see here."

A Cooper's hawk pair is attempting to nest in Carver Park...right on one of the main trails.  Some hawks can take this, others cannot.  I figured, since the nest was right on the trail, (I mean you can literally walk right underneath the nest), that these hawks had made an informed decision. They would have had to notice during the nest building process that this was a well used trail and said, "Rock on, I can deal with people under my nest, they're not gonna give me any problems."

As I was taking photos of her from a distance, other passed me and walked right under the nest, the incubating bird flew and screamed.  Here's a video of the woods sounds like with her scolding:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qf7dL19GI6M[/youtube]

I stayed for about twenty minutes and moved on.  The bird should have been incubating, not scolding anyone along the path. I returned twenty minutes late and I could hear her off in the woods, still calling.  If she's that easily flushed on a well used trail, I'm not sure her eggs are going to get the incubation she needs.  It will be interesting to see if this nest is successful.

Birdorable Guest Blogging Contest #1: Callae Frazier

NBB here. Sharon's heading off to Kazakhstan today as part of a special project for Swarovski Optik and Birdlife International, which means that it's time to begin the Birdorable Guest Blogging contest.

Our first entry is from Callae Frazier, who describes her entry as: It's an avian-related personal narrative that takes place at my childhood home in the Colorado foothills where nearly every window looks out on a bird feeder

Sky Windows

Smack! Thump.

The sound, sudden and unmistakable, resonates down the hall, through open doorways and anyone in the house familiar with it looks up, startled.  Sometimes, the echo seems to move through even the walls.  I’ve heard an impact resonate from the front of the ranch-style house to my back bedroom. More often I am in the kitchen, or living room, or study, all near the front of the house and closer to the most often hit windows.  Windows that look out on some of the busiest bird feeders among the nearly dozen seed stations set up around the house.  Clear, wide windows that birds occasionally mistake for open, wide sky.

Smack! Thump.

Dozens of species visit the area, many stay year-round.  Palm-sized, chipper, ashy mountain chickadees, with their little black caps and eye stripes and chins are fairly ubiquitous.  Ground-feeding juncos, all varieties, all stocky and stout, also spend most of the year pecking about the ground under feeders, in the driveway, or on the platform feeders.  Bullet-shaped nuthatches, white-breasted, red-breasted, and their tiny compact cousins the pygmy’s, “yank, yank, yank” their arrival at the feeder.  House finches, goldfinches, pine siskens sing their melodious, waterfall-garbled song from high atop trees before swooping down and joining the others. Orangy-red male and yellow female crossbills pass through occasionally, their high-pitched, “kip-kip-kip” calls foreshadowing their arrival.  They sit upright on the hanging feeders, and I must check, and double-check their oddly formed bills every time, marveling at how the upper mandible literally crosses over the lower one.  Winter flocks of hand-sized, yellow-bellied, thick-billed evening grosbeaks provide a bright spot of color against a snow and dark pine backdrop. Still larger birds visit as well. Mohawked, Stellar’s jays bully juncos from the driveway, and chickadees from the platform feeders with their large bodies, and raucous calls.  We know summer has arrived when the quiet mourning doves arrive in the drive, delicately pecking seeds.  The surrounding diverse sliver of habitat in a life zone typically reserved for lodgepole pine entices the birds.  And the birds entice me.

My mom tells the story of how, even when I was a little girl I loved to sit in the elevated, recessed, bench next to the entryway and watch birds for hours out the bay window.  We call the space our “window box” on account of its boxy, rectangular shape.  The window looks out on a wide, multi-level wrap around deck and I look out at birds on the platform feeder attached to the deck railing.  When young, I asked for the names of birds all the time.  Mom knew them all, and by the time I started first grade I knew my colors, letters and numbers along with the names for chickadee, nuthatch, jay and junco.  I knew that chickadees’ nasaly call sounded like their name, “chick-a-dee-dee-dee.”  My parents adopted the chickadee’s clear two-note, descending minor-third whistle, “fee-bee”, as a way to find each other in a busy space, or to get each other’s attention.  Of all the multitudes of books in the house, The Golden Guide to Birds was one I could always find on the full shelves.  Before I could write, I made up stories, sitting there in the window.  Mom listened, and committed my words to paper.  Sealed in envelopes, my words flew thousands of miles away to my Grandparents in a silver-winged bird.

Thwap!

A flutter of anticipation begins when the sound reverberates down the hall.  Approaching the window box, I search out the only sign of trauma - a bit of feathers stuck to the glass.  Pressing my face to the smooth, cool surface of the window sometimes allows me to see the tiny, feathered thing on the deck below.  The dogs, curious, will hop up the bench with me.  Their warm breath fogs up my view.  I’ve learned to leave them inside when I investigate.  They sometimes mouth stunned birds and inadvertently finish off the job.  I hold them at the front door with my knees, and slip out between jostling bodies and lolling tongues.  There, on the brown deck, I most often find a grey chickadee or dark-headed junco lying spread-legged, wings outstretched.  Larger grosbeaks and deep blue, black-crowned jays are other common casualties of our windows.

Surprisingly, for the number of windows in the house (over 40), and the number of birds who have found our land an invaluable food source over the years (hundreds), remarkably few have perished.  After smacking into the windows they fall to the ground more often only stunned.  I gently scoop up the lightweight bundles, cupping their small warmth in my hand.  They breathe so fast.  Little chests heaving up and down.  Heavily lidded eyes, glazed with shock, do not acknowledge me.  Their heartbeat pounds furiously into my palm.  It is as though they go into a kind of coma, their brain and neurons checking and rechecking the stunned body.  I like to believe my hands provide them shelter and warmth.  A miniature recovery room.  A little patience, careful watching, and suddenly the “on” switch clicks.  Small glassy eyes brighten, drooping wings straighten, an alert head rises, cocks, looks about.  I hardly exhale then, waiting to see how long they will stay.

The stunned birds never fly far.  Sometimes they make it to the wide, flat bird feeder attached to the railing.  Maybe they rest there a while.  Often they dip into the plethora of seeds at their feet.  Within moments they fight off other feeders come to the feast.  I stand mere feet away, and trace the invisible impression of wing strokes crossing delicately across my palm.  Sometimes I can find small pinprick depressions where their claws pressed down.

Thwack!

I know right away if the window-smacked birds are dead.  There is something unmistakable about a dead thing.  The way the neck bends loosely, the closed eyes, sometimes a drop of blood at the base of the delicate, grey beak. The stillness.

When I was very young my parents helped me bury birds knocked off by windows.  We dug a shallow grave out in small area west of the garden.  A place that today holds bones of several well-loved pets.  I probably covered the little mound with a rock.  Felt perhaps a little sad.  But I also found the streamlined shape, soft feathers, and the delicate lightness of the little body fascinating.  A dead bird gave me a chance to see the normally fluttery critters up close.

Later, feeling silly for making bird graves, I walked some distance into the woods, and tossed them into a bush.  Something would find and eat them.  Maybe a crow or fox.  Hopefully not our indoor/outdoor cat who had a habit of bringing dead things into the house, leaving them as surprising gifts on beds, or by doors.  I might also take the dead birds and deposit them deep in the compost pile where they would slowly decompose, adding their nutrients to the existing combination of vegetable parts, egg shells, coffee grounds, plant trimmings, and hay.  Yes, I know you aren’t supposed to include meat in your compost, but when I was young I hardly considered the small flesh of birds an inappropriate addition to the compost.

In late August, when I made my regular round of plucking fresh snacks in the low, golden light of the autumn garden, I wouldn’t remember the birds I buried in the compost a year or two before.  But they’d be there.

There, in the squat carrots I’d wrest from the soil, barely wiping the soil free on my jeans before chomping down the crisp earthy sweetness.  Or there, in the round burst of sugar peas on my tongue as I popped them into my mouth one, by one.  Pop, pop, pop.  Their presence would be found in the meaty muscle of turnips and potatoes dug out of the soil with my bare hands.  The invisible bits of birds who once mistook a clear wide window for clear open sky.

Last Minute Notes

Of course a bunch of cool items are coming in as I'm trying to leave town! One being that golden eagle that my buddy Mark Martell tagged a golden eagle that was injured (by one of those AWFUL leg hold traps--can we please ban those, I'm okay with hunting, but leg hold traps suck, both for the intended and unintended victims like birds of prey).

Anyway, the golden eagle recovered at The Raptor Center and fitted with a transmitter to see where it breeds.  For awhile there was some concern because he spent quite a bit of time in Wisconsin, but he's on his way now!  Check out his travel map:

This bird has been all over the place!  You don't see it marked on this map, but in early April he went down into Iowa and the spent a week or two in Wisconsin. Then it went up near Duluth, down back into Iowa, back into Minnesota and then into Canada.  Where will this bird end up and where will he breed?  I can't wait to find out!

Speaking of banded birds, I got an update on a banded trumpeter swan that I digiscoped during the winter:

David Hoffman of the Iowa DNR sent me an email today that read, "Red 1H8 is a 2004 hatch year Female from Lincoln Park Zoo (Chicago).  Released at Beaver Valley Wetlands 3 NW of Cedar Falls, IA in 2005."

That was cool to learn!

I'm currently trying to load all of the Birdwatch Radios that I've missed so I can listen to them on the plane (apparently, I'm on one of them) regardless, I really enjoy listening to Steve Moore's interviews.

I also learned that the 100th Edition of I and the Bird is about to happen! It's going to be hosted by The Drinking Bird on the Nature Blog Network blog on May 14, 2009!

Mike Bergin, the founder describes I and the Bird as the blog carnival devoted to wild birds and birding. A biweekly showcase of the best bird writing on the web celebrates the interaction of human and avian.

Write a great post then send the link and a brief summary of the post to Mike (mike AT 10000birds DOT com) or Nate (naswick AT gmail DOT com) by May 12. Then, when Nate publishes his historic edition on May 14, visit and link from your blog. It's that easy, and fun to boot.

Hey, if you enjoyed the waxwing post from earlier, check out Minnesota Birdnerd's photos of banding waxwings are Carver Park, it's very sweet. And speaking of banding, I surprised the Friday banding crew at Carpenter Nature Center by showing up for banding the day before I leave for Kazakhstan.  Yes, I should have been packing, but it's spring migration and when I missed this date last year (because of the World Series of Birding), I missed cool stuff like indigo buntings...and I wasn't disappointed today.

I also needed to go because if I think about where I'm going too much, I kind of freak out.  I've read about Kazakhstan and have always wanted to go, so when this opportunity came my way to go with Swarovski to see the work they are doing with BirdLife International for the sociable lapwing (a fancy killdeer), I could not say no.  But odd things hit me (and I'm sure part of it is the great bio I'm reading at the moment called Life List) like, this is the furthest distance I have ever been from Non Birding Bill since I met him in 1994.  I've been out of the country, but not this far out of the country.  It's odd to think that I'll be on the other side of the planet from him.  So, going through my routine keeps me from freaking out with excitement and nervousness.

And I wasn't disappointed with banding today.  We actually got in a male indigo bunting!  This male is still has some brown and has not quite molted into his breeding plumage, but boy is he still a cool looking bird. It's interesting that up here, when these birds first return in the spring, you can see them at bird feeders eating white millet, Nyjer, and sunflower hearts.  However, once the insects are out in full force, they don't visit feeding stations as often. It's always a treat to see one of these birds.

We had so many goldfinches int he nets, that I lost count of how many we banded.  At one point, there was just a big group of them on the table to be processed.  It seems like the males have turned bright yellow overnight.  When I first approached the net to take out the above male goldfinch, I heard a familiar chipping noise.  I looked down to find...

...a common yellowthroat.  I took the yellowthroat, while my more experienced friend Jen took the higher goldfinch.  It was fun to see warbler up close again.

I fun surprise in the net was this Harris sparrow.  Just a few weeks ago I was in Oklahoma watching flock of Harris sparrows (still molting into their breeding plumage), I wondered if this guy came up through Minnesota? After handling warblers and goldfinches, this bird felt really robust in my hand.  And I suddenly realized how big this bird is when Jim Fitzpatrick was at the table banding a rose-breasted grosbeak and it took the same band size as this Harris sparrow!

And speaking of banding grostbeaks, what bander's day is complete without the skin splitting cardinal?  This female was originally banded last year and she's out for revenge.  She nailed me several times, even after I finished reading her band number.  I took her outside, opend my fingers to let her fly away and she gave me one last hard chomp before taking off.  One of the other banders got a great laugh out of it.  Always happy to provide comic relief.

As I was out and about, I noticed that catbirds were back at Carpenter in full force, many were practcing their territory songs.  They were mimicing, but not quite as well as they could have.  I wondered if these were males getting their songs ready to impress the females.  Here's one, and you will also hear the "meow" sound that the birds are famous for:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XqtigoZ6NBg[/youtube]

The same catbird flew to another perch and you could clearly see it was banded.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cYOMpgawd4[/youtube]

The bird was singing in an area near the orchard where we have nets set up. They seem to be the most productive in the late summer and early fall--especially when young catbirds are learning to fly.  I wondered if this was a male that hatched last year and is practicing his song to attempt breeding?  Tough to say without actually reading the band.

Okay, I seriously need to get down to packing.

Carolina Wren Foils Lawn Care

Don't forget that there is still time to enter the Birdorable Guest Blogging Contest.  Below are some photos and story that are an example of a fun blog entry.

My sister Robin and her husband Roger who live in Indiana sent me some cute photos from their garage.  Robin wrote,"Three weeks ago Roger went in the shed to get the hand spreader and behold, someone was making a nest."

"The next week, the nest was huge and there were two eggs; the following week an additional two eggs for a total of 4.  They were the size of peanut m & ms."

"Then Roger saw the mama sitting on the nest.  It is a Wren!  How cute she is.  Thought you might like to take a look.  Needless to say, Roger is using the larger spreader this year!  Can't wait to see the babies. "

Thanks, Robin, for sending your sister some great blog material!  I love that last photo--the Carolina wren totally looks like it's saying, "Don't mess with me, buster!"

Never fear, little wren, you are in safe hands.

Singing Pine Siskin

So, I think Mr. Neil has pine siskins nesting around his yard, they've stuck around and have been singing their territory song all spring.  I love how like a house wren, they are a tiny bird with a loud crazy song.  I got video of one singing here (you'll also hear a buttload of goldfinches singing in the background): [youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUzTlV1dCWA[/youtube]

Distracting Cedar Waxwings

Tonight is Birds and Beers at Coon Rapids Dam Regional Park--with maybe a little bird banding.  Should be awesome with all the migrants around. Starts at 6pm. Birds and Beers is an informal gathering of birders of all abilities to mildly interested to hardcore.  It's a way to get together and talk some birds.  Normally, we meet in a pub, but migration is so awesome, we're meeting outside...and Coon Rapids does allow alcohol if you would like to BYOB.

A huge flock of cedar waxwings have descended upon my neighborhood.  It started at dawn yesterday, I sat up in bed and Non Birding Bill asked, "What's wrong?"

"Waxwings," I groggily replied, "they're everywhere, hear them?"

"That sound is a bird?"

And they've been covering the trees and using puddles on the surrounding apartment buildings for birdbaths.  They were using the one that was further away, but I set my scope and camera over towards the pool that's closest to my window (it's the puddle that the Cooper's hawk used a couple of years ago).

And sure enough, just as I was about to hop on my bike for a lunch meeting, all the waxwings finally came down to the puddle in good light.  I decided to be late and get a few shots--look at them, it's like a bunch of tarted up female cardinals.  I took a video and you can hear the waxwings, a robin, my cockatiel, and my fingers typing a text message to my friend telling him that I'm going to be late to our lunch because of the waxwing photo opportunity:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBBcqu1KHhk[/youtube]

I wondered why the waxwings kept avoiding this particular pond and if you noticed in the video, they all took off as if startled by something?  Well, here's the reason why:

This male robin was not happy with anyone using this puddle.  He chased off house sparrows, the waxwings, and other robins.  His nest must be near it.  I'll be curious to see if he tries to chase off that Cooper's hawk if she decides to use it again.

New Bee Package Adventures

Our bee crew with substitutes headed out to our hives to welcome our four new packages of bees. We started with the Wendy hive, above is the Queen Wendy in her cage (with a worker on my thumb).  We we hive the packages, we spray the packages with sugar water, bonk the box so all the workers fall to the bottom, remove the feeder can, spray a bit more, take out the queen cage, make sure she is alive, put her in a pocket, dump the bees in the hive, remove the queen from your pocket, spray her, open her cage and release her into the hive, carefully put in all of the frames, put on the ceiling, put in the sugar water feeder and pollen patty, and close up the hive.

Here's a video of the newly installed Wendy hive checking out all of the new frames to build comb and raise the next generation of workers (I recommend clicking the HQ aka high quality button:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYsckIIWLhQ[/youtube]

After successfully installing the Wendy hive, we moved on to the Juliet hive.

All went well with this hive, but we did notice a wee bit of bonking from these girls as we were pouring them in. Bees are supposed to be fairly docile when you get new packages.  They are in swarm mode--they have been moved from their old home with no comb or brood and they are focused on finding a new home not defending a home.

Hans took a picture of a bee angrily buzzing on his hood and even though it's blurry, you can still see the stinger coming out.  I don't want to start off on the wrong foot with a hive, but I wonder if the pretty pink Juliet hive will not be so friendly as we do our first bee inspections?

Most of the bees that come our bee suits are pretty low key.  These are bees on Merry's suit.  They were more after old honey residue and sugar water on our suits than actually climbing around looking for a place to sting. Although, I think Hans would disagree.  Here's a video of me pouring in the Yvaine hive bees, most go in, but you can hear Hans say, "Stop bonking me." There's also a very angry bee coming up to attack the camera:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UON395ruFwk&feature=channel[/youtube]

When I was pouring the bees into the last hive, we got a tad rushed.  It started out sunny, but then it suddenly clouded over and it started to rain, I wanted to keep our girls dry.  As I rushed, I felt something on my foot--a small clump of bees fell on my shoe. I suddenly regretted my lax attitude about the bees' mood during hiving, bees crawled over my turkey vulture socks and I decided not to walk right away so I wouldn't irritate them into stinging.  They eventually flew off and it was all good.

The bees in all hives were ravenous!  Even though there's a feeder can, they were licking anything with sugar water on it.  Here are two bees frantically licking sugar water that had coated a very dead and very old bee--yuck.  There was even a moment when we were at the Hannah hive, about to release the queen and she pointed to my gloved hand. There was a tight cluster of five bees surrounding another--I gulped hard.  Was this a queen from another hive??  No, it turned out to be just a very sugar coated worker that was getting a good lick down from the other workers.

Whew.  But there was more queen drama to follow.

After successfully installing the previous three queens, I didn't worry too much about the final Hannah queen. I opened her cage and instead of her crawling out onto the frame, she opted to try and fly away--Hans captured the moment.  Because she is heavy and full of eggs, she flew very slow.  I slowly followed with my hands to get her to follow me and then two other workers flew on her and she sank like a stone to the bottom of the hive.  I'm sure the workers were just attracted by her pheromones, but it looked like they were saying, "Oh no you don't  there Bessie, you're stayin'!"

We carefully put the frames back in and closed her up before too much rain got in the hive.

After the hiving, I waited for the rain to pass and then headed into the woods to do some birding.  As the day got later, I headed towards the hives to see what was going on.  I set up my digiscoping equipment so I could watch them from a safe distance.  Almost all of the hives had removed the leaves blocking the entrance (it's supposed to stay there the first day to encourage them to accept the hives.  Bees were coming and going from the entrance.  Watching them, it looked like quite a few workers were flying around and orienting themselves to the new home so they know where home is when they go out to forage.  Some were bees who got lost in the hiving and now have to see if they can get accepted into one of the hives, I'm sure they will work it out.

And so it begins, a fresh bee season.  Here's a video of the Yvaine hive workers milling about the entrance of their new homes:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Yko6dEGvgU[/youtube]

Welcome girls.

Challenges Faced During Spring Bee Hiving 2009

I got the call from Lorraine on Tuesday morning...our bees had arrived at the post office. And there were some serious challenges to start our day.  Number one: I couldn't get out the door, emails to deal with and then a radio interview that involved me using the phrase "cloaca will un-engorge."

The other challenge for me was that the migration floodgates had opened and birds were pouring.  Large numbers of rose-breasted grosbeaks covered Mr. Neil's yard and I could hear pine warblers all over the place.  I had to focus on bees, not birds.  It was harder than usual because I'm leaving this weekend for Kazakhstan and that is going to be way cool, but I'll miss the big migration waves while I'm away, so I need to soak up what I can.

Another big challenge was that when I arrived, Lorraine was just not herself.  It was clear that she was not feeling well.  Poor thing appeared to be coming down with a migraine.  She really wanted to help, but her body was screaming, "Go to a dark place.  Rest. Don't play with a boxes containing thousands of confused bees in the bright sun."

Bless her  heart, she tried to put up a brave front, but as I made nectar and pollen patties to feed our newly arrived guests, she realized her health took precedence.  We drove her home and Mr. Neil's groundskeeper Hans and housekeeper Merry offered to pitch in (above). I told Lorraine not to worry, this was just the shipment of our Minnesota Hygienic Bees, chances were good that our order of Russian Bees would arrive while I am away in Kazakhstan and she'll have to hive those without me.

I always assume people are like me when it comes to working with wild creatures--you want to do as much of the experience as possible.  I asked both Merry and Hans if they wanted to do any part of this, especially what I think are the fun parts like dumping the bees into the new hive or releasing the queen. Both said no and sensibly wanted to avoid killing the new queen.  But they were incredibly helpful--Hans (above in a forced pose with one of our new queens) did a majority of the heavy lifting.  He made sure to have all the hives set up before arrival and he took quite a few of the photos and videos of the hiving.

Merry (kneeling above) had the important job of keeping me on task--despite all the warblers and vireos singing overhead.  She held onto the hiving instructions and made sure I did everything in order.  She was like a skillful nurse aiding a surgeon, hand me tools when I needed them and making sure we had all of the equipment when we went to each hive.  It was a good team and we systematically installed each hive without any major snafus.

As I understand it, Non Birding Bill and Mr. Neil went through a book of baby names (and I suspect Mr. Neil's body of work) to come up with names for our hives, rather than naming them after people we know (it's too hard to deliver the news, "Hey, your hive died.").  We started naming the hives after a blog reader suggested it and it's easier to say, "Hannah hive is ready for harvest" as opposed to "yellow hive is ready for harvest."

The first hive names are Hannah, Yvaine, Juliet, and Wendy.  Of course, now that I look at the names, I can picture them from movies and books:  Hannah, will she be all Woody Allen and neurotic?  Yvaine--will she be a cranky fairy?  Juliet--will she be an impetuous teenager, ready for suicide when her love dies?  Wendy--will she pine away for a slightly efiminet flying boy who refuses to grow up?

We'll have to see...

More soon, I need to shower.