Red Hat Society, Inspired by the Hummingbird?
Scribbled notes, “red head, iridescent purple-blue back, Indian Paint Brush.”
Translated: “Anna’s Hummingbird on an Indian Paintbrush!”
Many folks come here for birds. They check off Audubon bird-counts, hoping to see the PRIZE, the rare and wily Himalayan Partridge. Here’s a picture!
If they can mark that one they’ve made a real score.
This hike we didn’t see the Partridge, but I did spot another bird, a beautiful jewel on an Indian Paintbrush.
Hiking up the stock trail to Lamoille Lake at a particular switchback near a bubbling stream we leave the trail, and head up to a small valley. A glacier gouged out this depression eons ago leaving a lot of small ponds. The wet, mossy ground is carpeted with Elephanthead, Orchid, Shooting Star, Tiny Saxifrage, and Swamp Laurel. Little growing things edge small brooks and moss-covered rocks, everything in miniature.
Reminds me of the delightful ride, “Story Book Land” that used to be in Disneyland. In a rowboat you’d wind in canals through a miniature countryside. Tiny boats tied to little docks, mossy rock cottages, landscaped with very small plants, peopled by characters from the “Mother West Wind Why Stories.” I loved that ride, but that was a few years ago. It’s a roller coaster of some sort now.
This year the valley is wet everywhere. Charming ponds edged with plants that like wet, swampy spots. A few Whitebark Pines are home to Horned Larks and Robins.
And, hummingbirds!
While I’m sitting in the sun an Anna’s Hummingbird whistles by my ear headed for an Indian Paintbrush not far from where I’m sitting.
Hummingbirds are difficult to identify. Every time I hike I hear that hummingbird whistle. When they whiz past your head they’re hard to see, but you can hear the characteristic whistle. And sometimes two males fight directly above you, whistling back and forth, bombing each other, defending a territory only they see.
But this day the tiny bird, a quarter the size of a Robin, hovered with his needle bill in the Mountain Paintbrush not far from where I sat. With jerky movements and blurring wings he remained for a couple of minutes feeding, his purple back flashing in the sun. He’d picked a particularly tall and colorful Paintbrush with bright red bracts.
“When I am an old woman I will wear purple with a red hat!” We’ve taken some of them on tour, too. The Red Hat ladies! Fun group!
Translated: “Anna’s Hummingbird on an Indian Paintbrush!”
Many folks come here for birds. They check off Audubon bird-counts, hoping to see the PRIZE, the rare and wily Himalayan Partridge. Here’s a picture!
If they can mark that one they’ve made a real score.
This hike we didn’t see the Partridge, but I did spot another bird, a beautiful jewel on an Indian Paintbrush.
Hiking up the stock trail to Lamoille Lake at a particular switchback near a bubbling stream we leave the trail, and head up to a small valley. A glacier gouged out this depression eons ago leaving a lot of small ponds. The wet, mossy ground is carpeted with Elephanthead, Orchid, Shooting Star, Tiny Saxifrage, and Swamp Laurel. Little growing things edge small brooks and moss-covered rocks, everything in miniature.
Reminds me of the delightful ride, “Story Book Land” that used to be in Disneyland. In a rowboat you’d wind in canals through a miniature countryside. Tiny boats tied to little docks, mossy rock cottages, landscaped with very small plants, peopled by characters from the “Mother West Wind Why Stories.” I loved that ride, but that was a few years ago. It’s a roller coaster of some sort now.
This year the valley is wet everywhere. Charming ponds edged with plants that like wet, swampy spots. A few Whitebark Pines are home to Horned Larks and Robins.
And, hummingbirds!
While I’m sitting in the sun an Anna’s Hummingbird whistles by my ear headed for an Indian Paintbrush not far from where I’m sitting.
Hummingbirds are difficult to identify. Every time I hike I hear that hummingbird whistle. When they whiz past your head they’re hard to see, but you can hear the characteristic whistle. And sometimes two males fight directly above you, whistling back and forth, bombing each other, defending a territory only they see.
But this day the tiny bird, a quarter the size of a Robin, hovered with his needle bill in the Mountain Paintbrush not far from where I sat. With jerky movements and blurring wings he remained for a couple of minutes feeding, his purple back flashing in the sun. He’d picked a particularly tall and colorful Paintbrush with bright red bracts.
“When I am an old woman I will wear purple with a red hat!” We’ve taken some of them on tour, too. The Red Hat ladies! Fun group!
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