mar 4
March, you cruel month, with your allusions to warmer times and intimations of brighter futures, you can not keep me down. You may keep me inside, even strand me there, but I have found a way out, despite having lost all energies for battling snow and wind chills and the desperation brought on by the paucity of all things interesting. No, Mom, I am not drinking too much. There is something about a long Northeastern winter that precludes such excesses – my wells are simply too deep for that, and those depths are scary. No, I have my own psychochemicals: a set of bird feeders, a picture window, some watercolors, and exquisite, perfectly formed Kolinsky sable brushes.
I have color back again, and have decided that other than random physical mishaps and frailty, and the occasional social gaffe, I am, for the time being, pretty much invincible. In my own head, anyway, and in a modest context, I have found a realm sublimated between a small room and a large window.
The thing is, though, that the scenarios that unfold before me through days of intense feeder gazing are not exactly idyllic. While I can easily achieve a Zen-like calm watching the flittings and the comings and goings (especially with a cup of tea and the radiator on my left), it doesn’t take much more than simple empathy to realize that birds are very serious about food in winter. The constant visits to the seed and suet are marked with frenetic energy, complex patterns of arrival, sudden emergency departures, and many, many high traffic encounters.
I have become particularly fascinated by inter-species interactions, and the ensuing hierarchies and opportunism. There is an awful lot of squabbling that goes on at a winter feeder, especially in the frenzies before a storm or after a snowfall has obliterated other food sources. Larger birds with bigger bills have the bullying advantage, obviously, and anyone with a feeder develops a snide dislike of House Sparrows, and perhaps less so but also of House Finches, with their sedentary ways at a feeder hole and their mob numbers. When the (potentially hundreds) of Common Grackles arrive, it feels almost apocalyptic. These observations are pretty basic, but ah, the subtleties around this are where things start to get really interesting.
I have to confess, I have spent much more time out in the field than at bird feeders. My own 14th floor aerie is completely unsuitable for this activity, and it took a concerted effort for me to visit one and force myself to sit still – an effort spurred largely by a commissioned drawing of said birds. Now I am completely addicted. From watching the savvy of the Black-capped Chickadees to starting to understand a larger picture of the webs of interactions across a whole day’s worth of feeding – the material is enough for a thesis, or a body of work, which is what I am doing now. Watching a White-breasted Nuthatch rear up, wings outstretched, dagger bill pulled back and pointed downward (exactly, and I mean exactly, looking like a Cobra) to fend off two idly perched House Sparrows, was like witnessing a righteous coup. The scene had seemed so innocuous – two fluffy sparrows on a branch, inching towards the feeder, one nuthatch, ahead in the line but much flightier. Then, in an incredible flash, rebellion and violence – and for once the nuthatch got to park itself at the food source.
There is so much more, in this tiny world, than meets the impatient eye. The symbiotic feeding between disparate species of birds (and the less peaceable kingdom behavior of closer competitors), and the arrival and timing patterns of different types of birds (the long swoop of the Tufted Titmouse vs. the skulking approach from the ground floor upwards of a White-throated Sparrow) are apparent to anyone who watches a feeder, or knows a little about the feeding habits of different birds. What I am floored by is the element of change and chaos in these patterns, and by the visual (visceral) reactions that I have to all of it. I now know the differences in structure and even coloration between a male and female Carolina wren, through drawing and watching. I can time an in-flight photograph (better, anyway) for different species, knowing how they tend to approach and retreat. I am insatiable for more understanding of things so seemingly insignificant.
Images, above, from top to bottom:
Carolina Wren studies, ink and watercolor on paper
Black-capped Chickadees in flight, ink and watercolor on paper
Red-bellied Woodpecker/Black-capped Chickadee, ink and watercolor on paper
Images below:
details of Carolina Wren studies
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Such beautiful work – and so engagingly described. Am so glad to have been sent the link.
I am not sure what stuns me more–your extraordinary writing or the astonishing beauty of your drawings. They lift right out of the monitor into my heart and imagination. You have been blessed with amazing gifts~thank you for sharing them.
So glad to see you posting again – missed the lyricism of your writing and the impressions and washes of your brush – and March – yes dreary, but with the promise of life. And today for what seems the first time in weeks, there was blue sky in the background of the bare trees.
I hope the last couple of days change your view of March, or at least this March. I was watching, and listening (it was chittering at us) to, a Carolina in Prospect Park last week, and your work captures the bird very well! Lovely.
These are simply exquisite, Catherine. They have such a delicacy to them from your lovely touches of paint.
I finally got a chance to admire your gallery on the Cornell Lab site. Amazing, of course! I’m glad I can say I’ve been a fan of your art since your original blog.
Such lovely work…do you sell your pieces? Peace…
What delightful bird sketches! …. and the words too. I noticed your wonderful chickens when they were first posted and have been hoping to see more of your art. This batch is wonderful!
I don’t think I’ve ever seen watercolor done with such an eye for detail!! Your Carolina wrens & Red-bellies are beautifully done and spot-on accurate.
Is your work available for purchase?
Thank you all for the very kind comments. To answer a few questions, I have works available, and am open for both visits and email inquiries. My email address: [myfirstname]ATmydogoscar.com
Same question as previous one – Do you sell you work? Enjoyed browsing thru your images. Just read your reply of March 12th – will email you. Cheers, Anne
I, too, came over from the Cornell site….your work is incredible! I think these are some of the most lively bird studies and portraits that I have ever seen. I love the chickens in particular, but would be hard-pressed to pick a favorite watercolor piece…the red-bellied woodpecker in particular is sublime
I’m beginning to get into watercolors myself; oil painting is my first love, but watercolors are much more practical and conducive to doing sketches from life (not to mention infinitely more portable!) Thank you for the infinite inspiration! I will definitely be following your work!
In my north Texas back yard, I’m intrigued with the ebb and flow. One week the world will be controlled by mockingbirds. The next week grackles may arrive, and seem unstoppable. House sparrows take over, and then recede. A male cardinal can be in control. I hear the sound of a blue jay, but he never really appears. Mourning doves defy spelling by appearing in the morning.
Less than an eighth of a mile away, lots of scissortail flycatchers and a goodish number of western kingbirds nest in a local small park, but they rarely make it over to our back yard.
I think that feeders and aeries and back yards teach one the power of observation–a thing one knows well at 8, and often forgets by 18. Who can have time to drink when there is so much to drink in?
lovely sketches, as ever. thanks for sharing them.
Whoa. AMAZING stuff… Saw your profile pic and comments on Birdchick’s FB page and had to see who was behind it. Great profile pic BTW. Was that a ‘hold the camera self-portrait’…? Very cool.
Your work here is astounding and inspirational. I need to pick my jaw up off of the keyboard now.
Keep on.
- T.
I have been away for awhile (Florida – the birds were amazing) and without a computer. What a joy it was to check “birdspot” and see you posting again, and, in color! Your drawings have lifted my spirits and, as always, I’m in awe of your talent. Please keep posting and, teaching I hope.
What beautiful artwork! I found your link through NOTCOT.org and I’m so happy I did! I can’t wait to show everyone!
Completely unrelated: I always told myself that if I had a boy dog (I already have one, but she’s a she.) I would name him Oscar. We’re kindred spirits. seriously. we should be friends.
(or I’m just being creepy)
[...] Carolina Wren [...]
I think American wrens are among the most perfect of birds, particularly as a subject for drawing and painting. The personality and almost ‘cheeky’ demeanour they display is second to none and lends itself beautifully to quick, loose sketching as you’ve shown with the brilliant piece at top.
The balance and composition of the picture as a whole work beautifully (although I’m inclined to guess that this might’ve been the product of an innate sense of balance and harmony rather than deliberate planning), but it’s the pencil sketch at upper right (the one looking down and to the left of frame) that really grabs me. This might be my favourite of all your drawings – although that’s a big call – the pose and consummate drafting skill you’ve shown here are damn near perfect. Absolutely nailed him!
Now stop reading this drivel and make more art, I can’t wait to see more like this!