Space cadet | Family dude | Photographer | Music lover | Traveler | Science fiction fan | Hugo Award nominee | Writer | 5x NASA Social participant | KC Chiefs fan | LA Kings fan | Senior Director of Finance & Administration for ALS Network | Member & former staff Finance Officer at the Commemorative Air Force SoCal Wing | Hard core left-wing liberal | Looking for whatever other shenanigans I can get into
A new reader, Victoria, stumbled on an old post which had the audio from the hummingbirds “clicking” as they flew around. She was wondering what they looked like.
Funny you should ask.
It turns out that this weekend, while I was trying to get some peace and quiet sitting in the shade in the back yard and reading, a rough and rowdy band of three hummingbirds decided that I was an idiot who didn’t know that their feeder (which I was sitting near) was empty. They buzzed me repeatedly, and would hover right in front of my face within an arm’s length, then zoom up to hover next to the empty feeder, then zoom back down into my face, and repeat two or three more times before zooming off into the trees. The message seemed pretty obvious.
“Look, stupid human who’s supposed to keep the feeders filled! This one’s empty! See! Hey, look at us! Hey, look at the empty feeder!”
After they did this two or three times and I was too surprised and stunned to get my phone out, two of them came back for one more pass.
I haven’t played with the audio to clean it up and the YouTube compression algorithm butchers the sound a lot, but you can still hear them zooming.
For having a brain that’s smaller than a walnut, they sure can fly, and apparently make the connection between me (or at least, people in general) and their feeder being refilled. They’ve watched me do it enough times. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible or likely, but I’ve been wrong before.
Or I’m wrong now, anthropomorphizing the crap out of the situation, and just feeling guilty about letting the feeder get empty. (There are other feeders, the trees are in bloom and covered in pollen, and the place is lousy with flowers in bloom. None of them are starving to death.)
It also reminds me that the Forever Home, wherever it might be, needs to have lots of birds in general, hummingbirds specifically. I live for this particular style of abuse.
Back at the Ahmanson for “A Strange Loop.” Going into this one cold, no clue what it’s about except for the emailed warnings about “…explicit language, references to internalized racism, homophobia, HIV stigmatization, sexual assault, and scenes of an adult nature. The show uses theatrical haze, strobe and flashing lights, and sudden loud noises.” So, unlikely to be musical comedy.
As the days get longer, we get to see a bit more of the Downtown LA area and Music Center when we get here early.
The iconic LA City Hall, on the far side of the Great Park, with the Hall of Justice on the left (I think).
The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion is at the other end of the Music Center plaza. Despite the dozens and dozens of times I’ve been to the Ahmanson, I don’t think that I’ve ever been to the Chandler. Something to check off the list in the next year!
The Mark Taper Forum is the round building on the left, with the Ahmanson behind it, and the LA Cathedral sunlit on the right across the street.
There was another Falcon 9 Starlink launch out of Florida right around sunset here, which meant I was out looking at the sky about 80 minutes later. (Just shy of the end of the first 90-minute orbit.)
Nada!
Which is not to say that there wasn’t anything pleasant or wonderful to see, I just didn’t spot any second stages passing overhead venting fuel.
There was a very pleasant and beautiful, if somewhat subdued, sunset to watch. None of the flaming golds and oranges and reds that we can occasionally get, and not a cloud in the sky to give it “texture.”
But the Moon is just barely two days past new, so it’s just a silver sliver popping into view and hanging there once it started to get dark.
If your skies are clear, go take a look tomorrow night. It will be just as stunning then. And the night after. And on, and on, and on…
Just a random picture from a hospital parking lot off into the distance toward Montpelier.
It’s been five years since we were there last, so we’ll be headed back again next week. Time to see old friends and celebrate FIFTY FREAKIN’ YEARS??!!!
Last Friday, while having my telescope set up at my daughter’s school, we saw what I believe to be a Falcon 9 upper stage venting excess fuel on its first orbit around after a Starlink launch from Florida. Tonight there was a very similar launch at a very similar time on a very similar mission, so about 80 minutes after the launch I sat out on my front yard with a camera for a while just in case it happened again. It didn’t. But there were still six lessons I learned.
With the multiple flood lights set up by the new neighbor across the street, it’s tough to see anything more dim than a 737’s landing lights going into Burbank. DAMN! In the search for the Forever Home in the High Desert, I’ll have to keep that in mind.
When it’s quiet, you can hear the train whistles from the Santa Susanna Pass, about two miles away as the crow flies. Funny, I would have guessed it was closer to ten miles, but Google Earth says otherwise.
The rabbits out on the front lawn freak out when I go and sit down on the grass – that’s their grass and there was a lot of leporine side eye going on. I didn’t know I needed an invitation.
In addition to the trains, there were repeated calls from what I’ve always referred to as a “night hawk” or “screech owl.” Turns out the latter guess was closer – what I’m hearing is the screech of a barn owl. Given the Great Horned Owls we hear almost every night, I guess I’m not surprised to hear another kind of owl around as well. But I’ve never, ever seen one, I just hear them once or twice a night, and several times tonight.
The rabbits would be a lot healthier if they spent less time giving me the stinkeye and more time watching out for those barn owls.
The sprinklers turn on at 8:00. With little or no warning. Good thing I’m wash & wear, even at my advanced age.
The Forever Home definitely needs to have dark skies, trains, owls and hawks, and probably rabbits. Although I suspect in that environment (and sort of here as well) the coyotes will be more of an issue for the rabbits than the owls and hawks.
And a handful of birds. It was later in the day and most of the food had been eaten – when the day’s bounty is first cast out onto the lawn we can get the squirrel(s) plus 20-25 or more mourning doves, a dozen or two house finches, as many as 15 juncos if they’ve migrated in, plus towhees, mockingbirds, and whoever else happens to be in the area and wondering what the crowd’s all about.
For some reason my brain hears this phrase in Patrick Stewart’s voice as Jean Luc Picard in the “Chain Of Command” episode of “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” where at the end he’s screaming at the Cardassian, Madred, who has been torturing and drugging him, trying to break him and get him to admit to seeing five lights when there are actually only four.