Pseudo twitching on Sunday afternoon

The SS (my Splendid Spouse) and I decided early today to rest relax and enjoy this lovely May day in Midcoast Maine.  After a hearty breakfast at Boynton McKay Food Co. we walked back home for a quick pit-stop.  We grabbed our binoculars; I stuffed my Sibley Field Guide and Audubon bird list into one jacket pocket, and the camera into the other one and then jumped in SS's car and after a very short drive parked by the superb Rockport Public Library.  From there we walked through quiet village streets taking a meandering route eventually leading to Beauchamp Point.  On the way we spotted amongst other small birds a female American Goldfinch at a garden bird feeder.  Just as we were going to leave the paved (asphalted) road for the dirt Beauchamp Point road we heard clear, short whistles coming from high above our heads.  Looking up we saw two Ospreys drifting and soaring, low enough to be easily identified without the binoculars and once we found them through the lenses they were spectacular!

As a brief aside I must mention that being so isolated by time from my British roots I had thought that a colloquial British simile for birding was twitching, on a par with the more common bird watching.  It wasn't until I got home and looked up definitions of twitching that it dawned on me that twitching seems to have a negative or at least a derisory connotation.  Bird watching or birding as it is known as over here is a pastime one can do from time to time and gain varying levels of expertise of knowledge, field work and familiarity with matters ornithological. Whereas twitching is very much an obsession which can quite possibly be psychologically unhealthy just as being obsessed with continually washing one's hands can isolate one from one's peers. I am indebted to an article I found on the web: British Isles Birding by Richard Bonser.  The title of this post is linked to this article.  

Back to our walk: as we were tracking the Ospreys we momentarily lost balance and had to reach out and grab each other to stay upright.  Just as well, as we realized we were standing almost in the middle of the road and a car was approaching!

For extreme amateurs as ourselves the most frustrating thing is to be surrounded by woodland, to hear abundant and varied birdsong... and not being able to spot a single living bird... aaaargh! Luckily there are many consolations to a long walk, hand in hand with gentle sea breezes causing your hair to shimmer in the dappled light - well, causing one person's hair to shimmer.  It's just that ears flapping does not sound quite so idyllic!  

Anyway, back to birding: however, we did in fact score some points and did spot a ducky little brown creeper flitting from one tree trunk to another and skittering around the bark coming in and out of sight for a minute or so.

We left the little brown creeper to his world and strolled up and across the point to the very lovely Children's Chapel.  You can see photos I took of the chapel and the surrounding gardens and sea views.  It is a magical place but I will have to save yakking on about it for another post.  From the chapel we wandered down through the nearby golf course (the road runs through it) and eventually back to the Bra Fru's (Good Wife's) trusty horseless carriage and  back home to gallons of hot tea and slices of home made quince & blueberry pie.  All in all, a good Sunday.