I've been indulging in longer walks since Thanksgiving, returning to the trail along the creek bed and crossing over to the bike path whenever time permits. I love this one stretch by the golf course where the trees and shrubs are untidy, and I tend to startle birds and cottontails and squirrels when I pass by. I paused there today on my way home in the last of the afternoon. I stood there on the path, listening to the mix of bird calls in the approaching dusk. I didn't know most of them, but they made me want to hold still there, stroked me, soothed me. A flycatcher caught my eye. He was sallying out from a perch on a bare tree nearby. I looked closer, curious to see if he was a Say's Phoebe.
In the dim light I was surprised to see all the red on him, flickering bright against the darkness of his wings. Here was my first Palm Springs Vermilion Flycatcher. I knew they were here, but I hadn't seen one since I sat on the balcony in Ajijic and watched the antics of the one who liked to hang out on my neighbor's rooftop across the narrow cobblestone street. My Palm Springs flycatcher was sallying forth with gusto. Once I heard the click of his beak when he snapped up an insect. But he held still, too, perching near me, seeming to listen to my words, my own sounds. There was a sweetness in our meeting, and I'm hoping this is one of his favorite places to perch, hoping we'll meet there again one day soon.
[Editor's note: This photograph is from the
It's Nature site. I couldn't find a photographer listed, but I trust they've retained their copyright on this image. Here is the page where the image resides:
http://www.itsnature.org/air/birds-air/vermilion-flycatcher/. If you scroll down below this image, there's a sweet photograph of a male and female together in their nest.]
