Time To Say Goodbye

…to our winter waterfowl. Most overwintering species have taken off in the last several weeks for their breeding grounds in more northern latitudes, even though a few stragglers are still lingering, and some will not leave at all.

Es ist an der Zeit, auf Wiedersehen zu unseren Winterwassergästen zu sagen. Die meisten hier überwinternden Entenarten haben sich in den vergangenen Wochen in nördlichere Gefilde zu ihren Brutstätten aufgemacht, obwohl einige noch hinterherhinken, und manche uns überhaupt nicht verlassen werden.

Time not only to say goodbye, but thank you. When many birds fly south and leave a gaping void in autumn, this void is filled, at least partly, by the arrival of an assortment of ducks, whose presence brightens the short, dark days of my least favorite season.

Es ist nicht nur an der Zeit, auf Wiedersehen zu sagen, sondern auch Dankeschön. Denn wenn viele unserer Vögel im Herbst gen Süden fliegen, und eine gähnende Leere hinterlassen, wird diese Leere wenigstens teilweise von einer Auswahl an Enten gefüllt, deren Präsenz die kurzen, dunklen Tage meiner unbeliebtesten Jahreszeit erhellen.

I will not provide details about life cycles or migratory routes of the individuals presented here, which are available in any printed or online birding guide, other than to say that most ducks who spend the winter here, arrive between September and November, and leave again between February and April, when they point their beaks north, some as far north as the Canadian or Alaskan Arctic, where they will mate, incubate their eggs, and care for their young.

Ich beschränke mich auf wenige Details der Lebenszyklen und Wanderrouten der hier vorgestellten Individuen, die in jedem gedruckten oder computerbasierten Vogelführer zu finden sind. Die meisten Entenvögel, die hier den Winter verbringen, kommen zwischen September und November an, und verlassen uns zwischen Februar und April. Dann richten sie ihre Schnäbel gen Norden, teilweise bis ins arktische Kanada oder Alaska, wo sie sich paaren, ihre Gelege hüten, und ihren Nachwuchs aufziehen.

Without having conducted any scientific research or consulted any statistical data, my impression is that Mallards are the most common ducks not only in El Paso County, but possibly in the country. They are year-round residents, but I include them in my review because the males’ conspicuous colors and the females’ conspicuous quacks are a joy to behold any time of the year.

Ohne wissenschaftliche Studien betrieben oder statistische Tabellen konsultiert zu haben, sind Stockenten wahrscheinlich die häufigsten Enten nicht nur hier im Bezirk, sondern im ganzen Land. Sie gehören zu unseren Standvögeln, aber ich erwähne sie trotzdem, weil die bunten Farben des Erpels und das auffällige Quaken seiner Dame zu jeglicher Jahreszeit Freude bereiten.

To enlarge a photo, click on it. To read its caption, hover cursor over it.

Zum Vergrößern, das Bild bitte anklicken. Um den Titel zu lesen, mit der Maus darüber schweben.

 Gadwall might be the least distinctive of all our ducks, but I like their understated style.

Schnatterenten zählen vielleicht zu den unauffälligsten Enten, aber mir gefällt ihr dezenter Stil.

American Wigeons always put me in a good mood. The males have a gorgeous green eye patch and white crown, a feature responsible for their old name, “baldpate.” Their whistling calls enliven any winter lake.

Nordamerikanische Pfeifenten machen immer gute Laune. Die Männchen haben einen großartigen grünen Augenstreif und eine weiße Krone, die für ihren alten Namen, Kahlkopf, verantwortlich war. Ihr Pfeifen belebt jeden winterlichen See.

Any bird with a head this color will automatically become a favorite: Meet the Redhead.

Jeglicher Vogel mit einer solchen Kopffärbung ist automatisch beliebt. Darf ich vorstellen: Die Rotkopfente.

Canvasbacks resemble Redheads, but note the different shape of the head. I think they look particularly graceful.

Riesentafelenten ähneln Rotkopfenten, doch ist die Kopfform unterschiedlich. Ich finde sie besonders graziös.

Ruddy Ducks are only ruddy during the breeding season when the male is nearly red (see first photo) with a blue beak (see second photo).

Schwarzkopf-Ruderenten sind nur während der Brutsaison rot (siehe erstes Photo), und das Männchen bekommt einen blauen Schnabel (siehe zweites Photo).

Lesser Scaup are quite common and can be confused with their cousin, Greater Scaup. I have trouble telling them apart. I think these are Lesser Scaup. 🙂

Kleine Bergenten sind häufig zu sehen und können mit (Großen) Bergenten verwechselt werden. Ich glaube, hier handelt es sich um kleine. 🙂

Ring-necked Ducks are similarly patterned as Lesser Scaup, but notice the white vertical crescent along the flank of the male. They should really be called Ring-billed Ducks, as the ring around the neck can only be seen when the bird is dead, and the ring around the beak when the bird is alive.

Halsringenten ähneln kleinen Bergenten, aber die Männchen haben einen weißen vertikalen Halbmond an der Flanke. Ringschnabelente wäre eine bessere Bezeichnung, denn der Ring am Hals ist nur an toten Enten zu sehen, doch der Ring am Schnabel, an lebendigen.

Common Goldeneye do their name justice.

Schellenten machen ihrem Namen im Englischen Ehre (Goldaugen). Ich weiß nicht, worauf sich der deutsche Name bezieht. 

Bufflehead are so called because the massive bulbous head of the male reminded someone of buffalo. They are great divers and seem to spend more time under the water than on top.

Büffelkopfenten erinnerten die ersten Beschreiber an Büffel. Sie sind gute Taucher und scheinen mehr Zeit unter Wasser zu verbringen als obendrauf.

Common Mergansers are anything but common. The classy appearance of the three males gliding through the featured photo above, as well as the females’ headdress should convince you, too.

Gänsesäger sind bemerkenswert, wie die klassischen Klamotten der Herren ganz oben im Bild und der fantastische Kopfputz der Damen beweisen.

Hooded Mergansers also wear great hairdos and are a beautiful adornment to any body of water.

Auch Kappensäger haben faszinierende Frisuren und sind Zierde eines jeglichen Gewässers.

Green-winged Teals are our smallest ducks, but this can only be appreciated when seen next to other waterfowl.

Amerikanische Krickenten sind unsere kleinsten Enten, aber das sieht man eigentlich nur im Vergleich mit anderen Wasservögeln.

Northern Pintails are elegance personified. Enough said.

Spießenten sind von erlesener Eleganz. Mehr ist dazu nicht zu sagen.

Last, but not least, Northern Shovelers. The size of their bills is astounding. They often go round and round in circles while dabbling in the water, which has led me to call them the “Whirling Dervishes.”

Zu guter Letzt: Löffelenten. Ihre Schnäbel sind frappant. Sie drehen sich so oft im Kreis während sie gründeln, daß ich sie tanzende Derwische getauft habe.

Spring migration, while it promises the arrival of those feathered friends that left us last fall, also means the departure of our darling ducks. It’s time not only to say goodbye and thank you, but also good luck. Good luck with all the challenges that await you. I hope with all my heart to welcome you and your offspring again later this year.

Auch wenn der Frühjahrszug die Ankunft der gefiederten Freunde verheißt, die uns vergangenen Herbst verlassen haben, bedeutet er auch die Abreise unserer entzückenden Enten. Es ist nicht nur an der Zeit, auf Wiedersehen und Dankeschön zu sagen, sondern auch viel Glück. Viel Glück mit all den Herausforderungen, die auf Euch warten. Ich hoffe von ganzem Herzen, Euch und Euren Nachwuchs später im Jahr wieder willkommen zu heißen.

Glassy Surprises

Colorado Springs‘ Fine Arts Center had long been on my „must see“ list, and when it offered free visitation in March, I finally filled this glaring gap in my education. I wanted to explore at least two exhibits, one permanent, the other temporary, but otherwise had no preconceived notions. Incidentally, the museum will celebrate its centenary throughout this year, having originated as the Broadmoor Arts Academy in 1919.

Immediately upon entering the lobby, my attention was riveted by the Medusa-like light fixture featured above, but the title Chihuly Chandelier didn’t mean anything to me. Later, when I strolled into a darkened gallery highlighted and illuminated by an array of additional glass art, I learned about world-renowned (where have I been?) American glass artist, Dale Chihuly (born 1941), whose designs have dazzled viewers everywhere. They certainly dazzled me, and I became an instant fan. Additional research revealed that a 1976 accident resulted in blindness in the artist’s left eye. The associated loss of depth perception and a subsequent shoulder dislocation both affected his ability to blow glass, and forced him to limit himself to designing, rather than fashioning his art. According to a quote on Wikipedia, Chihuly describes his role as “more choreographer than dancer, more supervisor than participant, more director than actor.”

The Persian Wall Installation was arranged by the artist in 2006 and emulates some of the oldest surviving ancient glasswork from the Persian Empire of the 5th and 4th centuries BC. Concentric circles in contrasting colors captivate and charm.

Macchias are glass bowls characterized by spots (macchia is Italian for spot, from Latin macula). Countless color combinations make each one of these calyx-like structures unique, and assorted varieties resting on pedestals form so-called macchia forests.

The focal point of the room was the Orange Hornet Chandelier, composed of 384 pieces, which add up to a weight of 1200 pounds. In addition to hornets, it reminded me of ristras (from Latin restis, for rope or cord), decorative strings of red chili peppers popular in the American Southwest. The ponderous taper, first installed in Venice in 1993 as a smaller incarnation, had additional elements added specifically for the Fine Arts Center, to commemorate its 2007 reopening after a major expansion.

For the same occasion, the museum’s café was adorned with a third luster, the Gilded Blue Sapphire Chandelier, a cerulean dream with golden touches.

My outing reminded me that chance meetings are often the best. Encountering Chihuly’s creations was a wonderful surprise, and in this instance my ignorance was indeed my bliss.

Thus Endeth March

I should be accustomed to Colorado’s idiosyncratic climate by now, but it still takes me by surprise. The last week of March was a case in point. Maybe the month had lost track of time, or wanted to prove that it, too, can be as moody as changeling April. Monday started mild, with seasonal temperatures and friendly weather, but by Thursday, we approached near record-breaking 70 + degrees Fahrenheit and a risk of prairie fires in parts of the state because of associated winds. While most of us gratefully swiveled our faces toward the warm sun like the blossoms of the few blooming flowers, we were forewarned to gird ourselves against the vicissitudes of the season.

To enlarge a photo, click on it. To read its caption, hover cursor over it.

Sure enough, Friday brought clouds and a chill, driving everybody back indoors. A thunderclap announced more impending changes. Small (thank goodness) kernels of hail, and a tornado that touched down about 25 miles east of here, were the first harbingers of unsettled spring conditions, but were followed by a reminder that winter is not yet willing to give up its rule entirely, when a few hours later, wet, heavy flakes dropped from a low, gray sky. Frosty Saturday did not bring a single glimpse of the sun. On Sunday, the last day of March, it managed to burn a window into the clouds for a few hours, before a somber veil was once again pulled across the sky, which released intermittent squalls of snow.

Is it any wonder that one’s emotions follow the ups and downs of this meteorologic roller-coaster ride? Spring at the fringe of the Rocky Mountains seems a long time coming. Nightly frosts retard the growth of plants, and winter’s desiccated vegetation still dominates the scenery. There are hopeful hues of greening grass, and the hyacinths and daffodils in front of the house have unfurled their pretty petals—only to have their noses bitten by frost, as is the case each year. The wildflowers know better, and are not fooled by wrong promises.

Spring migration, always a balm for the soul, has not yet fully started. Each new avian arrival is greeted with a happy heart, but the number of new birds does not yet equal or surpass that of the birds that have left us, or soon will leave us, for their summer breeding grounds.

This transitional time is a time for sad goodbyes and impatient restlessness, but also for hopeful expectations and cautious optimism. Hope springs eternal.

Moving toward spring?/Dem Frühling entgegen?