tales from the wild metropolis
"I don't want to get up! It's too early! It's too bright! It's too cold! Let me go back to sleep!!" That's what I imagine Punxsutawney Phil grumbling when an official pair of gloved hands reaches into the rodent's enclosure on February 2nd— the groundhog equivalent of about 4 am— to drag him out of... Continue Reading →
It's not the size of the dog in the fight that counts, but the size of the fight in the dog. So we've been told, although there's an ongoing quarrel over exactly who did the original telling.* Whatever. I'm here to tell you, right here and now, that the same sentiment applies in spades to... Continue Reading →
The Brothers Grimm (Jacob and Wilhelm, btw) are generally given credit for publishing the first collection of fairy tales. I hate to quibble, but Mother Nature is the OG spinner of stories full of abandonment, alchemy, metamorphosis, maturity quests, enchanted slumbers, and awakenings. Read closely, and you'll discover that folksy sagas don't use forests, meadows,... Continue Reading →
Big things come in small packages, we're told... and if you'd like some evidence to support that theory, boy-howdy, have I got a potent little parcel for you! Measuring 3-4" (8-11 cm) from beak to tail-tip, and tipping the scale at 0.1-0.3 oz (4-8 g), less than 2 cents worth of copper, the Golden-Crowned Kinglet... Continue Reading →
If, as you gaze through a frosted window at a pewter sky, watching the neighborhood being tucked beneath a frosty white blanket, you wonder where all the snowbirds have gone… look no further than your own backyard. I'm talking about Dark-Eyed Juncos (Junco hyemalis), of course. Small (5.5-6.3"/14-16 cm, beak to tail-tip; 0.6-1.1 oz/18-30 g),... Continue Reading →
You know how there's always that last bit of liquid in the glass, just a few drops, that's resistant to lift-off no matter how many times you re-position the straw or how much suction force you apply? Well, Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers (Sphyrapicus varius) solved this physics problem over 10,000 years ago. Turns out, the solution to... Continue Reading →
Anywhere you hang your hat is home, or so the saying goes, but the same holds true even if your cap is actually a cluster of rose-colored feathers, or even a cloche of streaky tan and taupe. Perhaps we rarely see a House Finch (Haemorhous mexicanus) wearing a hat because once they settle on a... Continue Reading →
Crickets don't really sing. The females are silent, and when males want to croon they don't clear their throats... they rub their wings together, kind of like snapping fingers. Very hip. So maybe it would be more accurate to say their wear their hearts on their sleeves. Except they don't have sleeves. Or arms. Or hearts.
Next-Door Nature 