About those birds and some sketchy times
But sketchy in a good way! Well, maybe not for the chickadees.
Hey all. (Welcome new subscribers. The next bit might confuse you but, also, hopefully, amuse you.) Totally left you hanging there, waiting to find out what happened to the black-capped chickadees that hatched in the birdhouse in my yard.
Before I get to the birds or anything else, here’s a photo from a trip I took out to Bethel in August.
It had been raining for days and days (and days and days) so this break in weather was such a treat (before, um, it started raining again). But I got to hang with friends, buy local art, take a walk with another friend who happened to be in Bethel at the same time, and sew a tiny dog bed for an excellent kiddo’s stuffed animal. And when it comes to things that make me happy, all wins right there. Anyway, yes, the double rainbow is meant to soothe your mind and make you forget that I ran off with some other work and left you to entertain yourself. (Did it work?) It was my first time in Bethel. Spending time with my friends’ family at a for-kids library event and attending a garage sale by a family that was moving away (but was sad to do so) made it clear how tight the community is. I hope to return very soon.
Back to the birds
Well, the chickadees left without saying a word. Did they make it? I have no idea. Let’s go with yes. I need it to be yes. I’m sure that it’s really a no for at least a few of them but…I’m still going with yes. (About a month ago a tree behind my house was absolutely chickadee-ful and a few of them looked at me with a “yeah, it’s us” look so maybe yes? Or maybe I should spend more time talking to other humans instead of staring out my windows. Nah.)
But if it was a no, I bet some of the other resident birds in my yard had something to do with it. Black-billed magpies are to Anchorage as pigeons are to NYC. Yes, there are pigeons here too but their numbers are nowhere near our magpie numbers.
One thing pigeons and magpies have in common is that they are great dividers: some people love them and others hate hate hate them. If you’re on the hater side, please keep in mind that, when it comes to pigeons, it could be much worse. Pigeons are related to the long-dead dodo and dodos were three feet tall so…imagine a three-foot tall pigeon chasing you down to steal your sandwich. (Or just stepping up to you while you’re hanging on a park bench, pigeon beak at your face, demanding the sandwich. “Dude. That’s mine now.”) Feel better about pigeons now? As for magpies, I cut them some slack because they’re so damn smart and I love the shimmering blue-green/green-blue on their wings and tails. But just some slack. Cause magpies kill fledglings.
Magpies are stone-cold baby bird killers? Yup. While they do enjoy nuts and seeds and all those lovely genteel foods that people put out in bird feeders (while cursing any squirrels who dare steal those nuts) magpies like some meat. If the magpies that hung around my yard this summer are any indication, they’re coming for all of us at some point. A smart bunch, that lot.
But back to giving them some slack because of their smarts: here are some magpies in my yard engaged in a parkour workout that included rolling around a ball.
A sketchy take on Alaska (and all the world)
If you don’t follow me on Twitter or Instagram (how dare you! please remedy these horrid problems) or you’re not a regular reader of the New York Times travel section, you may have missed my latest piece for the paper. Fear not. You, can still dig in on my tale of a rainy weekend art adventure in McCarthy, Alaska, which sits in Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. In Alaska, Slowing Down to Take Things In details a truly excellent weekend learning the art of field sketching from artist and science illustrator Kristin Link.
For those of you who haven’t tumbled across field sketching, it’s a drawing practice that sits firmly at the intersection of art and science. Used to capture notes in the field for both scientific research, naturalists’ explorations, an art practice, and much more, it can range from just-the-facts to the very personal. Field journals are also great spaces to record questions about what you’re seeing. Field journals encourage curiosity, something we can all use more of in our day. Being curious is fun. (Ooh, fun. Remember fun?) Some field journalers include notes about how the research or art is going or their hopes and dreams for finding some plant or animal that day. (Scientists are often far funnier than most people would expect and reading field journals that have been made public are a good place to see that in action.)
If you sense that I’m encouraging you to take up the practice of field sketching, you’re right. I’m still working toward making it a daily habit. (But as you can tell from the frequency of this newsletter, I have consistency issues.) In the midst of a busy day, taking the time to do some field sketching gives me breathing room, a time to see and, hokiness ahead, just be. And it’s really something quite beautiful to stop and look and give a tiny bit of the world some of your time. When is the last time you focused in on the ways ice crystals sit on a leaf? Or how the colors change on a single flower petal?
Let me make one thing very clear: it doesn’t matter whether or not you can draw. I am not a natural when it comes to drawing and painting. You’ll find your way with field sketching, you’ll make your own practice of it. This is for you and for you alone. (Well, unless you write a newsletter and decide to publish some of your, um, art.) Here’s a page I did focusing on the negative space around an object. Draw the negative space and, oh look, there’s the object itself. It’s an odd thing to do but it does make sense once you try it.
But even if you do nothing besides make marks showcasing the colors you spotted that day, you’ll collect near-endless benefits for both your body and mind. And after the last bunch of very strange years, wouldn’t a healthier future filled with pops of fun be nice?
To get started, you really just need some paper and a pencil. Maybe some crayons. Whatever you have is fine. Over time you can add other kinds of art supplies to your field arts kit. And if you do want to take some lessons in the how-tos without paying much (or anything) to do so, the Internet is packed with videos on the practice. Two places to start: John Muir Laws’ video archives and Roseann Hanson’s Exploring Overland.
Off you go.
Finch of the issue
That’ll do it from Here in Alaska for today.
Please share this with friends and family and encourage them to subscribe. Here in Alaska is based in place but encompasses art, science, culture, and so much more. So if you know somebody who is interested in the world, I look forward to having them join the conversation.
More soon,
Jenna