Birding Bleg

Can any birders out there help me identify this little guy/gal?

He/she lives in my new back yard in Cambridge, approx. half a mile from the Charles River. I took these pics around 6 in the evening in early April. I first noticed her when she was on the ground, picking through some scattered feathers. Then, she flew into this little tree and perched about 6 ft off the ground. After a while, she flew up into the bigger tree next door, about 20 ft up.

I haven't seen any songbirds in the new yard yet – just little puffs of feathers where they once were:

I know nothing about birds, but my impression was that she was small (bigger than a dove, but not by much), drab, and had giant claws relative to the rest of her body. In my very inexpert opinion, she looked too small and drab to be a red-tailed hawk like these. She has dark bands on her tail. Even with the birding book Pete gave me, I am hopeless.

"He Firmly Believed in Cats as an Article of Diet"

In honor of the day, I have an update to a story I tried to tell here nearly two years ago. I am much indebted to commenter Randy Nonenmacher for bringing this new information to my attention.

Some of you may remember Elizabeth Palmer of Little Compton, Rhode Island. Her gravestone proclaims that she "Should have been the Wife of Mr. Simeon Palmer."

Elizabeth Mortimer Palmer, 1776, Little Compton, RI

What an intriguing stone! What happened in this person's life to prompt such an epitaph?

The curious thing is that records show that Elizabeth Mortimer did marry Simeon Palmer in 1755. Back in 2009, I wrote:

So what on earth is that epitaph supposed to mean? Even if Elizabeth and Simeon were in love/engaged before he married Lidia, why would it still matter in 1776, after Elizabeth and Simeon had been married for over 20 years? It seems a strange grudge to hold. Perhaps Simeon, who outlived both his wives, was responsible for the epitaph and used the opportunity to apologize to Elizabeth for wronging her.

The whole thing is very strange. Among other things that raise red flags, Elizabeth Mortimer was 11 years older than Simeon Palmer, which certainly isn't outside of the realm of possibility, but would be unusual. Since Simeon married Lidia in 1744, when he was 21 years old, it would mean that any preexisting relationship between Simeon and Elizabeth would be between a very young man and a woman in her 30s. Again, not impossible, but strange for 18th-century New England.

Well, apparently, I did not know the half of it. In 1901, a reader named M.L.T. Alden wrote to the Newport Mercury to tell the editor about some local history he had picked up in the 1880s. It is hard to do his letter justice without quoting it at some length:

Twenty years ago this summer, I came first to Little Compton. I was much interested in this stone and made inquiries and also consulted the Town records. Aunt Sarah Charles Wilbur, the antiquarian of the village, and also Mrs. Angelina (Palmer) Griswold were then alive and they supplied the details that did not appear on the records of the Town.

The first church of Little Compton, R. I. was organized in 1704 under Rev. Richard Billings, a man of prominence and ability, much beloved, and exerted a strong influence over his charge. He had one idiosyncrasy, however; he firmly believed in cats as an article of diet, and fatted them for the purpose. Amongst his parishioners was a man, Simeon Palmer, of the fine old family resident in Little Compton. He was wealthy married first Lydia Dennis, Aug. 25, 1745, and had Susannah, Gideon, Humphrey, Sarah, Walter and Patience. At some time between 1745 and 1752 he had sunstroke which left him mildly insane and he adopted the views of his minister on cats and insisted on his family using them for food.

Newburyport Dragonfly

Red-Tailed Hawks Again

I've started bringing my camera along every time I go to the grocery store on the off chance that I might catch a glimpse of the juvenile red-tailed hawks on Alewife Brook Parkway. I got lucky today — they were posing for the cameras. No flying yet, though the committed birdwatchers said that the two older ones have started stretching their wings and hovering over the nest. They certainly look like they're thinking of taking the plunge.

Update:
Here are some videos of the nesting pair (Buzz and Ruby - the chicks are Lucy, Larry, and Lucky) and the chicks' early days:

More videos here.

More Red-Tailed Hawks

Any bird watchers out there? There is a nest of juvenile red-tailed hawks on Alewife Brook Parkway in Cambridge, just across from the shopping plaza with the Whole Foods and the movie theatre. The bird watchers gathered there assure me that the two oldest chicks (45 and 43 days old) are just about ready to fly.

Red-Tailed Hawk in Mount Auburn

On my trip to Mount Auburn yesterday, I watched a pair of hawks circle around, startling a flock of starlings everywhere they went.

Cuteness

Every Christmas, we go to a park in Rochester to feed the birds.

This year, we got video of several different species eating out of our hands.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Youth's Companion

17 April 1902

Red-Tailed Hawk on Campus

I wish I could carry my big camera around campus on a daily basis, but I can't manage it and my computer at the same time. That means I have only my non-zooming cell phone to capture fun things like this red-tailed hawk. There is a pair of hawks on campus — they are always screeching, but very rarely perch so low to the ground.

I would have had an amazing pic if I had had my Nikon. Perhaps I need a mid-sized, mid-powered option.

A Herd of Majestic Giraffes!

Thanks to Stephen V. for recommending that I take a look at the Emergence of Advertising collection at Duke. This digital collection includes several thousand scanned images of advertisements from the 19th and 20th centuries, including colorful cartoons, broadsides, and Kodakiana.

One of my favorites is this pamphlet advertising the Sells Brothers' Circus.

Cow and Tubas

Today, Prof. Harvey Cox celebrated his retirement with a Jersey cow and an all-tuba brass ensemble. The story is getting some press coverage.

The cow was very calm, even with a hundred people crowded around.

My Cat is Famous on the Internet, Part II

I promise I will get back to regular gravestone posting soon. It's been pretty crazy around here this first week of classes.

In the meantime, I direct you to this weekend's crop of LOLcats, featuring a certain kitteh.

You may recognize this picture from this post, featuring a hungry cat, a sunny window, and Pete's birthday flowers.

Hollis Professor to Graze Cow on Harvard Yard

Yes!!!

At Harvard, the most distinguished professors are awarded the status of "University Professor." Among the honors and regalia bestowed by this rank are several special privileges: they may carry swords to class, collect firewood on the yard, and graze cows there.

One week from today, University Professor Harvey Cox will celebrate his retirement by exercising his right to graze a cow on Harvard Yard.

I will be there with my camera.

My Cat is Famous in France

Someone found this old picture of my cat on Pete's Flickr account and used it for the header of some online book reviews. The cat likes to attack me when I am reading, which is all the time.

I wish I were reading something more dignified than "Anne's House of Dreams."

Mourning Doves

On the 4th of July, I took advantage of a brief respite from the rain to visit Eastern Cemetery in Portland, ME. The visit turned out to be even more fleeting than I expected because the cemetery reeked. The overpowering stench of rot had me gagging as soon as I stepped out of the car. I don't know if it was wafting in from the harbor or what, but it was awful. Worse than rotting fish. I breathed through my mouth for about 10 minutes, but I couldn't take it any longer, so I didn't get very many pictures.

I did stumble across an adorable pair of mourning doves. I promise that I wasn't chasing them — they just kept flying where I wanted to go.

Name That Bird

Ok, gravestone fans. Is anyone good with birds?

I saw this one on June 17 (around 3p.m.) in Hatfield, MA. It was a fat bird, bigger than a dove, smaller than a duck, with long toes, a red triangle on the back of its head, and a mottled brown/buff back. As it flew away from me, I noticed that its underside was fat, round, and pure white. It wasn't a great flyer — it bumbled off this gravestone and onto the ground, then took off again, barely clearing a 5-foot hedge. When it took off, its wings made an audible thwap-thwap sound, like a goose or a pheasant.

Unfortunately, I didn't get a good picture of it. You can't see the beak in this photo, which makes it tough to identify. I'm kicking myself because I startled it.

I've looked at 12 websites and 3 books on birds of New England, but I've had no luck.

Suggestions?

The Graveyard Rabbit

Thanks to commenter VJESCI for pointing me toward this poem.

The Graveyard Rabbit (1898)

by Frank Lebby Stanton

In the white moonlight, where the willow waves,
He halfway gallops among the graves—
A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam,
Content to dwell where the dead men dream,

But wary still!        
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.

Over the shimmering slabs he goes—
Every grave in the dark he knows;        
But his nest is hidden from human eye
Where headstones broken on old graves lie.

Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff,        
Charmeth the witch and the wizard off!

The black man creeps, when the night is dim,
Fearful, still, on the track of him;
Or fleetly follows the way he runs,
For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones.        

Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
The soul’s bewitched that would find release,—
To the graveyard rabbit go for peace!

He holds their secret—he brings a boon        
Where winds moan wild in the dark o’ the moon;
And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet
To whoever shall sever his furry feet!

Wary still!
For they plot him ill;        
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm. 

Great Names Under the Sea

While exploring some of Harvard's online collections, I came across a group of 19th-century watercolors of fish. Many of them have intriguing common names. My current favorite is the "Flaming Shamefaced Crab" (pictured above).

Unfortunately, the "Demon Eartheater" is much less imposing than its name.

See more at the MCZ Ernst Mayr Library Artwork Collection.

Turkeys Pay Their Respects

I often encounter wildlife in graveyards. Burying grounds are usually quiet and green, making them excellent refuges.

Today, in Franklin, Connecticut, I startled a small flock of wild turkeys. They were very skittish, so I couldn't get close before they fled into a nearby cornfield.

Metamorphosis

Gravestones often feature symols that indicate rebirth, ascension, or metamorphosis. These include soul effigies, hands pointing toward heaven, and rising suns. This obelisk in Mount Auburn takes a somewhat different approach — it shows a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis.

I'm not really sure whether that flame-like thing is supposed to be a leaf or some sort of silk — maybe it is actually fire. It looks like the carver made an effort to make this image look realistic — the stick is knobby, the little leaf has veins — but I've never seen a chrysalis erupt in fire. Also, that butterfly is not exactly the most graceful, elegant butterfly I've ever seen.