Birding in the Strange Beyond

Here We Go Again

Christmas Vacation 2024 kicked off in wondrous ways. On Friday, after watching the Cleveland Cavaliers continue their romp through the NBA, I fell into a profound, bourbon-powered sleep on my brother’s couch. What I awoke to was a wintry paradise.

Dark-eyed Juncos and Northern Cardinals picked at the forest floor. Black-capped Chickadees, Tufted Titmouses, and House Finches gang-rushed the feeders. The suet was quickly depleted by woodpeckers—Downy, Hairy, Pileated, Flicker.

An auspicious start indeed. Sadly, it was short-lived.

In October, I wrote all about the delights of birding with Pneumonia, the three-day ordeal during which I defied the grips of fever dreams in a desperate effort to keep my eBird streak alive. My goal to fill a full calendar year with checklists for the first time in my birding career was in peril, and not for the last time…

This week it was stomach flu, an early Christmas present from my nephews that rampaged through our family without mercy. One by one we dropped, every child and most of the adults. I was not spared. This flu, an especially vicious strain, had me vomiting hard, so hard that at one point the curtain concealing every secret of our metaphysics was swept back. Suddenly, like a clock freed of its casing, the machinations of timespace were laid bare. Earth’s time lost all meaning. The blink of an eye became a vast expanse, and the multiverse was laid out before me in toto, origin to end. I knew at once the highest height of joy and uttermost desolation. Braided light and melodies raced over the cosmos. All the while surrealistic visions of birds swirled in the nether-regions of my brain.

In one instant a crow licked its chops, ready to jostle in contest for the right to pick my bones.

In the next, all the birds of the world descended, and we danced a merry dance of peace and joy.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the virus was gone. My body was brutalized, scraped out like a pumpkin’s guts, the closest I’ve ever come to knowing what Frodo must have felt like at this exact moment in his journey.

I was alive, but with little memory of the previous 24 hours. Panic seized me. I groped for my phone and found the eBird app, which informed me I had somehow logged three Canada Geese at 4:40 p.m.

eBird streak intact ✅

As of publication, five days stand between me and my goal—365 or bust!

Pudding Reveal

Three weeks ago I assembled this Christmas pudding, the traditional British holiday treat comprised of beef suet, candied peel, raisins, spices, brandy, and too many other ingredients to name. My main worry was that I hadn’t incorporated the suet well enough, the pudding would be riddled with gobs of fat that no amount of brandy cream could make appetizing, and the gastrointestinal fireworks would begin anew. Below, my wife Alex captures the Big Reveal and the Final Verdict.

Chef’s note—though the flavours were rich and layered, my fears about the suet not fully blending in were justified. Indeed there were pockets of fat, and the pudding as a whole was too crumbly for my liking. Though I’ve surely lost some of whatever Brit cred I might have had, the pudding was fit for human consumption, and I vow next year’s effort will be one to make my ancestors proud.

Taste—8/10

Texture—2/10

Brandy cream—7/10

Overall—5.7/10

And now, dear friends and fellow birders, a humble request—you would be giving me the finest possible Christmas present by subscribing to my wife’s YouTube channel. Thank you! 🎄 🎅 🎁

Featured Photo—Red Bellied Woodpecker

One rite of passage for anyone learning North American birds is to eventually be confused about why a bird with a spectacular red cap is called Red-bellied Woodpecker, particularly when that field mark often goes entirely unseen. Pictured here is one of the more robust displays of red I’ve ever personally seen on the bird. This one did me the favor of flashing his almost-bold belly as he contorted for bites of his own Christmas suet.

And while we’re discussing this bird, it saddens me to report that the injured Red-bellied Woodpecker I attempted to rescue in October had to be euthanized. Last week I was informed that fractures to her femur and pelvis could not be repaired, and she was peacefully put down in the hands of her caregivers. Heartbreaking, but it’s some comfort to know she wasn’t suffering as she exited this Earthly plane.

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Spencer Tunick

The first three videos in this post were shot and edited by my brother-in-law Spencer Tunick. When he’s not busy somehow avoiding stomach flu and slurping oysters from the half shell he can be found photographing naked people across the four corners of the map—from Mexico City to the Dead Sea to beautiful Cleveland, Ohio 🦪 📷

Not Getting Stomach Flu

As with pneumonia, I strongly recommend avoiding stomach flu whenever possible. Though the aftermath has me feeling somehow edified, my journey through the fourth dimension is not one I’d recommend or choose to repeat 🦠 💀 🐦‍⬛

That’s all for this week. As of today, 13 of 16 exposed family members have caught the bug. Will the last three dominoes fall? Stay tuned. Meanwhile, how are you celebrating the holidays? In good health? With the birds? Or has your home too become a makeshift infirmary? Tell me about it in the comments 👇

Until next week, try not to puke your guts out!

nwb