Finishing Up: The Marietta Mural

 

I was very excited to paint my last creature in the tunnel, and to have that creature be a BIRD. It makes me smile to think of how I managed to work two birds and two mammals into an underwater mural that could reasonably be expected to consist entirely of fish and turtles, but hey. Biodiversity is the spice of life, and birds fly underwater, too!

I found some absolutely amazing photos online, taken by Alan Murphy in Texas. They are surpassingly beautiful, with crazy water swirls and bubbles and distortion. I would have loved to play more with those motifs, but I just didn't have time--we drew and painted the whole durn tunnel in four huge days, from the first projection to the final brushstroke (laid down, of course, by Perfectionist Me). 

But this photo was my inspiration.

Photo by Alan Murphy

I changed the head and gave it a tail...I'm not sure where the tail is on the reference photo. Lost in a swirl of bubbles! Throughout, I wanted to bring some action into the mural, and the sudden arrowing splash of a belted kingfisher seemed like the perfect vehicle.

Laying down base coats.

By end of day Thursday, August 12, I thought I was done with this bird. It looked pretty fly, I thought.

I asked Beth Nash to come over and give it some swirly bubbles, because I was too much of a perfectionist to just have fun with it. I was still fussing over feathers.

 

It's kind of a big deal for someone like me to turn over their painting to someone else and say, "Have at it!" but that was one of the big lessons of this project for me. More is better. Community is vital. There are much better painters out there than me. Like Beth Nash! Let go, give someone else a whack at it.

Here's organizer/visionary Bobby Rosenstock's Instapost about it. He's @justajar on IG.

We were elated that Thursday afternoon to have finished the tunnel in only four days. Liam and I just wandered around, taking photos and marveling that we had done it!

Liam says you have to rub the otter's belly for good luck. Which would be a bad idea if everybody did it.

One of the most frequently asked questions from the good people of Marietta who peeked in on us as we worked was, "How you gonna keep people from ruining it? Gonna put some kind of a coating on it?"

It was a fair question, and it was the first thing I wondered when I contemplated giving heart and time to such a big project. And I have to say, having nearly everyone who came by to look ask us the same question was disheartening. Especially after our first morning of drawing. After it was power-washed and spanking clean, Bobby and the Marietta Noon Rotary painted the tunnel an even aqua blue inside. And on the very first night the blue went on, the night before we all came in to start drawing on the walls, someone came through the tunnel with a brick, hurling it against the freshly painted walls, scarring and denting them. How's that for a kick-off on your first morning of mural painting ever? It made us sick, but we all gritted our teeth and pressed forward, hoping that the quality of our work would give even the brick-hurler pause before they destroyed it.

But just to be sure, there's VandlGuard on it. 

The mural survived the week between being painted and being protected, thank goodness! And during that week I looked at photos I'd taken of my work, thinking about what might still need to be done. Something about the kingfisher was buggin' me.  Finally it hit me: I'd forgotten to paint bars on its underwings, and upperwings, too! and it was too white! Aack!

So I went and got three jars of mural paint from Bobby (black, white, and background aqua); grabbed some brushes and supplies; and headed down there on a Friday afternoon to set things aright. Ahhh! All better. Now it looks right to me.

Finally, on this last painting, I had gotten the hang of working with acrylics on cement. I figured out how to thin the paint down and layer washes, sort of like I do in watercolor. I made a million little adjustments, tickled in all those intricate markings on the underwings and secondaries and tail, and brought a blue-gray wash down the near wing and over the flank. Yes, the eye looks weird. That's because when a kingfisher dives, it blinks back a translucent nictitating membrane over its eyes for protection. Sure, I could have made the eye shiny black, but it wouldn't have been right. I like the demonic look.

When I was finally done with the kingfisher, I did a little touch-up on the diving merganser.

Unless I pointed it out, you might not notice the person with upraised arms that I painted over, legacy of the old mural. 

And there's another one next to it. Looks like they were having trouble with the paint, and kept glopping it on. The result was some impasto people that made me think of the Pompeiian volcano, those haunting casts in the hot ash that caught people in their beds. You think about a lot of things while painting large birds.

You can see the Pompeiians, but barely. Most people won't even notice. It didn't bother me one bit. That was then, this is now.

Artist Bonie Bolen added a nice crayfish near my kingfisher. It was great to see her again--we knew each other years ago, since her legendary dad Cobbler John headed up the Blues, Jazz and Folk Music Society in Marietta. Those were the days!  And Leah Seaman painted those rocks in nothing flat. I definitely could not have done that. Follow her @artabella on Instagram. She just finished painting a Porto-Let and it is awesome!!

Though I wouldn't have wanted to paint the whole thing with the public walking right through, it was fine while I was finishing up the kingfisher. I got asked a ton of questions, but mostly people were just so happy to see the mural and tell me how much they liked it. That was Really Nice.

Watching people make a point of bringing their kids to see the mural was my favorite thing of all. Just knowing that it would be a destination for little kids warmed our hearts. And I got to paint with my kid. Nothing beats that.

His eel, my kingfisher, together forever. :) Or until the next flood, I suppose. That's OK. I'd paint it all over again in a heartbeat.

The Putnam Street Tunnel gone from a pedestrian and bicyclists' passage to a destination, and we are so proud to have made it fun and beautiful.

Thanks to Bobby Rosenstock for coming up with the idea, swinging the grant, and pushing it all through. And for bringing the music and Sara's baked goodies that kept us going. Whatta guy!!

Here, Bobby starts off by describing the art he made in school--always wanting to surround the viewer with art. I love this little impromptu video--it captures his unique way of looking at the world, his out-of the box thinking. And the fun of painting and dreaming together.

On Friday, September 3,  2021, there will be a little ceremony, a ribbon-cutting for the mural from 5-6 pm. Come on down and meet the artists, then enjoy Marietta's First Friday, strolling up and down our lovely downtown streets. 

I hope there will be huge puffy clouds like there were on this evening. The play of water light on the bridge's underside is breathtaking on such a day. 

Doesn't that bass tail just draw you in? That glimpse of color and life and something unusual!

Best Save of the Summer-Mystery Nestling

Things are starting to calm down a bit on the rehab front. I've learned how to say the word "no," and there's a midsummer lull in the nesting cycle. Oh, it can get crazy in May and June. And so can I. Baby bird questions come over the phone, by text, via Facebook, via Instagram message, and by email. It's especially deadly in the age of social media, because photos accompany these requests for assistance, and they're all urgent. The other way to look at it, though, is that photos, easily taken and instantly shared, eliminate the need for me to ask the 20 questions it used to take to figure out what we had over the phone. They save me the time and frustration of having to puzzle out an ID for each waif. 

Back in the bad old phone days, a man called and told me he had found a car-hit bird on a night drive. He thought it was some kind of pheasant. I asked him what color it was. 

Dark brownish.

I asked him to describe its beak. He said he couldn't see one. Hmmm. OK.

Does it have big eyes?

Yes!

Whiskers around its face? 

Yes!

I guessed it might be a whip-poor-will, and it was. Crummy shot taken by car headlights on my road in May 2011:

One lady called and told me she had found a huge baby bird under an eagle's nest at a West Virginia campground. She was sure it was a baby bald eagle (in late June) and was all concerned about federal regulations should she be caught with it. A million things whizzed through my brain, but not a single one of them was, "She really has a bald eagle!"

OK let's back up. Please tell me how big "huge" is. Can it fit in your hand?

Yes. But it's really big!

What color is the inside of its mouth?

Orange.

Can you send me a photo?

It was a naked nestling robin.

People are not trying to pull my leg.

 They know what they think, and nothing more.

It scares me, actually, to think that anyone couldn't tell an eagle from a new baby robin.

 Things have definitely gotten better for those of us who answer questions, now that everyone has a great camera in their pocket. I've been wriggling with delight, wanting to share my best and easiest save of this crazy summer. It's a triumph of technology, of putting good people in instant touch with the right person--someone who knows a little something about birds. I got an email from Mary, who has written me long and thoughtful letters about my blogposts over the years. 

Sat. Jun 20

My girlfriend Stef has a lake house on Lake Huron near Rogers City, Michigan, and says this baby bird is on their beach.  She’s trying to keep a horde of local dogs away from it, and hoping the mommy will come back.

Andrew can’t identify it, but guesses starling.  It has pink under its chin and under its tail.  It doesn’t seem to have the orange mouth that starlings have.

Any ideas?

Mary's first email had a video that I tried, but couldn't open. I asked for a still shot and got this: 

Another email came in right atop that one and I opened the photo with it.

4:44 pm Stef just sent this photo.  Andrew now says it’s some pelagic bird on account of the honking bill.  What sayeth JZ?  I wonder if it could be a loon?

Thanks!

My heart literally skipped a few beats. I had never laid eyes on a nestling belted kingfisher. But it's all there, albeit still in pinfeathers! Isn't that the coolest looking little thing!? Poor wee thing can't be more than 10 days old! Not only that, but I could see the sandy lakeshore bank which held its nest burrow, from which it undoubtedly tumbled! 

I fired an email right back. 

5:02 pm Baby belted kingfisher. Please look for a hole in the bank above and put it back in the hole. If you can't find a nest hole, or if there is one that has been dug out by a predator, get it to a rehabilitator quickly.

They eat small baitfish.If you can get ahold of those, do it. Don't feed anything preserved. Chicken breast will do in a pinch. Must save this little bird!

I thought about it and added some more information in a second email. 

Belted Kingfishers nest in holes dug straight back into sandy banks just like the one in the photo behind the baby. 

The holes are very deep. You may need to push him back in with a yardstick or tongs once you find the hole. Hole will be about 4" across and pretty obvious. Listen for alarm rattle of adults, krrrrr! and watch for them flying around. 

Then I sent a third. I was really frantic for this little bird. Such an easy save it could be, but I wasn't there to do it. It seems like every time I encourage people to look for a nest, they tell me there's no nest in sight. As if baby birds just drop from the sky. There HAS to be a nest nearby! Tiny baby kingfishers don't walk...they tumble out of holes and wait to be rescued! My ALL CAPS come out in situations like this. 

I hope to God your friends can get it back in the nest. Such a precious baby. If not I hope they will feed it ASAP and find a rehabilitator. Please let me know what happens! The mother will NOT feed it on the beach. It HAS to be put back in the nest burrow. Please tell them that leaving it on the beach will accomplish nothing. They must either put it in the burrow or get it into care ASAP. It is getting sunburned.

JZ

On Sat, Jun 20, 2020 at 5:28 PM Mary wrote:

I forwarded Stef both of your emails with instructions.

6:09 pm. 
Stef sends her profound thanks!  They found the nest opening, put the baby back in, and because you told them, they gently pushed it way down in the hole.  It went back 3 feet or more!

So the baby is back in the nest, thanks to you!

Another happy ending, we hope.

JZ 7:46 pm 

And we are sure this is the nest. Parents attending, right? Make sure somebody visits.

Yes the hole goes waaay back. I guess you aren't getting him back once he's that deep in.

I''m thrilled to be able to help!

Can’t be certain, this was a bit east of our place. They did hear a similar whirring call. Patrick [Stef’s son-in-law] said when he put the little guy in the burrow, he knew just what to do and scooched himself in.

Oh, I was SO relieved to hear this! If they heard whirring from inside the burrow, they had found the right hole. I bet that little sunburned kingfisher was glad to be back in the cool, dark confines of its burrow!  I wrote back: 

Oh my heart. My kids are elated to hear this, too. Best rehab question, best save of a very, very crazy season (well, besides little Dustin the song sparrow!) 

All's well that ends well!

Speaking of burrows...In the last year, I've gotten to know a pair of naturalists who recently bought property about a half-hour away from Indigo Hill. Thanks to this dratted virus, we haven't been able to get together very much, but we have a lively correspondence and we talk on the phone, too. It's been wonderful and incredibly enriching to have David and Laura Hughes as almost-neighbors. They know more than me about pretty much everything, and are intensely curious. Then they go the whole distance and set up trailcams and blinds and stuff. Two people can do a lot more than one, especially if they share a common goal. 

Laura and I were wondering together how kingfishers deal with their poop when they're confined to a burrow. The burrow is dug by the pair, using their chisel-bills and tiny feet.  Imagine the fish emulsion produced by five baby kingfishers, confined to a burrow for as long as 29 days! They don't shoot it out the hole--too inconvenient, because the burrows can be from 3-7 or as long as 15 feet, straight into the bank! Not only that, but a stream of whitewash coming out of a burrow would clearly announce its occupants to predators such as rat snakes and raccoons. So what do they do??

Laura discovered that once a baby kingfisher poops, it immediately scratches dirt up onto the wall and covers it up! She took a photo of the interior of the burrow. Odorless. Clean. And doubtless enlarged by all the scratching. If birds aren't the coolest creatures on earth, they're darned close.

And now, the piece de resistence: the Hughes' video of a food delivery by an adult kingfisher to its chicks. If I am not mistaken, the adult has brought a bullfrog for lunch. You can hear the 'whirring noise" Mary referenced in her email. Look how the chick comes to the front of the nest burrow and backs away, bearing the frog. Isn't it CREEPY??

These five chicks all fledged successfully, and have been seen with their parents since. Hooray! Mo kingfishers, mo betta. 

              

 If you love this video like I do, and want to see more absolutely incredible clips from my neck of the woods, expertly made by Laura and David Hughes, hit this link to access a collection of their YouTube Hughes videos. Many thanks for your talents, neighbors!

Sunday, Runday

This was without question the best summer for running I’ve ever had. I can remember only a few days when it was so humid I felt I needed gills to breathe. And I can’t remember any days that were so hot I couldn’t move. It was a kind, cool, rainy summer and I loved it. But I’m keenly aware it’s come to an end and we’re now in my favorite season of the year. I love everything about fall—its scents, its heightened insect chorus, the hush of everything else. I even love its ephemerality, perhaps most of all.

And so I announced to Liam and, by proxy, the still-sleeping Phoebe on this fine cool Sunday morning that I was going running, and it would be a long one. I didn’t know where I was running to until I took a right on the county road and headed for Dean’s Fork. I’d never run it before, but I figured it’d work out to about a six-mile round trip, and that’s what I felt like doing. I had no water or food with me but it wasn’t hot and I figured I’d be OK, just a little parched and hungry on the return. And I was all that.

I took my phone but there was no reception. It did me no good except as a camera, and what a lovely camera it was. It let me take you along with me. 

The first thing I came to was a beautiful beaver pond with actual beavers. I know they're still there because my friend Tim Appleton had seen one sunning on a log just a day earlier. And because the dam is always in perfect repair, no holes or spillways. It is the most epic beaver dam I've ever seen, at least 15' high at its deepest point.

Real water is so darned rare around our house, that it's a delight to see a pond, even if it's all silted in and only a few inches deep in most places. 

There are always kingfishers there. 

They rattle and fuss and fly from one end of the pond to the other, letting me know I'm intruding.

Not taken with an iPhone. I can cheat sometimes.

Today, there was something even more special.

I had to leave Chet Baker home because he sprained his wrist chasing feral cats (an honorable battle wound) at the Midwest Birding Symposium, and Katdoc told me he really shouldn't run for two weeks. If you think it's easy to leave those pleading eyes and that sweet face every morning, well, it's not. 

He had a turrible limp at MBS, and about 800 people came up and asked me what had happened to him. I had to carry him everywhere we went for two days, slung over my shoulder like a sack of peanuts. He's much, much better now, 17 days out. You can barely see the limp. We saw Dr. Lutz who recommended easing him back into running on October 7. Well, that's today!

One thing I found, without having a doggeh out in front of me, is that I could creep up on birds and animals, seeing them before they flushed, before they saw me. 

And I peeked through a scrim of vegetation and saw a wood duck peeking back at me. Scanning the pond's many emergent logs, I found at least seven more. 

I watched them for a long time as the sentinel decided whether I was friend, foe, or nothing at all.

It wasn't too long before they lost their nerve and took off in sequential squadrons, ten birds in all, giving a low whoooeeek? as they flew.

Wood ducks are tail-heavy, long from back of wing to tip of tail, easy to recognize even in silhouette.

Two were almost perfect fall drakes! Oh what a jewel a drake wood duck is!

They made my day. I hated to make them move, but they got gone, and there was nothing I could do but forge ahead. I couldn't wait to see what other surprises Dean's Fork held.

Stalking the Wild Kingfisher

If there is a warier bird than the belted kingfisher, I don't know one. Wild turkey? But turkeys taste good. They've got reason to be wary.

Did people once shoot kingfishers on sight? Have these birds evolved believing to their bones that we mean to kill them? These are things I wonder.

The same thing that makes kingfishers frustrating subjects for photography also makes them great fun. The Science Chimp loves a challenge. And now that I have a bitchin' Canon 70-300 mm 1:4-5.6 L IS
 telephoto lens, mounted on the nimble and responsive Canon 7D body,  the happy accidents turn out to be my best shots. This isn't fabulous, but oh what a cool position! Freezing birds in flight is so satisfying when you've been drawing them all your life, trying to figure out how those wings work.

Flying, always flying. Much more interesting than perched, you have to admit. And a bird with some habitat is always more interesting to me than one that fills the frame. That's why the 70-300 is such a good fit for what I like to do. Context. For a painter, it's all about context, giving the bird a place to live in your photos and paintings.

Ehh, anybody can take a photo of a perched bird...

It's getting close enough to get that photo of a kingfisher that's such a delightful challenge.

Getting eyeshine on one, so much the better.

They're like coiled springs, always ready to take off with a blistering rattle. 

The Science Chimp doesn't let a little vegetation or a few dead branches get in the way. DANG! This would have been such a sweet shot.

It's this kind of thing that can occupy me all day long, muttering and cussing and laughing at my lack of luck.

Well, this one doesn't stink... 

and this one is cool on a stick! Kingfishers remind me of woodpeckers with their spots, bars and patches. Not so far apart, taxonomically, I think.

This one makes my heart sing. Thank you, Kingfisher. See you in a few weeks? We'll do our dance all over again.