1657, (4:57 PM for the time-challenged) and I was plugging away at work, pretty much lost in thought. Certainly had no idea of it being 3 minutes away from what many regard as quitting time, because in what I do, there really is no quitting time.
Gradually realized that I had been interrupted by a persistent buzzing from the front yard. Pacific
Wren! Since I've lived here in Oregon, I've associated this bird with cold weather -- a winter bird here on the banks of the Willamette River. Right now, it's in the low 60s (F) outside, and Pacific Wren was a bit of a surprise. But this whole fall period has been a bit of a surprise. Several species have appeared early. This is not my first PAWR (to use the bird-banding alpha code, which you can reference at the USGS Patuxent River Wildlife Research Center USGS Patuxent River Wildlife Research Center, and it's a very useful shorthand notation, particularly in field notes) of the year, but I think it might be the most benign conditions.
No photos to show you, which is a bit of a shame, as they're cute little buggers, as most wrens are. But it's an easy image search. Some of the results are even correctly identified! Or you can go to the Cornell Lab http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Pacific_Wren/id - an authoritative source. And apparently the sole US university with more ornithologists than Oregon State, which is just across across the river from me.
I have to get back to work, which one of the reasons I didn't even consider trying to get a photo. Yes they are way photogenic. But beyond that, they are interesting, beyond the cute imagery so beloved by the millions of Internet cat-video fans. Ann Nightingale put up a post back in 2011, writing from Victoria, B.C. It is, of course, filled with cute: that is pretty much unavoidable when the subject is PAWR. But it's also personable, informative, and interesting.
I wish I could do content like that. Sadly, all I can do is point to the people who can.
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Late September Birding in the Willamette Valley
I had a great morning. I'll pay for it by working a late night, but unless thing go completely to hell, it will have been worth it. It started innocently enough, drinking morning coffee on the deck, munching on an enormous cinnamon roll, and doing a mental review of what I needed to get done today. Because that's how we roll, on the mean streets of a semi-ghost-town in the central Willamette Valley.
Mostly, I was thinking about infosec projects, data analysis projects, how soon I needed to get firewood delivered, and the huge goodness of that cinnamon roll. Then the birds began to trickle in. I didn't end up with a particularly long checklist, though 30 species counts as good, this time of year, and it took a long time to get there. Hence my expectation of a late night.
Since May, I have been wondering if I were having a Big Year. Not in the sense of the 2011 film of the same title, and certainly not in the sense of what fellow Oregonian Noah Strycker is up to. Which is to see 5000 birds in a year, and he has already beaten the previous record of 4341, with a bird named the Sri Lanka Frogmouth, of all things.
The only thing we have in common is having something like a quarter of the year left.
What is my current idea of a Big Year? 111 species. Seriously. A lot of birders are all about lists and counts. There's certainly a place for that. I use it as a rough-and-ready metric for how much I am learning. My goal is to better understand this very cool place that I inhabit. More species, if careful records are kept, means a better understanding of the flow of seasonal change, etc. All very Thoreau.
But I don't know how many birds might be on my life list, and that's an important thing for many birders. I know it is at least 250, and suspect that it is more like 275 or something. That may seem like a lot of birds, but it is well under half of the species recorded just in Oregon, which I think is around 600. There are probably counties with higher numbers.
As a birder, I pretty much suck. I'm fine with that, as I can still use counts as motivator. Something to get me off my ass, outdoors, and learning about something other than infosec. Previous to this year, there was no month in which I had found 70 species in the yard. This year:
This is a bottomless pit of learning, the scope of which is best appreciated with a cup of coffee, a cinnamon roll, and a complete absence of IT security stuff. Well, except for the data analysis bits, which is common to both. And much else, these days.
So how is my yard Big Year going? Second-best, so far. At 109 species, I've beaten my 2014 record of 107 species, but I am still one shy of my all-time 2013 record of 110. Even with a full quarter of the year to go, it isn't (quite) a certainty. If you are just looking at your yard, travel is out. And it gets progressively harder to find anything new for the year. Today I added a new bird for the first time since August, and that was the first since probably May. That said, I suspect that I am going to stonk my previous best, and finish the year at 114 or so. Unless life intrudes, which it often does.
Mostly, I was thinking about infosec projects, data analysis projects, how soon I needed to get firewood delivered, and the huge goodness of that cinnamon roll. Then the birds began to trickle in. I didn't end up with a particularly long checklist, though 30 species counts as good, this time of year, and it took a long time to get there. Hence my expectation of a late night.
Since May, I have been wondering if I were having a Big Year. Not in the sense of the 2011 film of the same title, and certainly not in the sense of what fellow Oregonian Noah Strycker is up to. Which is to see 5000 birds in a year, and he has already beaten the previous record of 4341, with a bird named the Sri Lanka Frogmouth, of all things.
The only thing we have in common is having something like a quarter of the year left.
What is my current idea of a Big Year? 111 species. Seriously. A lot of birders are all about lists and counts. There's certainly a place for that. I use it as a rough-and-ready metric for how much I am learning. My goal is to better understand this very cool place that I inhabit. More species, if careful records are kept, means a better understanding of the flow of seasonal change, etc. All very Thoreau.
But I don't know how many birds might be on my life list, and that's an important thing for many birders. I know it is at least 250, and suspect that it is more like 275 or something. That may seem like a lot of birds, but it is well under half of the species recorded just in Oregon, which I think is around 600. There are probably counties with higher numbers.
As a birder, I pretty much suck. I'm fine with that, as I can still use counts as motivator. Something to get me off my ass, outdoors, and learning about something other than infosec. Previous to this year, there was no month in which I had found 70 species in the yard. This year:
- April: 72
- May: 76
- August: 73
- September 71 (so far)
Today, I picked up on something called a Warbling Vireo amongst a tree full of Bushtit. Neither of these species is spectacular -- far from it. Being able to do it means, to me, that I am slowly getting a clue as to the subtle things that are happening all around me. I'm learning, I can more fully appreciate bird migration, etc.
I mostly use eBird for record-keeping these days. Imperfect as hell, for reasons that I will probably get into in subsequent posts. But they do supply another powerful motivator: bar charts. Seriously. Read eBird: Engaging Birders in Science and Conservation. It worked on me, in that I am constantly looking at bar charts, and targeting birds that I either know or suspect should be here, but have not been able to find. Filling in that last blank spot, turning Belted Kingfisher into a year-round bird, motivates me. Then it might get deeper, as you start to think about the shape of the graph. Does a bar chart begin to show activity in March, gradually, or explode into being in April? How about that unexplained absence in Q3 of July? How did it vary in 2013, 14, and 15? Might weather have affected it? If so, how?
This is a bottomless pit of learning, the scope of which is best appreciated with a cup of coffee, a cinnamon roll, and a complete absence of IT security stuff. Well, except for the data analysis bits, which is common to both. And much else, these days.
So how is my yard Big Year going? Second-best, so far. At 109 species, I've beaten my 2014 record of 107 species, but I am still one shy of my all-time 2013 record of 110. Even with a full quarter of the year to go, it isn't (quite) a certainty. If you are just looking at your yard, travel is out. And it gets progressively harder to find anything new for the year. Today I added a new bird for the first time since August, and that was the first since probably May. That said, I suspect that I am going to stonk my previous best, and finish the year at 114 or so. Unless life intrudes, which it often does.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Late August: Seasonal changes in the Willamette Valley
High temps have mostly been in the 80s, but even when they have gone higher, it
hasn't been uncomfortable. The days are very noticeably shorter now, and high
temps haven't been sitting on a plateau until well into the night. They've been
at a high for 1-3 hours, and dropping after 1700 or so. Low temps have been in
the low 40s, not anywhere between the high 40s and low 60s.
Still dry as hell, and the late-summer landscape is a picture of devastation,
after this record-breaking warm year. The blackberries are mainly done, pears
are hitting the ground, the potted hydrangea bloom has mostly faded, etc.
The first mouse is in the garage, chewing up an old sweatshirt rag for nesting
material.
I have a very distinct sense of seasonal change. All those things that I wanted
to accomplish this spring and summer, but life intruded? Forget that stuff
until next spring. Better to remain in the moment, and focus on what I can
still accomplish, rather than what I did not accomplish. Though it might be
worthwhile to write a few notes on what did not happen, and why. And set an
alarm to review those note files in your calendar. So that it doesn't happen
next year as well, for the same reasons. Which would be a Bad Thing.
hasn't been uncomfortable. The days are very noticeably shorter now, and high
temps haven't been sitting on a plateau until well into the night. They've been
at a high for 1-3 hours, and dropping after 1700 or so. Low temps have been in
the low 40s, not anywhere between the high 40s and low 60s.
Still dry as hell, and the late-summer landscape is a picture of devastation,
after this record-breaking warm year. The blackberries are mainly done, pears
are hitting the ground, the potted hydrangea bloom has mostly faded, etc.
The first mouse is in the garage, chewing up an old sweatshirt rag for nesting
material.
I have a very distinct sense of seasonal change. All those things that I wanted
to accomplish this spring and summer, but life intruded? Forget that stuff
until next spring. Better to remain in the moment, and focus on what I can
still accomplish, rather than what I did not accomplish. Though it might be
worthwhile to write a few notes on what did not happen, and why. And set an
alarm to review those note files in your calendar. So that it doesn't happen
next year as well, for the same reasons. Which would be a Bad Thing.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Control is So Very Old-School
I have no idea what this blog will be about. I do security things at fubarnorthwest, but this is intended for everything else. So, a catch-all. I have no intention of writing multiple blogs, divided by subject. There's the security blog, and this everything-else blog. Right now greg-freestyle, is about birds, because there's an interesting intersection between birds and citizen science. I love me some birds, but also some physics, astronomy, and data analysis. And there are a lot of social, and societal (not regarded as the same thing) issues that confuse the hell out of me. Plus a lot of clueless systems admins (and scientists, for that matter) that don't seem to have much of a grasp on reality.
Anything might turn up here; it's a dumping ground for random crap. Perhaps readers will supply me with a clue. Because, you know, having a clue is A Useful Thing. I do, however, reserve the right to beat on people when required. This is not a place for e.g. political diatribes, unless I am the author.
That might seem unfair, but it isn't, really. This is Blogger. The notion of bringing down the banhammer never did scale particularly well, and it's pretty much impossible on Blogger. Not being much of a control freak, this doesn't really bother me. I can just ignore you, or point out why I am ignoring you.
My blog, my rules, my rants and/or commentary. I get to be the judge of what differentiates rants, commentary, and thoughtful discussions. NOT. I expect to have most of my fun watching the weird places that human nature drives us toward, as humanity learns to deal with a very different future.
Here's Nirvana, on what may be the greatest copyright infringement mechanism known to man, YouTube, but is only the slightest taste of the societal disturbances to come. It may have been taken down by the time you read this. Fine. One of the things we need to think about is what we should just accept as ephemeral data, what should be preserved, and what time scales we are talking about. There is a large difference between clinical drug trial data and a Nirvana video.
Anything might turn up here; it's a dumping ground for random crap. Perhaps readers will supply me with a clue. Because, you know, having a clue is A Useful Thing. I do, however, reserve the right to beat on people when required. This is not a place for e.g. political diatribes, unless I am the author.
That might seem unfair, but it isn't, really. This is Blogger. The notion of bringing down the banhammer never did scale particularly well, and it's pretty much impossible on Blogger. Not being much of a control freak, this doesn't really bother me. I can just ignore you, or point out why I am ignoring you.
My blog, my rules, my rants and/or commentary. I get to be the judge of what differentiates rants, commentary, and thoughtful discussions. NOT. I expect to have most of my fun watching the weird places that human nature drives us toward, as humanity learns to deal with a very different future.
Here's Nirvana, on what may be the greatest copyright infringement mechanism known to man, YouTube, but is only the slightest taste of the societal disturbances to come. It may have been taken down by the time you read this. Fine. One of the things we need to think about is what we should just accept as ephemeral data, what should be preserved, and what time scales we are talking about. There is a large difference between clinical drug trial data and a Nirvana video.
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