So tonight I improvised with the garage band. Besides, all great ideas in Silicon Valley are supposed to start at garages anyway. I drove to downtown San Jose again, this time having been coached in the use of Richard’s camera, which is much better than mine, and joined the Fourth Street Garage fledgewatchers in the open air of the top floor. Introductions all around. “Oh, *you’re* the one who wrote the lyrics!” And I was going, so you must be the Eric of the photos, and you must be, and…
The peregrines flew right overhead several times, and with Eric’s help I got to see pictures of some things I’d just missed by being a few minutes too late. I can’t wait to see them posted online.
But could I take my own? I did remember to take the lens cap off–yeah, after about two minutes (smacking forehead). But even so, I just wasn’t fledging with that camera yet; I told Eric my husband was going to have to come take his own. I’d quickly realized I could look down at the thing and inwardly fuss at my own incompetence, or up, to see the peregrines in their last little bit before they settled down for the night. I chose the peregrines. Sometimes life demands that you simply pay attention, now.
There were two on the louver, then a third landing with not quite the grace of its parents, but definitely getting there. A fourth stood watch on the ledge above, and then a parent soared in but then hid halfway down on the far side of the building from the little squawkers. They’d eaten enough for one night.
Eric told me some of the history of the nestings at City Hall, pointed out where Kya had been rescued, described where Clara’s favorite tree was–and I was delighted, because when I’d been in the library last week, I’d seen what had to have been her going right through there to that tree, but whizzing by so fast she left my eyes almost in the dust.
The other reason I went tonight was to drop off some lace scarves as a thank you for some of the people who’ve done so much work to delight and teach and share with so many.
Listening to Eric and laughing over the teenage antics of the young’uns, I was thinking, you know, I do need to branch out on this lace scarf thing for my little carry-around projects in my purse. Gotta add something less gender specific. The FO pile could use a fingerless glove project or two added in for cold hands holding heavy equipment outside on that top level, and it does get brisk.
He told me there was a music fair downtown last summer and that one of last year’s juveniles, at a time when its siblings had dispersed, hung around it squawking overhead loud enough to be heard over it all: hum a few bars and he’d happily sing it for you.
I can throw in some lyrics for the little tiercel. But then, as Glenn the biologist can tell you, he’s already got his own bands.