Around the house, there are Nicaraguan grackles who, like their northern brethren, possess a wide range of sounds, including slide whistles and throaty growls. Yesterday, I heard a softly tuneful song from the tree by the veranda, and when a breeze ruffled the leaves, I caught a glint of bright orange. It turned out to be a spot-breasted oriole. Here is an image from a Nica bird internet site:
And the grackle:
This pic is spot-on. Our grackles strut about the veranda and look up constantly. What are they looking for?
I packed my binoculars, but they were not in the box noted in my inventory. I hope they turn up, but since every single box was opened and perused at customs, I wonder if I'll see them again. There are numerous parks and trails for birders, and I hope to get to some of them over time.
A couple of nights ago, the electricity went out in late afternoon. There are scheduled outages in every department of Nicaragua, both for maintenance and conservation. There simply is not enough power to meet the growing need. There is even a website where one can check the schedule and plan accordingly, but this particular outage was of the unscheduled variety. Mike and Beth invited me to accompany them to a newish pizza parlor just down the road. They bake with a wood-fired oven, and would have plenty of cold beer. Off we went in the pitch darkness with our flashlights. The pizza place was also dark, but open for business, and we were the only customers. It is quite a nice little place, with little wooden tables under a pavilion. The pizza was crisp and delicious, and the beer was heavenly cold.
When we returned to the house, the power magically appeared and normal life resumed.
Yoo hoo. I have just caught up with your blog posts, Trish. You are painting a lovely picture of life in the tropics, like a proper independent woman of a certain age. Your house and its environment are sweet. How good to read that you are gathering friends and acquaintances into your basket. And that you have met the vet and got the tuk tuk transport down. Here in Penn's Woods summer has arrived at last and the birds whose song and look I recognize are their own more modest exotic: green herons rooking in the stand of pines, a little blue bunting on the milkweed, and loads of cheeky robins. They send you their best wishes, as do I. Xo
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